hey cuties! ♡
this month’s reads might be just a little… hot! the result? a list full of smuts that are the smuttiest I’ve ever read.
special shoutout to Help Wanted because, man, I am literally obsessed and I’ve never read something so eagerly, it's just captivating and amazing!
pls reblog if you like any of my recommendations, and don’t forget to share lots of love and support for the incredible authors who write them.
i hope you guys enjoy them and love reading them as much as I did!
!! cover heavily inspired by @ dododesjgns on insta!
help wanted by @merakoo — series, ongoing
summary: In order to make ends meet you pick up a side job as the nanny of a brooding, cold perfectionist by the name of Jeon Jungkook — while in the process of doing so, you might've ended up twisting the narrative about your education just a little. Watching over a few children couldn't be too hard, right? Only Jungkook is very peculiar about how he wants things done — strict routines, meal plans and tedious study hours that make the Jeon estate feel more like a military camp than a home — and it's only a matter of time until cracks in the seemingly perfect facade begin to form.
tags: dilf!jungkook, single dad jungkook, nanny!reader, 1980s au, slowburn fluff angst explicit content, age gap (jungkook is 30, reader is 20), jungook keeps secrets & so does reader
2. girls on film by @merakoo
summary: In order to spice up your sex life — your boyfriend proposes making a sextape.
tags: no plot, just pure filth dom!jk, camera usage during sex, spanking, multiple positions (doggy style + missionary) unprotected sex + pullout cumming on stomach pet names (angel, love) dirty talk
3. feelings aside by @merakoo (again??)
summary: Jungkook had always been just sex to you and you had always been just sex to him. At least that's what you had believed. But when the line between you goes dry and your dating life takes off — you find him on your doorstep, and for once, it's not about sex.
tags: friends with benefits pining jealous!jungkook, kissing, mentions of past hookups ft. jimin yearner!jungkook oblivious reader possessive!jungkook suggestive content
4. stretch you out by @chateautae — obs. Namjoon is a bonus here (omg love it)
summary: you have a plan for your crappy, diabolical ex who’s set on ruining your life; making him jealous by snagging a raunchy photo with two hot employees at the gym. what you didn’t have a plan for? befriending the mischievous pair to aid in your revenge and ending up underneath not just one, but both of them.
tags: college!au, strangers to friends to lovers!au, porn but with plot :), the dIRTIEst smut, fluff, heavy making out, explicit sexual content, threesome
5. sinners by @wintrbears
summary: based on the concept from the movie “Sinners,” music has the ability to shred the barrier between planes of existence and draw creatures of the underworld to the land of the living, and Jungkook’s heavenly voice ends up bringing hell right to his doorstep.
tags: fantasy in the modern world!au, strangers to lovers, angst, smut, demons, religious lore, mention of death, life-altering decisions
6. deal by @jeonstudios
summary: what do you do when your teenage brother’s cancer is too far gone? well, you summon a cocky crossroad demon to make a deal; your life for taehyung’s.
tags: angst, smut, fluff, panic attack, penetrative sex, blood, mentions of killing, branding skin, wounds by arrow
7. best mistake by @lovieku
summary: you've tried, but you can't help yourself from crushing on your best friend's dad. hot, buff, tatted up and successful, mr. jeon is the starring actor in all of your wettest dreams. and as you wake up from one while sleeping over at his house after his daughter's birthday party, you don't expect all of them to suddenly come true. but they do.
tags: dilf!jk x inexperienced!fem reader, smut, angst, voyeurism
8. acts of service by @jiminsafairy
summary: using a tiktok trend to try to relieve your pregnancy back pain was supposed to be a sweet, innocent, wholesome moment. Jungkook certainly didn't plan on it turning into a messy fuck in the middle of the living room
tags: husband! jungkook x pregnantwife!reader, smut, fluff, pregnant sex, lactation kink
9. still don’t know my name by @dollfaceksj
summary: in which your annoying neighbor—that you can’t stand—turns out to be the person behind the online account you’ve been sexting. You still don’t know his name.
tags: smut, enemies, sexting, hard kinks (slapping, spitting, hairpulling, choking)
as your boyfriend hungrily makes the most passionate love to you, you soon come to the realisation that it's his trouble-making twin brother instead – the 'bad boy' who intrigues you more than anything, the one who often corrupts your thoughts – the man who secretly obsesses over you.
genre – secret pining au, angst, fluff, smut.
pairing – bf's twin brother jungkook x fem reader.
warnings – oc's boyfriend is a dick, cheating, jk is secretly obsessed with oc and a little pervy, explicit language, mentions of intimacy between oc and her boyfriend, a lot of smut between oc and jk (will add specific details in the chapter)
note – had 1k words of this in my drafts for over a year, but after reading and OBSESSING over @wintrbears The wife Trap, I've been extremely motivated finish it up hehe. (thank you for beautiful story and some inspiration, queen!!!)
lmk if anyone wants to be tagged. will post this lil oneshot next month!!
I wasn’t going to say anything, but some of the youngest are getting on my nerves recently, as I was reading some notes.
It has come to my attention (reading comments from the AO3 community) that some people think the use of “—” (the dash) is a "sign" of stories created by ChatGPT.
First of all, that is fucking stupid, it is a punctuation I see in almost every english book I have, like? Writers from different languagues use the dash almost as much as us, Brazilians like to use “()” [parenthesis] and commas. Secondly, I, like many who read books in other languagues besides north american English, don't need to use that crap to tell us how to use punctuation — although, recently, I've read some other romance books I found in English, and many of them used this punctuation because it's nicely dramatic and useful for avoiding repeating commas and putting multiple things in parentheses.
My master's advisor has been forcing me to use it a lot more for articles, and she made a very good point. According to her, proficient writers use a lot of dashes because it changes the meaning, it's like moving the words to have the height you want (“ stop using so many commas, use the dash and cut some points”, is what she's always saying, she tells that to my face too, the nerve… But, she is older, smarter and has been in the field longer than I exist, so I just listen to her).
Anyway, I write now mostly to practice my English, which explains the typos and even grammar mistakes you might find. I write in the early hours, post it, and only reread it once, lol, I'm lazy af. So, the plot errors, the dialogues, and the long descriptions of settings that look like a novel by Eça de Queirós are all mine. I'm heavily influenced by the Brazilian authors I read; anyone who knows them should notice. Unfortunately, this makes translating some of the allusions I make difficult, but again, that's all on me. Besides, there are so many more synonyms in Portuguese than in English. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to write translating from your head and realizing you've repeated the same word multiple times because there are so few in the language you're writing in? I can understand why Shakespeare invented so many more.
There's also the pure and simple personal taste of the author. There are certain authors you can identify by how they like to write. Some focus on dialogues, others love describing settings in detail, and some prefer one type of punctuation over another. Furthermore, most people who starts writing fanfiction are young, in or just out of high school, and are still creating their own writing style, which will certainly change as they write more.
Most of all, I don't believe in asking AI to write a story for me to post. If I don't even spend 5 minutes writing it, why should you spend time reading it?
I don't believe in art created by IA; I don't get into trends of transforming photos; I abhor those who go to “IA chat therapy”, and those who ask their bots to write their emails and reply to their friends' messages.
In short, that's why I say I don't care who points out English errors, because I genuinely don't give a damn about mistakes. My errors are proof that I took the time out of my life to type, because I enjoy writing something that isn't scientific theses. I've been a fanfic writer since 2009, when I started on Nyah (a Brazilian website), and I persisted on AO3, where I learned to write in English just to keep creating oneshots.
I took my time to learn how to create, and that is the proof that I exist beyond my boring desk work.
But many of the youngs don't know much about construction in text, and it shows.
Death is certain, my dears, so enjoy your human brief life all the way you can. Make mistakes, write bad fiction, and try to speak from your honest loss of words to the people you care about.
Synopsis: In a stylized European city during the early 20th century, you, a cheerful young woman living with a severe heart condition runs away from your controlling mother in search of freedom and a life you can truly call your own. Determined not to let your fragile heart define you, you begins navigating the city alone—until you cross paths with a quiet, stoic police officer named Jungkook. Though reserved and difficult to read, Jungkook reveals his affection through gentle gestures, unwavering patience, and a deep attentiveness toward your condition. As the two of you slowly grow closer through quiet moments and everyday life, your relationship blossoms into a soft, intimate romance filled with devotion, longing, and the aching beauty of loving someone fragile in a world that feels equally delicate.
Genre: Romance, Slice of life, Agnst, Fluff, Strangers to lovers.
Word Count: 5.1k
Now Playing: Black Water Lilies - Aurora..
Warnings: setting is based off a strong 1920s to 1950s high-fashion vibe, with elegant vintage clothing, old-world cobblestone streets, and a classic, atmosphere reminiscent of mid-century European cinema, Mature language, Jungkook and Reader are both in their twenties, Reader has a servere heart condition (they have a hole a the center of their heart), Jungkook is an entire green forest in here, Drinking & Smoking, Slow Burn, Jungkook and Reader actually communicate with each other (but there’s still arguments), even though this is a slow burn they are pretty much two people who do not explicitly use labels, relying instead on subtle, unspoken acts of love to show their intimacy, Thriller, Crime solving (somehow), Pure Fluff, Drama, Jungkook is DEVOTED to you, Jungkook is literally HUSBAND MATERIAL, Eventual smut, Jungkook is a soft Dom, oral sex, Praise & size kink, Emotional sex, Humor, Author decided to not be sleep deprived (yay!), Poetry still has me on a leash, Jungkook is a fashion EXPERT, Reader is a SASSY BRAT despite her bubbly personality, Jungkook is a certified brat tamer, author LOVES the weeknd & lana del rey.
Author’s Note: This was heavily inspired by the manga named ‘Veil’ literally—go read it if you haven’t. Also ignore the fact that i misspelled my own username LMAOOO.
Chapter One: Far From Home.
Once upon a time, there lived two people selfish enough to fall in love with each other.
Not the soft kind of love spoken about in fairytales or tucked inside romance novels left abandoned on library shelves. Their love had been desperate. Reckless. Wild enough to destroy reputations and careful enough to survive poverty hand in hand.
Your father used to joke that your mother looked far too elegant to be sleeping on train benches beside him while they traveled from city to city searching for work. And your mother, younger then and brighter around the edges, would only laugh before resting her head against his shoulder and saying:
“Then earn enough money so I don’t have to anymore.”
And he did. Oh, he did.
Years of endless labor turned your father into a successful businessman with tired eyes and expensive suits. The tiny apartment they once shared eventually became a luxurious estate hidden away near endless green fields and iron gates kissed by ivy vines. Your mother traded old cotton dresses for silk and pearls. Your father bought her a cream-colored automobile just because she once stared at it too long through a shop window.
And despite all the wealth surrounding them—
They still looked at each other like starving people finally fed. Then came you. You were born during spring.
The nurses remembered it clearly because rain had battered against the hospital windows while your mother screamed through labor with your father trembling beside her, gripping her hand so tightly his knuckles turned white.
“She’s beautiful,” one nurse whispered the moment they placed you into your mother’s arms.
And you truly were. Tiny fingers. Curled lashes. Soft cries. A perfect child.
Until the doctor entered the room afterward with a look that permanently altered the course of your family forever.
Your father noticed immediately. Your mother did too. The doctor sat down quietly beside the hospital bed while carefully removing his glasses.
“There appears to be a problem with the baby’s heart.”
Your mother stopped breathing. Your father’s hand immediately tightened around hers “Atrial Septal Defect,” the doctor explained gently. “There is a hole between the upper chambers of her heart.”
Silence followed. Heavy silence. The kind that settled inside bones permanently. “Can you fix it?” your father asked immediately.
The doctor hesitated. Your mother began crying before he could even answer. From that moment onward, love became fear inside your household. Not hatred. Never hatred. Fear.
Your mother watched over you obsessively from the moment you learned how to walk. Servants followed you through gardens to ensure you did not run too hard. Doctors visited frequently enough for their faces to become familiar. Medicine bottles cluttered shelves beside your bed like decorations nobody wanted.
But even then—You refused to behave delicately. At five years old, you climbed trees while your mother shrieked from below.
At eight, you ran through rainstorms until your father carried you inside wrapped in his coat while laughing breathlessly.
At thirteen, you nearly fainted after dancing too long during a party and still smiled through the dizziness afterward. “You are impossible,” your mother once sighed while brushing your curls carefully before bed.
You grinned through the mirror. “But lovable.”Your mother’s expression softened instantly.
Painfully. “You look exactly like him,” she whispered quietly.
Your father adored you. Sometimes you believed he adored you too much.
He bought you books constantly because you loved stories. Jewelry because you admired shiny things. Dresses because you spent hours spinning in front of mirrors pretending you were actresses from old films.
“You spoil her,” your mother would complain.
“She deserves it,” your father always replied. And perhaps that was the problem. Because after your father died—
Everything beautiful inside your home began rotting slowly. The funeral had been elegant. Expensive flowers. Black umbrellas. Whispered condolences.
You remembered standing beside your mother dressed in black lace while feeling entirely disconnected from your own body. Your chest hurt horribly that day—not emotionally, but physically. As though your heart itself understood something devastating had happened.
Your mother never truly recovered afterward. At first, her grief looked normal. She cried often.
Stopped sleeping properly. Spent long hours staring at your father’s old belongings in silence. Then gradually—Her grief transformed into obsession.
You became all she had left. And she clung onto you so tightly it became difficult to breathe.
“You’re coughing too much today.”
“Sit down immediately.”
“No more evening walks.”
“You look pale.”
“Take your medicine.”
“Don’t argue with me.”
“Stop laughing so hard.”
“Enough.”
Enough. Enough. Enough.
Every aspect of your life slowly slipped from your control and into hers. The servants noticed it. The doctors noticed it. Even you noticed yourself becoming smaller inside the walls of your own home.
And still—You loved her. That was the cruelest part. You loved her despite the suffocation. Loved her despite the fear. Loved her despite the loneliness growing between you both like thorns crawling through old walls.
Until one evening she calmly informed you over dinner that a man wished to marry you.
The memory still made your stomach twist.
The dining room glowed warmly from chandelier light while untouched food rested neatly across polished plates.
“He comes from a respectable family,” your mother explained while cutting into her meal gracefully. “Financially secure. Well mannered.”
You stared at her blankly. “…What?”
“He has expressed interest in meeting you properly.”
Your pulse immediately quickened. “Mother,” you laughed nervously, thinking she must be joking. “I’m not marrying a stranger.”
Her fork clinked softly against porcelain. “You will eventually need someone capable of caring for you.”
“I can care for myself.”
“No,” she replied sharply enough to make you flinch, “you cannot.”
Silence filled the room. Your chest tightened painfully. Your mother finally looked up at you then. And for the first time—you realized she truly believed you incapable of surviving without someone controlling your life.
“You are sick, Y/n,” she whispered tiredly. “You have always been sick.”
Something inside you broke quietly at those words. Not loudly. Not dramatically. Just softly enough to hurt forever.
Because your entire life, you had spent fighting to prove that your condition was merely a part of you—not your entire existence.
Yet to your mother—It had become the only thing she saw anymore. That night you cried alone inside your bedroom.
Not because you hated her. But because you missed her.
You missed the version of your mother who used to dance with you in kitchens and kiss your forehead after nightmares. The woman who once loved you gently instead of fearfully.
By the time moonlight spilled across your bedroom floor hours later—Your decision had already been made. The room felt hauntingly beautiful in the dead of night.
Your expensive dresses hung neatly inside wardrobes you would never open again. Jewelry boxes glimmered softly beneath silver light. Family portraits watched silently from walls. You stood near your bed wearing a dark elegant coat over your clothes, your suitcase resting patiently beside your legs.
Your hands trembled slightly. Not from weakness. From grief. You slowly approached the glass door leading outside before pausing entirely.
The house remained silent. No footsteps. No voices. Only the distant ticking of clocks echoing through endless hallways.
Your throat tightened painfully. You turned around one final time to look at your bedroom.
At your home. At the life you were abandoning behind. And suddenly memories flooded you violently. Your father reading beside the fireplace.
Your mother helping you lace dresses. Birthday candles. Christmas mornings. Laughter. Love.
Home.
A shaky breath escaped your lips. “I’m sorry,” you whispered softly into the empty room.
Whether you were apologizing to your mother, your father, or yourself—You didn’t know.
Then finally—You opened the door. Cold wind immediately brushed against your face like freedom itself.
The fields stretched endlessly beneath the moonlight, silver grass swaying softly while flowers bent beneath the breeze.
For one terrifying second—You nearly stayed. Nearly turned back. Nearly convinced yourself this was a mistake. But then you remembered your mother’s voice.
“You are sick.”
And suddenly your chest burned with determination. No. You refused to spend your life trapped inside somebody else’s fear. So gripping your suitcase tightly, you stepped into the grass.
Then another step. Then another. Before panic suddenly surged through your veins all at once. And you ran. You ran across moonlit fields in expensive heels and trembling breaths, your heart pounding violently against your ribs while cold air clawed at your lungs.
You did not look back. Not once. Because deep down—you already knew if you saw that house again.
You might never find the courage to leave it at all.
Three months later, the city breathed on without you.
Morning rain had long since passed, leaving the cobblestone streets damp and glimmering beneath the pale afternoon sun. Cars rolled through narrow roads in elegant lines while bicycles passed by storefronts decorated with fresh flowers and striped awnings. The air smelled faintly of wet pavement, expensive perfume, roasted coffee beans, and cigarette smoke curling lazily from open café windows.
The city itself felt alive. Busy. Unbothered.
And somewhere within the middle of it all sat a man entirely detached from the noise surrounding him.
Inside a small café tucked between a bookstore and tailor shop, Jungkook rested silently against a velvet booth seat with all the composure of someone carved from marble rather than flesh.
Everything about him looked painfully put together.
Dark uniform freshly pressed. Black gloves fitted perfectly around large hands. Silver buttons on his black coat gleaming faintly beneath warm café lighting. Even the dark strands of hair falling near his eyes somehow appeared deliberate despite clearly not being so.
Women glanced toward him often. Some subtly. Others shamelessly. Jungkook ignored every single one of them.
His attention remained fixed outside the café window while steam slowly curled from the untouched coffee resting near his hand.
Across from him sat Jaewon. Unfortunately.“And then,” Jaewon continued dramatically with wide gestures, “the man started CRYING, Jungkook. Crying. Over a goose.”
Jungkook remained staring outside.
A couple crossed the street holding hands beneath one umbrella. A little girl chased pigeons near the fountain nearby. Somewhere in the distance, music drifted softly from an open record shop.
Peaceful. Jaewon narrowed his eyes. “You aren’t listening to me.”
“I am.”
“No, you’re pretending to.”
Jungkook sighed quietly before finally dragging his gaze away from the window. “The goose belonged to his ex-wife,” he replied flatly.
Jaewon blinked once. “…Okay, maybe you were listening.”
Jungkook hummed lowly before lifting his coffee toward his lips. His voice was deep even when speaking lazily. Smooth. Controlled.
The kind of voice that naturally commanded attention without effort.
Jaewon sometimes found it irritating how effortlessly attractive the man sitting across from him actually was. Jungkook never tried. Never flirted. Never entertained people for longer than necessary.
And somehow that only made others more interested. “You know what your problem is?” Jaewon suddenly asked.
Jungkook took another sip. “I don’t care enough to ask., but please—enlighten me.”
“You have absolutely no interest in human interaction.”
“That’s not true.”
“You stared at a wall for twenty minutes yesterday.”
“It was peaceful.”
Jaewon groaned dramatically before leaning back in his chair. Jungkook, however, merely looked back out the window again.
He preferred observing people from a distance rather than speaking with them directly. Observing required no emotional effort. No unnecessary explanations. No obligations.
People were simple when watched quietly. Some rushed too much. Some talked too loudly. Some loved too carelessly. And some—
Looked lonely even surrounded by crowds. Jungkook noticed things most people didn’t. Small details. Shaking hands. Forced smiles.
Uneven breathing. Tired eyes hidden behind expensive clothing. Perhaps that was why he excelled at his work. Or perhaps he simply spent too much time studying people instead of allowing himself to become one of them.
“You seriously need a woman,” Jaewon sighed.
Jungkook nearly looked offended. “No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“You’re twenty-five.”
“And?”
“And work constantly. You barely sleep. Your apartment probably looks depressing.”
Jungkook stared at him blankly. “It does look depressing, doesn’t it?”
“I have a pet bunnie.”
Jaewon blinked. “Only one?”
“I don’t need more.”
“Jesus Christ.”
A quiet chuckle nearly threatened to escape Jungkook at Jaewon’s horrified expression, but it disappeared before fully forming.
Instead, he reached inside his coat pocket before pulling out a cigarette pack slowly.
The movement alone earned several glances from nearby women. Jaewon noticed immediately. “You know,” he muttered bitterly, “life must be easy when you look like that.”
Jungkook lazily slid one cigarette between his fingers. “Like what?”
Jaewon looked genuinely offended. “You can’t be serious.”
Jungkook merely tilted his head slightly.
Unfortunately for Jaewon, the man truly did not seem aware of how attractive he actually was. There was something frustratingly natural about him.
The broad shoulders. The calm demeanor. The deep voice. And even the tattoos that Jungkook tries—or not to hide. The stoic eyes that softened only slightly whenever he listened carefully.
And worst of all—His gentleness.
Jungkook carried himself carefully around people, especially women, despite appearing cold at first glance. He opened doors instinctively. Walked slower when accompanying elderly citizens. Removed his gloves before helping children tie loose shoelaces.
He treated softness like something sacred. Which made him infinitely more dangerous. Jaewon sighed dramatically before suddenly remembering something. “Oh right.”
Jungkook glanced up lazily.
“We got another missing person report today.”
“Mm.”
“This one’s interesting though.”
Jungkook looked uninterested already. Jaewon reached into his coat pocket before pulling out a folded paper. “The entire station practically had to deal with this woman crying for hours.”
Jungkook’s brows furrowed faintly.
“She’s wealthy,” Jaewon explained while sliding the paper across the table. “Upper-class family. Apparently the daughter vanished three months ago.”
Three months. Jungkook finally reached for the paper. His gloved fingers unfolded it carefully. And then—He saw you.
The café noise faded strangely afterward. Not entirely. But enough. You looked beautiful in an effortless way that almost annoyed him immediately. Not polished beauty. Not artificial beauty. Something softer. More alive.
Your curled hair framed your face while light reflected gently against your earrings. Your patterned blouse looked elegant yet playful at the same time. And your expression—God.
Your smile looked warm enough to melt winter itself. Jaewon leaned forward slightly. “Pretty, right?”
Jungkook stayed silent longer than necessary. Then finally—“Yes.”
The answer came calm. Respectful. Yet strangely honest. Because denying it would’ve been pointless. You were beautiful. Painfully so.
His eyes lowered toward the information written beneath your photograph.
Y/n L/n.
Age twenty-three.
Missing for three months.
Known medical condition.
Jungkook’s eyes paused there. Medical condition. “Atrial Septal Defect,” Jaewon read aloud while peeking over the table. “Apparently she has some severe heart problem.”
Jungkook’s gaze flickered back toward your picture. A strange feeling settled quietly inside his chest. You did not look fragile. You looked—
Bright. Like someone too stubborn to sit still even when told to.
“What happened?” Jungkook asked quietly.
Jaewon shrugged. “Mother claims the daughter disappeared overnight. No note. No explanation.”
“That’s unusual.”
“Not really,” Jaewon snorted. “Rich families are always insane.”
Jungkook hummed quietly. Still staring. Your eyes bothered him most. Not negatively. Just—Curiously.
They held something difficult to explain. Like hidden rebellion beneath elegance. Like someone smiling while standing dangerously close to collapse.
“You think she’s dead?” Jaewon suddenly asked.
Jungkook immediately shook his head once.“No.” The certainty in his answer surprised even himself slightly.
Jaewon raised an eyebrow. “How do you know?”
Jungkook folded the paper neatly again before slipping it onto the table. “She left willingly.”
Jaewon blinked. “You got all that from one picture?”
Jungkook leaned back against the booth calmly. “She doesn’t look frightened.” He glanced toward the window again afterward. Outside, people continued moving through the city without pause.
Cars. Laughter. Rainwater. Life. Somewhere within all of it—You existed too. Breathing the same air. Walking the same streets. Living some unknown life hidden beneath an entirely different sky than the one you grew up under.
Strangely enough—Jungkook found himself wondering what kind of woman would abandon luxury for disappearance. And why.
Jaewon eventually continued rambling afterward about work, paperwork, and his constantly arguing girlfriend, but Jungkook barely listened anymore.
Because despite never meeting you—Your face lingered quietly inside his mind long after the conversation should have ended.
Like cigarette smoke refusing to disappear from fabric. Subtle. Persistent.
Dangerously memorable.
Your apartment was small enough that if you stood in the center of it and stretched both arms outward, you could almost touch everything you owned.
And somehow—You loved it more than the mansion you grew up in.
The building itself was old, tucked between a flower shop and a tiny bakery hidden along one of the quieter streets within the city. The staircase creaked beneath your heels every single morning, and the elderly woman downstairs always complained about someone leaving newspapers in the hallway even though she was usually the culprit herself.
It felt human. Lived in. Real.
Nothing like the polished perfection of your childhood home where every room looked untouched, preserved, almost too expensive to breathe inside comfortably.
Here, the wallpaper peeled slightly near the corners from age. The pipes groaned whenever you turned on hot water. Your neighbors occasionally argued loud enough for you to hear through the walls.
And you adored every flaw.
Soft afternoon sunlight spilled through your curtains while music crackled quietly from your vintage radio resting near the kitchen counter. The melody drifting through the apartment felt warm and sleepy, blending perfectly with the scent of fresh bread sitting inside a paper bag on your tiny dining table.
You stood in front of the mirror brushing through your curls carefully while humming under your breath.
The reflection staring back at you looked different now. Not physically. But lighter somehow.
Freedom had softened something inside your eyes over the past three months.
You still became breathless too quickly. Still woke some mornings with your chest aching unpleasantly. Still occasionally frightened yourself whenever dizziness struck too suddenly after climbing stairs or laughing too hard.
But despite all of it—You looked happier. Your apartment reflected that happiness too.
Vintage fashion magazines cluttered your coffee table. Fresh flowers sat inside chipped ceramic vases near the windowsill. Books were stacked absolutely everywhere because you kept buying more despite having nowhere left to place them.
And your wardrobe—God. You smiled sheepishly while glancing toward the coat rack overloaded with clothing. Perhaps you enjoyed fashion slightly too much.
Not expensive luxury the way your mother preferred. No. You loved personality. Long coats. Soft gloves.
Lace collars. Flowing skirts. Pearl earrings found in tiny antique stores for cheap prices. You enjoyed dressing beautifully even if nobody noticed except you. Maybe especially then.
The mirror reflected your smile as you pinned a pair of earrings into place.
“Perfect,” you whispered proudly to yourself.
Then immediately coughed afterward. The sharpness inside your chest arrived suddenly enough to make you pause. Your smile faltered slightly. There it was again.
That awful tight feeling. Like invisible fingers squeezing around your lungs.
You slowly sat down at the edge of your bed while inhaling carefully through your nose exactly the way your doctor instructed. Slow breaths. Gentle. Steady. You waited quietly until the dizziness eased enough for the room to stop spinning slightly.
Then sighed. “Well,” you muttered tiredly toward the ceiling, “that’s unfortunate.”
Some days were worse than others. That was simply reality now.
You had learned your body carefully over the three months. Learned how exhaustion settled into your bones before symptoms worsened. Learned which foods made you feel heavier. Which weather conditions made breathing more difficult.
And most importantly—You learned how to hide it. Not because you were ashamed. But because you hated pity.
People looked at sick individuals strangely once they discovered something fragile existed beneath their skin. Their eyes softened too much afterward. Their voices became careful. Hesitant.
As though your entire identity suddenly transformed into something tragic.
You despised that feeling. You refused to become somebody people mourned while you were still alive.
A soft knock suddenly echoed from downstairs followed by the familiar sound of Mrs. Laurent yelling at somebody outside the building “Young people have no respect these days!”
You smiled immediately.
The elderly woman terrified almost everyone in the neighborhood despite secretly being incredibly kind beneath all the yelling. The first week you moved into the apartment, she had stared at you suspiciously before bluntly asking: “Are you dying?”
You nearly choked. “What?!”
“You look delicate.”
You laughed so hard that day your chest hurt afterward. Now she occasionally left pastries outside your door without explanation.
Your smile softened at the memory. Life here felt strangely gentle despite its hardships.
Lonely sometimes. But gentle.
Your eyes drifted toward the tiny calendar hanging near your kitchen. Three months. You had truly survived alone for three whole months now.
No servants. No luxury. No mother hovering anxiously nearby. Just you. And honestly? You felt proud of yourself. You should be.
The money left behind by your father still existed untouched in accounts your mother thankfully could not fully access, but you refused to rely on it excessively. You wanted independence properly. Wanted to know you could survive through your own efforts instead of inherited wealth.
So you worked quietly where you could. Small freelance writing. Occasionally helping local boutiques organize displays. Sketching fashion concepts for shop owners.
Nothing physically demanding. At least—Nothing too demanding.
Your doctor nearly lost his mind during your late st appointment. “You need to stop overexerting yourself.”
“I’m trying.”
“No, you are ignoring me professionally.”
You laughed nervously from your chair while he adjusted his glasses with visible frustration.
“Miss L/n,” he sighed, “your condition is not improving.”
Your smile faded slightly. You already knew that. The doctor’s office smelled like antiseptic and old paper while rain tapped softly against windows behind him. His expression softened eventually after noticing your silence.
“I am not saying this to frighten you.”
“I know.”
“You simply must understand your limits.”
Limits.
That word followed you everywhere. Your entire life had been shaped around limitations. Don’t run too fast. Don’t become too excited. Don’t overwork yourself. Don’t stress. Don’t stay out too long. Don’t. Don’t. Don’t.
You smiled sadly while staring down at your hands resting in your lap. “What if I don’t want my whole life to revolve around being careful?”
The doctor looked at you quietly afterward. And though his voice remained gentle—His answer still hurt. “Then eventually your body will decide for you.”
You left the appointment shortly afterward feeling strangely hollow. But that emptiness never lasted long. Because the city itself kept pulling you back toward life.
Toward beauty. Toward curiosity.
You loved wandering through crowded markets despite your limited budget. Loved watching street performers dance while children clapped nearby. Loved sitting near fountains with warm pastries balanced between your gloved hands.
You especially loved observing people. Young lovers arguing dramatically before kissing moments later. Old women gossiping from apartment windows. Men rushing toward work with newspapers tucked beneath their arms.
The city pulsed with life constantly.
And after spending years trapped beneath your mother’s suffocating protection—You felt starved for all of it.
Though unfortunately, your mother’s desperation eventually found its way into your new world too.
The missing posters appeared gradually. At first only near train stations.
Then shop windows. Lamp posts. Street corners. You remembered the horrible feeling settling inside your stomach the first time you saw your own face staring back at you from paper.
MISSING.
The word looked cruel beside your photograph. You immediately tore the poster down that day before anybody nearby could notice your expression.
Afterward they became impossible to avoid. Everywhere you looked—There you were. Your mother’s grief and control plastered across the city for strangers to stare at. You understood her worry. You truly did.
But something about the posters angered you deeply. Because she reported you missing as though you belonged to her.
As though you were incapable of choosing your own life.
You were twenty-three years old. Not a child. Not property. And certainly not a prisoner.
Your jaw tightened slightly at the memory and thought before shaking the frustration away. “No,” you murmured quietly to yourself while standing from the bed. “Not today.”
Today was beautiful. And you refused to ruin it by thinking about your mother.
Especially because you finally had enough money to properly grocery shop without calculating every coin nervously beforehand.
Your smile instantly returned. That alone deserved celebration.
You grabbed your long coat from the rack before slipping it over your shoulders carefully. Then your purse. Gloves afterward. Finally a quick spray of perfume near your wrists.
Perfect.
Your apartment mirror reflected a woman who looked far too elegant to be living in such a tiny apartment. But you liked that contrast. It reminded you that beauty did not belong exclusively to wealth.
Before leaving, your eyes drifted toward the flowers resting near the window. Tiny white lilies.
You smiled softly.
Your father used to buy flowers for the house constantly because he claimed beauty should exist everywhere people lived.
Perhaps that habit stayed with you. “Alright,” you whispered while grabbing your keys, “let’s go spend money irresponsibly.” Moments later you stepped outside into the busy afternoon streets completely unaware that somewhere else within the same city—
A stoic police officer with dark eyes and black gloves had already memorized your face without even realizing it yet.
And fate—Quietly. Patiently.
Was already beginning to pull both of your lives together thread by thread.
By evening, the city had transformed into something softer.
Golden light spilled from glowing shop windows onto damp cobblestone streets while the distant sound of jazz drifted lazily through the air from hidden bars and cafés tucked between narrow alleyways. Couples wandered beneath umbrellas despite the rain having long stopped hours ago, their laughter blending into the endless hum of city life.
Everything felt alive. Warm. Beautiful.
And entirely unaware that somewhere amongst the crowd, fate had already begun rearranging itself quietly.
Inside the café, Jungkook finally stood from his seat after nearly enduring two straight hours of Jaewon’s endless rambling. His chair scraped softly against the floor.
“Leaving already?” Jaewon asked dramatically.
Jungkook slid money onto the table without looking up. “You’ve exhausted me.”
“I’m your favorite coworker.”
“You’re my loudest coworker.”
Jaewon scoffed while grabbing his coat. “One day you’ll appreciate my company.”
“I doubt it.” Despite the coldness of his words, there was no genuine cruelty behind them. That was simply how Jungkook spoke.
Blunt. Quiet. Dry enough to sound uninterested even when he cared. Jaewon had long since learned how to read between the lines.
Outside, cold evening air immediately greeted them the moment they stepped onto the sidewalk. The city smelled faintly of rainwater, cigarette smoke, perfume, and old pavement warmed beneath dim streetlights.
Jaewon stretched dramatically near the curb. “I swear if my girlfriend accuses me of cheating one more time, I might actually lose my mind.”
Jungkook pulled a cigarette pack from inside his coat pocket. “Maybe stop flirting with waitresses.”
“I’m friendly.”
“You winked at her.”
“She looked sad.”
Jungkook slid a cigarette between his lips with an unimpressed stare. “You’re exhausting.”
“And you’re emotionally constipated.”
Jungkook ignored that entirely. His gloved fingers flicked open the lighter smoothly while the cigarette rested lazily between his lips. The flame illuminated his face briefly beneath the dim evening glow, sharpening the already unfair angles of his features.
Broad shoulders hidden beneath dark uniform fabric, and the dark coat.
Black gloves. Silver badge catching light. Heavy-lidded eyes that looked permanently tired yet observant all at once.
Even standing silently against the sidewalk, he somehow looked cinematic.
Jaewon sighed dramatically. “You know women stare at you constantly, right?”
Jungkook lit the cigarette calmly before finally speaking around the smoke. “I don’t care.”
“That’s the problem.”
A quiet exhale of smoke escaped Jungkook’s lips. Cool. Slow. Controlled. He was about to reply when suddenly—Someone rushed past him fast enough for wind to brush lightly against the side of his coat.
A woman. You.
Jungkook’s eyes instinctively shifted toward your figure moving hurriedly through the crowd.
Your heels clicked rapidly against the pavement while your coat swayed around your legs. You looked distracted. Completely unaware of your surroundings as you clutched shopping bags against your chest while weaving quickly through passing people.
And then—Your heel caught unevenly against the pavement. Everything happened too quickly afterward. Your eyes widened. Your body tilted forward suddenly. A startled gasp nearly escaped your lips—But before you could hit the ground, two strong gloved hands wrapped firmly around your waist.
The shopping bags nearly slipped from your grasp. Your breath hitched sharply. For one disorienting second, the world seemed to stop moving.
Jungkook steadied your body effortlessly against his chest while leaning down slightly to keep you balanced. His grip remained secure but careful, as though instinctively aware he needed to handle you gently. “You should watch where you’re going miss,” he murmured lowly.
God. His voice. Deep enough to settle somewhere dangerous beneath your ribs. But before you could even properly respond—Pain struck your chest suddenly.
Sharp. Unpleasant.
Your breathing immediately turned uneven from both panic and the abrupt movement. One hand instinctively clutched the fabric near your heart while you tried inhaling properly.
Jungkook noticed immediately. His brows furrowed.
The stoic expression resting naturally across his face shifted almost instantly into concern. Not exaggerated concern. Not panic. Just quiet attentiveness. The kind belonging to someone who noticed small details carefully.
“Miss?” His voice lowered slightly. Gentler now.
Your breathing trembled embarrassingly while you struggled to steady yourself. “I-I’m alright,” you managed softly.
You weren’t. Jungkook could tell immediately.
Your pulse visibly fluttered at your throat while your fingers pressed harder against your chest beneath the coat fabric. Without thinking, his hand carefully moved upward to brush several curls away from your face so he could properly look at you.
“Can you stand?” he asked quietly. The simple touch nearly startled you more than the fall itself.
His gloves were cold. Yet his hold somehow felt unbearably careful. You slowly looked up at him properly for the first time—And your brain nearly stopped functioning. Beautiful.
No. Beautiful felt insufficient.
The man standing before you looked unfairly attractive in a way that almost irritated you immediately. Dark eyes. Sharp features softened only slightly by concern. Broad frame hidden beneath police uniform—or better yet, a neatly white shirt along with a black tie, adding on to the black coat that covers him.
And those eyes—God. They looked so calm. So observant. As though nothing escaped his attention. Your heart beat harder for entirely different reasons now.
Dangerous reasons. You swallowed nervously before nodding quickly. “Yes.”
Jungkook slowly loosened his hold around your waist before guiding you upright carefully with one hand resting against your back. Even after you steadied yourself, he did not immediately remove his hand.
Not possessive. Attentive. As though waiting to ensure your legs truly could support you alone. “You’re pale,” he said bluntly.
You blinked. ‘What an odd thing to say to a stranger.’ Still—Something about his voice made the statement sound more concerned than rude.
“I’m always pale,” you replied weakly before offering a quick smile. Bright. Too bright. The kind of smile people used when trying to hide discomfort.
Jungkook noticed that too. Of course he did.
Your eyes curved warmly despite your obvious struggle to breathe normally again. “Thank you for catching me,” you laughed softly, slightly embarrassed now. “That would’ve been horribly humiliating.”
Jungkook stared at you silently for a moment. Then glanced downward. Your hand remained pressed against your chest. “You’re still having trouble breathing.”
“No, no,” you quickly waved him off despite your uneven breathing. “Just startled.”
Liar. The word nearly sat at the edge of Jungkook’s tongue. Not because he believed you dishonest in a malicious way. But because he recognized the look in your eyes immediately.
You were trying not to worry him. Strange. Most people exaggerated injuries for sympathy. You seemed determined to minimize yours instead.
Meanwhile, Jaewon stood several feet away watching the interaction with shameless curiosity. Then suddenly—Jungkook froze slightly. His eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly while looking at your face again.
Recognition. You noticed the subtle shift instantly. Your smile faltered.
Jungkook’s gloved hand slowly slipped inside his coat pocket before pulling something folded from within. Paper. Your stomach dropped immediately.
No. No no no—He unfolded it calmly. And there you were. Your own face stared back at you from the missing poster. For a moment, the city noise around you disappeared entirely. Your pulse roared violently inside your ears.
Jungkook looked between the photograph and your face carefully. Then finally back at you. His expression remained unreadable.
Stoic. Controlled. But his eyes sharpened slightly with realization. “It’s you,” he said quietly.
Your throat tightened. You forced out an awkward laugh immediately. “I think there are lots of women with curls.”
Jungkook did not smile. Not because he seemed cruel. But because he genuinely looked too observant to fall for such a terrible lie. “You’re Y/n L/n.”
Hearing your full name from his mouth felt terrifying somehow. Your fingers tightened around your purse straps.
“Who are you?” you asked carefully now.
Jungkook folded the paper once more before sliding it back into his pocket. “I’m an officer.”
Your heart dropped straight into your stomach. Of course he was. Of course the devastatingly handsome stranger who caught you dramatically in the middle of the sidewalk just had to be a police officer.
How unfortunate. Your breathing turned uneven again—not from attraction this time. Panic. Jungkook noticed immediately. “You’re nervous,” he observed quietly.
“No I’m not.”
“You’re breathing harder.”
Your eyes widened slightly. Was he always this observant? You quickly took a step backward. Jungkook’s gaze lowered briefly toward your heels. Then your chest. Then your face again.
“You shouldn’t run,” he said calmly.
And somehow—That single sentence told you he already understood far more than he should. Panic surged violently through you.
You didn’t think. Didn’t plan. You simply turned around and bolted.
Your heels struck sharply against pavement while you hurried desperately through the crowd. Your lungs burned almost immediately from the exertion, but fear pushed you forward anyway.
You couldn’t go back home. Wouldn’t. Not now. Not after finally tasting freedom. Behind you, Jungkook remained standing exactly where you left him.
He made no immediate move to chase you.
Instead, he simply watched your retreating figure disappear further into the crowd while cigarette smoke curled lazily beside him. His brows furrowed faintly. Running.
With a condition severe enough to affect your breathing that badly. In heels. Alone. Strange woman. A very strange woman. Yet despite the concern settling quietly inside his chest—
Something else lingered there too. Curiosity. Dangerous curiosity. Because the missing poster described someone fragile.
But the woman he just met? She looked stubborn enough to outrun death itself if given the chance. And somehow—
Jungkook already suspected meeting you today would not be the last time your lives crossed paths.
Nighttime transformed the city into something seductive.
The streets no longer belonged to exhausted workers rushing toward responsibility or businessmen disappearing into crowded offices with newspapers tucked beneath their arms. No—night belonged to entirely different people. Lovers wrapped in expensive coats whispering secrets beneath glowing street lamps. Women in silk dresses slipping into underground jazz clubs hidden behind velvet curtains. Men smoking cigarettes beside polished cars while laughter echoed from somewhere deep within the city’s endless maze of nightlife.
Everything shimmered after dark. The neon signs. The rainwater still resting along pavement cracks.
The windows glowing amber from crowded restaurants and cafés.
Even the air itself felt richer somehow. Warmer. Alive. And somewhere within all of it—
You wandered through the streets with grocery bags hanging from your arms while humming absentmindedly beneath your breath.
You felt victorious.
Mostly because after nearly an hour of paranoid maneuvering through the city, you were finally beginning to believe you successfully escaped the terrifyingly attractive police officer from earlier.
You had ducked behind buildings. Crossed streets unnecessarily. Entered random stores pretending to browse. At one point, you even crouched behind an elderly couple because you thought you spotted his broad figure several blocks away.
Only for it to be some poor random man wearing a similar coat.
Embarrassing. Still—Better safe than dragged back home.
You sighed dramatically while adjusting the grocery bags digging into your fingers. “This is exhausting,” you muttered to yourself. Yet despite your complaining, a small smile still rested against your lips.
Because you were free.
Free enough to wander through glowing streets at night buying unnecessary pastries and flowers if you wanted to.
Free enough to exist without someone monitoring every breath you took. Your pace slowed slightly as your apartment block finally came into view.
Thank God. Your feet were beginning to ache from walking in heels all day. But just as relief began settling inside your chest—You froze.
Oh no. No no no—
Standing near the curb underneath the glow of a street lamp was a painfully familiar figure.
Tall. Broad shouldered. Dark coat. Black gloves. And beside him stood Mrs. Laurent from the first floor speaking animatedly with her hands flying dramatically through the air.
You stared in horror. The officer. Of course it had to be him.
Your annoying elderly neighbor suddenly pointed somewhere while continuing her rambling explanation, causing the officer to glance down briefly toward the notepad resting inside his hand.
Even from a distance—He looked unfairly handsome.
The warm glow from nearby storefronts illuminated the sharpness of his features while strands of dark hair rested near his eyes. His posture remained calm and composed as he wrote something down quickly before sliding the notepad back inside his coat.
You caught a glimpse of the dark suit neatly fitted beneath his uniform coat. Your stomach flipped annoyingly. This was terrible.
You immediately turned around intending to disappear before either of them noticed you.
Unfortunately—“Miss L/n!”
You nearly died. Mrs. Laurent’s voice echoed loudly enough for half the block to hear. You closed your eyes briefly.
Wonderful. Absolutely wonderful.
Slowly turning back around, you forced the brightest smile you could manage despite wanting to scream internally. Mrs. Laurent waved excitedly from beside Jungkook.
“There you are!”
Meanwhile, Jungkook simply stared at you silently beneath the streetlight. Stoic. Unreadable.
Though you noticed immediately how his eyes briefly lowered toward the heavy grocery bags hanging from your arms before returning to your face again.
Observant. Always observing.
You awkwardly approached them while mentally preparing for the worst possible outcome. Mrs. Laurent immediately grabbed your arm dramatically.
“This officer was asking questions about someone trespassing near the alleyways,” she explained quickly. “Young men these days have absolutely no manners.”
You nodded politely despite barely listening. Because Jungkook was still looking at you. Not rudely. Not harshly. Just—Attentively. Like he was quietly studying every expression crossing your face.
Your throat tightened slightly. Fine. If this was happening, you would simply pretend earlier never occurred. Perfect plan.
You immediately held your hand out politely toward him. “Lovely to meet you, officer.”
Jungkook’s gaze dropped toward your outstretched hand. Then slowly back up toward your face. And for the briefest second—Something almost resembling amusement flickered within his dark eyes.
You wanted him to play along. He realized that immediately. Without questioning it, Jungkook carefully took your hand inside his gloved one.
Warm. Large. His grip remained firm yet strangely gentle. “Jeon Jungkook,” he introduced calmly. “Pleasure meeting you.”
His voice sounded even deeper at night somehow. Smooth enough to settle heavily beneath your skin.
You swallowed nervously before pulling your hand away perhaps a little too quickly. Mrs. Laurent thankfully remained oblivious. She continued rambling for another several minutes about suspicious men, broken bottles, and how nobody respected apartment buildings anymore.
Eventually she sighed dramatically before turning toward the entrance. “Well, I’m freezing,” she muttered. “Goodnight, children.”
Children. You nearly laughed.
Mrs. Laurent disappeared inside the building shortly afterward, leaving you alone beneath the street lamps with the exact man you had spent hours trying to avoid.
This is tiring. You sighed. Heavy silence. You shifted awkwardly beneath his gaze before clearing your throat. “Well,” you smiled nervously while lifting the grocery bags slightly, “I should probably head upstairs and make dinner.”
Jungkook remained still for a moment. Then quietly—“Why did you run away?”
Straight to the point. Of course. You looked away briefly. The city noise suddenly felt distant compared to the weight of that question.
You could’ve lied. Should’ve lied.
Yet something about his voice made dishonesty feel exhausting. So instead, you sighed softly. “My mother means well,” you admitted quietly. “But after my father passed away, she became…” You struggled for the right word. “Controlling.”
Jungkook listened silently. You shifted the grocery bags again before continuing. “I have a severe heart condition,” you explained. “There’s a hole in the center of my heart called—”
“Atrial Septal Defect.” Your eyes widened immediately. Jungkook’s expression remained calm.
“You know it?” you asked softly.
“My mother worked in healthcare,” he replied simply. “I’ve heard of it before.” Something about that answer softened your nervousness slightly.
Only slightly. Because reality still remained painfully clear. He was an officer. And you were technically a missing person. Your fingers tightened around the grocery bags nervously.
“So…” your voice lowered helplessly, “are you going to report me?”
Jungkook stayed quiet. The silence nearly killed you.
He glanced upward briefly toward the dark sky while cigarette smoke from some nearby stranger curled lazily through the air. Street lamps illuminated the sharp line of his jaw while distant jazz music echoed faintly from somewhere down the block.
Finally, he sighed. “No.”
Your entire body visibly relaxed. Relief flooded your face so quickly it almost startled him.
“But,” Jungkook added calmly, “you need to be more careful, and I’ll have to keep an eye on you.”
You nodded immediately. Rapidly. Almost desperately. Jungkook stared at you for a moment before speaking again. “If you truly want to stay hidden, then stop drawing attention to yourself.”
You blinked innocently. “I don’t draw attention.”
“You ran from a police officer in public.”
“…Fair point.”
“And stop overexerting yourself.”
You opened your mouth. Closed it again. Because unfortunately—He was right. Jungkook’s gaze lowered briefly toward your chest before returning to your face. “You were struggling to breathe earlier.”
You looked away awkwardly. “That was slightly dramatic of my lungs.”
“That isn’t funny.” His tone remained calm. Yet strangely firm. The words settled warmly and heavily all at once inside your chest.
Nobody your age usually spoke to you so seriously about your condition without sounding pitying.
Jungkook sounded…Concerned. Genuinely concerned. And somehow that felt far more dangerous.
You smiled softly before bowing your head slightly. “Thank you, Officer Jeon.” You turned toward the apartment entrance—Only for his voice to stop you immediately. “Jungkook.”
You glanced back.
“No formalities,” he said simply. The city lights reflected softly inside your eyes as you stared at him for a moment.
Then smiled. “Thank you, Jungkook.”Something unreadable flickered across his expression briefly. Then his eyes lowered toward the grocery bags nearly slipping from your grasp.
His brows furrowed immediately. “You carried all of this by yourself?”
“…Yes, why?”
Without another word, Jungkook stepped forward and effortlessly removed the heaviest bags from your arms before you could protest.
“Wait—”
“You shouldn’t be lifting this much stuff.” His tone left absolutely no room for argument.
Before you could even fully process what was happening, his free hand gently wrapped around yours.
Warm. Secure. Protective. Your breath caught embarrassingly fast. Not from your condition this time.
Jungkook slowly guided you toward the apartment entrance while carrying the groceries easily with one hand. His pace remained unhurried. Careful. Like he instinctively adjusted himself around your body without needing instruction.
The staircase quickly became your enemy.
By the second flight, your breathing already began turning uneven. Sharp little inhales escaping despite your efforts to hide them.
Jungkook immediately slowed further. “Take your time,” he murmured deeply beside you. “There’s no rush.”
The gentleness in his voice nearly made your chest ache worse. You laughed weakly between breaths. “You sound like you’ve escorted dying women upstairs before.”
Jungkook glanced at you calmly. “You’re not dying tonight.”
The statement came so certain. So matter-of-fact. That warmth spread unexpectedly through your chest. By the final staircase, you genuinely thought your legs might collapse from exhaustion.
Thankfully your apartment door finally came into view.
Jungkook stopped beside you while holding the grocery bags effortlessly. You fumbled slightly with your keys before finally unlocking the door.
Then hesitated. Your eyes slowly drifted toward him. Toward the man standing patiently beside you after helping carry your groceries upstairs instead of arresting you.
You cleared your throat softly. “It’s late,” you murmured awkwardly. “And it feels unfair making you walk home alone after helping me.”
Jungkook remained silent. You immediately prepared for rejection. Instead—“Alright.”
Your eyes widened slightly. Oh. Well. That was surprisingly easy.
Jungkook stepped forward before opening the apartment door wider for you first like it was the most natural thing in the world.
A gentleman. Painfully so.
You slowly stepped inside while your pulse fluttered strangely beneath your ribs.
Unsure whether inviting a police officer who could expose your location at any moment into your apartment was the smartest decision you had ever made—
Or the beginning of something that would quietly change your entire life forever.
˙⋆✮ They say having feelings for your brother’s best friend is never a good idea…
But loving Jungkook feels like the easiest thing in the world.
He’s been by your side for as long as you can remember, so it’s only natural for you to feel devastated when your brother, Dohyun, tells you that Jungkook is about to get married.
For the first time ever, loving him doesn’t feel easy at all.
𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 : brother’s best friend!jungkook x f!reader
𝙘𝙬 : age gap (jk is 32, reader is 22 ops), tension, reader is WHIPPED, pining, initial unrequited love (my fav), eventual smut (!!adding new warnings when needed!!)
➵ summary: you have a plan for your crappy, diabolical ex who’s set on ruining your life; making him jealous by snagging a raunchy photo with two hot employees at the gym. what you didn’t have a plan for? befriending the mischievous pair to aid in your revenge and ending up underneath not just one, but both of them.
➵ pairing: gym employee!namjoon x f. reader x gym employee!jungkook
➵ genre: college!au, strangers to friends to lovers!au, porn but with plot :), the dIRTIEst smut, fluff
➵ rating: 18+
➵ word count: 24k
➵ warnings: swearing, toxic masculinity (the ex), heavy making out, sexual tENSION, explicit sexual content, threesome <3, dom!namjoon & jungkook, sub!reader, big dicc!namjoon & jungkook, praising!! with a side of humiliation/degradation, use of slut, breast fondling, dirty talk, size kink cause this features our bIG BEEFY VIRGOS, delicious amounts of teasing, lots of ear-licking/sucking, pussy fondling, pussy-eating, clit play, finger-sucking, oral (m. receiving) x2, spanking, hair-pulling, ball-fondling, deep-throating, face-fucking, fingering, swallowing, unprotected sex (pls be safer!!), begging, roughhh sex, voyuerism, exhibitionism, slight possession kink, facial hehe, multiple orgasms, cum-eating, face-sitting/riding, double penetration, spitting, creampie, aftercare <33
➵ a/n: YAYYY it’s here!! this was supposed to be me namkook september birthday gift but ugh life really got in the way! pls forgive me and enjoy, your feedback means the world to me <3 ALSO thank you endlessly to @rkivian for creating this pretty banner for me!! (pls excuse mistakes i did not have a beta pFT)
𓄲 His next exhale puffs down the side of your neck, his voice closer than it had been since he'd left the bed. "I don't regret what happened," He murmurs, palms splaying over your waist as he toys with the hem of your shirt absently. "I hope you don't either," His lips brush the line of your jaw in a silent caress.
전정국 x f!reader ˖ ࣪ ꉂ🗯˙ ‹— cw dilf!jungkook single dad jungkook nanny!reader 1980s au slowburn fluff angst (eventual) explicit content age gap (jungkook is 30, reader is 20) oc!cassian/oc!rayne (jk's children) suggestive (?) a few kisses, for good measure
⧽ word count ⋮ 6.3k
average reading time ⋮ 35 minutes
── [ ✉️ ] So, I don't know how much I like my writing in this one. I also skimmed it so if it sounds cringe (?) and you find words such as 'though' rather than 'touch' that is because Ellipsus refuses to tell me when my sentences don't make sense.. Uh yeah. Hm, very much Jungkook & OC in this one, and by that I mean only them. But the children will return next week, I miss them <3 Feedback in the comments/reblogs and asks are much appreciated <3
series masterlist | last chapter | next part
chapter 16 — "tainted skin"
"What about this one?"
The pad of your finger brushes along the soft swirl of a rose. The red ink has since long sunk into his skin, its once bright hue now a muted memory. You regard the individual petals, hoping for them to magically unravel and tell you a secret or two about the man beneath you.
Sprawled comfortably on top of his chest, you had spent the past ten minutes tracing each illustration adorning Jungkook's arm. There were more than you could count, some blending with one another — others appearing to have been colored over a past one, possibly covering for a mistake he never intended to make.
Jungkook hums out a quiet breath where he lays against the pillows. After providing you with water and cleaning you off with a damp towel, he'd returned to bed, unbothered by how quickly you had crawled on top of him to study the tattoos that wrapped around his forearm and bicep.
Your persistent questions never seemed to bore him, which only made you want to ask more. Right now he's following your line of sight, gaze lingering on the faded rose you were caressing. "That one?" He huffs, "Got it in 76' at some rundown studio after a night out."
His hand, resting firmly on your naked hip, squeezes you gently. "Thought it was edgy I suppose," He trails off before continuing in a low rasp, "Or perhaps I entertained the idea that mother would scold me less if she found out it was a rose rather than a skull."
You crack a smile at that, tilting your head enough to squint at him through the warm hues of orange. "She didn't like you getting tattoos?"
Jungkook's brows furrow, jaw tightening before he relaxes it again. "She still doesn't," He affirms with a quiet grunt. The muscle under your fingers tenses when he flexes his arm, pulling your attention from his face and back to the designs painting his skin. "Though she came to accept them," He shrugs, feigning indifference, but you saw the way his eyes lingered on the red petals.
For a moment you choose to listen to the steady breaths he draws, feeling the rise and fall of his chest beneath you — it reminds you of a sleeping cat. The smell of sex still clings to the warm afternoon air, but neither you nor Jungkook had brought up what happened yet. You find that you don't want to, not right now at least.
Your palm flattens out against his arm, sliding across his bicep slowly before reaching his shoulder. "Would you ever get another one?" The question is a whisper on your lips and you keep your gaze on the tips of your fingers where they caress the ink bleeding onto his chest.
Jungkook inhales a deep, slow breath, his torso expanding beneath you until he lets it go again. The remnants of his exhale flutters across the lower half of your face. "I don't know," He says, the corner of his mouth tugging into a frown, "Maybe…"
He flexes the inked hand resting on the mattress. "I would like the children's names I think." After a short pause he adds, "Though I don't exactly have much space left."
You hum, letting your featherlight touch move over his naked chest, all the way along his collarbone before dipping down to rest above the thumping of his heart. "What about here?" You write out both of their names with the help of your index finger, spelling them across his chest clumsily, "I think your mom would approve of that one."
When nothing but stillness follows the proposal you glance up to find Jungkook watching you through half-lidded eyes. He wears a serene expression, something so unfamiliar to see on his otherwise tense face. It's a nice change, you think.
The hand he keeps on your hip brushes along your waist in a wordless agreement and he hums. His touch moves to your back, trailing up your spine before sliding back down again. He repeats the motion a handful of times, the slowly setting sun outside painting your naked bodies.
Another minute passes where you're content to just watch one another. Your fingers busy themselves by drawing lazy patterns across his chest. Slowly they creep up the line of his throat, past his Adam's apple until they find the sharp edge of his jaw. The skin there is rougher and you let the pad of your thumb drag across the faint stubble.
"Do you think you'd grow it out?"
Jungkook's eyes, which had fallen shut during your ministrations, cracked open enough to peer at you. He cocks a brow, gaze following the path your fingers take. A soft breath escapes him, "No."
"No?" You press, tapping his chin thoughtfully, "Why not? I think it looks sexy."
At that he averts his gaze, clearing his throat softly before shaking his head slowly. "No," He echoes, hand returning to your hip, "It makes me look old."
"I would argue that you are old," You hum, unable to keep from teasing him, if only a little.
He doesn't verbally respond to that, instead giving your waist a firm squeeze as he settles back against the pillows. He lets you continue to run your fingers across his jaw, not stopping you when you reach the soft flesh of his bottom lip.
You had always found Jungkook to be quite handsome. But when studying him up close like this you realized that he was downright gorgeous, it was almost unfair. Without the crease between his brows or the tension to his face — he looked angelic.
Your index finger slides along his lip, pausing when the faint scar just below it catches your eye. "What's that?" You murmur, stroking across the tiny, almost invisible discoloration on his skin, so small you could have easily missed it, had you not been paying attention.
Jungkook exhales, tongue prodding at the tissue from inside his mouth, almost absently. "I used to have a piercing there, a long time ago." He explains it like it was the most casual thing in the world, clearly oblivious to the gawking look you send him.
"Seriously?" You lean forward, already inspecting the faint scar closely.
"Mhm," He tilts his head back to give you a clearer view, "A ring."
"And it didn't hurt?" The questions were pouring out of you in an endless stream as you peek at the tiny hole. It was the faintest hue of pink that marred him, appearing to have been healed since long.
"No," He murmurs silently, lifting one hand to push his dark hair from his forehead. You follow the movement, frowning softly when he cocks a brow. "Used to have one here as well," Jungkook explains and it is when he points to the arch of his eyebrow that you see a similar scar seared into the skin there.
You're reaching out to touch before you can stop yourself, thumb pressing against the mark like it could somehow show you a locked memory. "Woah," Exhaling softly, you try to picture him with glinting silver adorning his face, briefly wondering what it would feel like to kiss his lips and feel the metal there.
"What kind of guy did you use to be, huh?" You drawl when leaning back to prop your chin on folded arms. As much as you were just trying to poke harmless fun at him, you could not deny the curiosity swirling deep within your chest. Sometimes Jungkook spoke as though he had lived a whole other life before this — in a way, you suppose he had.
But he only scoffs, dark eyes flickering over to a spot on the wall. The tension seeps back into his shoulders, jaw clenching in tune with the crease pulling across his forehead. "Not someone I'm proud of," He simply says, and judging by the tone he used, it was obvious you wouldn't get more than that.
Still, you prod, head tilting to the side as a lazy smile tugs at your lips. "Why, it can't be that bad?" It was hard to picture Jungkook as anything but the man you had gotten to know during the past month and a half. You imagine him in a tattoo shop, loud music blaring from the speakers as he lets someone paint his arm. What would he wear? Was his hair longer?
Jungkook doesn't give you any intel, nor does he respond to your previous inquiry. His hand caresses your hip one final time, the other coming up to rest against your cheek. "I'll make us something to eat," He murmurs, lips brushing your forehead softly as he presses a chaste kiss to the spot.
The mattress shifts under his weight, rising slightly when he gets up, leaving you stranded on the bed as you awkwardly push yourself to sit straighter. "I trust you'll find your way to the bathroom if you want to shower." He says when pulling on his boxers and dress pants.
Once he's clothed from the waist down he pauses, dark gaze finding yours. His expression is impossible to read, like it so often was. Just as you think he's about to leave without another word Jungkook surprises you by instead taking a step in your direction.
He crosses the distance separating you in two quick strides, leaning down enough for his nose to brush yours. Breath hitching in your throat, you let your eyes flutter when he leans in close enough for your lips to touch.
The kiss is slow, the absence of both tongue and teeth making it feel almost tender. Your fingers curl around the sheets you sit on and you lean in to the warmth of him.
When he pulls back it's with reluctance, the pad of his thumb lingering on your chin a moment longer. "I'll leave you to it," He says, hand sliding down your arm before he detaches himself from you completely. The bedroom door is left ajar after his departure and you listen to the sound of his retreating footsteps.
The shower should have helped.
Hot water cascading down your naked body, steam curling around you in a protective embrace — just you and the thoughts you couldn't keep at bay. They were loud in Jungkook's absence.
Being wrapped in his arms for nearly an hour had made you forget about what the two of you had actually done. The line you had crossed which you would never be able to come back from.
When you close your eyes and step under the stream you can still see the look on his face. The need written onto his every feature, the natural flush creeping down his neck and the way his hair clung to his sweaty forehead. Through the sound of water splashing against the tiled floor you could hear the echoes of his voice, the low groans which had reverberated against your skin — so close.
With a shudder you reach out and twist the shower to an icy cold, attempting to block out the sudden heat blooming deep inside your gut at the vivid image. It doesn't work and you're left a shivering mess before finally giving up and adjusting the temperature to something endurable.
You knew that whatever conversation might await you downstairs would be far from pleasant. So you stay under the water for as long as possible, trying to prolong the inevitable.
Would he tell you that it was all a mistake just like he had the kiss? Your fingers curl around the shower handle, nails digging into the heel of your hand at the thought of another rejection from him — you don't think you could handle it.
Because this time it wasn't only a kiss. It was something much more intimate, you had shared a piece of yourself so vulnerable that you did not know what would become of you if he decided to crush it in his palm.
Letting go of the shower handle to reach for the bottle of soap, the tips of your fingers hesitate just short of it. Everything in here smelled like him. Even the towel which you had grabbed fresh from the linen cabinet had his scent on it. That intoxicating aroma that did nothing but remind you of how it had felt to have his lips on your body, his hands holding you down against the mattress—
Your scrub yourself roughly, attempting to wash the memory away before it ate you alive. Only, all it seemed to do was tangle you further into its web. The soap is laced with everything that reminds you of him — Jungkook is everywhere without ever intending to be. It's frustrating just as much as it is dangerous.
By the looks of it, you would be standing under the water until it turned cold — stuck in an endless loop of trying to bury a memory you did not want to let go of in the first place. At this rate, Jungkook might as well climb the stairs in search of you — and you found that you did not want that. Thus, you cut the stream and step out barefoot onto the bright tiles.
Your clothes don't feel the same on your body when descending down the stairs. From pulling the fabric over your legs and slipping your shirt back in place. The fabric clings too tight, rubbing against your skin uncomfortably with each step you take. Fingers trailing along the banister, you let them tap restlessly onto the wood.
The smell of freshly made food wafts through the air once you reach the bottom of the staircase. It leads you through the hallway and into the kitchen, feet carrying you without thought.
By the time you reach the archway your heart is pounding in your ears, your breath coming in short, jagged pants. Wiping your clammy hands against your thighs, you force yourself to cross the threshold — you were going to have to face this moment sooner or later, better to get it over with right away.
Jungkook's naked back is what greets you first. He stands by the stove, seemingly unaware of your presence for the time being. It was reassuring and you take the moment to study him when approaching the kitchen island. Leaning your elbows on the cool marble, you use the cold to ground yourself as you watch him move about.
His hands are occupied with pushing around the meat sizzling in the pan, the muscle in his forearm stretching when he uses a pair of tongs to turn the beef. It was a domestic sight. For a brief while you could almost imagine this to be your new reality. Coming down to see him like this, hair unkempt and half-dressed, cooking for you.
However that small bubble was quickly burst when Jungkook's voice suddenly breaks the silence. "Was your shower… Alright?" He asks, the question tumbling off his tongue rather awkwardly, almost as though he were making the words up on the spot.
It catches you off guard, if only for a second. Jungkook was not one to insinuate conversation like this. His inquiry felt almost like an afterthought, as though whatever he was currently thinking of had somehow managed to make its way past his lips without him meaning for it to.
When he turns his head to send you a glance over his shoulder, your gazes cross paths — though not for long. Jungkook's eyes dip to the shirt you wear. Your attempts at drying off had been meek, your hands distracted by thoughts of the man before you setting the entire ordeal up for failure from the start. The cotton around you is darkened in places, especially around your neckline where the fabric sticks to you like glue.
"Yeah," Hands fiddling mindlessly with one another, you realize that perhaps you ought to straighten up again. "The shower was alright," You hum as you plaster a faint smile onto your face.
Jungkook doesn't respond more than a slow tilt of his head. His gaze have yet to stray from the glistening skin of your neck and collarbone, eyes trailing along the modest cut of your shirt. You recognize that look as something you had seen not long ago, when he'd let himself get so close. It makes your stomach flutter in ways you shouldn't allow it to, and the beating of your heart only grows louder for each passing moment.
At last, he finally tears himself from your shirt. His eyes shift back to yours, there's something almost bashful swirling within their dark depths — but it is gone just as quickly when Jungkook clears his throat and turns back to the meat cooking on the stove.
You stand by the kitchen island a moment longer, fingers tracing the cool marble with an audible sigh. Then you pad over to where he stands, coming to a halt so close that your elbow might just brush his. And though you never turn to fully look at him, you could still sense the way he tensed beside you before forcing himself to relax.
"Need help with anything?" You ask when peering down at the various side dishes he had prepared to go along with the meat. It all smelled really good and you had to stop your itching fingers from reaching out and trying some of it.
Jungkook cocks a brow when stealing a glance at you from the corner of his eye. "I'm almost done," He replies gruffly, turning the nearly cooked beef in the pan to accentuate the statement.
You huff, resting your hands against the counter top. "So you deem me useless?"
He lets out a low chuckle at that, raw and real — the rare sound so addicting to your ears. His free hand finds your waist, fingers slipping beneath the hem of your shirt absently. The touch is mundane, simple, and somehow it manages to set your skin aflame.
"Won't you let me do this for you?" He questions back, like the thought of you offering to help was somehow a blow to his attempt at cooking you a meal. Yet his tone is playful, perhaps he didn't mind at all.
Deciding to humor him, you nod with an exaggerated groan. "Fine," Gaze flitting over to the kitchen island, you hum, "I'll go set the table then."
You're reluctant to move from your spot, content with having his hand on your hip. Jungkook seems to share that idea for his grip tightens before he loosens it again. He withdraws his fingers a moment later, letting them skim down your thigh before his arm falls back to his side again.
The sound of silverware clinking against porcelain is all that can be heard inside the kitchen. You had sat down by the marble island to eat, the meal shared quietly between you. Your stools are pushed close together, closer than necessary but neither of you pull back when a knee is accidentally bumped against the other.
Jungkook puts additional food onto your plate whenever he sees it running low. Wordlessly placing more rice in front of you, another piece of beef or nudging one of the side dishes in your direction. He doesn't ask before doing so and you don't stop him.
In the beginning you had found his silence unbearable, like this endless void that you had been tasked to fill with mindless conversation. Sometimes you still felt that way — it was impossible not to. But right now, you didn't mind it. Even when he was quiet he spoke to you.
An arm brushing yours, a quick glance your way or the glass of water he slid closer to you. You realized that it was his own way of communicating. And so you never called him out on the small, simple actions.
Instead you use the moment to study him closely. Jungkook was very expressive without meaning to. His brows would furrow as he chewed, sometimes he looked almost frustrated despite clearly enjoying the food, it was quite endearing. He'd lick his top lip between bites, not always, but often enough for you to notice the habit.
His fingers were always busy, whether it was handling his utensils, reaching for his glass or wiping the corner of his mouth with a napkin. He sat straight in his chair too, making you subconsciously try to mimic his posture — only to fall back into the hunched position you had been in for the past ten minutes.
Occasionally you would let your gaze dip to his naked chest, roaming the muscle which flexed each time he shifted as much as an inch. Memories of your hands sliding across the same patches of skin come rushing back and you have to shove them down before they got too vivid.
"So…" You clear your throat into your fist after swallowing down the fifth piece of beef he'd piled onto your plate. Ever since the two of you sat down to eat, you had pondered on how to bring up the topic smoothly. Throwing the word 'sex' out in the middle of your meal made you sweat anxiously, almost more than the actual ordeal of doing it had.
In the end you opt for a safer, albeit more vague route. "We should probably… Talk." It wasn't the first time those same words had been uttered today and considering that your last conversation is what landed you here, this one scared you.
Jungkook does not appear as nervous when he takes another bite, slowly placing his fork down on the edge of his plate. He reaches for his glass, taking a long slow sip and you watch intently as his Adam's apple bobs when he swallows.
"We should," He agrees, setting his glass back down before turning in his seat. The new position allows you a clear view of the same tattoos you had spent so much time tracing only an hour ago.
You blink slowly, registering the fact that he was actually taking the bait you'd hesitantly thrown out, something you hadn't expected him to do in the first place — and thus you hadn't planned the conversation further than that.
The version of yourself from earlier this afternoon would have probably spoken her mind by now. She seemed to know what she wanted. Hell, she even voiced her desires out loud.
This version of you is shy.
The heat between you had simmered down into something quieter, a slowly burning candle instead of a roaring fire. Clarity of what happened upstairs sits heavy on your shoulders and it makes you hesitate.
Should you tell him that it was a mistake, even when you did not believe it to be? Would it make you feel at ease to hide behind the idea that this had not been real rather than admitting that it had been everything… Perhaps. Still, you remember the tear Jungkook's words had ripped in your chest when he dismissed your first kiss as nothing but that, a mistake.
You couldn't bring yourself to do it.
Beside you, Jungkook sits quietly. His expression is indifferent when he regards you, dark eyes dragging up and down your frame multiple times without finding rest. You wondered if he really was as unbothered by all of this as he tried to appear?
Both his hands are clasped together over his parted legs — and it is then you notice his fingers. Without the distraction of either the silverware or his glass, they were now tapping rhythmically against one another. You had never seen him do that before, then again, Jungkook rarely took his hands out of his pockets to begin with.
After another tense moment he's the one to finally sigh. "My children," He begins in a low voice, "Their means of well being exceeds anything else."
The crease that forms between his brows becomes prominent under the soft kitchen lights. His naked shoulders were drawn up, the flesh of his cheek caught between his teeth as he chewed on it. "I will not let what happened between you and me affect them."
You nod, gaze dropping to your own hands, currently resting on the marble counter top. "I understand." It would be selfish to think that you could possibly barge in and demand something from him when he already had his arms and heart full.
When you steal a glance at him through your lashes, you find Jungkook watching you with a conflicted look on his face. "Introducing something like this to them—" He shakes his head, running his restless fingers through his hair. "They're not ready for that." There's a short pause where you're almost inclined to believe that he wants to say more.
He never does.
Shifting in your seat, you rub at your wrist — idly fiddling with the beads of the bracelet resting there, the gift from Cassian. You had slipped it back on after your shower, thinking that in some twisted sense, it might protect you. Or maybe it just made you feel closer to the young boy even in his absence.
Jungkook's eyes follows the movement, his brows furrowing even deeper as he studies the handmade bracelet adorning your wrist. He never comments on it but his heavy gaze remains.
Another, 'I understand' sits waiting on your tongue — but did you really? Those were his children, their lives and well being were his responsibility. For all the time you had spent with the two of them, you were still not their parent and you never would be. The weight on his back was not yours to carry, so why did you want to try anyway?
"I love Rayne and Cassian."
Your quiet admission slips out into the warm air and you watch as Jungkook's next exhale catches on his tongue — dark eyes snapping to yours instantly. There's something calculating in the look he sends you, like he was picking you apart with the means of uncovering deceit. He won't find any, you know that he won't for you don't think you'd ever been so certain about anything in your life before.
And it was easy to say. It was easy to say because the children were easy to love. Cassian's warm and giddy laughter, tiny arms wrapping around your middle when he went in for a tight hug. Rayne's quick witted responses that always seemed to have you smiling.
Jungkook nods slowly, his gaze drifting across the room before landing on you. He doesn't say anything, but the edges around his sharp eyes have softened into something gentle.
The silence however, was starting to get to you. The need for reassurance wells up inside your chest like a beast provoked. "It's okay, you know…" Picking at your nails restlessly, you avoid looking at his face, "I mean we didn't—"
"We had sex."
His voice is chilling, barely above a murmur. It was the first time any of you had brought it up, the first time you had actually put a label to what happened. It feels scary because now you don't know what comes next.
Jungkook inhales a deep breath, and though you were no longer meeting his gaze, you knew that his hadn't strayed. "It— It cannot change things, not around the children." There's finality in the way he says it, the same tone he uses whenever he drew a line — he would not discuss this further.
The sigh that leaves your lips brings your shoulder with it, your chest deflating like a sad balloon. Even so, there's a strange sense of understanding. You knew just as well as he did that it would be selfish to push the boundaries he'd set. To not think of the children who you loved so dearly.
"I want the best for them as well." For some reason that hurts to say, even when you know that you mean it. Burying this moment of shared intimacy as far back in your mind as possible was the reasonable thing to do, and you would, as long as it meant protecting the fragile peace you had found with his kids.
Silence holds you still for a long while after that. There's still food left but neither of you reach for it. You don't think you could stomach another bite. Jungkook isn't looking at you anymore — that was the worst part, you think. The muscles in his jaw are clenched tight, preventing him from saying things he shouldn't.
You stand then, grabbing both plates before rounding the kitchen island. The porcelain is smooth, it could have easily slipped from your loose grasp, had you not been paying attention when placing them down in the sink.
The tips of your fingers were just shy of brushing the handle to turn the faucet on when a dark shadow appears behind you.
Jungkook's hands are warm and solid as they settle on your hips. The touch is familiar, comfortable even — for a second you almost lean into it, just barely catching yourself in time to feel his naked chest brush against your backside.
His next exhale puffs down the side of your neck, his voice closer than it had been since he'd left the bed. "I don't regret what happened," He murmurs, palms splaying over your waist as he toys with the hem of your shirt absently. "I hope you don't either," His lips brush the line of your jaw in a silent caress.
Abandoning the idea of washing the dishes entirely, you allow him to guide you to face him, your lower back pressing against the hard edge of the sink. His eyes are half lidded, laced with the means of his admission.
"I don't regret it," You whisper, sucking in a sharp breath when his nose bumps against yours.
He doesn't respond with actual words, but the soft press of his mouth to yours was enough to convey what was on his mind.
This kiss would be the first you shared since the ones passed between you in bed and Jungkook was just as gentle as he had been all day — only this time there was an undercurrent of something else. His tongue finds yours, hesitant in the beginning, as though he was trying to prove himself through the simple action alone.
His hands tighten around your hips, holding you in place as he crowds you to the sink. It was contradicting every word that had been uttered since you sat down to eat, where both of you know that you should pull back yet neither of you can bring yourself to do just that.
You would allow yourself to have this, just this one kiss.
Jungkook parts from you a moment later, reluctantly placing a last peck to your lips before resting his forehead against yours. You couldn't make out his expression from this close, left to feel only his warm breath on your face.
"Let me get dressed," He says when lifting a hand to cradle your cheek, thumb dragging across the skin there tenderly, "I'd like to drive you home, if you'll allow me."
The leather seats of Jungkook's car were a warm contrast to the cold November air when you climbed into the passenger seat half an hour later. By now the sun had fully disappeared behind the horizon, leaving the yellow flicker of the street lights to lead the way.
Jungkook hadn't said much since heading back upstairs to get dressed and comb his hair back. His clothes were now neatly in place, though he had skipped the coat entirely for the sake of the comfortable temperature inside the vehicle. He looks much different from the man you had seen today and there's familiarity in the composed way he holds himself now.
You study the length of his forearm when he pulls out of the driveway, gaze trailing along the tattoos reaching all the way past his knuckles and onto his fingers where they slide across the wheel.
A few minutes pass in silence. The streets are nearly vacant despite it being no later than six thirty and you drive past house after house. Jungkook doesn't need to ask your address anymore, knowing where to take a left without you having to point it out.
It's not until you come to a stop by a red light that he finally speaks. "Principles of Internal Medicine?" His voice is gruff from disuse, inked hand wrapped around the clutch as he sends you a questioning look through the corner of his eye.
It takes you a moment to realize that he was referring to the book he had found — the one that had played such a big part in the events leading you here. You clear your throat, nodding awkwardly as you force yourself to study the blaring red above, wishing it would turn green. "Yeah…" You murmur, "It's study material."
Part of you wonders if bringing the topic up would somehow undo the progress you had made earlier this afternoon. Perhaps he would realize just how grave a mistake this had all been when reminded of the lie you had told him. But Jungkook simply hums, the sound low and almost comforting.
"Med school?" He asks when putting the car in motion as the light shifts.
Nodding, you turn to gaze out through the window, watching the houses disappear one by one as they became replaced with tall apartment complexes. "I'm in my first year," You say, shrugging like it was no matter, when in reality, it couldn't be further from it.
Jungkook makes a right turn, shifting the car's gear when falling smoothly into the new lane. "That's good," He muses, sending you a glance through the corner of his eye, "Do you like it?"
You pause at that, pursing your lips as you thought of how to answer him. In the end you realized that you were tired of lying. "I do. It's my biggest dream." You shyly admit, picking at the seams of your pants gingerly.
In the driver's seat Jungkook is quiet for a while, his attention is fixed on the changing scenery in front of him. When you stop by another red light he sighs, "It's nice, having a dream you can chase, it gives you purpose."
Nails dragging along the fabric clinging to your legs, you frown — not quite sure what to make of that. Jungkook doesn't seem intent on explaining himself further, his focus was on the road, fingers drumming softly against the wheel.
"Did you go to university?" You then ask, turning your head to look at him properly.
The lines on his face hardened slightly at your question, the corner of his mouth tugging downward just enough for it to be noticeable under the street lights that reflected through the windows. "No," He simply says, stepping on the gas lightly when the sign ahead flickers to green.
That surprises you. Jungkook took his own children's education very seriously, you had always imagined him to be at the top of his classes. But he hadn't gone to university at all…? Despite curiosity clawing at you impatiently, you don't continue to prod, choosing to leave the subject alone as the familiar neighborhood you called home floats into vision.
The car comes to a stop just outside the entrance leading you inside. You weren't entirely sure that one was even allowed to park here, but before you can voice your concern, the door to the driver's side shuts and Jungkook is gone.
He rounds the car in a few strides, opening your own door for you, which felt almost a little cheesy — though you don't comment on it when accepting his extended hand and climbing out.
You stand there for a moment, watching a few by-passers who paid you little mind. Jungkook has yet to let go of your hand, you don't acknowledge it. His palm his the warmth that the cold evening lacks and you want to hold on to it, just a little longer.
"I would follow you to the door but…" He jerks his chin in the direction of his car, "I'm not so sure I'm allowed to park here."
The giggle bubbling from your chest is enough to have a nearby lady walking her dog pause, but neither of you spare her a glance. Jungkook's gaze lingers on yours as he watches the grin you're unable to keep from your face. His lip twitches into something that could've almost been mistaken for a small smile, had you not known better.
"I'm sure I'll make it from here," You assure him, eyes dropping to the way his thumb stroked your knuckles.
Jungkook nods slowly, still holding onto you when he should've let go already. The crease between his brows had eased up and under the gentle glow of the street lights he looks younger — reminiscent of a time you had never experienced with him.
He sighs, nodding to himself as he lets his hand drop. "Goodnight then," He says, and for a second you could've sworn he wanted to close the distance again.
Your laughter has ebbed out into a small smile. You didn't want the night to end, it feels like it had barely started before getting robbed from your grasp again. Yet you take a small step back, sending him a timid wave, "Goodnight."
Turning to walk inside, you try to ignore the weight of his gaze on your back when you fumble with your keys, unlocking the heavy door that would take you into the large building.
With your fingers wrapped around the handle, you dare steal a final glance over your shoulder.
Jungkook is leaned against the side of his car, arms folded across his chest where he regards you from across the pavement. It was impossible to make out his expression from this far away — but you would like to imagine that he was smiling too.
── [ ✉️ ] If you caught a spelling mistake actually let me know, like, but in private so to not ruin my sexy mysterious and prolific image of course... Yes, please share your thoughts with me, I love to read them <3
𓄲 In order to spice up your sex life — your boyfriend proposes making a sextape.
전정국 x f!reader ˖ ࣪ ꉂ🗯˙‹— cw no plot, just pure filth dom!jk camera usage during sex spanking multiple positions (doggy style + missionary) unprotected sex + pullout cumming on stomach pet names (angel, love) dirty talk
⧽ word count ⋮ 1.4k
"Yeah. C'mon, just like that, angel."
Jungkook's voice is a rough, breathless whisper somewhere behind you. His eyes bore into your backside, and you don't even have to turn around to know that he was wearing a pleased smirk, probably had his bottom lip trapped between his teeth too.
Shifting nervously on the mattress, your fingers curl around the sheets just a little tighter. "A-are you sure? I'm not... I don't know if it looks okay." The skimpy lingerie you were wearing did little to hide anything from view, the fluffy edge of the sheer robe ending just above the curve of your ass. Legs awkwardly spread, you felt more exposed than ever as you arched your back just a tad.
Behind you, Jungkook lets out a groan of barely restrained desire. "Fuck. No, it's perfect." He exhales, "Just perfect."
The floorboards creak when he takes a step closer, the bed dipping as he climbs onto it. "You're gorgeous, angel." He murmurs, calloused hand sliding across the bare skin of your ass where he gives it a rough squeeze. Your stomach clenches as you glance at him over your shoulder, watching as he tilts the camera to get a better shot of the ass he loved to smack.
It had been your boyfriend's idea to film you in the bedroom. He'd brought it up so casually over dinner that night and you had nearly dropped your fork at his words.
"I want to film you, us." Jungkook had hummed as he swallowed down a bite of his food. After a moment's silence he'd then added, "In the bedroom."
"What? Like- like a sextape?"
Jungkook's lip had twitched, his dark eyes gleaming with the kind of mischief you knew all too well. "Yeah." Slicing the knife through the steak you'd spent hours cooking, he shrugged, "A sextape. I still have that camera you got me for my birthday. Consider it a late present."
That's how you'd found yourself on all fours in nothing but a sheer robe, sweat beading on your forehead as your boyfriend circled you with the same camera you had once thought to be a nice gift. He'd gotten a handful of solo shots, all with you beautifully arched and dripping for him. But it didn't seem like nearly enough.
"Shit, angel. All this for me hm?" Jungkook drawls as he slides one hand between your legs, two fingers dragging across your weeping cunt as he spreads your arousal all over yourself, rubbing teasingly at your clit in order to catch the lewd moan you give on film. "Such a pretty pussy," He coos. "And it's all mine."
His hand pulls back to rest on your hip, you almost want to whine at the loss of his touch. But it's quickly replaced by the head of his cock as Jungkook slides himself through your folds once, twice, before gently pushing inside.
You cry out at the familiar stretch, legs spreading even wider and your head tipping back just a fraction. Behind you, Jungkook chuckles, the sound rumbling in his chest as he begins to fuck you lazily.
You could tell that his attention was split between the sight of you and the camera he still held in one hand as he tried to frame a perfect shot. "Look at you, taking my cock so well." His hand leaves your hip only to land on your ass in a firm smack that makes you gasp. "That's it..." He rubs at the tender flesh gently.
He continues to take you from behind a moment longer, and you can practically feel the camera on you as it absorbs everything happening in grainy quality. Jungkook's hips snap against yours, the sound of skin smacking together echoing throughout your dimly lit bedroom. That was new too, you would always do it with the lights off, but your boyfriend had insisted on lighting a candle or two. "Won't show up on the film otherwise," He'd said.
Jungkook pulls out with a small hiss a second later, grunting out a short command. "Turn over." The unfamiliar tone of pure dominance he used made you clench around nothing and you scramble to oblige.
Back against the headboard, your wide eyes finally meet the camera. "Say hi, angel." Your boyfriend hums as he caresses your cheek with the back of his hand.
Swallowing, you give a faint nod. "Hi..." Ignoring the way your face heats up as you fight to avert your gaze.
Jungkook chuckles, lips tugging into a smirk as his eyes roam your figure. Then he's handing you the camera, "Hold this for me."
The camera is heavy in your palm, fingers curling tightly around it as you bring it up to capture your boyfriend. Jungkook is sitting back on his haunches, inked hand wrapped around his cock as he jerks himself off languidly. "You gettin' that shot, love?"
Nodding quietly, you look on unapologetically as he gets off in front of you. A small squeak slips past your unguarded lips when he suddenly leans forward, large hands spreading your thighs as he slots himself between them. "Make sure to get this," He murmurs as he angles himself against your wet cunt.
Doing as he says, you tilt the camera down enough to frame the way his cock slowly pushed back inside of you, a shuddering exhale pulling its way from your throat. "Jungkook..." You sigh, not knowing what you were trying to say as pleasure overtakes you completely.
"That's it, angel. Let me feel how much you want this."
Jungkook was not one for dirty talk, but something about the camera being on had apparently spiked something in him. With the way he was fucking you now? You weren't complaining.
His hands settle on your hips, pulling you down on his cock as he groans. From there he picks up his pace, letting himself get lost in the familiar sensation of your cunt wrapped around him as he throws his head back.
Despite being almost entirely blissed out, you still manage to lift the camera enough to capture his expression. The way his eyebrows pinched together, his jaw slacked as he panted softly and his eyes screwed shut in pleasure. A shudder runs through him when your fingers reach out, nails scraping down his chest teasingly.
"H-ah, fuck," He exhales, head lolling forward at the feeling. "Do that again."
Only when your hands start to tremble and your grip on the camera loosens as your orgasm approaches does he take over again. You barely notice the camera being stolen from between your fingers as Jungkook flips it back around on you. "Fuck. You gonna cum for the camera?"
Nodding fervently, you reach for his shoulders as Jungkook pushes even deeper into your cunt. "Come on, give it to me. Please." He breathes, and you could tell by the stutter in his pace that he, too, was close.
With a small cry you clench around him, cunt fluttering as your orgasm pulsates through you in a way it never had before. And Jungkook makes sure to capture each moment, still fucking you relentlessly as he brings the camera closer to your joint bodies. His thumb comes up to rub at your clit, milking out the last bit of your climax as he forces another moan out of you.
When you're left a trembling mess he finally pulls out. His grip on the camera is shaky and he tilts it down to showcase himself as he jerks off roughly, wrist flicking over his tip with a strained curse.
A second later he's cumming onto your stomach, hot spurts of release landing on your feverish skin, followed by your boyfriend's pornographically loud groan. "Fuck—" Jungkook hisses. He's panting heavily, bringing the camera down to make a spectacle out of the way he'd just ruined you.
"Look at that", he coos, thumb swiping through his own release before bringing the finger to your lips. You don't have to be told twice, mouth opening to invite him in as your tongue swirls around the digit, tasting him with a satisfied hum.
Jungkook inhales sharply, camera forgotten about when he leans in to seal you in a kiss. "Told you it'd be hot", he murmurs against your lips, "Now I have something to watch when you're not around."
➥ SUMMARY: In which your annoying neighbor—that you can’t stand—turns out to be the person behind the online account you’ve been sexting. You still don’t know his name.
➥ CATEGORY: mini three-shot
➥ WARNINGS: explicit sexual content, spanking, spitting, facefucking, brat taming, face slapping, overstimulation, unprotected sex (THIS IS REALLY DUMB DONT DO IT), creampie, degradation, praise, name calling (slut/bitch 😵💫 first time a man calls a woman a bitch in my fics but i felt like it fit in this IDK?) choking, kissing (kind of … pining???!!??) oral sex (m & f rec.), minors DNI
➥ WORDCOUNT: 8.6k
a/n: the finale is here😘😘 sorry it took so long! i hope u enjoy nonetheless 🫶🏽🫶🏽🫶🏽
make sure to check out eli’s version too!
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#3 — “game on” [finale]
There he is, obstructing your view completely.
Considering his raw beauty, one might argue that he is the view.
Arms outstretched above his head, hands resting against the doorframe as he looks down at you. With his arms raised like this, you can smell his deodorant. He smells quite nice.
Looks like he’s caging you. Keeping you trapped. Like the villain in a video game with outstanding graphics. You understand people who have a crush on animated characters because he looks ethereal.
The teasing glint in his eyes matches the mischievous one in yours. Like a dance battle that’s been going on for ages and you’re getting closer and closer to the finale. You can basically taste it.
It’s quiet for a few moments aside from your synced breathing. Neither of you seem to be willing to speak.
That is, until you realize that it’s ass o’clock and time isn’t exactly on your side. The decision to break the ice follows you swiftly. “Do you really have no respect for your fellow tenants?”
Acting like you don’t know why he’s here is the only way you can deal with the pounding muscular organ in your chest. It’s pumping blood to the rest of your body at immense speed, heating up your entire body in the process.
But you asked for this. You asked what the hell he was waiting for.
And it’s clear he was waiting on you.
He tilts his head to the side. Stifles a smirk. Raises an eyebrow. Shrugs his shoulders. He looks so smug. You want to punch him.
He clears his throat and looks around the corridor nonchalantly before he decides to give you an answer. “I have a lot of respect for my fellow tenants, actually. I just don’t see you as one.”
Your eyes pingpong between his from left to right, mesmerized by the big black tapioca pearls above his flushed cheeks that are intently staring you down.
“What do you see me as, then?” you ask, quietly yet as bitchy as you can. Arms crossed over your chest. Impatiently tapping your foot against the floor which creates a ticking sound, much like a clock.
Like he’s losing time and once the clock goes off, it’s game over. So much for a Gameboy.
His tongue peeks out from the corner of his mouth and swipes along his bottom lip, toying with his glistening lip rings for a moment.
If that was an attempt to get you to stare at his lips, he succeeded. Weak!
Staring at his lips throws you into a trance and you really wonder what it would be like to have those pressing down on yours. Shut you up. Make you melt into him.
“Granny. Annoying. Loud-mouth. Obnoxious. Rude,” he lists. Your eyes squint at him but before you can even respond, he cuts you off. “Spoiled brat that needs to be put in her place.”
Never mind.
You want to kill him.
You bring your shoulders up in an unbothered shrug. “Bet you won’t.”
Your witty words make him stare at you for a moment longer before he drops his head and humorlessly chuckles, shaking it in disbelief and bouncing his shoulders at that which he finds humorous.
You know he likes it, though.
He raises his head again. Stares at you. Drops his eyes to your pretty lips. Trails your lipline. Lets his gaze linger on your cupid’s bow. Shifts his eyes back to your feigned innocent eyes.
The simple act of his eyes never leaving you has your body heating up. As if lava is pumping through your veins. As if his body is pressed up right against yours. As if every small move you make is equal to putting a handful of sand in your mouth whilst you’re standing underneath the scorching hot sahara desert sun.
“Are you challenging me?” he asks, voice low as if he’s worried other people will hear him.
Ah.
There it is.
The first between you two to acknowledge what’s really going on.
You figured it’d be him anyway.
Now it’s your turn to acknowledge it.
“Not a challenge,” you answer with a slight shake to your head. “An invitation,” you clarify, mischievous eyes still glued to his figure. Consent comes first, after all.
The staring competition lasts just a little while longer. He then straightens his back and drops his hands from the frame of your door. Wastes no time stepping into your apartment. Shuts the door behind him with his foot.
Or at least that’s what you think because the speed in which he lunges at you makes you unsure of anything happening right now.
The momentum of his lunge at you knocks you back but he’s not letting you get away that easily.
One of his hands rests on the back of your head as his lips press down on yours like two magnets finding solace with each other. Your own hand slithers up his chest, nails digging into his shoulder. Some in the fabric of his shirt, some in his burning skin.
No matter how cool he plays it, he’s burning up much like you are.
He keeps walking, backing you further into your apartment until you’re pressed up against a wall. Trapped. Caged.
His tattooed fingers drape around your neck, pulling you closer to his body, closing the gap. Squeezes your throat like he’s afraid you’re going to somehow vanish into thin air.
He presses his lips down on yours even harder. Rougher. Uses his other hand to squeeze your hip. Grunts against your mouth.
Your other hand travels up his body to his bicep. Rests there. Squeezes. His arm is rock hard.
His lips parting makes you copy him, welcoming his tongue into your mouth. His wet muscle massages against yours, rough and needy. He tastes like mint. Must be his toothpaste.
He slowly starts pushing you towards your room and you assume he knows where it is because it’s the same layout as his apartment.
He pushes you until your calves hit the side of your bed. Makes you fall down. You grip his shirt to pull him down with you. He’s on top of you in no time.
He kisses you like he’s got somewhere to be. Pulls his tongue back just to mumble something. You don’t quite understand.
“Hm?” you hum, encouraging him to repeat himself.
He pulls back. “Safeword,” he mumbles again before pecking your lips once more, eyes glued to your mouth.
You stare at him as he pecks your lips continuously, your eyes so big and doe-like. “Uh…” You’re not sure what kind of a safeword would work. Your mind is blank.
He whispers, “Just say something. Anything.”
Anything?
“Butterfly.”
Butterfly? Really? Couldn’t come up with anything else?
“Butterfly?” he echoes.
“Butterfly,” you repeat.
He nods in confirmation and travels his hand down to your hip, dangerously close to the curve of your ass as he presses his lips against yours again in a hungry kiss.
All he needs is a little push.
You give him the little push.
Your hand reaches for your hip, shoving his palm further down your back until it’s resting on your ass.
You pull back from the kiss this time. “You wanna know my safeword but you still don’t know my name.”
He pinches his brows together. Stares at your lips. Looks like he wants to do nothing more than kiss you for years on end.
He brings his shoulders up in a nonchalant shrug. “I like calling you Angel.”
Ah.
Your own eyes drop down to his lips, black pupils trailing his wide cupid’s bow that’s begging to be kissed. “Thought it didn’t make any sense to you.” Your eyes shoot back up to look him dead in the eye. “You know, because I’m far from being angelic?”
He stares at you for a few seconds. Maybe half a minute. Intense eyes pingpong-ing back and forth between your own as if the answers to what goes on in your brain is written in them.
He slowly starts to nod his head. Scrunches up his nose for a split second before he tears his eyes away from you to stare at the wall in your room, at nothing in particular. It’s only then that you notice that he’s been closing the gap between your bodies and you’re only noticing due to the body heat radiating off of him.
He turns his head back to face you but avoids your eyes. Instead he tilts his head down, presses his lips against your neck in a soft kiss. He licks. Nips. Sucks. “Hm. I quite like contradictions, though,” whispers Gameboy.
You’re not sure what he means by it.
“Contradictions?” you echo as you tilt your head to the side, granting him more access to any skin he desires. You try to keep yourself from moaning but to no avail, so your new goal is to not be embarrassed by your heavy breathing and quiet moaning.
“Hm,” he hums in confirmation. All it does is send a shiver down your spine and makes your thighs clench. “You’re my favorite contradiction. Wanna give you nothing yet everything at the same time.”
You can’t help but roll your eyes dramatically, in hopes that he won’t be able to tell how that confession made your heart drum out of control in your chest. You can’t stand how he always knows what to say to get a reaction out of you.
You inquire, “What’s that even supposed to mean?”
“It means,” he abruptly pauses as he pushes himself off you, resting his ass on his heels. His hands wrap around the back of your knees, adding strength to push them all the way to your chest. Has you almost folded up into a human pretzel.
“Hey, I have joints!” You try to sound angry but you’re barely fighting back. Way to stand your ground.
“It means that I want to fuck the shit out of you but I also don’t want to give you the satisfaction.” He angles his hips in a way that makes his pelvis grind right into yours. It’s hard to ignore the rock hard boner rubbing against your sex and you’ve never hated wearing clothes more than you do at this moment.
“Like so.” He begins to thrust his hips into yours, eyes glued to the way the bulge in his sweatpants rocks against the seam of your leggings that’s located right on top of your pussy.
He starts dry humping you, brows furrowed in concentration. Sinks his teeth into his bottom lip. Finally looks into your eyes. “The only thing a slut like you deserves.”
Oh.
“Don’t you agree?” he whispers, eyes shifting up to yours—finally. Bottom lip still trapped between his teeth and cheeks tinted crimson.
He looks unreal. Ethereal.
A soft moan bubbles up the back of your throat at the sensation and it escapes your mouth before you can catch it.
But his words don’t slip your mind.
You squint your eyes at him. “Fuck you.”
Yeah, sure… that’ll show him.
It happens so fast. You don’t even realize it happened until after your lips have started stinging and a gasp has unintentionally ripped through your throat.
Did he just… slap your mouth?
He did.
Your hooded eyes shoot open and your brows pinch together, unable to ignore the tingle on your lips from the smack he’s left behind on them.
“You think you’re in any position to run your mouth, you stupid brat?” He doesn’t wait for a response from you and simply shoves his thumb past your lips, confident that you’ll happily welcome it.
Unfortunately, you do.
You welcome the tip of his thumb into your mouth, eyes still piercing into his. His eyebrow twitches when you swirl your tongue around it. Gently suck on it. Quietly moan at it.
His eyes stay glued to your face and he can’t seem to decide what he wants to focus on. Your pretty eyes that are lost in his as if you’re the most innocent creature on Earth or your pouty lips that are beautifully wrapped around the tip of his thumb like you’re the sluttiest whore with his dick in your mouth.
Either way, you’re a complete contradiction. How you manage to look so innocent yet so seductive seems like a mystery to him.
One he intends to solve.
He pulls his thumb out of your mouth with a loud pop and places his hands next to each side of your head.
He continues to dry hump you at the same pace but the strength behind his thrusts has changed. He’s snapping his hips so hard into yours that it makes your entire frame jerk from the momentum every time your bodies collide.
He grunts quietly. Shakes his head. “Shit, shit.” His eyes drop down to your lips for a few seconds before back into your eyes. “I need to fuck you.”
Dry humping you for barely 2 minutes and he’s already going back on his word?
You can’t help but provoke him. “I thought you said a slut like me didn’t deserve that? I could be wrong.”
He rolls his tongue against the inside of his cheek, deeply contemplating something as his teeth pick at the loose flesh on his lips. After a few more seconds of mindlessly staring at you, he pushes himself off you. He gets up before he straightens his back and hoists you up, pulling you off the bed and onto your feet in one swift move.
He doesn’t even need to ask.
You instantly drop to your knees, eyes staring up at him.
He taps your chin with his finger. “Always running your dumb mouth. You know what happens to stupid girls that don’t know when to shut the hell up?”
Before you can give one of your smartass answers, his hand wraps around your jaw and grips it tightly to make you look up at him. You simply blink at him, as innocently as you can.
“They get their face fucked.”
Oh.
The only way to describe what you’re feeling is what you imagine a hot spear shooting down your core would feel like. Leaves behind a warm tingle pooling in your lower belly.
Your hands don’t waste any time as they travel up his thighs and your thumbs tuck under the waistband of his sweats. You flutter your lashes at him in hopes of getting permission to undress him.
He licks his lips and nods his head, watching you intently as you start tugging his sweats down.
You were right, you know. He really wasn’t wearing any underwear.
As you pull the hem down, the black markings come into view.
Your username.
Fuck.
He really is him.
Your eyes glance up at him and he’s already staring at you.
You tug his sweats further down, only to be almost slapped in the face with his dick. A quiet gasp of surprise escapes your mouth as you eye the view in front of you.
It’s exactly as it is in the videos and pictures he sends you.
You stare at it in awe, mouth already salivating.
He wraps his hand around the shaft and taps the tip of his dick against your lips. “Open.”
In the instance that you part your lips, he shoves his shaft right into your mouth without a single warning whilst cradling the back of your head to keep you still.
He doesn’t seem to care about your poor throat as he starts thrusting into it as if he’s got something to prove to the universe.
Saliva drips down your chin and onto your chest, staining your Power Puff girl shirt with dots of spit. Quiet gags resound in the back of your throat as Gameboy continues to push your head further down his shaft.
“Only fucking way to shut you up, isn’t it?” he grunts, the tip of his dick repeatedly slamming against the back of your throat and soft palette.
After a few more rough thrusts, he pulls out of your mouth and tugs your head back by the roots on your cranium to make you look up at him. You gasp for air, not paying any mind to how messy you must look right now.
He simply leans forwards, eyebrows pinched together as his tapioca pearls scan your face in a matter of milliseconds. “You okay?” he whispers, loosening his grip on your cranium and instead softly stroking it.
You blink in confusion at him. You’ve definitely never heard him sound that gentle when addressing you. Maybe only when addressing Bam.
But you quickly realize he’s genuinely just making sure you’re okay so far and whether you have any trouble with how rough he’s being.
With an eager nod of your assurance, he cockily chuckles. “That’s a good girl, isn’t it?” he slyly says before gathering saliva onto his tongue and spitting it out right on top of yours.
He straightens his back again before shoving his dick right back into your wet mouth. Makes him groan. Curse. Twitch on your tongue.
You happily keep your mouth wide open for him and his pleasure, fluttering your pretty lashes up at him. Your eyes blink back the tears repeatedly, almost like they’re trying to snap a photograph of this moment right now. Wanting to commit it all to memory. Wanting to commit him to memory.
“Fuck,” he grunts, “mouth so fucking good. ‘S why I prefer a brat that doesn’t know when to shut up.” His eyes are instantaneously on yours, black and hungry.
You can imagine, to be honest. All that shit-talking you were doing has brought you here. On your knees. Choking on a wet dick that you’ve been dreaming about.
You don’t think you could be any happier than you are at this moment.
“Gonna spill in your mouth,” he moans, hips never faltering in speed and precision.
Every time you open your eyes, you see your own username in faded black marker, right in front of your nose. Like you’ve been branded on him. Like he’s yours and yours only.
With your chest tightening at the pleasure you’re experiencing by giving him pleasure, the way he slips out of your mouth almost goes unnoticed by you.
He taps his dick against your tongue before reaching for your hand and leading it to his shaft. It takes you a few seconds to realize what he wants. He wants you to jack him off until he cums.
You wrap your hand around his shaft and aim the tip of his angry dick at your open mouth, eager to catch his cum on your tastebuds.
His eyes are staring you down so intently that it almost makes you choke on air. Luckily, you’re not a little bitch. You keep holding onto the eye contact like the little brat you are, though, defiant and stubborn.
He scrunches his nose up. Twitches his lips. Stifles a smirk. “Just like that, Angel.”
You keep your mouth open, tongue poking out past your lips. A slight shift on your knees makes you hyper aware of the wetness pooling in your panties.
Shit, you’re really turned on.
“Fuck,” he whispers, “gonna cum.” It doesn’t take long after for his dick to start twitching in your hand. Even less when ropes of his cum start shooting out of his dick, loud groans accompanying the wet sounds your hand makes whilst sliding up and down his soaking shaft.
More curses spill from his lips, eyes trying so hard to stay open and watch himself cum all over your tongue and chin.
With your head tilted and a shit-eating grin on your lips, you continue to milk him of every single drop until he squirms from the overstimulation.
You drop your hand from his shaft and bring your other hand to wipe your chin free of the saliva mixed with cum. His semen glides down your esophagus with a big gulp.
“Shit.” He throws his head back and runs his hands through his black locks. “Didn’t think I’d cum that fast.”
His eyes trail back to you, taking in the way you’re elegantly sitting on your knees, ass perked up on the back of your feet.
“I suppose you really are just all talk,” you quip, a smug grin tugging on the corner of your lips.
The goosebumps on the upper layer of your skin make an appearance when his hand wraps around your throat and squeezes it once. Twice. He bends over. Presses his lips to yours in a quick kiss. Messy. Hungry.
His tattooed hand abandons your throat to hoist you up by your biceps. He starts pushing you towards your bed until you fall back, cranium sinking into your soft pillows.
He rids himself of his tank top and yanks it across your room, not caring where it ends up before diving into your bed with you. Your thighs spread on their own accord, ready to let Gameboy do whatever he wishes.
His tongue makes an appearance as he swipes it along his bottom lip, eyeing the seam in your leggings. It makes his lip rings flick up. Makes your leggings more damp than they already are.
The slightest bit of pressure against your clothed pussy makes you jerk your hips up into his knuckles, the ones he was using to rub up and down your sex.
“You’ve soaked through your leggings,” he comments. “Got that wet from letting me use your dumb mouth, did you?”
His eyes flicker up to yours, the pad of his thumb still rubbing up and down your sex. You suppose he’s checking to see if you’re going to be a smartass about it or not.
You are.
“I got that wet from the thought of you ruining me and fucking me until I’m stupid like you said you would, but in all honesty, I think I might be falling asleep.”
Well.
The simple exhale that leaves his nostrils can only be described as a quick snort as his hand abandons your pussy in its time of need. You’re a second away from whining about it but Gameboy is quicker than you.
Tucks his fingers under the hem of your leggings. Yanks them down your legs. Doesn’t care that he tore the inseam of your leggings.
“Hey! You’re buying me a new pair!” You don’t really care that he tore them, you have a stockpile of these leggings that you could clothe a whole village with. You just want to be annoying.
He simply raises his finger to his lips, wordlessly telling you to be quiet.
You lie there, confused. Legs spread. The only thing covering your attention-seeking pussy is the pathetic cotton panties that, by now, have completely been soaked by your arousal.
When you take another breath to speak up, he brings his palm down.
Smack!
“Ow!” Your hips jerk up off the bed once his palm comes in contact with your poor pussy.
Either you’re trippin’ off the hardest acid right now or he actually just spanked your vagina.
“I told you to be quiet.”
It simply earns him a glare but that doesn’t matter to him. The corners of his lips curl up and before you know it, his head dives down your body.
But what you don’t expect is his hands wrapping around the back of your knees and pulling you downwards so your back lies flat on the mattress as he settles in between your thighs, mouth pressed against the sticky fabric of your panties.
You’re barely able to get out a moan before he starts sucking on your sex through your panties, his eyes closed in concentration. He nudges your clit with his round nose. Does it again when you let out a moan that’s sweeter than the bottom of a bag of candy.
He pulls away which almost makes you whine but you clamp your mouth shut when he tucks his fingers under the hem of your panties. Glances at you through his brows.
You keep your bottom lip trapped between your teeth as he slowly starts sliding your panties down your legs, his eyes instantly glued to the faded black markings on your pelvis which spells out his username.
He tosses your panties aside and spreads your thighs by your knees again. His black irises stay glued to your soaking wet pussy, tongue darting out to wet his lips.
“Even prettier than I remember.” He lowers himself again. Wastes no time attacking your swollen clit with his angry tongue.
You reach for his hair, gently tugging on it with your fingers to pull him closer to where you want him. He obeys, burying himself in your sex with his entire face. Shakes his head to give you extra friction. Nudges your clit with his nose.
Your hips involuntarily jerk upwards but it doesn’t phase him in the slightest. He just continues to suck and lick at your pussy like a man starved.
Lying under him now is surreal. After all those months of talking to him, it’s hard to believe you’re in this position right now.
What’s even harder to believe is that he’s here.
That it’s him.
Him, of all people.
Your rude neighbor with a lack of manners and decency.
But for some reason, this makes it even more… satisfying?
He drags you out of your thoughts when he wraps his lips around your clit and pushes two of his fingers into you, creating gushing sounds that only further embarrass you.
He slurps, sucks, nips, licks. Looks up at you. Winks. Smirks.
The cold metal of his lip rings against your hot skin makes a shiver travel up your spine. Summons goosebumps on the upper layer of your skin. He notices. It makes him chuckle. The air from his exhale fans over your pussy. Gets you excited and whiny all over again.
“Shit, you taste way too good for a brat.” He uses both his thumbs to gently spread your folds apart to take in the beauty that is your soaking sex before pressing a soft kiss to your hole and shoving his tongue inside.
“F–fuck!” you cry out as he starts fucking his tongue in and out of you, nose nudging your clit and one thumb circling the rim of your asshole. It makes the all too familiar knot in your stomach slowly form.
“I’m gonna,” you pause, “cum.”
He doesn’t seem to care, though.
Because right as the knot threatens to snap, Gameboy pulls away. Stares you down as your arousal drips off his chin. He wipes his mouth and chin with the back of his hand. The nonchalance he exudes while he does so makes you glare at him.
At least, to the best of your abilities, that is.
You’re a bit fucked out. Can’t feel your toes and your ears are ringing.
“Sluts like you don’t deserve to cum so quick,” murmurs Gameboy as he starts tugging at the hem of your shirt, the only fabric that still covers your body.
“But Jay!” you whine but he simply cuts you off by spanking your poor pussy again. You cry out. Your body jerks. It makes him huff in arrogance.
He adds, “Shut up and do as I say for once.”
You angrily huff as you yank the shirt off and toss it aside, somewhere on the floor near the pile of clothes. This allows your breasts to bounce free and his eyes are almost bursting out of their sockets as he takes the sight in.
His hands reach over your chest before his eyes peek up at yours, waiting for any sign of approval or permission. You reach out to his hands and bring them down to your breasts, wordlessly telling him there’s nothing more you’d want than this.
Even though he just came, he’s already sporting a semi hard-on from eating you out. The moment his hands grope your breasts, a soft groan leaves his throat. He can’t seem to stop staring at them. “Holy shit,” he mumbles, continuing to grope and massage them.
He gently pinches your nipples. Leans down and takes one into his mouth. Sucks with as much fervor as he can muster.
Several moans spill from your lips as he continues and the inflating dick against your thigh doesn’t go unnoticed by you. You hate to admit it but it boosts your ego to the max.
You hate it because men will fuck a hole in a tree. They get turned on by anything. But in this moment, you know that Gameboy wants you as bad as you want him and you can’t wait until he finally does what he came here to do.
“Fuck me,” you whimper, “fuck me, please.”
He raises his head, letting go of your breast with a loud pop as he stares you down. “Oh, wow. Where’s all that attitude? You finally starting to fall off your high horse?” He sounds so full of mockery when he says these things but you don’t care anymore.
If he doesn’t fuck you this instance you might die.
“No, bozo. I’m waiting to see what you’ve got in store. It seems like you keep delaying it because you can’t back your talk,” you reply almost right away.
Almost as soon as the words leave your lips, he slaps you on the mouth again. This time with a little more force that makes your lips tingle with a stinging sensation.
It makes you gasp. Not in surprise but in bliss. You only run your mouth to have him put you in your place. It’s too good of a feeling to know that you can get under his skin like this.
He stares at you with a look in his eyes that you can only describe as a combination of disbelief and amusement. “You’ve always got something to say, don’t you?” he mumbles as he reaches for his pants and rummages through its pockets before returning his attention to you.
You stare at the golden item in his hands. A condom.
Ain’t nobody got time for that.
You don’t even hesitate when you reach out, snatch it out of his hands and toss it to the floor.
It’s almost like he expected you to do that when his chest rumbles as he chuckles. You glance at him with such a desperate look in your eye and you think this time it might’ve worked.
Because he slowly pushes your thighs back and uses one hand to position his already hard dick by your pussy, rubbing it up and down your disgustingly soaked slit.
“You’ve got me dripping with precum, I hope you know that,” he quietly says. Slaps his dick onto your slit a few times. Moves it to the side as he purses his lips to let a drop of his saliva drop down onto your pussy, watching it dribble down your folds. “Fuck.”
Your teeth sink down into your bottom lip as you watch him go to work, the perfect view in front of you. You can see his concentrated face, his glorious body and your own pussy seconds away from a good pounding.
“Ready?” he whispers, eyes shooting up to yours and they’ve got the same twinkle as when he asked whether you were okay during the throatfucking.
You quickly nod and look back down at your sexes, eagerly waiting for him to finally push into you.
And he does.
He slowly starts to enter you, hips moving at a pace that makes you want to scream your head off.
You’re impatient but you know it’s best for your own good.
“Fuck. So fuckin’ tight,” he whispers as he pushes even more until he’s filled you up completely. Your walls uncomfortably stretch around him but you simply welcome the burn as you reach out to his shoulders and pull him closer to you.
He closes the gap between you two and instantly connects his lips to yours, kissing you so roughly that it takes you by surprise considering how gentle his lower body is treating yours.
After a few more seconds of making out, which ultimately helped you relax, you tap his shoulder and mumble the word “move” against his lips.
He hears you loud and clear.
Slowly starts rocking his hips into yours and it makes you moan into his mouth. He simply swallows your moans, licking into your mouth to steal every single sound you make.
You wrap your legs around his waist in hopes of pulling him even closer to you. Your hands cup his face as you slowly pull away from the kiss to look into his eyes.
He returns the eye contact whilst his hips increase in speed and power.
“Do you have other girls?” you manage to ask in between thrusts, eyes still boring into his. You’re not sure why you’re asking him this but you also can’t help but ask.
He stares you down in silence for a few moments before pulling away and straightening his back. He pulls out of you and pushes all the way back in as he holds your thighs apart.
“I have a bunch.” He starts thrusting into you with such speed that it makes your entire body jerk from the momentum, giving him a perfect view of your bouncing breasts. “How about you focus on being my favorite?”
Oh.
That’s all it takes to shut you up as he starts rubbing your clit with one thumb, trying to get you to the edge before he robs you of your orgasm again.
Not to mention the speed at which he fucks you in is borderline animalistic.
Damn. You must’ve really pissed him off.
He drills so deep into you that the sensation in your lower gut is indescribable. You subconsciously stretch out your arm, pressing your hand flat into his lower abdomen in hopes of getting him to slow down.
It means nothing to him, though.
He continues to pound into you, ignoring your hand begging for mercy as he grunts quietly. “Fuckin’ hate how beautiful you are, Angel.”
Clench.
“You like that, huh?” he huffs, one hand wrapping around the back of your thigh and the other slapping your hand away from his stomach. Gives you no choice but to take the pounding like a good girl. “Tightening around me like you’re trying to squeeze my fuckin’ dick off.”
All you can do is fight the moan that’s sliding up your esophagus as you bite into the back of your hand in hopes of swallowing your moans, eyes tightly shut to concentrate.
But he doesn’t like that.
His hand comes down on your jaw in a firm tap. “Look at me.”
You crack your eyelids open just to be blessed with the view of him and his hair sticking to his forehead from the thin layer of sweat it has produced.
“That all you got?” you taunt, referring to the soft slap he delivered to your face just now, if it even can be called that.
He stares at you with a slight squint in his eyes before he chuckles and this time, puts more force behind his slap.
Your face jerks to the side and your cheek tingles from the faint pain. It makes you clench around his shaft in pure ecstasy.
But then it all happens really fast.
He pulls out of you and in one motion, you’re on your stomach. By the time you look over your shoulder, Gameboy has positioned himself onto your ass before pushing into your gushing pussy from behind.
Lying flat on your stomach with your legs pressed together only makes him rub up against your walls even more, allowing you to feel and be able to map out all the veins and ridges on his dick.
The warmth that fans over your ear only suggests that he’s right next to your face, breathing heavily down your neck and collarbones.
“Where’d all that shit talking go?” he whispers quietly, lips pressed against the shell of your ear as his inked hand wraps around your throat from behind.
You try to answer but to no avail, the speed and power he uses to fuck you with has you sounding incoherent and absolutely stupid.
“Look at you now, all fucked out,” he adds, the shit-eating smirk present in his tone.
You slightly turn your head to be able to look at him, brows furrowed together and your mouth dropped open.
His eyes shift to your face and wander all over your desperate features before settling on your eyes again. “God,” whispers Gameboy quietly. “Gonna be the death of me, you are.”
He always knows what to say.
Every.
Single.
Time.
“Kiss me,” you manage to let out without sounding choked.
His eyes slowly drop to your round, pouty lips that shape into an ‘o’. “What’s the magic word, Angel?”
He’s so damn annoying.
“Please,” you say, without hesitation. “Please, kiss me.”
It takes no more than a second before your request has been fulfilled. His pretty lips press onto yours and he wastes no time sneaking his tongue into your mouth.
You continue to moan in desperation and pleasure, allowing him to swallow every last sound that escapes your mouth.
After several moments of kissing, it’s only then that you realize he’s no longer thrusting but instead he’s simply nestled deep inside of you and all his focus is on kissing you.
When you pull away from the kiss, it seems like he, too, realizes this. Clears his throat. Hoists himself up.
To your surprise, he yanks your ass up into the air by your hips and presses his hand flat down on your upper back to keep your face down and ass up.
With your burning face buried in the sheets, all you can focus on is your sense of touch and hearing.
A glob of saliva drops onto your pussy. He rubs it in with his dick before slapping it a few times and easing himself in again.
Your back arches from the sensation as you listen to the beautiful, quiet moans spilling from his lips. Makes you realize that his voice box deserves an award. Or a national holiday. You bet he could be famous if he intended to do anything with his voice.
But the moment is flipped onto its head when Gameboy starts thrusting into you like there’s no tomorrow. Like he’s got something to prove to the universe. Like he’s finally getting his long awaited revenge.
Which he is.
And this is precisely what you wanted when you provoked him all those times.
A loud smack rings in your ears and a sharp sting spreading through your asscheek follows right away, earning a cry from you. He spanks you again. And again. And again.
His other hand sneaks around your hip and furiously starts rubbing at your clit, involuntarily making you clench around his shaft that is forcing it’s way into you repeatedly.
“Fuck’s sake,” he grunts as he rocks his hips into yours and watches your bum recoil against him with each thrust.
The stimulation is starting to wear you out. Droplets of sweat roll down your back like shining pearls and your heart pounds in your chest like a drum at a parade.
You reach behind you to press your hand into his lower abdomen again in hopes of being granted his mercy but this time he doesn’t hesitate. He wraps his hand around your wrist and pins it against your lower back.
“Running your fucking mouth and now you think I’ll take it easy on you? Isn’t this what you wanted?” he scoffs as he uses his other hand to grip your hip to smoothly pound into you. “Shut the fuck up and take this pounding like you’re my bitch.”
Oh.
You wish you could rebuttal, you wish you could insult him, say something, anything.
But all that’s leaving your mouth are pathetic moans and cries as your stomach starts tightening and your walls start clenching around him.
“Ah, you liked that, didn’t you? So filthy.” He lets go of your hip and reaches around to start rubbing circles onto your clit again as you shiver and squirm under him. “Just how I like it.”
You can’t even for the words to tell him that you’re seconds away from cumming but it seems like he understands nonetheless because he’s simply shushing you and adding quick “I know, baby”s in a low voice.
Just when you think he’s granting you your much needed orgasm, he abruptly turns you over on your back. Before you have any idea on what’s going on, he has wiggled himself in between your thighs and entered you once again, leaving you no space to even catch your breath.
“Jay–”
“I wanna see your face when you cum,” he tells you as he reaches for your clit to help you reach your orgasm. “You’re so fucking lucky it’s like 3AM. I would’ve fucking edged you for hours on end.”
Ah. Damn it.
You quickly nod your head with your eyes focused on your sex being pummeled. “Fuck, fuck. Please,” you whimper, squirming under his frame which only makes him chuckle.
“Beg, baby,” is all he says.
Fuck.
“Please,” you say, “please, please, please.”
You don’t even know what exactly it is you’re begging for but he knows. He knows because he keeps nodding, has one hand groping your bouncing breast while the other stimulates your clit just the way you like it.
Your stomach soon tightens and it makes the words stutter in your throat. You can’t even make a coherent sentence but all he does is nod his head in understanding.
“You’re creaming all over my shit, you know that?” he groans as he stares at his own dick sliding in and out of your pussy, focusing on all the arousal you’re leaving behind on his shaft like a trail.
“Shit,” you cry as your thighs start to clench and your core starts to burst into flames. Your frame completely shudders under him. The moans and whimpers spilling from your lips are loud yet soft and the feeling is indescribable.
You tightly squeeze your eyes shut as the orgasm washes over your tired body, making you see all the celestial bodies in the universe on the back of your eyelids.
All your nerve endings are set alight and every single hair on your body stands up straight, like a soldier at attention.
His thumb on your clit never falters in speed and precision and his hand has returned to your thigh, firmly holding it in place as he fucks you through your much needed orgasm.
Your chest inflates and deflates dramatically, trying to catch your breath which constantly seems just a millisecond away every time.
He keeps going though, his stamina proving to be S tier.
Clenching all around him and finally reaching your orgasm has his hips slightly stuttering in their rhythm, his dick twitching inside of you. “Fuck. Where do you want it?”
You blink back your tears as you gather your energy to prop yourself up on your elbows. You stare straight at him as he awaits a response.
“I want it all inside.”
That’s all he needs, really.
“I’m cumming soon,” he grunts, unable to steady his heavy breathing like he has up until this point. “Pussy so fuckin’ good, Angel.”
His thrusts are sloppy and imprecise but that just makes him that much hotter. You flick your tongue up on the pad of your thumb and bring it to his nipple as you slightly tease it, rolling the erect nub around under your finger.
His breathing only gets heavier and you’re not helping his case when you continue to clench around him like you’re trying to milk him of every last drop he has to offer.
You are.
“Fuck,” is all he says before dropping his head into the crook of your neck and giving a few powerful thrusts before ropes of his warm cum shoot into you and paint your walls. A loud groan leaving his mouth is cut short when he presses his lips against yours, giving you a heated kiss as he unloads inside of you.
There’s so much cum that a good amount of it spurts out of you with every single thrust he gives you. He quietly moans against your lips when the final drop shoots out of him and straight into you, which only makes you moan back.
Fuck. You really just got creampied by the man whose guts you hate and vice versa. Sexual tension is a bitch.
He continues to kiss you, though, gentle and exhausted like he’s got nowhere to be and only wants to kiss you for hours on end.
You don’t know why but you welcome it with open arms. Wrap your arms around his neck to pull him closer. Tilt your head slightly to deepen the kiss.
The makeout session lasts longer than either of you expected.
Not that anyone is complaining.
Then, you two finally break apart and gasp for air.
He slowly, very slowly pulls out of you. He wraps his hand around your leg to lift it a bit higher up in the air and stares at your ruined sex with his teeth sunken into his bottom lip.
You lie there, staring at him with a quirk in your brow as he gently rubs your inner thighs with his thumb.
It’s quiet.
Really quiet.
Is the post-nut-clarity making him regret everything?
You don’t exactly know how to feel. You don’t regret it. It felt good. You haven’t felt that way in a long time.
Right when you begin to overthink, he asks, “Was I too rough on you?”
You blink at him a few times before shaking your head. “You were perfect.”
The compliment makes the corners of his lips curl up and finally makes his eyes shift to yours. You hadn’t noticed he was avoiding your gaze.
He glances at you for a few moments before springing up from the bed and sliding his sweats back onto his legs. You glare at him from across the room and watch as he exits your room.
You stare at the ceiling in silence. What just happened?
Was this a one time thing? Well, to be fair, you were planning on inviting him to stay an entire week but that was before you even knew who he was.
He’s back a few moments later with a damp towel and approaches you on your bed, gently wiping you clean of his cum. “You should go pee.”
You squint your eyes at him in suspicion but quickly let it go as he’s focused on cleaning you up. “Oh, so, you do have manners after all?”
His eyes immediately shoot up at yours and his hand comes to a halt. When he sees the bratty look on your face, he simply chuckles and shakes his head before returning his attention to your poor sex.
“Can’t fuckin’ stand you,” he mumbles but can’t seem to hide the smile threatening to creep on his lips.
It makes your own lips curl up into a soft smile. “As long as you continue to fuck me like you just did, you don’t have to be able to stand me.”
He uses a dry spot on the towel to dry your skin down a bit before glancing into your eyes. “You intend on doing this again?”
This makes you frown. Makes your heart sink into your stomach. Makes you slowly close your legs and cross your arms over your chest. You don’t know why. Is it shame? Regret? Humiliation? “You don’t?” you ask him, voice suddenly sounding small and uncertain. You hate it.
“100% but I wasn’t sure whether you’d be on board with that.” He gets up from your bed and hands you your underwear. “I thought you’d want to take out your frustrations once and then have it be done with.”
When he sees you not moving, he takes it upon himself to slide your panties onto your legs. Makes you hoist your hips off the bed. Slides them right into place.
There’s a slight pinch of relief in your chest and you deeply exhale. “No.”
He slowly nods his head and awkwardly scratches the back of his head.
It’s the first time you’ve seen him like this.
He’s pretty cute.
“Okay, well,” he mumbles as he looks around your room and picks his clothes up off the floor. “It’s really late. I’ll, uh,” he pauses, “see you tomorrow?”
You blink at him for a few moments and then quietly chuckle. “You can stay the night, you know.”
He raises his eyebrows and runs a hand through his damp hair. You hadn’t noticed how sweaty he’d gotten. “Getting a soft spot for me, are we?”
A deep chuckle rumbles in his chest when he sees the nasty glare you throw his way, along with the pillow next to your head, which he swiftly dodges. “I appreciate the sentiment but Bam’s alone and he has separation anxiety.”
Oh.
Scratch that. He’s really cute.
You can’t help but let a soft smile creep on your lips. “Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He nods his head absentmindedly and slowly starts backing out of your room.
“Wait,” you call out as you sit up straight. You use your sheets to cover your chest in modesty as you watch him come to a halt.
He glances at you over his shoulder, eyebrow quirked.
“You,” you pause, “you still don’t know my name.”
Silence.
He stares at you for a few more moments before chuckling. “I know your name.”
Huh?
“Wh–”
He cuts you off.
With your name.
He just said your name.
You blink in confusion a few times. Swallow thickly as you try to think of a logical reason as to how he could possibly know your name.
Did you somehow tell him and forget? Did he hear Jimin call you by name? Did he ask your landlord?
“How do you know my name?” you quietly ask, gently sucking on your bottom lip in uncertainty. He’s making you doubt your own memory.
He brings his shoulders up in an infuriatingly arrogant shrug. “We live in the same building, babe. All I had to do was look at a letter addressed to your apartment number.”
There’s no way he did that.
Did he actually go out of his way to look up your name? Didn’t he ask you what your name was earlier? Was he testing to see if you were going to lie about it?
He shrugs his shoulders with an air of nonchalance before opening the door to your bedroom. “You can call me Jungkook. Or Jay, I’m not picky.” He steps out and turns to look at you one last time. “As long as it’s my name in your mouth when you spend nights like these.”
And with that, he disappears from your line of vision but reappears in your mind like a tick that has latched itself onto your brain and refuses to leave.
Huh.
Okay. You see how it is.
And now your thoughts are clouded with everything that just happened. His hands on your skin, his lips on yours, his rough pounding on your poor nether regions. You did ask for it after all.
Every time you think about it, you want to scream. You turn your head and whimper into your pillow but every time you do, you smell him. His scent is everywhere. And as much as you hate to admit it, he smells absolutely amazing. You could bury your face in his chest and inhale it for the rest of your eternity.
Your phone buzzing on your nightstand makes you flinch and it sucks you back into reality.
You quickly turn over and reach for your phone before unlocking it and opening up the text conversation with him.
@archurback4me | 4:05AM
Goodnight Angel
And just so you know
I won’t lose to you
You hate how cheesy the smile is that creeps on your lips, internally thanking the Lord that no one is witnessing you and your big goofy smile.
You | 4:07AM
game on, gameboy
⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆
⇠ PREV. ⋆ MASTERLIST ⋆ NEXT ⇢
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— enjoyed it? you can always show your appreciation by buying me some coffee if you want ☕︎♡
summary • 𓂃𝜗𝜚 Jungkook is used to handling the attention that comes with his position, but when paparazzi threaten to get too close to you while pregnant with his baby, his protective nature surfaces.
pairing • 𓂃𝜗𝜚 idol!jungkook x pregnant!reader(f)
word count • 𓂃𝜗𝜚 2.1k
elements • 𓂃𝜗𝜚 pregnancy; protective behaviour; established relationship; kissing; soft; mild possessiveness; daddy-to-be jungkook
author's note • 𓂃𝜗𝜚 Would you believe me if I told you this actually came to me whilst passing a baby section in a shop in the mall?! 🍼 Bear in mind this was off the back of those stunning shots of JK I’ve been seeing on SM for Bazaar 🫦
I’ve never written anything featuring a pregnancy before, so this is a first. Tbh, let’s face it, some of those shots look like they’d make babies anyway right!? 🤭 Ha, don’t let me get carried away, it has been known to happen. I had this thought about how sweet and protective Jungkook would be as daddy-to-be, and so I wrote this cutey little drabble-y thing. I had to make JK a little possessive too, because I like writing him that way 😚! There are too many emoticons in this note to make me seem like a serious writer of any description, but I really hope you enjoy this. As ever, please excuse any errors I may have overlooked.
• 𓂃𝜗𝜚 bts masterlist ( ❛ p a r t • o n e ❜ ) | ( ❛ p a r t • t w o ❜ )
• 𓂃𝜗𝜚 jungkook masterlists ( ❛ p a r t • o n e ❜ ) | ( ❛ p a r t • t w o ❜ )
The first thing Jungkook notices when you step out of the car is that your heels are too high.
His hand closes around your waist before the driver has even shut the door. His palms feel warm through the material of your dress, his grip familiar and welcome. Possessive in that quiet way he gets when he’s worried and trying not to show it.
“You’re wearing those?” he asks, frowning.
You glance down at the heels. “They’re two inches, Koo!”
“They’re weapons.”
You laugh softly. “Against whom?”
“I don’t know, the pavement maybe?”
The flash of cameras erupts before you can formulate a response. A wall of white light slams across the sidewalk, reporters shouting over each other as security parts a path toward the venue entrance.
“Jungkook! Jungkook −over here!”
“How far along is she?”
“Can we get a photo together?”
“Do you know if it’s a boy or girl yet?”
Jungkook’s arm tightens around you instantly protectively, as he dips his head close to your ear. “Stay close,” he tells you. “−On my left okay?”
“I know how red carpets work,” you say, looking up to catch that faint tensing of his jaw.
“Just humour me, please Y/N,” he says, his tone quiet but you hear the sternness behind it. He is taking this pregnancy and your welfare extremely seriously, and your heart surges with affection for him.
His fingers slide lower, spanning carefully across the dip of your lower back, curling around your waist to rest at the gentle curve of your four-month bump, as if reassuring himself that both you and the baby are still there, still real and safe.
The crowd surges forward when you start walking. Security pushes them back, but one photographer leans too far over the barricade and suddenly there’s too much noise, and far too many bodies pressing in at once.
You instinctively flinch, and Jungkook stops immediately. His movement is so sudden that everyone else stumbles around him. His hand comes up behind your neck, shielding you close to his chest while he turns his body between you and the crowd.
“Back up,” he says firmly. The fact that he isn’t loud makes his command effective and the reporters actually quiet for a beat.
You tilt your head up. “It’s okay, Koo.”
“No, it isn’t.”
There’s steel under the softness now −calm, controlled steel. He looks toward security. “Give us space.”
The guards move faster after that, and you can practically feel the tension radiating off him while you continue toward the entrance. His fingers keep moving over your side in gentle caresses unconsciously, grounding himself through touch, reminding you he’s with you.
“You’re glaring at the journalists again,” you whisper.
“No, baby, I’m not,” he denies absently. He’s not really listening, you can tell, his concentration solely on the mission at hand.
“Koo−,” you call, a little more urgently.
In a heartbeat, his attention is on you. “What is it?” he says, sounding panicked as he stops for the second time, worried eyes taking in your face, “−Is it the baby?”
“No!” you hiss, “−Let’s go. Any more stops and something really might go wrong.”
“What is it?” he persists as he resumes guiding you forward. “Did you feel something?”
“Relax,” you say, relief flooding through you as finally you pass through the entrance doors and get safely inside, the flashing lights and noise fading behind you into elegant music, low conversation and warm gold lighting spilling across polished marble floors.
The moment the door shut, and security hurriedly assemble into position, Jungkook leads you away from sight and turns you to him questioningly. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s not the baby, Koo −we’re fine,” you reply. “I just wanted to ask you to smile. You looked like you might kill someone out there.”
Jungkook exhales, and only then do you see his shoulders relax and his hand leaves your waist. “Thank goodness,” he breathes, leaning forward to kiss your brow softly. “I thought for a second that−,” he trails off. “Forget it. We’re here now.”
You let yourself take him in. He looks so handsome in his tailored black suit. Your eyes travel along the sharp line of his jaw, lingering on the glistening ring that adorns his lip, biting back a smile as you imagine how good his mouth feels on you every night.
But then you see the crease between his brows that appears whenever he’s anxious. You pull back a step. “You okay?” you ask.
Jungkook’s eyes drop down to your stomach immediately. “Are you sure you are?”
“Koo, come on −I asked first.”
He reaches for your hand and brings it to his mouth, pressing a kiss against your fingers, his eyes never leaving yours. “You got scared out there.”
“That photographer surprised me, that’s all.”
Jungkook’s face darkens. “He got too close.”
“You can’t fight every person who tries to get too close or annoys you.”
“I can try.”
You smile despite yourself. “Very mature.”
“I’m serious.”
“Yeah, I know,” you concede.
The thing is that you do know. You know him too well. Knew what got under his skin, what hurt him and what angered him.
Jungkook was the kind of man who showed how much he loved you in those small details he so meticulously delivered. Hovering hands near sharp corners, checking if your water is cold enough, the bath isn’t too hot, or waking up countless times a night because he swears you looked uncomfortable in your sleep.
It bordered on ridiculous sometimes, but other times it makes your heart ache with so much love for him it was overwhelming. You don’t know how you had ever gotten so lucky.
And tonight, his love looks like him scanning every entrance in the room while keeping one hand anchored at your back as if he thinks you’ll disappear if he isn’t touching you.
“You’re looking at me like I’m made of glass,” you state softly.
Jungkook grins, his expression softening instantly. “You’re not glass.” His palm settles over your stomach carefully, almost reverently. “You’re carrying my baby.”
The way he says ’my’ does something dangerous to your heartbeat. It feels like devotion in the most beautiful sense.
A waiter passes with champagne and Jungkook intercepts him before he can even offer you a glass. “She can’t drink that,” he says automatically, shooting the man an offended look.
The waiter backs off, startled. “I was just, I’m sorry,” he stutters, embarrassed. “I was offering to both−”
“She wants sparkling water,” Jungkook decides.
He isn't usually so snappy, and you send the poor waiter an apologetic look secretly, to which he looks visibly relieved. You stare at Jungkook. “I do?”
“Yeah.”
“You’re unbelievable.”
“But you still love me,” he says with complete confidence.
He’s right of course. You take the sparkling water when it arrives, mostly because arguing with him in public is exhausting. Jungkook watches until you take a sip, visibly satisfied.
“You know,” you say slowly, “Some people might find this controlling, Koo.”
“Other people don’t get to carry my baby.”
Heat rushes to your face instantly, and his gaze darkens when he notices. You see that tiny flicker of possessiveness he rarely shows openly that usually slips out in moments like this. Intense and honest.
He brings you closer, cupping your face gently. “Are you tired?”
“I am a little.”
“Then we’ll leave early.”
“But you’re getting an award, Koo,” you protest in disbelief.
“And?” he counters. “I’m sure they’ll send it to me. It is mine after all, right?”
You play hit him, giggling. “You’re impossible sometimes.”
His thumb strokes along your jaw with a featherlight touch, and your skin tingles beneath his touch. “You two come first.”
Suddenly there’s another burst of camera flashes from inside the ballroom entrance, and instinctively Jungkook angles his body in front of yours again. You hear him curse under his breath.
“Relax, remember,” you say gently. “It’s just a job to them.”
Jungkook looks down at you for a moment. “That doesn’t matter,” he tells you. “I hate that everybody feels entitled to you suddenly.”
His raw honesty catches you off guard and you slip your hand into his, threading your fingers together slowly, liking the cool metal feel of his rings against you. You desire him even in these moments.
“Let them. You know who I belong to.”
He strokes your cheek. “Yes, baby, I know,” he says quietly. “But when they look at you, all I can think about is making sure nobody stresses you out or bumps into you. I want to make sure that nobody gets too close.” His eyes lower briefly toward your stomach. “I can’t help it.”
You don’t know how you could love this man any more than you already do, but somehow he always succeeds in making that happen.
“You’re going to scare the baby into being overprotected,” you tell him.
He does smile this time. “I already bought a car seat with military-grade reviews.”
“Oh my God, Koo!”
“And corner guards for tables.”
“The baby isn’t even born yet!”
“They were on sale.”
You laugh hard enough that tears prick your eyes, and relief instantly washes across his face like he’s been chasing that sound all evening. “That’s the only sound I want to hear,” he murmurs. “The only sound our little pear should hear, mommy happy.”
Your laughter fades slowly. Jungkook reaches up, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear with unbearable gentleness. The ballroom lights reflect gold in his dark eyes, but you’ve never felt so filled with love and adoration for him. “Koo−,” you breathe.
“You’re so beautiful,” he says huskily.
You swallow, fighting back the emotions that threaten to engulf you. This pregnancy was playing havoc with your hormones.
“You okay, Y/N?” Jungkook asks, noticing your expression.
You can only nod.
Then, because he’s been carrying the weight of everything else all night, because he’s standing there looking at you like the entire world begins and ends with the two heartbeats you carry between you, and because you want him so badly right now you might actually combust if you don’t do something, you pull him down by the lapel and kiss him.
Jungkook’s reaction is immediate. His hand slides firmly around your waist while the other cups the back of your neck, shielding the moment from wandering eyes even here. The kiss is slow and passionate, and full of a vortex of feelings. You feel him exhale softly against your mouth like he’s finally able to breathe and give the gentlest of moans that sends your pulse soaring.
When you both part, you see him take a moment to compose himself before he looks down at you. “You can’t do that at public events,” he chides breathlessly.
“You loved it,” you say. “Besides, you kissed my hand first.”
“That was different.”
“Was it?” you ask. “The cameras were still there when you did that.”
“Yeah, I know, but it was completely different,” he insists, drawing you to him. “−Because I have self-control.”
You scoff and raise an eyebrow challengingly. “Is that so?”
Jungkook looks down at you for exactly two seconds before leaning in and claiming your lips again anyway. He might be your protector, but there were some battles he was never going to win.
Summary: Based on the concept from the movie “Sinners,” music has the ability to shred the barrier between planes of existence and draw creatures of the underworld to the land of the living, and Jungkook’s heavenly voice ends up bringing hell right to his doorstep.
Pairing: Idol!Jungkook x Demon!Reader
Genre: Fantasy in the Modern World AU, Strangers to Lovers, Angst, Smut
Word Count: 15.2k
Warnings: demons, religious lore, hell, fantasy elements, mention of lucifer, temptation, corruption, manipulation, trespassing(??), threats, going missing, mention of death, life-altering decisions. SMUT: kissing, neck kissing, hair pulling, doggy, dick riding, oral sex (both receiving), spitting, titty play, cum feeding, cum eating, choking, crawling, slapping, body worship, sub!Koo 🤭, mild degradation, use of the term “good boy,” scratching, gagging, orgasm denial, creampie, okay I think that's it?
Author's Note: y'all I’m so sorry for making you wait so long. I lost motivation during bts ticketing season bc I was so damn stressed, but I managed to secure tix AND finish the story lol. all I have to say about this one is that it's basically pure smut. there is an underlying plot but the whole point of this fic is to see Koo get his shit rocked, I'm not even gonna lie. plus my time Jungkook is literally my favorite Jungkook ever. speaking of, I highly recommend watching the performance before reading this bc it gives you a very nice visual for the story 😏 also if you haven’t seen sinners you better go watch that too bc it’s the best movie of 2025 (after you read this lmao). all in all, I hope you enjoy this one and thank you for being so patient while I finished it! ilysm :)
-> 201010 Jungkook “My Time” Performance
“There are legends of people... born with the gift of making music so true, it can pierce the veil between life and death, conjuring spirits from the past and the future.” — Sinners, 2025
The sound of your heels clicking against the cold, marble floor is commonplace. You walk down this corridor daily to reach your private quarters at the end of the hall. Not all demons are awarded such a luxury, but after hundreds of years, it only makes sense for you to have your own lavish suite to reside in.
As a demon of desire, you take your job very seriously. Whether tempting mortals with erotic visions or sensual prose, you’re one of the best at soiling their virtue and turning them towards a life of sin. Of course, all of this occurs from your home in the underworld.
Demons are unable to visit the mortal realm unless a human creates a tear in the barrier between worlds, thus allowing one to enter. It’s extremely difficult to accomplish and only a small percentage of humans even possess the ability to do so. The last time you remember it happening was decades ago when a young man named Michael Jackson tore a hole through the metaphorical fabric.
You’ve been waiting your entire existence for the chance to see the human world for yourself and hopefully bring one back with you. That is the ultimate goal for demons, after all. Sure, messing with them from Hell is plenty enjoyable, but there’s nothing more fulfilling than stealing a mortal from their own realm to stay with you for all eternity.
Lucifer must be smiling up at you today, because the sound of your shoes kissing the floor suddenly ceases when you hear a melodic voice overhead. Glancing up, you notice a ripple in the deep red sky above you. It’s nothing more than a shimmer at the moment; a trick of light dancing like waves on a shore.
The music grows louder and the tear widens until you can faintly see the human on the other side.
His voice entices you much more than his image, which is to be expected when his alluring timbre is what’s creating the hole in the first place. It sounds refreshing like drinking a cool glass of water or applying lotion to dry skin; some of life’s simple pleasures. Although, his tone also possesses a slight sensuality like he wants the listener to believe he’s singing just for them. You suppose it’s this illustrious combination of sweet and seductive that’s shredding the barrier.
Once you do focus on his appearance, you’re pleasantly surprised to find he’s quite handsome for a human. He has a soft, round nose, plush lips, a sharp jawline, and big, captivating eyes. His hair is wavy, black, and long; ending just above his high cheekbones. Best of all, he’s wearing black leather pants and a matching jacket. Both of which are bordering a sheer black shirt that he untucks halfway through his performance to reveal a sculpted torso. If you didn’t know any better, you would think he’s trying to summon a demon.
“Well, well, well. Aren’t you just delectable?”
Truth be told, you’re completely hypnotized by him and can’t wait to sink your claws into his pretty, tanned skin.
You’re shamelessly smirking to yourself by the end of his song as you imagine all the different positions and angles you two can accomplish together. Even if he is only a mortal, a man like that is bound to bring you pleasure.
The hole begins to close following the completion of his ballad, but the damage is already done. He’s gotten your attention, unknowingly given you permission to enter his world, and now all you have to do is reel him into your clutches.
You proceed to skip down the remainder of the corridor so you can find the perfect outfit for formally introducing yourself to your prey. In a thousand years, you don’t believe the sound of your heels has ever been so cheerful.
After donning a little black dress, styling your hair like human women do, and applying just enough makeup to highlight your features, you descend the grand staircase leading to the human realm. The winding marble steps only appear if you’re able to pass through the barrier and as such, the guards look rather surprised when they notice you coming down.
“Miss Y/N, we didn’t expect to see you here,” one of them proclaims.
“Today’s my lucky day, boys,” you explain. “A talented little human decided to sing for me.”
“Well, of course, he did,” the other replies. “Who could ever resist you, Madam?”
You smile and blow the guard a gracious kiss before waltzing straight through the translucent archway which separates the two worlds. The portal spits you out precisely where you need to be; inside what you assume is the dressing room of your scrumptious mortal.
It’s cozy and looks similar to the man himself, with multiple lush blankets and all black furniture. You peruse the space while running your fingers across the all different couches and artwork. Besides the charming decor, there’s also a masculine, floral scent wafting in the air that leaves you wanting more.
After sitting on the large sofa across from the door, you cross your legs and examine your manicure as you wait patiently for your prey to arrive.
What you presume is his name hangs on a plaque near a desk with makeup and haircare products strewn about. It’s written in Hangul, although you already deduced he’s Korean since it’s what he was singing in earlier. Language barriers aren’t an issue for demons and you automatically begin sounding out his name so you can taste the letters on your tongue.
“Jun…gkook… Jung…kook?” You shake your head at yourself. “Jungkook… yeah, Jungkook.” A smile forms on your lips. “A pretty name for a pretty mortal.”
It isn’t long afterwards that the man of the hour walks through the door. He’s still in his outfit from earlier, although up close you can see he’s drenched in sweat from exuding so much energy throughout his performance. The scent from earlier becomes far more potent with him in the room and you eagerly inhale to get another whiff.
He doesn’t notice you right away because he’s busy combing his fingers through his damp hair so it doesn’t stick to his forehead. The vigorous dancing and singing clearly drained him because his chest is rising and falling while he attempts to recoup his lost oxygen. It provides you with a gorgeous view of all his muscles working as one to return his body to baseline.
It isn’t until he glances up that he stops dead in his tracks and his already large eyes widen like a cartoon character. He looks rightfully confused and even takes a gander around the room as though he might be in the wrong place. When he realizes he isn’t, his expression turns inquisitive and he clears his throat.
“Uh, can I help you?”
You smile while shaking your head and uncrossing your legs. A silent signal that you mean him no harm. You’ve learned over the years that humans often rely on body language even more than what someone is telling them.
“No,” you nonchalantly answer.
His responding chuckle is undoubtedly awkward as his eyes flicker around the room again in search of an explanation.
“Well, then may I ask what you’re doing here?”
“You can ask, doesn’t mean I’ll tell you.”
Whether it’s the lick of prowess in your tone or the sly words themselves, his intrigue becomes obvious when he smiles with a slight tilt of his head.
“How did you even get in here?”
“You let me in,” you state.
“I did?”
He points to his chest and you can’t help but laugh at the adorable look of confusion that crosses his face.
“Well, not directly, but I am here because of you.” Before he gets the wrong idea, you throw your hands up in surrender. “Don’t worry, I’m not some crazy fan or anything.”
As a demon, you don’t need to ask humans any questions to learn about them. Their personality, likes, dislikes, hobbies, and career are attributes you gain knowledge of immediately upon meeting them so you’re able to more accurately bend them to your will.
Which is how you know that Jungkook is a beloved idol who’s been singing and dancing for fans all across the globe since he was just a teenager.
“If you’re not a fan, then…”
His voice trails off, but it’s clear what he’s trying to ask.
“Why don’t you sit, Jungkook?”
You gesture to the chair across from you with a warm, polite smile. Much to your surprise, he doesn’t oppose the suggestion and strolls over to take a seat.
Once he’s comfortable, you lean forward and cross your legs again. It allows for your cleavage to make an appearance and Jungkook’s eyes momentarily flicker down to your chest. His cheeks flush and pupils dilate, which is par for the course of a mortal man. All it ever takes is a single glance.
“Obviously, you know my name. Am I allowed to know yours?” He asks.
“Y/N.”
Just a hint of a smile appears before he repeats the syllables to himself.
“It’s beautiful,” he tells you.
“Why thank you.” The blush on his face deepens. “I’ll be sure to tell my maker you said so.”
“Your maker?”
“Mmhm.” You watch while the gears in his pretty little head twist and turn to decipher the new information. “I don’t have parents as I’m sure you do.”
“No?”
“Nope. Just dear old dad Lucifer.”
“Lucifer?”
His pitch skyrockets as his muscles flex and you can even smell the intense spike of anxiety within him from across the room.
“That’s right. I am a demon, after all.”
Jungkook’s eyes expand into massive saucers, but it’s only for a brief moment before they become a pair of crescents when he starts laughing. If you weren’t already expecting this exact reaction, you would be offended. Alas, not many humans can comprehend your existence right off the bat.
“I’m sorry, I really tried humoring you, but that’s just ridiculous,” he explains. “Look, I’m sure you’re a very devoted fan, but there are a lot better ways to meet me than breaking and entering.” He stands to walk towards the door. “If you would be so kind, I just finished a pretty exhausting concert and need some rest, and I really don’t want to have to call security on you.”
You paint on a fake smile before making yourself comfortable and pointing at the chair again.
“Jungkook, I suggest you sit back down.”
“Listen —”
“Jungkook.” Since verbal instructions are failing, you flash your natural red eyes in his direction. “Sit.”
That certainly garners his attention. His expression is a perfect mixture of shock and horror as his hand falls from the doorknob and he turns to march back to his seat. You wait until he’s situated again before clearing your throat so you can continue.
“I know it can be hard to believe, but it isn’t possible for me to lie to you,” you declare.
His brow creases in confusion, but it seems his nervousness is slowly wavering.
“What do you mean?”
“Demons don’t possess the ability to lie. Our life’s purpose is to tempt and corrupt humans, but true corruption comes from a mortal making a bad decision for themself. If we’re untruthful in our approach, then it isn’t technically an act of free will since the person was deceived.”
Jungkook thoughtfully purses his lips while nodding his head.
“How do I know that isn’t a lie?”
The question makes you smirk.
“Such a smart boy,” you mumble under your breath. After sliding down the couch so you’re sitting on the edge, you rest your hands on your exposed thighs and rhythmically tap your nails against your skin. “Well, I don’t have a way to prove myself to you, but hopefully, you’ll let me convince you to trust me.”
“I don’t have much choice, do I?” He poses.
“Of course, you do.” He raises a skeptical eyebrow. “Again, my entire existence relies on you deciding to defy your own morals. I’ll never push you into doing something you don’t want to do.” You lean in to seductively whisper your next remark. “I want you to want it.”
If him licking his lips and drinking you up with his eyes is anything to go by, he already does. Ever since returning to his seat, Jungkook’s body has been tense with an indisputable sexual urge. Not only are you witnessing it with your own eyes, but you can smell the arousal in his blood and hear the erratic beat of his heart.
Although he’s showing clear signs of neediness, he remains calm while changing the subject.
“I never would’ve expected a demon to look like you.”
You shrug and lean back into the couch.
“I’m a demon of desire, so I was made to look like what you deem attractive.”
“What I do?”
“Not you, specifically, but human beings,” you clarify.
He hums in acknowledgement.
“And your ability to speak Korean, is that for the same reason?”
“Oh, I’m not speaking Korean.” His face contorts, so you explain. “Think of it like automatic translating. I’m speaking in my language, but you’re hearing me in Korean, and similarly, you’re speaking in Korean while I hear my own language.”
“Demons have a unique language?”
“Of course. We predate the existence of any verbal human language, after all.”
Your efforts seem to be working because the more he learns, the more his demeanor shifts towards comfortable. He’s now mirroring your own stance by relaxing in his chair and his breathing is completely level as he maintains eye contact.
“So, how long have you been around, then?” He inquires.
“Since the dawn of time,” you answer. “Well, not the dawn of time, because those two humans had to eat an apple first or whatever.”
Jungkook chuckles.
“And what does an ancient demon want with little ole me?”
“Like I said, you invited me here, Jungkook.”
He shakes his head in disbelief.
“How?”
“A small population of talented humans have the ability, through music, to shred the barrier between realms and allow creatures of the underworld to cross over.” You flash him a saccharine smile. “As it turns out, you happen to be one of them, and your lovely performance earlier brought me here.”
His eyes flicker back and forth as he thoughtfully observes the pattern on the floor. You know all this information can be hard for a mere human to grasp and you’re quite impressed with his comprehension so far.
“Brought you here to do what?”
He meets your gaze and you can’t resist frowning when you sense his fear peaking again. His chocolate brown eyes are full of inner turmoil, but it only makes them look prettier.
“I’m not here to hurt you, if that’s what you're asking,” you reassure him.
“No, you’re here to corrupt me. Is that right?”
You giggle and shrug your shoulders.
“Precisely.” Your laissez-faire attitude causes him to smile despite his nervous system still being on high alert. “You should really be more careful about what you do with those enticing hips of yours. One day, they might beckon the wrong company to your doorstep.”
You may be unable to lie, but you can still leave things out. Like the fact that he won’t ever have another visitor, at least not here on earth.
The teasing seems to dispel most of his anxieties since he chuckles and leans forward in his seat. You naturally match his movements to bring your faces closer together.
“And what are you? Good company?”
There’s a hint of mischief in his eye that makes you even more excited about how tonight will proceed.
“I’m the best company,” you counter. “The kind that provides you with more pleasure than you ever thought possible.”
Jungkook’s eyes sharpen and grow darker until they're almost black. He shifts in his chair and your attention is drawn down to the evident bulge straining against his pants. The sight fills you with pride and you aren’t able to refrain from smirking.
“Why would you want to bring me pleasure? Surely, a human can’t do what a demon can for you,” he argues.
“Mm. No, you can’t.” Sitting back, you slowly cross your legs again so Jungkook gets a faint glimpse of your inner thighs. “But the thing is, I was made for the benefit of humans, not other demons or myself. This is true fulfillment for me.”
You can hear the blood in Jungkook’s veins rushing down to his lower half.
“If that’s the case, who am I to stop you?”
This little human just keeps surprising you. Not only does he ask all the right questions, but he’s effortlessly following your every move.
Since he’s obviously buying into what you’re offering, you decide to shift the conversation to the actual focal point of the evening.
“Have you ever eaten pussy, Jungkook?”
The poor man damn near chokes on his own saliva.
“Of — of course, I have,” he defends himself.
You raise your hands in surrender.
“Just asking,” you sing-song before continuing your line of questioning. “Are you any good at it?”
Jungkook’s expression turns boastful.
“I haven’t had any complaints.”
It’s along with a head tilt and taunting smile that you respond.
“Well, that’s not a very high standard. Now is it?”
The vision of his face twisting into someone with something to prove ignites your ambition. You’re well aware of his competitive nature and using it to your advantage seems to do the trick because he stands up like a man on a mission.
Before he’s able to close the distance, you raise your hand to halt his movements.
“On your knees,” you command.
“Pardon?”
“Get on your knees for me, Jungkook.” You feign innocence by tilting your head again. “Isn’t that a sign of respect in your culture?”
He obeys without another word, maintaining your sharp gaze as he kneels down before you. His eyebrows rise afterwards to silently request further instruction, which you provide by smirking and pointing at the ground with your forefinger.
You watch with heat in your irises while he bends over until he’s deeply bowing to you. It gives you a gorgeous view of his back muscles and triceps rippling beneath his leather jacket. He’s such a good little mortal, and you truly can’t wait to tear him to shreds with your teeth. Metaphorically, of course.
Once he returns to his previous position, he rests his hands on his knees to await your next move.
“Crawl.”
The demand causes his brow to scrunch, but he doesn’t open his mouth to argue. He just moves to all fours while staring you down as though to confirm this is what you want. When you nod, he begins crawling across the floor like a predator to its prey. Ironic, given that it’s quite the opposite.
Witnessing him on his hands and knees, slowly moving closer, is quite the sight to behold. Especially because his eyes are boring into your own with an intense, sexual fire. He even seems to be purposely crossing the room at a snail’s pace to prolong the journey and leave you waiting.
You gotta hand it to him, he certainly knows how to be seductive.
Once he’s close enough, you lift your leg to stop him by driving your stiletto into his chest. He hisses, but the sound goes contrary to the avarice light that flickers awake in his eyes.
Your foot keeps him still while you take the time to survey all his features up close. It’s impressive how seamlessly he’s able to switch between demure and devious. On stage, during his performance, you could’ve easily confused him for one of your own, but upon entering the dressing room he looked boyish and pure.
You use your heel to open up his shirt a little more, allowing you to see the hard lines of his collarbones and chest. From there, you drag your foot down until it pops open all the buttons and unveils his salacious abdominal muscles.
“My, my. You really are striking for a human,” you compliment him.
There’s a faint red line down his torso from where your shoe scraped his skin and it makes you want to trail your nails down his body in the exact same manner. Maybe your tongue, too.
Alas, you’re a temptress, and these things take time. If he’s ever going to agree to join you in the underworld for all eternity, you’ll need him totally wrapped around your finger.
“And you’re the most gorgeous being I’ve ever laid eyes on,” he parries.
That’s certainly a start.
“Oh, aren’t you just sweeter than candy?”
His eyes look like miniature galaxies as he admires you from below, full of both wonderment and inexplicable desire.
“Can I touch you?” He whispers, as if he’s afraid to shatter the tension in the air.
You pretend to think it over by pursing your lips before inevitably sending him a masterful grin.
“Beg for it.”
Jungkook doesn’t waste any time before lurching forward so he can kiss your skin beginning at your ankle and then up your calf. He even delicately holds your knee in place while traveling one smooch at a time up your leg. Feeling his soft lips on you is foreign since no demon has ever granted you such gentle affection, but you can’t deny how enjoyable it is.
“Please.” He stops near your knee to gaze up at you with huge, pleading eyes. “Let me taste you, Y/N.”
Oh, he’s good.
“You better not disappoint me, Jungkook,” you respond.
His lips form a sinister smirk.
“I can assure you, it’s not in my nature. I put my all into everything I do.”
“Then be my guest.”
Your approval opens the floodgates of Jungkook’s determination and his lips return to kissing along your inner thigh inch by inch. While his mouth caresses your skin, his hands slowly push your dress higher to reveal more of you.
The novel presence between your legs is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before. You’re certainly no stranger to intimacy, both physically with demons and mentally through your job tempting humans. But feeling Jungkook’s warm, wet mouth grazing your skin and leaving goosebumps in his wake is uniquely intoxicating.
As his head nears your center, it forces your thighs apart and you naturally sink deeper into the couch and open your legs wider. Jungkook makes himself comfortable in the space as his hands grasp your hips so he can yank you closer.
His face is just about to reach your core and contrary to your nature, you find yourself holding your breath in anticipation. He’s still mouthing at your inner thighs, even using his teeth to nibble on your supple skin. You know this game of taunting all too well, but it’s vastly different being on the opposite side of the pitch.
You hear him inhale once he reaches your cunt and the sound is followed by a low, eager groan.
“Fuck, you smell divine,” he mumbles into your underwear.
The irony of that statement isn’t lost on you in the slightest.
Jungkook quickly curls his fingers around your panties to roll them down your legs, but he takes his time pulling the fabric completely off. Following just behind where the lace is brushing against your skin, he kisses back down your opposite leg until the underwear are finally gone. He sticks them in his back pocket afterwards and when you teasingly click your tongue at him, he just smirks at you.
He dives right back in by shoving your dress past your hips so he has enough room before tugging you to the edge of the couch again. With your cunt now on full display and close enough to reach with his mouth, he takes a single lick up the entirety of your slit.
His response to finally tasting you is not only an amorous, raspy moan, but to immediately start fiercely eating you.
While his tongue moves through your folds, your head falls back and your eyes flutter shut because even though he’s only just begun, he’s unexpectedly bringing you immense pleasure already.
His mouth works tirelessly to swipe across your hole before he licks along your inner walls. When he does, the tip of his tongue brushes against the spongy spot inside you and you latch onto his hair in response. The fingernails of your opposite hand bite into the arm of the couch, steadying you as he repeats the same motions over and over again.
After a while of him collecting your essence in his mouth and swallowing it with content hums, he moves up to flick your clit with his tongue before slowly circling it. As your fingers tighten their hold on his hair and your thighs press against his ears, he flattens the muscle and moves his head side to side to provide you with even more friction. It causes a low moan to pass through your lips while your back arcs off the couch.
Jungkook’s clearly humble, because what he’s doing to you is worthy of much more praise than simply “not having any complaints.” Perhaps it’s due to him being a singer and regularly using his mouth as an instrument. Whatever it is, consider yourself impressed with this little human.
When he leaves your clit alone to sloppily kiss your pussy, you open your eyes and glance down at him between your thighs. It’s such a gorgeous view; you can see his biceps flexing from him holding your legs wide open as well as his head bobbing with each lick. Witnessing a human completely submit themselves to temptation, passion, and desire is every demon’s dream and you can’t help but let out a sigh of accomplishment.
“You’re doing so well, Jungkook,” you whisper.
He enthusiastically moans into your cunt and you can hear more blood rushing down to his cock. You almost laugh out loud at the reaction, having forgotten just how easy mortals are to please.
Your fingers still intertwined in his hair slowly push the soft, black locks away from his face so you can admire how his brow creases with sheer determination.
“Do I taste good, baby?”
Jungkook practically growls in affirmation. In fact, the sound is so visceral you can feel the vibrations in his chest against your thighs. He pauses afterwards and presses his forehead to your hip as he attempts to catch his breath through deep, heavy pants.
“So… so fucking good,” he answers. “I’ve never tasted anything like it.”
“It’s a demon thing.”
His head shakes along with a disbelieving chuckle.
“I won’t ever be able to enjoy another woman the same way again.” He glances up and you expect his expression to be remorseful or crestfallen following such a declaration, but his eyes don’t show a single ounce of regret. It’s a good thing, really, given that he’ll never touch someone other than you again. “Can I keep going?”
You snicker and trail your hand down his profile so you can tilt his chin up. The bottom half of his face is glistening with your arousal and the sight is so sinful you know even Lucifer would be proud.
“Of course. Just don’t tire yourself out, we’ve got a long night ahead of us.”
He doesn’t respond besides a devilish smirk as he returns to your center to continue eating you out. The short reprieve seems to have given him a second wind because his fingers clutch your thighs even tighter and he forces his face into your cunt like he wants to drown in you.
It leaves you readjusting your own grip on the couch and in his hair as he ravenously feasts on your pussy. Not only do his noises of enjoyment return, but he also starts nodding so his nose brushes your clit while his tongue is busy deep inside your hole.
Just when you think he’ll keep going just like that, he releases one of your legs and reaches up to grope your breast. Despite you being the epitome of desire, aka having perfect tits, Jungkook’s hand is big enough to completely engulf one of them. His fingers massage your flesh at a much slower tempo than his tongue and after fondling you for some time, his pointer and middle finger begin tweaking your nipple through your dress.
Your head lulls back again as the dual ministrations bring you endless satisfaction. His mouth feels unbelievable lapping up all essence pouring out of you while his digits roll your nipple between them until it’s almost painfully hard. He eventually switches to your neglected breast, all without missing a beat between your legs.
Never has a human being astonished you quite as much as Jungkook. You suppose it makes sense given his ability to tear a hole in the barrier between worlds. But there’s still one thing you need to test him on and that’s obedience.
After releasing the couch, you wrap your fingers around Jungkook’s wrist and remove his hand from your chest. You lace your digits together instead and he doesn’t seem to mind; even humming in acknowledgment at the same time his lips move to your clit again.
“Slower, baby,” you instruct. He immediately heeds the demand and stops sucking on your pearl, switching to lazy circles with the pointed tip of his tongue. “That’s a good boy.”
Jungkook continues at the same pace, alternating between merely teasing your clit and smothering it with the flat of his tongue.
His hand on your thigh seems to be a tool for restraint because his fingertips are creating divots in your skin. Meanwhile, your free hand is still combing through his sweaty curls and he obviously enjoys the sensation because happy hums and moans keep meeting your sex.
“Think you can make me come, Jungkook?” He whimpers while vehemently nodding his head just as his mouth encases your clit to suck on your nerve endings again. You let go of his hand so it can return to your thigh while your own joins its twin on his head. “Go ahead and give it a try.”
In an act that shocks even you, Jungkook doesn’t hesitate to use his leverage to push your legs into your chest as he starts going to town on your pussy.
You’re bent in half like a pretzel, which is a position you never expected a mere human to put you in, but you certainly don’t mind. It allows Jungkook’s mouth to reach every inch of your cunt and he takes full advantage of that by seamlessly fluctuating between fondling your clit and fucking you with his tongue.
He was already leading you closer to the precipice of ecstasy, but his new rhythm and vigor have you racing towards the finish line. His efforts even prompt you to drive your fingers deep into his hair and scratch at his scalp while your eyes close and your chest heaves with adrenaline.
His tongue is currently working with expert precision to lap up all your arousal, but when it seems like he’s about to move to your clit, you push his head down with both hands.
“Don’t move,” you snap.
As always, he abides by the instruction and continues without reprieve.
It doesn’t take long before you feel a familiar pressure coiling in your gut and Jungkook must realize because he ramps up his force again while groaning and clawing at your thighs. Less than a minute later the sensation snaps like a rubber band and you moan as cum paints the bottom half of his face.
Jungkook reacts instantly by wrapping his arms around your thighs so he can bring his head closer and swallow your release. He moans and whines throughout your entire climax while his tongue continuously curls your essence into his mouth. It feels phenomenal and you simply relax against the couch as he licks your cunt as if it’ll be his final meal.
In the end, you have to literally shove his face away from your center just to stop him before he runs out of air. If he suffocates, your whole plan is shot.
“Fuck,” Jungkook rasps while wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He sits back on his heels and attempts to steady his breathing. “I don’t even like eating pussy all that much, but you? I swear, I could do that forever.”
The comment makes you smirk. You’re more than happy to hear it considering that’s what eternity has in store for him if all goes well tonight.
With his body out of the way, you lower your legs and readjust your dress to its original position before returning to the couch.
“After a couple more lessons, I might just let you,” you confess.
You adore how Jungkook’s eyes light up at the notion and you have to refrain from celebrating too soon, but it certainly seems like everything’s going according to plan.
“How would that even work?”
Along with his question, he stands and brushes any dirt off his leather pants before pointing to the spot beside you to silently ask if he can sit. You respond affirmatively by patting the furniture and sliding over to create more room for him.
“We can talk about that later.”
Once he’s sitting, you reach out to tuck some hair behind his ear with a warm smile. He practically melts into your touch by leaning his head against your palm, reminding you yet again just how easily humans fall for you. Even smart ones like Jungkook.
Another reminder follows soon after when he begins encroaching on your space with pursed lips. It sets off multiple alarms in your mind and you quickly cover his mouth with your free hand to halt him.
Jungkook’s brow creases in confusion before he retreats with a pout.
“I can’t kiss you?”
Holy hades, you never expected him to be so damn endearing. Especially after what he just did to you.
“Not yet,” you inform him while dropping your hands to your lap.
“Why not?”
He’s still pouting and his eyes are sparkling with longing for you. If you were any weaker of a demon, you might actually give in.
His question is still a problem, though, because you can’t lie to him, but you also don’t want to reveal too much yet.
“It’s complicated.”
That is the truth, albeit missing all the details of the real reason. Thankfully, Jungkook doesn’t pry any further.
“Then how else do you plan to corrupt me, Y/N?” He asks instead.
Gone is the lovesick puppy as his sensual demeanor returns with a vengeance. His eyes trace over all your pretty curves on display across from him while he licks his lips and leans back on his palms.
Your view is equally as enticing because his shirt is still ripped open to show off his toned stomach and pecs. Plus his semi-hard cock is obviously suffocating in his pants and with his legs spread, you can tell how big he is.
Rather than answering, you lay your hand on his upper thigh before tauntingly inching towards his crotch. You hold his gaze the entire time until your fingers finally graze his dick and he closes his eyes with a wanton moan.
“Probably like this,” you tease.
Jungkook throws his head back when you begin rubbing him over his pants as one of his hands clutches the back of the couch for support.
“Holy shit.” The poor thing must be touch starved if he’s this reactive. “Pl… please.”
“When’s the last time someone touched you, Jungkook?”
He grimaces and lifts his head to catch your eye.
“It isn’t exactly easy… being an idol and all,” he explains. “It’s — fuck. Fuck, that feels so good.” You notice his fingers digging into the material of the couch so he can focus on talking. “It’s too risky to hook up with non-idols because they might tell someone or run to the press. That leaves you with no choice but to fuck other idols, but everyone’s either too busy or already messing around with someone else.”
Well, that explains why he barely put up a fight after finding out what you are. All his sexual prowess is going to waste here in the mortal world. It’s a good thing you showed up when you did.
“Oh, my poor baby.” Jungkook’s heavy-lidded eyes widen when you kneel on the couch and rest your opposite hand on his thigh. “I’ll make it all better, okay?”
“Wait.” His free hand grabs your own, but conveniently not the one still on his dick. “Are you seriously about to suck me off?”
His innocence makes you giggle.
“I wouldn’t be a very good demon of desire if I didn’t give you precisely what you desire. Now would I?”
You wink at him before bending over and replacing your hand with your mouth. As soon as your lips caress his bulge, Jungkook’s hips buck towards your face and he groans so loud he has to muffle himself with his palm.
It elicits a smirk as you kiss him through his pants and run your hands all along his thighs. His responsiveness is downright addictive, both when he provides pleasure and receives it. Especially when he squeezes your hand every time your mouth makes contact with the leather covering his twitching cock.
While your other hand moves to undo his belt without ceasing your actions, Jungkook whines and you hear his fingernails scraping the couch.
“Oh, God,” he rasps, but it’s barely audible. Nevertheless, you halt and peer up with a daunting head tilt and once Jungkook notices, his eyes bulge. “Right. Sorry.”
All you grant him is a few disapproving clicks of your tongue before you finish removing his belt and pull his pants down past his knees. There’s a wet spot on his boxers that fills you with satisfaction as you trace the shape of him through the material. He looks big, even obstructed, and you’re eager to witness every inch of him with your own eyes.
“Would you look at that,” you note. “You keep surprising me, mortal.”
You can’t see the grin behind Jungkook’s hand, but it’s clear there is one because his eyes light up in response to your praise. Although, the brilliance flickers into something much darker when you slip your fingers into his waistband. He automatically lifts his hips so you can yank the material to the floor without ever breaking eye contact.
Once his cock is free, it springs up and causes you to smile in delight. Not only is he both long and thick, but it’s honestly one of the most gorgeous dicks you’ve ever seen. His skin looks so soft, is the perfect shade, and the large veins running down his shaft are pulsing with need. Plus it curves just enough where you know he’ll hit the right spot every time.
Demons have the same external anatomy as humans, so this certainly isn’t a new sight, but he also gives some of your previous partners a run for their money. Even though most of them were created to be the “perfect” man.
“You’re just pretty all over. Aren’t you, Jungkook?”
He isn’t able to respond before you flatten your tongue across his head to slurp up the precum pooling there. Jungkook damn near screams while tipping his head back and exposing his throat. The veins in his neck even make an appearance from the strain on his voice.
You don’t give him any reprieve and immediately begin circling his sensitive ridge with the tip of your tongue. It leaves him helplessly gasping into his hand as his thighs shake under your palms.
“Ahh, fuck,” Jungkook cries when you slowly lick down his entire shaft.
There’s a harsh scraping sound from his nails biting into the leather as he attempts to remain in control and the amount of pride it brings you is boundless. You would love nothing more than to just listen to him lose himself in ecstasy all night long.
“Does that feel good, baby?”
Jungkook aggressively whines and nods his head.
“Please, Y/N… please don’t stop.”
Luckily for him, you’re more than ready to feel the weight of him inside your mouth and down your throat. But you do still take some time to tease him.
It begins with a light flick of your tongue across the delicate skin at the base of his cock, where his balls are already fraught with tension. From there you drag the wet muscle upwards inch by inch while tracing the veins pumping blood into his dick and making him agonizingly hard.
Upon returning to his tip, you give him a couple chaste kisses until he whimpers for more. The sound is music to your ears.
He’s sweating now; you can smell it on him as well as see droplets on his forehead and running down his pecs. It gives him a glistening appearance as the light catches and highlights all the stunning valleys of his body. You decide then and there you want to trail your tongue over every inch of his muscular torso. That’ll be the first item on your to-do list once you return home.
“If you want this, you have to ask me properly,” you instruct.
His needy eyes meet your own in a silent plea, but your expression remains sinister and sultry. When he realizes he has no choice but to appease you, his hand falls to his stomach and his stare softens even more.
“I’ll do anything you ask, just please suck my dick. I wanna feel how warm and wet your mouth is; see how deep you can take me.” He sighs as his focus flickers down to his rock hard shaft. “I think I might actually die if you don’t.”
“Hmm. Well, we wouldn’t want that.” You pretend to ponder the request while drawing nonsensical shapes on his thighs. “But I think you need to be more specific.”
Jungkook looks like he’s about to burst into tears of frustration. It causes his eyes to shimmer and you can’t help but admire how pretty they are like that.
“Please… I can’t…”
His desperation is truly exhilarating, but you still help him out by breaking down the request.
“Do you want me to use my tongue?” He nods like he’s in a trance. “Yeah? Want me to lap up all this precum and soak your cock in my drool?”
“Fuck,” Jungkook whines.
“I know you’ve got a larger vocabulary than that, Jungkook. Use your words.”
“Yes. Yes, I want that.”
A smirk appears the longer you witness him teetering on the edge of insanity.
“Good boy,” you respond. “Do you want to feel my mouth around you?”
“Yes.”
“What do you want me to do with it?”
You feel his leg muscles tensing with restraint and his blood even starts pumping faster through his veins when his heart rate skyrockets.
“I… I want you to… to swallow my cock as far as it can go down your throat; over and over again.”
“What else?”
He grinds his teeth together as a pained growl passes through his lips, but he still manages to answer you.
“Want you to choke on my cum when it spills inside your mouth.”
If that isn’t precisely what you were hoping to hear, you don’t know what is.
You’re quite proud of your little human; he’s doing so well considering how far gone he is. You can sense adrenaline overpowering his nervous system as his body yearns for your touch. Most people wouldn’t even be able to utter a single coherent sentence in this state.
“And how bad do you want me to do that, Jungkook?”
The submission seems to snap out of him as his eyes turn into thin slits full of determination. Just as planned, you're clearly pushing him right up against his breaking point.
“I would kill for it,” he declares.
Shit, you’re about to have him so corrupted by the end of the night he’ll practically be part demon.
Rather than continue to question him, you finally cease your torment by kissing and kitten licking his slit so you can swallow his precum, just as you said. He must be healthy because the taste makes you moan in appreciation while your tongue glides across his skin. Once you’re satisfied with how shiny his cockhead is, you wrap your lips around his tip and hollow your cheeks.
Jungkook officially loses it and literally tears a hole in the couch. His other hand creates thin, red streaks on his own abdominal muscles as he screams, his jaw clenches, and the veins in his neck pop out again. It’s genuinely one of the sexiest sights you’ve ever witnessed and you momentarily admire him deep in euphoria before moving further down his shaft.
With every inch you take, Jungkook’s body reacts tenfold. You can hear his blood coursing through his veins like ferocious rapids, his heartbeat thumping like a beast in a cage, and his lungs attempting to push as much oxygen out as possible. Not to mention the potent scent of his arousal, exhilaration, and pure testosterone infiltrating your nostrils.
By the time your lips are entirely stretched around his girth and your nose is buried in his pubic hair, it seems as though his sanity is holding on by a threat. He’s endlessly moaning and panting while all his muscles flex and his skin flushes a deep red.
“Holy fucking shit,” he groans and throws his head back until all you see is his sharp jawline.
Demons don’t have gag reflexes because you’re crafted with human desire in mind. So, it’s easy to hold your position even with his big cock stuffed deep down in your esophagus.
You suction your lips to make a tighter hole and then swallow so your throat constricts around his tip. It causes Jungkook to choke on air while the hand on his stomach instinctively flies to your head. He desperately latches onto your hair until the strands knot around his fingers, using the brutish grip to ground himself.
Once you sense his body relaxing, you slowly rise and lay your tongue out so it caresses the underside of his dick as you go.
“Fuuuck.”
Jungkook’s nails scratch your scalp when you reach his head again and suckle on it before swallowing his entire length once more. You begin bobbing at a leisurely tempo as your tongue keeps him lubricated and applies pressure to the sensitive ridges of his cock. All while your lips remain in a taught circle so the friction is just right.
It’s obviously exactly what he needed because he’s still reacting like you’re sucking the very soul out of him. Each time his tip sinks down your throat he cries out and tugs on your hair, producing a sinful melody of sloppy, wet movements and nonsensical whines.
“Y/N, you’re… you’re killing me.”
Your responding giggle sends vibrations down his shaft and elicits another gasp from above. You free him so you can reply, but Jungkook whimpers at the sudden lack of warmth.
“I’ve only just begun, baby,” you retort.
He blows air out of his mouth and releases the tattered couch to push his hair away from his face.
“I know. I need more.”
“More?”
The demand sends your eyebrows up your forehead. You were going slow for his benefit because you know he’ll be embarrassed if he blows his load in less than five seconds. Which is precisely what’ll happen if you pick up the pace. But if that’s his wish, who are you to deny him?
“Mmhm,” he reaffirms. “I want you to do your worst.”
Your head tilts as you silently challenge his request, but Jungkook holds firm and doesn’t sever your eye contact. Impressive.
“It’s your funeral, dollface.”
Without another word, you completely encompass his dick again and return to your previous endeavor, but at a much quicker pace. It’s clear Jungkook didn’t realize what he was asking for because almost immediately his noises double in volume and his opposite hand joins the one on your head.
His fingers fumble around your skull for something to grasp, but it takes him a moment to secure your hair in his fist because your head is rising and falling too fast.
“Ah. Ah, fuck.”
Not only are you rapidly bobbing, but your mouth’s tension is tighter and you purposely swallow whenever he’s stuffed down your throat. You keep your tongue flat as well so you can taste all the precum spilling from his slit due to him nearing a climax.
As if that isn’t enough, you also let go of his thigh to cradle his balls. That one touch alone is all it takes for Jungkook to wail and force your face down as he comes in your mouth in violent spurts of white.
You enthusiastically moan while his cock twitches and drenches your throat in his seed, but you don’t swallow. Instead, you wait until his orgasm ends to lift your head before crawling over his shaking torso. Upon reaching his face, you tug on his chin so his jaw drops open and hover as close as possible to spit the warm liquid into his mouth.
“Swallow,” you order while forcing his lips closed again. His throat bobs when he instantly obeys and eats his own cum, bringing a devilish smile to your face. “Mm, my baby’s such a good listener.”
Jungkook is still panting as his mind and body settle into normalcy, but he manages to nod in agreement.
“Could never… say no… to you,” he confesses.
“Is that right?”
His head moves up and down again, but you can tell it’s totally mindless. You sit back on your heels in the space between his knees and wait for his return to earth, which takes another couple minutes.
“Holy shit.”
He pushes his hair back a few times before shaking his head like he's trying to right his brain. His eyes eventually land on you just ahead of him and a spark of desire flickers in the dark brown pools. His natural reaction makes you grin again, albeit far less mischievous than your last one.
“How are you doing?”
Jungkook chuckles in disbelief.
“I’ve never experienced something so intense in my whole life,” he claims.
“Told you.”
You reach out to trace the scratch marks on his abs and his eyes follow the movement, but then he surprises you by catching your wrist.
“I don’t think I’ll ever enjoy a blowjob from someone else again.”
Well, of course not.
“I know,” you respond with a faux sympathetic frown. “But that can be easily solved.”
“How?”
Both the unease that crosses his features and the anxiety radiating from him prompt you to comfort him by straddling his lap.
When you sit on his thighs, your bare pussy lands right on his cock that’s still partially hard. The contact makes him groan as his hands find your hips and he starts drawing lazy circles with his fingertips while your own trail up his chest.
“By coming with me.”
Jungkook’s eyes widen and his hands cease their expedition as he digests your answer.
“Come with you where?”
It seems like he already has an inclination.
“To Hell, of course.”
With his suspicions confirmed, his fear spikes and you feel his fingers flexing at your sides. You attempt to soothe him by caressing his collarbones and shoulders, which at least causes his heartbeat to slow down a little.
“Could I come and go?”
“No, baby. It would have to be forever.”
“Can’t you just stay here?”
His gentle optimism tugs at your heart strings, even if just a little bit.
“Unfortunately not. The tear you caused only allows me to pass through for one night. If I’m here any longer than that, I’ll cease to exist,” you explain.
He compulsively chews on his bottom lip while his eyes follow the motion of his own hands along your waist.
“But what about my fans, my family, my… my members?”
Before answering, you tilt his chin up so you can see his eyes which are swimming with indecision. You then paint a pout on your lips and allow a wave of hurt to overtake your face.
Just because you can’t lie, doesn’t mean you can’t manipulate.
“Don’t you want to be with me, Jungkook?”
“Of course, I do,” he immediately assures you.
“Then what’s the problem?”
Feigning ignorance is always a good trick for making human men fall straight into your clutches. It also helps that Jungkook’s already deep in your web and all you have to do is spin the silk.
“I would be giving up my entire life; my career, my loved ones.”
You thoughtfully hum for a moment before leaning in so you can whisper in his ear. As your lips graze his cartilage, he shivers beneath you and you’re certain you’ve got him.
“But you would have me.” Jungkook moans when you softly bite his earlobe while digging your nails into his chest. “It could be just you and me for all eternity, baby. Just like this.”
To amplify your point, you grind down in his lap so he can feel your wet cunt gliding across his dick.
“Fuck, I…” He pauses at the same time his hands grip your waist tighter. “I want that. I swear, I do, but I need to think about it.”
“Of course,” you concur and lift your head to meet his gaze. “I would never expect you to make such a big decision without plenty of consideration first.”
Jungkook hums in approval as he traces your curves until his fingers are gently resting on your neck.
“Can I finally kiss you now?” When you shake your head, he aggressively pouts. “Why not?”
His expression unintentionally brings a smile to your face. You never expected to feel so charmed by a mere mortal, but Jungkook seems to be one-of-a-kind.
“Kissing me is your one-way ticket to Hell.”
“How?”
“If you kiss me, we’ll both be instantly transported there. So, I suppose it’s really up to you.”
For a split second it almost seems like he’ll say “fuck it” and plant his lips on yours, but he inevitably just nods.
“Can I still… can we keep going? Even though I haven’t decided yet?”
The question makes you smirk and playfully tilt your head.
“Can you handle that?”
You grind against him again, causing his head to tip back in ecstasy while his cock grows harder underneath you. As you continue pulling yourself across his thighs, Jungkook’s hands creep up into your hair before he tugs hard to expose your throat. His lips attach themselves to your skin where he sucks and licks across your neck with a possessive growl.
Although you know feeling your pussy on his dick is driving him wild, it’s just as wonderful for you. He’s fully erect again and the friction caused by your fluid, repetitive movements feels incredible, especially on your clit. You could definitely make you both come just like this, but you’re dying to have him buried deep inside you already.
His lips are relentlessly painting your throat in saliva while his fingers roam your scalp and knot your hair. He’s clearly the type of person who wants to touch you everywhere and you’re more than willing to let him. Similarly, you spend your time mapping his pecs and abs before eventually shoving his shirt and jacket off to reveal his upper body.
Jungkook takes the hint and releases your head so he can finish removing his clothes, all without pausing his kisses on your neck.
“Wanna see you,” he whispers into your skin.
“Be my guest.”
There isn’t an ounce of hesitation when he snatches the bottom hem of your dress to yank it over your head. He sits back to admire you in your entirety for the first time and he must like what he sees because his eyes expand into massive, starry globes.
“Damn.”
His hands reclaim your waist so he can slowly traverse your body. He glides over your hips and up your ribs until he reaches your breasts and cups them in his big hands. You moan in tandem as his fingers squeeze and massage your flesh, with Jungkook seemingly hypnotized by the sight.
He’s gentle with you despite the fact that you’re still lackadaisically humping each other. If you didn’t know any better you would think he’s never seen a pair of tits before based on how adorably curious he looks. But perhaps it’s just you he’s so entranced by.
“Am I everything you were hoping for, Jungkook?”
You already know the answer. No human could ever disagree with that statement, but you want to hear his response regardless.
It takes him a second to process the question since he’s still hyper focused on the way your supple skin pops out between his digits, but he eventually blinks and returns his gaze to your face.
“No.” He shakes his head. “You’re more. So much fucking more.”
The next thing you know his head dips so he can encase one nipple in his mouth while tweaking the other between his thumb and forefinger. On instinct, your hand rises to his hair where you sink your fingers into the sea of curly, black strands. He hums in appreciation while his lips and teeth work together to turn your nub sensitive and hard. Once he’s satisfied, he switches sides to repeat the motions.
He then kisses across the swell of your breasts while his hands continue to caress your skin. Puffs of air created by his pleasurable groans tickle the wet spots he’s leaving on you until he finally returns to kissing your neck.
It feels like he’s worshipping you and although you’re used to humans being in awe of you, this is something else entirely. You can’t tell if it’s because you did such an amazing job reeling him in or if Jungkook is just a naturally devoted person. Either way, you’re more than willing to let him keep going uninterrupted. It isn’t everyday you get to take a backseat in these situations.
“You’re perfect, Y/N,” he notes following a final smooch to your jugular. “Just absolutely fucking perfect.”
You chuckle.
“That’s the whole point, dollface,” you counter.
Jungkook parrots your laugh at the same time he lifts his head to look at you again. His eyes are so expressive and he doesn’t hold back in using them to show his obvious reverence for you.
Upon witnessing his affectionate gaze, you smirk and shove his shoulder so he falls back into the couch. He grunts in surprise before the sound morphs into a lighthearted giggle.
His hands automatically find your hips to continue guiding you back and forth across his lap. By now, his cock is practically coated in your arousal and it would be far too easy to sheath him inside your warm walls.
Alas, he’s still human, and you don’t want to break him before you buy him. Figuratively speaking.
“Are you sure you can keep going? I know that blowjob really drained you.”
Your fingertips are absentmindedly tracing the crevices of his abdominal muscles and Jungkook smiles at the tickling sensation.
“I rehearse my songs while running on a treadmill. Trust me, I’ve got plenty of stamina.”
“Well, I sure hope so.” While bending down so you’re nose to nose, you slide your hands up and over his chest until they land on his shoulders. “Because we’re not stopping until I’m completely satisfied.”
His grin grows to the point his eyes turn into little crescents.
“You don’t need to worry about that.”
Following his reply, he pitches his hips up to send his cock straight into your clit. The friction forces your eyes into your skull and Jungkook has the nerve to giggle at your expense.
He’s quite the enigma; flipping from begging to taunting at the drop of a hat. It intrigues you more than you care to admit, but you suppose that’s a good thing if he’s going to be yours forever.
Before he can pull another stunt, you use his shoulders to push yourself upright again. Jungkook’s eyes follow the movement with a flicker of heat and you even feel his dick twitching. It’s an adorably human trait of his. You barely have to do anything to make him all starry-eyed.
One of your hands slides down his chest for support while the other sneaks between your bodies. You kneel so you have enough room to wrap your fingers around his shaft, allowing you to stroke him into the perfect seat.
When you start lowering your body, Jungkook moans with his eyes fixated on the sight of you nearing his cock. Then once his tip kisses your entrance, the sound becomes a deep groan and he slams his head into the couch.
“Oh, shit,” he hisses.
Nothing more than his cockhead is inside you, but you can’t really blame him for losing it already. Human women are downright incomparable to you, and the farther he slips inside your velvet walls, the louder and more strained his voice becomes. Plus his hands are desperately clawing at your waist like he won’t survive without touching you.
“Shh.” You pacify him by running your fingertips all along his pecs and collarbones. “Just breathe, baby.”
“I don’t know if I can. You’re so fucking tight.”
“Well, it isn’t just me.” With a smirk, your fingers dance up to his neck where you apply the lightest amount of pressure. “You’re so big, Jungkook.”
He chuckles and lifts his head to meet your gaze. There’s a proud smile gracing his lips, but it vanishes when you finish sitting on his thighs so his entire length is suddenly nestled inside your cunt.
“Ahh, God!”
“Hey!” You squeeze the sides of his throat, causing him to gasp and arch his back. “Who do you think you’re talking to?”
“I’m sorry.”
His big, puppy eyes are staring up at you and it’s almost enough to make you relent.
“God’s not here, baby. Quite the opposite.”
Just to prove a point, you turn your eyes crimson again. But much to your surprise, Jungkook looks more aroused than scared. He proceeds to genuinely shock you by moving his hand from your hip to your cheek before gently running his thumb back and forth across your skin.
“You’re so beautiful, Y/N.”
For a split second you actually feel your heart flutter inside your chest, but then you notice the mischievous gleam in his eye.
“Are you trying to distract me?”
Jungkook’s lips form a smirk to match his playful irises.
“Is it working?”
Rather than responding, you use your free hand to remove his own from your face and force it above his head. He grunts and pushes against your grasp with a determined expression, but you don’t let him budge an inch.
“Not even close,” you sneer.
“No?” Jungkook wraps his opposite arm around your waist and thrusts up, sending his cock into your g-spot and pulling a low whine from you in the process. When he laughs at your reaction, you can’t help but admire this more devious side of him. “You know, you’re not as scary as you seem.”
Now that just won’t do. Sure, you’ll admit you have a soft spot for this particular mortal, but that doesn’t mean he’s allowed to believe he has any real power. To rectify his perception, you tighten your grip around his throat until he gasps again and his eyes roll back from the pleasure.
“You don’t think so?” He moans as you continue to apply pressure. “I could do so much to you, Jungkook. Your precious little life lies entirely in my hands.”
“Then take it,” he grunts before his eyes fly open so he can stare you down. “I’m yours, anyway.”
Oh?
Well, you’ve clearly succeeded in tempting him past the point of no return. Either that or he’s an exceptional poker player who knows when to call a bluff.
You decide to match his energy by bending over until your lips are only centimeters apart. Even the slightest movement from either of you could end Jungkook’s life as he knows it.
“Just one kiss and your days as a human end right here, right now.”
Jungkook merely smiles in return before pursing his lips, causing you to hold your breath in anticipation, but all he does is kiss the tip of your nose.
“Can’t wait.”
Fuck. As if he couldn’t get any damn hotter. There's nothing you love more than clear and utter devotion.
A pregnant pause passes over the room while you rise to your previous position. Jungkook tightens his arm around your waist to keep you perched in his lap, but you don’t let him leave it there for long.
“Nuh uh. Other hand, too.”
You press down on his trapped palm to illustrate your instruction, causing Jungkook to pout.
“But I wanna feel you.”
“You can touch me once you make me come. If you make me come,” you explain.
A resolute fire burns in his irises as he raises his opposite arm and lets you cross his wrists so you can keep him pinned to the couch with one hand.
He honestly looks unbelievable in this position. The drastic dichotomy between his big biceps and tiny waist is perfectly showcased for your admiration. If only you had more hands to explore his every vein and muscle while you fuck.
Jungkook must take notice of where your focus is because he tilts his hips up again to catch your attention.
“Like what you see?”
You tsk at him and shake your head. His confidence is undeniably sexy, but it’s also about time he remembers his place.
After moving your hand up from his neck, you force your two middle fingers into his mouth. Jungkook initially yelps in shock, but soon enough he hollows his cheeks and starts sucking on your digits.
While he zealously follows your command, you slowly push and pull your appendages in and out of his mouth. It leaves his chin shiny with spit as it dribbles out past his lips.
“Now I like what I see.”
Jungkook hums in approval while his tongue twirls around and in between your fingers. You have him right where you want him now; totally restrained by one hand and gagged by the other. If there were ever a time to fuck him into submission, it would be this moment.
So, you kneel far enough to leave only his tip inside you before slamming back down.
A muffled shriek is all you hear besides the wet squelch of your pussy sucking him in once again. His hands flex in your grasp as the rest of his body tenses and writhes in pleasure. Best of all, you don’t allow him to fully recover from the overwhelming ecstasy before you begin bouncing on his thighs.
Following just the first couple strokes, your pussy vehemently pulses and contracts because of how phenomenal riding Jungkook’s cock feels. Not only is his head seamlessly hitting your cervix, but he’s the perfect thickness to provide friction everywhere you need him to. You also grind against his pelvis on every downward thrust, stimulating your clit exactly how you like.
Jungkook’s own enjoyment is quite obvious, given that he hasn’t stopped shouting and his entire body reacts to every little thing you do. He’s sweating like a racehorse, his chest and neck are bright red from all the blood rushing through his veins, and you can smell the scent of exhilaration coming off of him in waves.
Even so, he still manages to meet each of your thrusts with one of his own from below. It seems he wasn’t exaggerating about putting his all into everything he does.
“You’re doing so well, baby,” you encourage him.
He moans at your praises while staring at you with those big, obsidian eyes you can’t get enough of. The comment must ignite something in him because he ramps up both the force and speed of his movements until he’s almost doing all the work. In fact, his actions are so harsh you have to pull your fingers from his mouth so you can hold onto his chest for support.
You hear him gasp once your digits are gone, but it quickly becomes a whimper when you start bucking your hips to match his pace. It creates a ferocious, sensual clapping sound of skin meeting skin that reverberates off the walls along with your tandem whines.
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”
Jungkook’s head is pointed towards the ceiling now as he mindlessly chants, but you want to witness his handsome face contorting with pleasure. So, you grab his chin and pull his focus back to you.
“Speechless, huh?”
All he can muster is a weak nod.
Before the ability to speak returns to him, you lean over and lick up the side of his neck. The tip of your tongue traces his jugular while the large vein erratically pulses beneath his skin. Afterwards, you nibble on his earlobe and trail your lips back down via wet kisses along his throat.
The sensation of your hot lips dancing across his skin produces a growl from deep within his chest. You can tell he longs to return the favor, too, because he keeps thrashing against your hand that’s still holding his own hostage.
“I won’t… I won’t last,” he confesses. “You feel too damn amazing.”
“Excuse me?”
Within a split second, you sit upright again and use your free hand to slap him before harshly clutching his face; letting your fingertips dig into his round cheeks.
“Oh, fuck!”
“I don’t fucking think so,” you snap. “You don’t come until I say you do. Got that?”
“Ye… yes.”
Despite agreeing without any hesitation, it’s easier said than done, and you can feel him clenching his abdominal muscles in an attempt to control his release.
“Atta boy.”
You return your hand to his neck again and Jungkook moans while his eyes roll back. It’s stupidly attractive how much he enjoys being treated like your very own sex toy, including having his air supply severed.
After successfully stopping himself from letting go too soon, his disastrous tempo from before returns in full force. It feels fucking exquisite, and the melody of synchronized cries filling the room certainly proves that.
Although Jungkook’s working hard beneath you, the credit isn’t solely his own. You’re still expertly riding his dick like it’s the last thing you’ll do. Since you don’t ever get tired or feel any aches, it’s all too easy to continue bouncing up and down in his lap while grinding your hips together.
Truthfully, you didn’t think a human could ever provide you with such ecstasy, but fate must have played a large role in Jungkook being the one to break the barrier between your worlds.
Even so, it seems he’s still willing to give you more.
“Let me go so I can fuck you like you deserve,” he breathlessly pleads.
You aren’t normally one to go back on your word, but you’re intrigued to see what he can accomplish with the use of his hands.
“Don’t make me regret this, Jungkook.”
As soon as you release his wrists and hold onto his chest instead, he gropes your hips and plants his feet against the couch. He proceeds to ruthlessly pound into you while using his newfound grasp to force your body down, making his dick reach entirely new depths inside you.
The adjustment is so abrupt and animalistic you have no choice but to drive your nails into his pecs to keep yourself steady. There’s no longer anything for you to do besides hang on for the ride, although you keep contracting your muscles so your pussy squeezes Jungkook’s cock every time he sinks into you again.
“Oh, just like that,” you keen as your head lulls back.
“I wanna feel you let go. Want you to fucking soak my cock in cum.”
You chuckle and press down on the sides of his throat.
“Then you better make me.”
Jungkook takes your words to heart. Somehow, in complete contrast to what a human should be able to do, he escalates his efforts even further until the couch beneath you starts rattling and creaking like it’ll combust if you keep going any longer.
It leaves you speechless, to be quite honest. Not even a demon has fucked you so ferociously before and they don’t have any physical limitations.
Your body usually requires an excessive amount of stimulation to reach a climax, but you can already feel an orgasm looming just off the horizon with how hard Jungkook is working to break you off.
“Feels so good, Jungkook.”
“Come for me,” he pants. “Please, Y/N.”
There’s no point in holding back from giving him what he wants. Besides, his dick furiously moving in and out of your cunt and rubbing against your swollen walls feels too damn good to even attempt it.
When your muscles brutally constrict before relaxing around Jungkook, not only does it pull a low moan from your lips, but he gasps and throws his head back. Your pussy drowns his length in sticky arousal that makes it effortless for him to keep fucking you throughout the high. Additionally, his fingertips create deep divots in your skin as he refrains from following you straight into the pool of euphoria threatening to drag him under.
Just like everything prior, the sensation is undeniably amazing. Your climax erupts in your core and spreads through your entire body, seeping into every vein and nerve like a tsunami of pleasure. It unintentionally causes you to scratch Jungkook’s chest and tighten your grip on his throat, something you only realize when you hear his breathing turn shallow and ragged.
You quickly remove your hand from his neck for a reprieve and Jungkook takes a sharp inhale to refill his lungs. Meanwhile, you paint more red streaks on his tender skin by dragging your nails all the way down his abs.
“Fuck,” he sighs before finally halting the avid movement of his hips.
“Mm.” After sitting up in his lap, you start drawing little shapes along the taut ridges of his stomach. “You were great, baby.”
A tired, smug grin forms on Jungkook’s lips.
“Thank you.”
The genuine gratitude in his voice makes you smile.
“In fact, you did such a wonderful job that I think I’ll let you come next time,” you offer.
Your comment makes Jungkook’s eyes light up as he wraps an arm around your waist so he can lean against the armrest and still keep you seated on his cock.
“You mean it?”
“Well, you have to keep up the good work, but I’d argue you deserve it.”
Jungkook’s expression morphs into a proud smirk as his eyes flit around your face.
“How do you want me?”
“Now that’s a tough question.” It takes you a minute to ponder a response and you glide your fingertips back up his chest while you decide. “Because I would love for you to take me from the back, but then I don’t get to see this handsome face.”
You clutch his jaw and wiggle his head back and forth to make your point, causing Jungkook to blush and squeeze his eyes shut with a sweet laugh.
It’s still surprising how much you adore his mannerisms considering you thrive on sin and corruption, but what’s downright jarring is how easily he can switch between different personas. He’s clearly talented in the bedroom and can keep up with your wit and flirtations, all while being one of the most adorable humans you’ve ever encountered.
“Then I guess I’ll just have to overcompensate by fucking you as hard as I can,” he parries.
Exhibit A.
“Don’t go making promises you can’t keep, dollface.”
Jungkook gets a twinkle in his eye at your challenge and before you know it he’s laying you back on the couch, earning him an eyebrow raise.
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” You don’t get a chance to continue your banter because Jungkook shocks you by flipping you over onto all fours and yanking you towards him until your ass meets his crotch. It’s quite the bold move for a mortal and you find yourself gawking at him over your shoulder. “What?” He thrusts forward so his hard cock slides between your folds and teases your clit. “You want it rough, don’t you?”
“I think you’re becoming a little too comfortable,” you note.
That damn shimmer in his eyes just grows until the whole galaxy is taunting you in a deep shade of brown.
“Confident,” he corrects you.
You click your tongue at his response before reaching back to steal one of his hands resting on your hipbone.
“Then put your money where your mouth is.”
When you place his palm on the crown of your head to imply what he should do, Jungkook’s eyebrows shoot up his forehead. He recovers quickly, though, and soon enough heeds your demand by forcing your face into the couch cushions at the same time his other hand pushes down on your waist to make your back arch.
“My pleasure,” he grunts across another thrust that sinks his cock deep inside you again.
Despite experiencing this mere minutes ago, the new position and his entire length entering you at once elicits a guttural moan from you both. His dick fills you up so impeccably and from behind his tip is already kissing your cervix. He makes you feel so warm and full, but what you truly can’t wait for is the sensation of his cum seeping into your cunt.
Jungkook still hasn’t moved since sheathing himself within your satin walls because he’s too busy savoring the moment. You can hear him groaning behind you and his grasp on both your head and hip are becoming bruising.
“You doing alright back there?”
He produces a noise somewhere between a chuckle and a scoff.
“I didn’t think it was possible for you to feel any tighter, but this angle is fucking insane.”
His hips rear back before you can respond and suddenly he’s fucking you with the force of a thousand men again. Due to your face being smushed against the leather, you can’t do much but moan and maintain your position while Jungkook relentlessly abuses your g-spot.
It feels phenomenal and you know without a shadow of a doubt that bringing home with you is a nonnegotiable. There’s not a chance in Hell you’ll ever let this be the last time he stretches you apart on his cock.
“Holy fucking shit,” Jungkook curses under his breath. “Feels so fucking good.”
Along with his mindless ramblings, he pushes down harder on your head while gripping your ass with his opposite hand until your flesh bulges out between his digits. A moment later, a stinging sensation follows the loud clap caused by him spanking you.
“Shit, do that again,” you moan.
Jungkook instantly obeys and smacks you as hard as he can, making you lurch forward until he grabs the meat of your ass again to yank you back into him.
“So even a demon likes being fucked like a slut, huh?”
His statement causes you to snicker and turn your head so you can see him.
“Only when the person’s doing it right,” you counter.
The last thing you witness before Jungkook shoves your face back down is a proud grin.
His attention returns to the main event afterwards and you have to admit both the strength and tempo of his strokes are beyond ambitious. He’s railing into you as though he’s the immortal being and it sends your eyes rolling straight into your skull.
You’ve always loved this position, but doing it with Jungkook is an exceptional experience. Between his pelvis repeatedly meeting your ass, his balls slapping your clit, and his big cock molding your walls into his shape, you can’t fathom a more erotic combination.
In fact, it’s so immaculate you can already feel another climax building in your gut. All you need is just a little more effort from the man currently spearing you on his dick. Not because it’s necessary to make you come, but because you want to know how far he’ll push himself.
“Harder, baby.”
Poor Jungkook chokes as his hips momentarily falter.
“Ha — harder?”
“What?” You rise from your elbows so you can twist your neck enough to make eye contact with him. “You can’t handle that?”
Jungkook’s face of pure determination lights a fire in your belly that you’re dying to have him quench.
Rather than replying, he twirls your hair around his fingers and tugs until your head is so far back you can almost count the paint chips on the ceiling. Then he plants his other hand atop your own on the leather before falling forward so his chest is resting on your spine.
With his lips right beside your ear now, he nibbles on your cartilage while slotting his digits between yours.
“I can handle anything, baby,” he snarls.
The new angle provides him with more stability that he utilizes to give you precisely what you’re asking for. Without another thought, he retreats until only his cockhead remains inside, just past your tight circle of nerves, and holds the position for an irritating amount of time.
“You trying to tease me?”
Jungkook chuckles as his head dips so he can venerate your neck.
“Something like that.”
When he begins again, you genuinely experience what it’s like to be a human.
He immediately starts pounding into you so mercilessly the couch nudges closer to the wall every time he enters you. You can’t feel pain or suffer a bruise, but if you could, you imagine you would be black and blue from how hard his hips are slamming into your ass. Not to mention the severe headache he’d be giving you from how firmly he’s clutching and yanking on your hair.
“Fuck… Jungkook…” you mumble between thrusts.
Another deep laugh tickles your ear.
“Hard enough for you?”
His hand totally encompasses your own, his fingertips pressing down on your palm, as he uses the leverage to maintain his inhuman pace.
It’s the most embarrassing moment in your entire thousand-year-long existence because you can’t find the wherewithal to answer him. You’re too awestruck by his sweaty, taut chest rubbing against your back and his cock ravaging your pussy.
Your lack of response tells him everything he needs to know, and you can practically smell the immense pride wafting off him.
Another orgasm is dangerously close to overpowering your senses, but you want to feel him paint your cunt in his seed before then. Plus he really deserves to bust his load after what you’ve put him through tonight. So, you focus on speaking rather than the myriad of sensations he’s providing.
“Can you feel me pulsing around you?”
“Fuck, of course I can.”
“Then come with me. Not a second before or after, got it?”
Jungkook nods where his face is still buried in your neck, but you also sense a hint of nervousness on behalf of him not wanting to disappoint you.
Cute.
As both your highs approach, Jungkook’s moans grow louder and his breathing becomes nothing more than short, erratic puffs of air. It’s obvious how close he is and you clench your core to give him that final push.
In response, he whines into your skin as his harsh strokes shift to just grinding against your ass because the ecstasy is too overwhelming.
“Please, baby, I can’t…”
“Don’t you dare,” you warn him.
“Y/N,” he cries in desperation.
After only a couple more penetrating thrusts, your pussy convulses and drenches Jungkook’s cock in essence, and just as instructed, he comes at the exact same time with a loud, broken sob.
His hot cum floods your cunt as he whimpers and continues to roll his hips into you. In turn, your orgasm makes you unabashedly moan and fall forward onto your elbows. Both your bodies shake while intense euphoria surges through you until all you can feel is one another.
By the time your climaxes end, the only sound in the room is you two panting and the wet squelch of Jungkook still lazily fucking you.
“I… damn,” he rasps.
You chuckle.
“Good job, dollface.”
With that, you collapse onto the couch and involuntarily pull Jungkook down with you since he’s still nestled deep inside your walls. The two of you lie there just catching your breath and letting your bodies relax until he eventually releases your hair and peels himself off your back.
You’re too exhausted to pay attention to his movements, but you can hear him stumbling across the room. Then all of the sudden he’s rolling you over and gently running a soft towel between your legs to clean you up.
His natural attentiveness makes you giggle.
“You don’t have to do that.”
Jungkook weakly shakes his head.
“I’m nothing if not a gentleman.” Once he’s done, he tosses the rag aside and crashes into the armrest. A silent moment passes before his expression turns inquisitive. “You can’t… you can’t get pregnant, right?”
“No,” you laugh. “I don’t have reproductive organs.”
“Oh, good.”
“What? You don’t want to raise a half human, half demon baby with me?”
He smiles and tilts his head to and fro like he's actually contemplating it.
“I suppose it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.”
Following an affectionate shake of your head, you sit up so you’re mirroring his position across from him.
Even after everything you’ve already done tonight, you notice his eyes drinking you up from head to toe. It fills you with accomplishment and reminds you of the task at hand.
“So, you made up your mind yet?”
Jungkook’s eyes tilt down while he fiddle with his fingers.
“I have. Think I did before my dick was even inside you,” he admits. “Is that pathetic?” He glances up and you can see all the different emotions swimming in his eyes. “I mean, shouldn’t I have some more respect for my mortality?”
“No.” Your casual response earns you a questioning look. “You want what you want. There’s no shame in that.”
Your answer seems to satisfy him somewhat because his hands fall to his sides and he sits up straighter.
“What will it be like for the people I leave behind?”
“It’ll be as though you vanished without a trace.”
He hums in acknowledgment.
“I guess I should leave a note then.”
Jungkook doesn’t wait for a response before standing and rummaging through his desk to find a pen and paper. While he does, you scoop your dress up from the floor and shimmy into it. You also grab his clothes and place them on the couch for him.
Once he’s done, he takes a deep breath and turns in your direction. You gesture towards the pile of black material and he graciously bows his head before throwing the different articles of clothing back on.
You situate yourself on his desk where the note now lies as you wait for him to finish, sitting on the edge so your feet dangle just off the ground.
Curiosity gets the better of you, and you find yourself glancing down at the small piece of paper taped to the wood so it doesn’t get disturbed.
It’s surprisingly short, but you suppose it states everything it needs to. Written in Korean, it reads:
Don’t worry about me. I’m okay. I love you.
It could be addressed to anybody, which you’re positive is the reason he kept it so vague. His final words will bring comfort to everyone from his family, band members, and multitude of fans all around the world.
You wish you could say you feel bad he has to leave such a wonderful life behind, but you honestly don’t. No matter how much you adore your little mortal, you still have an agenda as a demon and you’re getting precisely what you want.
After hopping off the desk, you contemplate how to go about actually sealing the deal. Even though Jungkook agreed to come with you, humans often hesitate on big decisions at the last second. You don’t want to kiss him by force, since that could cause resentment, but you do want to return home soon.
Your worries end up being for naught, because when you turn towards Jungkook to ask him a question, you hear him exclaim under his breath.
“So, how do you —”
“Fuck it.”
Everything happens so fast you don’t even realize what’s occurring until you feel Jungkook’s lips pressing against your own. The foreign taste and sensation initially shocks you, and you even squeak when he passionately slots your mouths together as his fingers rake into your hair.
On instinct, your fingers curl around the fabric of his torn shirt to tug him closer and Jungkook contentedly hums. No doubt because he’s finally making up for all the times he wanted to kiss you throughout the night. He’s a damn good kisser, too. His lips are soft, warm, and move in perfect harmony with your own.
You aren’t certain how long you two make out, but you know it’s enough time to be transported back home together. Especially once you can feel the familiar heat of your humble abode swirling around you.
Jungkook pulls away first, but his eyes stay closed for a moment while you admire his features in the hazy, red ambiance of Hell for the first time. He’s sporting a blissful smile as though he didn’t just bid farewell to the only life he’s ever known and it causes you to giggle with pride.
When his eyes do fly open, they land on you before something over your shoulder catches his attention. The already large spheres widen dramatically as he observes the unfamiliar space. You hear his heartbeat speed up and sense waves of anxiety and fear washing over him, but you think you know a decent remedy.
While he’s still busy surveying his new surroundings, including the grand pillars, ornate decor, and high ceilings of your home, you slowly walk backwards down the hall.
“Welcome home, Jungkook,” you chirp. “To Hell, that is.”
With a seductive wink, you turn on your heel and strut away from him. Once you’re a few feet ahead, you twist around to make a come hither motion with your pointer finger.
His eyebrows rise like he’s almost surprised you’re talking to him, but then his nerves seem to settle as a smirk grows on his lips.
“So, you coming or not?”
You continue towards your room after turning around again and just like magic, you soon hear a chuckle followed by the sound of Jungkook jogging to catch up with you.
Jungkook is your brother’s boyfriend’s co-worker, they own a tattoo and piercing parlour. In other words, he’s tall, gorgeous, has his passion literally etched into his skin, looks incredibly good in a man-bun, and is semi-unattainable for you. Why? Well…you’re not entirely sure but him ditching right after a very heated make-out session sure isn’t a good sign. His extremely poor mood the next week sure isn’t either, but the only way to fix it is to face the beast head-on. Right?
›› AU: Tattoo Artist
›› Genre: Smut / Angst
›› Rating: 18+ explicit sex
›› Pairing: JJK x Reader
›› Word Count: 17.7k
Warnings Include:
Lots of swearing, conflict, a false accusation of cheating on a third party (it’s nothing serious please trust me), Jungkook being a dick, the death of a coat hanger, mentions of internalised homophobia, fear of coming out, and unaccepting parents.
Sexual content: rough (protected) sex, piercings, heavy petting, teasing (with and without other people around), lots of tongue action, cunnilingus, fingering, dirty talk, marking, nipple play, mentions of riding, blowjobs, and mxm sex.
A/N: This one is for my beloved friend @xiubaek-13 who’s stood by me and my tumblr journey for over 3 years now. Our friend anniversary was last week, the 16th of January, so it’s a little late. But I hope you still love it. Remember, you gave me this idea, so you shall face the consequences. Enjoy <3
“Like, it’s so unfair,” you groan, arm slung over your face. “He kisses so well. I’m talking toe-curling, spine-arching, breathtakingly good. He really didn’t need to decorate his tongue with a gold medal to celebrate it.” You’ve replayed the events of Saturday night many times since it happened. The way Jungkook’s hands had slid under your shirt. Your thighs spread over his. Kissing, grabbing, moaning. It really wasn’t fair, the way his tongue pressed into your mouth and made you cave at the very first swipe. The first subtle brush of his golden tongue piercing against your lips. How he—
➵ summary; in which jungkook realizes you’re not a 15-year-old girl with a silly crush anymore, but rather a seductive, young woman with her eyes set on him. you’re tempting but is it worth the risk for jungkook?
➵ series masterlist · playlist · risqué tag · taglist
pairing; jungkook x f. reader
word count; 9.2k
rating; 18+
content; age gap au, reader is a tease, mutual sexual attraction, bathroom sex, smut/angst
warnings; swearing, slight choking, oral sex (m. receiving), fingering, dirty talk, degrading names (jk calls reader a slut and a brat), bit of dom!jk, slight exhibitionism, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, guys!), creampie, cum eating
a/n; here it is!! i hope you like it and enjoy it as well <3 thank you sm to the anon to requested this, i hope i did a good job writing it lol - if any of you have questions after reading, let me know in an ask or dm me!
ps. this is heavily unedited so if you see any mistakes and typos, just close your eyes and pretend you didn’t thanks :D
Jungkook is your brother’s stupidly hot best friend who has been around since you learned how to read and write. He has always known where the line is when it comes to you. The problem? You don’t.
PAIRING: brother’s bsf!jk x fem!reader
GENRE: smut w plot
WC: 13k
WARNINGS: biker!jk, brother!jaehyun (my fics mean nothing wo him), 3 year age gap, jealousy, reader’s a TEASE, she’s also so horny it’s stupid, don’t let the banner fool you it’s very summer in this, smut wise: uhh, they have sex on his bike, dry humphing (a lost art), m masturbation, riding, he has a thing for her tits, so he fucks her tits, BIG D JK AGENDA, dirty talk
NOTES: im aware this is long overdue but hear me out here!! this was going to be like 6k words max but things just…kept happening…anyways this is pure filth and self indulgence. i lost my mind after that fucking tiktok his slutty ass posted and ofc it led us here. i hope this satisfies your fantasies the way it did mine, enjoy <3
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
Jeon Jungkook is so unbelievably hot.
Though it’s not the kind that makes your eyes linger and your heart flutter. No, it’s nothing like that. He is so ridiculously attractive it leaves your pussy aching, clenching so hard around nothing you wish it’s him you bounce on until sunset blurs into sunrise. You almost feel your muscles physically hurt by how he’s always so close yet so far away when the only thing you desire is for the space between you to become a rhythm and draw you in until distance doesn’t really exist anymore.
But that doesn’t happen, that never happens when it’s Jungkook.
He’s Jaehyun’s best friend– your older brother who loves you more than anything. Your brother who still babies you because you fell off your bike and broke your arm that one time when you were sixteen. Your brother who trusts Jungkook in that effortless, unquestioning way that only comes from years of knowing someone too well– because they’ve known each other since Jungkook knocked on your door when they were nine and you were six. He’d looked up at your parents with those big brown eyes of his and asked, so politely your mother still gushes about it at family gatherings, if he could play with your brother.
That was all it took for Jungkook to stay. You remember how at first, it started with the small things. His shoes left by the door like the spot had been assigned to him, his voice echoing through the walls so often it soon blended into the background…Those little moments stretched into something bigger and bigger before you could even notice. And suddenly, he was there for everything. Anywhere from holiday dinners to summer getaways, Jungkook was always there.
But he never gave you anything.
Jaehyun is the kind of brother who treats every man like a problem, like a timed bomb ticking in the corner, patiently waiting for the right time to blow up into flames. He’s the kind of brother who lectures you about never trusting a guy, the kind who would show up at his door with something burning behind his eyes and a fist ready to throw. Not asking for questions, not looking for answers.
If anything was to ever happen between you and Jungkook, Jaehyun wouldn’t just be mad. He’d fucking lose it.
So Jungkook has always kept his distance from you.
He makes sure it’s not anything obvious, but it’s never enough for you to not notice either. The way he never stands next to you for too long, the way his hands stay to himself even when it’s not convenient, the way he looks at you just enough to acknowledge your presence, yet never enough to let it mean anything. He has always been controlled around you, way beyond measure and annoying as hell.
Because you’ve seen him with other people. You’ve seen how he talks and how he laughs. He lets himself be less careful, less contained. Just more…him. And what bothers you the most isn’t that he ignores you, he never ignores you.
Jungkook does notice you. You know it, he knows it, he definitely knows you know it too. But what’s so infuriating is the fact that he actively chooses not to react, not to acknowledge anything that comes in his way from you. It’s like he’s decided long ago that whatever line existing between the two of you is one he’s never willing to cross. Which would be fine if he wasn’t so damn irresistible.
But he is.
And tonight, you’re a little more aware of it than usual. Maybe it’s the tight little dress that’s framing your body so well you had to twirl in front of the mirror more than once just to take it in, because it just looks that good. Or maybe, it’s something else entirely; one of those nights where whatever he usually holds so carefully contained inside sits a little closer to the surface than it normally does.
You don’t think too much of it as you step out of your room, walking down the hallway barefoot as you fix your earrings. A voice drifts away from the living room until it reaches your ears. You know the voice belongs to Jaehyun, he’s home, that’s not surprising. What’s surprising is that he’s not alone.
You round the corner with your mind elsewhere, the only thought lingering on your mind being whether the shade of your lipstick is a little too dark or not. You’re already halfway into whatever you were going to say when you briefly pause by the mirror to smooth down your dress.
“Hey, do you mind if–” You start, but you cut yourself off, because when you finally drift your eyes away from the hem of your skirt and lift them up, Jungkook’s reflection stares right back at you from behind.
He’s leaning back against the couch comfortably, legs spread wide like he’s been there for so long his body has melted and molded into the cushion. One of his arms is thrown over the backrest as the other is holding a can of beer he’s not really drinking from. Jaehyun isn’t there with him for some reason, probably whipping something up in the kitchen even though he can't cook to save his life.
And when you turn around to face him fully, there’s a beat where his eyes move over you, all the way from the very top of your head to the bottom of your feet. You swear his eyes linger for a second too long on your chest before he drops them down and lets his mind register you properly.
“Going somewhere?” He asks, one brow raised as he spreads his legs even further.
You nod once, pretending to be mindless and nonchalant about it. “Just for drinks with some friends.” Technically, you’re going out with a friend. But before you can even think of elaborating on that further, Jaehyun walks in. And that’s all it takes for Jungkook to look away like it doesn’t mean anything.
“Finally.” He scoffs before taking a large sip from his beer. “You take longer than anyone I know to get ready.”
It takes half a minute of consecutive swift blinking for you to drag your attention away from Jungkook and pull yourself back together. “Relax.” You mutter when you’ve recollected your senses, rolling your eyes. “You’re not even coming with me.”
“As if I’d want to.” He responds immediately. “I don’t want to deal with your friends.”
“Hey!” You exclaim, pulling your browns together. “You like my friends.”
“When they’re sober and quiet.” He corrects.
You huff out a laugh, stepping further into the room, grabbing your purse from the table. “Liar.”
“I never lie.” Jaehyun responds, making his way over to the couch before dropping himself down next to Jungkook. You shake your head with a light scoff, barely listening anymore, because Jungkook’s gaze is fixed on you once again and you don’t know if you can continue holding up this stupid act of nonchalance if he doesn’t tear his eyes away from you soon enough.
“Text me when you get there.” Jaehyun reminds you for the third time today, and you nod along halfheartedly, checking your purse one last time for good measure.
“Yeah, okay. Promise.”
“You better.” He mutters.
You sling your bag over your shoulder, turning slightly just to sneak one last look at the man who’s managed to get your pussy tingling with so much as one look and two careless words. But when your gaze finds him and you realize he’s still looking at you, you think that maybe, he isn’t as untouchable as he makes it out to be.
He shifts under your presence, like your eyes weren’t something he expected to land a certain way yet did anyway, setting his drink down on the table as you move past him. The motion brings you close just enough, and his hand brushes against yours in passing. It’s light and fleeting, the kind of contact that normally would be dismissed in seconds. But you feel it all too clearly, so much that even after he pulls away, his fingertips linger on your skin in a way that burns until it leaves a permanent trace.
Because he doesn’t pull away immediately, not fast enough like he usually does. There’s a fraction of a second where his fingers stay there before he retracts like he remembered it a little too late.
And when you finally leave, Jungkook finds himself drowned inside the drunken haze of your sweet scent and the warmth of your presence– so strong that he physically feels the way it’s begging for him to follow.
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
The place Jaemin picked is one of those upscale cocktail bars where the wine is just so mediocre you’re forced to order overpriced cocktails instead. The lighting is warm and dim, because it always is in places like this– casting everything in a golden glow so that the glint makes it easier to ignore what doesn’t quite live up to the price tag. It’s busy just the way you like, filled with enough people to feel alive without being crowded.
Jaemin is already there by the time you reach the table that's reserved for you, leaning back into his seat like the air around him bends so intently that the place belongs to him. His legs are spread just a little wider than what’s acceptable, and the drink in his hand swings lazily from side to side like it’s been there for long with the sole purpose of giving him something to fidget with.
He smirks immediately when you walk in. “There she is.” He sings, dragging his gaze over you before continuing. “You look…happy.” He says, cocking a brow like he’s questioning his own choice of words.
You slide into the seat across from him, setting your bag onto the one next to you. “When am I not happy?”
“This is like, when your hot friend from statistics called me cute, kind of happy.”
You scoff, reaching for the menu before letting your eyes scan through the list of beverages. “You threw a chair and got banned from the cafe you took her to.”
Jaemin rolls his eyes. “I moved a chair.”
“You threw it and it hit someone’s leg.”
He pauses. “Not the point.”
You giggle, placing the menu back onto the table. “Exactly the point, she got back together with her ex two days after your date.”
He watches you for a second, then shakes his head. “God, you’re exhausting.”
“And,” You start, dragging the word. “You still text me every day.”
“What can I say, you’re a part of my routine.” Jaemin winks at you before turning his head to call over a waiter. When he comes by, you order a cocktail too pink to be taken seriously, and Jaemin asks for a kind of whiskey you’re sure tastes even worse than its name. Because no one really enjoys whiskey, it’s just for show. A whole performance created by men trying to match up to their fragile egos. Not that you're saying Jaemin fits the profile.
He leans forward when the waiter walks away. “Alright.” He says. “What did you do?”
You tilt your head, pretending to think. “I didn’t exactly do something.”
He gives you an unimpressed look. “And you expect me to believe that?”
“Yes!” You exclaim. “I really didn’t do anything. He just…slipped.”
“Who?” He pulls his brows together. “Don’t tell me this is about Jungkook again.”
You lean back into your seat, unable to help the mischievous smile spreading across your face. Jaemin groans when it clicks, realizing exactly what you’re talking about. “No he didn’t.” He says matter of factly.
You met Jaemin your freshman year of high school, and you slipped in each other’s spaces so easily you don’t even remember how. Just that by the time it mattered, he was already there. In your messages at ungodly hours, in the best parts of your worst days, in the middle of things he had no reason to involve himself in but did anyway.
And at some point, without either of you really saying it out loud, you built something strong enough to stay and fight for.
So naturally, Jaemin knows Jungkook. How he moves, how he talks, how careful he is without making it obvious— only when it comes to you. He knows the version of him that exists around your brother; easy, controlled, and distant just enough to never cause any problems.
So when you say that Jungkook slipped, he knows exactly what you mean, even though he would never grant you the pleasure of being right. But most importantly, he knows that if you're bringing it up like this, something has actually shifted.
“He did.” You say without an ounce of hesitation. “He looked at me like he…forgot everything. Like there was a feeling he’d been suppressing and he forgot why for a second." You pause, sipping your drink. "And!" You exclaim like you forgot to add something so crucial. "His hand brushed mine and he didn't pull away." You argue.
Jaemin sinks deeper into his seat. “Can we please move on from that man? Jungkook doesn’t slip, that’s literally his thing. I can set you up with Mark, if you want. Saw his dick once in the lockers and let me tell you, he’s huge.”
Your lips pull into a pout. “I don’t want Mark, I want Jungkook.”
Jaemin exhales through his nose before taking a large gulp from his drink. “Let’s say you’re right, Jaehyun would fucking kill you.”
You shrug, mindlessly tracing your nail along the rim of your glass. “We’ll figure that out, I just wanna see how far it goes. What it takes for him to lose control."
“You’ve liked him way too long for this to end well.”
You scoff. “I do not like him.”
Jaemin deadpans. “You used to sit on the stairs just to watch him and your brother play video games.”
“That's because I wanted to hop on his bones.” You argue.
He lifts a brow accusingly. “When you were fifteen?”
You pause for a second, tongue poking the inside of your cheek as you watch over your friend. “Fuck you.” You mutter under your breath.
You breathe again before leaning forward slightly, lowering your voice just enough. “You’ve seen him, Jaemin. He’s always so– so put together. Like nothing touches and sticks to him enough.”
“Yeah.” Jaemin nods. “Because he’s not stupid.”
The corner of your mouth twitches. “And it’s my duty to fuck up his morals.”
He exhales sharply, shaking his head. “You’re gonna drag me into this, aren’t you?”
“You’re already in it." You smile at him innocently, bating your eyelashes. “You’re gonna sit next to me and look pretty."
“Wow, the way you love me.”
You wink at him, sipping your drink and letting the bitter taste of alcohol burn in your mouth. "Always."
“God,” He mutters. “You’re gonna fuck this up.”
Your lips twitch. “I’ll snap you a pic when he spreads his legs for me.”
“Please don’t.”
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
The opportunity presents itself on a silver platter.
You’d be stupid to not take it. Not when you’ve gotten him somewhere hot, wet and messy without even meaning to, as if the universe already knows exactly what you’re about to do with it.
You're stretched out on one of the chez-longs by the pool, body wrapped in the tiniest set of white bikinis in your wardrobe. That was definitely a lucky guess— a hot one to say the least. You're laying on your stomach with a book resting open in your hands with the sole purpose of being there, because you've read no more than two or five pages during the whole hour you spent here.
You had set the day aside and spared it for yourself— silenced your phone, shut everyone out, forced your mind into a kind of quiet that had no way out unless you tried hard enough. You had cleared everything until there was nothing to think about, nothing pulling at you from somewhere with something you didn't choose.
But it doesn't last.
The sliding door cuts through the quiet when you expect it the least, and when it opens, it brings Jaehyun with it. He walks in a way that's loud, careless, and already mid conversation with a couple of his friends trailing behind him.
And Jungkook too, of course.
You lower your book, push yourself onto your elbows, and then lift your sunglasses up into your hair. The exasperated breath you huff out goes unnoticed by both your brother, and his ridiculously loud friends as their voices swallow it up without wasting a second.
"Wow," You mutter, tilting your head to take a look at them. "Great."
Jaehyun spots you immediately. “Oh, you’re here.”
You scrunch your face a little, blinking up at him, shielding your face from the sun with a help of your hand even though it doesn't exactly work wonders. “I live here.”
“Right.” He says mindlessly. “Didn’t think you’d be outside.”
You scoff. “Clearly.”
After your exchange, Jaehyun walks over the lounge chairs across from you, tossing his towel onto one of them like there isn't enough for everyone and they're something to call dibs on. When in reality, they aren't. One of his friends, one you only vaguely recognize, blows out a low whistle as he walks by.
"Damn," He says, not even trying to be subtle about it. "Didn't know he had a sister like that."
Luckily, Jaehyun doesn't hear it, too busy arguing with Mingyu about sunscreen brands like either of them know what they're talking about.
But Jungkook does.
His head turns— maybe not immediately, maybe you're giving yourself too much credit and your imagination has started playing games on you— but you swear it does. His eyes narrow at his friend for a second too long before landing on you. And this time, you're sure there's something there. You're sure that if you were exaggerating and reading too much into every small detail last week, you aren't now.
His eyes linger on you as the oil you had put on catches the sunlight in a way that's impossible to ignore. The soft sheen traces every line and every curve of your body, shifting with movement until it reflects straight into his eyes.
Jungkook really doesn't mean to look. But the way the light hits your body— which he swears is literally the epitome of beauty— pulls in his attention without asking for permission. Suddenly, he's seeing too much and the tent in his shorts is growing and growing until the fabric tightens around his length and he can't bear doing nothing about it.
Though what really gets him isn't only how good you look— because that has always been a problem. It's how you exist in it so easily, so comfortable in the artwork dressed as your body. As his gaze dances over you, his head keeps spinning and spinning and suddenly, words he can never say out loud build at the tip of his tongue.
You're a fucking temptation.
You’re in the middle of flipping a page you haven’t been reading when his voice cuts in. “Didn’t know you’d be here.”
You glance up again. “And I didn’t know you were coming over.”
He shrugs. “Jaehyun asked.”
You nod slowly, pursing your lips. “I figured.”
There’s a beat filled with silence, one that stretches a little too long, one that leads you to realize he won’t be the first one to break it. So you turn over and sit up fully, setting your book aside. “Are you gonna get in or keep standing there?” You ask lightly.
But it takes him longer than a minute to hear the question. Because as you sit up and your front faces him, Jungkook feels the air knocking out of his lungs.
Your tits.
They sit so round and perky under the thin fabric of your bikini top. The white colour extenuates the soft swell of your boobs perfectly and Jungkook can't help but wonder what else would paint them white like this. As if things couldn't get worse for him, your tits bounce slightly when you move, and Jungkook fucking loses it.
He huffs a quiet breath in hopes of masking the ethical dilemma he's got going on inside. “Don’t really feel like it.”
You hum softly, dragging your gaze over him. “Well,” You start. “That’s too bad.”
His brows pull together. “Why?”
You give him a calculated smile, letting the moment sink in before answering. “You’d be fun to watch.”
You see the way your words land immediately– that almost-reaction he covers before it reaches too far. “Yeah?” He says, voice lower now, unable to help himself. “You watch everyone like that?”
You shrug. “Only the ones nice to look at.”
He huffs out a soft scoff under his breath before reaching for the hem of his shirt, then pulls it off in one swift motion. You try to keep your expression neutral. And you swear, you really do. But when he looks like that, it’s impossible.
Because Jungkook looks ridiculous like this, chest toned and bare and so fucking hot. He looks like someone who jumped out of your dirtiest fantasies and landed straight in your aching pussy. Your muscles grow sore despite having laid down all morning and you have to physically stop yourself from drooling and licking along the lines framing his abs.
At the end of the day, you're just a girl who knows what she likes. Sue you.
You exhale softly through your nose, shaking your head mindlessly like it doesn’t matter, like you don’t want to jump and bounce on him until his shape is permanently engraved in you. “Real subtle.”
He glances at you, cocking a brow. “You asked.”
You tilt your head. “I wouldn’t say asked is the correct word.”
“You’re welcome anyway.” He says, tossing his shirt beside you.
You laugh, pushing yourself up from the sunbed. “You’re so annoying.” So annoyingly hot.
When you’re finally standing, he’s so close you don’t hear whatever bullshit Jaehyun yells from the pool. Shut up, brother. Your girl is standing on business.
You step forward towards the edge of the pool when the lack of distance starts feeling like you want to drop down to your knees and take him into your mouth until he's whining and crying. Because it's one thing to be aware of his presence, but a whole another thing to feel the warmth of him sizzling through your bones.
You crouch down, dragging your hand along the water. "You getting in?" You ask, glancing up at him.
Jungkook lets out a breathy chuckle, gives you one final look, and before you know it, he's jumping straight into the pool. Water rises fast the moment his body drops in, splashing and hitting your skin in cool droplets.
Jungkook shakes his head, dragging a hand over his face. "Happy?" He asks, looking at you behind wet curls as he brushes them away from his face.
Oh the sight he is.
You tilt your head, looking down at him as you narrow your eyes teasingly. “A little.”
Before you can move, his hand catches your wrist and pulls you forward. You lose your balance and a sharp splash cuts through your body, skin burning with the unexpected hit. And suddenly, all you can feel is the cold chill of water rushing up your spine mixed with the warmth of his body.
Shit.
When you open your eyes, you realize you're fully pressed against him. Your arms instinctively wrap around his shoulders and your legs around his waist before you have the chance to realize what's happening.
For a second, it's like the earth stops rotating— like it forgets to revolve around the sun and time forgets to move along with it. The water ripples slowly until it calms down, the noise around you fading into something so distant and irrelevant. Because right now, all you can feel is him. The way his broad chest sits solid against your soft boobs and the warm touch of him on your skin that's suddenly everywhere.
Jungkook goes completely still the exact way you do, like he didn't expect this either yet can't bring himself to do anything rational about it. The rush keeps you away from registering his hold around your thighs until he shifts slightly, securing your place in his arms.
Your faces are so close that his breath is hitting your skin in that warm, intimate kind of way you don’t share with just anyone. But the intimacy slips over your head just like that and all you can focus on is the way his hardened length presses against you beneath the water.
“Fuck.” It slips under his breath, barely audible even for you considering the lack of distance between you and him. But of course, you hear it. You'd be a fool to miss a slip like that, because you'd notice that kind of desperation from a mile away
He pulls back abruptly, like the warmth becomes too much and suffocates him all at once, so much that he can't feel oxygen reaching his lungs anymore. Distance folds itself into something necessary for him to function properly again, and just like that, your arms slip away and your legs drop back into the water.
Then you give him a smile, teasing and knowing, like this was all you needed to have him all bare and figured out in the middle of your palm. "This is new." You murmur. "You're getting reckless."
His jaw tightens. “I’m not.”
“You just pulled me into the pool.” You say, crossing your arms over your chest.
“You were standing too close.”
You laugh softly. “That’s your excuse?”
“It’s the truth.”
You tilt your head to study him with a little more care. The way he's been holding onto the tension between you like his life depends on it just so that it doesn't crack, the way restraint sits so uncomfortably on his face even though he has no choice but to keep it together a little longer— it's all a bit more clear now.
"Right." You say lightly, then turn away like nothing about what just happened is worth digging further. But on the inside, you're already thinking about the phone call you'll have with Jaemin. Because you were right from the start, that wasn't nothing, not even close.
You just got what you wanted.
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
Jaehyun absolutely loves Jaemin. He just won't ever say it like that.
It shows in other ways— been there since the day you came home all giddy and giggly, talking too fast about the first ever friend you made in high school, barely able to get his name out properly out of excitement. Jaehyun remembers it anyway. He remembers the day you said Jaemin like it already meant something, like the way the letters rolled out of your tongue was enough to know he was going to stay.
He didn't question it then, he doesn't question it now.
So when Jaemin shows up unannounced at your door and lets himself in without asking, Jaehyun doesn't tell him to leave. He complains with a roll of his eyes, but offers him a can of beer anyway. Because accommodating an uninvited Jaemin has become a given way too long ago.
Jaemin exists in the space the same way Jungkook does, even though he slipped into it a few years later, like they both carved out a place for themselves in the dearest corners of your lives and never really left.
The difference is, Jaemin doesn't really have to keep his distance.
After inviting himself inside, he stretches across your couch, fetches the drink straight out of Jaehyun's hand before your brother gets to offer it properly, then reaches for you absentmindedly the way he always does.
Jaehyun notices it sometimes, just enough to be bothered by it. He isn't exactly a fan of seeing a man touch you like that, even if it's Jaemin. He rolls his eyes, tells him to stop being annoying, but Jaemin just nods along with that loose, careless grin; pulling you closer regardless.
You lean into him just enough to make things worse for your brother, your shoulder pressing into his chest as you reach past him for the small bowl of nuts Jaehyun was about to hand you, until Jaemin beats you to it.
"Can you not steal everything that's mine?" Jaehyun mutters. Already huffing, already annoyed.
Jaemin doesn't even look at him, stuffing his mouth with a handful of peanuts. "Relax. You were literally handing it out."
Jaehyun deadpans. "Well, not to you."
You laugh, grabbing a few of the almonds. "You're both insufferable."
"You're one to talk." Jaehyun shoots back immediately. "You encourage him."
"I don't encourage him." You argue, but the lack of distance between you and your friend is still questionable.
Jaemin glances down at you, eyes grazing over your bare legs draped across his lap before lifting a brow. "You definitely do."
You tilt your head, meeting his gaze with narrowed eyes. "You're very impressionable, that's not my fault."
"I'm not impressionable."
"You walked in uninvited and stole a drink in under thirty seconds."
"Eh," He squints his eyes, pretending to think. "You offered it though."
"So you wouldn't have gone ahead and taken one if he didn't?" You ask, cocking a brow.
Jaehyun points at him in victory, ecstatic at the newfound support from you. "Exactly."
Jaemin ignores him completely and turns to you, his arm still draped over your shoulders. "You weren't complaining five minutes ago."
"Suddenly I'm feeling a little wiser."
Jaemin rolls his eyes. "No, you're not."
You pause mid sip like you're considering putting up a fight, but you change your mind as you gulp down the drink, dropping your shoulders. "Fine, I'm not."
Jaehyun exhales sharply, dragging a hand along his face like he's already exhausted. "See, this is exactly what I mean. You two are unbearable together."
"You're the one who keeps letting him in." You say lightly.
"I don't let him in." He argues. "He just shows up."
"You'd shut the door in my face if you wanted to." Jaemin says.
"You'd climb in through the window."
Jaemin nods with a serious look on his face, like what he's agreeing to is a reasonable solution. "Yeah, I would."
You're still laughing when the bell rings, and Jaehyun mutters a quiet finally under his breath as he pushes himself up from the couch. Jungkook and Mingyu walk in one behind the other, Jaehyun holding the door open by the corner.
"Took you long enough." He complains, unimpressed.
Mingyu scoffs lightly. "We're not late."
"You always are. I'm the only one with a sense of urgency here."
Mingyu doesn't argue further, he heads straight for the kitchen instead. As he's busy opening and closing cabinets one by one like he owns like place, Jungkook lingers a little longer at the entrance before following Jaehyun inside.
He looks good, he looks so fucking good it takes everything in you to not spread your legs right then and there. So you lean more into Jaemin, letting your skirt ride up with the movement. Because you'll get this man in your bed one way or the other and right now, there's nothing you can do besides rile him up a little and pray your brother doesn't notice.
He does.
Jaehyun's eyes flick between the two of you before he looks away again, jaw clenching just slightly. "Can you sit normally for once?"
But you don't move. You can't move when Jungkook's already looking at you like he's trying so hard not to slip. Not again. "Are we not sitting normally?" You ask, glancing down at yourself, pretending to be confused.
"No." He says flatly.
Jaemin shifts just enough to make it worse, his arm tightening around you even though it's completely unnecessary. "Feels pretty normal to me."
"That's because you're the problem."
You hum softly, clearly entertained now. "I think you're overreacting."
Jaemin nudges you with his elbow. "He's jealous."
"I'm not jealous of you."
"Wow." Jaemin says as he brings a hand to his chest, pretending to be offended. "That hurt."
Mingyu laughs from the kitchen, leaning against the counter with his drink in hand. "He's definitely jealous."
“I’m not jealous.” Jaehyun repeats, louder this time.
Mingyu shrugs as he drops onto the singular couch beside him. “Sounds like it.”
You laugh again, and it still sounds light and careless. But it doesn't really feel like it. Not when you can feel Jungkook's eyes digging holes into your exposed skin, like he's trying to do with his eyes what he can't with anything else. Because neither one of his fists have the privilege of breaking Jaemin's jaw right now.
He's not even trying to hide it now. Maybe because something bigger already slipped last week and there is no point in trying to recollect it back together, or maybe because Jaehyun has fallen into another pointless argument with Mingyu and a small glace or two won't hurt anybody. Doesn't really matter when he keeps giving you exactly what you're looking for.
Regardless, you're adamant on not giving in. You're a girl on a mission and you're going to compromise it for nothing.
So you shift closer, letting your hand slide further along Jaemin's arm before curling your fingers around his bicep like there's no other place you'd rather it be. Like this is nothing new, nothing worth paying attention to.
But it is.
Jungkook's eyes drop down to your legs— bare and unapologetic on Jaemin's lap. He lets them linger on the poor excuse of a skirt that's sitting uselessly on your hips, and then trails lines along your exposed legs all the way to the tip of your feet.
You don't have to look up to know he's watching, but you do anyway, just to see the way he's starting to break. Because this time, there's nothing careful about the way he's looking at you. The control is still there, but he's holding onto it for his dear life— barely.
The conversation around you keeps moving in a way that's constant and habitual— Jaehyun complaining, Mingyu laughing, Jaemin saying something in your ear you don't fully catch…Everything is safe and practiced.
Besides him.
Jeon Jungkook is not safe. God, he’s terrifying. Terrifyingly sexy and thoroughly unsafe.
You reach for your drink, take a slow sip, then set it back down like you've suddenly lost all interest and nothing is as entertaining anymore. "I'll be back." You say, pushing yourself up from the couch before anyone can question you about it.
"Don't disappear." Jaehyun mutters mid-conversation, barely glancing at you.
You hum something about him asking too for many things at once before turning away, making your way out of the living room fast so that no one has the chance to hold you there longer.
You take your sweet time walking down the hallway, hips swaying from side to side just in case a certain someone decides to follow behind. But you know he will, so you don't look back. Luckily, life smiles at you for another day and the sound of a second set of footsteps reaches you in no time.
The corner of your mouth lifts in satisfaction as you reach the bathroom door, letting your hand linger on the handle for half a second too long before pushing it open, like you're giving him time to catch up.
You don't bother closing the door, leaving it open as Jungkook steps in a beat or two after you, not forgetting to lock it after him.
"Stop it." He mutters finally, voice low and rough like he doesn't fully trust it to come out louder without giving something away.
Too bad he already has.
You tilt your head, looking up at him like you don't quite understand what he's talking about, lashes fluttering innocently even though you're far from it. "Stop what?"
When your gazes meet, it's like his eyes are whispering to you, telling you to come closer and let yourself melt into his touch until your breath is completely blown away. But instead of doing anything about it, instead of tugging you closer into him and ending this stupid game that has left both of you aching and soaring; he drags a hand down his face and does everything in his power to pull himself back into the control he had once mastered.
"You know what." He says, exhaling sharply through his nose.
You take a step closer, fed up with the distance he's forced you into. "I wanna hear you say it."
His jaw tightens as he looks at you, trying to figure out how far you're willing to take it. "You've been pushing this all night."
"Well then, let me remind you." You murmur, stepping even closer, until there's barely any space left between the two of you. "You followed me." You say, placing your index finger on his chest.
Your words land a certain way, you watch his reaction all the way through its birth and death. In the way his breath stutters audibly, in the way his eyes flick briefly down to your lips, in the way something between light and lust flashes across his features before he can lock it back down again.
He scoffs as his eyes drift away from yours. "You're out of your mind."
You shrug mindlessly, like nothing about this is as serious as he makes it out to be. "I've been told once. Or twice." You give him a smile, light and flirty.
He drops down his hand, then snaps his head towards you like he suddenly remembered something. "Do you think this is funny?" He asks,
You let your gaze drag over him slowly, completely unapologetic, taking your time with it before meeting his eyes.
"I think it's hot."
And you're met with silence. Oh, Jeon Jungkook, the fucking pussy you are.
That does it, you see it the second it lands, the second that suppressed urge in him slips past the point of recovery. It's still there— but thinner, frying, barely holding on. Like it's waiting for someone to cross the line first and it sure as hell won't be him.
So you do.
You close the space completely this time, your hand finding him again until it settles on his shirt and fists the fabric enough to pull him in. You're not testing the waters, not anymore. Everything is visible no matter how hard he's trying to pull it through and you're not going to let him slip past your fingertips when you've gotten him like this.
Jungkook inhales sharply, quick and uneven, like air catches in the middle of his chest before he can do anything about it. His hand moves instinctively, and just as you think he's going to push your hand away, he settles his hold on your waist.
He calls your name, voice dropping in a way that's raw and desperate. His body goes rigid as his brain tries being reasonable one last time, but he fails terribly, miserably.
Your hands trail along his chest, traveling down until you decide to let them settle on his waist. Your hands don't rush him, they move like you've already decided how this ends on his part. Your fingers slip just past the waistband of his jeans, but still not fully, tugging with his belt.
"Fuck." He mutters under his breath as your hips hit his roughly, head falling back beyond his control.
Jungkook just stands there and takes it, lets it happen, lets you happen.
That's what gives him away. He doesn't grab your wrists, doesn't step back, doesn't do anything he should be doing. So with the newfound confidence, you sink down to your knees, slow enough that each passing second aches and tortures and stings his skin until it burns and leaves your trace.
He freezes.
His body hasn't caught up to what's happening yet, even though you're taking your sweet time to make sure every second of your touch registers to the point where it's lingering and all he sees and feels is you when he closes his eyes.
No matter how bad you're trying to let him keep up, he feels as though his brain has stopped working long ago and parked itself outside of the constellation named his fucking morals.
"You still there, Jungkook?" You ask looking up at him, voice low and sultry, bating your eyelashes with feigned innocence. As if you aren't his best friend's little sister who's about to suck the life out of him.
He's barely able to get out a reply and you're already pulling his jeans down. You fiddle with the waistband of his boxers, then move along to palm him over the fabric. Jungkook sucks in a sharp breath, hands finding their way to your hair like he's trying to ground himself.
You give a squeeze to his base, hard and thick just like you expected. You're sure whatever he's hiding inside is even better than your imagination, but there's still a minute or two before you can figure that out.
"Ah, fuck, yes—" Jungkook breathes, almost stuttering, completely lost in a daze. "Keep going." He says as his hold tightens in your hair, locks tangling between his fingertips as he tries steadying himself. You slowly drag your hand over to his tip, flicking your index finger somewhere over his slit before moving it back down. You're about to pull down his boxers and then—
A knock.
Jaehyun calls out your name from the other side of the door, and the sound reaches your ears in an instant, forcing you out of whatever fantasy you've lost yourselves in. It's so sudden that Jungkook jerks, his hold on you slipping away as panic flashes across his features. But you? You don't even move.
"Give me a second!" You call back with a voice so impressively steady even Jungkook believes you're alone for a second.
Jungkook exhales like he's just been dropped back into a body he hasn't been in for years, fists closing and opening by his sides like he doesn't know what to do with his hands anymore. But what gets him— what gets him the most is how calm and unbothered you look, like you didn't just bury his body and bring it back to life in under a minute.
Jaehyun calls your name again. "Be quick, seriously."
But you're still not rushing, still not scrambling. Hell, you're not even shifting the way anyone else would in this situation— enter Jungkook. You just tilt your head slightly as you slowly rise back up to your feel, like you're mildly inconvenienced at best.
"I said give me a second!" You reply, and Jungkook watches over you like you're insane. Because you don't look panicked, you don't look caught, you don't look half he's feeling right now.
You look…fine.
He doesn't like that.
Right when Jungkook was considering running the bath and drowning himself in boiling water, another door opens.
"You can use this one." Jaemin says casually, thoroughly aware of whatever stunt you're pulling unlike your brother. Jaehyun mutters something under his breath, a few curse words and complaints about how annoying you are, but he's already moving.
It's silent again when the door locks shut, and Jungkook exhales like he has been holding the entire universe in his lungs. "Jesus—" He runs a hand down his face, shaking his head like he's trying to rid himself of everything but it doesn't work. "What the fuck was that?"
You melt into every second in a whole minute, smoothing your skirt down, fixing your lipstick, running a hand along your hair like those are the only things that need a fixing and nothing about this requires any urgency.
You look at him, completely calm. "What?" You ask lightly, not even making an effort to look at him, glancing at his face from its reflection through the mirror.
His jaw tightens. "You have no idea what game you're playing and it's a problem."
You finally turn to look at him, then glance down to his crotch before lifting your eyes back up, the corners of your mouth lifting. "I think you've got a bigger problem going on." You say, then walk through the door just like that.
Just like that.
Jungkook is losing his fucking mind.
He hates you, he hates you so goddamn much right now. He hated you that day by the pool when you were in that stupid little bikini, hated you when you had your perfect legs over some boy's lap— God, he really is just some boy. What the fuck is a Jaemin? He swears he's so much hotter and bigger and sexier but he can't even try and make himself feel better now that his pants are tightening and his cock is aching.
He knows he's got a bigger problem going on, he didn't need you to say it, he doesn't want to hear you say anything at this point. Because it seems as though he has the self restraint of a fucking rabbit and his dick gets hard with so much as your breathing.
Jungkook is the boy here. He knows he is. There is nothing left for him to do besides hoping you don't. But god, he's desperate. He can't help but think about the what ifs. What if Jaehyun didn't knock, what if you actually pulled down his boxers and took him in your sweet little mouth. He'd give anything right now. Anything to see your mouth full with his cock, stuffed to the brim. He'd do anything for you to fold beneath him and do as he says, he'd bend you over this stupid counter and take you right fucking here. He'd fuck you so good you'd never be able to walk properly again. He'd put you in your place and shut that sweet mouth of yours forever.
But he can't. He knows he can't. So he does the second most stupid he can do today— the first being letting you take him in your mouth. He pulls his jeans back down after making sure the door is locked again, then frees his cock out of the fabric that has been suffocating him since the moment he laid his eyes on you today.
He starts stroking himself after spreading the precum over his tip, then lets his hand run down his aching length. He's so horny it's stupid. He can't believe a girl he has known since he was nine has gotten his dick rock hard with so much as a few reckless words and light, taunting touches. But who the fuck is he kidding? This isn't the first time he's thought about you like this, not the first time he's caught himself a way the shouldn't have.
He's just been better at hiding it before.
He had always been the version of himself that knows where the line is and doesn't even think about crossing it. Because for the longest time, you had a single purpose, a single title in his life— Jaehyun's little sister. A kid who used to hover around the edges of everything she had no part in, who'd sit too close and talk too much even when she didn't have to. There was never a reason to think about it longer than necessary.
Until you made it impossible to ignore.
It didn't happen all at once, not in a way he could point to and say this is where it changed. It just…happened. You stopped asking to be included, stopped looking at him like he was someone above and untouchable. You built your own life, your own circle, yourself.
And somewhere in the middle of all of that, he started noticing things. The way you carried yourself differently, the way your voice grew into something low and sultry, the way you started looking at people with eyes that knew exactly what you were doing, thoroughly aware of the effect you had.
So as he keeps dragging a hand along his length, he thinks about every time you'd bent over in front of him with a skirt way too short to be acceptable, every time you'd given him those eyes while asking for things as simple as a glass of water, every time you'd call a man late at night thinking your voice couldn't be heard when he'd lose hours of sleep over it— he thinks about it all.
He cums with a breathy trail of moans and your name on his tongue, body shaking with the intensity of his orgasm. And as he struggles to find the line between his imagination and the reality, he realizes that the worst part about what he has done today isn't Jaehyun or the post nut clarity.
It's that he wants more.
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
The club is brazen without trying to be subtle about it. It's the kind of atmosphere that doesn't prepare you for the worst before settling deep into your skin, right in the middle of something you can't erase no matter how hard you try scrubbing it off, because the agitation is just that heavy. The lights hang low, glowing in a distant hue that's maybe a little too deliberate for a club like this. The air is thick and full without being suffocating, but it's lived in. Like it's been used over and over again and simply refuses to empty out, carrying the remnants of conversations, the cluttered echo of laughter, and things that are said too loud yet meant too lightly.
You're not sure if it was the best pick for a birthday night out, but who are you to say anything— you wouldn't be here without Jaehyun anyway. Not that you want to leave, but the party doesn't matter all that much either. Although you do like Haneul— one of Jaehyun's college friends who also became yours overtime— she's sweet in a way that's safe and makes it easy to forget she's the center of attention tonight.
The music is starting to feel too loud and it feels as if the club is getting smaller and smaller as time goes on, but it's still a little early to leave, at least by yourself. Because leaving alone would mean you aren't enjoying yourself and staying long enough keeps everything in place, keeps you exactly where you need to be without drawing attention to the fact that your mind has been completely elsewhere for the entirety of the night.
Jungkook has been avoiding you. Definitely, irreproachably, unmistakeably.
You've been in this club for three hours now, with your body pressed against the crowd in a way that doesn't allow distance to exist, caught between people who move like proximity is a choice rather than an inconvenience, and still— Jungkook hasn't looked at you properly. Not even once.
Jaehyun finds you sometime around the final minutes of your fourth hour here, fully drunk now as if he hasn't been halfway gone for the majority of his time here. His words are looser, his voice is louder, and his arm is slinging around your shoulder like everything about his balance depends on you.
"There you are." He sings, stretching the words sloppily. "I'm done."
You laugh, head tipping back in his arms. "You've been done for like, what? An hour now?" You tell him, steadying the drink in his hand before it spills.
"I mean it this time." He leans into you, then immediately leans away like something far more interesting suddenly caught his attention. "I'm leaving— or, no. I'm staying. I don't know."
"That sounds about right."
He exhales dramatically, then glances over your shoulder until he spots what he was looking for. "Jungkook!" He shouts over the music.
Jungkook turns his head slightly before fully facing your brother, then moves towards you like rejecting was never really an option.
"Can you take her home?" Jaehyun asks, placing a hand on the small of your back. But it doesn't sound like a question, it sounds like a decision that's already been made before it even reached Jungkook.
"You are." Jaehyun cuts him off, waving it away like the argument doesn't exist, doesn't matter. "I'll stay a bit longer, or all night, just— make sure she gets home safe, please."
Your eyes wander away to Jungkook, because watching him is far more interesting than dealing with your drunk brother. There's a pause before he exhales through his nose, a beat that's enough to feel like he's weighing something in his head, like there is a version of this he so badly wants to refuse but knows he can't— knows he won't.
"Fine." He says finally, not exactly willing.
Jaehyun grins, satisfied with the outcome even though he won't remember achieving it by the time he wakes up. He disappears into the crowd after patting Jungkook on the shoulder, leaving the two of you standing in a space that suddenly feels quiet despite being the complete opposite.
Jungkook walks alongside you in silence as you make your way out of the club, his pace controlled and calculated like that's the only thing he's concentrating on right now. The music gets swallowed up by a wave of soft wind and the distant hum of the city when you step outside, fading slowly as you get further and further away from the club.
You glance at him as you walk, trailing your eyes along the sharp line of his jaw beneath the warm glow of the streetlights. He's dressed too nicely for the bike waiting at the curb, painted in dark clothes and silver rings along with the kind of face that makes people stop and turn their heads twice without even realizing they're doing it. For a short second, you wonder if he knows how unfair he looks tonight. But jokes on you, he probably does.
Because Jeon Jungkook is one cocky bastard, even though he doesn't show it a lot.
"You could've said no, you know." You say lightly when you reach the bike. "If it's impossible for you to be alone with me without glaring like you want me dead."
Jungkook exhales through his nose, pulling the spare helmet from the handle and holding it out to you before responding eventually. "I would've said no if i wanted to."
You look down to the helmet, crossing your arms on your chest."You can act a little less miserable, then."
His jaw tightens slightly at that, like he's annoyed with both you and himself. "Put the helmet on." He says, ignoring your claim.
You roll your eyes, but take it from him anyway, not forgetting to let your fingers brush against his on purpose. He shifts under your touch, shoulders tensing beneath his jacket. You're sure he notices the way you're doing it on purpose too, but prefers not to comment on it. Not yet, at least.
"You're quiet tonight." You say, slipping the helmet on.
"You talk enough for the both of us."
"That's not true. You talk plenty when you're…engaged." You say slowly, dragging your gaze over him before settling them back on his face. Jungkook looks at you properly for the first time tonight, and he makes sure to look at you with purpose. Enough to let you know he's still thinking about it too.
The bathroom, everything you did that day, everything he did after you left. Not a single second of it has left his mind ever since.
"Get on the bike." He says, tongue poking the inside of cheek before he speaks.
You do, but you do it so slowly Jungkook thinks he wants to dig his grave right then and there. You place your hands on his shoulders before sliding them over his chest as you move behind him, taking your time in a way that feels cruel. By the time you finally sit, there's barely any space between your bodes. Your knees press against his thighs, your arms wrap around his waist, and your chest leans onto his back.
"You know," You murmur near his ear, and it takes so much in him to not go still at the lingering heat of your breath. "For someone who keeps telling me to stop, you never actually do anything."
His grip tightens around the handles. "You don't listen."
"Maybe i'd listen if you were better at hiding how much you like it."
You feel how his body stiffens immediately as he inhales sharply before starting the engine. "Hold properly." He says, completely dismissing your words.
When the bike finally pulls away from the curb, you settle against him even closer than before, letting your body melt into the warmth of his. You smile to yourself beneath the helmet, because this time, you know exactly how tonight is going to end.
Your hands wander all over him throughout the entirety of the ride, tracing lines starting from his chest all the way down to his thighs. Jungkook has no idea how the hell he's survived when he rolls the bike into your garage, but he definitely knows the tension between you has turned into something so physical he feels like he's going to burst.
Neither of you can move when the engine cuts off, because the air is still vibrating from the ride. Because your body stayed pressed against his the entire way home like you were trying to test how much restraint one could realistically have before it gave out completely.
And judging by how Jungkook is handling it all— not much.
"You should go inside." He says eventually, back still turned to you.
You slowly let go of his waist, leaning back slightly as you take off your helmet. "I don't really want to."
Jungkook lets out a breath through his nose, then hops off the bike as he takes the helmet from your hand and places it back on the handle alongside his own. When he's back on the bike, he's facing you, legs placed on both sides of the vehicle.
He calls your name, but it sounds completely ruined in his mouth now, rough and raw around the edges by weeks of restraint and the complete lack of it sitting underneath. He shakes his head in frustration, dragging a hand along his face.
"Look, you— this, whatever you've been trying to do all night. No, scratch that, you've been doing this for weeks now. It's not going to happen, it can't happen."
"You wanna know what i think?" You ask instead, tilting your head.
"No."
"I think you liked avoiding me."
Jungkook's eyes darken at your words, sharp enough to slice through your skin that's ravaged with desire. And as the dawn slowly breaks, you see the walls crumbling down beneath his feverish, agitated gaze. Because you've already stripped him out of his armor and he hates how naked and vulnerable he might look to your eyes.
"You liked it because it gave you an excuse to think about me all the time." Your voice softens slightly, just enough to feel intimate. "Every room i walked into, every conversation you avoided, every time you looked away before i caught you. You liked it because that was the only way to fill your mind with me without feeling guilty."
Jungkook laughs quietly, but there's nothing amused about it. The sound comes out frayed, disbelieving, like he's hearing his own thoughts being spoken back to him in your voice and hates how accurate they sound.
"You think this is easy for me?" He asks, and the shift in his tone catches you off-guard. It's not softer, not gentler either— but it's honest. Raw in a way that sits somewhere so deep in his chest, so much more than he has been willing to show until now. "You think i enjoy walking into a room and having to pretend i'm not thinking about you?"
At his confession, your breath stutters without waiting for permission. Because suddenly, every letter rolling out of his tongue feels heavy. Because this is the first time he's admitting it out loud, even if it sounds like it's being dragged out against his will.
His eyes dip briefly to your lips before lifting again, but it's slow, as if the movement costs him something he can't pay for. "You keep looking at me like that." He mutters, so low that you think it's not meant for you.
"Like what?" You ask, looking up at him through your lashes.
"Like you already know i'm gonna give in."
You tilt your head slightly, pushing yourself further into his embrace. "Are you?" You ask, voice laced with a honeyed amusement.
He exhales sharply with closed eyes, and for a second, you think he's actually going to walk away. You see the glimpses of conflict flash across his features, shoulders tensing like he's forcing himself to hold onto the last scraps of control he has left.
But then his hands find your waist, firm and certain in a way that makes you believe he won't let go this time. Whatever was left of Jungkook's self-control gives in completely, and his lips are on yours in an instant.
A mix of gasps and moans falls from your lips, and he swallows them without wasting a second. Your fists find his jacket, tugging onto the fabric as you close the remaining bits and pieces of distance between your bodies.
His hands drop drown to your hips, moving them to the rhythm of your lips until you're fully on his lap. His thumb pulls at your bottom lip, searching for permission to be let in even further into your mouth. You grant him the access immediately, his tongue clashing against yours in a way that's hot, wet, and so fucking desperate.
You draw circles with your hips on his lap, his already hardened length pressing into your clothed core. The friction feels so good it blows your breath away, and your stomach flutters every time his skin touches yours in a way that's rather vulnerable and intimate instead of sole lust.
Jungkook feels his cock pulsing beneath the fabric of his jeans, and he swears he's going to cum on the spot if you keep moving your hips like that. Your wetness leaves filthy stains on the course denim, marking him with your arousal.
"This dress," He breathes into your mouth, voice laced with fever as he tugs onto the thin fabric. "You wore it for me?"
You smirk into the kiss, not forgetting to continue moving your hips. "Wouldn't you like to know." You sing softly.
He scoffs, hand sliding in through your dress to settle on your bare ass, giving it a hard squeeze, fingers digging into the soft flesh. "Oh, i already do."
The moment a soft trace of streetlights spread inside from the corner and chase away the darkness, Jungkook knows it's his cue to pull away. A final opportunity to let him fix everything he has broken and lost himself inside, a weak excuse to allow him wake up to a brighter morning without the weight of betrayal and regret and burnt desire he hates himself for not being able to keep hidden.
But he doesn't, he's so lost in the drug called you and as your body searches his further and further, there's almost nothing left in him that's holding him back from being gone completely.
Your movements on his lap grow into something more and more desperate, pussy aching with need as his hands wander all around your body, feeling you up beneath your dress. He lifts the skirt over your hips, exposing it to the cool air of the garage and your breath hitches at the feeling of being so bare all of a sudden.
"Shit— stop, stop." He nearly begs, pulling his lips away from yours. You look back at him, momentarily thrown. Because what does he mean stop? He can't, not right now, not when he's got you all hot and bothered on his lap.
"What's wrong?" You ask softly, brows pulling together.
"I'm— I'll cum if you keep doing that. Wanna be inside you."
The words mean so much more to you than just lust. Because this isn't only want, not at all. It's ravishment, the breakage of suppression that has been dressed up as a boundary for way too long. Jungkook has spent weeks— no, scratch that. He has spent years holding himself together so tightly you almost started believing he was actually capable of resisting you.
But now, he's sitting beneath you, looking completely unraveled by your body against his. Nothing more, nothing less.
You did that. The thought alone makes you dizzy.
You take a moment to let your gaze drift over his face; taking in the spent rise and fall of his chest, his red lips that are swollen from kissing you, the frustration and desperation tangled together beneath his darkened gaze…He looks wrecked in a way that doesn't suit him at all. Because Jeon Jungkook has always been a man of precision and there isn't a single ounce left of it in his being tonight.
He was always guarded in a way that kept every ugly thought locked somewhere private, somewhere no one else could reach, could touch. And now, Jeon Jungkook is falling apart right in front of you— because of you.
"Yeah? You want to fuck me, Jungkook?" You ask slowly, voice low and sultry as your nails trail lines along his inner thighs.
Jungkook lets out a low groan before speaking. "Come here." He says, pulling you back onto him. You laugh with the movement as your hands work on the zipper of his jeans, and he lifts his hips enough to assist you pull them off just enough.
Once his boxers are pulled down and his cock is all bare and exposed for you to see, you can't help but let your lips part in shock. You feel yourself nearly drooling over his size because fuck, he's huge.
You shouldn't be shocked, you've already felt him up and you expected nothing less. But seeing it like this, thick and long and leaking for you— you think you're going to pass away.
"See something you like, baby?" He smirks, all cocky and confident.
"That's not going to fit." You reply immediately, gaze flicking up and down consecutively.
"We'll make it fit." He says, eyes stuck on yours as he gives himself a few strokes. "And you're going to take every inch like the good girl you are."
You just stare at him, utterly in shock, almost scared. Because what the actual fuck is he talking about? You've never taking anything this big, and you're not sure if anyone ever has either.
"You were begging for me to fuck you. Weren't you, princess? Were so desperate for my cock and now what? Cat's got your tongue?" He says, a loose grin on his face as his thumb swipes over the head and spreads the precum.
"I'll take it." You say obediently.
"Yeah?" He breathes, lifting your hips so that your entrance is lining up with his cock.
"I'll take all of it. Need your big cock so bad. Fuck me, Jungkook. Please, need it." You beg, trying to push yourself down to take him into your cunt but he tightens his hands around your hips to hold you in place.
He guides your hips down slowly, letting you feel every line and every vein that's painting his pretty length. You whine at the stretch, but there's still half of him you haven't taken yet.
"Fuck," He groans, letting his eyes close and his head fall back as you sink down further. "You're so tight."
You both moan loudly as he presses your hips down fully, your wet cunt swallowing him wholly. He watches as his cock disappears between your folds, so wet and creamy with your slick that's already obnoxiously overflowing. Once all of him is inside you, you let out a high pitched whimper, feeling the way your walls burn with how good he's stretching you, because he's just that big. So fucking massive it's insane. And you swear you've never felt this full in your entire life.
"Holy shit." You gasp when he lifts his hips to meet you halfway, balls hitting your ass with the movement.
"How does it feel, princess? Anything like you imagined?" He asks, thrusting up into you as he guides your hips down, hands squeezing the flesh of your plump ass. "Use your big girl words, i know you can."
"So good, Jungkook. I'm so full, you're so— so big." You cry out, nails digging into his shoulders.
He pushes down the top of your dress, exposing the lace fabric of your red bra. He pulls it down just enough to bare your boobs, breath hitching the moment they bounce free right in front of his eyes.
Jungkook sucks in a sharp breath the moment you find your pace, your tits bouncing up and down as you hop on his cock, riding him to chase your own high. One of his hands lift to massage your tit as the other keeps digging into the flesh of your ass. You whimper when he takes your hardened nipple into his mouth, bouncing on his cock in a pace that slowly grows into something sloppier as the hot feeling of your orgasm starts building low in your stomach.
"Kook, i'm cumming. Shit."
"Yeah? Let it go, baby. Cream all over my fat cock."
His words do it for you, and you fall apart on his cock after a few more thrusts. Your legs start shaking and you bury your head in his neck for support, panting into his skin.
"You okay?" He asks, head tilted as he tries looking at your profile.
"Yeah…just," You breathe, straightening your posture to pull away and take a proper look at him. "Wanna make you feel good."
Jungkook groans loudly, letting his head fall back at your words. Because how can he act normal, how can he hold it together when your mouth keeps reciting filthy words so casually like you're talking about the weather?
He can't believe this, he still can't believe he's just fucked you on his stupid bike. Because this is you. Jaehyun's little sister. The girl he spent years forcing himself not to look at for to long. And now, he's got you all naked and completely spent on his lap, touching him like the yellow light that's filling up the void of control he'd built for himself, warming him up so intimately without even realizing you're doing so.
He's a goner. He's so irreversibly fucked and completely gone.
But what worsens it for him is, that you don't look too different from the state he's in. You've fallen apart right in front of his eyes, skin flushed, sounds breathless, movements desperate. They tell him you're just as gone as he is. There is something so dizzying about it, about seeing the exact effect he has on you after weeks of wondering whether he imagined it all or not.
He didn't.
Thank god, he didn't.
As his eyes wander all over you, desire burning through him so intensely it almost feels violent, he thinks about the one thing he has been dying to ask you.
Because if he doesn't ask now, when will he ever?
"Can i—" Jungkook cuts himself off with a quiet curse, dragging a hand down his face before looking back at you. "Fuck, can i fuck your tits?"
The corner of your mouth twitches upwards immediately, amusement curling through your face despite how breathless he left you just minutes ago. The overhead light catches against the flush spreading across your skin, showing off the mess he's made of you.
Your fingertips move onto the hem of your dress, pausing there long enough for anticipation to sizzle in his lungs before you slowly pull the fabric upwards.
Jungkook watches every movement, so so carefully. Like he's afraid that if he blinks, he'll miss something. And when your dress is completely off, he thinks that he might actually die right then and there.
The breath that leaves him when you unclasp your bra and let it fall down to the ground is sharp. His gaze drags over you with a kind of raw hunger he stopped trying to hide a long time ago tonight. There is nothing composed about him now, nothing careful. Just pure, unadulterated want.
"Jesus Christ." He mutters under his breath, hands flexing at his sides like he doesn't know what to do with them.
You tilt your head slightly, watching him through your lashes, a small and seductive smile playing on your lips. "You look overwhelmed."
"You think?" He argues, a rough laugh slipping out of his lips. "Press'em together for me, baby." He says, hands braced behind him as he leans into the handlebars.
You press your tits together, then lean forward onto him to take his cock between the soft flesh of your boobs. Jungkook's eyes flutter shut in an instant, a low groan escaping his lips as you start moving your chest up and down. His dick is already so wet, sliding between your boobs seamlessly.
"Love your tits, princess. Gonna paint them with my seed." He moans, long gone in the bliss. Jungkook's hips jerk beyond his control, and he starts fucking your tits as you move along with his pace.
He cums all over your chest not long after with low grunts of curses and your name on his tongue.
The garage still feels warm, still thick with tension and the aftermath of everything that just happened, everything that was boundto happen for weeks. But there isn't an edge to it anymore. Because Jungkook isn't looking at you the way he was just a few hours ago. Because now, there's no frustration behind his gaze. Instead, he looks wrecked.
He leans back against the handlebars as he tries catching his breath, one hand still on your thigh. You sit sideways across his lap, completely naked, hair messy, lips swollen.
Your fingers drift absentmindedly along the collar of his shirt as he tries catching his breath, smoothing the fabric. "You know," You murmur, eyes dancing over him. "You're a lot softer than i thought you'd be."
Jungkook laughs lightly. "You literally spent weeks trying to ruin my life."
"Mhm." You tilt your head, pretending to think. "You survived tho."
He snorts, thumb drawing circles on your thigh. "Barely."
You smile, then lean into his chest when his hand slides higher along your waist without really thinking, skin calloused and a little rough on your soft skin. But for some reason, it comforts you in a way nothing ever has.
Because for a second, it doesn't feel complicated at all. It doesn't feel like boundaries or guilt or Jaehyun or years of years of knowing each other but never doing anything about it. It just feels like Jungkook's hands on your body and the quiet look in his eyes that says he's still trying to process how badly he wanted this.
How badly he still wants it.
"I really tried not to." He says suddenly.
You look at him, brows pulling together faintly as you try to figure out what he's going to say. "Tried not to what?"
His eyes flick down to your lips before lifting again. "Want you."
Your stomach flips when he says that. Because they sound real. There is no teasing in them. No temptation, no flirtation. Just raw, unadulterated truth.
You lift your head to look at him properly, suddenly a little too aware of how close the two of you still are. How his hand hasn't moved from your waist, how your legs are still tangled with his on the bike like neither of you has figured out how to leave.
"You sucked at it." You say softly.
That earns you a real laugh this time. It's quiet and tired, yet warm around the edges in a way you've never heard him before. Even if you have, it was never for you. But now it feels so intimate that every breath he takes, every word he says, every single thing he does is in honour to you.
"Yeah, i know." And for one dangerous moment, everything feels easy.
Then the front door slams open upstairs.
"I'm home!" Jaehyun's voice echoes through the house; loud, drunk and completely unaware. "Why the fuck is the garage light on?"
in which... you absolutely hate your co-worker, the insufferable Jeon Jungkook. but you're badly hurt, and somehow, your feet led you to his door.
pairing: jungkook x f!reader ✶ ( secret agents au )
word count: 7.7k
content warning: smut ( mdni ) ✶ angst ✶ mentions of blood, bruises, fights, sex, and lots of cursing.
notes: although I'm a sucker for the arctic monkeys original version, this one was inspired by hozier's cover of "do I wanna know". hopefully it's not too soft for what I've written, and if it is... well, sorry bout that !
𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒏 was biblical—like the city itself had decided you were a stain it needed to scrub off the map.
You staggered through alleys slick with city grime, rainwater swirling in neon puddles at your feet. Every step punched a fresh flare of agony through your side, where your coat clung wetly to the blood seeping from beneath. You didn’t know if your ribs were bruised, fractured, or split like kindling—but every breath felt like dragging lightning into your lungs and hoping you didn’t catch fire.
They’d said four men. Maybe five.
They’d lied. It had been closer to eleven—if you were counting the one catapulted through the window. You’d clawed your way through that hell. Fought like an animal in a trap. And you’d gotten what you came for. The hard drive burned cold and hard against your belly, its weight heavier than steel.
But now you were bleeding.
And somehow, your body—battered, burning—had walked you here.
Of all places.
To him.
You stood at his door, water dripping off your soaked clothes to pool at your feet, hand raised in mid-air, suspended in hesitation. The alley behind was too quiet. The storm outside sounded muffled, like the world was pressing in from all sides and this was the eye of it.
You hated him.
You hated him with an intensity that tasted like smoke and felt like lust. Hated his smirk. His arrogance. His voice. His eyes. His mouth. Hated how often you imagined it against your skin, even now.
But you couldn’t walk another block.
And you couldn’t risk what was in your hidden pocket. Couldn’t risk losing yourself out there when you'd already lost too much.
Your fist met the door before your pride could stop it. The knock echoed through the porch. You turned your head, checking behind you out of habit, expecting a shadow to crawl from the storm. Nothing. Another knock, this time louder—sharper, more frantic. Pain bit at your side, sharp as a blade twisting. You doubled slightly, hand pressed harder over the heat blooming beneath your ribs.
And then the door jerked open.
And there he was.
Jeon Jungkook.
Fucking hell.
His black hair was a mess—still damp like he’d just gotten out of the shower, frowzy strands falling across his forehead. His raven eyes, sharp as always, scanned you in a single, sweeping glance. No flicker of surprise. No warmth. Just that same infuriating coolness that always made your blood boil.
“Seriously? Where the fuck have you been? Losing a fight with a sewer?”
His voice was a cold blade, smooth and deadly.
You didn’t reply. You looked past him instead, scanning the dark corners behind his shoulder—checking for threats, anything to distract from his judgment.
“Hi to you too,” you muttered, lips twisting in a smile that wasn’t a smile at all. Sarcasm was armor, and you wrapped yourself in it fast.
He didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just stood there with his arms crossed like he’d been expecting you—and maybe he had.
That was the thing about Jungkook. He knew your tells like battle scars. And he used them.
"Can I come in?" you asked, the words rasping out before you could steel yourself. Your voice cracked, just slightly, under the weight of everything you were trying not to show. "Please."
That made him pause.
Jungkook wasn’t used to you asking for anything—let alone pleading.
He didn’t say a word. Just stepped aside, eyes never leaving yours.
You passed him like smoke, brushing too close, too fast, but not fast enough to miss the heat radiating off his skin. You didn’t look at him again. Couldn’t.
“Thank you,” you muttered, half breath, half defeat.
The door shut behind you with a soft click.
You and Jungkook had been orbiting the same hell for too long. Tossed together by whatever bastard thought pairing oil with fire was a great tactical move. You worked like wolves. Clashed like storms. And when it mattered, you covered each other’s backs with snarls and bloodstained fists.
Still, you had rules. Self-made. Non-negotiable.
No drinking with him.
No sleeping in the same room.
No letting him see you bleed.
No showing up at his door when you were breaking.
Too late.
The couch called to your bones, but his voice cut through the air like a whip. “You’re soaking wet.”
You rolled your eyes, dragging a hand through your drenched hair. “No shit, Sherlock.”
Your fingers found the back of the sofa, steadying yourself as exhaustion clawed at your spine. Your clothes felt like lead. Your skin itched from the dried blood you knew clinged underneath. If you closed your eyes, you were done for. So you didn’t.
He moved to the doorway between the kitchen and the living room. Leaned against the frame, arms folded, every muscle taut beneath the hold of a black shirt. The battered—and quite edgy—fabric hugged his torso like it wanted to be torn off. His sweatpants hung dangerously low, a taunt all on their own.
Your gaze flicked down. Just once.
Big mistake.
"I’m assuming you got it?"
The husky scrape of his voice pulled your head up. You stared for a beat, then moved to the table in the kitchen like your legs weren’t screaming with every step.
"What do you think?" you bit back, reaching into your jacket and yanking out the hard drive. You chucked it at him without ceremony. “Prick.”
He caught it with the kind of lazy precision that always pissed you off. No flinch. No reaction. Just a long look, like he was trying to read past the rain and bruises to what lay underneath.
But your coat was still on. Your secrets still safe—for now.
You slumped into a chair. He moved beside you, sliding his laptop across the table and plugging in the drive.
"‘Kay then, let's just throw the thing around so we lose the leverage we have and money we won’t be paid for."
You allowed yourself to shut your eyes for a second, and leaned your head against the wall behind you. “Dramatic as ever.”
The clicking of his keyboard filled the room. Rhythmic. Familiar. You focused on it like it might keep you conscious.
“What took you so long then? Are you that out of shape?”
A small laugh escaped, tight with pain. “As if.” You shifted in your chair, wincing as fire flared under your ribs. “They lied. There were more of them than their intel promised. A lot more,” you muttered, voice brittle with leftover rage.
The keyboard stopped.
You opened your eyes to find him staring.
“How many?”
You let out a breath. Winced again. “Ten? Maybe twelve? I didn’t exactly count heads while they were trying to break mine open.”
His expression faltered.
Just a crack. A flicker. Barely there—quick enough that anyone else might’ve missed it. But you saw it. The sharp flash of something unspoken that darted through his gaze like a blade—gone just as quickly as it came.
He stood slowly. Like he was bracing for impact. Like he could already taste the blood in the air. His movements were quiet, calculated. An animal not yet sure if it needed to strike or mend.
“You’re hurt.”
The words were low, almost a growl. Not concerned. Not yet. But deadly focused.
“Not really.” You shot back too fast. Too automatic. The deflection barely made it past your lips before another sharp wince cut through you, slicing clean under your ribs like a warning. “I’m just soaked… and sore. Pretty normal after rain and knocking out a few men.”
His gaze sharpened.
Whatever he’d been doing on his laptop no longer mattered. Jungkook stepped closer, leaving the glow of the screen behind like it was nothing. His full attention snapped to you like the click of a safety being released.
His eyes dragged over you—slow, deliberate. Mapping out every flinch, every shiver of pain beneath your soaked jacket. You felt stripped bare, despite the layers you still wore. You hated that look. Hated how closely he could read you. Like his fingers weren’t the only things that could undo you.
You shifted back in your seat instinctively, tension rippling down your spine.
But his voice cut through your retreat like iron.
“Take that off.”
The command didn’t even try to be soft. You saw the way his jaw tensed around it, like he hated how much he wanted to say it—and how badly he meant it.
Your breath stilled. An unholy cocktail of defiance and heat clawed up your throat.
“Excuse me?”
“You're drenched,” he said, cool and precise, but his tone wasn’t nearly as detached as he wanted it to be. “You're shaking. And now I can bet my ass you're bleeding too.”
His eyes dropped—too focused, too dark—and locked onto your side. His voice lowered, rough like gravel. “Just get in the bathroom.”
Oh. Oh. He was fucking serious.
And that made you want to punch him.
Your throat bobbed as you swallowed the heat rising in it—rage, maybe. Or something worse. Your fingers curled tight against your thigh, jaw grinding. “You can ready your ass then ‘cause you couldn’t be more wrong!”
But even you didn’t believe that. Your body throbbed in agreement, every nerve screaming betrayal beneath the slick black of your sleeves. You knew how to fake strength. But you were running out of it.
You stood. Slowly. Painfully. If you could just make it to the door—
“You have the package,” you muttered, trying to keep your spine straight, even as your knees threatened to fold. “I already did my part. Now you keep it safe.”
You turned your back to him. The mistake was thinking he’d let you go.
You barely made it four steps before his hand was gripping the collar of your jacket, yanking you to a halt. “Just get in the fucking bathroom, for fuck’s sake!”
"Or what?" You spun, fury lashing in your tone, a snarl curling your lips as your fingers fumbled furiously with the zipper.
You would leave his place with or without the damn jacket. You didn’t care. This was a mistake—coming here, letting him see you like this, giving him even an inch of something he could hold over you.
"Or I'll fucking make you," he growled, yanking the jacket from your shoulders as the zipper finally gave way.
The motion twisted your arms awkwardly, pain lancing through your side with a white-hot burn. You faltered. A sharp breath escaped you as your knees buckled.
He caught you immediately.
And when he steadied you, it wasn’t with roughness. It wasn’t with victory.
“Sorry. Fuck—I'm sorry.” His voice dropped, rough and ragged, hands gently guiding you back upright. “Just… please, let me help you.”
Your head fell forward, forehead brushing the side of his shoulder. Not from affection. From sheer exhaustion. From not having the strength to keep up the fight.
When you finally opened your eyes again, his were already watching you, one hand dragging through his hair in a clear sign of restraint. His chest rose and fell beneath that clinging shirt, his breath a little too uneven.
“Look—you came to me. You’re already here.” His hand returned to your hip, grounding and firm. “Let me just take a look at that.”
You opened your mouth, ready to throw another snarky line just to keep the rhythm of control in your corner, but before you could, he was already steering you—gently, insistently—toward the bathroom.
“Jungkook—”
His hand shot up near your mouth, not touching, just fingers curling in the air like he was this close to losing whatever thread of patience he had left.
“Just—shut your pretty mouth for a second.” He turned to open the bathroom door, not waiting to see if you obeyed. “Get in. Take that off.”
He nodded toward your shirt and gave the smallest push to your lower back. “I’ll be right back. No arguing.”
And then he was gone.
The door clicked shut behind you.
His bathroom was bigger than expected. Clinical. Sterile. Almost too neat for someone in this line of work. But it made sense, in that strange, maddening way Jungkook always did. Controlled chaos in the field—total discipline at home.
The dim light spilled down the tiled walls in long, moody shadows. The floor was freezing under your bare feet as you peeled off your shirt, every movement stiff with pain. Your fingers trembled, but you managed it.
Your cargo pants stuck to your thighs, soaked and heavy. You unfastened them, sliding them low enough to access the damage—only to the curve of your hips. Anything more and your pride would unravel too.
You sank onto the closed toilet lid in just your open pants and a black sports bra, arms bracing hard on the basin. Your breath came shallow, dizzy from blood loss.
The door swung open, startling you.
You jerked, arms flying up to cover your chest. “You could always knock.”
“And miss the show?” His voice was low, shameless—but it didn’t bite. There was no cruelty, only that maddening velvet steel that was his signature.
He stepped in slowly, kneeling before you with a med kit tucked under one arm, movements deliberate and devastatingly calm. The sight of him like that—on his knees, flushed skin and damp hair, inked arm flexing beneath that cursed black shirt—made your stomach twist violently.
Desire, or pain. Maybe both.
“Just give me that—I can manage,” you said, reaching for the bottle of antiseptic in his hand.
But his fingers wrapped around yours, guiding your arm down with a tenderness that disarmed you more than any threat. “No, you can’t.”
He looked at you—really looked—his eyes falling to the crimson trail running from your ribs, jaw tightening as he exhaled. “This’ll sting.”
His hands hovered over your skin, the gauze paused midair. He wasn’t moving. Just staring at your torso like it told a story he hated reading.
You shifted. “Well?”
That snapped him out of it.
He pressed the antiseptic to your wound and your world exploded.
“Son of a—”
“Breathe.” His voice was a rasp, low and oddly soft, his free hand finding your hip. His fingers didn’t press—just steadied. A quiet promise not to let you fall.
And for a second, you let him hold you like that.
You lost track of everything once he peeled the bloodied gauze away, his movements deft and careful. Jungkook picked up a hooked needle with the same deadly focus you’d seen him use while disarming a bomb or loading a gun. His teeth came down to snap the nylon thread, the noise sharp in the bathroom’s too-quiet air. Your breath hitched.
Modesty didn’t matter now. Not with the sweat on your brow, the taste of copper in your mouth, and the burn that spread from your side like a live wire. You uncurled your arms from your chest and gripped the basin and wall behind you, knuckles whitening, fingers digging into porcelain.
“Oh, God…”
You didn’t mean to say it out loud.
He noticed—of course he noticed. Jungkook’s eyes darted to your face. Then his hands came down to your knees, grounding you with a touch that was unexpectedly steady. Unexpectedly warm. Like an anchor.
You couldn’t stop staring at the needle, though.
Your gaze clung to it like it might jump at you. You weren’t new to fieldwork—scars littered your skin like a patchwork of every mission that had gone sideways. But stitching? That was personal. Up-close and brutal. It wasn’t the pain that got to you. It was the implication. The intimacy of being opened and closed again in someone else’s hands.
Worse than all that was him seeing you like this.
Panicked. Fraying. Human.
“Hey.”
His voice slipped through your spiraling thoughts.
Then his hand was on your face—firm and unrelenting. His fingers curved under your jaw and tilted your chin down, forcing your eyes to meet his. He looked thunderous, but not in the way you’d grown to expect. Not cruel. Not smug. He looked… patient. Focused. Like he was trying to will the fear out of you.
“You really need the stitches, baby,” he said, and the nickname unraveled something low and sharp inside your chest. “I don’t have anesthesia—But I’ll make it quick, I promise.”
You blinked at him, momentarily mute.
It wasn’t just the pain—it was the softness, the way he said baby like it was a secret he hadn’t meant to let slip. You didn’t know if you wanted to slap him or lean into him.
Your chest tightened. So you nodded, barely.
“That’s it. Keep your eyes on me.”
And then he stitched.
The pain came instantly. Sharp and molten. Your whole body flinched, muscles locking as you grabbed your discarded shirt beside you and shoved it into your mouth to muffle the cry. It was either that or scream.
But you didn’t look away from him.
Not once.
Even through the haze of agony, you couldn’t ignore how he looked up at you between every pull of the thread. His brows furrowed in concentration, his lashes casting shadows over cheekbones sharpened by the low light. That little scar he had on his left one. Every few seconds, his eyes found yours, like he needed to make sure you were still breathing.
And worse—you liked that he was watching.
His fingers moved too near your skin, grazing the edges of you, slow and precise. With each tug of the needle, a jolt ran through your spine. Not all from pain. Your body was buzzing, alive in a way that made you clench your jaw and hate every molecule of awareness you had.
Because why did he have to be this close?
Why did you want him closer?
You took the shirt out of your mouth and swallowed hard. The tension in your voice matched the tension on your skin. “You always do this?”
He didn’t look up. “Do what?”
“Play medic for strays?”
His jaw clenched tight, shadow gathering under his cheekbone. His hand paused on the final stitch, threading the knot harder than needed. His silence was louder than a curse.
He tossed the needle aside like it had burned him, shoving the med kit across the tiles with a careless flick of his hand.
“Only the ones that run into traps alone.”
The words cut deeper than the stitches.
His hands hovered in his lap, still curled into fists. You watched his teeth bite down on his bottom lip, hard enough to make that faint, telltale line dent his cheek. The one that only showed when he was furious. When he was trying to hold back.
You knew that look. You’d seen it too many times. He always wore it before things exploded.
“You should’ve told me,” he said finally. His voice was raw, softer than before. A confession, almost.
You couldn’t handle that softness.
Your gaze dropped to the floor, jaw tight. “It’s just a scratch,” you muttered, but the words rang false in your ears yet again.
He sat back on his heels, eyes still burning through you. “Just a scratch,” he repeated, the laugh hollow. “Yeah, right.”
The silence that followed wrapped around you like a vice.
Not peaceful. Not even quiet. It throbbed—the kind of quiet that made your skin prickle and your lungs tighten. It felt like something had cracked open between you, and neither of you knew how to close it.
You moved to stand, needing air, space—anything that wasn’t this. But before your muscles could engage fully, his hand came down, flat and sure, against your thigh.
Not a grip.
Not a threat.
Just there.
“Don’t,” he said.
You made the mistake of meeting his raven eyes.
Electricity. That’s what it felt like. His pupils were blown wide, swallowing the dark brown whole, and there was something feral clawing behind them. Something wild. Untamed.
Not hate.
Need.
“I’m not staying,” you whispered, barely able to push the words past the burn in your throat.
Jungkook rose in one fluid movement. He was suddenly there, towering over you, too close, too solid, the heat of him crowding the air.
“You’re not going anywhere.”
The words were a promise. A warning. Maybe both.
He turned his back to you before you could respond—walked to the sink like the conversation was over. He scrubbed his inked knuckles hard, the water hissing as it hit the porcelain, blood swirling down the drain in thin, ghost-red streams. He didn’t look at you once.
But he didn’t have to.
He thought you’d stay.
So you stood. Fast. Pain stabbed through your side, but adrenaline burned hotter. You clutched your wet shirt like a weapon, storming for the door with your pride clenched so tight it nearly suffocated you.
He moved before you could touch the handle.
“What is it now? Huh?” His voice snapped like a whip. “What’s the hurry?”
He stood in front of the door like a sentinel. Like he’d expected this after all. His body blocked every inch of escape.
“I’m going home,” you bit, hand flying to the knob. “You have the damn drive, you don’t need me to run it. I’m done here.”
His hand clamped over yours, solid and immovable. His grip was hot, skin calloused. Like steel locked against silk.
“You were bleeding just a second ago, goddammit! You’re hurt. There’s no way in hell I’m letting you out of here.”
Your voice dropped, venomous. “You don’t get to decide.”
Jungkook leaned in, so close you could feel the fire of him, smell the faint cotton-and-cigarette scent clinging to his skin—a contradiction so sharp it made your breath hitch. His voice came out low, all grit and fury, the heat of it brushing your cheek like a threat.
“I do when my co-worker is falling apart and pretending to be fine. You’re not going the fuck out there like that and that’s final. I didn’t stitch you up only for you to drop dead.”
You didn’t speak. Not with words.
Your body did.
You shoved him.
Hard.
Your palms collided with his chest and he staggered back, spine hitting the door with a thud that echoed like a gunshot. His jaw clenched. A muscle ticked in his neck. And for a second—just one second—you thought he might lunge. There was that flare in his eyes again. That glint of the monster you knew better than most. Want tangled with rage. But he didn’t move.
He just stood there, breathing hard, teeth clenched behind those pierced lips he didn’t part. The way he stared—like he could rip you apart and worship you in the same breath—lit something molten in your chest.
Then, abruptly, he turned his face away, playing nervously with the loops piercing his bottom lip. Calmed himself. Swallowed it all.
“I’m running you an ice bath,” he muttered, voice flat but dragging like smoke over gravel. “It’ll help with the bruises. Trust me, you’ll thank me tomorrow.”
You didn’t answer. You didn’t need to. You stood there, vibrating with the fury and the pull, while he moved like a storm through the bathroom, filling the tub. You could hear the splash of the water hitting porcelain, could see the slow swirl of mist rising where frost met heat. Jungkook crouched and pulled something from behind the tub—a coiled noose of silver tubing, a trickle system you hadn’t noticed. Typical. Always had a backup.
“There’s clean towels there,” he said, passing you on his way out, pointing to a cabinet with one long finger. His shoulder brushed yours—intentionally or not, it didn’t matter. It burned. “Don’t lock it,” he added without looking at you, already opening the door. “Just in case something happens. I won’t come in. Just—spare me from having to barge through it, will you?”
Then he was gone, the door closing behind him like a full stop.
You blinked.
Once.
Twice.
The room was quiet except for the hum of the water. You exhaled slowly, peeling away the rest of your clothes as you hated yourself for complying so easily. The sports bra clung to your skin like a second wound, and your pants stuck as if determined to keep every painful inch of the night stitched to you. Your underwear followed. Cold air rushed in against your naked skin, but it wasn’t the chill that had your blood racing.
You stood over the tub for a moment, teeth sinking into your lip as your fingers hovered. Then, jaw tight, you slipped in.
It was ice.
Literal ice.
You hissed, biting down a scream as the freezing water bit into your bones like knives. But you didn’t get out. You let it happen. Let it burn the heat off your skin. Let it numb the ache in your side and slow the beat of the panic still coiled in your gut.
You stayed submerged there until the pain was dulled by another—the kind that started to settle in your fingertips, the subtle ache of skin flushing blue at the nails.
That’s when you moved. Slowly. Deliberately.
You rose, dripping and goose-pimpled, wrapping yourself in the thick towel you found exactly where he said it would be. Your body felt like it didn’t belong to you anymore, your brain spinning in that hollow, too-calm way that meant you were still in survival mode.
Your eyes fell to your soaked clothes on the floor and tugged at your bottom lip again. Maybe you could use Jungkook’s drier and then call a cab or something. You gulped drily, looking down on yourself and the towel that hid even less than your previous attire.
But then again, the feeling of having the wet clothing itching back your skin, tormenting your wounds, made you want to yell.
You decided by leaving them in a heap in the corner and opened the bathroom door with a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding.
And there he was.
Leaning against the wall right across from the door.
Waiting for you.
Like he knew you wouldn’t bolt.
Like he dared you to.
His eyes dragged up your form slowly, drinking in the towel, the steam curling around your hair, the flush in your cheeks—not just from the water. His lips parted slightly, breath shallow, but he didn’t speak.
The silence between you screamed enough.
He exhaled like he was trying to drag the edge off himself, and you stood there in a trance, waiting for him to move first in this chessboard you stood on every time you were face to face.
“It’s late. Take my bed,” Jungkook said finally, shoulders tensing, fists balled up inside the pockets of his sweatpants. “The couch is a wreck and you’re not curling up on the floor like some damn street cat.”
Your laugh cut through the air, sharp and disbelieving. “Don’t fucking order me around.”
“Oh, I will, since you bled all over my bathroom and all that,” he shot back without missing a beat, turning down the hall like he’d already won. He didn’t even check if you were following, but of course you did—seething and restless and not quite finished.
Jeon Jungkook was the king of final words. He collected them like weapons. Filed them sharp and threw them with intention. You doubted he even knew how to end a sentence without stamping it in blood.
When he reached his bedroom, the sight of his rumpled sheets made you pause in the doorway. They looked like him. Dark and messy and lived-in. He strode over to a dresser, fingers trailing over the wood as if the casualness could fool either of you. It didn’t. His every movement was intentional—controlled, like he was holding himself together at the seams.
“I’m not staying,” you said again, softer this time. A warning, or maybe a plea.
He didn’t turn around. “You are.”
Then his gaze lifted—through the mirror perched above the dresser. It met yours with devastating precision, and the current in the room sparked like something struck metal.
The bedroom shrank. The walls leaned in. The air felt heavier with every breath you stole, your pulse thudding traitorously against your skin.
You felt everything too much—the towel clutched tight around your chest, the damp fabric molding to your curves; the tendrils of wet hair brushing along your spine; the sting of cold air on your bare thighs. Your nipples peaked beneath the cotton, begging for a little more friction.
Jungkook turned finally, grabbed a shirt from the drawer—white, of all things—and tossed it to you with a flick of his wrist, eyes somewhere over your head. “I’ll dry your clothes after you put that on.”
You caught the shirt with one hand, inhaling as it settled in your grip. It was soft. Lived-in. You could smell him on it.
He gestured with a jerk of his chin. “Bed’s clean.”
You rolled your eyes instead of answering. Arguing now was pointless.
You could dig your heels in, sure. But your body ached. Your side pulsed. Outside, the rain hadn’t let up for hours. And the bastards you’d escaped tonight weren’t going to rest easy. If they were hunting, you weren’t up for round two.
Plus, he did say he would dry your clothes for you. You’d have to wait for that anyway.
Jungkook watched your stance shift—read the surrender in your silence like the tactician he was. Deciding it was safe, he stepped forward, back to the mirror, facing away from you.
He gave you privacy. As if it mattered anymore. As if he hadn’t already seen you stitched and half-naked, skin marked with blood and bruises.
Still, you waited.
You kept your eyes locked on his broad back, on the way his shoulders tightened when you didn’t immediately move. He wasn’t relaxed—he was steel braced for impact. Like he knew what would happen if he turned again.
You let the towel slip. Slowly. Let it fall in a whisper at your feet before grabbing his shirt and tugging it on. It clung in places, soft cotton sticking to damp skin. His scent curled around you, confusingly comforting, irritatingly intimate.
You tugged at the hem—useless. It barely brushed your thighs.
“Of all the black shirts you own, you had to choose the white one for me? For real?”
He turned then—and froze.
His eyes dropped again. Just for a second. Took in the stretch of your legs, the curve of your hips, the little puddle starting to soak through the shirt as you brought your hair all to one side. His throat bobbed.
And when his gaze snapped back to yours, it was searing.
“I’m fine,” you found the need to reassure him, stepping forward. Too close. “This isn’t my first rodeo.”
“I know,” he said hoarsely, voice wrecked. “That’s the problem.”
His eyes were wild—something caged came back, clawing just behind them once more. Like if he stayed a second longer, he’d do something neither of you could undo.
And so, he bolted.
“I’ll finish checking the drive,” he barked, already halfway through the door, not sparing a glance back, closing it behind him.
You were left alone, blinking in the sudden silence, his scent still clinging to your skin, your blood still thrumming like a war drum.
You crossed the room slowly, each step softer than the last, until your legs hit the edge of his bed. And then, without thinking too hard, you slipped beneath his sheets, still warm from his body.
And for the first time in hours, you let exhaustion win.
Your eyes felt too heavy to open, but it was your own voice that betrayed you first—a soft medley of a moan and a whimper, curling out of your throat like it hadn’t asked for permission.
Everything smelled like him.
The cotton warmth of Jungkook’s bedsheets clung to your skin, soaked in his scent, and it made your limbs feel heavier, your thoughts more tangled. You shifted beneath its weight, your body aching and too warm under the covers. A chill skittered down your spine regardless.
Was there a window open?
You clenched the pillow under your head, breath catching as another whimper slipped out, softer this time, needier. “Jungkook,” you whispered into the sheets, the sound too raw for comfort, too real.
And then you felt it—that presence.
Like a sixth sense, prickling beneath your skin. The faint light beneath the door drew the silhouette of a man carved out of stillness, perfectly rigid, perfectly silent.
Your pulse surged.
Maybe he hadn’t heard. Maybe you were imagining it. Fever dreams could do that.
But your breathing turned shallow, and the room spun slightly, dragging your consciousness fully awake. You could feel him, even without seeing his face. You could feel the way his attention wrapped around you from the other side of the door like a noose waiting to tighten.
And then your mouth betrayed you again, raspy from sleep and dry with nerves. “Are you coming in or not?”
The silence fractured.
The door creaked, slow and deliberate. The knob turned with a soft click, and then he was there.
Jungkook’s eyes latched onto yours like a hook in the gut. Gone was the usual sharpness, replaced by something raw—wide and glassy, like he’d just lost a fight with his own thoughts. His hair was a darker mess than earlier, like he’d run his hands through it in frustrated loops. His face looked shadowed, haunted. Sleep hadn’t touched him.
You propped yourself up on your elbows, heat flashing beneath your skin. The thin sheet pooled at your hips, clinging to the sweat and fever coating your bare legs.
He just stood there.
“I tried the couch,” he said, voice low, almost hoarse. Like it hurt to speak.
You swallowed. Hard. “M-My clothes are probably dry now, I’ll go—”
“No.” His voice cracked with something too sharp to be gentle. He gripped the frame of the door with both hands, like he needed to anchor himself or else he’d do something reckless. “Stay. It’s not that.”
His eyes followed your leg sliding beneath the sheets, and your breath stilled.
“What is it then?” you asked, trying not to let your voice tremble.
Jungkook hesitated—then his jaw clenched, breath flaring through his nose. “I kept hearing you… couldn’t sleep.”
You licked your lips, nodding faintly. “I think I’m breaking down in a fever.”
That was all it took.
He stepped inside, slow like he was wading through quicksand. As if afraid you might flinch. His knees met the edge of the bed and he hovered there, wavering fingers finally lifting to your forehead. Then your cheek. Then the slope of your neck. His touch was gentle, hesitant. Like he was afraid to confirm what he already knew—but hungrier for the permission to touch you than he should’ve been.
You didn’t look away.
Your eyes stayed locked on his while his palm lingered against your pulse. And there was heat there, not just from the fever. Your thighs shifted under the sheets, friction teasing your skin in all the wrong—and right—places.
“So?” you asked, breathless.
Jungkook didn’t respond right away. His hand was still on your neck, fingers grazing the sensitive skin behind your ear. His lips parted like he’d forgotten how to breathe.
“Let me… uh, let me check on the stitches.”
He pulled his hand away too slowly, reluctantly, and the air felt colder where he’d been. You nodded faintly, heart hammering, remembering suddenly—damn. You were still only wearing his shirt.
You swallowed again and tugged the covers higher over your hips before raising the hem of his shirt. You stopped right under your breasts, baring the stitched flesh to his eyes.
His breath caught audibly.
He didn’t say a word. Just reached out, and when his fingers found the edge of your wound, they were soft. Reverent. He traced the perimeter of the bruising like he was learning it by touch.
Your eyes fluttered. You hadn’t expected that kind of delicacy from him. But it was undoing you in pieces.
Then his fingers drifted lower. Barely an inch, grazing your skin like they had no business being there—but made themselves welcome anyway. Your stomach coiled, every inch of you taut with anticipation. And when he reached your lower belly, your breath hitched and a moan slipped out.
He froze.
“I—” he whispered, mentioning to pull back his fingers. “I should stop.”
You were faster.
Your hand shot out, seizing his wrist, eyes blazing. “Don’t stop. Don’t you dare stop.”
His breathing turned frantic, eyes wide and searching your face like it was a war he didn’t want to win.
“You don’t know what you’re saying.” his voice trembled but made no move to get out of your hold. “You have a fever and—”
“And I’d say the same if I hadn’t one,” you interrupted, pulling him closer by the collar of his shirt until his lips hovered over yours.
Jesus, you had to be fucking delirious.
You struggled to pin his gaze, feeling the burning of your wound from holding your abs tight from the position you were in. But you weren’t stopping this.
He growled low, like something deep in him finally snapped—and crashed his mouth onto yours.
Your fingers threaded through his hair instantly, tugging with just the right amount of pressure. He moaned into the kiss, biting your lower lip, devouring you with an intensity that blurred every line you’d drawn.
Clothes started melting away, yours first. Jungkook’s mouth only left yours to slide his t-shirt over your head. Then his hands ran all over your naked back as he trailed a path from your neck to the sweet spot beneath your ear, lowering you back down.
His tongue lashed and you could feel his body was heat and tension and want as you pulled him closer to you. “You’re mine.” he whispered.
God, you needed his clothes gone.
You tipped your head back into the pillow, a whimper falling out of your mouth as you savored the warmth of his mouth back on your throat. The faint sting of his hand brushing against your ribs completely subsided by the knee he had between your legs, occasionally brushing against your core through the sheets.
“For tonight,” you teased with a grin.
Jungkook fisted your hair and covered your mouth ardently, and you moaned feeling his damn tongue all the way down between your legs where you needed him most. Your toes curled in pleasure.
You didn’t know if it was the burning fever taking control over your body or your own unbridled desire, but you needed him closer, needed to feel his skin on yours.
You started clawing his black t-shirt impatiently and he chuckled against your mouth, bringing his hand to the collar of it, pulling it out for you.
His heat poured onto your torso immediately and you shivered, letting your fingers glide over his narrow waist, getting under the waistband of his sweatpants and pulling them down to his thighs.
When you mentioned doing the same with his boxer briefs, mind dizzy as you felt him hard beneath it, he gripped your wrist, halting your movement.
“God, you’re killing me,” he lifted himself inches off your face, staring deeply, voice wrecked with need. “We can’t—”
“I told you. This is not my first rodeo,” you said against his mouth. “And I don’t want to think about all of this. Just finish what you started.”
Jungkook growled and his hand came down on your collarbone, pushing you. You fell back down onto the pillow, gasping as your hair fanned around you. He got up, baring his teeth, yanking his sweatpants and briefs all the way down.
Your heart started thumping in your ears, heat firing your chest, neck, cheeks, as your eyes drifted up his body. Your own burning for him.
Fuck. Perfect golden skin. Tight stomach, narrow waist. Toned arms, one of them inked to the knuckles—a devil in the night ready to pounce.
Killing smile.
Gentle, so fucking gentle with you tonight.
Jesus, you really were fucking delirious.
You clenched your thighs, but he kept pinning you down with his eyes, clearly unhappy about you being injured as well as you not wanting to think about the repercussions of what was going on between the both of you. Which you found adorable because his eyes kept darting to your breasts and then to your thighs as you peeled the sheets from them and watched him struggle to breathe.
Jungkook was as untamed as you were, and he couldn’t stop the storm coming any more than you could.
Suddenly, all of him was stretched above you, fitted against your body like sin. He squeezed your thigh, pushing it down on the mattress, and you spread your legs wider. A whimper left your mouth when he came down grinding on you. Your back arching, eyes closing as he sucked a nipple into his mouth.
“Mmm,” you fisted his hair back again, relishing on the softness of his raven locks.
His hips dipped again, rolling against you, and you bit your lips, pulling his face toward your mouth. “You have—” you tried as another roll of his body made you clench. “Ah—please tell me you have something.”
He looked up to your eyes, smiling. “Yeah.”
You bit his lower lip, dragging your teeth as he gasped and squeezed your under-thigh. You locked one ankle on his lower back, pushing him into you.
“Ah, fuck,” he moaned.
His body stretched as he reached for his bedside table, opening the drawer and haphazardly pulling out its contents until he found what he was looking for. Your mouth only left his neck once he rose up, taking out a condom, looking down at you from between your legs.
Jungkook’s eyebrows were etched in anger as he tore the wrapper with his teeth. His eyes never leaving your body as he tossed it and fisted his cock.
Instinctively your hand came down to rub your clit and he groaned.
He looked like a god staring down on you as he rolled the rubber on. Your head swarmed with the vision, your fingers working faster, tummy coiling expectantly.
“You’re so fucking hot it hurts,” he breathed hard, coming down on you again. Your eyes locked as he reached between you to guide himself.
Your hands snaked around his neck, one tugging at the hair on his nape as he crowned your entrance, pushing inside just barely. You couldn’t help but clench. “JK…” and he groaned in response.
“You’ll be crawling back to me,” he whispered, pressing himself deeper and deeper.
You moaned, relishing how he stretched you.
“You can run away as much as you like,” he kept going, grunting as his inked knuckles wrapped around your neck. “Throw a tantrum for all I care…”
He sank into you, filling you to the brink, so deep, stretching you so completely, that a single cry torn straight from your throat.
“But after tonight, you’ll be crawling back to me,” Jungkook growled. “Again and again—You’ll be fucking mine.”
His mouth crashed into yours, making you moan, bringing your legs to the small of his back as he withdrew and sank back in deeper and harder.
“Oh, fuck,” your back arched off the bed.
Your breathing became labored as he propped himself with his other hand, staring you down as he plunged into you over and over. He gave a little squeeze on your neck, and you clenched around his cock, making him moan, dipping his head back for a moment.
Jeon Jungkook felt so good.
God, he felt amazing on top of you.
You clawed your way from his pecs, down to his abs, and you felt it tighten under your touch. His pace turning unruly, wild.
You spread your legs wide, as wide as they would go, dazed with fever and how good it felt the deeper he went. “Nhg, you feel so fucking good—fuck,” he gasped.
“I need–” you held onto him and he sucked the air groaning, “Harder, JK.” he rolled his hips into you on command.
God, you were spiriling.
Your hands snaked around his waist, and you digged your nails into his ass, helping him roll into you harder, as you met him halfway.
Sweat glistened your bodies, and it was getting hard to breathe. You couldn’t give a damn if the stitches would tear, the lush pressure of him on top of you, inside of you, kept your mind reeling.
You’ll be fucking mine, he had said.
You already were.
“Jungkook, I–” you gasped, trying to mold his body to yours as your orgasm started building. “Jungkook–”
“What, Jungkook, what?” he teased.
But your mouth came to the curve of his neck and collarbone instead, biting and moaning as he kept ramming your spot over and over.
Your nails dragged down his back, burning his skin as you arched into him. You cried out as you found your release, the world spinning, your body wrecked as euphoria crashed into you.
Holy shit.
Jungkook came completely undone a few erratic thrusts later, with the sexiest moan you’d ever heard in your life. He managed to hold himself from collapsing on top of your wound, shifting gently to the side.
You were both a tangled and panting mess. You closed your eyes, enjoying his heavy breathing on your mouth.
You felt his hand snaking to your hair again, turning your head to the side. He pecked on your mouth slowly until you opened for him, not helping the whimper as your tongues collided again.
“Jungkook, what?” he asked again lazily, his eyes barely opening, hazy with pleasure. “What was it that you were going to say before?”
A laugh rumbled on your chest, low. You nuzzled your nose on his and although you were unable to remember what the hell you were about to say, you decided to do what you did best—tease him.
“Oh, nothing… I was just going to say that, uhm, I hate you.” you kept your eyes closed, waiting for his reaction.
When he didn’t utter a single word, you opened one of them to see his eyebrows were angry and he tilted his head in that way you fucking loved to tease him about it.
“You do know I’m literally still inside you—?”
You snorted, rolling to the side and claiming his mouth once more.
