↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; after getting hired to work in the Jeon household, you slowly find yourself adjusting to the quiet routines of a life that was never meant to include you.
Thank you for your patience, and I truly hope you enjoy what’s coming
A special thank you to @personasintro , whose writing has been a huge inspiration for me. Their style, atmosphere, and emotional pacing helped shape the way I wanted to tell this story, and I’m genuinely grateful for that influence.
I also want to say that this story is something I’m building with a lot of intention. I have big ideas for where it’s going, and I hope you’ll stay with it until everything slowly starts falling into place.
At the beginning, it might feel a little slow or even uneventful—but that is exactly the point. This story is meant to unfold gradually, like pieces quietly finding their place over time.
Thank you for your patience, and I truly hope you enjoy what’s coming next.
Fulfilling your parents' wish to see their only daughter get married was impossible. Especially since you didn't have a partner. So you come up with a plan. Pretend to get married to someone and then get divorced one year later. But countless blind dates don't seem to present you with the perfect pretend husband. Until your next-door neighbor, who always gets underneath your skin and drives you insane, offers to help. How hard could it be? It's only pretend, right?
enemies to lovers ⋆ next-door neighbor jungkook au
warnings ⋆ 18+! profanity, suggestive language, mentions of violent crimes, mild nudity, alcohol consumption, substance use, cheating, jk is kinda an a**hole in the beginning!
length ⋆ 6.8k+ / total length tbd
memo ᝰ.ᐟ I had so much fun writing this. It’s funny how after completely changing the story, I started to get ideas again haha. Hope you enjoy this and the next part will be up soon!
There it was again.
The same loud bass tone that you hear every night at 3:00 am. It echoes in your ears and leaves your head pounding. Once you experience that bothersome sensation that keeps you from sleeping anymore, you let out a groan. You turn over in bed and pull your comforter over your head to try and block out the noise.
But it didn’t work.
You could still hear it.
You whine, annoyed that you were always woken up at this time. “Turn it down.” You remove the covers and lift your torso to bang your hand aggressively on the wall where the noise was coming from.
Of course you wait a minute before banging on the wall again. Thankfully, the noise stopped so you could go back to sleep. You slide under the covers again and close your eyes to get the rest of your sleep before the next work day. But the second you get comfortable, the noise starts again.
“That’s it.” You open the covers and abruptly get out of bed, ready to have at it with your neighbor. You didn’t even care that you walked out of your apartment in your slippers. Your sleepless nights for the past 2 months needed to be accounted for.
Your apartment and your neighbor’s were the only two apartments on that side of the floor. So naturally, you could hear all the noise coming from next door and vice versa.
You knock on your neighbor’s front door as hard as you could, figuring that he couldn’t hear anything over that obnoxious music he was playing. The door didn’t open, even after about five inpatient knocks. So naturally, you knock again. This time, after the third knock, the door cracks open.
A husky voice holds a very annoyed tone, “What do you want?” The voice reveals itself when the door opens just far enough for you to see your neighbor’s face.
Wow.
This was the first time you saw your neighbor’s face in the two months that you lived in this building. He was wearing a white muscle tee with gray sweatpants. The length of his hair came down to the middle of neck with his bangs parted in the middle. More of his bangs covered the left side of his face but his forehead was still exposed. His facial features created the perfect harmony so that he was mature, masculine and somewhat alluring all at the same time.
Simply put, he was very attractive. Out of all of the men you had met in your 28 years of life, he was by far the winner in terms of looks.
But that meant nothing.
He could have a really shitty personality for all you knew. After all, looks can be deceiving. And how he’d respond to what you were about to say next would tell you if you were right or wrong.
“The noise coming from your apartment at this time every single night has kept me up for the past 2 months. Would you mind keeping it down so that I can sleep?” You wanted to give a good first impression so you kindly request that he minimize the noise.
He says nothing, just stares at you with a bored look in his eyes. It looked like this was the first time that someone had confronted him about his blasting music. After about two minutes, he finally says something. “The last person who lived next door didn’t say anything about it.” He chooses to be cheeky, which was wise of him in this case.
You exhale, trying to remain calm. “Maybe the last person who lived in my apartment was also noisy. That’s probably why they didn’t say anything.” Reasoning with him seemed like the smarter option as opposed to starting an argument.
“And you’re saying that you’re not a noisy person. And you need your sleep, so I should keep my music down?” He was rather quick at understanding the situation.
“Yes.” You let out a sigh of relief and smile, seeing that he knew where you were coming from. That was easier than expected.
“Why do I have to? It’s my apartment and my music. I do what I want.” He shuts the door in your face after completely ignoring what you just said.
You scoff, completely astonished at what just happened. “What a jackass.” You mutter under your breath. You realize that you should’ve just started an argument. Because either way, you wouldn’t have been able to get what you wanted. And you were right.
Looks can be deceiving.
Who would’ve thought that such an attractive guy that could easily have everything going for him could be so… condescending. You got absolutely nothing out of this. That was a complete waste of time. You drag yourself back into your apartment to try to get what you could of the rest of sleep before your alarm goes off. As you get back in bed, you hear the music coming from next door again. Though you try to ignore it, you were half asleep for the rest of the night. Again, as usual.
-
“I told you, I don’t want to.” You repeat yourself, annoyed that your ex-boyfriend wasn’t listening to you.
“I said I was sorry. Please just come home and be with me.” Your ex-boyfriend pleads through the other end of the phone. He acts like the apology was enough to get you to forgive him.
“Why are you always so selfish? You never listen to me.” You argue with him. You wish that he’d just leave you alone. But that was on you. You didn’t block his number when you should’ve.
“Look, I regret it now. I was an idiot. I still love you!”
You scoff, not falling for his words. “If you still love me, you wouldn’t have cheated to begin with. But you did. That means you never loved or respected me while we were together. I don’t need a jerk like you in my life. I’m blocking your number, so don’t try calling me again.” You end the phone call without bothering to hear what he had to say. You were done with him.
You stand outside your apartment building and exhale, feeling relieved that he was now out of your life. Just as you are about to walk in, you feel a pair of eyes on you.
“Trouble in paradise?” Your next-door neighbor asks with a cigarette in between his teeth. He was wearing jeans and a leather jacket. He has his back leaned against the lower half of a wooden pole that connects telephone lines. His head is angled slightly downward but his eyes are glued to you. He closes his mouth to inhale the nicotine before taking the cigarette out of his mouth and expelling the smoke.
“None of your business.” You frown, finding it odd that he cared.
“So much for breaking the ice.” Smoke escapes from his mouth again.
“Whatever.” You dismiss him and turn around.
He takes the cigarette out of his mouth, “Does my loud music still bother you at night?”
That’s unusual. Why does he care about that now after completely ignoring you a few days ago?
“Yes, it does.”
He throws the put-out cigarette in the ashtray on top of the trash can next to the pole he was leaning against. “Then might I suggest some noise-cancelling ear plugs?” He raises his eyebrows and walks past you with his hands in his pockets, toward the direction that you came from.
Ha.
Could he get any more annoying?
You roll your eyes and walk into the apartment building. You decide to take the elevator rather than the stairs today. You take out your phone and block your ex-boyfriend’s number before he tries to call you again. You get off when it reaches the fifth floor, take a left from the elevator and before getting to your front door. As you unlock the door, your phone vibrates in your hand.
It was your best friend calling.
You answer the phone call with one hand while the other opens the door. “Detective Koo. What’s up?”
“Y/N, you okay? Did that asshole say something weird to you?” He sounds worried on the other end.
“Well, he just called me. Why?” You lean your right side against the wall by the door to take off your shoes.
“Did you answer the phone?”
“Yeah. I know you told me not to answer his phone calls. But he left me like thirty voicemails so I had to put an end to it.” You walk into your bedroom and set your phone down on your vanity before switching the call to speaker phone.
“What did he say to you?” Your friend’s voice echoes throughout your bedroom.
“Just that he’s sorry and he wants me to go back to him. Hold on, I’ll be right back.” You grab a change of clothes and leave the bedroom to go into the bathroom to wash up and change.
Jaesun hears your footsteps approach your phone through the speaker, “Is that all he said?”
“Yes. Jaesun, why are you asking about him all of a sudden?”
“Because, we've been tracking his call history and saw that he just called you.”
“Why is the police tracking his call history?” You ask your best friend, who was a detective in the Violent Crimes unit at the Seoul Seosu police station.
“He’s wanted by the police right now. He’s the suspect in a hit-and-run. We caught him on the security cameras from last Tuesday at 11:00pm near Jeshin High School. He was driving while intoxicated and hit a high school student who was walking home after his tutoring session. And that student is on the brink of death right now due to severe brain injury.”
“That lunatic.” You exhale in shock. You knew your ex-boyfriend had very bad habits. He never seemed like he would take them so far to the point of harming someone though.
“So, be careful. Don’t answer if he calls you. I’ll come by later tonight.”
“He won’t be able to call me anyway. I blocked his number after he called me earlier. And he doesn’t even know where I moved to.” You reassure him that your ex-boyfriend couldn’t harm you.
“Good. Call me if anything else happens.” He was oddly protective of you lately.
“See you later.” You end the phone call.
“I have to do what?” You ask Jaesun who had come over for dinner like promised with fried chicken.
“You have to testify. Your contact name was in Han Woojin’s call history like 30 times over the past two weeks. He even called you that day. We just need to know why he called you so many times. Obviously my team knows that you’re not involved in this. It’s just a formality.”
You chew the rest of the chicken in your mouth and swallow. “That jerk. He’s unbelievable. I can’t believe I even thought about marrying him.”
Jaesun coughs, shocked to hear this for the first time. “You were?! How come I didn’t know about this?”
You were always adamant about all the decisions you made. But your relationship with Han Woojin was the one thing you were wary about, even though you loved him. Later on, you realized that it was right to feel that way.
“It’s not something I’m proud of. And ever since I broke up with him, my parents haven’t stopped bugging me about getting married. So I came up with a plan. Pretend to get married to someone, live with them for about one year and then get divorced.”
Jaesun bites the fried chicken leg in his hand and chews before opening his mouth, “What are you going to tell your parents when you split up with the guy?”
You shrug, “I guess that we just divorced because of conflicting personalities. That’s like the most neutral response. No one will question it.” You lean back in the chair, “Ugh, I really don’t want to go on that blind date tomorrow.”
“Blind date?”
“Yeah, my mom has already set me up with 20 guys. Tomorrow will be my 21st blind date in two months.” You sigh and run your hand through your hair in exhaust. “But none of the guys I’ve met really feel like they’d be the right fake husband.”
Jaesun widens his eyes while inhaling another piece of chicken. He looks at you, intrigued with this whole situation.
“Why isn’t there a handsome, well-rounded and kind guy out there? Is that too much to ask?” You groan and bury your head in your arms on the table, completely ignoring a contender that’s sitting in front of you.
“Hey.” Jaesun stops eating and taps your head.
You lift your head and look at him. “What?”
“There’s a handsome, well-rounded and kind guy right in front of you.” He puts his right hand below his chin, signalling that he’s willing to play in your charade so that you can stop going on blind dates.
Because you really didn’t want to go.
“Quit it. I’m being serious right now.” You whine, frustrated with this whole situation.
“So am I. You won’t find a guy like me anywhere. I'm handsome, tall, and have a good personality. Plus, I’m a cop. What more can you ask for?” He teases you, trying to cheer you up. He grabs the water bottle that’s on your side of the table and opens it for you.
“Like Mom and Dad will believe that.” You grab the bottle from him and take a sip of water. You sit up and grab a piece of chicken from the box in the middle of the table. As you were about to take a bite, you got startled by a loud yell that came from next door.
“Shit! You mother-” Your next-door neighbor curses loudly and groans.
“What the hell was that?” Jaesun also got startled by the sudden noise.
“My annoying next-door neighbor.” You shake your head. “He’s probably playing that stupid video game.”
“This is exactly why I should be your fake husband. I also have a nice house that’s far away from here and people like that.” He laughs, knowing well enough that you were feeling better now.
“Shut up.” You laugh with him before taking another bite of chicken. “When do I have to go testify for Han Woojin’s case?” You go back to talking about the chore you were asked to do ten minutes ago.
“The day after tomorrow. It’s just with me and Detective Ahn. You won’t be running into Han Woojin.” Jaesun wipes his hands on a napkin as he hears his phone vibrate on the table.
“Yes, sir.” He answers the call coming from his boss. “Okay, I’ll be right there.” He ends the call and gets up from the chair in a rush. “I gotta go.” He hurriedly puts his jacket on and rushes to the front door.
You get up and follow him to the door. “Is everything okay?”
Jaesun frantically puts his shoes on, “Han Woojin. He got into an altercation with one of my colleagues at a bar when they were trying to arrest him.”
You scoff as that was typical of him. “Nice going, buddy.”
“Really. Anyway, stay safe. I’m off.” He leans forward and strokes your head affectionately with a smile.
You wave, “Bye.” You watch him leave and you are alone again. Jaesun manages to cheer you up every time you see him. You and him have known each other since you were babies since your dads were best friends. You and Jaesun were practically family. He seemed like an older brother, even though you were the same age.
He always looked out for you and even called himself your older brother at times, as did you.
-
“Woah, what’s the occasion?” You run into your next-door neighbor on your way to your blind date. You were dressed very differently from your usual attire. Though it was not an outfit you put much thought into.
“I have a blind date.” You answer, not that excited about it. You were not looking forward to these anymore.
He laughs, almost like he’s making fun of you. “You sure you’re not just going to get rejected?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” You were already late but this conversation was holding you up more. Of course, you could’ve just ignored him. But you didn’t.
“No, I mean. It’s not an outfit I’d expect a girl to wear when she meets me for the first time.” He gives you his input, which somehow bothered you.
“Good. I’m not wearing this to meet you.” You snap at him before turning around in the other direction and walking down the hallway.
As you walk toward the elevator and get on, he calls out behind you. He just had to get the last word of this conversation, “Hope the guy likes the businesswoman concept!”
The elevator door closes and his voice rings in your head. “He’s so annoying.” You shake your head, trying to not let him get to you.
Nonetheless, you did let him get to you. Why that is, was well…
You trudge back home from your 21st failed blind date. This guy was a non-contender, yet again. All of the men you had met up until now either had ridiculous standards or were really serious about getting married. Both of which you couldn’t meet. None of them were your type anyway. You mindlessly walk into the apartment building when you meet the security guard by the mailboxes.
“Y/N! Where are you coming back from?” He happily greets you, noticing that you were all dressed up. “A wedding?”
You laugh and bow your head, “Hi. No, I had a blind date.”
“Oh..” He slowly nods his head, before leaning closer to whisper something to you. “You have to be careful who you get married to. Make sure he’s good to you. A man needs to be good to his wife.” He smiles, looking out for you.
“Thank you, sir.” You laugh and bow.
“Oh, you got a package. It’s a big one so I kept it down here and put it on a handcart for you. He goes into his small office in the corner and pushes out a handcart with a big box on it. “Here. I can bring it up for you if you want.”
You shake your head as he was an older gentleman. “It’s okay. I got it. Thank you!” You bow and take the handcart from him before pushing it toward the elevator. You get off when the elevator reaches the fifth floor and push the handcart out with all of your strength. It was really heavy and you wondered what was in the box.
“Back already?” Your neighbor talks to you again.
“You don’t have anything to do? Why are you always talking to me?” You groan, struggling to push the handcart to your door.
“You live next door to me. It’d be hard to ignore you.” He acts as if he hadn’t done that for the first two months of you living there, before you complained about the noise at night.
“You’ve done it up until now.” You use all of your strength but the cart doesn’t roll that much further from where it was just now. You look at your neighbor who was just watching you struggle. “You know, this is usually when the guy offers to help.”
“Why would I? You’re doing great.” He smiles, teasing you.
You continue to push the cart, almost having reached your door. You exhale. “I’m an idiot for asking for help.”
“Have fun with that, you independent woman!” He cheers you on while walking away.
You finally reach your door so you tilt the cart upwards so that it stands on its own. You exhale and turn your head to watch your annoying neighbor walk into the elevator. “He thinks he’s so cool.” You sigh, shaking your head. You unlock the door, then realize you had to bring the box inside. You groan, getting ready to struggle for the second time. You enter your apartment and leave the handcart by the door. You lug the giant box into the living room and look to see who sent it. It was from Han Woojin.
You grab a pair of scissors, open it and slide it along the middle of the tape. Strangely, your heart began to race. You were somewhat anxious at this moment, not knowing what to expect because of how your ex-boyfriend was behaving towards you. You fold the flaps of the box over and peer inside to see that it was your dad’s old stereo system that he had given to Woojin. You now relax. On top of it was a sticky note that read. “I figured I should return this to you. It’s your dad’s.”
You let out another sigh, something that you had been doing a lot of lately. “I was thinking about how to get this out of there. Now I don’t have to worry about it anymore.”
-
“What are you doing here?” You notice Jaesun’s car sitting in front of your apartment building.
“I didn’t want you to come to the station alone. Plus, I have a favor to ask you.” Jaesun waits to drive off until you’ve buckled your seatbelt.
“Don’t tell me. It’s your ex-girlfriend again, right?” You were suspecting that he was going to ask you to do that again. “Jaesun, she knows it’s me now. She knows my voice.” You tell him that there was no point anymore.
“She won’t leave me alone. She keeps stalking me.” He gets worked up as you don’t seem to understand the severity of the situation.
“You’re a cop. Report her. Hell, get a restraining order.”
“You don’t think I’ve tried that already?” Jaesun groans, frustrated that he wasn’t being left alone. “She even installed cameras in my house. That was after she hacked into my phone and bugged it. She’s literally crazy.”
You gasp, “What a psycho.” As you hear him groan again, you rub his shoulder with your hand, “But how many times can I pretend to be your new girlfriend without her figuring out that it’s me? She knows who I am. And it seems like you have a lot of evidence to make a case. Stalking is a serious crime. She needs to be put away.”
“You sure you can’t-?” He asks you one more time, just in case you’ve changed your mind.
“Jaesun, stop talking about that and drive.”
You and Jaesun had come back from the police station. He was going to help you move your dad’s old stereo. “I’m telling you. This year’s items are different from five years ago.” You explain to your friend in the hallway of your apartment building. He asked you what you wanted for your birthday and you told him about the earrings you had in mind. But of course, he didn’t know the difference between the ones he got you five years ago and the ones you wanted. “Please, Jaesun?”
“Okay, okay. I’ll buy them for you. Are you happy now?” He gave in, stopping you just before you started acting cute.
“Yay! Thanks!” You link your arm with him and lean on him with a big smile on your face. That’s when you run into your neighbor who was coming out of his apartment.
“Wow, did you get a new boyfriend already?” He walks up to you.
You glare at him, “Mind your own business, would you?”
He lifts his hands up in defense, “Fine, sorry.” He lets his arms fall to his side and walks past you and Jaesun. Then he suddenly turns around to tell you something. “If you’re going to be loud tonight with, um, him, can you let me know? So that I can sleep with my headphones on tonight? Gotta block out the noise. Thanks.” He smirks and turns back around to walk off.
“That di-“ Jaesun starts, ready to say something to your neighbor but you stop him.
“Let it go.” You grab his arm and calm your friend down. “That’s nothing new. He says cheeky things like that all the time.”
“How can I when he said that?” Jaesun clenches his jaw and stares at your neighbor who disappears into the elevator.
“Let’s use that anger to help me move my dad’s stereo, okay?” You pull Jaesun by his arm and he turns his head back around.
-
“Hey, independent woman. Where’s that guy?” You run into your neighbor, again. You were coming out of your apartment and were on your way to work.
“He left yesterday. He’s my older brother.” You just said that so he doesn’t question who Jaesun is anymore. Not that there was really anything to question. You just didn’t want him saying inappropriate things like that again. You avoid eye contact with him and just walk off.
“Oh, then what I said yesterday wasn’t appropriate. My bad.” He realizes that he made a mistake by assuming your relationship with Jaesun.
You ignore him and continue walking down the hallway when he stops you and you turn around to finally make eye contact with him.
“What’s your name? I’m Jungkook, Jeon Jungkook.”
“Y/N. Yoon Y/N.” You answer him, wondering why he was being friendly all of a sudden.
“I’m 28, how about you?”
“Me too.” You were taken aback by this conversation.
“Then I can speak casually, right?” Jungkook’s eyes smile at you for the first time.
Why was he suddenly being so friendly?
You nod but don’t reciprocate the smile, “Sure, whatever you want.”
“See you later, Y/N!” Jungkook smiles and enters his apartment.
You turn back around and decide to take the stairs today. Why was he suddenly so nice? Did he really feel bad for saying that yesterday? He didn’t seem like the type to really care about how other people react to what he says. As you reach the ground floor, you shake your head and brush that conversation off. You walk to the bus stop and your next 15 minutes of commuting to the high school was quiet.
“Y/N!” You hear your name being called from behind. Footsteps approach and you see your colleague walking on your right. “It’s so cold!” It was only late November, but the weather was starting to get chilly. Your colleague’s name was Kang Yohan. He was a grade 12 math teacher. He was also your and Jaesun’s high school classmate and fairly close friend.
You were the high school’s counselor. You were now mostly focusing on helping the senior students apply to college.
“It’s busy for you, right?” Yohan asks, knowing that it was that time of year again.
“So busy, Yohan. Some students have already applied to schools. But most kids start now.” You rub your hands together to warm yourself up. “I have so many meetings, with both students and parents.
“Yeah, well at least the CSATs are over.” Yohan continues the conversation as you two greet other teachers walking into the school.
“Yeah, I’m so glad that’s over.” You and Yohan part ways as the two of you head to your desks in the faculty office.
Your work day was a little longer than usual due to the endless number of meetings you had with parents about their children’s educational future. You had brought your work home with you since one of the parents requested a telephone meeting to discuss her daughter’s academic potential for a prestigious university.
“Ma’am, Sara’s doing very well as is. But if she prefers to get into her dream school over the others that she’s applying to, I think it’s better if she re-takes the entrance exam and re-applies next term.”
“So you’re saying my daughter’s not smart enough to get into college?” She snaps at you, misinterpreting what you just told her.
“That’s not what I’m saying at all. All I’m saying is, Sara can get into schools with the GPA and test scores she has now. But by re-taking the entrance exam, she can improve her scores and increase her chances of getting into a better school, like KAIST. She told me that you want her to go there since that’s your alma mater.” You clarify what you meant as to not upset her.
“Fine. Just make sure Sara gets in.” Her tone admits that she jumped to conclusions about what you said.
“Of course. Don’t worry. Take care.” You end the phone call in a respectful manner, completely the fifth telephone conference of the day. You set your phone down and let out an exhausted sigh.
Just then, you get a call from Jaesun.
“Sun, what’s up?” Your voice was tired but happy to get a phone call from him.
“Are you okay? You sound tired.” He worries about you, like always.
You rub your eyes with your free hand. “Yeah, just busy with work. I had to bring it home today.”
“You’re working hard. Anyway, I just heard from the mother of the student that Han Woojin hit. The kid’s dead.”
“What?!” You whisper, shocked.
“I’m on my way to arrest him on murder charge. Just wanted to update you.” Jaesun speaks through the car speaker.
You sigh, “Thanks for the update. Be careful. See you tomorrow.”
“Okay, don’t work yourself too hard.” Jaesun ends the phone call.
You bury your face in your hands and your stomach growls. You look at the time on your phone and it was already 9PM. You were so busy that you forgot to eat dinner.
You also needed a drink.
And it seemed like Jungkook who was arguing with someone next door did too.
You hear objects slam against the floor and voices being raised.
“You can’t just end things here! It’s not fair!” A woman’s voice whines, which was followed by Jungkook groaning in frustration.
“Stop acting so innocently. I never asked you to cheat on me. That’s on you, you ruined this relationship.” He raises his voice at who you assumed to be his girlfriend. “Go and live a nice life with that guy. Don’t ever come back here.” Jungkook’s voice calms down a bit and the next thing you hear was his door opening and then closing. Then as you walk over to your fridge, you hear high heels echo and retreat.
The fridge was empty. You forgot to go grocery shopping this week. That meant you had to go to the convenience store.
You sit at a table outside the convenience store, with your back to the door. You take a bite of the sandwich you bought. You close your eyes and exhale, feeling a little better now that you got a bit of fresh air and some food in your empty stomach. When you open your eyes, you make eye contact with Jungkook, who looked like he wasn’t supposed to be here right now.
He breaks eye contact and walks into the store while you sit there and take the last bite of your sandwich. One minute later, Jungkook comes out with a plastic bag and invites himself to sit down in the chair across from you.
He takes out the stuff he bought from the bag and sets it down on the table in front of him. Three cans of beer and a bottle of water. He pops open a can of beer and takes a sip.
You just stare at him as he’s doing that, wondering why he just took that seat. He never asked if he could sit there. After you swallow the food in your mouth, you suddenly cough. You forgot to buy water and didn’t feel like getting up again so you were eating the sandwich dry. That’s why Jungkook notices you were choking and loosens the cap of the bottle of water he bought. He hands it to you and you take it from him. You needed something to wash the food down.
Once you take a sip of water and close the cap, Jungkook pushes the other can of beer that was on the table towards you. He motions with his eyes, telling you to drink it. You pop the can open and take a sip. It had been a while since you drank beer so the taste threw you off a bit. You take another sip anyway, immediately getting used to the taste. The two of you sit across from each other in silence. You don’t make eye contact or say a word to one another. You just sit there and drink your beer.
You finish drinking your can first so you stand up from the chair and throw out your garbage. You grab the water bottle you drank from and walk back home while Jungkook was still sitting at the table drinking.
You hear Jungkook come back home and bottles clinking against each other inside a plastic bag. He had bought more alcohol. His front door closes and a few seconds later, loud music blasts from his apartment again. You grab your phone and walk out of your apartment. Taking the five steps it took to get to Jungkook’s door, you stand in front of it and knock.
He opens the door without a word.
You hand him your phone, “Give me your bank account number so I can pay you back for the beer.”
“It’s fine.” His voice was tired. He didn’t want to talk to anyone right now. “You don’t have to pay me back.” He just closes the door in your face.
Though that was rude to someone who didn’t understand the situation, you weren’t bothered by it. “Still. I feel bad.” You talk to yourself and just go back into your apartment.
-
It was the next morning. You hang a shopping bag on his apartment door knob and head back out. Inside the bag was a thermos filled with hangover soup*. On the outside of the bag, there’s a sticky note that reads, “For the beer. Make sure to heat this up and eat it. It’ll help with your hangover. -Y/N”
*Hangover soup (haejang-guk, 해장국) is a type of Korean soup that is eaten to cure hangovers. It is made with beef broth and though there are variations, it usually includes napa cabbage, bean sprouts, radish, beef and green onions.
After leaving the bag on his door knob, you head out to work. About one hour later, Jungkook’s apartment door opens as he heads out to hit the gym. Once his door closes, he notices the bag hanging on the knob. He takes the bag off of the knob and reads the note. He smiles to himself and takes the bag back inside to eat the soup.
10:00 PM
You get off of the bus at a different stop because you missed your usual stop. Therefore, you had to walk a few extra blocks home. The air quality was starting to get worse outside at night in Seoul with winds getting crisper. You cough after inhaling the pollution in the air. Your phone then vibrates in your pocket and it was your mom calling.
“Hi, Mom.” Your voice was hoarse after coughing.
“Honey, what’s wrong?” Your mom sounds worried after hearing your voice.
“Nothing, I just inhaled some dust.” You reassure her that you were just experiencing seasonal weather changes.
“It’s late. Where are you?” She asks, wondering what you were doing out late at night.
“I went over to Jaesun’s. But I missed my stop on the bus so I have to walk a few more blocks to get home.” You talk to your mom on the phone while walking on the sidewalk.
“You should’ve asked Jaesun to take you home. It’s dark outside.”
“He offered but I told him that I’d take the bus. And I can’t ask him for a ride all the time.” You remind your mom that although you and Jaesun were basically siblings, it was a burden to ask that of him every time.
“I know. But it gets dark earlier now.” Your mom looks out for you, as always.
“Thanks, Mom.” You smile while talking to her, as it makes your walk home less boring.
“How did that blind date go, by the way?” She wanted to know if you finally found the perfect match.
“I didn’t really like him. He also didn’t like me.” You tell her that the lack of attraction was mutual with the last man you met.
“Why? What’s there not to like about my daughter?” Your mom questions, thinking that you lacked in nothing, as all parents think about their children.
“Do I have to get married?” You ask, tired of meeting men that you couldn’t compromise with.
“Why? You don’t want to?”
“It’s not that.” Your voice trails off. You let out a sigh before continuing your thought. “I just only ever thought about marrying Han Woojin. And now that I have to get married to someone that I don’t know and start to build a relationship all over again as a married couple, I don’t really think I can do that again.” Your parents were completely oblivious to your plan. So you had to make it seem like you went on every blind date with the true intent of really getting married. You were deceiving your parents in a way. But they really wanted to see you, their only daughter, live happily with someone. “And I’m doing fine on my own. I don’t really trust men after Han Woojin cheated on me.”
While walking, you lock eyes with Jungkook on the sidewalk. He was coming home from a friend’s wedding. He was dressed in a black suit and tie with dress shoes. Despite it being dark out with very little lighting on in the streets, you could tell that he was very handsome, once again.
You just hope that he didn’t just hear what you said to your mom on the phone since that would be embarrassing.
But he did.
“Well, if you really don’t want to..” Your mom sounded a little disappointed, but she takes a deep breath and her voice sounds positive again. “If you say that you’re doing okay on your own, I’ll trust that and stop setting up blind dates. After all, there’s nothing wrong with a woman being independent.”
“Thanks, Mom.” You hold eye contact with Jungkook while talking to her. “I’m almost home, so I’ll talk to you later. Goodnight.” You end the phone call and walk the rest of the way with Jungkook.
“Hey there, independent woman.” Jungkook was back to being his usual self.
You speed up, not wanting to talk to him right now. Jungkook unfortunately catches up to you and talks to you anyway. “You’re ignoring me now? After you saw me back there?”
“I want to walk home quietly. Can you not talk to me right now?” You walk in front of him.
He catches up with you again, “Why? Because I heard what you said on the phone?”
You stop walking and turn to face him, “Can you pretend like you didn’t hear that?”
“I don’t want to. Why do I have to?” He smirks while looking down at you, having fun teasing you right now.
“See? This is exactly why I didn’t want to talk to you.” You exhale. “Fine, then don’t. I don’t care.” You turn back around and keep walking.
“Are your parents telling you to get married?” He continues talking to you.
“What’s it to you?” You snap at him.
“I never asked you to acknowledge me back there. You just spoke on the phone while looking at me.” Jungkook was intrigued with the whole situation. He was curious as to why a woman like you was going out on blind dates and talking about marriage. Because you seemed like a very independent woman.
You exhale deeply, annoyed with him. “They are. Happy?”
“But you don’t want to.” Jungkook walks next to you and looks at you from the side. “Then why did you go on that blind date?”
He was forcing you to explain your plan to him. It seemed like the only way to shut him up right now. “Because I’m trying to look for a man to pretend to get married to.”
Jungkook laughs, finding your plan ridiculous. “You’re going to be in a fake marriage just to make your parents happy?”
You were regretting telling him that now.
“I’ll be your husband.” He says abruptly, giving you no warning.
His words make you stop and turn to face him again. “You’ll what?”
“I’ll be your husband.” He repeats himself while making eye contact with you. He shrugs, “How hard can it be? It’s only pretend, right?”
Fulfilling your parents' wish to see their only daughter get married was impossible. Especially since you didn't have a partner. So you come up with a plan. Pretend to get married to someone and then get divorced one year later. But countless blind dates don't seem to present you with the perfect pretend husband. Until your next-door neighbor, who always gets underneath your skin and drives you insane, offers to help. How hard could it be? It's only pretend, right?
enemies to lovers ⋆ next-door neighbor jungkook au
𐃯 Summary: After your fiancé cheated on you, you seek solace at the elite Inferno club in the heart of Gangnam. There you meet a mysterious guy with tattoos, piercings, and charisma that makes you forget your pain. One night of passion, but will it end there?
𐃯 Couple: Jeon Jungkook x The Reader, Jungkook x Y/N
𐃯 Age restrictions: 18+
𐃯 Size: one shot (10 650+ k words)
𐃯 Tags: from stranger to lover, angst, smut, one-night stand to more? nsfw, tattooed jungkook, elite club, cosmopolitan cocktails, alcohol, emotional healing, flirtatious banter, spicy tension, mature themes, eating pussy, sex, unprotected sex, drunk sex
𐃯 From author: Hiii 💜 I won't say much, but I will say that I am alive and still writing. I don't think this is my best work, but the idea for the fanfic came to me while I was writing something else, as usual. The plot came easily to me, so I wrote it, but it took me almost three weeks. I also have to mention that I'm working on sequels to the series and on a one-shot about Formula 1. I hope you're still waiting. (To briefly add about my condition — girls, it's horrible 😅, but let's not dwell on it because I'm tired of whining to you 🥲)! In any case, if you like it, I'll be happy!
𐃯 Dedication: to my precious @kelsyx33! It’s my modest-immodest gift for your birthday ❤️🔥 You know I love you 💜❤️🔥 I am infinitely grateful to you for your support and love 💜🙏🏻
𐃯 Warning: This fanfic contains explicit depictions of infidelity (fiancé cheating), heavy alcohol consumption to cope with heartbreak, intense flirtation leading to potential one-night stand, and mature sexual tension. Themes include trust issues, possessiveness, and rebound intimacy. 18+ only. English is not my native language, so some sentences might sound a little off or have grammar slips. I’m doing my best—hope you still vibe with the story! 🙏🏻
The Inferno nightclub was an elite venue in the heart of Gangnam. It was frequented by wealthy and influential people who wanted to end their day in a bright and carefree manner.
As the daughter of one of the richest men in Korea, you were, of course, well aware of this place — you had heard about it many times, but had never been there. You weren't the type to disappear into clubs at night, drink to excess, or have sex with strangers. You were a girl with a prestigious job, moderate, who only drank in the company of friends and was in a relationship that had lasted several years and was supposed to end in marriage.
But now, despite everything, you were sitting at the bar at Inferno, holding your fourth Cosmopolitan in your hand. The sweet and sour taste of cranberry and vodka burned your tongue, but it barely dulled the sharp pain.
A week ago, you found out that your fiancé, with whom you had been planning your wedding in six months, had cheated on you. You accidentally saw his correspondence with a colleague, Jivon, a lawyer with whom he was working on a joint case.
You tried to justify his delays at work and frequent business trips. He talked about an extremely important client connected to the government, who was part of the president's team. But your heart stubbornly felt that something was wrong.
When you saw his candid correspondence with Jivon, you almost fainted. They discussed the details of their sex life, planned what they would try next time; she sent him detailed nude photos of herself, and he responded in kind.
It was a heavy, devastating blow for you. Although you had noticed that your intimate relationship had lost some of its passion, and that over the years you had both grown accustomed to each other, what you saw shattered your world. A part of you died in that moment. Your love for Leejin, which you had thought was eternal, seemed to evaporate in an instant.
When he came and you showed him the phone and asked how long it had been going on, he began to make pathetic excuses. Standard phrases like "It's not what you think," "I'll explain everything," and "Honey, let's talk about this calmly" were absurdly ridiculous and meaningless. You hardly heard his words because you saw what you saw, and it couldn't be anything else. Your heart was broken into a thousand pieces, and you didn't know what to do.
Instead of the family you were supposed to have in six months, you got a heart torn to pieces and trust shattered to smithereens. All you could do was leave without saying another word. It was unbearably painful to realize that the person you considered your other half and the man of your life had rejected you.
Leejin tried to get you back. His calls were like a punch in the stomach, his visits to your apartment were unbearable, and you couldn't bring yourself to forgive him. You didn't know what to do with everything that had happened. If you told your parents, your father would destroy Leejin, but you couldn't keep quiet because you couldn't marry someone who had betrayed you for so long.
Your thoughts tormented you more than Leejin's behavior, so that evening, when your friends were discussing where to go for a walk in the chat room, you were the one who suggested going to a club. You needed chaos, loud music to drown out your thoughts, and a place that was radically different from your usual world. That's how you ended up at Inferno.
You drank cocktail after cocktail, letting the warmth of the vodka spread through your body. You didn't want to find a connection, you just wanted to forget. However, despite the alcohol, you couldn't relax.
Solha and Yuna went outside to smoke, and you stayed at the bar. Your eyes wandered around the room, and once again you caught the gaze of a stranger.
It was the same guy you bumped into in the crowd on your way to the bar. He appeared out of nowhere, and you accidentally bumped into him with your shoulder.
The guy was tall, with dark, neatly styled, slightly damp hair, dressed in a black unbuttoned leather shirt with rolled-up sleeves, under which you could see a black tank top and a tattoo that clearly adorned his muscular chest.
He wore a chain around his neck. On his right arm, you also noticed intricate tattoo designs stretching from his wrist upward. Even in the neon light of the club, you could see a snake and a lily painted on his arm. He also wore jeans that were a little too big for him and were held up only by his belt.
He had piercings on his face, and surprisingly, you liked how this guy looked, even though you always thought that such rebellious looks weren't for you. There was something about this man that made you focus your attention on him.
You apologized, but your words were drowned out by the music. He looked at you without looking away, as if trying to understand what you were saying. Then he took a step closer, leaning toward your ear:
"What are you saying?" you heard his low voice. You smelled his perfume, something woody and spicy, completely unlike ordinary men's fragrances.
"I'm sorry, I accidentally bumped into you," you shouted back, feeling his hot breath on your ear, which gave you goosebumps.
"You? It's my fault. I wasn't looking where I was going," he smiled, and despite the piercing on his lip, his smile was surprisingly sincere and charming. His eyes lingered on you a moment longer than politeness required. "There are probably too many people here to dance,"
"Yes," you nodded, trying not to lose your cool. "Excuse me, I have to go," you said, not holding his gaze, and walked away.
Since then, you constantly saw him among the crowd of people in the club. It wasn't that you were looking for him specifically, but the look you caught from him now told you that you were in his field of vision for a reason.
You knew that sooner or later he would approach you, and you didn't know what you wanted more: for him to do it sooner rather than later, or not at all.
Finally, you felt him stand behind you, and a moment later he sat down on the high stool next to you. He ordered a glass of whiskey. When he moved, you caught a whiff of his perfume, which you remembered and which stirred strange feelings in you. His gaze fell on you and was direct and indecently intense.
"You seem to have lost your company," he said. His voice was a pleasant baritone that carried even through the loud music.
"No, I’m not," you replied, feeling your pulse quicken. "They went for a smoke break."
"And you didn't go because you don't smoke?" He smiled slightly.
"I don't smoke," you replied, smiling back. There was a pause. His eyes were fixed on your face, and the attention was almost physical.
"Why are you sad?" he asked suddenly. You pressed your lips together slightly and raised your eyebrows, not expecting such a question.
"Do I look sad?" you asked.
"Yes. I've been watching you all evening, and it's very obvious," he replied. The bartender placed a glass of whiskey in front of him, and he looked away from you for just a moment to thank him with a nod.
"All evening?" you asked, as if you hadn't caught his gaze since you accidentally met. You tried to sound ironic. "Why have you been watching me all evening?"
"I liked you." He shrugged, speaking bluntly. You didn't rush to answer, struck by his directness. But he didn't let you dodge the question. "So why are you sad?" he asked again.
"Do you really want to know, or is this just a way to start a conversation?" you squinted. He smiled slightly, and a playful sparkle flashed in his eyes, as if he had just been caught in a cute trick.
"What if I say it's both?"
You smiled again, allowing yourself a small flash of admiration that this guy was being honest with you. You turned away to your cocktail, examining it.
"I don't think you're the type who wants to listen to 'girl talk,'" you assumed.
"Why do you think that?" he asked again with a smile on his lips. The tension between you began to grow, and you couldn't understand what was causing it.
"Because you look that way," you turned your face toward him, meeting his searching gaze.
"How do I look?" he arched an eyebrow.
"Like someone who doesn't waste time and knows what he wants," you replied. At first glance, he looked like a typical chebol. But not in the way of going to work at his father's office or holding a management position. He looked like someone who lived off his wealthy family and simply did whatever he wanted. His piercings and tattoos spoke of his rebellious nature. But you weren't stupid and understood why he was here. His gaze and behavior said that he had come to you for one thing only—sex.
"Are you so good at understanding people?"
"Oh no. I don't understand people at all," you smiled bitterly, thinking how you could not have seen how you were being betrayed. And it was so obvious.
"But you told the truth about me. I don't waste my time and usually wouldn't listen to 'girly stuff'. But for some reason, I want to know what's upsetting you," he said. For a moment, you thought he was being sincere, but your intuition told you not to trust him. He was here because he wanted you, not because he wanted to know why you were sad.
"Because you want me to let you get closer," you said bluntly, looking him in the eye.
"Maybe," he said seriously, without arguing.
"Do I look like someone who sleeps with strangers?" you asked, deciding not to hide the fact that you understood his intentions.
"No. You don't," he smiled, his voice calm and firm.
"Then why are you still here?" you became serious.
He didn't rush to answer. He just picked up his glass of whiskey and took a slow sip, as if savoring not the drink, but your question. Then he put the glass back down.
"Because you're not like the people who usually sit here," he said, without looking away. "You're not looking for attention. You don't smile at everyone who comes up to you. You sit here, drinking your fourth cocktail, looking like you want the whole club to burn to the ground. And at the same time, you look like you're afraid someone will notice."
You felt something tighten in your chest. He spoke, and every word hit the mark.
"You don't know me," you replied, but your voice wasn't as confident anymore.
"I know you weren't supposed to be here. And I know you don't drink to have fun. You drink to not think." He leaned a little closer, and you smelled that woodsy scent again. "And I know you don't sleep with strangers. But you let me sit down. And you haven't left yet."
You were silent. He was right. And it was annoying.
"Do you want me to leave?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.
"No," he replied immediately. "I want you to tell me what happened. Maybe it will make you feel better."
You turned away. You stirred your cocktail with a straw, hesitating to tell him what was still hurting you.
"Come on, you can tell a stranger in a nightclub anything. Your secret will die with me," he encouraged you.
"I've heard that it's bad to share your problems with strangers because then they somehowbeing involved in your life," you smiled, turning back and looking into his eyes, which already seemed to be undressing you.
"It's all up to you. You may never see me again after our conversation, or vice versa," he said, taking a sip of whiskey.
You glanced at him, then took a sip of your cocktail. You understood perfectly well that this man had not come to ask about your problems; he actually wanted to sleep with you, and this conversation was the beginning of foreplay.
"Have you ever lost everything you had in an instant?" you finally spoke.
He paused for a few seconds. You turned your head toward him and met his gaze, which surprisingly conveyed comfort and strength.
"Yes. It happened," he replied briefly.
Your eyes didn't leave each other for a second, but you swear it felt like an eternity to you.
"So you lost something?" he asked.
You nodded, feeling your throat tighten with emotions that were still fresh, like an open wound.
"Not 'something,' but 'someone,'" you said.
"A boyfriend?" he guessed.
"My fiancé," you said, and the word seemed to burn your tongue.
"Is he dead?" he asked. You snorted.
"I don't know what could be worse: if he were dead, or that fact he cheated on me."
"Could anyone betray a woman like you?" he asked, his voice full of genuine surprise. But you couldn't believe his sincerity. His reaction seemed fake.
"Oh, that sounds unconvincing," you said ironically, but he didn't even smile.
"I'm serious," he moved a few inches closer, and you noticed it. "You look like a woman who needs to be loved day and night. Who needs to be kept close 24/7, because someone will definitely take her away as soon as you take a step to the side. And some jerk cheated on you?"
You froze as he complimented you. It was said with such passion and confidence that your heart involuntarily began to beat faster. The thought flashed through your mind that if he wanted to seduce you, he was doing a very good job. But God, could you really sleep with a stranger?
"Yes. Can you imagine?" you ask, and for some reason your voice takes on a flirtatious tone rather than the pain you still felt. But why did you think he could drown it out better than vodka-based cocktails?
"I can't imagine what kind of scumbag he'd have to be," he says, his voice also taking on a flirtatious tone, dropping an octave.
You laugh again, unable to resist his tone and gaze. He's clearly a player and is now judging someone who cheated. It's funny.
"All men are scumbags," you say, unable to resist his remark.
"You judge everyone by your fiancé?" the man, whose name you still don't know, smiled defiantly.
"I judge all men. You all cheat. Even if you have a woman you should love day and night," you use his words against him. He laughs quietly and deeply again, and you can feel his laughter echoing in you with incomprehensible emotions.
"Then all women are stupid. Because they allow scumbags to do what they do," he leaned his elbow on the bar and took a sip of whiskey, looking at you from behind his glass. You couldn't help but notice the shadow of defiance in his eyes.
"Are you serious?" you exclaimed.
"Well, you're seriously saying that all men are scumbags," he replied matter-of-factly.
"Yes. Because even the most faithful will betray you someday. My fiancé acted caring, whispered how much he loved me. And the next day he was fucking his colleague in the office," you said sharply, unable to contain your emotions. The man with the piercing's expression changed slightly. But you couldn't tell what it meant: anger, irritation, or excitement from the discussion.
There was a short pause. He shrugged, twirling a glass of whiskey in his hands.
"Maybe you're right. But I can only speak for myself,"
"Well then, speak for yourself," you said, feeling irritated by him, "I'm sure you've cheated. But you're unlikely to admit it,"
"Never," you heard him reply. You froze, not expecting him to say it so quickly. You moved closer to him, turning your whole body toward him. And a fire was already burning inside you that you couldn't stop.
"Really?" you asked ironically.
"Yes," he replied, leaning toward you. "I've never cheated on a woman,"
"Because you didn't have one, right? Because you're a player who has a new woman every day, and that's why you don't cheated on," you said, analyzing him during the conversation.
"You've jumped to conclusions again, but based on what?" he smiled. He was clearly enjoying this conversation. But you didn't find it funny.
"Based on the fact that you've been watching me all evening and now you've come over to ask me for a one-night stand," you blurted out.
He laughed at you louder this time. And moved even closer. Your knees touched.
"I did want to offer you sex, but I'm not sure about one night anymore," he said, his eyes darting across your face.
"I don't have sex with people I don't know," you snapped and leaned back, trying to control how this man's closeness was suddenly affecting you.
"Then ask me anything you want to know," he persisted. You turned back to your cocktail.
"It doesn't work that way. I mean long-term communication," you said without looking at him. You felt him get up from his chair and come closer to you. He was close, and when his breath touched your ear for the second time that evening, you felt goosebumps run down your skin again.
"It can't be true. I can see that you're interested in me. And as you said, I've been looking at you all evening, but you've been looking at me too. I can see that you're responding, but for some reason you're hesitate."
You were struck by his directness and the fact that he noticed that you were looking at him too. And it’s not because he was looking at you, but because you liked him too.
"Come on, you're a grown woman. You can try sex with a stranger to numb the pain of betrayal. If you want, you can use me."
You slowly turned your head, and your faces were dangerously close. He glanced slowly at your lips, and you did the same. You felt like you wanted to taste them.
However, you didn't want to give in so quickly, even if it was to numb the pain.
"Oh, use you?" you asked quietly, almost surprised, trying to sound indifferent, but your breathing had already become uneven. "Do you really think I'm capable of that?"
"You're capable of anything to get rid of this pain," his gaze, black and deep, slid from your eyes to your lips. "And I can see it."
You were almost ready to respond with a sharp refusal, but his next move stopped you. He reached out his hand to you. You glanced at it briefly, then turned your eyes back to his.
"Let's go dance, and then you can give me your answer," he suggested.
You tilted your head, taken aback by this turn of events. It was unexpected and yet elegant. Instead of insisting, he was offering an innocent activity. You liked the way this man behaved. And the more time you spent with him, the longer you wanted to stay in his company.
You pushed your cocktail glass further along the bar table, feeling the bartender glance at you, and placed your hand in his.
His skin was warm, his palm firm, with a slight callus on his fingers, as if he did something with his hands. He squeezed your hand gently but confidently and pulled you out of your chair. You walked through the crowd—loud music pounded in your ears, neon lights flashed, bodies moved to the rhythm, sweaty and free. He led you to the dance floor, still holding your hand, and you felt his thumb slide across your palm—on purpose or not?
When you reached the center, he turned to face you, still holding your hand. The music slowed to something more sensual — a heavy beat with electronic notes that vibrated in your chest.
He pulled you closer, not too boldly, but enough for your chest to touch his torso. You started moving. The scent of his perfume enveloped you again — woody with something smoky that made your head spin more than vodka.
"Just relax," he whispered in your ear, his lips barely touching your earlobe. He leaned away for a moment, and then you leaned toward his ear:
"Using you?" you asked with a smile. He leaned back to see your eyes and that slightly sarcastic smile.
"Stop it," he said suddenly. You were embarrassed. What exactly had you done to make him react that way?
"What exactly?" you asked, moving with him. He leaned toward your ear again and said,
"Make me liking you more."
His words sent a strange sensation through your lower abdomen. After his words, you wanted to be liked by him even more. Your hands involuntarily squeezed his shoulders, which were as hard as steel. He kept his palms on your waist, his fingers sliding over the fabric of your dress, as if studying its contours.
You continued to move. Slowly at first, in rhythm, his hips touching yours, and you felt warmth spreading through your lower abdomen. The alcohol was doing its job — boundaries were blurring, the pain receding, replaced by something hot, primal. He leaned closer, his breath on your neck.
"If you want, you can use me any way you want," he whispered, his voice vibrating through the music.
You didn't answer with words — you just pressed closer, your hips synchronizing with his. His hands moved lower, to your thighs, squeezing gently, guiding you. You felt his hardness through his jeans—not intrusive, but obvious, and it sparked something in you that you hadn't expected. Your head fell back, your hair spilling down your back, and his lips barely touched your collarbone—not a kiss, but a hint.
The song picked up speed, and you moved faster. Bodies intertwined in the crowd, hearts beating in unison. You closed your eyes, letting the music drown out your thoughts. Leejin? Who is that? Pain? What pain? There was only this man — his hands, his scent, his gaze when you opened your eyes and met his — dark, hungry, and full of desire.
When the track ended, transitioning into something faster, he didn't let you go. He just stopped, holding your waist, and leaned toward your ear.
"So what's your answer?" he asked hoarsely, his lips barely touching your skin.
You looked at him, your breathing uneven, your lips parted. Your friends? They were somewhere out there, taking a break. The club? Chaos all around. And you... you wanted more. You wanted him to drown out that fire inside with another.
"Your name," you whispered, sliding your hand over his chest, feeling the tattoo under his shirt. "Tell me your name first."
He smiled—wide, defiantly—and leaned in so close that your lips almost touched.
"Jungkook, what about yours?"
You didn't answer him. Instead, you pulled him by the collar of his shirt and kissed him—sharply, hungrily, with a taste of cranberry and whiskey. His lips were soft, his piercing contrasting on your tongue, but the kiss was hot as hell. He responded instantly, pulling you closer, his tongue sliding into your mouth, exploring.
When you broke apart, breathless, he whispered,
"Does that mean ‘yes’?"
You nodded, feeling your heart pound. Jungkook took your hand and pulled you toward the exit—through the crowd, past the bar, onto the street, where the night air of Gangnam hit you with its coolness. Outside the club, he hailed a taxi. Jungkook opened the door for you, and you got in without thinking about the consequences.
The sexual tension that had been building in the club became almost unbearable in this confined space. You could feel his thigh against yours, but he remained surprisingly restrained: he didn't touch you, didn't speak, just looked at you. His gaze was heavy and impatient, and you knew that this restraint was just thin ice before an explosion.
When the taxi stopped at the luxurious ‘GOLDEN HOTEL’, you weren't even surprised. Of course, he had a room in a place like this. He paid the driver, and you followed him.
He didn't give his name at the front desk. The staff greeted him respectfully and simply handed him his key card. In a moment, he led you to the elevator.
You tried to breathe, but the air was electrified. You knew what you were doing. You were going into this consciously. It was your revenge, your escape, your desperate desire to forget that you had been hurt.
The elevator seemed endless. When the doors opened on his floor, he just took your hand, his fingers squeezing your palm, and led you to the end of the corridor. He opened the door, led you inside, and as soon as the lock clicked behind you...
He pressed you against the wall, devouring your lips with a deep, demanding kiss.
All the restraint you had maintained in the taxi exploded in that touch. It was not a gentle invitation, but a demand, and you met his desire with your own, accumulated over the evening.
He broke away from your lips to look into your eyes. His eyes burned with fire, and he exhaled:
"You won't regret your decision, beautiful."
His lips covered yours again, this time more slowly, with force that you felt your back press against the cold wall of the room. Jungkook's hands slid down your waist, clutching the fabric of your dress as if he wanted to tear it right there in the hallway. You responded with a kiss of equal passion—your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, feeling the dampness of his strands that still retained the warmth of the club air. The taste of whiskey on his tongue mingled with your cranberry cocktail, creating an intoxicating elixir that washed away the last traces of pain.
He stopped kissing your lips and moved down to your neck. His hot breath burned your skin.
"You're so hot," he whispered hoarsely, his lips touching the throbbing vein in your neck. You felt his teeth gently bite your skin — not painfully, but enough to send a wave of excitement through your body. Your head fell back against the wall, and your hands involuntarily reached for his shirt. You pulled it off in one motion, revealing a black tank top the outlines of tattoos visible underneath. Your palm slid under the fabric, feeling the warm, smooth skin of his chest — hard muscles tensing under your touch.
Jungkook moaned softly as your nails lightly scratched his skin. His hands moved lower, to your thighs, lifting the hem of your dress. His fingers slid over the bare skin of your legs, leaving traces of fire.
"I want you all night," he murmured, pressing his body against yours. You felt his hardness—firm, tense through his jeans, pressing against your stomach. It aroused a new wave of desire in you; you arched toward him, rubbing against him, feeling the wetness gathering between your legs.
He couldn't resist — with one hand he grabbed your hip, lifting your leg to press closer. His lips moved lower, to your collarbone, where he left a wet kiss, and then lower still, to the edge of your neckline. You felt his tongue slide across the skin above your breasts, and his free hand unzipped the back of your dress. The fabric slid off your shoulders, revealing your lace bra. Jungkook took a step back to look—his eyes darkened as they slid over your body, as if he was already imagining taking off the rest.
"I never doubted for a moment that you were perfect," he breathed, his voice low and full of desire. He leaned down, his lips touching your breasts through the lace, his teeth gently tugging at the edge of the cup. He helped himself with his hand, pulling one of your breasts out of your bra. You moaned as his tongue found your nipple—hard and sensitive with arousal. He sucked slowly, the circular movements of his tongue making your hips tremble. Your hand slid down to his waistband, unfastening the buckle. His jeans slid down, revealing boxers that showed his erection — large and ready to enter you right now.
Jungkook pulled away from your breasts to kiss you again, this time harder. His hand slipped between your legs, his fingers sliding over your panties, feeling the wetness.
"You're already so wet for me," he whispered into your lips, then one finger slid under the fabric, touching your clit. You shuddered, a moan escaping your throat as he teased you with gentle circular movements, not penetrating, only intensifying your desire. Your hand wrapped around him through his boxers, squeezing, feeling him throb in your palm.
He froze for a moment when you squeezed him. His finger stopped on your clitoris, and then he exhaled heavily a millimeter from your lips. His hand gently took yours, pressing it above your head.
"Don't stop me from enjoying you," he whispered into your lips and at that very moment slid his two finger into your passage. You closed your eyes, feeling his fingers stretch your walls, and moaned softly. He made a few movements inside. You felt yourself getting wetter and wetter as you thought about how wonderful it would be when he entered you with his cock.
"You let me to use you," you moaned, pretending to be upset that he wouldn't let you touch him. He kissed you without answering. His tongue invaded your mouth possessively and insistently, and you got high from the slightest movement of his lips and tongue.
Jungkook broke away from your lips only for a moment to look into your eyes — his pupils were dilated, black as an abyss, full of promise. His two fingers moved slowly and teasingly inside you, enjoying your moans and the trembling of the walls that squeezed around him. You felt a wave of pleasure full you, and it was so intense that you involuntarily arched your back, pressing your hips against his palm.
"Are you that greedy?" he whispered hoarsely. The stretching was a sweet pain that turned into pure bliss — he moved deeper, touching a spot that made stars flash before your eyes. Your free hand dug into his shoulder, your nails leaving marks on his skin. He just smiled, quickening his rhythm. "I really let you use me, beautiful. But first, let me show you how it's done right."
His lips descended to your neck again. His kisses brought him to your jaw, rose to your ear, and his teeth gently bit your earlobe. The pain mixed with pleasure, causing a storm of emotions to rage inside you.
His tongue traced a hot path down to your collarbone. You felt completely uninhibited — as if all the weight, all the pain from Leejin, all your restrained, perfect life had dissolved in that moment. With Jungkook, you were different: bold, greedy, alive. You forgot everything — the betrayal, the wedding plans, who you were. There was only this fire inside you, burning brighter with each of his touches, and you gave yourself completely to him, letting your body lead, not your mind.
You reached for his boxers, but he caught your hand again, pressing both of them above your head with one palm. His strength was playful, dominant, but not frightening — on the contrary, it made you melt, feel desired, protected in his power.
"Don't rush," he murmured, slowly removing his fingers from you, making you moan at the loss. He brought them to his lips, licked them, tasting you, his eyes never leaving yours. "You taste like sin. And I want more."
He let go of your hands only to lift you into his arms—lightly, as if you weighed nothing. Your dress slid even lower, exposing your thighs, and you wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing your whole body against him.
He carried you to the bed, across the huge room, kissing you. He walked so confidently, as if he knew the way by heart. The light in the room was dim, and because of his intense kisses, you couldn't see anything around you.
The luxurious room was a large. The big bed with dark sheets, panoramic windows overlooking Gangnam at night — but you barely noticed it. He threw you onto the mattress gently but confidently and stood over you, removing his tank top in one motion.
His body was a masterpiece — pumped-up chest with tattoos that writhed as if alive: chaotic lines covering his right chest and running to his shoulder, complex colorful drawings that you wanted to examine in detail. You reached out, running your fingers over the drawings, feeling the warmth of his skin, the relief of his muscles. He leaned down, removing your dress completely, then your bra — enjoying every inch of your bare skin. Your breasts were freed, your nipples still hardened from arousal and now from the cool air.
"Look at me," he commanded softly, and you obeyed, feeling completely free in this submission. He moved lower, his lips touching your stomach, your thighs, spreading your legs wider.
His breath burned the inside of your thighs, and then—oh God—his tongue slid over your wetness through your panties. You arched your back, moaning loudly, without shame. He pulled the fabric down, exposing you completely, and his mouth covered you — his tongue circled your clitoris, sucked, penetrated inside, imitating what you so desired to feel with his cock.
Pleasant sensations grew wave after wave — you forgot how to breathe evenly, forgot about the world outside the window. You were a different person: uninhibited, moaning incessantly, grabbing his hair and pulling him closer. Every cell in your body sang with pleasure, the pain of the past disappeared, replaced by pure, animalistic ecstasy. You gave yourself completely — your hips moving toward his tongue, your fingers scratching the sheets, your voice begging,
"More... Jungkook, please..."
And he listened. Your moans became more like cries as he began to lick your folds more actively, adding his fingers inside again. You felt the orgasm approaching. The pleasurable tingling sensation in your lower abdomen reached its peak and your fingers squeezed sheets tighter.
You opened your mouth to say that you were close, but one movement of his tongue and you came. The orgasm exploded brightly and blissfully. You squeezed his fingers inside you, your clitoris twitching on his tongue. Jungkook continued to move it, taking it all for himself.
Your thighs trembled and you tried to catch your breath, which had been knocked out by the orgasm. Finally, Jungkook pulled away from you and raised his head, looking at your face, which expressed absolute pleasure. You forced your eyes open and saw him smiling. You reflexively smiled back. He had done a really good job.
Jungkook got up, pulling down his boxers, and his cock sprang free — big, hard, with big veins. He settled between your legs. You watched as he took his cock in his hands and rolled it a few times. You saw pre-cum dripping from the tip. He moved closer, his eyes never leaving your wet, swollen pussy, and tapped your sensitive clit with the head.
Your breathing quickened. This was something new, something you had never felt before. Your hips twitched slightly, and he looked up at your face to gauge your reaction. His gaze was playful, with a spark that promised you unforgettable sensations.
He hit your clitoris with his cock again, this time a little harder, causing you to flinch and bite your lip. Immediately after the blow, he began to run the head of his cock over your folds, as if to soothe you. Jungkook leaned over, resting on one elbow, and kissed you.
"Don't you like it when I do that?" he asked, barely breaking away from your lips.
"I like it," you said, enjoying the way he caressed your clitoris with the head of his cock.
Jungkook purred softly, the sound low and vibrating, as if it passed through your skin straight into your bones. The head of his cock slid over your folds again, smearing wetness and precum, and you felt your body involuntarily reaching for him, as if drawn by a magnet.
"Do you want more?" he asked, but it was a rhetorical question. You were dying to feel him inside you.
"I want," you exhaled. You really couldn't wait for him to enter you. His eyes, black, burning, full of power, didn't let go of yours. He slowly, teasingly ran the head of his cock over your clit again, even harder, and you moaned, your hips jerking as if they wanted to rise up to meet him.
He was still close, his lips barely touching yours, but he didn't kiss you — he just breathed into your mouth, letting you feel his warmth.
"You're so sensitive. I'm not even inside you yet, and you're already trembling."
You moaned from the pleasant sensations he created with the movements of his cock on your pussy. You wanted more, but he seemed to be deliberately delaying. To encourage him to act, one of your hands squeezed his bicep, and the other dug into his shoulder, your nails deliberately scratching his skin a little harder. He didn't stop.
"You still haven't told me your name," he said suddenly. His words caught you off guard. You really hadn't told him your name. But for some reason, you didn't want to.
He pressed himself against your pussy and began to move, stimulating your clitoris with his cock. Your body responded to his movements — your hips involuntarily rose to meet him, seeking more friction, more pressure. The orgasm that had just receded was building again, slowly but inevitably, like a wave gathering strength before crashing onto the shore.
"Is that important right now?" you asked with a slight smile. There was something intriguing about the fact that you knew his name, but he didn't know yours.
"Don't want to tell me?" he chuckled, seemingly enjoying the game you had started. His free hand slid up your thigh, his fingers squeezing your skin as if marking his territory. "It turns me on even more. But I'm used to knowing the name of the girl I bring to an unforgettable orgasm."
His words hit you like an electric shock — right in the pit of your stomach, causing your walls to contract with anticipation. You bit your lip, trying not to moan loudly, but it didn't work: a quiet, hoarse sound escaped you. He smiled defiantly, knowing he had power over you.
"But if you don't want to... I can think of something myself," he continued, looking at your face. "How about a beauty... or better yet, a sinner... or a former bride..." Each word was accompanied by a new movement — his cock slid lower, to the entrance, barely touching, teasing, but not penetrating. You felt your wetness dripping onto the sheets, your body begging for more.
You didn't answer — you just deviated a little and next your hand slid down his abs to his cock — you wrapped your fingers around it, squeezed, moved up and down slowly, feeling it pulse in your palm, the veins tensing under your touch. He exhaled heavily, his eyes closed for a moment, but he didn't stop you this time.
"Fuck..." escaped his lips in a quiet whisper. You smiled — for the first time that evening, you felt that the power had shifted slightly to you. You quickened your movements, your thumb sliding over the head, smearing the precum, and he moaned softly, his hips thrusting forward involuntarily.
"Maybe I just don't want you to know," you finally replied, looking him in the eyes. Your voice was quiet, but with a hint of defiance. "It's better if, for you, I'm were just... a girl from the club. The one you picked up to numb her pain." You squeezed him tighter, and he exhaled through his teeth, leaning in so close that your foreheads touched.
"The girl from the the club..." he repeated, as if tasting the words. His hand rested on yours, stopping your movements—not abruptly, but firmly. "Then I must try to drown out your pain."
He let go of your hand only to lift your legs and throw them over his shoulders. You found yourself completely exposed to him — vulnerable, naked, but it didn't scare you; on the contrary, it aroused you even more. His cock touched your entrance, pressing lightly, stretching you slowly. You felt the head penetrate a centimeter inside, then retreat — again and again, imitating what was about to happen.
The pain from its size was there, but your desire to have it inside you was stronger.
"Please..." you blurted out involuntarily. You didn't recognize your voice — hoarse, pleading, full of despair.
"What is it, girl? What are you asking for?" he asked, smiling. But his eyes were burning with excitement. He leaned down, his lips touching yours, the kiss slow and deep, while his cock still teased you at the entrance.
"Come in..." you breathed into his lips, "just come in already..."
He didn't make you wait any longer. With one slow but confident movement, he entered you completely, stretching your walls, filling you as if you were made for him. You screamed, feeling both pain and pure bliss at the same time. Jungkook froze for a moment, allowing you to get used to it, his breath hot on your neck.
"That's it," he whispered, starting to move — slowly at first, deeply, each thrust drawing a moan from you. "Good girl... it’s so fucking good... You took me so well..."
Your legs were thrown over his shoulders, allowing him to go deeper, touching spots you didn't even know you had. Jungkook held your hips, his fingers digging into your soft skin, leaving light marks, and his gaze never left your face, hungry, as if he were drinking in your reactions.
His hips slammed into yours, the sound of skin on skin mixing with your moans. You arched your back toward him, your breasts bouncing with each thrust, and he leaned down, capturing one with his lips. His teeth bit gently, his tongue swirled, and you felt a new wave of wetness flood the place where you were joined.
You didn't stop moaning, and with each new movement, your moans grew louder. You felt something bordering on euphoria, and the feeling was so wonderful. Jungkook released your nipple with a wet smack and thrust deeper, making you cry out.
"What pleasant sounds..." he said barely audibly through his ragged breathing, "I want to hear more..." His movements became stronger, rhythmic — in, out, each time to the end, touching that sweet spot inside that made your eyes roll back. Your hands were on his hips, your fingers digging into his flesh, forcing him to press against you as tightly as possible. He fucked you lying down, his body on top of you, his muscles tense, sweat beginning to cover his forehead and his whole body with a thin layer. You were sweating too, but neither of you paid any attention to it.
You were close — the orgasm was building again, faster, more intense than the last one. Your body trembled, your walls tightened around him, and you felt him pulsing in response.
"Jungkook... I'm... close..." you exhaled, but he suddenly stopped, still deep inside you, and you moaned in frustration.
"Not so fast, girl from the club" he whispered, kissing your neck. He pulled out, leaving you empty and begging, and flipped you onto your stomach with one confident movement. You found yourself on your knees, face in the pillow, as he pressed himself against you from behind with his whole body—hot, heavy, and dominant. His chest was on your back, one hand slid down to your clit, starting to circle with his fingers, and the other found your hand, squeezing it.
He entered you again—from behind, deeper than before, and you moaned softly into the pillow, feeling him stretch you at a new angle. Jungkook exhaled heavily as he began to fuck you. His hips pushed you forward, the sound of your sex filling the room, his weight pressing you into the mattress, preventing you from escaping the pleasure. You felt his breath on the back of your neck, his lips biting your shoulder, his tongue licking your skin. His hand on your clitoris quickened, his fingers sliding through the wetness, and you trembled beneath him, completely subjugated.
The orgasm hit you suddenly—you screamed, squeezing him inside you, your body convulsing. He didn't stop, continuing to move through your contractions, prolonging the bliss until you relaxed, breathless.
Then he pulled out, turned you onto your back, and sat back against the headboard, leaning on the pillows. He still hadn't come. His cock stood hard, glistening with your wetness, and he beckoned you with his finger.
"Come here, beautiful. Sit on me. I want to see your face when you come again."
Still trembling, you crawled over, straddled him, your legs on either side of his hips. You took him in your hand, guided him to the entrance, and lowered yourself slowly—feeling him fill you again, hitting new spots at this angle. You moaned as you began to move — up and down, circling your hips. His hands on your waist guided you, his fingers digging in, his eyes looking into yours.
"So good," you exhaled, unable to contain the pleasure inside. Jungkook smiled. He began to move his hips toward you, pressing you down to be deep inside you, then sat up, wrapping his arms around your body.
You opened your eyes, lowering them slightly, and met his gaze. He looked at your half-open lips as you continued to move on top of him.
"Did I do my job?" he asked suddenly. You froze for a moment, remembering what his job was supposed to be. Jungkook pushed you hard, knocking the already heavy air out of you.
"What job?" you asked. Jungkook stopped you and you both breathed heavily. He looked at you for a few seconds and then smiled, playfully and, you would even say, triumphantly. His lips found yours. His tongue intertwined with yours, and the wet sounds of your kiss were so pleasant to your ears.
Jungkook released your lips and, an inch away from them, said,
"To drowned out your pain," and kissed you again, pushing his tongue into your mouth. But this kiss was so quick that you didn't even have time to respond properly. "You forgot why you're here, except for sex? Right?"
You froze, feeling his words hit the mark — sharper than any thrust of his hips. Yes, you forgot. You forgot about Leejin, about the betrayal, about the broken heart that burned inside you yesterday like red-hot iron. There was only him — Jungkook, his body beneath you, his cock deep inside you, pulsing in time with your heartbeat. You forgot everything except this heat spreading through your veins, except the desire to move faster, harder, so that this fire would burn away the remnants of pain forever.
You didn't answer with words — you just pressed yourself closer to him, your hand tangled in his hair, pulling his face to yours, and you kissed him — greedily, demandingly, with a taste of salty sweat and whiskey. Your tongue invaded his mouth, exploring, fighting for dominance, but he responded with equal force, squeezing your waist with his fingers as if he wanted to press you into him forever.
"Yes," you finally breathed into his lips, pulling away for a moment to inhale. Your voice was hoarse, almost unfamiliar — full of satisfaction and recognition. "You drowned him. Completely." You pushed your hips down harder, feeling him go deeper, hitting that spot that made your eyes roll back. A moan escaped your throat—loud, unashamed, and you didn't try to hold it back.
Jungkook laughed low. His hands moved lower, to your buttocks, squeezing them, guiding your movements.
"Okay," he whispered, pushing his hips up to meet you, making you bounce. "Come on, use me, girl whatever you want. Show me what you can do when you're not thinking about him."
His words ignited something primal in you—you sped up, moving up and down faster, circling your hips, squeezing him inside you deliberately to hear him moan. His head fell back on the pillow, his eyes half-closed, his lips parted—he looked so sexy, so vulnerable in that moment that you felt a rush of power. Your hand slid over his chest, your nails scratching the tattoo on his skin, leaving red marks, and he hissed with pleasure, pushing you harder.
"Fuck, you're... perfect," he muttered, one hand rising to your breasts, squeezing one, his thumb circling your nipple. You arched your back, letting him play, but not stopping — your movements became chaotic, desperate, the orgasm building again. You felt wetness running down your thighs, down his, as the place where you joined became slippery, hot, perfect.
"Come for me," he commanded hoarsely, one hand sliding between your bodies, his fingers finding your clitoris, beginning to rub it quickly, mercilessly. "I want to feel you squeeze me. I want to hear you scream my name."
It was too much—his fingers, his cock, his voice. The orgasm hit you like a tsunami: you screamed, squeezing him inside you, your thighs trembling.
"Jungkook!" His name burst out loud, breaking into a moan. He didn't stop, continuing to move through your contractions, prolonging the wave, but you felt him harden inside you as much as possible.
With one quick movement, he pulled you off his cock and spilled between your bodies. You froze above him, feeling the hot drops of his cum spread across your skin — on your stomach, on your thighs, sticky and warm, like the final seal of this crazy evening.
Your body was still trembling from the afterglow of orgasm, your walls throbbing with emptiness, your breathing so heavy that your chest rose and fell in unison with his. Jungkook lay beneath you, his eyes half-closed, his lips parted in a satisfied smile — the piercing on his lower lip glinted in the dim light of the lamp. His hand slid lazily down your back, his fingers tracing an invisible pattern on your sweaty skin, as if he didn't want to let go of the moment.
"Fuck... that was incredible," he muttered hoarsely, his voice low and satisfied, with a hint of laughter. He lifted his head to look down at the mess between your bodies, at the glistening semen running down his abs.
You couldn't help but smile — a weak but sincere smile, the first in a long time without a hint of pain. You slid off him slowly, your legs still weak, and sat down next to him. Jungkook turned to you, pulled you closer with one hand around your waist, and your bodies touched again—sweaty, perfectly matched.
"Wanna help me clean up this mess, girl from the club?"
He nodded down at his stomach, and you smiled seductively, knowing what he was hinting at. Today, you felt more freedom in your actions than ever before. You leaned down, your lips touching his skin — first on his chest where there were small splashes, then lower, your tongue sliding over the salty semen, tasting the mixture of both of you.
Jungkook made a low guttural sound, his hand tangled in your hair, not pressing, just holding. You licked again, slowly, and felt his cock twitch nearby — still semi-hard, sensitive after everything.
"You... are dangerous," he exhaled, pulling you back up for a kiss — slow, lazy, unhurried. His tongue slid over your lips, testing you, and you responded, wrapping your arms around his neck. The world outside the window — nighttime Gangnam with its neon lights — seemed distant, unreal. There was only this room, this bed, this man who drowned your pain better than any alcohol or revenge.
You were the first to break the kiss, you looked at each other for a moment, and then you lay down flat. You stared at the dark ceiling, trying to steady your breathing and not think about the fact that you had just had sex with a stranger for the first time in your life. You had to admit that this stranger had given you some of the best orgasms of your life.
You felt Jungkook move closer, carefully covering you with a sheet to cover your naked body. But instead of just lying down next to you, he pressed himself against you, hugging you. His nose touched your jaw, tickling your skin with his breath. You felt pleasure from his unobtrusive embrace and the strength of his body. But was it normal? To lie in bed with a man you had known for a few hours, after crazy sex, and just cuddle?
What would be the right thing to do? Take a shower and leave? Or continue lying there with him until you fall asleep? Usually, after sex, you would take a shower, and then you and Leejin would fall asleep in each other's arms. Lately, after sex, he didn't fall asleep with you, but went to the kitchen or living room, pretending to work. Only now did you realize that he was probably going to talk to his colleague, with whom he was cheating on you.
You felt him put his hand on your thigh and begin to caress your skin with gentle, unhurried movements.
"Is this necessary?" your voice suddenly broke the silence. Jungkook's fingers stopped. He propped himself up on his elbow to look at you.
"What exactly are you asking, beautiful?" he asked, looking straight into your eyes, which reflected the lights of the night city.
"This embrace and tenderness," you replied.
He looked at you for a few seconds, as if pondering your question, and then smiled slightly — not defiantly, as before, but more softly, with a hint of warmth that contrasted with his rebellious appearance. His fingers continued to glide over your skin, lightly, like a feather, drawing invisible circles that sent pleasant sensations through you. He leaned closer, his nose touching your cheek, and you felt his hot breath.
"Necessary? No," Jungkook whispered low, his voice hoarse with exhaustion but still full of that confidence. "But you look like you need it. Besides you need some rest. I'm not done with you yet."
You were a little shocked; you had just experienced orgasms that tore you apart, and you thought it was over. You almost laughed, but all that came out was a quiet, surprised exhalation.
"More? Are you serious? We just finis..." you said, but he didn't let you finish. He simply turned you on your side and pressed himself against you from behind. His soft cock touched your buttocks. One arm wrapped around your waist, pressing your back against his chest, and the other slid down your stomach, caressing your skin gently, as if to soothe you.
You felt his lips touch the back of your neck — a light kiss, then another on your neck. He didn't rush, didn't insist, just held you, letting your heart rate slow down. Your body, still sensitive after everything, reacted to every touch: goosebumps ran across your skin, your nipples hardened from the coolness of the sheets and the warmth of his palm.
"Seriously," he murmured into your hair, his voice vibrating against your skin. "You think once is enough? No, girl from the club. I told you I want you all night."
You don't know how much time passed while you were lying quietly in each other's arms. You were already starting to fall asleep when you felt it. His hand moved lower, his fingers sliding purposefully between your thighs, barely touching the swollen folds, still wet from before. You shuddered, a quiet breath escaping involuntarily as his finger found your clitoris, circling gently, as if checking how ready you were.
You were surprised at yourself, at how your body responded: moisture gathered instantly, your thighs involuntarily spread wider, inviting him in. He felt it — a quiet laugh sounded near your ear.
"See? You want it too." His erection, which was starting to harden again, began to press harder against your buttocks. He kissed your neck, his teeth gently biting your earlobe, and his hand between your legs quickened: two fingers slipped inside, stretching you, making you arch in his embrace.
You turned your head, searching for his lips, and he met you with a kiss — not greedy like before, but deep, with a growing thirst. Your tongue intertwined with his, you responded with equal force, your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer. He rolled you onto your back in one motion, without removing his fingers — now you were lying beneath him, legs spread, his body above you. He positioned himself between your thighs, his cock touching your entrance, sliding along your wetness, but not entering.
"Jungkook..." you moaned, your hips rising to meet him. He smiled, his eyes flashing in the semi-darkness, and finally he entered, filling you completely. You moaned softly, feeling him stretch your walls, touching every sensitive spot. He moved slowly, each thrust deep and measured, as if enjoying every second. His lips were on your breasts, his tongue explored almost every inch of your body, his teeth bit gently, and you didn't know if you had ever felt so satisfied and desired in someone's arms.
You made love for hours — slowly, then faster, changing positions, as if you couldn't get enough. You didn't sleep until morning — just breathing heavily, laughing quietly between kisses, your bodies intertwining again and again. The light outside the window turned gray, Gangnam woke up, and you were still in each other's arms, his cock inside you for the last time, your movements lazy, as if saying goodbye.
Finally, in the early hours of the morning, you were both exhausted. You fell asleep in each other's arms, and you were the first to wake up. Your body ached with pain and fatigue, but you had to go. You grabbed your phone and saw missed calls from your friends and text messages. You quickly wrote that you were fine and that you would tell them everything later.
Quietly, almost like a shadow, you slipped out of his warm and pleasant embrace, and your skin immediately broke out in goose bumps. You quickly got dressed, feeling the scent of his perfume on your skin and clothes, which you will never forget.
You felt that you couldn't leave without a trace. But you didn't want to wake him up. You carefully took 10,000 won out of your purse and put it on the table in the living room, finally noticing how large and luxurious the room was. You wrote him a short note. And you quietly left, letting him sleep.
Jungkook woke up feeling slightly tired. The sex with the girl from the club all night long was just incredible. He hadn't felt such pleasure in a long time; it seemed that the girl was just made for him.
His hand fell on the spot next to him and immediately felt the coolness. Jongkook turned around, opened one eye, and noticed that the girl was nowhere to be found. The thought immediately flashed through his mind that she had left, but he hoped that she was in the shower or somewhere in the room.
He got up, barely found his black Calvin Klein boxers that sat low on his hips, and rubbed his sleepy eyes to clear his vision a little. His hair was sticking out in all directions, and his lips were slightly swollen from sleep and the hundreds of kisses he had received that night.
Jungkook went into the bathroom, but everything was dry, with no signs that she had taken a shower. He went out to the living room, and everything was in its place there too. He touched his face with his palm, smiling.
His gaze swept over the perfectly tidy room, but there was no trace of her. He ran his hand through his hair, trying to collect his thoughts. The girl from the club. He didn't even find out her name or give her his phone number. She disappeared like a ghost, leaving behind only memories of her moans, her taste, her body that responded so perfectly to his every touch.
He returned to the bedroom, glancing at the bed where just yesterday they couldn't tear themselves away from each other. His lips involuntarily stretched into a smile — bold, but with a hint of irritation. She had run away. After a night like that. She had awakened an interest in him he couldn't explain, but she made his heart beat faster when he remembered her gaze — sad at first, then so wild, so free during their intimacy.
He sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing his neck, feeling a slight ache in his muscles — a pleasant reminder of how she had scratched his back, how she had gripped his hair, how she had screamed his name. Jungkook bent down to pick up his shirt from the floor, and his gaze caught on something on the bedside table. Something that hadn't been there yesterday.
A note. And a 10,000 won bill, neatly folded underneath it.
He frowned, feeling a tightness in his chest. Jungkook picked up the piece of paper, pinching it casually between two fingers. He read the lines written in neat but slightly chaotic handwriting:
"You're more intoxicating than any cocktail. Thank you for the night when I forgot about everything."
Jungkook laughed out loud. He reread it again. And again. He didn't expect that a trip to the bar would end with him picking up a girl. And what was even funnier in this situation was that she left him money after sex as if he were her one-time fling. It was funny, but she really used him.
He got up, threw the note into the pocket of his jeans lying on the floor, and went to take a shower. The cold water should have washed her out of his mind, but it couldn't. He stood under the jets, closed his eyes, and saw her — how she bit her lip when he teased her clit, how her thighs trembled when she came. His hand involuntarily clenched into a fist, hitting the tile. He wasn't used to this. He wasn't used to someone leaving him with a feeling of emptiness.
Jungkook turned off the water, dried himself with a towel, and returned to the bedroom. He put on the new clothes that had been delivered to the room.
Jungkook drove to the office, gripping the steering wheel tightly, but his thoughts kept returning to girl from the club. He needed to focus, but he couldn't.
His phone vibrated, and the name "Jimin-hyung" lit up on the dashboard.
"Hello," he answered, keeping his eyes on the road.
"Hey, buddy, where did you disappear to yesterday so suddenly that you didn't even answer your calls?" Jimin's voice was, as always, too cheerful for the morning.
Jungkook decided to lie, not saying what the real reason for his disappearance was.
"I got bored, so I decided to go home."
But Jungkook's lie didn't work.
"Come on, do you think I'm stupid? I saw you approach the girl sitting at the bar. Besides, you would never leave without saying goodbye! Admit it, you picked her up, didn't you?"
Jimin held his breath, hoping he was right, but Jungkook just smiled quietly and told the truth this time.
"Yes, Jimin-hyung, I hooked up with the girl!"
Jimin rejoiced for his friend too loudly, forcing Jungkook to turn down the volume.
"Finally... finally this guy had sex. So should I call Grandpa to congratulate him that he has a candidate for daughter-in-law for Jeon family?"
Jungkook rolled his eyes slightly at his friend's violent reaction and, stopping at a traffic light, finally glanced at the dashboard.
"Don't say anything to Grandpa. He doesn't need to know that I was with someone. Besides, nothing will happen with that girl," said Jungkook, his voice taking on a cold tone.
"Why?" Jimin asked briefly.
"Because it was just one night..." Jungkook replied. Jimin didn't answer, letting Jungkook continue talking. "She didn't tell me her name, but she left 10,000 won... can you imagine?"
There was a moment of silence, and then Jimin burst out laughing, which made Jungkook quietly chuckle too at the surrealism of the situation.
"Seriously? You fucked a girl without even knowing her name. Damn, were you so busy that it wasn't an urgent question?" Jimin continued to laugh into the phone.
"I was busy, but I asked her twice. She didn't say," Jungkook justified himself.
"Oh my..." Jimin was surprised, "that's interesting... but 10,000 won? Man, she valued you so highly, I have to congratulate you," he said ironically. Jungkook snorted.
"Thanks," he said and pressed the gas pedal, pulling away.
"Okay, I'll wait for you at the office. I need to hear the whole story with all the juicy details," said Jimin.
"I'll be there in 10 minutes," Jungkook said and hung up, but the smile didn't fade. He knew that Jimin would pester him with questions and he would have to tell him everything. But he didn't mind reliving the events of last night.
The song that inspired me to write ❤️🔥 is quite old, but I love it 💜
summary. when you complain to jungkook about your lack of action in the past year, you're not really asking for a solution. but when he casually offers to help, you just can't seem to bring yourself to say no.
after all, what's the worst that could happen in hooking up just this once?
pairing: jeon jungkook x f!reader
genre: friends to lovers, smut, fluff, slight angst
word count: 7.7k
warnings: swearing, they actually talk about their feelings :0, explicit sexual content (mdni), kissing, making out, hickeys, dry humping, oral (f. receiving), multiple orgasms, unprotected sex (be smarter than them pls), a bit of banter, petnames (baby), they're really fucking cute in the end it makes me sick, let me know if i missed anything!
notes: idk if this counts as my first completed series buttt... i'm gonna act like it does. thank you so so much to all the love and support you guys have given me for the past two parts, i'm genuinely so beyond grateful for it all :<< hopefully, you guys enjoy this part too!!
ps. READ PART ONE HERE & PART TWO HERE!!
⌗ masterlist. ⌗ taglist. ⌗ feedback
You open his chat window again like it’s muscle memory. Like your thumb doesn’t know how to not betray you.
It’s not even about sending something. You’ve got no intention of doing that. At least, that’s what you tell yourself. But the screen is always open, staring back at you with that last unread message you sent almost a week ago — a throwaway meme you found on your lunch break. No reply. Not even a reaction.
And it hadn’t felt like a big deal in the moment. You sent it like always, light and dumb and nothing. But then the nothing kept going. No little gray typing bubble. No 'lol.' No double text. No late night 'you up?' Just this wall of silence.
You would’ve rather gotten a dry reply. Hell, even a thumbs up. Anything to prove that he saw you.
But now it’s been long enough that sending something new would feel desperate. Like you’re chasing him. Like you’re asking for something you’re not even supposed to want.
You lock your phone and throw it face down on your bed.
Then pick it back up five seconds later.
Then toss it again, harder, as if that’ll prove something.
You wish you were mad. You think you are mad — at least a little. But it’s a tangled kind of anger. One that knots itself up with embarrassment and sharp, bitter shame. You want to scream at him, yeah. But also at yourself.
Why did you let this happen?
Why did you let him blur the lines and kiss you like that and touch you like he meant it?
You were supposed to be smarter than this.
You lie back across your bed with one arm flung over your eyes. It’s stupid. You know it’s stupid. It was just sex. Just two nights. Two insanely good, dangerously close, way-too-connected nights. But still — technically just sex.
Except it wasn’t.
Not when he remembered your favourite sauce order without asking. Not when he brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear while you ranted about work.
And especially not when he went cold the second things felt too good.
That’s what keeps twisting the knife. That shift in him. Like someone flipped a switch and rewrote the script. One minute, he was holding you like you mattered. The next, you were stepping out of his bathroom and into a stranger’s apartment.
You haven’t heard his voice since.
You bite the inside of your cheek and squeeze your eyes shut, trying to push down that lump of feeling before it rises too high.
It’s fine. You’re fine. You’re overthinking it.
Maybe he’s just going through something. Maybe he didn’t mean to shut you out. Maybe he thought you didn’t want to hear from him. Or maybe he’s just a fucking coward who got scared when the stakes changed.
But then, why didn’t you reach out?
Why didn’t you ask if he was okay, or tell him he was being weird, or demand an explanation like you’re owed one?
Because you’re afraid.
Because you don’t want the truth if the truth is that he regrets all of it.
Because deep down, you know this isn’t just a friendship anymore, and pretending it is would break you worse than silence.
Your phone buzzes once on the comforter beside you.
You freeze. Then sit up fast, breath catching halfway in your throat.
Your eyes are already scanning the screen before your brain can fully catch up.
Kook 🍜: hi
One word. Just hi. Like the last seven days didn’t happen. Like your stomach hasn’t been in knots trying to make sense of his silence. Like he didn’t vanish without warning after folding you into his sheets and leaving you to figure out what the hell it meant.
Your breath leaves you in one uneven exhale.
You blink at the message, your body locked in this strange stillness. Your thumb hovers, frozen. Part of you is tempted to stare at it until it disappears. Ignore it. Let him feel what it’s like to be the one left hanging. But your hands betray you again — just like they always do with him.
You: Radio silence for a week and all I get is a fucking hi? Wtf Jungkook
It’s not even what you really want to say, but it’s the closest thing you can manage that doesn’t sound like I missed you so much it made me sick or please don’t do this again.
Three dots appear.
Your heart squeezes like it’s caught in someone’s fist. And then the dots vanish.
Then come back.
Then vanish again.
You mutter, “Fucking say something,” to no one. It comes out too small, too desperate. You shut your eyes tight for a second like you can wring the feeling out of yourself by force.
A minute or so passes before his reply finally sends.
Kook 🍜: sorry. can i talk to you today?
You reread it so many times the text starts to lose meaning. Can I talk to you today?
You feel sick.
There’s no way you don’t know what this is. The phrasing. The tone. He wants to talk? What the fuck else could that mean, if not that he’s about to cut things off? That he’s going to hand you some polite little speech about how you’re great, but this can’t happen again. That he wants to stay friends and he doesn’t want to confuse things any more than he already has.
Or worse — he thinks you guys are better off cutting contact all together.
You bite down hard on your thumb, suddenly on the verge of tears and furious at yourself for it. You should’ve never let it get here. You should’ve drawn the line before the second time. Before the car. Before the party.
You should’ve been more careful with your heart.
But you’re here now. So far past the line you can’t even see it anymore.
You open your keyboard, then close it again. You want to ask what he wants to talk about. You want to demand answers over text so you don’t have to see his face when he says the words. But you know you won’t get anything that way.
You: Where?
Kook 🍜: i can come to yours
You sit there for a second, just breathing. You feel like you’re bracing for a crash that’s already midair.
You: What time?
Kook 🍜: i can be there in an hour?
You don’t answer. Not right away. You’re too busy staring at your reflection in the dark screen, wondering why your face looks so calm when your body feels like it’s trying to collapse in on itself.
You: Okay
You put the phone down carefully, like it might go off again, or explode, and turn your gaze to the ceiling. Every minute after this is going to stretch like it’s mocking you.
You don’t know if you’re getting closure or clarity. You don’t even know which one would hurt more.
But you know you won't cancel.
Because if this is going to end — if he’s going to say it — it has to be to your face. You need to see it.
You need to know for sure.
Jungkook is fucked.
Like, actually, cosmically, irreversibly fucked.
He stares at the elevator doors like they’re the gates to hell, and his own reflection in the brushed metal does him no favours. He looks tense. Jaw tight, shoulders hunched up high like he’s trying to fold himself into a more manageable version. Someone chill. Someone who isn’t about to shit himself over the thought of seeing you.
He rolls his shoulders back, shakes out his hands. Useless. He’s already sweating through his hoodie.
Every nerve in his body feels like it’s tuned an octave too high. Like if someone so much as breathes in his direction right now, he’ll either snap or confess something humiliating.
He wipes his palms on his jeans again. That’s the fourth time since the lobby.
The worst part is, he knows how he got here. He knows exactly when it happened, too — the moment the line moved.
It was your laugh. The tired kind, all cracked at the edges after that hellish Friday you had. You were curled up in his passenger seat, half out of it, feet tucked under you, and you’d looked over at him with that soft, worn-down smile.
And it just… hit him.
The weight of it. Of you.
He wanted to reach over and touch your face. Not to tease. Not to start something. Just to feel your skin under his fingers like it was allowed now.
And the second that thought formed — clear and blinding and way too tender — it was over. Game fucking over.
Because it wasn’t supposed to feel like that.
You’re his best friend. Have been for years. He knows how you take your coffee, how you organise your playlists by mood, how you chew on the inside of your cheek when you're anxious. You’re not just some girl he hooked up with at a party. You’re you.
And now, he’s standing in an elevator on the way to your apartment, trying not to think about how badly he messed it all up.
He hadn’t meant to ghost you. Not really. It was just — after that night, after the way you looked at him, all warm and trusting — he panicked. Full-body, brain-scrambling, total system failure. He couldn’t even look at you without feeling like he was seconds from saying something stupid like "Don’t sleep with anyone else, please," or "I think I’m in love with you."
So instead, he shut down. Did the one thing he always swore he wouldn’t do with you — he pulled away. Got weird. Avoided it. Avoided you.
And now you’re pissed.
Rightfully so.
He deserved that text you sent. Probably worse. You could’ve ignored him completely and he wouldn’t have blamed you. But you didn’t. You texted back and he’s clinging onto that like a lifeline. Because it means there’s still time. Still a chance to fix it — if he doesn’t blow it again.
He presses the heel of his hand to his chest like that might steady the erratic rhythm of his heart.
What the fuck is he even going to say?
Sorry for being an emotionally constipated idiot?
Sorry I ghosted you because I realised I’m in love with you and it short-circuited my whole fucking personality?
Sorry I thought I could fuck you and still keep pretending like you don’t mean more to me than anyone else?
The elevator dings.
Jungkook flinches like it slapped him, then scrubs a hand through his hair, lets out a tight breath, and steps through the doors before he can change his mind.
He’s here.
Fuck. He’s actually here.
Jungkook looks like he didn’t sleep last night. Hair messy, clothes a little wrinkled, eyes flicking up to meet yours for a second before they dart away again. His hands are shoved into the pockets of his jacket like he’s afraid of what they’ll do if left unsupervised.
You tell yourself not to feel relieved. Not to let it show. He didn’t cancel. He showed up. That shouldn’t mean as much as it does. It really, really shouldn’t.
But still — there’s something in your chest that unclenches when you see him standing there, real and present. Even if he does look like he’s about to apologise for burning down your house or something.
“Hey,” he says, voice quiet.
You step back from the door to let him in. Dry. Wordless. The move is automatic, but your body feels stiff with it, like your own muscles are annoyed on your behalf.
He hesitates before stepping inside, like he thinks the floor might swallow him up. You don't offer a smile. Don't even look at him once the door’s closed behind him.
You cross your arms and lean back against the edge of the kitchen counter, watching him with a blank expression that’s only half-real. The other half is tightly coiled under your skin — anger, sure, but under that, all the feelings you’ve been pretending not to have.
He does a slow, uncertain glance around your apartment like something might’ve changed since the last time he was here. But it hasn’t. It’s still your place. Same plants, same overhead light humming softly, same faint scent of laundry detergent that clings to the air.
He stands there awkwardly, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. It’s like he doesn’t know where to put his body.
You’ve never seen him like this before. Not around you. Jungkook’s always been comfortable here. The kind of comfortable that leaves shoes by the door without asking. The kind that opens your fridge like he owns a shelf. But right now, he looks like a stranger in someone else’s house.
You let the silence stretch out. You’re waiting for him to just speak, but he doesn’t
He doesn’t even try.
Eventually, your voice cuts through the air, a little too sharp. “Jungkook, you said you wanted to talk.”
His head snaps up like he forgot that was part of the deal. Like the fact that he came here at all already cost him everything he had in reserve.
“Yeah,” he says. His throat moves when he swallows. “I do.”
You raise your eyebrows, waiting.
He opens his mouth like he’s about to start, then closes it again. Shifts his stance. Rubs the back of his neck with one hand. You catch the way his eyes flick to the floor, then back to you, then away again.
You narrow your eyes. “Well?”
He breathes out a weak, almost bitter laugh and runs both hands down his thighs, like he’s physically trying to ground himself. “I don’t know how to do this,” he mutters.
You frown, arms still crossed tight across your chest. “What? Talk?”
You hate being like this towards him — you feel like a bitch. But it’s the only way that you can stop yourself from just spilling all of your thoughts and feelings to him.
“No, I—” He breaks off, jaw flexing. “No. I mean… say the right thing. Say any of it without sounding like an idiot.”
You blink, unimpressed. “So you came here without knowing what you were gonna say.”
He looks at you then. Fully. And for the first time since he walked in, you see the real wreckage behind his eyes. There’s nothing cool or casual about it. He’s unravelling in slow motion. Everything about him is quiet desperation wrapped in someone trying really hard not to fall apart.
“I didn’t know what to say because I didn’t know what I wanted,” he says finally. “And then I figured it out, and that somehow made it worse.”
You stay silent.
He shifts closer, not by much — just a few inches. “I fucked up,” he adds, voice barely above a whisper. “I know I did. I know I disappeared. I didn’t mean to make you feel like I didn’t care. I was just—” he stops, jaw tightening again. “I got scared.”
You scoff under your breath and look away.
“I’m serious,” he says, softer now. “It freaked me out. How fast it happened. How much it changed.”
You look back at him, jaw set. “What changed?”
He swallows again. Stiff. His voice cracks a little when he speaks next.
“You,” he says again. “How I feel about you. That changed.”
Your chest tightens.
You don’t react, not visibly. You keep your face still, unreadable, even though your brain is suddenly scrambling. You’ve been yanked in too many directions this past week. You’re not going to lean into hope just because he finally decided to speak.
So you say nothing. You just hold his gaze and wait.
Jungkook takes a breath, his shoulders rising with it, then falling in a slow, deliberate exhale. The nervousness is still there — but it’s settled into something quieter now.
“I kept trying to tell myself it didn’t mean anything,” he says. “That it was just— whatever. Two friends, getting carried away. We were drunk the first time, right? It was easy to lie to myself about that. Easy to say it didn’t have to go anywhere.”
His voice is calm, but there's tension underneath it.
“But the second time?” He pauses, tongue running along the inside of his cheek, eyes still locked on yours. “That wasn’t drunk. That wasn’t casual. That was me driving us across town just to make you feel better, because I can’t stand it when you’re not okay.”
You flinch — barely — but he sees it. You know he does.
“And then it was me kissing you like I’d lose my mind if I didn’t. You think I didn’t notice how different that felt? I’ve never kissed you like that before. And I haven’t stopped thinking about it since.”
The weight of his words hangs in the air between you.
You’re still standing by the counter, arms crossed, but now your grip has loosened. You hate how much this is getting to you, how badly you want to give in, how your chest aches just hearing him say the things you’d only let yourself think when the lights were off and your phone screen was dark.
Jungkook takes another step toward you.
“When I brought you back to mine that night… when you came out of the shower, and I saw you just standing there in my space, looking at me like I was safe…” His voice catches, but not in a way that makes him crumble — just enough to show the truth of it. “I freaked the fuck out.”
You blink at him, finally speaking. “Yeah. I noticed.”
He huffs out a breath that's almost a laugh, but not quite. “I didn’t mean to shut down. I didn’t even know what I was doing in the moment. I just— everything in me wanted to pull you close, and that’s when I realised I couldn’t keep doing this the way we were doing it. Not without losing my shit every time you left.”
Your throat feels tight, but you still ask, “So you decided to ghost me instead?”
That lands. His jaw flexes, and he nods once. “Yeah. I did. I thought if I gave it space, I could go back to being normal. Go back to just being your friend. But I couldn’t. I can’t.
“I don’t want to be just your friend anymore. Not because of the sex, not because it was good— which it was, but that’s not the point. It’s you. It’s always been you. I didn’t realise how much until I almost lost it completely.”
You swallow hard. Your arms are uncrossed now. Not folded in, not defensive — just hanging at your sides like you’re too stunned to remember what to do with them.
Jungkook steps in closer. Not touching you yet. But near enough that you can smell him — faint cologne, his laundry detergent, the scent you associate with your car windows fogging up.
“I missed you,” he says, and his voice turns softer. “Every day. And it scared the shit out of me, how badly I wanted to talk to you. Touch you. Just be around you. I wasn’t ready to admit it last week, and I was a coward for that. But I’m not running anymore.”
Silence again.
Except it doesn’t feel like the ones you’ve been drowning in for a week.
“I don’t know what you’re feeling,” he says, lower now, like the words might break if he’s too loud. “And I’m not assuming anything. But if you still want me around— really want me— just say the word. I’ll figure out the rest.”
You inhale slowly, try to even out your breathing, but your chest still feels like it’s barely holding together. Your heart’s doing that thing where it thuds too hard without speeding up.
You hate that you believe him. That you always would’ve. That no matter how angry you were, no matter how cold you tried to be when he walked in — you still wanted him to explain, to prove it wasn’t what your worst thoughts told you it was.
And now he has.
He’s standing in front of you with open hands, with the words you oh so desperately wanted to hear. And for a moment, you’re not sure what to do with that.
“I hate you,” you say quietly.
It’s not true. Not even close. But it’s the first thing that leaves your mouth.
Jungkook huffs out a dry laugh, eyes dropping to the floor. “Yeah,” he murmurs, nodding. “I figured.”
You shake your head once. “No. I mean it. I fucking hate you for this. For—” You break off, because your voice is shaking now. “For making me feel like I was crazy. For not even saying goodnight after… after everything.”
His face tightens, but he doesn’t interrupt.
“You could’ve just told me,” you go on. “You could’ve said it was too much. That it got weird. That you needed time. Anything. But you disappeared. And I had to sit here wondering if I made it all up."
You pause, pressing your lips together.
“And I— I missed you too, you know,” you add, quieter this time.
His mouth opens like he might speak, but no sound comes out at first. Instead, he closes the space between you by half, slow and steady, like he’s afraid of pushing too far.
“God, you’re such an asshole,” you whisper, but your tone isn't mean. Not even close.
He laughs, soft and low. “Yeah. I know.
“You promise me you’re sure? Cause Jungkook, I will fucking cut off your dick if you pull this shit again.”
He smiles but doesn’t hesitate. “I promise. I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”
You stare at him.
Long enough that the air between you stretches taut, thin as thread.
His hand twitches like he wants to reach for you but still doesn’t know if he’s allowed. His jaw flexes, his chest rising and falling in uneven swells. You can tell he’s waiting — for a sign, for a go-ahead, for you.
And even though part of you still wants to be mad, still wants to make him sweat just a little longer, the rest of you aches. For his mouth. For his hands. For the solid, grounding weight of him.
So you move.
You step into the last inch of space between you and grab the front of his hoodie. He exhales like he’s been holding his breath for a year, but you don’t give him a chance to say anything.
You kiss him.
At first, it’s quiet. Just lips pressed to lips gently. There’s a pause between each pass of your mouth over his, like you’re both trying to remember how this started. How you even got here.
But then he sighs against you and it unravels something.
His hands lift, hesitating for only half a second before they settle on your waist, fingers curling tight. You press closer, and his lips part beneath yours. The angle shifts. Your nose bumps his cheek.
The sweetness melts fast.
He makes a sound low in his throat and drags you in like the distance is unbearable. Your hands slide up into his hair, fingers threading through the strands at the base of his neck, and the way he reacts — the little shiver he tries to swallow — sends heat straight down your spine.
You kiss him harder.
His body crowds yours until your back meets the wall. His chest presses to yours, and you can feel the way his heart races. How your own pulse kicks up to match it.
The kiss deepens, turns messy at the edges. His teeth catch your bottom lip and your breath stutters, but you don’t pull back. You tilt your chin, chasing more, and the next time he kisses you, it’s hungrier. One of his hands slips to the small of your back, palm dragging slow and warm beneath your shirt. The skin-to-skin contact makes your whole body twitch.
You gasp into his mouth, and he swallows the sound, his hands tightening. His other arm slips around your waist completely, pulling you flush against him, and suddenly you’re not thinking anymore.
The tension that’s been bottling up between you two — the silence, the week of wondering, the ache of missing him so much it hurt — it all floods to the surface.
You fist your hands in his hoodie, yanking him impossibly closer. Your hips shift forward, just enough to brush him, and the sound he makes is sharp and involuntary, caught between a breath and a groan.
“Fuck,” he mutters, barely pulling back. His forehead presses to yours, breath ragged. “You’re driving me insane.”
You huff, lips brushing his. “That’s fair.”
He doesn’t stay at your mouth for long. His lips trail down — your jaw, your cheek, the shell of your ear. His breath is hot and uneven, and when he finds your neck, your whole body reacts. Your hands clutch at him, your back arches off the wall, and the soft sound that escapes your throat isn’t one you mean to make.
He feels it. Hears it. Answers it with a low, reverent sound that seems to vibrate straight through you.
His tongue traces the spot beneath your ear and your eyes flutter shut.
Your fingers tighten in his hair, your breath catching sharp in your throat. You pull back for a second before lowering your mouth to his neck, right where the collar of his hoodie dips. He lets out a small sound, hands flexing on your waist, when your lips press there.
You start slow. You can feel his pulse under your tongue, the way his chest rises against yours, unsteady and warm. Then you part your lips and suck gently at the spot just below his jaw. His whole body stutters, hips jerking against yours before he can stop it.
Your fingers trail down his chest, tugging his hoodie collar aside for better access. His head tips back, eyes squeezed shut, lips parted.
You do it again, this time with enough pressure to leave a mark, and the sound of your mouth working against his skin is lewd.
He groans. It’s low and rough and barely held back, and the sound shoots straight between your legs. You feel him hardening now, undeniable through the fabric where he’s pressed against you.
“All mine?” you whisper, your lips brushing over the new mark you’ve left.
He doesn’t even hesitate. “All yours.”
His voice is breathless. Wrecked. And so damn certain it knocks something loose in your chest.
You pull back just enough to look at him — really look. His pupils are blown, his lips swollen, a flush climbing high on his cheeks. He looks at you like he wants to devour you. Like he would if you let him.
“I missed that mouth,” he mutters, hands gliding under your shirt again, palms broad and warm. “Missed everything.”
You kiss his throat in reply and drag your teeth across it until he swears under his breath.
His hips grind against you again, harder this time. You both feel it — the friction, the heat building between your bodies.
His arms shift beneath you and he lifts you clean off the ground in one smooth motion, hands strong under your thighs. A startled sound escapes your throat as your legs wrap around his waist on instinct, gripping him tight.
“Fuck,” he mutters again, forehead dropping to your shoulder. “I want you so bad it’s actually stupid.”
You smile, drunk on the feel of him.
“Bedroom?” you murmur, tracing your lips over the new mark blooming against his skin.
He hums lowly, and shifts his grip on your thighs.
He carries you through the hallway and your lips never leave his skin for more than a second.
When he reaches your bedroom, he doesn’t hesitate. He steps inside and drops you onto the mattress in one fluid movement.
You barely get your bearings before he’s crawling over you, slotting his body between your legs, His mouth finds yours again, and you moan into it before you can stop yourself when his knee presses between your legs.
Your hips twitch, grinding down against the pressure, and he groans in response, the sound vibrating through your chest as his mouth moves with yours. His hand slips under your shirt again, this time bolder, fingers spanning across your ribs and inching higher until his knuckles brush the curve of your breast.
You gasp softly, and he pulls back just enough to murmur, “Off.”
You sit up just enough to grab the hem of your shirt, tugging it over your head in one smooth pull, your hair mussed from the friction. He watches the fabric fall to the floor, then looks at you.
“You’re so fucking pretty," he breathes.
You roll your eyes automatically, even though your face is already burning. “Shut up.”
“I’m serious,” he says, and his voice drops low. “You have no idea what you do to me.”
His lips part and he kisses along your sternum — slow, wet presses of his mouth that trail up and then out, over the swell of one breast, then the other.
You inhale sharply when his mouth grazes the sensitive skin beside your nipple, and his eyes flick up at the sound, pupils blown. He kisses lower, then higher again, murmuring against your skin, “Can’t believe I went a week without this.”
The vibration of his voice right against your skin makes you arch, and he meets you halfway, grinding down slow and deliberate, like he knows exactly what you’re chasing and wants to stretch it out just to watch you squirm.
Your hands curl into his shoulders, nails biting down just enough to make him grunt softly into your skin. He rolls his hips again, slow and heavy, and the pressure against your core has your breath catching in your throat.
“Koo,” you whine out.
He pulls back just enough to look at you, lips pink and wet, hair falling into his eyes. He grins, crooked and hot and deeply pleased with himself.
“Yeah, baby?” he asks, and his voice is pure sin.
You glare, but your thighs shift open under him anyway.
“Please.”
He hums, satisfied, and starts working his way lower. Every kiss is wet and unhurried. Down your chest, across your stomach. His hands follow, smoothing over your ribs, down to your hips, dragging the waistband of your pants just slightly with them. His thumbs hook in the fabric, pausing right above your pelvis.
He looks up at you, smug and dark-eyed.
“Gonna let me take these off?”
He's so annoying you're gonna kill him. “Do I look like I’m stopping you?”
“No,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss just below your navel, “but I like hearing you say it.”
You huff, fingers threading into his hair again. “Take them off, Kook.”
He eases them down slowly — too slowly — dragging the fabric down your legs while his mouth follows in a path of heat and pressure. He kisses your hipbone, your inner thigh, every patch of skin he uncovers like it’s something sacred. When your panties go next, he makes a quiet sound in the back of his throat — more reverent than smug this time.
You’re already wet, already aching, and from the way his eyes flicker as he takes you in, he fucking knows it.
“Fuck,” he mutters. “You’re soaked. You missed me that much?”
You exhale hard, cheeks hot. “Shut up and do something about it.”
He grins again, slower this time. “Anything you want.”
His hands grip your thighs and spread them further apart, and before you can say another word, his mouth is on you.
The first swipe of his tongue is long, and delibirate. You jerk at the contact, a broken sound slipping from your lips, and he groans like he’s the one falling apart. His hands tighten on your hips, holding you in place, and does it again.
Every movement of his tongue is practiced and precise. He starts slow, almost gentle, licking through your folds with a kind of focus that makes your head spin. Your thighs threaten to close around his head, but he pushes them apart with ease, never breaking rhythm.
Your hands move to the back of his head, gripping tight. His tongue circles your clit once, then again, and the third time he sucks it between his lips. You try to stifle a moan, but it slips from your lips anyway.
He pulls back just enough to speak, breath hot on your skin.
“Keep making those sounds, baby,” he murmurs, voice wrecked. “Wanna hear every fucking thing I do to you.”
He movements turn faster, his mouth messy and hot and relentless. You’re already close, the build-up sharp and climbing, and he can feel it. One of his hands slips lower, spreading you open further with his thumb, and his tongue drags in tighter circles.
You’re writhing, panting, toes curling into the sheets. Your fingers tug at his hair, your spine arching off the bed.
“Fuck— Kook—” you gasp, head thrown back.
He groans again, the sound vibrating straight through your pussy. He doubles down, mouth moving faster, and when your hips start to stutter, erratic and desperate, he presses his hand over your stomach, grounding you.
“You’re gonna come for me?” he murmurs against you, mouth slick with you. “Gonna let me taste it?”
You nod frantically, unable to speak, your whole body wound tight and ready to snap.
He presses his mouth against you again, lips sucking against your clit, and the feeling has you squirming with pleasure.
“Kook—” your voice breaks open as you come hard against his mouth.
He moans, but his movements don't stop.
Your body arches helplessly, heels digging into the bed, one hand fisted in the sheets, the other still tangled in his hair as you ride out the wave. You’re gasping, blinking hard, your heart trying to punch through your ribs.
Only when your legs start to tremble uncontrollably does he finally pull back.
His lips are slick and swollen, jaw damp, hair messy from where you’ve been gripping it. And he looks wrecked — eyes heavy-lidded, pupils blown wide, like just being between your thighs has undone something in him.
He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, then drags his lips slowly up your inner thigh, leaving lazy kisses in his wake.
You’re still catching your breath, staring at the ceiling like your soul just left your body, when he plants a final kiss on the inside of your knee and murmurs, “Yeah. I’m never ghosting you again.”
You let out a breathless laugh, too blissed out to be mad. “You better not.”
“After that?” he says, crawling back up your body, slow and unhurried. “I’d be clinically insane.”
He settles over you again, pressing a warm, open-mouthed kiss to your stomach, then another between your breasts, then finally your mouth. You taste yourself on his tongue, and when he groans against your lips, it sends a fresh jolt of heat straight through you.
His body is flush against yours, his clothed cock thick and heavy where it presses against your thigh. You let your hands trail down his chest slowly to tug at the denim loops of his jeans.
"Want these off," you mumble against his lips.
He smiles and presses one last kiss to your mouth before he leans back onto his knees. His hands go to his belt, and you watch the way his fingers fumble for just a second.
He gets the buckle undone, then the zipper, the sound louder than it should be in your quiet bedroom. You watch as he shucks them down, boxers and all, and your breath catches slightly at the sight of him — flushed and hard and achingly ready.
“Better?” he asks, voice low.
You nod, breath shallow, and he’s already crawling back over you. The heat of him sinks into your skin as his body settles between your thighs, bare now.
Your legs part without hesitation.
His weight, the press of his chest to yours, the familiar scent of him wrapped in something raw and new — it all hits at once, and your whole body shivers.
He’s warm everywhere. The kind of warmth that soaks into your bones and makes you ache for more.
His hands slide along your arms until they find yours where they’re resting above your head. He threads his fingers through yours and presses them gently into the pillow, pinning you there. His eyes search yours, and you feel the first brush of him between your legs, just the tip, teasing the edge of you.
He doesn’t move yet. Just rests there, eyes locked on yours.
“You okay?” he murmurs, voice low and thick, like he’s hanging on by a thread.
You don’t answer — not with words. You just tilt your hips up, welcoming him in with nothing but a look.
He pushes in slow — painfully slow — each inch dragging fire across your nerves as your body stretches to take him. Your mouth falls open in a silent gasp, your fingers clenching around his. When he’s fully buried inside you, he stills completely.
“Fuck,” he breathes, forehead dropping to yours. “You feel… unreal.”
You can’t speak — your body’s too full, too wrecked already — so you kiss him instead. Slow and sweet and a little desperate. Your hips rock up, seeking more.
He groans into your mouth, finally starting to move, and every thrust is so fucking deep. It’s not rushed or frantic. It’s him savouring you, like he wants to remember how this feels with every part of himself.
His hands stay tight around yours, anchoring you both to the bed, to each other.
The rhythm builds, a slow burn that spreads everywhere, and between kisses you catch the way he looks at you — like he’s seeing something he’s afraid to lose. Like there’s something he wants to say but can’t yet.
“You were supposed to beg,” you manage to murmur against his mouth, breathless. “Grovel a little.”
That crooked smile curls against your lips. “My bad, baby,” he murmurs. “You can make me beg next time.”
You raise an eyebrow. “You’re gonna regret that.”
He shifts his hips, thrusting deeper, and your breath leaves you in a ragged gasp.
“You promise?”
The challenge in his voice is smug, but his eyes are dark and glassy, his control hanging by a thread. You whimper in response, thighs tightening around his waist, and he dips his head to your throat, dragging his lips along your pulse like it’s the only thing tethering him to earth.
He starts to move with more purpose now, making you feel every second of it. His cock grinds into that spot that makes your vision blur, and your whole body tenses, fingers squeezing his like a lifeline.
The moan you let out is shameless, high and wrecked, when he tilts his hips just right — again and again, like he’s carving his name into your body from the inside.
“Right there?” he murmurs, already knowing. His hand slips between your bodies, thumb finding your clit with the kind of confidence that only comes from knowing you — every reaction, every sound. “God, you’re so fucking wet. You always get like this for me?”
“Koo—” His name slips out broken, a warning and a plea wrapped in one.
“I’ve got you,” he whispers, voice ragged, forehead pressed to yours. His thrusts get rougher now, faster, the rhythm losing polish but gaining intensity. “Let me have you, baby. Come again for me.”
The words send a bolt of heat straight to your core, your whole body winding tight. His mouth crashes against yours before you can respond, tongue tangling with yours, greedy and open and honest in all the ways his words still aren’t.
When he pulls back, he’s panting, “You feel like heaven, fuck.”
You can’t even process it — not now, not when his rhythm stutters and his hips slam harder, each thrust jolting a cry from your throat. Your legs are trembling, your grip bruising where it clings to him, and you can feel the knot in your stomach tighening.
“That’s it,” he groans, watching your face like it’s the only thing that matters. “Let go for me. Let me feel you.”
You bury your face in his shoulder, teeth catching on his skin as your orgasm crashes over you. Your body locks up, thighs clenching, and you cry out his name. His hand squeezes yours back, holding you through it.
Your walls grip him tight, and he groans loud against your skin, hips faltering. “Fuck— shit—”
He thrusts once more before spilling into you with a broken sound, voice rasping your name like a prayer.
His whole body shudders as he comes, arms locked tight around you like he needs you to stay exactly where you are — here, under him, around him, real. His forehead drops to your shoulder, damp curls brushing your skin as he exhales, long and shaky.
Neither of you move right away. The air between you is thick with heat and breath and a comforting silence.
Eventually though, he shifts just enough to press a kiss to your collarbone. Then another, softer.
His hand slides along your waist, fingertips brushing lazy patterns into your skin. You hum under your breath — not a word, just a sound — and he responds by kissing your shoulder again.
Your legs are still tangled together. His body still half-draped over yours. There’s a mess between your thighs and sweat clinging to your skin, and you should probably say something, anything — but there’s something sweet about the silence now. It’s soft. Unspoken. Peaceful, in a weirdly intimate way.
He shifts again, easing out of you with a quiet groan, and you wince a little at the loss.
“Sorry,” he murmurs, running a hand gently over your thigh like an apology.
“It’s fine,” you breathe, eyes closed, chest still rising and falling too fast.
He doesn’t go far. Just rolls to the side, still close enough that his leg stays pressed against yours, and reaches for the blanket to pull it up over you both. He tugs you into his chest like second nature, burying his nose in your hair, his hand stroking absently up and down your arm.
“You good?” he asks softly, lips brushing your temple.
“Yeah,” you say, quieter now. “You?”
He pauses. Then he nods against your skin. “Yeah. More than.”
You lay there like that for a while, heartbeats evening out. He’s still drawing shapes on your skin — fingertips slow, mindless — and you smile to yourself, warmth blooming low in your stomach.
“So,” you murmur eventually, voice still hoarse. “What now? We high-five and call it a night?”
He huffs a laugh into your hair. “I mean, I wouldn’t say no to a high-five.”
You laugh, nudging him with your shoulder. “Cocky.”
“Confident,” he corrects, grinning. “But really—” He shifts a little so he can see your face, one hand reaching up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “If we’re doing this, I wanna do it right.”
You blink, caught off-guard by the sudden sincerity in his voice. “Do what right?”
He raises an eyebrow, like it should be obvious. “Us.”
There’s a pause. You look at him, and he looks at you, and it’s terrifying and sweet all at once.
“I really like you,” he says, quieter this time. “And I’m not just saying that because I just got laid.” He cracks a small smile. “Though, to be fair, that was mind-blowing.”
You snort. “So humble.”
“I’m serious,” he says, nudging your nose with his. “I’ll take you out. I’ll plan dumb dates. I’ll be obnoxiously charming and show up with flowers. I’ll be— like— a gentleman, or whatever.”
You give him a look. “You should’ve done all that before you fucked me.”
His grin spreads. “Yeah, well. Guess I got the order wrong. You gonna hold that against me?”
“Maybe,” you say, lips twitching.
“I’ll make it up to you,” he says, fingers brushing your cheek. “You’ll see. I’ll be so romantic it’ll make you want to punch me.”
“I already want to punch you.”
“And yet,” he says smugly, pulling you closer, “you’re still in my bed.”
“This is my bed, dumbass.”
He pauses. “Okay, fair. But I am naked in it. With you.”
You roll your eyes, but the smile on your face won’t go away. His arm tightens around your waist, and you let yourself relax into it — into him. For once, it doesn’t feel like something to second-guess.
He kisses your forehead, then your cheek, then the corner of your mouth.
You tuck your face into his neck and sigh. “You better bring the good flowers. Like the ones that don’t die in two days.”
“Oh, so now you’re picky?”
“You said dates and flowers. I’m holding you to it.”
“Noted,” he says, fingers threading into your hair. “I’m gonna be so disgustingly good to you.”
summary. when you complain to jungkook about your lack of action in the past year, you're not really asking for a solution. but when he casually offers to help, you just can't seem to bring yourself to say no.
after all, what's the worst that could happen in hooking up just this once?
pairing: jeon jungkook x f!reader
genre: friends to lovers, smut, fluff
word count: 8.3k
warnings: more porn but with a tiny bit more plot :0, swearing, explicit sexual content (mdni), car sex, kissing, making out, oral (f. receiving), again he’s very cocky but can we blame him, breast play, multiple orgasms, banter and teasing as dirty talk, petnames (baby), jk's actually a menace but lowkey down bad, the ending deserves a warning (i’m sorryy), let me know if i missed anything!
notes: thank you SAURR much to my bae j @tranquilreign for beta reading!! (i’m still giggling at all ur comments pls :3) likes, comments, reblogs, asks and feedback are so so appreciated. enjoy reading my angelss <3
ps. READ PART ONE HERE!!
⌗ masterlist. ⌗ taglist. ⌗ feedback
You wake up to the dull throb of sunlight pressing through your curtains and the sharper ache between your legs.
It's not unpleasant — just a lingering reminder. A hum under your skin, like a bruise you don’t mind touching again and again.
You blink slowly, your eyes gritty from sleep, mouth dry, brain hazy in that half-dream state where everything feels like it could be made up. The heavy comforter is kicked down to your hips, your legs tangled in each other, and for a second — just one — you think maybe it was a dream.
But then you shift, and your thighs protest, and it all comes back.
The couch. His fingers. His mouth. The way he looked at you like he’d already had you a thousand times in his head. The things he said — low, teasing, mean. The things you said back. Your stomach tightens, breath hitching as your body tries to replay it too fast, too much.
You squeeze your eyes shut and will your brain to shut up.
You don’t usually let people sleep over. Not like this. Not in your bed, under your sheets, in your space.
But Jungkook’s always been the exception to things. It’s not new, waking up with him in your apartment. He’s been here for movie nights that turned into sleepovers, for hangovers that turned into late mornings, for heartbreaks that turned into shared pints of ice cream and shit talk.
You’ve seen him in your space more times than you can count. But never like this.
You breathe in slow and exhale even slower, eyes fluttering open. The room is still, the air thick with the kind of silence that begs to be broken but doesn’t quite want to be. You shift again, turning onto your side, and your eyes land on the shape beside you.
He’s lying on his stomach, one arm thrown across your pillow, the other tucked under his chest. The blanket’s halfway down his back, exposing the mess of tattoos curling across his shoulder and the dip of his spine. His hair’s a wreck — pushed off his forehead, flattened in the back — and his lips are parted, soft. He looks young like this. Calm. A little too good for your peace of mind.
You stare at him a moment too long.
And then you very, very carefully roll onto your back again.
You feel like you’re in a minefield. Like one wrong move will detonate something you're not ready to name.
You slept with your best friend.
Not just slept. Fucked.
Fucked him like you meant it. Like you’ve wanted to for longer than you’re willing to admit, even to yourself.
You exhale again. A sharp, quiet puff of air through your nose. Maybe if you stay still long enough, he’ll just keep sleeping. And you can sneak to the bathroom. Or back in time. Whichever’s easier.
You’re not panicking. Not technically. You’re just… thinking. Overthinking. Remembering how you sounded begging him not to stop. Remembering how he looked at you like you were the only thing he’d ever wanted. Remembering how, when it was over, he held you like it meant something.
You feel his warmth next to you, steady and real. His leg brushes yours, his knee nudging slightly against your calf, and your whole body goes still again.
You wonder what he's going to say when he wakes up; if he'll still smile at you like he did last night — like nothing about this is complicated. Like your world didn’t tilt just a little off its axis the second he kissed you back, like he wasn't allowed to and never planned on stopping.
You should feel weird. You should feel guilty. Or ashamed. Or something more than this weird, electric calm.
But mostly, you just feel like you don’t want to move.
His breathing shifts — subtle, but enough that you know he’s starting to wake up.
Your heart trips a little.
He shifts, and the arm he’d slung over your pillow curls slightly in, fingers brushing the back of your hand. He lets out a groggy hum, the noise half in his throat.
You freeze, eyes still closed.
“Mm,” he mumbles, voice thick with sleep. “What time is it?”
You swallow. Your voice doesn’t come right away, caught somewhere behind your tongue. When it does, it’s soft, a rasp. “No idea.”
He exhales. Shuffles a little closer. You can feel the heat of him now, bleeding through the sliver of space that still separates you. A moment passes. Then another. You brace for it — for the tension, the shift, the stammered joke to smooth over the jagged memory of last night.
But all he says is, “Damn. My back hurts.”
You blink, startled by the normalcy of it. “You’re not supposed to sleep like that. You looked like a crime scene victim.”
“Sexy,” he mutters, eyes still closed. “That’s what I was going for.”
You huff a quiet laugh. And weirdly, the knot in your stomach loosens just a little.
Another silence stretches. But it’s not bad. Not heavy. He makes a small sound as he shifts again, propping himself up just slightly on one elbow. You don’t look at him, not yet, but you can feel his eyes on you.
“How do you feel?”
You hesitate.
He waits.
You turn your head slowly toward him, and finally meet his gaze. His hair’s a mess, his eyes still sleep-warm, but there’s something sharper under the surface. Not regret. Not even nerves. Just… attention. He’s watching you the way he did last night — carefully. Like you matter.
You chew your lip for a second. "Sore," you eventually say, voice quiet.
He smiles. “Good sore or bad sore?”
You raise an eyebrow. “You want a Yelp review?”
He shrugs, still smiling. “I mean, if you’re offering. I’d love a star rating.”
You stare at him for another second. Then you snort, burying your face in the pillow. “You’re such a dick.”
“You didn’t mind last night.”
You groan, muffled. “Please don't. It's too early for this.”
He laughs — really laughs — and you feel it wash over you like a warm breeze. He’s not weird about it. Not cagey or distant. And maybe it’s a little disarming how himself he still is. Like nothing’s changed.
Like everything has, but it’s fine.
He shifts again, flops onto his back beside you with a loud sigh and an arm flung dramatically over his eyes. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this hungover and this smug at the same time. It’s honestly kind of impressive.”
You glance at him, lips twitching. “Your ego’s going to explode.”
He peeks at you from under his arm. “Can you blame me? I mean, damn.”
You roll your eyes and toss a corner of the blanket over his face.
But your heart’s still racing.
You don’t know what you were expecting — some awkward shuffle out of bed, a strained goodbye, maybe even him pretending it hadn’t happened. But he’s still here. In your bed. In your space. Making you laugh.
Just like always.
Your fingers brush against his under the covers. Neither of you pull away.
You stare at the ceiling for a moment, letting yourself breathe. Letting the silence settle between you again. It feels different now, not loud with questions or demanding anything from you.
It feels like… him.
And maybe you’re not ready to ask what it means yet.
But for now?
This doesn’t feel like a mistake. Not even a little.
You’re standing outside your office building, arms crossed and scowling.
The sidewalk’s sticky with the leftover heat of the day, and there’s a cluster of your co-workers behind you laughing about something you’re not a part of. Their voices blur into the honks and hum of Friday traffic, and all you can focus on is the time.
Jungkook is two minutes late.
You know how stupid it is — two minutes. But today, even two seconds of anything feels like too much.
You shift your weight from one foot to the other, the back of your neck damp with sweat, the strap of your bag digging into your shoulder in just the wrong way. Your phone sits heavy in your palm. No new messages. No “almost there.” No “sorry, traffic’s ass.”
Nothing.
The week has wrung you out like a wet towel. Every day, some new tiny disaster: deadlines moving without warning, your boss micromanaging you like you’re an intern again, and a meeting yesterday where a client talked over you so many times you wanted to crawl under the table and scream.
You’ve barely slept. Your eyes are scratchy. You snapped at someone in the break room this morning because they made a passive-aggressive joke about your “resting bitch face.” And now, Jungkook is late. On your day. Friday. The one consistent thing in your life.
Every Friday, he picks you up from work.
It started almost a year ago, after a breakup left you crying into your salad at your desk. When Jungkook had texted you to come down that day, you'd expected takeout and tissues. But instead, he’d cranked up the music in his car and driven you to a late-night ramen spot where you ended up laughing so hard you nearly choked on your noodles.
It became tradition. No matter what kind of week you’d had, no matter what mood either of you were in — Friday nights belonged to you two. You didn’t even have to plan anything. Sometimes it was tacos in the car and talking shit about your co-workers. Sometimes it was video games at his place or walking around the city until your legs ached and your cheeks hurt from laughing.
He always showed up. Early, even.
But today, the sun is setting in your eyes, and he’s late.
You tap your foot. Then stop, because that’s annoying. Then sigh loud enough to get a look from a passing stranger.
You grip your phone tighter, squinting down the street. Still no sign of his car. Your thumb hovers over the call button.
Three minutes late now.
Your stomach twists — not from worry, but frustration. Because this — this quiet, unnecessary delay — is the cherry on top of the shit sundae that has been your entire week. And you hate that it’s him. That even Jungkook gets to be a part of the unravelling now.
You lean against the metal pole of the bus sign, letting it bite into your spine. A bead of sweat slips down your back. The sun is way too bright for this hour.
Your phone buzzes.
Finally.
You snatch it up like you’ve been waiting for a lifeline, and there it is:
Kook 🍜: here in a min
You glare at the screen. Then type:
You: You’re late.
Kook 🍜: exactly 3 min. that’s barely anything
You: You’re lucky I’m too exhausted to castrate you.
Kook 🍜: bet you'll still get in the car
You don’t respond.
You just shove your phone back in your bag and take a breath that doesn’t do anything to help.
Jungkook’s car pulls up slow, music low, window already halfway down. He’s in that stupid black bucket hat he always wears, curls pushed out from under the brim. You catch the grin he’s wearing before he even says anything — wide, lazy, like he’s proud just to have found parking.
He leans over and calls out through the window, “Damn. Which poor intern did you kill today?”
You glare at him.
His smile falters a little, but he keeps going, still trying to crack you open like usual. “I mean, you’re kinda glowing with hate. It’s kinda hot. Very—”
“Jungkook,” you cut in, sharp.
His eyes snap up to yours.
You immediately hate how sharp your voice came out. You look away, fingers curling around the strap of your bag.
“Sorry,” you mutter after a beat. “I just… I’ve had a fucking awful week, and I’m really not in the mood for jokes right now.”
There’s a pause. Just the hum of the engine and a soft beat coming from the speakers — some song with a lazy bassline and breathy vocals.
Then he shifts. You hear the click of the lock before he leans over to push the door open for you. “Get in.”
You do. Without arguing.
The cool air hits your face the second the door closes, and you let your head lean back against the seat. He doesn’t say anything right away. Just starts driving, hands loose on the wheel, his bottom lip tugged between his teeth like he’s thinking.
“You wanna talk about it?” he asks eventually, softer this time.
You shake your head. “Not really. Just one of those weeks where everything goes to shit in slow motion. Work, people, the world. My brain. I think I hate everyone.”
He hums. “Cool. We can start a club.”
You huff a laugh, just barely. But it’s something.
He glances at you sideways, like he’s measuring how far he can push. “So when do I get to punch your boss?”
“I’m serious, Kook.”
“I'm serious too! I’ve been doing push-ups.”
You snort, against your will. “You do three push-ups and call it training.”
“First of all, way more than three. Second, the form was perfect. Don’t disrespect me in my own car.”
You smile — tiny, fleeting — but it’s the first time today you’ve felt even remotely human.
“Thanks for picking me up,” you murmur after a second. “Even if you were late.”
“Exactly three minutes,” he says, defensive. “And I was texting you while driving, which is dedication. Illegal, but dedication.”
You glance over at him. He’s wearing his usual all-black like he’s trying to look tough, but the corners of his mouth are soft. His grip on the wheel is loose. Familiar. Like this is just another Friday, like nothing’s changed since last week.
But something has. You feel it.
You clear your throat. “Can we just go back to mine? I kind of want to curl into a blanket and pretend I don’t exist.”
“Nope,” he says instantly.
You blink. “What?”
“I have a plan.”
“A plan?”
“Yep.”
“What kind of plan?”
He just grins, eyes still on the road. “You’ll see.”
You narrow your eyes. “I swear to god, if this ends with me getting roped into karaoke—”
“No karaoke,” he says with a laugh, holding up one hand solemnly. “I promise. You’ve suffered enough.”
You sigh and let your head fall against the window. The glass is cool against your temple, and you let your eyes slip closed for a second. “I’m serious though, Kook. I really don’t think I have the energy to be around people right now.”
“No people,” he assures you. “Just us. Little detour. Nothing dramatic.”
You peek one eye open at him. “You’re being weird.”
“I’m being nice.”
“That’s what’s weird.”
He smirks. “Okay, that’s fair.”
You fall quiet again. The road noise fills the silence, the gentle whir of tires and the low pulse of the bass. It’s soothing in a way, the way riding with him always is.
Your fingers drift to your lap, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. He doesn’t ask again about your week. He just drives, one hand on the wheel, the other resting casually near the gearshift, fingers tapping to the beat of the music.
You glance at him again.
He looks good when he’s focused but relaxed. The way he hums along to the music without realising. The way the light paints the side of his face gold as it streams through the windshield. You feel it crawl up your chest: that annoying, warm pressure. That thing you haven’t named yet.
That thing you’re starting to feel more often when he’s near you.
And it’s so stupid. So inconvenient.
You stare out the window, try to shake it off.
He turns down a street you don’t recognise.
“Seriously,” you say, finally. “Where are we going?”
He just grins again, eyes still forward.
“You’ll see.”
You’re parked at the top of a hill you didn’t know existed.
Below you, the city stretches out — tiny glints of light catching on glass and metal, and cars threading through the streets like slow-moving ants. It’s not some tourist lookout spot. There’s no crowds, no fences or coin-operated telescopes. Just a dusty turnout on the side of a winding road and a view that makes you feel like the world finally shut up for a minute.
It’s quiet up here. Real quiet. Even the music in the car has been turned down to a soft background hum — just instrumental now.
You’ve got a milkshake in your hands, condensation slipping down the side and catching on your fingers. It’s thick and rich, the kind that takes actual effort to sip through a straw. The sweetness coats your tongue, dulls the bitter edge that’s been living in your chest all week. In your lap is the discarded wrapping of a burger so good you had to ask where the hell it came from.
“I’ve literally never heard of this place,” you say around a mouthful of fries. “Is this one of those ‘secret menu, don’t tell anyone or they’ll kill you’ joints?”
Jungkook grins around his own bite, sauce already on the corner of his mouth. “Maybe. The guy who owns it doesn’t even do social media. Total off-the-grid.”
You nod like that explains the magic burger. “They probably sold their soul to the devil for the recipes or something.”
He laughs, mouth full, and leans over to wipe the sauce off with the back of his hand. “You okay now?”
You pause.
The question isn’t heavy. He doesn’t even look at you when he says it — just stares out at the view like he’s asking casually. But you hear the real version underneath. You always hear it with him.
You take a slow sip of your milkshake before answering.
“Yeah,” you say. “I think I am.”
And for once, it’s not a lie. Your body still feels wrung out, your muscles sore from being tense for too many days in a row, but something about this — about being here, with him, with real food and fake silence and a breeze that smells like clean air and french fries settles something in you.
You glance over. He’s sitting back against the driver’s side door, one knee propped up. His hat’s on the floor somewhere — he'd thrown it off after complaining about the heat — and the curve of his neck is exposed just enough to distract you when you look too long.
Which you are. Looking too long, again.
“So,” you say, casually. “How many women have you brought up here to seduce with mystery burgers and pretty views?”
He snorts. “You’re the first. Most of my dates prefer the classic ‘come over and watch a movie, but don’t actually watch the movie’ route.”
You raise an eyebrow. “Wow. Such effort.”
“Right? I’m kind of romantic like that.”
You toss a fry at him. It bounces off his chest and lands in his tray.
He doesn’t flinch. Just picks it up and eats it. “Thanks.”
You roll your eyes, but you can't help the smile that tugs on your lips.
The air settles into a rhythm again. You chew slowly, the kind of silence between you that doesn’t need filling. It's never been hard, being around him. Even now — after everything — you find yourself slipping back into the easy groove of just existing next to him.
Your phone buzzes in your bag, but you don’t reach for it. You don’t even want to know.
You glance over at him again.
He’s still working on his burger, brows furrowed like he’s trying to solve it. Like he’s mad at how good it tastes.
It should be funny.
It is funny. But your heart stutters instead.
You don’t laugh. You just watch.
The way his lips press together before each bite. The little crease between his eyebrows. His jaw, flexing with each chew. The thick column of his throat when he swallows.
You’ve seen him eat a thousand things in a thousand places. Messy tacos. Gas station snacks. Instant noodles straight from the pot. But somehow, this moment feels different.
Or maybe you do.
Something in you has been tilting all week.
You’ve been tired, angry, brittle with exhaustion. But under it — every time he texts you, looks at you, shows up — there’s something else rising. Warm and low.
You’re not sure when being around him stopped feeling simple.
Maybe it was that night. Maybe it’s been creeping in longer. But it’s louder now. Clearer. It fills your throat and sits behind your ribs and presses up against the edges of your self-control.
He licks ketchup from his thumb.
And you can’t stop staring at his mouth.
He glances up and catches you looking, raising an eyebrow. “What?”
You blink. Swallow. Try to think of something else, anything else, but your body’s already too aware. Too wired.
“Would you hate me if I did something?” you ask, voice low.
His head tilts. “What kind of something?”
“Would you?” you repeat, ignoring his question.
He puts his empty milkshake cup and spare tissues into the paper bag you got the food in, then puts it on to the dashboard of the car before meeting your gaze again.
“You know I could never hate you,” he says, voice casual.
Your pulse stutters.
And before you can talk yourself out of it, your fingers fist in the front of his shirt and you’re moving across your seat, crashing your mouth into his.
It’s not sweet or delicate.
You kiss him like you’ve been holding it back for weeks. Like you’ve hit your limit and there’s nowhere else for the feeling to go. Your teeth scrape his lip. Your noses bump.
He makes a startled sound, hands finding your waist instinctively. You pull back a bit, heart hammering in your chest, and for a beat, neither of you move. He just stares at you — wide-eyed, lips parted — like he’s trying to memorise this exact second.
His mouth opens and closes for a second before his lips are on yours again, chasing your mouth like he needs you to breathe.
Fuck. You weren't actually expecting him to reciprocate.
Then again, you hadn't been thinking at all.
"This is a horrible idea," you mumble.
Jungkook smiles into the kiss. "Mhm. Terrible."
But neither of you stop. You're not sure you could even if you tried. Jungkook's an addicting man, especially when he's kissing you like this.
You grunt into his mouth when your knee hits the centre console, frustrated — not at him, not at this, but at the fucking layout of his stupid car.
You pull back just far enough to say, breathless, “This car is the worst possible place for this.”
He’s panting a little, lips flushed. “You’re the one who launched yourself at me.”
You roll your eyes, shifting your position to try and get comfortable, but your impatience only grows with every second that your lips aren't on his.
“Fuck,” you mutter, pushing your hair out of your face. “This is so—”
“Hot,” Jungkook cuts in, his hand sliding under your shirt to palm your waist. His touch is warm. Steady. “It’s hot.”
You pause. Look at him.
His gaze is on your mouth again and his hand flexes against your skin like he’s trying to stay in control. But you see it — how much effort it’s taking.
And that…
Yeah, that does something to you.
With the help of his hands, your weight sinks down into his lap, both knees straddling his thighs.
The position isn’t comfortable — your head almost knocks the ceiling — but it’s better than before. Your mouths press together again, desperate.
Your tongue slides against his, your teeth catch on his bottom lip, and he pulls you tighter like you might disappear if he lets go.
One of his hands snakes up your back, under your shirt, fingers splaying across your spine like he wants to map it. You grind down against him, slow and deliberate, and his breath stutters.
“Fuck,” he mutters into your mouth. “Do that again.”
You do.
He tilts his head and deepens the kiss, like he’s trying to taste everything you’ve never said out loud. You lose your balance for a second, your body leaning into him, your chest flush with his. His hand slips up to your jaw, thumb brushing along your cheekbone.
You roll your hips again, slower this time, and he breaks the kiss with a gasp, resting his forehead against yours.
“Shit,” he says, voice wrecked. “We can’t do this here.”
“Why not?” you murmur, mouth still grazing his.
He laughs — short, breathless. “Because I’m gonna break the gearshift with my dick if we keep going.”
You laugh too, the sound getting lost between the kisses you press to his jaw, his neck, the line of his throat.
His fingers dig into your waist. “You’re evil.”
You bite his earlobe gently. “You like it.”
He groans, the sound full and needy, and his hands are on your ass, dragging you harder into him, his hips rolling up to meet yours.
You both freeze at the contact.
Your breath catches. His does too.
You pull back to look at him. His eyes are blown wide. His lips are red. His chest rises and falls like he’s run a mile.
His mouth breaks from yours, breath ragged, lips swollen.
“Backseat,” he says, voice a little raspy.
You blink, still breathless. “What?”
He grabs your waist again, eyes dark with lust pooling in his pupils. “Backseat. Now.”
You don’t question him this time.
You clamber into the back with far less grace than you’d like — knees catching on leather, thigh knocking the steering wheel hard enough to make the horn let out a pathetic chirp. Jungkook laughs behind you, but it’s breathless and reverent, the kind of sound that makes you feel seen. Wanted.
You fall into the back seat, legs tangled, heart hammering, your skin hot beneath your clothes. Before you can even fix your hair or adjust your position, he’s climbing in after you.
His body slots over yours, knee between your thighs, hands bracing on either side of your head as he dives back in.
You fist his shirt, tugging him impossibly closer as his mouth breaks from yours and moves lower — along your jaw, down your neck. His lips are soft but relentless, nipping at the skin just below your ear before sucking hard enough to make your hips buck into him.
“Fuck,” you whisper, head falling back. “You’re—god—”
“Still not tired of me?” he murmurs against your throat.
You grip his shoulders, legs falling open to make room for him between them. “Shut up.”
He huffs a laugh against your skin, but he listens. Fingers move to your buttons, surprisingly nimble despite how wrecked he looks. He doesn’t tear anything. Doesn’t rush it. He undoes each one slowly, as if he’s unwrapping a gift he’s been waiting way too long to open.
As each button pops free, his mouth follows — kissing down the newly exposed skin between your breasts, over the curve of your ribs. His hands slide beneath the fabric, pushing it open until your chest is bared, and hooks a finger beneath the centre of your bra, tugging it down and out of the way until you're fully exposed beneath him.
He pulls back to look.
And when he does, he breathes your name.
Low. Like a prayer.
You watch his eyes drag over you, dark and worshipful. One hand cups your breast, his thumb brushing over your nipple in slow, lazy circles while the other grips your waist, holding you steady as your back arches into him.
He leans down again, tongue flicking over your nipple before his mouth closes around it — sucking just hard enough to make your toes curl. Your fingers fly to his hair, anchoring yourself in him as his teeth graze sensitive skin and his free hand teases the other side, drawing a sharp gasp from your throat.
“Kook—” you breathe, hips shifting beneath him, desperate for friction.
His mouth drags away with a wet sound. “Yeah, baby?”
The pet name sounds dangerous in his voice. Too natural. Like it belongs.
You don’t even call it out. You just say, “Need more.”
That’s all he needs to hear.
He drops one hand between your thighs, pressing it there over your pants with firm, maddening pressure. Just enough to make your breath stutter. His mouth is back on your chest, and his fingers start moving — slow at first, then harder, more purposeful, dragging against the seam of the fabric like he knows exactly how to push you to the edge.
He does.
And you’re already spiralling, body burning under his touch, chest heaving, lips swollen, the back seat of his car too cramped, too humid, too perfectly wrong for what’s happening.
But you’ve never wanted anything more.
Your head drops back against the seat, a soft moan catching in your throat as Jungkook keeps working you over through your pants, his fingers circling you like he has all the time in the world and none of the patience to waste it.
“I swear to god,” you pant, “if you don’t get these off me right now, I’m gonna lose my fucking mind.”
He laughs, still panting himself. His mouth presses hot and open to your neck, teeth grazing skin that’s already buzzing. “Bossy tonight, huh?”
“You started this.”
“And I’m gonna finish it,” he mutters, breath warm against your collarbone.
He shifts down your body and you feel him fumble with the button of your pants, tongue poking at the corner of his mouth in concentration.
“I can do it,” you say, breathless. “You’re slow.”
He blinks up at you, eyebrows raised. “Oh? I’m slow?”
You undo the button in one motion, zipper halfway down, and shoot him a sarcastic smile. “There. Congrats.”
He smiles, wide and wicked, and in the next second, he’s got your pants halfway down your thighs, your panties bunched right after. “Cool. I’ll just use my mouth then.”
That wipes the smugness off your face in an instant.
You freeze.
“Kook— wait, no—”
He pauses, glancing up at you from where he’s knelt between your legs, hair falling into his eyes, hands gripping your thighs with intent. “Did you just try and say no to that?”
“I mean…” You squirm, thighs twitching under his touch. “Last time was already— like, I came. A lot. You don’t have to do the whole… y’know…”
“The whole what?” he asks, voice dangerously innocent. “The part where I make you forget your own name with my tongue?”
You glare at him. “Don’t say it like that.”
He smirks, leaning in until his nose brushes your inner thigh. “Say what? That I’m gonna eat you out until you’re dripping into the seat?”
Your whole body jerks. “Jesus— Kook.”
“That’s not a no.”
He presses a kiss to your inner thigh, slow and warm. Then another. And another. Higher. Closer.
“Didn't get to do it last time,” he murmurs. “And I’ve been thinking about it. All fucking week.”
“You think about this?” you ask, trying for teasing, but your voice wavers as his mouth brushes closer to your core.
“Every night.”
Your breath catches.
“Every time I jerked off, it was to the sound you made when I had my fingers in you. You remember that?” he asks, dragging his mouth up until he’s just hovering over you, warm breath ghosting across your heat.
You nod, because you can’t speak. Your fingers are curled tight into the edge of the seat. Your thighs twitch.
“You remember what you said? ‘Please, don’t stop,’” he mimics, voice low and mocking. “But now you wanna tell me to stop this?”
You open your mouth to fire back some bratty reply — but then he presses a single, firm kiss against your cunt.
Your brain blanks.
Your hips buck.
“Fuck— okay,” you gasp, voice breaking.
He grins like he’s won a bet. “Knew you’d cave.”
Then his mouth is on you.
Hot and slow at first — just one long lick from bottom to top that has your eyes rolling back. His hands pin your thighs apart, anchoring you in place as he buries his face between your legs.
His tongue is obscene. Soft and firm in perfect rhythm, flicking over your clit before sealing his mouth around it and sucking hard enough to make your vision blur.
You cry out, hips stuttering up into his face, but he just groans against you.
“Fuck, you’re so messy already,” he mumbles against you. “Is that for me?”
You’re beyond words.
Your fingers snake into his hair, anchoring yourself as he eats you out like a man with something to prove. He moves with precision and hunger, memorising your every twitch, every gasp, every breathless curse.
“God, Kook—” you pant, eyes squeezed shut. “You’re such a fucking overachiever.”
He pulls back just enough to look up at you, chin slick, pupils blown. “You gonna dock my grade if I make you come too fast?”
You glare down at him, chest heaving. “You’re insufferable.”
He presses a kiss to your clit, slow and sharp. “As if it doesn't turn you on."
You can’t argue. Not when he dives back in, tongue sliding over you with maddening confidence, his nose bumping against your clit as he hums.
The pressure builds fast.
Too fast.
And you know it’s coming — the kind of orgasm that starts at your toes and climbs like a fuse to the rest of you — but you don’t care.
You come hard, shaking through it, barely aware of the sounds leaving your mouth. Everything goes white-hot for a second — your grip in his hair, the tremble in your thighs, the pleasure that pulses through you.
You’re still gasping, thighs trembling, when he finally pulls back. His lips are slick, his chin wet with you, and he looks fucking wrecked.
He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.
“You good?” he asks, cocky and a little breathless.
You shoot him a look. “Do I look good?”
He smirks. “You look like I just rocked your shit.”
You scoff, weak but grinning. “You’re so full of yourself.”
He kisses your inner thigh, then leans up, mouth dragging over your ribs as he moves back over you. “Just calling it like I see it.”
Your hands slide under his shirt as he settles above you again, dragging it up over his toned stomach until he gets the hint and peels it off. You press your palms to his chest, warm and solid and slick with sweat.
Then your hand starts moving lower.
Jungkook freezes above you, eyes flicking down to where your fingers are tugging at his waistband. You smirk up at him.
“My turn?”
“Your turn to what?” he asks, voice already hoarse.
You shift, nudging his hips up so you can start pulling his jeans open. “You think I’m gonna let you have all the fun?”
He groans — actual, full-bodied groan — as you work the zipper down and slide your hand beneath the waistband of his boxers.
But the second your fingers wrap around him, he grabs your wrist.
You look up, surprised. “What?”
He’s panting now, jaw tight, brow furrowed like he’s holding on by a thread.
“I can’t.”
You blink. “Can’t what?”
“I— fuck, if you put your mouth on me, I’m not gonna last.” He grips your wrist tighter, not pulling away but not letting you move either. “And I need to be in you first.”
You raise a brow, amused. “What happened to all that stamina you brag about during Mario Kart?”
He glares, cheeks flushed. “That’s different. You don’t suck me off during Mario Kart.”
“Maybe I should.”
“Don’t joke right now,” he grits out, pushing your hand out of his boxers with an almost painful kind of restraint. “I’m serious. I’m already dying.”
You pout, dragging your nails lightly down his stomach just to be a brat. “So needy.”
His eyes narrow, before moving back onto you.
You squeal as he pins your hands above your head, his body crashing into yours, mouth crashing against your neck.
“I’ll show you needy,” he growls, voice thick and dark.
Your heart kicks hard in your chest, and you’re smiling — giddy, wrecked, turned on beyond belief.
“You promise?” you whisper, voice almost mocking.
His hips roll down into yours.
“Oh, baby. I promise.”
The second his hips grind down again, dragging against your soaked heat, you feel your breath punch out of your lungs.
He lets go of your wrists and shoves his jeans and boxers down just far enough to free himself, cock flushed and heavy, already leaking at the tip. You reach for it instinctively, wanting to feel him, stroke him slow just to tease — but he swats your hand away like it’s nothing.
“No,” he growls, leaning in to press a kiss to your collarbone, rough and reverent all at once. “You had your chance.”
You open your mouth to argue, to push his buttons just a little more — but the head of his cock nudges your entrance, and whatever snark you had queued up melts into a gasp.
Jungkook groans under his breath, burying his face in the crook of your neck like the restraint is killing him. “Fuck, you’re so wet.”
“Yeah,” you rasp, gripping his shoulders, nails digging in. “Wonder why.”
He shifts his hips, just a little, dragging the thick head through your folds. Not pushing in yet, but slicking himself up with you. You moan despite yourself, arching into him, your body desperate to be filled.
“You ready?” he mutters, voice ragged.
You look at him — really look at him. His hair’s a mess, stuck to his forehead. His lips are kiss-bruised and red. His abs flex as he holds himself up over you, barely restraining the shake in his arms.
And you’ve never wanted anything so badly in your life.
“Yeah,” you whisper. “Please.”
He doesn’t need to be told twice.
He pushes in slow, thick and stretching, and your breath catches at the burn. Your back arches. One hand flies to the window for leverage, the other fists in the back of his neck.
“Jesus,” Jungkook groans, barely halfway in. “You feel— fuck— you feel insane.”
You laugh, short and winded. “That’s what you said last time.”
“Yeah, and I meant it.”
He bottoms out with a curse, hips flush to yours. For a moment, you both just breathe — heavy and ragged, bodies locked together, the air thick with sweat and want.
His movements are slow at first — just a shallow roll of his hips that drags his cock along every nerve ending inside you. You moan, legs tightening around his waist, heels digging into the backs of his thighs.
“Faster,” you breathe, already twitching around him.
He leans back just enough to watch your face, eyes locked on yours like he’s chasing every reaction. Then he picks up the pace — slamming into you with long, deep strokes that have the car rocking.
You cry out, snapping your hand up to press against your mouth. “Kook— fuck, don’t stop.”
He laughs — laughs, breathless and wrecked. “You think I could?”
Every thrust punches a gasp from your lungs. You can’t think. You can’t do anything but hold on.
He shifts, bracing one knee on the seat and angling his hips just right — and when he hits that spot inside you, your whole body jerks.
“Oh my god,” you moan.
“Right there?” he grits out, sweat dripping down his jaw. “Fuck, I feel it— your pussy’s so fucking tight, you’re gonna— shit— you’re gonna make me come.”
“Thought you said I’d be the one begging.”
He groans, pulls out almost all the way, then slams back in so hard you scream.
“Still wanna be a brat?” he growls, panting.
You nod, grinning through the moans. “Always.”
“Fine.” He grabs both your wrists again and pins them above your head, his body pressing into you harder now, relentless, sweat slicking your skin. “Then you can take it.”
And fuck, you do.
Your second orgasm creeps up on you fast — your whole body tensing as his thrusts get rougher, deeper, desperate. You cry out his name, high and wrecked, and the sound makes him snap.
His rhythm falters. His mouth crashes against yours, sloppy and hot, all teeth and tongue as he chases his own edge.
“I’m gonna—” he gasps, pulling back to look at you, eyes wild. “Fuck— can I—?”
You nod fast, moaning. “Inside. Just do it.”
That’s all it takes.
He buries himself one last time and shatters — groaning low in your ear as he spills into you, body shaking, arms trembling with effort as he holds himself up.
For a moment, it’s just the sound of breathing. Wind through cracked windows. The slow drip of sweat down your temples. The burn in your thighs. The mess between your legs.
Jungkook lets out a choked laugh and slumps down, burying his face in your neck. “Okay,” he mumbles. “That might’ve been the best sex I’ve had in a fucking car.”
You laugh, dazed. “You say that like it’s a long list.”
“Give me some credit,” he says, voice muffled against your skin. “I’m not that trashy.”
You stroke your fingers through his hair, still catching your breath. “We just fogged up every window in your car.”
“Worth it.”
He doesn’t move.
You’re still tangled together, his weight heavy on you, his softening cock still inside.
After a moment, he shifts slightly and lets out a low, satisfied sigh. You can feel the smile against your neck before he presses another kiss there. Then another. And another.
You squirm, half-laughing, half-exasperated. “You’re clingy as fuck after sex.”
“Mm-hmm,” Jungkook hums, completely unashamed. “Deal with it.”
You roll your eyes, still grinning. “You’re like a weighted blanket.”
He lifts his head just enough to look at you, sweaty curls falling into his eyes. “You love it.”
“Debatable.”
He snorts, then finally pulls out, slow and careful. You both groan at the feeling, and you feel it immediately: his cum, warm and slick, already starting to slide out of you.
You shift to reach for your underwear, cringing at the sticky feeling.
“I’ll clean you up,” he says, voice quiet but certain. “When we get home.”
You blink at him. “You don’t have to. Just drop me off—”
“No.” His tone is firmer now, jaw set. “I’m not just dropping you off.”
You stare at him for a beat, surprised by the sharp edge in his voice. Then you glance down pull up your bra and button up your shirt, suddenly very aware of your heartbeat again.
He watches you the whole time, his eyes dragging over your skin like he’s memorising every inch of it before covering it back up. And when you finish with the last button and reach for your jeans, he leans forward and kisses your jaw — soft, almost reverent.
“I mean it,” he murmurs. “Let me take care of you.”
And for some reason, you don’t fight it.
You’re lying in his bed, hair still damp from the shower, the curve of his hoodie soft against your bare thighs. The sheets smell like fabric softener and his cologne, and the room is dim — just the small lamp by the closet casting a low amber glow. There’s a bowl of ramen on the nightstand, still steaming. You’re not hungry, but he made it for you, so you took a few bites anyway.
Outside, the city hums. A car passes on the street below. Somewhere down the hall, the radiator clicks.
It should feel normal. Comfortable. It did feel normal — until maybe twenty minutes ago.
Things were fine when you got here. He’d pulled you toward the bathroom and handed you a towel, that stupid grin still half on his face. He even said something about making noodles if you promised not to pass out in his bed again. You’d laughed. Called him a housewife. Everything felt fine.
But when you came out of the shower, something was different.
He was sitting on the edge of the bed, scrolling his phone like he didn’t hear you walk in. And when he looked up, the smile was there, yeah — but it didn’t fully reach his eyes. You shrugged it off. Maybe you imagined it. Maybe he was just zoning out.
But then it kept going.
Quiet, too quiet. He’d made the ramen without talking. Brought it to you, set it down, and just... sat on the floor for a while, scrolling again, saying nothing. When you asked what he was doing, he just said, “Checking something,” and didn’t elaborate. Eventually he stood, turned on a random playlist, and flopped into the chair in the corner with a bottle of water.
Now he’s across the room, scrolling again, leg bouncing slightly like he’s keyed up and trying to burn it off. He hasn’t looked at you in a few minutes. You watch the light from his phone flicker across his face, the way his brow furrows every now and then, and something in your chest tugs.
It’s not dramatic. He’s not being rude or distant. He’s not treating you like a stranger. But he’s not treating you like you, either — not the way he usually does.
You know him too well not to notice. The way he’s moving isn’t right. Like he’s stuck in his own head. Like there’s something he wants to say but doesn’t know how to bring up.
Or maybe he’s trying not to say something. Either way, it sits in the air between you, subtle but heavy.
You pull your knees up under the hoodie and wrap your arms around them, resting your chin there. Watching him. Waiting, maybe, for him to snap out of it. Say something dumb. Make fun of your hair. Crawl into bed next to you like it’s nothing.
But he doesn’t.
You shift slightly, tugging the hoodie down over your thighs even though it’s already covering you. The ramen’s gone lukewarm on the nightstand.
“Kook?”
His head lifts just a little. “Hmm?”
You hesitate. “What’s going on?”
He blinks, finally looking at you. His eyes are soft. Tired, maybe. Or just dimmer than usual. “What do you mean?”
“You just feel…” You trail off, unsure how to word it without sounding dramatic. “I don’t know. A little off.”
He smiles, and it’s almost convincing. “I’m good. Just tired.”
You don’t push. Not really. You know him. If he doesn’t want to talk, he won’t. And whatever this is — it doesn’t feel sharp enough to cut yet. It just feels strange.
“Okay,” you say quietly.
He glances down, then back at you. “Eat your noodles before they go gross.”
You glance at the bowl, then back at him. “You eat yet?”
He nods. “Earlier.”
You don’t believe him, but you let it slide.
He shifts in the chair, stretching his legs out and resting his head back for a second before sitting up again, like he was about to let himself relax and then thought better of it.
“I’m gonna get some work done before bed,” he says, standing up slowly. “Couple things I need to catch up on.”
You watch him move toward the door, half expecting him to stop, change his mind, come back and say something dumb like he always does. But he just opens it, hand braced against the frame.
His voice is gentle when he adds, “Don’t stay up too late, alright?”
You nod. “Yeah. I won’t.”
He gives you a small smile — soft, careful — and then he’s gone.
The door clicks shut behind him.
You stare at it for a long moment. The hoodie sleeves are pulled over your hands now. The ramen sits untouched. The playlist keeps playing, quiet and aimless in the background.
You let out a soft sigh before reaching over to flick off the lamp.
The room goes dark, soft shadows stretching over the walls. The sheets rustle as you shift down into them, tugging the comforter over your legs, the warmth doing nothing to quiet the noise in your head.
Maybe this is why people don’t sleep with their best friends.
Maybe this is exactly why those lines exist — because crossing them means risking everything else. And maybe you knew that. Maybe you ignored it anyway.
Because it was him.
Because part of you has been circling this for longer than you want to admit.
You close your eyes, breathing slow and steady. The scent of him still clings to the sheets. Still wraps around you like he should be here. But he’s not.
Regret settles low in your chest, dull and heavy. You hate the way it sits there, thick in your ribs, twisting slow in your stomach. You’ve always hated how it creeps in after the fact, when it’s already too late to take anything back.
You shift onto your side and pull the blanket up to your chin. Try to sleep. Try to stop thinking.
summary. when you complain to jungkook about your lack of action in the past year, you're not really asking for a solution. but when he casually offers to help, you just can't seem to bring yourself to say no.
after all, what's the worst that could happen in hooking up just this once?
pairing: jeon jungkook x f!reader
genre: friends to lovers, smut, fluff (?)
word count: 5.1k
warnings: you’re gonna get sick of the title loll, brief alcohol consumption, this is lowkey pwp (there will be more plot soon i promise) swearing, explicit sexual content (mdni), kissing, making out, fingering, oral (m. receiving), he’s very cocky but also pathetic, multiple orgasms, lots of banter and teasing as dirty talk, petnames (baby), jk calls oc a brat x2, multiple positions, insinuated aftercare, let me know if i missed anything!
notes: you guys built this fic!! this was supposed to be out on thursday but i realised i was being wayy to ambitious cuz i definitely needed more than two days to write this loll. but alas, it’s here :3 as always, likes, comments, reblogs, feedback and asks are very appreciated! enjoy reading angels <33
ps. THERE WILL BE A PART TWO!!
⌗ masterlist. ⌗ taglist. ⌗ feedback
You fumble with your keys, swaying just slightly as you try to jab the right one into the lock. Behind you, Jungkook’s laughing under his breath, close enough that you can feel the warmth of his breath on the back of your neck.
“Need help?” he asks, the amusement in his voice unmistakable.
“I’ve got it,” you say, jabbing the key with exaggerated precision. The door finally clicks open, and you push it in with a triumphant, “Ha!”
“You’re so competent,” he deadpans, clapping a mock applause as he follows you in. His shoulder bumps yours as he passes. “It’s honestly inspiring.”
You kick off your shoes, tossing your keys into the bowl by the door. “And you’re so annoying,” you mutter, but there’s no heat in it.
Jungkook drops onto your couch like it’s his own, sprawling out like he owns the place. Which, in some ways, he kind of does.
A hoodie of his is already slung over the back of a kitchen chair, from some night two weeks ago when he stayed too late and decided not to drive home. There’s an energy drink in your fridge with his name written on the lid in Sharpie. The blanket he’s tugging over his lap? That’s the one he gifted you for Christmas, mostly so he could use it whenever he came over.
It’s always been like this.
He tosses his denim jacket on the couch as you grab two bottles of water from the fridge, chucking one to him without warning. He catches it with the ease.
“You were definitely flirting with that bartender,” he says, unscrewing the cap and looking at you with that maddeningly smug smile.
You scoff. “He had a mullet and called me ‘miss.’ It wasn’t flirting— it was survival.”
“Sure,” he says, nodding like he totally believes you. “That’s why you laughed at everything he said, even when he asked if you liked your tequila neat.”
“It was neat!” you say, defensive and laughing at the same time. “And besides, you flirted with the girl in the fishnets for, like, an hour.”
He shrugs. “Guilty. She had good taste in music. And thighs.”
You groan and flop down beside him on the couch, letting your head fall back against the cushion. Your thigh brushes his, but you don’t move. Neither does he. The buzz from the party is still warm in your blood, and the apartment feels too quiet now — too intimate without the noise and lights and other bodies.
“You ever think we’re just... really bad at dating?” you ask, staring at the ceiling.
“Constantly,” Jungkook says, without hesitation.
You glance at him. “Like, maybe we peaked in college.”
He makes a face. “Don’t say that. I refuse to believe my best years happened while I was still eating instant ramen and failing comp sci.”
You laugh, and he turns his head toward you, watching you with that soft-eyed expression you know too well. There’s something about Jungkook when he’s like this — no bravado, no teasing smirk, just... present. His hair is a mess from the wind, and a dark tank top hugs his figure.
He’s too comfortable here. Too familiar.
“I genuinely think I’ve forgotten what a good kiss feels like,” you say, mostly to the ceiling, like it’s a throwaway thought.
Jungkook hums. “That bad, huh?”
“It’s not even bad, it’s just...” You trail off, searching for the word. “Empty. Mechanical. Like everyone’s going through the motions, but nobody’s actually there.”
He shifts slightly, angling his body more toward you. “So no decent kissers at all lately?”
You shake your head. “No decent anything, if I’m honest.”
He raises an eyebrow, curious.
You hesitate, but the alcohol in your system makes it easier to say what you probably wouldn’t sober. “I haven’t slept with anyone in like... almost a year.”
Jungkook blinks, not in judgment, just surprised. “Seriously?”
“Yeah.” You rub at your temple with a laugh. “I didn’t plan it or anything. It just kind of... kept not happening. And then it became this weird streak, and now here we are.”
He’s quiet for a moment.
“Well,” he says eventually, “maybe your standards are just too high.”
“Or maybe men are just mid,” you shoot back.
That gets a laugh out of him, loud and bright. He tips his head back, and you watch his throat move as he laughs. Too long. Too hard. When he calms down, he gives you a look — something mischievous that you've grown to know too well over the years.
"What?" you ask, narrowing your eyes at him with a smile.
He shrugs. “I mean... I could help."
“With my standards?”
“With the streak.”
You snort. “What, you offering?”
“Maybe.”
You tilt your head. “So what? You wanna bang it out?”
It’s meant to be funny. You’re grinning when you say it. But when you look at him — really look — he’s not laughing.
His gaze lingers on your mouth for a beat too long. Then his eyes flick up to yours.
“Just this once?” he asks, voice low. Careful. Like he’s giving you an out.
You don’t answer right away. The room goes still. The hum of the fridge feels too loud. His eyes are still on you, and it’s not a look you’ve ever seen from him before.
Your heart stutters in your chest.
You swallow. “Wouldn't it be weird?”
He doesn’t move. Doesn’t look away.
“Only if we let it be.”
You sit there for a second, the weight of it all hitting a little too fast. Your brain’s still catching up to your mouth, to the way your body’s buzzing — not from the alcohol anymore, but from him. From the heat in his eyes, the way he said it — almost like a dare.
And then his expression shifts.
His eyes flick away, and his tongue runs over the silver ring on his bottom lip, like he’s pulling it back, reeling it in.
“Only if you want to, obviously,” he says, quieter this time. “We don’t have to.”
He starts to lean back like he's resetting the mood — like this moment can still be folded back into the safety of your usual teasing — but you stop him.
You move first.
You grab the front of his tank top — not hard, not dramatic, just enough — and you pull him in.
You kiss him.
It’s abrupt. Heat over hesitation. A split-second decision that tastes like tequila and impulse, like comfort and fuck it all wrapped up in the same breath.
At first, he doesn’t move, frozen in surprise. But then he kisses you back — really kisses you back — and suddenly you're not thinking anymore.
His hand slides to your thigh, just enough pressure to ground you, and you shift toward him instinctively, knees brushing his. His mouth moves against yours with a kind of focused laziness, like he’s savouring it. Like he’s trying to figure out exactly how you taste.
You pull back half a second, just to breathe, lips brushing his as you mutter, “Took you long enough.”
He laughs into your mouth, low and smug. “You kissed me.”
“Yeah, well. You looked like you were gonna bail.”
“I was being respectful,” he says, voice muffled against your jaw as he starts kissing along it. “But sure, let’s call it bailing.”
You gasp a little when he nips at your neck, just enough pressure to make you arch toward him. Your hands slide under his top, fingers skimming the warm skin of his back, and he shivers under your touch.
“Jesus,” you murmur. “How are you this built? You eat, like, gas station snacks and leftover noodles.”
“I work out,” he mutters between kisses, grinning as he drags his mouth back to yours. “Also, you’ve seen me shirtless.”
“Yeah, but not like this.”
“Like what?”
You tug him closer until your chest presses to his. “Like I get to touch.”
That shuts him up real quick.
He kisses you again, this time more urgently, and you feel the change in the air — less teasing, more want. Your legs shift to straddle his lap without thinking, your hands sliding up into his hair, tugging just a little.
He groans, deep and rough, biting down on your bottom lip before kissing it better. You rock your hips forward slightly and he bucks up into you with a hiss.
“You’re gonna kill me,” he mutters, hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise.
You smirk against his mouth. “You offered, remember?”
“Yeah, and I’m rapidly realising that was a dangerous choice.”
You laugh, breathless, before kissing him again. He tastes like beer and something sweeter — probably the gum he always chews. You bite his lip and feel him groan into your mouth, hips jerking beneath you.
His fingers slip under your shirt, warm on your skin. Not rushed, just exploring — like he’s been curious for a while and is finally allowed to look.
You roll your hips again, slower this time, and his head drops back against the cushion with a low fuck that makes your stomach flip.
“You still sure about this?” you ask, teasing, as your hands drag down his chest, fingers playing with the hem of his shirt.
His eyes open — dark, focused, amused.
“You gonna stop me if I say no?”
You shake your head. “Nope.”
“Then yeah,” he says, breath hitching as your fingers reach his abdomen. “I’m very sure.”
He catches your fingers before you can finish unbuttoning his jeans.
You raise a brow, breath still uneven. “Seriously?”
He nods, steady, calm in a way that only makes your pulse pound harder. “I said I was helping you, didn’t I?”
“Yeah, but I thought that was like... a mutual helping situation.”
His mouth twitches. “You always gotta argue when I’m trying to do something nice?”
You open your mouth to throw something back — something biting, something stupid — but he leans in and kisses you before you can get the words out. One hand still wrapped around your wrist, the other cupping your jaw.
He pulls back just enough to speak.
“Let me take care of you.”
You stare at him for a beat, heart kicking hard in your chest.
“Fine,” you mutter, trying to sound unbothered. “But don't expect any thank yous or shit.”
“I’ll survive,” he says, already smirking as his fingers work at your jeans. “Though, for the record, I think you’re gonna want to.”
You snort — right before he pops the button of your jeans and drags the zipper down, knuckles brushing your skin. You shiver.
“God, you’re cocky.”
He glances up, eyes flicking to yours. “You saying I haven’t earned it?”
You don’t answer. Your breath stutters when his hand slips beneath the waistband of your panties, palm flush against you.
He stills.
“Fuck,” he murmurs, voice dropping. “You’re wet already?”
“Shut up.”
He smiles cockily.
You roll your eyes — try to, anyway — but your thighs are already parting, your body moving without conscious thought. His fingers slide into you, testing the waters, and your head tips back with a soft sigh.
He watches your face like he’s waiting for something. When your mouth parts, when your hips twitch toward his hand, that’s when he moves.
His thumb finds your bud and he's gentle at first. Circling, then rubbing just a little firmer. You bite your lip hard, trying not to give him the satisfaction of the noises building in your throat.
“Still not thanking you,” you say through clenched teeth.
“Oh, you will,” he says, low. “Eventually.”
You glare at him. He grins back, fingers dragging lower, slipping in without resistance. You suck in a breath, and he laughs softly under it.
“Okay?” he asks, suddenly serious again.
You nod, maybe too quickly. “Yeah. More than okay.”
He starts moving his fingers — slow at first, too slow. Like he’s enjoying making you wait. You squirm, trying to rock your hips into his hand, but he tightens his grip on your thigh.
“Nuh-uh,” he says, eyes gleaming. “You’re letting me do the work, remember?”
“I hate you.”
“You’re literally grinding on my hand right now.”
You reach out blindly and smack his chest. He doesn’t even flinch — just slips another finger in, and your breath catches so hard it punches the air from your lungs.
“There it is,” he murmurs.
His thumb picks up a rhythm again, and the pressure starts to build fast. He knows it, too. His free hand slides around your waist, steadying you as your body starts to shake. Your fist curls into the soft fabric of his top, needing something to hold onto.
“Still hate me?” he asks, voice rougher now, his breath tickling the shell of your ear.
“Don’t flatter yourself— fuck—”
“Yeah?” His fingers curl just right, and your whole body tenses. “Right there?”
You nod, desperate, eyes squeezed shut. Your thighs are shaking. You’re so close you can’t even keep up the bit.
“Say it,” he says.
“Say what?”
“Tell me how good I make you feel.”
You groan. “Jesus, Jungkook—”
He slows down suddenly, barely moving his hand.
You whine. Actually whine.
“That’s not what I asked for.”
“God, you’re annoying,” you say, breathless.
He grins. “You're the one being the brat here.”
You drag your eyes open and glare at him, but it’s all heat now. All want. You lean in close, lips pressing against his.
"Fuck— fine. You feel so fucking good, Kook. Please, just don't stop."
He doesn’t.
He kisses you hard and fast, and his fingers start again, slick and firm and relentless. Your body clenches around him and this time, you don’t even try to hold the sounds back. His name leaves your mouth like muscle memory, and he groans into your kiss, like he’s the one coming undone.
When you break the kiss to suck in air, he presses his forehead to yours, voice rough in your ear.
“That’s it. Let go for me.”
You do.
Your body arches, thighs trembling as the orgasm washes over you sharp and fast. Your fingers dig into his back, into his top, into anything that keeps you tethered.
He doesn’t stop until you’re gasping, twitching, pushing his hand away because you’re too sensitive now.
He pulls back finally, breath warm against your skin, his fingers wet. He looks at you, gaze heavy, lips parted.
Then, without a word, he brings his fingers to your mouth.
“Open,” he says, low and steady.
You blink at him, your body still humming, brain half-melted. “What—?”
He brushes two slick fingers against your bottom lip, and your mouth parts on instinct.
“You said no thank yous,” he says, smirking. “So this’ll do.”
You glare at him, but your lips close around his fingers anyway. He watches every second — the way your mouth wraps around them, the way your tongue slides against the pads. His expression flickers from cocky to wrecked.
“Shit,” he mutters, voice rough now, the smugness cracking around the edges.
You suck once, slow and purposeful, eyes locked on his, and he jerks slightly under you — hips twitching like your mouth is on him instead. When you pull off with a soft pop, your lips are swollen and wet.
“You said mutual help,” you murmur, breath still catching on the end of every word. “It’s your turn.”
He blinks, like he’s short-circuiting.
You slide off his lap slowly, hands dragging down his chest, and his breath catches when you settle between his legs on your knees. You palm him over his jeans, and he hisses, already hard under your touch.
“Fuck,” he mutters, head tipping back.
“You okay there?” you ask, voice sweet, taunting. “Or do you need me to go slower?”
He looks down at you, pupils blown, jaw clenched. “Don’t be a brat.”
You unbutton his jeans, real slow, enjoying the way he twitches under your hands. “No promises.”
You drag the zipper down, tugging his jeans and boxers low enough to free him. He’s flushed and heavy, tip already glistening, and you swear you see his hips flex at just the sight of your mouth this close.
“Holy shit,” he breathes. “You look way too good down there.”
You wrap your hand around his cock, giving one slow stroke, and he groans like it surprises him.
You start slow. Just your hand. Thumb brushing over the sensitive ridge under the head, watching his thighs tense beneath your touch. His head drops back against the couch cushion, and you feel the way his hips subtly shift toward you, like his body’s trying to chase more without him even realising it.
You lean in and lick a slow stripe from base to tip, tongue flat, deliberate. His breath catches — then shudders out of him like you’ve knocked the air from his lungs.
“Shit,” he mutters again, voice strained.
You hum like you agree, and wrap your lips around the head, just barely. You suck, not hard — just enough to make him twitch. Your hand works in tandem, slow, steady strokes, and your mouth follows, inching lower until the tip presses against the back of your throat.
He moans, raw and wrecked. “Fuck, baby—”
The pet name is barely more than a gasp, almost like it slipped out without permission. Your stomach flips at the sound it.
His voice borders on the line of sounding pathetic, and it makes you want to press your thighs together.
You fall into rhythm — your lips sliding over him, tongue pressed firm underneath, hand twisting where your mouth leaves off. Every now and then, you let yourself get sloppy. Let the sound of it echo between you, let him hear what he’s doing to you.
He’s falling apart above you. You can tell by the way his hand flexes and releases in your hair, the way his thighs tremble every time you sink a little deeper. He’s breathing hard now, jaw slack, eyes barely open. Watching you. Like he still can’t believe this is real.
“God, your mouth—” His voice cuts off into a moan when you swallow around him, deep and slow. "You're gonna be the death of me."
You pull off just long enough to breathe, lips slick, chin wet. “You deserve it.”
He laughs, but it breaks halfway through. Your hand doesn’t stop moving.
“You like watching me fall apart, huh?”
You look up through your lashes, tongue flicking over the head. “More than a little.”
You go back down — deeper this time — and he chokes on a groan. His hips jerk up too sharply and he curses, hands fisting hard in your hair.
“Shit— I’m—” He’s panting now, thighs shaking. “I’m not gonna last if you keep— fuck, don’t—”
You suck harder, then moan around him just to hear the sound he makes. It’s almost a whimper.
“Baby, stop— wait— fuck— please—”
You pull off with a wet pop just before he tips over the edge, lips red and swollen, saliva clinging to your chin. He’s barely keeping it together. Chest heaving, flushed to the neck, cock twitching where it rests against his stomach.
“You were right there,” you say, feigning innocence, voice soft and ruined.
“Exactly," he says, sitting up. "I'm not done with you yet."
He drags the fabric of his top over his head, tossing it aside without a second thought. The moment it’s off, your breath catches.
Fuck.
He’s all golden skin and sharp lines, chest heaving, abs flexing with every breath. His tattoos curl over his shoulder and down his arm, black ink stark against flushed skin. His cock’s still hard, flushed dark, resting against his stomach, twitching when he sees the way you’re looking at him.
And you — still kneeling between his legs — can’t look away.
Then you rise, shaky but determined, and pull your top over your head, letting it fall. His eyes snap to your chest, lips parting like he’s just been punched in the gut. You're movements are purposefully slow as you pull down your jeans, then your panties.
“Jesus,” he mutters, eyes dragging down your body. “You’re a fucking dream.”
You crawl back into his lap, your bare skin meeting his, and the contact makes both of you gasp. You straddle him, knees on either side of his thighs, and he groans the moment your heat presses against his cock.
He fumbles for a condom, pulling it out from an inner pocket in the jacket he’d draped onto the couch earlier.
You watch as he tears it open and rolls it on, fingers practiced but tense. You reach between your bodies, guiding him to your entrance, and the second his tip slides against your soaked folds, his grip tightens on your hips.
“Fuck,” he mutters, voice shaking.
You sink down slowly, inch by thick inch, and your nails bite into his shoulders as you stretch around him. He’s big — your pussy gripping him tight, wet and pulsing as he fills you up. Every nerve lights up, every breath gets harder to catch.
“Holy fuck—” His head drops to your chest, groaning against your skin. “You’re so tight. So fucking warm. Gonna make me lose it.”
You whimper as you bottom out, walls fluttering around him. You can feel every vein, every twitch. It’s almost too much. Almost.
But not enough.
You start to move — slow, dragging lifts of your hips, circling them on the way back down. He watches, hands clamped on your ass, guiding the grind of your body like he already knows how to make you fall apart again.
You ride him, pace picking up fast, desperate. Every time your hips drop, the base of his cock grinds against your clit, slick sounds filling the room with every slap of skin against skin. His cock hits deep, stretching you wide, and a moan passes your lips.
He groans are low and guttural, eyes locked to where your bodies meet. “Goddamn, baby. Watching you fuck yourself on my cock— shit— never gonna forget this.”
You’re panting now, thighs burning, rhythm faltering. You try to keep going, but your legs are shaking.
He notices.
Without a word, he shifts under you, plants his feet flat on the floor, and grabs your hips tight.
“Let me help you, yeah?”
You nod. “Please.”
He starts thrusting up into you.
You cry out, spine arching, hands flying to his shoulders to hold on as he fucks you from underneath, sharp and deep. His hips snap up into you, cock pressing into your sweet spot over and over again.
The new angle is obscene. Filthy.
“Fuck, Jungkook— holy shit—”
He smirks up at you, sweaty hair sticking to his forehead. “That’s it. Take it, baby. Look at you— so cockdrunk already.”
Your pussy clenches around him, soaked and messy, and the sound of it is downright pornographic. His balls slap against your ass with every brutal thrust, and you can’t even think anymore. Just feel.
Your head falls back, hips rocking with his. “W-we’re still best friends, right, Kook?”
His rhythm stutters, hips slamming up too hard, too deep, and his jaw drops slightly like he’s not sure if he actually heard you right. His pupils are blown, face flushed, and he stares at you like you just kicked the last brain cell out of his skull.
“What the fuck,” he pants. “You can’t say that. Not when I’m— fuck— inside you.”
You whimper, walls clenching around him like your body’s reacting to how wrecked he sounds.
“That’s so fucked up,” he mutters, almost to himself. “Say it again and I might actually come on the spot.”
You huff out a weak laugh at that, hands tangling in his hair, and he groans, fucking you harder, deeper — like he needs to wipe the thought of friendship off your brain with every snap of his hips.
“Y-Yeah,” you gasp. “So close, fuck— don’t stop—”
He doesn’t. One hand slips between your bodies, fingers rubbing tight, fast circles over your clit while he pounds into you. You sob his name, hips stuttering, body locking up.
“Come on,” he grits out. “Wanna feel you squeeze me.”
That’s all it takes.
You break with a cry, body clamping down around him as your orgasm hits like a fucking freight train. Your pussy pulses around his cock, milking him, soaking him, your whole body shuddering with the force of it.
He slows just a little — just enough to let you ride it out — but he doesn’t pull out. He’s still hard inside you, jaw tight, eyes blown wide.
You collapse forward, panting into his neck, spent.
His hands slide down your spine, warm and possessive. “You good?”
You nod, still breathless. “Yeah. Jesus.”
"Good." He swiftly lifts you off him just enough to slip out, and you whimper at the sudden emptiness. But he doesn’t give you time to think.
He shifts, guiding you onto your back, his body following yours down to the couch. His hands frame your face as he settles between your legs, and when he presses back into you — thick and hard.
His eyes roam over you like he’s never seen anything more obscene or more beautiful. Your lips are swollen, parted in a messy moan. There’s a faint smudge of mascara under one eye from when you’d cried out his name, and your skin’s glowing — sweaty, flushed, wrecked.
“You’re so pretty like this,” he says, voice gone rough. “All fucked out for me.”
You pull him down into a kiss before you can think. It’s open-mouthed, greedy, teeth clashing a little. His hips start to move again, slow at first — long, deep thrusts that make your breath catch every time he bottoms out.
You wrap your legs around his waist, heels digging into his back to pull him deeper. His chest brushes yours, sticky skin against sticky skin, and your nails rake down his back.
He gasps into your mouth. “Fuck—”
“More,” you breathe, nails dragging again, leaving angry red lines down the muscle of his back. “Please.”
His hips snap harder, pace picking up again. He braces one hand beside your head and the other slides up your thigh, gripping tight enough to bruise. Your body rocks with every thrust, his cock slamming into you, the slap of his hips against yours louder now.
“You feel that?” he grits out, forehead pressed to yours, sweat dripping down his temple. “How tight you are around me? Fuck— I’m so deep, baby, you’re taking me so fucking good.”
You moan loud at his words, head falling back against the cushions.
He kisses down your neck, your collarbone, the swell of your breast — open-mouthed, wet kisses that make your skin burn. Then he’s back at your mouth, kissing you like it’s the only way he knows how to breathe.
He watches you with the kind of hunger that makes your stomach flip, watching how your brows pinch, how your mouth trembles, how you twitch around him with every stroke like you’re on the edge all over again.
And fuck, you are.
“Touch me,” you gasp, voice raw. “Kook, please—”
His fingers snake down your stomach, rubbing tight, perfect circles against your clit, synced with the rhythm of his thrusts. You cry out, thighs shaking around his waist, and he just watches — eyes dark and wild, like he can’t believe what he’s doing to you.
You clench hard around him, and he curses, slamming into you deeper, grinding at the end of each stroke.
“Gonna come again?” he pants. “Wanna come on my cock like that, baby? Let me feel you soak me?”
You’re nodding before he finishes, tears prickling in your eyes from how fucking intense it is. “Yes— yes, fuck, don’t stop—”
He kisses you as you fall apart — moaning into your mouth, swallowing every sound. You come again, whole body seizing around him. Your nails dig in, and he hisses at the pain, thrusting through it, fucking you right through the high.
When it ebbs, your body goes limp under him, chest heaving, lips swollen, slick dripping between your thighs.
Jungkook fucks into you again — slow, deep, like he’s trying to memorise the feel of you pulsing around him. His breath stutters, muscles drawn tight, every thrust rougher than the last.
“I’m not gonna last,” he pants, voice wrecked.
You bring your hands up to his hair, lightly tugging at his locks as you whisper, “Wanna feel you.”
He chokes on a moan, slamming into you one final time as he comes hard, cock twitching deep inside as he fills the condom.
His arms shake, muscles locked tight, and his face is buried in your neck as he rides it out, breath ragged, skin flushed and burning. You feel every pulse of it, every tremble in his frame, and all you can do is hold him there — legs wrapped tight around his waist, arms tangled around his shoulders, your nails still leaving stinging trails across his skin.
He presses kisses against your neck and jaw, eventually trailing up to your lips before pulling back to just look at you.
"I— you're perfect."
You smile, a familiar warmth enveloping your cheeks. "Yeah, yeah, you can stop with the flattery."
But he doesn’t smile back right away. He just watches you, quiet. Like he’s still catching up to the weight of what just happened. What’s still happening.
His hand drifts to your waist, thumb brushing lazily over your damp skin. “Let me run you a bath.”
You blink. “A bath?”
He nods, lips brushing your temple. “Yeah. You’re shaky. And I kinda wrecked you.”
You snort, catching the smugness in his voice. “What happened to, ‘Shit, baby, if you don’t stop I’m gonna come down your throat’?”
He groans, laughing. “Okay, first of all— rude. Second, I don’t sound like that.”
“Mm, you definitely do.”
He pinches your side lightly. “Keep talking, I’ll re-enact it right now.”
You shut up. But you’re smiling.
He stands a moment later, disappearing into the bathroom. You hear the water running, the soft clatter of bottles, his voice humming something low and familiar.
When he comes back, he tosses you a towel and holds out a hand, that same easy smile on his face. The one you’ve known forever. The one that makes everything feel… normal.
Even now.
You lace your fingers with his, let him pull you up.
Your legs are jelly. His hand doesn’t let go.
And as you follow him into the bathroom, skin still marked by his touch, lips still swollen from his kiss, a quiet thought flickers at the edge of your mind.
You guys were still best friends.
Right?
→ read part two here
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ఌ︎ Summary: After a terrible day, you run away from everything - to the only person who can bring you back to peace - Jungkook. In a cozy, semi-dark apartment filled with the scent of coffee candles and the warmth of whiskey, the boundaries between the two best friends are blurred. A friendly evening turns into something else: as you two talk about kisses, first touches, laughter, and memories, something that has long been hidden between words comes to light. One kiss and the night is no longer just a night.
ఌ︎ Couple: Jeon Jungkook/ The Reader, Jungkook/Y/N
ఌ︎ Age restrictions: 18+
ఌ︎ Size: one shot (3.6k)
ఌ︎ Tags: fluff, smut, from friends to lovers, best friends, romance, kissing, alcohol, support, tension, reciprocity, tenderness, first kiss, intimacy, mutual liking, night together, sex, unprotected sex, sex while intoxicated
ఌ︎ From author: So guys, unexpectedly for you and unexpectedly for me, I wrote this short story overnight 🤭 My sister and mom will kill me if she finds out that I don't sleep at night and write fanfiction 🤣 But I wrote it spontaneously because I saw an inspiring phrase on pinterest and it’s story instantly popped into my head 🥰 So I hope I didn't waste the night on this story (it took me all night to write it, translate, format, post) and here it is ✨ 💞 Enjoy 🤩💜🫶🏻
ఌ︎ Dedication: Of course for the first to my love of my life @curse-of-art, as well as to my most favorite girls @kelsyx33, @kooko009, @bhonbhon, @kookiesncreamri, @diame93, @kooklovee, @medstudentlifestyle, @tranquilreign, @someoneelse0109 you make me happy every time I go to the tumblr 💜🫶🏻
ఌ︎ Warning: English is not my native language, so the text may contain references or strangely worded sentences. Minors do not interact!
The city outside the window trembled with lights, as if tired of the day's bustle. Jungkook's apartment was semi-dark, the only source of light being a few scented candles on the floor, he loved so much. Jungkook lit them for you so that you could appreciate the new “black coffee” scent.
You were sitting next to each other on the carpet, leaning your back on the couch, whiskey glasses in your hands and a half-empty bottle and a box of chocolates between you. You shook the whiskey and ice in the big glass and exhaled heavily.
This day has been a real challenge for you. Your favorite sneakers broke in the middle of a rainstorm, and you were criticized at work for a presentation you had been working on for three nights. And to top it all off, your phone broke. The screen died completely, and you were left without connection, without YouTube videos of gamer streams, and most importantly, without music.
All of this knocked you out of your rut. You didn't know where to go, and for some reason, the only person you wanted to see on that terrible day was Jungkook. You wrote to him from your work laptop, it was late, but you desperately needed companionship.
You briefly told him how much fate ‘loved’ you and he laughed sincerely (a emoji in text of course), filling your soul with warmth, and then offered to come to his place and drink whiskey to send fate to hell. He had known you for many years and knew that the only way to help you was to be there for you, to help you relax and to talk to you. You were grateful for his support.
Now you could already feel the alcohol relaxing every muscle, erasing tension. Your hair was falling over your shoulders, and a light, slightly drunken smile was wandering across your face. You watched as Jungkook tilted his head slightly to the side, laughing at your grumbling about the day. It's been a few hours since you've been at Jungkook's place, but you still can't stop complaining about your fate. His eyes sparkled, either from the light of the lamp or from a few glasses of whiskey.
"I've been talking about this so much and I haven't even asked about you. What did you do today?" you asked, leaning lightly against his shoulder.
"Me?" He tilted his head back, looked up at the ceiling, as if remembering. "I spent the morning at the gym, had boxing practice, then had some boring meeting with investors. And then I stayed at home all evening, watching some stupid movie... Until you came," he added, looking at you with a slight smile.
"Oh, did I really save your evening with my life drama?"
"You always do," he said softly. And you suddenly felt your stomach clench. You smiled in embarrassment and turned your gaze to the candle. In fact, Jungkook always saves you, too. Even today.
You talked some more, your phrases softer, a little blurry. Alcohol removed the filters from your thoughts and topics of conversation. At some point - it's not clear how or why - you started talking about sex. It wasn't the first time you had a frank conversation, but it felt different. Maybe because of the tone - less joking, more serious.
"Kissing is what's really important to me," you said suddenly, putting down your glass. "Have I ever told you that I just love kissing? Don't give me bread and samgyopsal, just let me kiss."
Jungkook laughed, but his eyes showed interest. He looked from your face to your lips and back again.
"Really? Knowing how much you love samgyopsal... Even like that?" he smiled broadly.
"Uh-huh. It's like... I don't know, like a dance. Different rhythms, feelings. Sometimes slow and gentle, sometimes hot and hungry. It's like a way to understand a person," you said, as if feeling the moment.
"Do you remember your first kiss?" he asked, still smiling. "What was it like?
"Ha..." you hummed, leaning back. "Funny. I was fifteen and he kissed like a wet fish. But at the time, I thought it was the most romantic moment of my life."
Jungkook snorted, and you laughed with him for company.
"Who was it?" he questioned you.
"It was a boy from the parallel class. He liked me. He gave me so many gifts and fed me all the time. I think, what worked the most was this, that’s why I gave him my first kiss," you joked.
You picked up a chocolate candy and put it in your mouth, after taking another sip of the honey-colored alcohol. Jungkook laughed, shaking his head.
"You haven't changed since then," he said. "If someone guy bought you a wagyu, I bet a 20 thousand won, you'd sleep with him on the first date."
You raised your eyebrows and pushed him lightly in the shoulder.
"God, Jeon, who do you take me for?" you paused briefly. "Only if he was really good looking," you joked.
You laughed again and you felt yourself finally relaxing. Jungkook wanted to know more about why kissing was so important to you, so he continued to ask you questions.
"So what kind of kisses do you like?"
You thought, twirling the glass in your hands. You unconsciously bit your lip and it couldn't escape his gaze.
"With depth... But not always. Sometimes just a light touch is enough. I like it when it starts with tenderness, like an exploration. I love kisses that start when you don't even realize when they became so passionate. When you forget where to put your hands because you want to feel everything," you said as if you were living these words.
Jungkook was silent, looking at you intently. When you felt the silence, you turned your face to him and were slightly taken aback. His tongue ran along his lower lip, and then he nodded slightly.
"You described it all so interestingly. And now I'm not even sure if I want another whiskey or if I just want to know exactly how you kiss."
You giggled, awkwardly, almost hysterically, but the smile dissolved in his eyes. Jungkook began to lean toward you, and you were mesmerized, seeing only his lips. He was very close, and you screamed, instinctively stopping him.
"What are you doing?" you asked, your voice shaking with excitement. Jungkook didn't move away, just forced his gaze away from your lips.
"I was going to kiss you," he said, as if it was a normal thing between you. You turned away awkwardly, pulling away a little.
"Are you go out your mind? We're friends! Friends aren't supposed to kiss, even if we're drunk..." you said, feeling hot and your heart racing.
It would seem that after your remarks, Jungkook should have backed off, told a joke, and that this incident would have been just a misunderstanding.
But you felt him gently grasp your wrist, and in an instant he pulled you to him, settling you on his lap. You screamed, not expecting such actions from your best friend.
Your faces were separated by a few centimeters, and your hot breaths with the taste of whiskey, mingled You felt that Jungkook's grip was strong. His large palm squeezed your waist, giving you no chance to escape.
"Come on, Y/N. A few kisses won't ruin our friendship," he assured you. You looked into his eyes and saw a mischievous spark. "Just a test, especially since you like to kiss."
You were silent. Your brain was screaming that this was a bad idea, that tomorrow when you were sober would be awkward, that you would ruined everything. But your body didn't listen. You were sitting on his lap, hearing your heart pounding furiously, and even more furiously, his. His palm, warm and steady, held you close. Your eyes met.
"Kook... it's going to be awkward between us when we're sober," you whispered, not quite sure if you wanted to stop him or push him closer.
His eyes changed - there was no more mischief in them. Only intense expectation and desire. You felt his hand slide down your back, stopping at your neck. His thumbs gently touched your skin.
"It won't," he whispered and kissed you. His lips touched yours lightly, almost inaudibly. Like that "light touch" you were talking about. And only a moment later, the kiss became deeper, bolder, as if he had heard every word you said in that conversation and wanted to give you exactly that.
His kiss was really a dance. His tongue intertwined with yours, warming the wave of desire between your legs. Jungkook broke the kiss for a moment, but only to lick your lower lip. You felt his wet tongue on your plump pad, and then he bit you.
Your fingers closed on his T-shirt, as if looking for support. And your mind was empty - only the touch, only him.
The throbbing between your legs increased exponentially, and Jungkook didn't want to stop. His tongue penetrated your mouth again, making you even more intoxicated. He kissed you so hard that you felt slightly dizzy.
You could feel his cock getting hard. He was pressing lightly into your buttocks. He felt the same desire as you.
But as much as you wanted this moment to last forever, you had to take a breath of air. Jungkook broke the kiss and you slowly opened your eyes. He was still close, but on his lips, the same ones that had just kissed you, was more than a satisfied smile.
"How interesting," he said in a low, husky voice. "Turns out my friend is a pretty damn good kisser."
You sighed, but it sounded more like a moan-a held, raspy breath after a storm. His words made you smile, but somewhere deep in your chest, you clenched, as if this moment was on the verge of being real and dangerous.
"Can we consider the test passed?" you asked, trying to hide the tremor in your voice, although your hand was still holding his shirt as if you were afraid it would disappear.
Jungkook looked down at your lips and then back up into your eyes. His face was serious, and the touch of his hand on your waist was insistent. He lowered it to your buttocks for a moment, and then his hand, deliberately, slowly went under your blouse. He touched his fingers to your stomach, making your skin tingle, and then his fingers found your breasts. He squeezed one of them and you moaned reflexively. You immediately felt him harden more beneath you.
"How about we move on to the practical part of the test?" he asked slyly. His fingers played with your nipple, squeezing it between them. You almost choked when he lifted your blouse and took your bud into his mouth.
His wet tongue sucked in the tender skin. Your nipple became hard, pressing against the softness of his tongue. You whispered his name, almost silently, more like a pleading sigh than a conscious sound.
"Jungkook..."
His eyes rose to meet yours. Hot, dark, thirsty. And you knew there was no turning back. Everything that had been between you before disappeared in the pulsating tension of this moment.
Jungkook let go of your nipple, ran his tongue lightly around it, making you shudder, and kissed you lower, slowly, carefully, as if studying every millimeter of your skin.
His hand moved to your hip, slipping under your skirt. His fingers touched the inside of your thigh, warmly, decisively. Jungkook was in no hurry, but he didn't give you time to recover.
"You're so beautiful..." he whispered, swallowing your reactions, every moan, every shudder.
"No..." you exhaled, wanting to tell him not to give you these fucking compliments. He shouldn't.
"Yes," he argued. "Fucking hot," he whispered against your lips.
His fingers finally touched your underwear, which was soaking wet.
"Fuck... You're all ready for me, aren't you?" His whisper was deafeningly intimate. "Is that from just one kiss?"
You couldn't answer. Your fingers dug deeper into his shoulders, and your head tilted back. Jungkook pushed the underwear to the side and slowly slid his finger between your folds, making you shudder and clench your thighs.
"Relax... I want you to feel good," he said softly as he pushed his finger inside you. Your back arched in pleasure as he began to move rhythmically, feeling you grip him from the inside. You were tight, and it felt good on Jungkook's fingers. He felt a new wave of excitement as he imagined your tight walls enveloping his cock.
You sobbed, trying to hold back a moan, but it was useless. His thumb pressed down on your clit, and a wave of sweet madness swept over you.
"Tell me if you like it, Y/N..." his voice was husky, heavy with desire. He leaned down and nuzzled his lips into your neck, continuing to caress you from the inside.
"Yes, Kook... more... please..." you choked on your pleasure, your voice breaking. Your hips began to thrust to meet his fingers.
His smile was hot, almost animalistic. He took you to the very edge and suddenly stopped, withdrawing his finger.
"Not now," he said, leaning down to your ear. "I want to be inside you when you come. I want to feel you squeezing me from the inside..."
You could barely breathe. His words burned you from the inside out, and your body trembled with desire. You couldn't even deny how much you wanted your friend right now.
"Get up," he ordered in a soft tone. "Would it be more comfortable on the couch, or do you want to do it on the floor?"
You tried to steady your breathing. Your cheeks were pink and your lips were swollen from his passionate kisses.
"On the floor?" you stammered.
Jungkook smiled, but there was no trace of joking in his eyes. Only a fierce desire that burned the air between you.
"Do you want on the floor, on the couch, on the kitchen table... I don't care where, Y/N..." his voice was low, and he slid his fingers along your jaw, forcing you to look him straight in the eye, "I just want to be inside you. Right now."
Your body shuddered at these words, the feeling of butterflies mixed with arousal left no room for doubt if this was the right thing to do. It seemed that the air had become thicker.
You stood up from his lap, but he didn't let you go far away, just took your hand and gently laid you down on the soft carpet in front of the couch. The surface beneath you was warm, but his gaze was even hotter as he stood over you, pulling off his T-shirt. His torso, toned, with well-defined muscles, made you forget how to breathe. And his tattoos made him look even hotter and sexier in this semi-dark room.
He knelt down, leaning over you, and his palms slipped under your skirt. In one steady motion, he pulled off your underwear, keeping his eyes on you. And then - slowly, as if in a slow motion movie - he unbuttoned his jeans, pulled down his pants, took off his boxers, freeing his hard, erected cock.
You only had time to look at him, and this look sent a wave of even greater desire through you, your wetness between your legs became abundant.
Jungkook lay down over you, leaning on his elbows. His nose touched yours, and he kissed you more gently than a minute ago, as if he was thanking you for your trust. Then he ran his fingers between your thighs again, making sure you were still as wet - and you were even wetter. His breathing became heavier.
"Ready?" he asked, not taking his eyes off you. His tip was already touching you, tempting you in your most sensitive spot.
You just nodded, your eyes sparkling, your breasts rising in a ragged rhythm.
Jungkook pressed on and plunged into you. When the head of his cock began to stretch your hole, you felt a pleasant pressure at first, but after a moment he had to stop because you felt pain. You made a sound that sounded more like an exhausted moan. You raised your eyebrows.
Jungkook came closer and touched your lips, distracting your attention. He plunged his tongue into your mouth and you accepted it without question. He pressed and you moaned in pain into his mouth.
Your best friend continued kissing you, slowly entering you. He stretched you every inch of the way, and you felt your body accepting him... until the last drop.
He parted your lips, and another moan escaped your lips without permission.
Jungkook froze, letting you get used to it. His forehead pressed against yours. His breath mingled with yours. And only then did he start moving-slowly, steadily.
You no longer understood what was real and what was not. Only his body in yours. His hands on your skin. His name escaping your lips in every moan.
For a moment, he was almost exited, and then he plunged into you, knocking the air out of your lungs.
"So tight, I love it so much," he whispered into your ear, pressing your body tighter against his, fucking you rhythmically. Your legs intertwined on his ass. "Fuck Y/N you take me so well, so fucking good inside you," he swore without restraining his emotions which were like fireworks.
He suddenly began to move sharply and deeply. The sensations of these movements made you lose all control.
"Kook... damn..." you had never felt so good during sex before. You literally thought it was the best sex you'd ever had.
"Yes... feel my cock, it's so perfect for you, love" he said in a breathy voice.
And when he started moving faster, you couldn't hold back any longer. You squeezed his shoulders, stretched your lips to his neck, dug your feet into his hips, letting him in deeper.
"Y/N..." he whispered, "that's so good... I can't... I can't last..."
"I...me neither..." your fingers dug into his back. "Kook, I'm going to..."
And at that very moment he squeezed you tighter, gave you one last deep thrust... and you exploded inside him. He felt your body shuddering around him, your tight velvet walls squeezing him to the point of insanity. Jungkook abruptly pulled out of you with a deep, heavy moan. You swear it's the sexiest thing you've ever heard. He spilled all over your stomach, you felt his body cum splattering on your skin.
He froze, holding you in his arms, and then lay on top of you, you felt gentle kisses on your neck as your bodies shuddered with the last waves of pleasure.
And then - silence.
Warm, sweet, slightly dizzying silence and only the sound of your heavy breathing.
You were lying under him, covered in a sheen of sweat, his sperm flowing warmly on your stomach, and your cheeks burning. Not just from physical pleasure, but from the realization that you had just slept with your best friend. And while your body was still feeling pleasure, your mind was already panicking.
Jungkook stopped kissing you and looked up at you. Your skin was flushed, your eyelashes were fluttering, and your cheeks were covered in a red blush. You couldn't look him in the eye, you were so embarrassed, even though you had just let him into the most intimate part of you.
"You're blushing..." he mocked, and his lips stretched into a smug smile that made you pull your neck into your shoulders even more.
"Don't look..." you muttered, covering your face with your hand.
Jungkook laughed softly as he removed your hand from your face. His voice was a little husky, deep, still filled with an echo of pleasure, but calm and warm at the same time.
"Why are you so sweet now, huh? Y/N, it's..." he took a breath, brushing the damp hair from your forehead, "sooner or later it was going to happen anyway, we both feel this sexual tension between us."
You swallowed quietly. His gaze was so penetrating... direct. You felt your heart pounding again, not with passion, but with excitement.
"I just..." you swallowed. "It's the first time I've ever done something so... spontaneous."
"And was it bad?" his smile grew wider, and he traced your cheek with his finger. "Because it was absolutely... fucking good for me."
"Kook!" you punched him in the chest, still not daring to look him in the eye.
"Hey, don't be afraid of it, okay?" his voice became more serious, but didn't lose its softness. "We did what we both wanted, aren’t we? And I'm not going to let you make this about shame or regret. Because I don't regret it for a moment."
Jungkook kissed you again, this time gently, long, on the lips, moving slowly, as if he wanted to put everything he hadn't had time to say in words into that kiss.
You returned the kiss, allowing yourself to dissolve in this tenderness for a moment. His lips were soft, warm, soothing. He pulled away from you.
"We need to take a shower, and you know what else?" He touched your hair and playfully tossed it back.
"What?"
Jungkook stood up and knelt down. You sat down, trying not to look at his crotch. You were covered in his cum and tried not to move too much so that it wouldn't get on the carpet.
"I am hungry. You used up all my energy, woman!" he joked. You smiled, feeling secretly pleased by his words.
You stood up, watching him look at your naked body, and his eyes darkened slightly.
"Order the fried chicken , and I'm going to take a shower. I'm hungry too."
˶° Summary: After a chance encounter at a party where sparks flew between you and Jungkook, you see him again—this time amid the adrenaline rush of illegal street racing. One risky race, a chase with the cops, and a night on the beach turn the tension between you into a passion you can't escape.
˶° Couple: Jeon Jungkook x The Reader, Jungkook x Y/N
˶° Age restrictions: 18+
˶° Size: one shot (9k+ words)
˶° Tags: strangers to lovers, dom!jungkook, sub!reader, racing au, illegal street racing, adrenaline rush, police chase, bad boy jungkook, tattooed jungkook, party vibes, sexual tension, smoking, angst with smut, slow burn to passion, car sex, risky romance, forbidden desire, pusan nights, toxic chemistry, nsfw, smut, explicit content, rough sex, fingering, oral sex, car sex, semi public sex, protected sex, dirty talk, teasing, sexual tension, body worship, size kink, overstimulation, passionate sex, biting and marking
˶° From author: If you're wondering what inspired me to write this story, read the end of the post 👇🏻 But I have to say here that this is a GIFT for you, my dear ones, in honor of Jungkook's birthday ❤️🔥🎂🎉
˶° Warning: This story contains explicit scenes of a sexual nature, descriptions of physical intimacy, use of profanity, and themes that may be uncomfortable for some readers. Recommended for readers aged 18+. The story focuses on sexual tension, provocations, and romantic interactions that may evoke strong emotions. Since English is not my native language, some sentences may have unusual constructions or grammatical inaccuracies. Thank you for your understandin!g!
The evening was supposed to end peacefully. You and your friend wanted to relax after a hard week. The club was pulsing with electronic music, the lights were flashing to the beat of the bass, and the cocktail in your hand was slowly melting, leaving a barely noticeable bitterness on your tongue. It was around three o'clock when you decided to go home.
"Taehyung is on his way," your friend, Hannah, smiled as she received a message. "He says he'll be here in five minutes."
"Oh, finally. I can't feel my legs anymore," you grimaced, leaning toward her.
"Let's go wait for him outside," Hannah said.
It was warm outside. And after the stuffy club, being out in the open air was bliss. You were wearing a black top with bows on the shoulders that exposed your collarbones and black loose pants with white stripes and buttons down the sides that flared slightly at the bottom, exposing your knees and thighs with every step. Your hair was loose, with only a few strands gathered in a small hair clip to keep them from falling on your face. The white sneakers on your feet were your salvation, and you were glad you wore them because they saved your feet.
You and your friend walked away from the club entrance, and at that very moment, a black Tesla Model Y pulled up. Behind the wheel was Taehyung, Hannah's boyfriend. He was tall, with messy hair and a habit of playfully biting his lower lip when he was excited about something. And right now, it seemed he was.
You got into the car. You greeted Taehyung cheerfully and settled comfortably in the back seat, dreaming of taking a bath and going to bed. Hannah kissed Taehyung on the lips, and you tried not to look. You always felt awkward at moments like this. You unlocked your phone and went on Instagram to check who had viewed your stories.
"Well, are you ready for adventure?" you heard Taehyung's voice as he pulled away.
You looked up and saw the guy's profile, a smile playing on his lips.
"I thought you were taking us home," you said, a little tensely. Hannah turned sharply to you, looking over her seat with a broad smile.
"That was the plan at first," Taehyung laughed. "But on the way to your place, Jungkook called me. He said there's going to be a cool race."
"A race?" There was alarm in your voice.
"Yes! And not just a race, but the season finale. In the industrial zone, as usual!" Taehyung clarified.
"But it's an illegal race. If the police are there and I get caught, I'll get a reprimand at work. And that's if I'm lucky..." you muttered, trying to convince your friends not to take you there.
"You're exaggerating," Hannah waved her hand. "The police don't care about races at three in the morning in an industrial area. And Jungkook will be happy to see you again, I’m sure," she encouraged you, but you barely managed to keep from grimacing. Because in reality, there was something unresolved between you and Jungkook.
Jungkook was a guy you met a few weeks ago at a party. It was one of those parties you were persuaded to go to literally an hour before it started. Jungkook was Taehyung's friend. You remember how he appeared out of nowhere. You first noticed him because of the way he moved through the crowd — confidently, but with a natural ease, as if he didn't care who was looking at him.
Dark hair, slightly tousled, tattoos peeking out from under the sleeves of his black T-shirt, and that seemingly indifferent gaze, but with a spark of playfulness. Taehyung introduced you to each other, and you immediately felt your heart beat faster when Jungkook smiled, revealing dimples on his cheeks.
The party continued, and when you got a little tired of the noise and dancing, you found a place in the kitchen where there were the fewest people. Jungkook came in a few minutes later, supposedly to get a drink. He sat down next to you and you started talking. At first, it was casual banter about the music being too loud and how Hannah and Taehyung had already put on a mini-show on the dance floor.
Your conversation flowed easily as he talked about his car, how he loved speed and the feeling of freedom when racing down the night roads. You listened, but mostly looked at him — at his profile, at how he slightly narrowed his eyes when he laughed, at how his lips touched the beer can, at how his tongue quickly and deftly picked up every drop of the drink.
He sat close, his knee almost touching yours, his eyes lingering on you longer than a normal conversation required. And you couldn't help but feel a sense of confidence that a man like Jungkook had noticed you. He was incredibly attractive, and the longer you were in his company, the more you wanted to stay.
At one point, the kitchen became crowded and noisy. As you watched several guys trying to clear space on the kitchen table to arm wrestle, you felt hot breath on your ear and heard his low voice:
"Let's go outside and get some fresh air."
Because of the surprise, you turned your head too sharply and almost bumped into his lips. He lingered on your lips, then took your hand and led you through the noisy crowd that was already watching the fight.
Once outside, Jungkook let go of your hand and lit a cigarette. He took a long, deep drag. The cigarette smoke left his lips in a thick veil that quickly dissolved into the air. Jungkook looked at you, and you couldn't hold his gaze for long. You quickly looked away, hearing his voice somewhere to the side.
"Do you mind if I smoke?" His voice sounded calm, almost playful.
"You're already smoking. Will you put it out if I say I don't want you to?" you replied, glancing over your shoulder. He took another drag and followed you, waving the smoke away so it wouldn't touch you.
"If you say you don't want me to, I'll throw it away," he replied. You stopped and turned around. Jungkook was only half a step away from you. You tilted your head back, only now realizing how tall and broad he was. It seemed as if he filled the entire space. Jungkook looked at you, and you saw a spark in his eyes.
"I don't want you to. Don't smoke," you said deliberately, to see if he would keep his word.
He smiled — first with the corner of his lips, then more broadly, as if he really liked your boldness. After pausing for a few seconds, he threw the cigarette at his feet and crushed it with his shoe. You watched his movements, and when you looked up again, you found yourself captivated by his gaze.
You looked at each other, and the idea of kissing him was imposed on your mind. You smelled his perfume, which had a narcotic effect on you, mixed with the slight taste of tobacco that still lingered in the air.
Jungkook was standing so close that you could feel the warmth of his body, and it made your heart beat faster. His gaze was magnetic, as if he could see right through you, and you couldn't look away, even though somewhere inside you felt a slight fear of where this might lead.
"Well, you really made me quit smoking," he said with a slight smile, but there was a note of surprise in his voice, as if he himself did not expect to obey your words. He stepped even closer, and now there were only a few inches between you. You felt his fingers lightly touch your wrist, as if checking whether you would let him. You didn't pull your hand away. "But I could use one to ease my nerves," his voice became quieter, deeper, and you felt goosebumps run down your skin.
You wanted to say something witty, but the words stuck in your throat. Instead, you just smiled slightly, holding his gaze.
"Easy your nerves?" you smiled, feeling the alcohol and his closeness breaking down all your barriers.
"You know, I've been trying all evening to figure out how to be alone with you," he whispered, and those words made your insides tighten.
You didn't have time to answer because in the next moment his lips touched yours — at first cautiously, as if he was giving you a chance to back away. But you didn't back away. You responded to the kiss, and it immediately became deeper, more insistent. His hand slid to your waist, and then his fingers slipped slightly under the edge of your top, touching your skin. The touch was like an electric shock, and you felt your knees buckle slightly.
You stood under the house, in the shadows, where the light from the street lamps barely reached. His kiss was confident but not rough, and you lost track of time, immersing yourself in the moment. But suddenly you heard voices—loud laughter and footsteps. Two girls came out of the house, one of them shouting when she saw Jungkook. She said that everyone wanted him to take part in an arm wrestling match.
Jungkook stepped away, glancing at them quickly, and you felt the moment slip away. The girls were drunk, and one of them approached you, paying no attention to you, and literally took him away from you. The girl who took Jungkook dragged him by the arm toward the house, laughing loudly and shouting something about how he "had to beat everyone" in arm wrestling.
He glanced back at you over his shoulder, his eyes still sparkling, but he let himself be led away, reluctantly but without much resistance. Jungkook went into the house, and you stayed outside, still a little excited from the feeling of his palm under your top.
You could have gone back into the house, found Hannah, or just joined in the buzz of the party, but your feet seemed to be glued to the ground. You stood there, staring at the door through which Jungkook had just disappeared, wondering if you should follow him. But something held you back — maybe pride, or maybe the fear that he would no longer pay attention to you once he returned to the noisy crowd. You sighed and sat down on the curb, taking out your phone to distract yourself. Instagram stories, messages from Hannah ("Where are you? I'm in the kitchen, come on over!"), but all you could think about was him.
A few minutes later, the door opened again, and you involuntarily looked up, hoping it was Jungkook. But it was just another group of guests who had come out to smoke and were discussing something loudly.
You looked away, feeling your mood slowly sinking. Jungkook never came back to you. You waited a little longer, but finally decided not to chase after him. You returned to the house, found Hana, who was already a little drunk and dancing with Taehyung, and just spent the rest of the evening trying not to think about what had happened.
When the evening was over, you said goodbye to Jungkook with just a quick glance. He was standing with a group of guys, holding a bottle of beer in his hand, and just nodded slightly to you with the same cheeky smile. You didn't know why he didn't come over, ask for your number, or say anything else. Maybe for him it was just a moment, one of many that he easily lets go. But you couldn't shake the feeling that your kiss with him had affected you much more deeply than you wanted to admit.
But his words, "I wanted to be alone with you," now sounded like a cheap trick to lower your guard. Who knows what would have happened if that girl hadn't come out to pick up Jungkook? Was there something more between you?
Now, sitting in Taehyung's car on the way to the race, you felt those memories come back with renewed force. Hana kept chattering about how cool it would be to see Jungkook behind the wheel and what a first-class driver he was, while Taehyung joked that he would "put on a show again."
You remained silent, staring out the window at the flashing lights of the city at night. You weren't sure if you were ready to see him again, or if you were ready for him to act as if nothing had happened between you. But no one knew about you, and you had to pretend that you would be interested in the races.
Taehyung's car stopped on the outskirts of an industrial area, where a crowd was already buzzing. The industrial area in Busan was the perfect place for such illegal races: wide asphalt roads, empty warehouses, and no prying eyes. Summer in Busan was hot, and even at night the air remained warm, with a slight hint of the sea.
Taehyung parked, and you and Hannah got out of the car. Music from portable speakers mixed with the roar of engines and the shouts of people. Taehyung led you to a group of guys standing near the improvised "organizers' area" — a few folding chairs and a table with drinks.
He approached each of them and shook their hands, leaning his shoulder against them.
"Hey guys, you remember Y/N, right?" Taehyung shouted so he could be heard better. He quickly introduced you to everyone present because, unlike these guys who recognized you (you couldn't know why), you didn't remember almost any of them. Apparently, they were at the party, the same one where you met Jungkook.
The guys greeted you, each in their own way: Namjoon with a confident smile, Hoseok with a friendly nod, Yoongi raised his eyebrow slightly and greeted you in an indifferent tone, Jimin winked cheerfully, and Jin bowed theatrically, making everyone laugh. You noticed that they looked relaxed and cheerful, and it was captivating.
You felt a strange excitement inside, waiting for the one man you couldn't find in the crowd. Suddenly, the crowd erupted in cheers, and you turned your head toward the road. A Mercedes-AMG GT R roared to the finish line, followed by a BMW and an Audi.
The cars stopped, and the crowd began to chant:
"JK! JK!"
Your heart skipped a beat, and you immediately realized that Jungkook was behind the wheel of the Mercedes. He got out of the car, and you couldn't take your eyes off him. He was wearing a black sleeveless T-shirt that hugged his broad shoulders and highlighted the tattoo on his arm. Dark, worn jeans sat low on his hips, and black sneakers completed the look. His hair was slightly tousled, and he looked as attractive as ever, you would even say perfect. His face was lit up with the cheeky smile you remembered from the party.
Jungkook approached the crowd, where he was immediately surrounded, greeted, and patted on the back. His eyes scanned the crowd, and suddenly he stopped when he saw you. His smile softened, becoming almost intimate. His eyebrows rose slightly. He was pleasantly surprised to see you here.
When the crowd finally let Jungkook go, he approached his friends, where you were standing next to Hannah, who was in Taehyung's arms. Jungkook hugged each of his friends, accepting their greetings, and then his eyes met yours again.
"Hi," he said softly, as if you hadn't seen each other in weeks, but had just been talking.
"Hi," you replied, feeling a rush of heat wash over your body, and barely managed to respond.
From further conversations and actions, you realized that it was Jimin who had organized the whole event. A moment later, he was on an improvised stage made of folding chairs, raising his hand to call everyone to silence. His energy ignited the crowd, and even in the chaos of shouting and music, he easily commanded attention.
"All right, listen up! It's time for the final race!" he proclaimed, and the crowd erupted in cheers. "Me, Jungkook, and Jin! And, as always, according to tradition, everyone takes a passenger!"
You heard the crowd cheer with shouts, applause, and whistles. You also started clapping along with everyone else, not noticing that Jungkook was right behind you.
Jimin explained that the tradition of taking a passenger began as a joke a few years ago when one of the racers took a friend with him to "show off" his skills. Over time, it became a ritual: the passenger adds weight to the car, making the race more difficult, but at the same time it's a way to show what you're capable of when the stakes are high.
"It's like a dance with risk," Jimin added with a smile, and the crowd roared again. He climbed down from the stool and pointed at Taehyung. "You're with me, bro!" Taehyung laughed and slapped him on the shoulder, and Hannah clapped her hands happily.
Jin, standing nearby, put his arm around his girlfriend's waist and declared:
"I'll take my queen." She rolled her eyes but smiled, clearly accustomed to his theatricality. All eyes turned to Jungkook, and only when you saw everyone looking behind you did you realize that he had been standing there the whole time.
"Who will you take for the final chord, buddy?" Jimin asked, still hugging Taehyung.
Jungkook glanced at you. You looked away for a moment, confused, but he looked straight ahead, and everyone around understood who Jungkook's passenger would be.
"Will you ride with me?" he asked with a playful smile, and you almost fainted. Take part in the race? With Jungkook? Be alone with him in a cramped car? You unconsciously took a step aside, shaking your head in denial.
"I... no... I won't go. I'm afraid of speed," you muttered, feeling a wave of heat run down your back.
Standing nearby, Taehyung laughed:
"Jungkook is more skilled at speed than a bus driver at 70 km/h. You're in safe hands!"
Jungkook just smiled, tilting his head slightly.
"If you're afraid, you don't have to go. I'm not forcing you," he added, but in his eyes you saw a challenge mixed with something warm, almost tender.
Hannah, who was standing next to you, suddenly nudged you with her elbow and whispered,
"Are you serious? Don't refuse, he wants you. This is your chance to charm him," she winked, and you felt your resistance weakening. You looked at Jungkook, at his calm confidence, and nodded. It was a chance, and you had to take it.
You approached the Mercedes-AMG GT R, feeling your heart pound. Jungkook opened the passenger door, letting you go first. You sat down, smelling the leather interior and the light scent of his perfume.
Next to Jungkook's Mercedes was Jimin's Audi, where he and Taehyung sat, and on the other side was Jin's Mustang, where he was already sitting with his girlfriend.
Jungkook got behind the wheel. You looked around the interior awkwardly, expecting something completely crazy. Jungkook adjusted everything around him to make it as comfortable as possible, checking the dashboard, mirrors, steering wheel, and seats.
He started the engine, and then you suddenly felt him lean toward you. His hand slid to the seat belt. His face was so close that you felt the warmth of his breath on your cheek.
"It's safer this way," he said quietly, and his fingers lightly touched your shoulder, causing a tremor inside you. You glanced at him, trying to hide how much his closeness embarrassed you.
Suddenly, a loudspeaker in the crowd shouted:
"Cops! They'll be here in a couple of minutes, get out of here!"
The crowd scrambled, cars began to drive away, and Jungkook cursed under his breath. He gripped the steering wheel and said,
"Hold on tight," and the Mercedes roared away with such a roar that you clung to your seat, feeling adrenaline rush through your veins.
He raced through the industrial zone, maneuvering between other cars with incredible precision. Police sirens blared somewhere behind you, but Jungkook remained calm, his hands firmly on the wheel, his gaze focused. You were scared, but you couldn't help but admire his skill — every turn was smooth, every movement deliberate. You felt fear mixed with a strange sense of trust in him.
Jungkook drove out of the industrial zone and headed for the Busan waterfront. The sirens grew quieter but could still be heard in the distance. He slammed on the brakes near the beach. Jungkook unbuckled his seatbelt and said to you,
"Quick, follow me!" he commanded. With trembling hands, you unbuckled your seatbelt and ran after him, feeling your heart pounding with adrenaline and panic.
In an instant, he grabbed your hand and you ran together along the beach toward the ocean. Jungkook stopped at the shore and turned to you.
"Take your clothes off," he said, already pulling off his T-shirt and jeans, leaving only his boxers on. You froze.
"What? Why?" Your voice trembled with cold and confusion.
"The police will be looking for whoever ran away from the race. If we're in the water in our underwear, they'll think we're just a couple on the beach," he explained, throwing his clothes into the sand. He buried the car keys underneath them.
You heard sirens getting closer and, without hesitation, quickly pulled off your top and pants, leaving you in your black underwear. Jungkook grabbed your hand and pulled you into the water. The cold sea water burned your skin, and you involuntarily pressed yourself against him as he hugged you, shielding you from the cold.
Your faces were only a few inches apart, and you were still trembling in his arms. His gaze was mischievous, probably amused by your frightened look.
"Don't be afraid, I'm with you," he said softly, and his voice sounded so calm that you involuntarily relaxed.
You stood in the water, looking at each other. You felt his arm tighten around your waist.
"You can wrap your legs around me, it'll be warmer if you're close," he suggested. You listened to him without hesitation. In a moment, you were already pressing yourself against his chest, trying to ignore the fact that his cock was pressing against your pussy.
Jungkook put his hands on your butt, pressing your body against his in the water, and you felt his warmth surround you. You involuntarily squeezed his shoulders, catching him looking at your lips.
He smiled, and the moment between you became so intimate that you could no longer ignore the throbbing between your legs, which was growing stronger.
"You probably think I'm an asshole," he said, and you felt his voice rumbling in your chest.
"Why do you think I think that?" you asked, barely restraining yourself from looking at his lips.
"We kissed, and I didn't even take your phone number," said Jungkook, and you snorted.
"I’m think, if you didn't take my number, it means you didn't like the kiss," you said ironically. Jungkook chuckled. His gaze fell on your lips again and lingered there.
"Can I tell you the truth?" Jungkook asked, leaning slightly toward your cheek. He noticed two police officers approaching you in the distance behind you.
"Go ahead," you said briefly, feeling your breath catch.
"I liked the kiss so much that I wanted to fuck you," Jungkook confessed right then and there into your ear. His words made the throbbing between your legs grow stronger, and a powerful wave of heat ran through your body, seeming to warm the water around you. "I would have done it if we hadn't been interrupted, but when they took me away, I decided you were too good for someone like me, baby."
You froze, feeling Jungkook's words still echoing in your head, his hands holding you tightly by the ass, pressing you against his warm body. So he planned to fuck you but was afraid that you weren't the type to sleep with a stranger? You wanted to ask him why he had made such assumptions about you, but the beams of approaching headlights and the voices of police officers brought you back to reality with a jolt.
"Hey, you two there, get out of the water!" one of the police officers shouted, his voice sounding stern but with a hint of fatigue. Jungkook didn't lose his composure. He moved away slightly but didn't let go of you, his hands remaining on your buttocks as if to protect you.
"What's up, officer?" he replied with an innocent smile, his tone calm, almost playful. "We're here with my girlfriend, trying to end our date romantically, you know. And someone ruined the moment, by the way."
You felt your stomach tighten at the words "my girlfriend," but you didn't argue, realizing it was part of his plan. The police officer shone his flashlight in your direction, and you involuntarily pressed closer to Jungkook, trying to hide your trembling—from the cold, the adrenaline, and what he had just said to you.
"Is that your car over there, near the beach entrance?" asked the second police officer, pointing toward the promenade where the Mercedes was parked. Jungkook shook his head, maintaining his composure.
"No, officer, we came on foot. We wanted to swim, enjoy the night," he added with a slight note of irritation, sighing theatrically. You barely suppressed a smile, impressed by how naturally he played his role.
The police officers exchanged glances, clearly unsure of what to do.
"Do you have your documents?" one of them asked. Jungkook shrugged, his arms still wrapped around you, keeping you warm.
"We left them at home. We weren't planning getting caught in a police raid, just a little fun at the end of the evening," he replied, his voice so convincing that even you felt embarrassed by his words. The police officers seemed to feel just as awkward.
"So you didn't see who drove up in the Mercedes? Maybe you saw some people nearby?" asked the second cop, who had a rough voice. Jungkook shrugged, and that's when you decided to contribute to the big lie that Jongkook had so skillfully created.
"I just remembered that when we were approaching the water, I saw a guy running to the bar on the other side of the beach. I don't know if he was driving a Mercedes, but he was running so fast that it seemed strange to me," you lied, putting confidence in your voice.
Jungkook barely held back a smile when he heard your lie, his eyes flashing with mischievous pride, but he kept himself under control, maintaining an innocent expression. You felt his fingers squeeze your buttocks lightly, as if in approval. The police officers exchanged glances, clearly interested in your information.
"A bar, you say?" asked the one with the rough voice, turning his head toward the waterfront. "All right, we'll check it out. Don't stay here too long, they're predicting a storm warning in the morning," he added, and they took one last look at you before heading toward the bar, their flashlights swaying in the darkness.
When their silhouettes were still visible through the darkness, Jungkook chuckled softly, his chest vibrating beneath your palms.
"That's genius, baby," he said with obvious satisfaction in his voice, leaning closer to your ear. "Those two idiots will now be wandering around clubs looking for some imaginary guy. You gave us time to escape."
You smiled, feeling the adrenaline and his closeness making your heart beat faster.
"I had to look as convincing as possible," you replied, shrugging slightly. But you were still shivering from the cold, and Jungkook noticed.
"We have to wait until they're out of sight before we get dressed and run to the car," he said, his voice becoming more serious, but with the same mischievous sparkle in his eyes. "But, you know, for the sake of credibility, we should add a little more... because that skinny guy keeps turning his head to look at us..." He smiled slyly, and you felt the heat rush through your body again.
"It's important to be convincing to the end, right?" you replied, raising your eyebrow playfully, and before you could finish, Jungkook leaned over and kissed you. His lips were hot, so hungry that you felt a desire growing in your lower abdomen.
You responded with equal fervor, your hands sliding over his wet shoulders, squeezing them as if looking for support. His tongue explored your mouth, and you felt his body tense as he pressed even closer to you. You couldn't help but notice how obvious his arousal had become, his cock pressing firmly against you through the thin fabric of his boxers.
Jungkook broke away from the kiss, his breathing heavy, a smile playing on his lips.
"You're dangerous," he said hoarsely, his eyes shining in the moonlight. "My cock is too sensitive to your kisses."
You laughed, feeling the heat rush to your face, but his words only intensified the throbbing between your legs.
"Maybe you just lack self-control?" you joked, but your voice betrayed a slight tremor.
He smiled slyly, but his gaze became more serious.
"We'll deal with my self-control a little later. We have to go. If we want to escape, now is the best time."
You quickly climbed out of the water, and you felt his eyes slide over your body in black lingerie as you shook the sand off your clothes. But you didn't notice how intently he was looking at you. Jungkook was already imagining his hands removing your underwear, fulfilling what he had promised in the water. A plan was forming in his head, and he was determined to make this night even more unforgettable.
You quickly pulled on your clothes — your top and pants clung to your wet skin, and Jungkook, putting on his jeans and tank top, looked like the sexiest man in the world. Because of how he had ignited your desire in the water, your imagination was running wild. The anticipation that there would be more than just kissing between you tonight made you feel excited.
Jungkook retrieved the keys from the sand, and you ran to the car. Getting into the Mercedes, he instantly started the engine and sped away, leaving the parking lot at such a speed that you clung to the seat again. He raced through the night city, dodging cars, and you felt the excitement of escaping from the police mixed with another, more intimate feeling that was growing between you.
He sped along the dark roads, but this time the speed didn't scare you as much — you trusted his skill. After some time, he turned off the road onto a semi-wild beach where there was no one around. The car stopped on the shoulder, parked so as not to disturb others, although it was unlikely that anyone would come here at night. Jungkook turned off the headlights but left the engine running and turned to you, his eyes shining in the semi-darkness of the cabin, a sly smile playing on his lips.
"Now I'm curious, are you really as innocent as you seem at first glance? Not everyone can lie to the police so convincingly," he said, with a slight hoarseness in his voice.
You tilted your head and asked playfully,
"Do you want to find out?" you replied, raising an eyebrow and smiling as defiantly as he did. His eyes darkened, and you saw his jaw tense slightly, as if he were restraining himself from pouncing on you right then and there.
"I have a terrible desire to find out what you're really like," he said, leaning closer.
His hand slid down your thigh, and you felt your breathing become ragged. He kissed you again, slower this time, but with such intensity that you felt your whole body melt under his touch. His lips moved down to your neck, leaving wet, warm marks, and his hands slid under your top, touching your skin.
You didn't resist, giving in to the moment. Your hand slid over his chest, feeling the hard muscles beneath the thin fabric of the T-shirt he was wearing. You felt his body tense at your touch, and it only fueled your own desire. His fingers hooked the edge of your top, slowly pulling it up, followed by your bra, and you let him do it, feeling the cool air from the open window mix with the heat of his hands.
His hands slowly pulled your top off, exposing your breasts, and you felt his gaze devour every inch of your body. Jungkook leaned down and touched your nipple with his tongue, as if tasting it, and you involuntarily arched your back, feeling pleasure pierce through you. His lips caressed your breasts gently but confidently, while his fingers played with your other nipple, eliciting quiet moans that you couldn't hold back. The throbbing between your legs became unbearable, and you felt your underwear getting even wetter. Your aroused clitoris demanded attention, but you couldn't say anything.
As if sensing your thoughts, Jungkook slid his hand down to your pants. His lips captured yours in another insatiable kiss, and his hand slipped unhindered under the elastic waistband, deftly parting your folds. When Jungkook touched your clitoris, he broke away from your lips and breathed softly into your mouth. You were wet, so wet that he could feel your juices generously moistening his fingers.
"Is this all for me?" he asked, hinting at the amount of moisture you were producing. You don't know if anyone else has ever made you this wet, but the thought of sex with Jungkook made you almost leak.
Your hips began to move to meet his movements on your clitoris. His fingers moved slowly, teasing you, and you squeezed his shoulders, trying to hold back. He continued to explore you, and you felt yourself approaching the edge, your body tensing with pleasure.
Jungkook left your clitoris and slid two fingers into your passage while sliding his tongue into your mouth. You moaned, feeling the pressure on your walls, unaware of how tight your pussy was making Jungkook hungry for you.
"If my fingers are tight in this pussy, what will happen if I fill it with my cock?" Jungkook thought as he fucked you with his fingers. He knew it would be good inside you because you were clearly not the type of girl who had many partners, and you had to be tight, but how tight?
His fingers moved rhythmically, plunging deep into you, and his thumb returned to your clitoris from time to time, causing new waves of pleasure. Your body trembled, and you felt everything inside squeeze around his fingers, as if trying to absorb them even deeper.
You grabbed his hair, pulling gently, and it only seemed to fuel his desire. Jungkook raised his head, his eyes burning with a dark fire as he looked at you.
"You're so sensitive," he whispered, his voice thick with excitement, "I wonder what you sound like when you can't hold back anymore."
You were breathing fast and hard, unable to respond because of his actions. Jungkook suddenly pulled his fingers out of you, and you involuntarily gasped at the sudden emptiness. His hand reached for the buttons and your seat slid back, and in a moment the seat back reclined.
When the seat was fully reclined, Jungkook touched the waistband of your pants, pulled them down, and you reflexively lifted your hips so he could pull them off. You lay almost completely naked in front of him. Jungkook was still dressed, and that excited you. He touched the palm of his hand between your legs and leaned toward you. He kissed your lips briefly but eagerly, then whispered,
"I want to taste you, will you let me?"
Your heart beat even faster at his words, and you felt heat flood your body. His voice, low and saturated with desire, made your skin tingle. You couldn't find the words, just nodded, looking into his dark eyes, which seemed bottomless in the dim light of the car interior.
Jungkook smiled—a barely noticeable but sly smile that promised you this experience would be unforgettable. He slowly lowered himself. His hand grabbed you under the knee and lifted your leg onto his shoulder, spreading you wider.
You felt the cold air touch your bare skin, but that chill instantly melted away as his hot breath approached your crotch.
His tongue touched you—first gently, as if testing, then more confidently, sliding over your clitoris with such skill that you involuntarily arched your back. Your fingers found his hair and lost themselves in it, and a quiet moan escaped your lips. Jungkook seemed to sense your reaction, because his movements became more insistent, his tongue circling your sensitive spot, and then he sucked it lightly, making you shudder with pleasure.
"Fuck..." you cursed softly. You couldn't stop your legs from trembling as he continued to caress you, his hands holding your hips firmly, not allowing you to pull away. He seemed to enjoy your reaction, the moan you tried to stifle by biting your lip.
He lifted his head for a moment, his lips glistening with your moisture, his eyes shining with a wild mixture of triumph and desire.
"You taste better than I imagined," he said, and those words made your cheeks flush even more. Without giving you time to respond, he lowered himself again, this time adding his fingers, which entered you, continuing his rhythmic movements. His tongue and fingers worked in perfect harmony, bringing you to the brink.
Your body tensed, every muscle contracting in anticipation of the orgasm that was building at a frantic pace. You tried to grab onto something, your fingers sliding across the leather seat, but finding no support.
"Jungkook, I... I..." you whispered, but he only intensified his movements, as if knowing that you were already on the verge. When the wave of pleasure finally washed over you, a long, loud moan escaped your lips. Your body trembled, but Jungkook didn't stop, continuing to caress you until you began to shake from excessive sensitivity. Only then did he slowly pull away, his lips wet and his eyes burning with satisfaction.
He stood up, wiping his lips with the back of his hand, and leaned down to kiss you. You tasted yourself on his lips, and it only heightened your arousal, even though it seemed impossible.
"Damn, your moans are so sexy, I want to hear more," he said. You smiled at his compliment. "I want to fuck you," he declared.
You could still feel the waves of orgasm dissolving between your legs, but it didn't seem like enough. You wanted to feel him fill you up.
"Then what are you waiting for?" you asked confidently. Jungkook's eyes flashed with undisguised desire.
"You're so tight, baby, I'm afraid I'll hurt you," he admitted honestly. You raised your eyebrows, barely containing your insolence.
"Are you really that big that you think I won't be able to handle it? I've had sex before, with more than one person, and I managed somehow," you said a smile playing on your lips and your eyes flashing with playful confidence. You knew your words would hurt him, and that was exactly what you wanted — to test how far he would go.
Jungkook froze for a moment, his eyes darkening and his jaw tensing. His smile became dangerous, and you felt a slight chill run down your spine, mixed with anticipation.
"You definitely haven't had anyone like me, and you probably never will," he said, his voice low, almost threatening, but at the same time soaked in such desire that your heart skipped a beat.
"So do you really think that, or are you just trying to up your value?" you asked sarcastically, raising the tension between you. Jungkook chuckled quietly.
"Oh, baby, you just made a big mistake," he leaned closer, his lips so close to your ear that you could feel the warmth of his breath. "You think you can challenge me and get away with it?" he whispered, his voice velvety. "I'll make you regret those words, and believe me, you not just can’t endure it — you'll beg me to stop... and I won't until you come around my cock."
You felt your body react to his words, the throbbing between your legs returning even though you tried to hide how much he turned you on. But Jungkook seemed to see right through you. His hand slowly slid down your waist and then squeezed your thigh tightly, making you flinch slightly.
"So far, all I hear is talk… But if you do, I'll try not to beg you," you said, letting Jungkook know that you were a worthy opponent. He smiled slightly and finally moved away from you.
Jungkook leaned back, his hands reaching for the belt of his jeans. You saw his muscles tense as he unbuttoned jeans, and your gaze involuntarily slid to the outline of his arousal, which the fabric could no longer hide.
"Get a condom from the glove compartment," he asked, pulling down his jeans. You sat up straight, then leaned over to the glove compartment. Inside was a small leather folder with a Mercedes logo, obviously a car manual, and a new, sealed pack of condoms. For a moment, the thought flashed through your mind about how often he had sex with other girls here. And you tried to quickly dismiss these thoughts, feeling a pang of jealousy.
You took one condom out of a small black and purple box labeled "ultra thin" and handed it to him. Jungkook cut the foil and stretched it along its entire length with a few deft movements.
When you saw Jungkook's size, you could barely control the expression on your face. It was big. Without exaggeration, it was big, and you already regretted teasing him. You knew it would hurt when he entered you, but would his size bring you pleasure, or would it be nothing but discomfort? You didn't know because you had never had one that big before.
Jungkook turned to you, his hand easily cupping your chin, forcing you to look straight into his eyes.
"Well, let's see if you can handle me."
He climbed on top of you, resting his feet on either side of your hips. One of your legs ended up on his shoulder, and the other touched the dashboard. You couldn't take your eyes off his hard cock, and that only intensified the throbbing between your legs. He hung over you, and you felt his gaze piercing through you. Excitement and fear mixed into one continuous sensation.
The tip of his cock touched your entrance. You held your breath as he began to enter. You took him in a few inches, your wetness, which was abundant again, facilitating penetration, but when the head of his cock reached the place where the membrane had once been, you recoiled, feeling a sudden pain.
Jungkook stopped when you screamed. Your hands squeezed his biceps. He waited no more than a few seconds and pressed into your passage. You screamed again, but this time biting your lip. You closed your eyes and your nails dug into his skin with barely noticeable pain.
"Open your eyes," you heard his low voice as he continued to sink into you. You opened your eyes, but your face was contorted with pain. "You said you could handle it... I want to see your eyes when you take me all the way in."
His words, tinged with confidence and a slight mockery, made your heart beat wildly, but the pain that accompanied his slow penetration overshadowed everything.
You clenched your teeth, trying to hold back a moan that was more from discomfort than pleasure. Jungkook saw it, his eyes watching closely for the change in your face, but he didn't stop, moving slowly but inexorably.
"Come on, show me how strong you are," he whispered, his voice low and hoarse, but with an iron confidence in it. His hand slid gently across your cheek, contrasting with the insistence of his movements below. You could feel him filling you, and although the pain gradually mixed with the warmth growing in your lower abdomen, you still struggled with the feeling that he was too big for you.
Your nails dug into his skin harder, leaving red marks, but Jungkook seemed to only enjoy it. He leaned closer, his lips touching your ear:
"You regret it, don't you? But I haven't even begun to prove to you how wrong you were."
He paused for a moment, allowing you to get used to the sensation, and you felt your body slowly relax, adapting to him. Your wetness made the movement easier, and the pain began to recede, giving way to a new wave of warmth. Jungkook noticed the change in your breathing, the slight tremor in your hips, and his smile widened.
"There," he said, moving forward slowly, "are you starting to feel me?" His hand slid to your clitoris, and his fingers began to caress it gently but confidently, adding sweet pleasure to the pain. You moaned involuntarily, this time with pleasure, and your hips instinctively moved to meet his movements.
Jungkook began to move more rhythmically, his thrusts deep but controlled. Each of his movements made your body tremble, and you felt the pain finally dissolve, giving way to wild pleasure. His fingers on your clitoris did not stop, and his lips found yours, capturing them in a greedy kiss that drowned out your moans.
It was pure ecstasy. The pleasure grew alongside some wild sensation. You felt he so deeply inside you that it began to seem too much. You tried to keep your promise not to beg him, but it was almost impossible. The deeper and more intensely Jungkook fucked you, the more you couldn't handle it.
"Jungkook..." you whispered, but he didn't seem to hear you. Jungkook kissed your neck, sucking on your skin, and you felt a slight tingling sensation where his lips had just been. "Jungkook... it's too much..." you whispered again, feeling your body approaching another orgasm faster than you could imagine. "Please... stop..." Your voice faltered, but you weren't sure if you really wanted him to stop. The pleasure became so intense that it seemed almost unbearable.
Instead of answering, you felt his lips on yours, his tongue slipping into your mouth, intertwining with yours. He broke away from your lips, his eyes shining with triumph.
"Stop? Oh, someone who said they wouldn't beg seems is begging," his voice was mocking and low. His breathing was a little uneven as he continued to fuck you. "You're not getting that, baby. I said I'd stop only when you came for me. And believe me, it will be the best you've ever felt."
His words only added fuel to the fire, and you felt your body betrayally respond to him. Jungkook picked up the pace, his movements becoming more insistent, his fingers working faster on your clit, bringing you to the edge. His large cock seemed to tear you apart from the inside.
"Jungkook, I can't... please..." you begged, your eyes clouded with tears of pleasure, but he only leaned closer, his lips touching your ear.
"You can, and you'll do it for me," he whispered, his voice full of authority. "Come on, beautiful, cum for me. Show me how much you can take."
Those words were the final push. Your body arched as the orgasm washed over you with such force that you cried out, unable to hold back. It was unlike anything you had ever felt before—powerful, all-consuming, as if every cell in your body exploded with pleasure. Your walls tightened around him, and Jungkook groaned as he felt you pulsing. His movements became more urgent as he approached his own peak, but he didn't stop, continuing to thrust you through your orgasm, making your body tremble with hypersensitivity.
"Yeahh," he rasped, his voice trembling with tension. His own orgasm overwhelmed him a few seconds later, and he thrust one last time, his body tensing as he came inside the condom.
Jungkook collapsed on top of you, his breathing heavy, his forehead touching yours. You were still trembling, trying to catch your breath, feeling the afterglow of orgasm spread through your body. He lifted his head, his eyes now softer but still burning with satisfaction.
"Are you still going to say you handled me?" he asked with a sly smile, wiping the sweat from your forehead. "Do you admit I was right?"
You smiled weakly.
"You... you won," you whispered, and his laughter, low and satisfied, filled the car. Jungkook kissed your lips one last time, gently and with great pleasure. He climbed off you and sat in the driver's seat.
The car was stuffy and smelled of sex mixed with Jungkook's perfume. You got dressed at your own pace, and then Jungkook got out of the car to relieve himself and throw away the used condom.
When he returned to the car, he started the engine and turned back onto the highway leading to Busan. You were silent for a few minutes while you checked your phone, which was overflowing with messages from Hannah. She was worried whether you and Jungkook had managed to get away from the cops. You wrote to her that everything was fine and locked your phone.
You looked up at the road and only then realized that Jungkook was driving somewhere with purpose.
"Where are we going?" you asked, turning to him. He glanced at you lazily, stretching his lips into a slight smile.
"To my friend's repair shop," he replied. You raised your eyebrows, wondering why you needed to go there. It was almost 5 a.m., and you felt the fatigue and sleepless night taking their toll.
"Why are we going to your friend's place? Is something wrong with the car?" you asked.
"No, the car is fine. My friend is going to replace my license plates because these are definitely in the police registry. And I still need my bird," Jungkook replied.
You tilted your head, thinking about his words, and suddenly a thought flashed through your mind.
"Wait, is it even legal to change license plates like that?" you asked, frowning slightly. You knew that license plates were issued by a special agency when a vehicle was registered, and something about this situation seemed wrong to you. Your curiosity mixed with slight concern, and you looked intently at Jungkook, waiting for his reaction.
He glanced at you quickly, then his lips stretched into a wider, almost cheeky smile.
"You're right, baby, it's not exactly legal," he admitted, his voice calm but with a hint of defiance. "But I have no other choice. If I keep these plates, at best I'll lose my license for participating in illegal races. And in the worst case," Jungkook shrugged, but his eyes remained serious. "They'll take my car away and slap me with a 7 million won fine. And I'm not ready to part with my baby bird."
You remained silent, not knowing how to respond to his candor. His words sounded so matter-of-fact, as if breaking the law was a common occurrence for him. Thoughts swirled in your head: Who was he really? And what had you gotten yourself into by getting into this car? But at the same time, you couldn't deny that the adrenaline and danger that accompanied Jungkook only drew you to him more.
He noticed your thoughtfulness and, holding the steering wheel with one hand, leaned closer to you.
"Don't worry," he said softly, but with a note of confidence. "We'll sort everything out quickly, and I'll take you home, I promise." His voice was reassuring, but you still felt a slight uneasiness.
You nodded in agreement, and silence fell over the car. You leaned back in your seat, feeling waves of exhaustion wash over you. It was five in the morning, you had been up all night, the adrenaline from everything that had happened and the intense orgasm Jungkook had given you were all mixed together, making your thoughts chaotic.
Jungkook suddenly reached for the center console where his phone was lying and picked it up. He turned on the screen and handed you the device.
"Write down your number," he said, "I don't want to repeat my past mistake and lose you again."
You took the phone, feeling your fingers tremble slightly — either from fatigue or from his words. After entering your number, you handed the phone back to him, and your fingers touched lightly, sending another wave of goosebumps down your skin.
You couldn't help but wonder what would happen next. What kind of relationship was this? A one-time fling or something more? His words about "past mistake" buzzed in your head, but you didn't dare ask what he meant.
Jungkook put his phone back and focused on the road.
"You're afraid of all this, aren't you?" he broke the silence, without taking his eyes off the road. "I mean, all this... illegal stuff."
"I just... don't know what to think about it. It's all a bit... unexpected," you sighed, trying to sound more confident than you felt.
Jungkook laughed, and for some reason, the sound calmed your nerves.
"You'll have to get used to it. It's never boring with me."
You rolled your eyes, but couldn't help smiling.
"I already figured that out," you said. Jungkook was mysterious with a forbidden vibe, but for some reason, despite all the warning signs, you felt like you wanted to get to know him better.
When you finally pulled up to the service station, the sky was already beginning to lighten. Jungkook turned off the engine and turned to you.
"Wait here, I'll be quick."
You nodded, leaning back in your seat, and watched him disappear into the building. Your head was filled with thoughts about him, about this crazy night. But one thing you knew for sure: with Jungkook, your life would definitely not be the same as before.
✍🏻 AUTHOR NOTE:
Hey, my dear army 💜 I wrote something for you here, and the time I'm posting this one-time shot is September 1 🤭 (actually, it's still August 31 in my country, but in Korea it's already September 1).
This is the day when the love of my life came into the world.
I diligently wrote (as best I could, but never finished) chapter 20 of "One Night..." but I thought I should give you something with Chonguk on his birthday 🙏🏻🤭
So I wrote this! The idea for this fanfic had been in my head for a long time, but only now have I been able to write it the way I wanted it to be written 💞 I really hope you like my gift to you on his birthday 🥰
I truly love this man and wish him the greatest happiness on this planet that a person can have. He deserves the whole world for the simple reason that he is an amazing person who combines many wonderful qualities that make him the ideal man in my eyes.
Jungkook is truly "golden" because everything he touches turns to gold or something that people adore. I wish him that the heavy burden of his fame becomes light for him, that no evil touches him, neither physically nor morally.
He changed my life, my attitude towards myself, my perception of the people around me. Thanks to him, this blog has become successful, because if it weren't for him, I might never have started writing. Thanks to him, I met so many wonderful people who gave me so much love that I never even suspected it could exist in such a form. He really made my life golden 💛
So, HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE GREATEST LOVE OF MY LIFE!
