Pairing: Andrew Pope Cody x mom!reader x toddler!daughter
Warnings: dissociation, mental health struggles, fluff, comfort.
Summary: Andrew dissociates and his girls has s rescue mission to kiss the monsters away.
Disclaimer: This story is pure fiction and written solely for entertainment purposes.
The sound of your daughter playing is loud, yet the silence inside Andrew' s head is deafening.
He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, his hands rest heavy on his knees, fingers perfectly still. His eyes are wide, unblinking, fixed entirely on the curtains. He’s sinking, trapped in a gray fog where past regrets and future dread blur together into absolute nothingness.
Outside the open bedroom door, small sneakers squeak against the hallway tile.
Your five year old daughter stops in her tracks. She carries a stuffed dog by its ear, her eyes peeking into the bedroom. She watches her dad for a long moment.
He doesn't move.
He doesn't even seem to breathe.
She’s seen this look before.
She turns on her heel and runs back to the kitchen, where you’re leaning against the counter. She tugs sharply on the hem of your shirt, her brow furrowed.
"Mama," she whispers urgently, pointing a finger back down the hall. "Dada is doing it again."
Your heart aches slightly, but you don't let it show. You know exactly what she means.
You set down your mug, offering her a reassuring smile. "Is he? Well, let's go, sweet girl."
You scoop her up into your arms, settling her against your hip. She wraps her arms around your neck, burying her face for a second before looking toward the bedroom.
When you enter the bedroom, Andrew hasn't moved an inch. He looks entirely detached from his own body, a ghost sitting in a room he built.
You position her on Andrew's right, and you sit down quietly on the other side. The bed shifts, but he doesn't react.
"Hey," you say softly. "Look who found you."
Andrew doesn't turn, but a microscopic twitch in his jaw tells you he’s trying to fight his way back through the fog.
"Okay, careful, on three, babygirl," you whisper, leaning close to Andrew's side. She mimics you perfectly, leaning her small frame against his right side, her face inches from his cheek.
"One... two... three."
Simultaneously, you press a kiss to his left cheek while your daughter plants a loud and sloppy kiss on his right.
The physical contact snaps through him.
Andrew blinks rapidly, the dull film clearing from his eyes as a sharp breath hitches in his chest. His gaze lands on his babygirl's hopeful smile, and then at you.
The tension in his shoulders visibly melts away.
"There you are," you murmur, reaching up to gently cup the back of his neck, your thumb smoothing over his hairline.
Andrew swallows hard, his hand coming up to cover yours, pressing your palm firmly against his skin as if to convince himself you're actually there. He reaches out with his other arm, wrapping it securely around his daughter's waist and pulling her tightly into his chest. He buries his face in her curls, breathing her in, baby shampoo and sunshine, before looking back at you, his eyes clear and entirely present.
"I'm here," he rasps, feeling grounded.
Andrew shifts the toddler so she’s sitting right on his lap, her back pressed against his chest. His arms wrap around her.
She looks up at him. "You were gone, Dada."
"I was," Andrew murmurs, his voice softening. He gently tucks a stray curl behind her ear, his thumb brushing over her cheek. "But you brought me back."
She beams, entirely proud of her mission. She reaches up, her small hands grabbing both sides of his face, squishing his cheeks together. "Mama said we have to kiss the monsters away."
A smile breaks across Andrew’s face, crinkling the corners of his eyes. "Did she?" he asks, glancing up at you with softness.
"Mmhmm!" She nods solemnly, releasing his face to pat his nose. "Are they gone?"
Andrew catches her tiny hand in his, pressing a gentle kiss right into her palm. "Every single one. Thank you, bug."
She giggles, the sound bright and musical, and immediately squirms until she can bury her face in his neck, hugging him tightly.
Andrew closes his eyes, resting his chin on top of her head, just holding her close as you lean in to rest your forehead against his shoulder.
⤷ One-shot!!! in which...Jungkook, a 7th year pure-blood Slytherin, is secretly in love with you, a 7th year half-blood Ravenclaw. His only obstacle from consuming you is your Gryffindor boyfriend, Minjae, whom he hates with his entire heart. Jungkook hexes him in the hallways whenever he gets the chance and silently wishes for his downfall.
Maybe I'm too busy being yours to fall for somebody new (Do i wanna know?-Arctic Monkeys)
pairing: 전정국 x fem!reader
genre: enemies to lovers | slice of life | smut | angst|
warnings: 18+, nsfw, jk is a manace, he's cocky but he's SOO in love, love triangle, dom!jungkook, swearing, multiple orgasms, making out, drinking, teasing, oral (f and m receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, class differences, power imbalance, teasing, pet names, arguing
word count: 11.3k
Click here for the characters' moodboards and information!
Taehyung slid into the chair opposite you. "You're hiding. Minjae is looking for you. He wants you to help him with some Quidditch strategy diagrams, again."
You sighed, the sound barely disturbing the quiet. "Tell him I'm studying."
Taehyung gave you a look that said he knew exactly what kind of "studying" you were doing… which was none. The heavy book in front of you was, in fact, upside down.
"Mhm, I will tell him you're studying… whatever," he said, a smirk playing on his lips. "He'll probably believe it. You're the smart one."
Then, the heavy oak doors of the library swung open, and a very specific brand of chaos walked in. Or more accurately, two brands.
Jeon Jungkook and Park Jimin. Slytherins. Pure-bloods.
"I'm telling you that it's a terrible idea," Jimin's voice was a strained whisper.
"All of my ideas are terrible, that's why they're fun," Jungkook said, his voice loud enough to carry.
You didn't need to look up. You knew that voice. Jeon Jungkook's eyes scanned the room until they landed on your little corner. He quickly looked away, a disinterest that was more telling than a stare.
"Besides, what else are we supposed to do? Study?" He snorted, leaning against a bookshelf, his arms crossed over his chest. He paused, a cruel smirk twisting his lips. "I heard Whitmore's new strategy involves trying not to fall off his broom this time. It's revolutionary, really."
Jimin let out an exasperated sigh. "Keep your voice down JK, for Merlin's sake."
Taehyung mumbled just loud enough for you to hear, "He has the emotional range of a teaspoon, I swear."
Jungkook's head snapped toward your table, his smirk widening. "What was that, Taehyung? Working on your NEWTs in stating the obvious?"
Jimin grabbed Jungkook's elbow. "Oh, we're leaving now, before you make a scene and Madam Pince bans us for life."
You finally looked up as Jimin was steering Jungkook toward the door, but not before Jungkook shot a sharp look in your direction and called over his shoulder, "Don't strain yourself, Y/n. It would be such a shame if a Ravenclaw Head Girl failed her exams."
The library door finally shut.
Taehyung closed his book with a soft thump. "That was so subtle."
You muttered, "What's his problem anyway?"
Taehyung laughed a bit. "His problem is about 5'10", wears red and gold, totally reminds him of a golden retriever, and he can't help but bring up Quidditch at the worst moments."
He gave the book cover a little tap. "But honestly, I'm more worried about into these books you’re getting. They read from bottom to top, you know."
You shut the book, a bit embarrassed. "Come on, quit it."
While you were packing up, Minjae burst into the library, his usual lively energy brightening the mood.
"There you are! I've been searching everywhere for you!" He waved from across the tables, completely unaware of the drama that just unfolded. "You won't believe the new formation I've come up with for the Hufflepuff game, it's genius, and I need your help to map it out."
"Oh, sure," you said, the words feeling hollow.
Minjae plopped down in the chair next to you, pulling out a crumpled piece of parchment from his robe pocket without even noticing the upside-down book or how flustered you were.
"Alright, picture this: instead of doing a regular starter formation, we flip it. Chasers fly in reverse! It’s a bit risky, but if we pull it off…"
Taehyung cleared his throat as he packed up his stuff. "I’m outta here. Try not to burn the library down with all this revolutionary brainstorming."
You nodded. "Catch you later." Then you looked back at Minjae. "It's a bold move..."
Minjae was grinning, totally wrapped up in his 'genius' idea, scribbling messy lines on the parchment with a quill that was leaking ink everywhere.
He was so focused on his plan that he didn’t see Jungkook come back into the library this time without his usual buddy, Jimin. Jungkook leaned against a bookshelf, not looking at you at first. He was too busy fixing the cuff of his green robes, his silver Slytherin tie just loose enough to seem a bit rebellious.
"A starter formation...? How ambitious of you. Did you come up with that all by yourself, Whitmore, or did you have help from a first-year's Quidditch practice picture book?"
Minjae was startled and turned to face him. "Jeon, we're in the library."
Jungkook pushed off the bookshelf and took a few steps closer. "I know, I can smell the desperation from here." His eyes flickered to you for a split second.
"Can you two take this somewhere else?" Your voice cut through the tension like a knife. Both boys turned to look at you, Minjae with surprise, and Jungkook with a mask of indifference that didn't quite reach his eyes.
Minjae held up his hands. "Sorry, you're right." He turned back to Jungkook. "This isn't the place."
"Don't sweat it, Y/n. We definitely wouldn’t want to interrupt your… studying," he said, giving you a pointed look at the upside-down book on the table.
Minjae let out a sigh. "What’s his deal? Seriously, he’s been acting like this for ages." He glanced at you, his expression softening. "Anyway, sorry about that. Let’s hit the Great Hall, I'm starving."
You nodded, grabbing your bag while Minjae quickly picked up his crumpled parchment.
"Lead the way, beautiful. I swear no more Quidditch talk for at least ten minutes," he said with a grin.
As you both headed out of the library, you noticed a quick shimmer of a disillusionment charm hastily casted . Next to where Jungkook had been standing was a small, crumpled piece of parchment. You bent down and snatched it up fast, folding it clumsily and shoving it into your robe pocket before Minjae noticed it.
The walk to the Great Hall was filled with Minjae chatting about random stuff, the upcoming Hufflepuff match, the treacle tart he was hoping would be dessert, and a funny story about a Gryffindor first-year. He didn’t mention Jungkook again, and he totally missed how often your fingers brushed against that folded parchment in your pocket.
Once you got to the Great Hall, it was loud and warm, buzzing with the usual dinner noise. Minjae walked you to your table and hung out with you for a moment. Across the hall, Jungkook sat at the middle of the Slytherin table, surrounded by a bunch of younger Slytherins who were clearly hanging on his every word. His eyes were locked on you.
Jimin elbowed him sharply. "You're staring, again."
Jungkook's gaze snapped back to his friend, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I'm observing; it's called strategy."
Jimin sighed. "Right. The only thing you're strategizing is how to not get another detention for hexing Minjae."
Jungkook's jaw tightened, his fingers drumming a restless rhythm on the table as he tried his best to look casual.
You sat down at the Ravenclaw table, Minjae next to you as he wanted to stay a little longer.
"Here, tart," Minjae said, pushing a small plate toward you.
You thanked him and took the food, trying to pay attention to his story about the team’s latest practice, but your mind kept wandering. A table over, Jungkook had his arm casually draped over the back of the bench, cracking up at something a seventh-year girl said, but his laugh didn’t reach his eyes.
He raised his voice just enough. "-think the best parties are the ones Filch doesn't find out about until the next morning, right, Jimin?"
Jimin stabbed a roasted potato. "I think the best parties are the ones where you don't set anything on fire."
Jungkook chuckled, his cocky grin showing. His eyes caught yours again, and he raised his goblet in a mock toast in your direction before returning to his friends.
Minjae finally noticed your distraction. "Oh, don't let him get to you. He's just trying to get a rise out of you. Out of everyone."
At the Slytherin table, Jimin whispered to Jungkook, "What do you think you're doing?"
Jungkook shoved him lightly away. "I'm having dinner."
Jungkook stood up suddenly, his chair scraping across the stone floor. The Slytherin side of the table went silent. He didn’t look at you again. Instead, he stuck his hands in his pockets and left the Great Hall. Jimin let out a sigh, rubbing his face in frustration, before getting up to go after him.
Minjae shook his head. "See? Drama. Everything is a performance with that guy." He cleared his throat. "More tart, pretty?"
You shook your head, your heart pounding. "No, thank you. Excuse me, I have to use the bathroom."
You quickly ducked into the girls' bathroom, hoping there wasn’t a ghost hanging around tonight. You leaned against the sink and pulled out the parchment you had in your pocket.
As you unfolded it, the writing was all over the place. It wasn’t a letter; it was a list.
• Charms essay (ask her for notes? Stupid)
• Check broomstick polish
• Tell Jimin to mind his own business
• Don't look at her in the Great Hall
• Don't look at her in Potions
• Don't look at her. Period.
• Yule Ball (who is she going with? Don't care.)
• I care
• Stop caring
• Her hair is beautiful in the sun.
• Merlin, I'm pathetic.
The last line was crossed out so violently that the quill had torn through the parchment in one spot. At the very bottom, written smaller, was:
• Tell her
Everything except one thing was crossed out, and that one thing was circled over and over, with the ink soaking through the paper. Suddenly, the door creaked open. You jumped, clenched the paper in your fist, and quickly shoved it back into your pocket.
And then Moaning Myrtle decided to make her entrance with a dramatic sob. "Oh, what's that in your pocket? Is it a secret? I love secrets!"
Myrtle swooped down, her translucent form passing close to your pocket. You clutched the paper instinctively.
"Nothing and nobody wants to hear you wail for the next hour," you said, your voice sharper than you intended. "Go bother someone in the prefects' bathroom. I hear they have better bubbles."
Myrtle let out a piercing wail and flew into a nearby toilet. You took a shaky breath, your mind racing. The list, the messy and crossed-out thoughts of the boy who tormented you at every turn. The boy who, it seemed, was just as tormented by you.
You stepped out of the bathroom, the crumpled paper crammed in your pocket feeling like a heavy rock. The Great Hall was still loud, but it all felt far away, like it was muffled. Minjae was still at the Ravenclaw table, chatting excitedly with one of your classmates. He noticed you and his face brightened up with a smile.
"Hey! Everything okay? You were gone a while," he asked, his brow furrowed with concern.
You forced a smile, the muscles in your face feeling foreign and stiff. "Everything's fine. Just a headache." The lie tasted like ash in your mouth.
Minjae, bless his oblivious heart, accepted it immediately, his brow smoothing out as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders.
"Ah, the perks of being the smartest and the most beautiful witch in the room. Come on, let's get you back to the common room, you need rest."
You let him guide you, you couldn't bring yourself to glance at the Slytherin table to see if Jungkook had returned. You weren't sure you could handle it. The walk to the Ravenclaw tower was a blur of Minjae's comforting chatter. You murmured noncommittal and monosyllabic responses, your mind a thousand miles away, replaying the crossed-out words on the parchment.
Finally, you reached the bronze eagle knocker. Minjae waited patiently for you to answer
"I have cities, but no houses live there. I have mountains, but no trees. I have water, but no fish. What am I?"
"A map," you answered automatically.
The door swung open, revealing the circular common room. Minjae followed you in.
"Well," he said, dropping onto one of the blue sofas. "That was… eventful. Jeon really needs a hobby." He leaned back, lacing his hands behind his head. "You know, I sometimes wonder what his deal is. We could probably be friends if he wasn't so… Slytherin about everything."
You froze by the window, your hand tightening on the sill. The crumpled parchment in your pocket seemed to burn.
"He's not just 'Slytherin', Minjae," you said, your voice quiet but sharp. "He's cruel."
Minjae sat up, his easy-going expression replaced by one of confusion. "Cruel? He's just an arrogant boy who takes the house rivalry too seriously. It's not personal."
"It's always personal with him," you whispered, turning to face him. "Don't you see that? The hexes, the comments… It's all aimed at you."
"Because I'm the Gryffindor Captain and he is the Slytherin Captain! It's part of the game!" Minjae insisted, his voice rising slightly in frustration. "Why are you defending him all of a sudden?"
"I'm not defending him!" you shot back, "I'm just… I'm saying it's not just a game to him. Nothing with him is just a game."
The silence that fell between you was heavy and unfamiliar. Minjae was looking at you like he'd never seen you before, a flicker of hurt and confusion in his hazel eyes.
"What's going on with you, Y/n? You've been distant for weeks. And now you're defending Jungkook? Is this about that note he passed you in Potions? Because that was just him being a jerk as usual."
You stared at him, and he remembered the note Jungkook had "accidentally" dropped on your desk that simply said, "Your tie is crooked, Head Girl." You had seen the way Jungkook's fingers had brushed against yours, the panicked look in his eyes before he'd masked it. You had thought it was a strange moment, now you knew it was a desperate move.
"I'm tired," you said finally, turning away from him and heading towards the girls' dormitory. "I'm going to bed."
"Y/n, wait," Minjae called out, standing up.
But you didn't stop and walked up the spiral staircase, leaving him standing alone in the middle of the common room.
You flopped onto your bed in your dorm, leaning back against the headboard. The room was quiet; your roommates were already out cold. You pulled the crumpled paper from your pocket, feeling your fingers shake as you laid it out on your lap. You read it over and over again.
Your eyes wandered to the bedside table, where a photo of you and Minjae was sitting. He had his arm around you, and that grin on his face was just full of happiness. It was a perfect snapshot of a couple in love.
You picked up the frame, tracing Minjae's smile with your thumb. You glanced back down at that frantic, ink-stained paper in your lap, and a scary thought crept in: maybe being safe just wasn’t enough anymore. Maybe it never was.
The prince in the dungeon
The decision was born of a desperate, reckless curiosity. For two days after you had found the list, the piece of parchment in your pocket felt like it was burning a hole through your robes.
"You've been a million miles away,” Minjae said on Friday afternoon, wrapping his arms around you from behind as you stared out a window. "Is it NEWT stress? Because if it is, we can have a fun study session with snacks."
You forced a laugh, leaning back into his warmth. "Something like that, just tired."
It was always the same damn excuse, and he bought it every time.
That evening, as you sat in the Great Hall, the announcement came. Jungkook was throwing a party tonight in the Slytherin common rooms.
"He's going to get himself expelled," Minjae muttered “and probably take half his house with him."
Taehyung, sitting across from you, caught your eye. He gave you a small, almost imperceptible nod. He knew, he knew you knew, and he knew this was your chance.
"I think I'm going to skip the study session tonight" you said.
Minjae looked at you, surprised. "Oh? Okay, we can just relax then, maybe sneak up to the Astronomy Tower?"
"No," you said, a little too quickly, "I mean… I heard about that party in the dungeons."
Minjae's fork clattered onto his plate. "You want to go to Jungkook's party? Y/n, why? It's just going to be a bunch of Slytherins getting drunk and being… well, Slytherins."
"I'm curious," you lied, your heart starting to pound. "I'm Head Girl, maybe I should… make an appearance, show them I'm not afraid."
It was a flimsy excuse, and you both knew it, but Minjae wanted to believe it.
"Okay," he said slowly, "If you think that's a good idea, but I'm coming with you. I'm not letting you go down there alone."
Panic flared in your chest. This wasn't part of the plan. You needed to see him, to talk to him, alone.
"No, Minjae, it's fine, really. You hate that stuff anyway. I'll just pop in, make a scene, and leave. It'll be good for my reputation."
He looked unconvinced, but you gave him your most convincing smile, the one that usually made him agree to anything.
"Alright but be careful.”
You nodded, your throat tight. "I got it."
An hour later, you find yourself wandering down a dark, unfamiliar hallway, your footsteps echoing off the stone walls. . You're making your way to the dungeons, drawn in by the muffled music. As you reach the bottom of the last staircase, the noise hits you first, and the air is thick with the smell of Firewhiskey.
The password, told to you by a cheeky Slytherin, is "Pureblood."
When you step into the common room, it's like a whole different world. The place is packed with students, a sea of Slytherin green mixed with a few from other houses, all dancing, laughing, and drinking. You can’t help but feel like you stand out in your blue and silver colors.
And then you notice him.
Jungkook is up on a raised platform, drink in hand, looking like he owns the place. His gaze sweeps over the crowd. He definitely gives off the cocky pureblood prince vibe, and you think about bailing.
But then he spots you.
His eyes lock with yours, and the smirk he had disappears for a moment. He looks genuinely surprised, but then a slow, confident grin spreads across his face. He says something to Jimin, who’s next to him, and starts pushing through the crowd, still keeping his eyes on you.
"Well, well," he said, his voice low and raspy, just for you. "Look at you, come to bust the party, Head Girl?"
"I came to see what all the fuss was about."
"The fuss is about not caring. You should try it sometime." His eyes flickered down to your pocket. "Or maybe you already are."
Your breath hitched. He knew you'd taken the list, he had to. This was a game of cat and mouse. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Don't you?" He was so close now you could smell the Firewhiskey on his breath. "You're in my world, Y/n. You should learn the rules."
"And what are the rules?" you challenged him, your chin held high, your arms crossed.
His gaze dropped to your lips, and for a heart-stopping moment, you thought he was going to kiss you right there, in the middle of his own party, but then he smirked.
"The first rule is that you don't belong here."
He looked entirely too proud of himself. He was playing with her, treating the conversation like a Quidditch match where he already had the lead. He liked the way she crossed her arms, it was a defensive gesture, but it didn't hide the way she was still flushed.
"Besides, if you leave now, you're just proving me right. You're just a little bird who's too scared to stay in the dark for more than five minutes."
"Fine," Y/n said, the word defiant.
"Now that's more like it."
Your gaze shifted without meaning to a couple making out in the corner of the room. His eyes followed your line of sight to the couples, and Jungkook let out a low, mocking hum.
"Careful, Y/n. If you stare too long, you might actually learn something. What's the matter? Is the Gryffindor too gentle? Does he only hold your hand and kiss your forehead?"
Y/n felt the heat creep up her neck. "None of your business."
Jungkook chuckled sarcastically. He turned away from you and rejoined his friends. You didn't leave, and you grabbed a bottle of something that smelled like cinnamon from a nearby table and took a sip. It burned all the way down.
You spent the next hour watching him from across the room. You saw him charm a pretty sixth-year girl, saw him win a round of wizard's chess, saw him laugh with Jimin, and through it all, you felt his eyes on you, quick glances that he thought you didn't notice.
Finally, you'd had enough, you set your bottle down and pushed your way through the crowd towards the exit. You'd seen enough for tonight and you knew what you had to do.
You were almost at the door when a hand shot out and grabbed your wrist, pulling you into a small, dark alcove behind a tapestry. He slammed his other hand against the wall beside your head, caging you in. The noise of the party was suddenly muffled, replaced by the sound of your own breathing.
“What the-”
"Where do you think you're going?”
"Home," you said, your voice trembling.
He leaned in closer, his face inches from yours. "You shouldn't have come here," he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. "You shouldn't have seen that."
"Seen what? The perfect party?"
"This," he said, gesturing vaguely at the party beyond the tapestry. "This is all I have. This is all I am, a joke, a performance. Is that what you wanted to see?"
"No," you whispered, your anger melting away. "That's not what I see at all."
His eyes searched yours, desperately "Then what do you see?"
You saw the boy who wrote the list, the boy who was desperately lonely, the boy who thought he was unlovable.
"I see you-," you whispered, the words hanging in the charged air between you.
"You don't, you see him." He jerked his head in the direction of the party, in the direction of where Minjae would be. "You see the charming Gryffindor hero. You don't see this."
"This?" you asked, your voice barely a whisper. "What is this, Jungkook? This party? This… mask? Is this all you think you are?"
"It's all I'm allowed to be!" he said angrily, his eyes blazing. "Do you have any idea what it's like? To be told, every single day, that your worth is tied to your name, your blood, your ability to be ruthless?”
He was so close, his body trembling with the force of his confession
"I look at you and I see everything I'm supposed to hate, everything I can't have. You're good, you're brilliant, you’re beautiful and kind, and you're with him, the perfect Gryffindor. It's a fucking fairytale, and I'm the monster in the dungeon."
"You're not a monster," you breathed, your hand coming up to rest on his chest, over the frantic beating of his heart.
He didn't pull away. "Aren't I?" he challenged, his voice a bitter whisper. "I hex your boyfriend in the corridors, I spread rumors about him, I do everything I can to make his life miserable because I'm jealous of him. I'm jealous of the way he gets to hold your hand, I'm jealous of the way you look at him, I'm jealous of the air he breathes because it's the same air you're breathing. If that's not a monster, what is?"
"Why?" you asked, your own voice shaking. "Why do you do it? Why not just… tell me?"
"And say what?" he laughed, a harsh, broken sound. " 'Hey, Y/n, I know I've been a bastard for the past seven years, but I'm secretly in love with you, please leave the wonderful, decent guy you're dating for the messed-up son of a Death Eater sympathizer who doesn't know how to feel anything without hating himself for it?' How well do you think that would go?"
"I would have listened" you said, your heart aching for him.
"No. You wouldn't have. You would have seen me as a joke. A pathetic Slytherin pining after something he can't have. It's better this way, the enemy part, at least that's real."
"It's not real," you insisted, your fingers curling into the fabric of his robe. "None of it is real. This…" you said, gesturing to the space between you, "…is real. This is the realest thing I've felt in years."
For a moment, you thought you had reached him. The wall of arrogance and cruelty crumbled, leaving just the boy who was lost and scared and so incredibly in love with you, it was destroying him. He leaned in, his eyes fluttering shut, his lips parting slightly. He was going to kiss you. And you were going to let him.
You licked your lips
You swallowed
Your stomach did the flip thing
But then, a loud cheer erupted from the party, followed by the sound of a shattering bottle, and Jungkook's eyes snapped open, everything you’ve tried to build tonight crashed down.
"No," he whispered, pulling back from you, running a hand through his hair, his eyes wild. "No, we can't, I can't."
"Jungkook, wait-” you reached for him, but he flinched away.
"Don't," he said, his voice flat "This was a mistake, a big stupid mistake.” He straightened his robes, the mask was back on. "You should go."
"Jungkook, please…," you begged, your heart breaking.
"Go back to your tower, Y/n." He didn't look at you, he looked at the stone wall behind you, as if you were no longer there. "Go back to your boyfriend.”
He turned his back on you and walked away, disappearing into the crowd of laughing, Slytherins. He had pushed you away, but not before he had given you everything.
You stumbled out from behind the tapestry. You didn't look back, you couldn't. The walk back to the Ravenclaw tower was a nightmare.
The rest of the weekend drifted by in a quiet silence. You stayed away from the Great Hall, saying you had a terrible headache at the NEWT level, and Taehyung kindly brought your meals to your room. Minjae kept sending owl messages, each one cheerier than the last, checking in on how you were feeling and letting you know he was thinking of you. But, somehow, you just couldn't find the words to reply to any of them.
By Monday, the bubble of your isolation had to burst. You had Charms with the Gryffindors, and you knew you couldn't avoid Minjae forever. Walking into the classroom felt like marching to your own execution.
"Hey! You're back!" he whispered as you sat down, his hand immediately finding yours on the desk. "I was so worried. Are you feeling better?"
"I'm fine," you lied, pulling your hand away to retrieve your wand. "Just needed some quiet."
"Right," he said, his smile faltering slightly. "Well, I'm glad you're here, maybe you can help me with the wrist flick, I always mess it up."
You tried to focus, you really did. You tried to listen to Flitwick and to perform the practiced flicks of your wand, but all you could think about was the way Jungkook's body caged you in, and the sound of his voice as he confessed everything.
He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a concerned whisper. "Y/n, seriously. What's going on? Is this about Jungkook's party? Did he say something to you? Did he hurt you?"
"I think we should talk, Minjae," you said, your voice barely audible over the chatter of the class. "Meet me by the Black Lake, after class."
He didn't know what, but he knew something was fundamentally wrong. "Okay, the Black Lake, after class."
The next twenty minutes were the longest of your life. When the bell finally rang, you packed your bag with shaking hands and walked out of the castle. He found you a few minutes later, his hands shoved deep in his pockets, his shoulders hunched against the cold. He looked at you with those honest, hazel eyes.
"So, this sounds serious."
"Don't," you whispered, turning away from him to look at the water. "Please don't be kind right now."
"What? Why? Y/n, whatever it is, we can fix it. Just talk to me."
"I am trying to talk to you! I'm breaking up with you."
"You're… what? No, you're not. You're just stressed."
"It's not that," you said, finally turning to face him. His face was pale. "This isn't working, Minjae."
"Not working?" he repeated, a humorless laugh escaping his lips. "What does that even mean? We've been working for years! We work!"
"We were," you corrected gently. "But we're not anymore."
"Is this because of him?" he demanded, his voice rising with anger. "Is this because of Jungkook? That party? What did he do to you?"
"He didn't do anything!" you insisted, the words feeling more and more like a lie. "This is about me. This is about… us. We're a fairytale, Minjae. We’re a lovely story, but it's not real."
"It is real!" he shouted, stepping closer. "What I feel for you is real! Is this a joke? Are you breaking up with me because you're bored? Because you've decided you want some drama in your life? Is that what this is?"
"No!" you cried, tears finally welling in your eyes. "It's because I don't love you! Not the way you deserve, not the way I should."
"You don't… but you said…"
"I know what I said," you whispered, the tears now streaming down your face. "And I meant it when I said it. But things change, and people change."
"So you've changed," he said, his voice flat. " You've changed so much that you just throw away two years? Don't I deserve a real reason? Don't I deserve the truth?"
"The truth is that I'm not the person you think I am. And you deserve someone who is, someone who can give you all of this, without hesitation." You gestured between you, to the life you had built together. "I can't. I’m sorry."
"So that's it," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "Just like that."
"I'm so sorry, Minjae," you choked out. "I am so, so sorry."
He shook his head, a sad, broken little smile touching his lips. "Don't be. Just… go. Please. Just go."
You didn't want to. You wanted to stay and explain, to take the pain away, but you knew you couldn't. You turned and walked away, leaving him standing alone; the perfect hero had just lost its heroine.
You skipped dinner that night and found yourself hiding in the back of the library, acting like you were researching some potion you already knew by heart. You felt like such a coward for breaking a good guy's heart, and now you were just avoiding the fallout. Every time the library doors opened, you freaked out, hoping it wouldn’t be Minjae or, even worse, Taehyung, showing up and wanting to know what the hell happened.
It was nearly curfew when a shadow fell over your book.
"Rough day, Head Girl?" He slid into the seat opposite you, his movements fluid and predatory. He looked rested, composed, a stark contrast to the emotional wreckage you had become.
"What do you want, Jeon?" you asked, not looking up from your book. Your voice was hoarse from crying.
He reached across the table and deliberately closed your book.
"I want to know why," he said. “I want to know why you did it."
"I don't know what you're talking about," you lied, your voice a pathetic whisper.
"Don't even think about lying to me. You dumped him, the so-called hero of your fairytale. So I'm gonna ask you again. Why?"
You had no answer. How could you explain that his confession changed everything?
"I… I had to," you stammered, looking away.
"Had to?" He laughed harshly. "No one has to do anything, Y/n. You wanted to end it. Why? Was it because of me?"
Your head snapped back to his. "What?"
"Was it because of me?" he repeated. "Did you see me on Friday night and decide your perfect little life wasn't so perfect anymore? Did my 'performance' finally get to you?"
"It wasn't a performance!" you shot back, your own anger rising to meet his. "I saw you, Jungkook. The real you."
"The real me?" he laughed again, that same broken, bitter sound. "You saw a pathetic, drunken mess in a dungeon who spilled his guts because he couldn't keep his fucking mouth shut. That's not the real me. The real me is the one who hexes your boyfriend and makes your life hell. That's the one you should be afraid of."
"I'm not afraid of you."
"You should be," he hissed, leaning even closer. "You took it, the list. The one thing, the one stupid, pathetic piece of parchment in the entire world that was just for me, and you took it. You read it, and then what? You decided to do what? Pity me? You felt so sorry for the monster in the dungeon that you threw away your prince?"
"No," you breathed, shaking your head.
"Then what?" he demanded, his voice rising in frustration. "Give me one good reason why you would throw away everything for… for this."
You couldn’t tell him the whole story. You couldn't admit that all those mean things he’d said now felt like love notes. You couldn’t say that his broken confession stuck with you more than two years of Minjae being all sweet and easygoing. So, you did the only thing you could think of: you dug into your pocket.
His eyes followed your movement, his breath catching in his throat. You pulled out the crumpled, worn piece of parchment, his list. You didn't unfold it.
"This," you said, your voice shaking. "This is why."
"I don't understand," he whispered.
"You told me to tell you what I see. You said I see the hero, and honestly, you’re right, I did. I saw that boy who was kind, good, and safe. But he wasn't really mine, not really." You glanced down at the parchment in your hand. "This… this is mine. This chaotic, messy, broken thing. This is real, and I'm over pretending it's not.
He looked at the paper, then back at you, his eyes wide with realization. He hadn’t pushed you away; he’d actually pulled you in.
“No,” he whispered, like it was both a prayer and a curse. “You can’t. You shouldn’t.”
“I already did,” you replied softly.
The days after the breakup blurred into a week. You were… on your own. The castle felt off. Minjae kept his distance, which was both good and bad. You’d catch sight of him in the Great Hall or outside on the lawns. Taehyung was always around, his sharp eyes catching everything, but he gave you your space.
And then there was Jungkook.
Nothing much happened, at least on the surface. He went back to being Jeon Jungkook, the cocky Slytherin prince, but it felt different now. You noticed the cracks, you saw how his eyes searched for you across a crowded room, not with his usual teasing. He was giving you space, which had to be tough for him. He was waiting, you realized. Waiting for you to make the next move. The ball was in your court.
However, things hit a boiling point on Friday morning.
The Great Hall was buzzing with the pre-weekend energy. You were picking at a piece of toast when Taehyung slid onto the bench beside you.
"You look like a dead pufferskin," he stated, not unkindly. "Have you even slept?"
"Shut it, Taehyung," you mumbled, pushing your plate away.
He sighed, pulling a bowl of porridge towards him. "Look, I know you're going through… whatever this is. But you can't just exist on air and angst forever.”
"I'll be fine."
"No, you won't," he said flatly. "And neither will he."
You didn’t need to ask who ‘he’ was. Your eyes automatically shifted to the Slytherin table. Jungkook was staring blankly at his plate, pushing food around like he was annoyed but didn’t have the energy to care. Jimin was chatting with him, looking worried, but Jungkook wasn’t really paying attention. He looked just as miserable as you felt.
Just then, the main doors of the Great Hall creaked open, Minjae. He wasn’t his usual bubbly self. He scanned the Ravenclaw table and finally locked eyes with you. For a moment, you could see a flash of something cross his face before it turned cold, and he focused on someone else.
Jungkook.
Before you could even wrap your head around what was going on, Minjae was confidently walking across the Great Hall.
Taehyung grabbed your arm under the table. "Oh no. Y/n, don’t just sit there."
But you were totally frozen. You could only watch as Minjae stopped right in front of the Slytherin table, staring straight at Jungkook.
"We need to talk, Jeon," Minjae said.
Jungkook slowly lifted his head. The tired look was gone. He leaned back in his chair, throwing an arm over the back in a way that showed he didn’t care.
"What’s up, Whitmore?" Jungkook said with sarcasm. "Your amazing new plan to lose tomorrow’s match?"
A few of the younger Slytherins laughed. Jimin looked like he was about to be sick.
"This isn't about Quidditch," Minjae said, his voice tight with restraint. "This is about Y/n."
At the sound of your name, Jungkook's entire posture changed. He sat up straight.
"Ah," Jungkook said, his voice now dangerously soft. "The Head Girl. What about her? Did she come crying to you, telling you the big, bad monster scared her in the dungeon?"
Minjae's fists clenched at his sides. "You have no idea what you're talking about."
"Don't I?" Jungkook stood up, towering over Minjae. "I saw you sulking around for a week. I know she finally got fed up with pretending to be happy with the perfect Gryffindor. She woke up and realized she wanted something real."
That last part hit hard. A gasp went through the students nearby. You felt your face go pale.
"You're lying," Minjae shot back, stepping closer. "You manipulated her. This is all your fault."
"My fault?" Jungkook chuckled, but it sounded nasty. "How's it my fault she finally realized you're just a boring, safe placeholder? I didn't even have to lift a finger. You messed up all on your own."
That was all Minjae needed to hear.
He charged at Jungkook, hands stretched out, ready to grab the collar of Jungkook's fancy robes. But Taehyung was quicker. "Immobulus!" A blast light hit Minjae mid-lunge, freezing him in a goofy pose.
Jungkook didn’t even blink. He ignored Taehyung, the professors rushing in. He locked eyes with Minjae. Slowly, he raised his wand.
“Finite Incantatem,”
The spell hit. Minjae stumbled forward, nearly losing his balance before he caught himself, breathing hard, embarrassment flaring in his eyes. Jungkook just saved him from making things worse.
“Don’t you dare touch me,” Minjae growled, his voice strained. “Don’t even look at me after what you’ve done.”
“What I’ve done?” Jungkook took a step closer, stepping into Minjae’s space, holding his wand loosely at his side like a casual threat. “I haven’t done anything. That’s the issue, right? I stayed out of it. I kept quiet. And she still left you.”
"You messed with her head!" Minjae shot back, his voice shaking. "You've been filling it with your garbage for years!"
Jungkook laughed, “Garbage? I told her the truth. I told her I was a wreck. I told her I was a monster. The only thing I’m guilty of is wanting her. What about you? You had her! You had everything anyone could want, but you were so boring that you let her slip away."
"I loved her!" Minjae yelled, fists clenched and unclenched at his sides, "I would have done anything for her!"
"Anything except what she actually needed," Jungkook shot back, his words hitting hard. "You loved the idea of her, the smart, pretty girlfriend to make you look good. Did you ever really see her? Did you notice how she bit her lip when she was deep in thought? Did you know she hates treacle tart but ate it every time you offered it because she didn't want to hurt your feelings?"
Each question was a fresh blow, and you watched Minjae's face crumble. He didn't know. He didn't know any of it. And Jungkook, the boy who supposedly hated you, knew everything.
"She was happy with me," Minjae whispered, a last, desperate defense.
"Was she? Or was she just comfortable? There’s a difference. She was settling for a life that was easy, safe, and a bit empty. I just… I gave her a reason to stop."
Minjae looked completely shattered. He locked eyes with Jungkook, pleading for him to deny it, to tell him it was all a lie. But Jungkook said nothing. Eventually, Minjae’s gaze slipped past Jungkook to you across the silent hall. The anger had faded from his eyes, replaced by deep sorrow. He understood now, he saw everything. With that final, heartbreaking look, he walked out of the Great Hall.
Jungkook's shoulders drooped for a moment, the weight of his victory pressing down on him. Every eye in the room was on you, judging silently. You were the reason for this chaos, the girl at the center of a storm you hadn't known how to stop.
In that crowd, his eyes found yours. His eyes locked onto yours, and in them, you saw not a question but a command. Come.
You pushed your chair back, the sound slicing through the quiet like a shout. Keeping your head up and your expression blank, you made your way over to him. You didn’t glance at Taehyung’s worried expression or Jimin’s cautious look. All that mattered was reaching him.
He met you halfway, right before the huge doors of the hall. He didn't say a word; just turned and brushed past you, and you fell in step beside him. Instead of dragging you down to the dungeons or some creepy hidden spot, he took you up on the moving staircases. As you climbed higher, the noise of the castle faded away, replaced by the sound of your own racing heartbeat. He was guiding you to a place filled with ghosts and memories, somewhere you hadn’t been in ages.
The Room of Requirement
"Are you happy now?" you finally asked, your voice barely a whisper.
He turned slowly. "Happy?" he repeated, the word a bitter taste on his tongue. "No. I'm not happy."
He closed the distance between you in two long strides.
"I'm furious. I'm furious at him for being so blind. I'm furious at you for being so stupid. And most of all, I'm furious at myself for thinking for one second that this could ever end well."
"You didn't have to do that," you shot back, he grabbed your wrist.
"Didn't I?" he chuckled. "What was I supposed to do? Let him keep living in his little fantasy? Let him keep looking at you like you were his trophy? I had to show everyone. You’re not his. You never were."
"And I'm yours?" you whispered.
His eyes grew dark as he lifted his other hand, fingers gently tracing your jaw, his touch surprisingly soft compared to the tight grip he had on your wrist.
"You've always been mine, little raven," he said quietly, his thumb brushing your bottom lip.
And then he kissed you.
It wasn't soft or sweet at all. His mouth was demanding, pushing against yours with an urgency that took your breath away. He pressed you back until your shoulders hit the cool stone of the wall, trapping you in.
He let go of your wrist and tangled his fingers in your hair, tilting your head to make the kiss deeper. His other hand moved down your back, pulling you against him so you could feel his arousal through your robes. A gasp slipped out, and he seized the chance, slipping his tongue inside to explore and claim you.
Your hands flew around his neck, pulling him closer. You wanted to crawl inside his skin, to consume him, to be consumed by him.
He broke the kiss, both of you panting, your foreheads pressed together. The night air was cold on your swollen lips.
He leaned in again, but this time his kiss was softer. It felt different, almost like he was cherishing the moment after that intense passion from before. His lips moved against yours slowly, setting a rhythm that made your legs feel a little wobbly. One of his hands slid from your back to your hip, his thumb drawing little circles, sending shivers all over you.
"Y/n," he murmured against your lips, making your name sound almost sacred. "You’ve gotta tell me this is real."
"It's real," you promised.
That was all the permission he needed.
His mouth reclaimed yours with a renewed hunger, his hands growing bolder. He found the clasp of your school robes, his fingers fumbling with it for a moment before it came undone with a soft click. The heavy wool pooled at your feet, leaving you in the thin white blouse and skirt.
He reached out and slowly, deliberately, began to unbutton your blouse. His fingers were calloused from Quidditch, rough against your skin. One button. Two. Three. He took his time, his eyes never leaving yours, watching your every reaction.
When your blouse was open, he pushed it off your shoulders, letting it fall to the stone floor. You stood before him in your simple white bra and skirt.
"You're so beautiful, little raven." He reached out and traced the lacy edge of your bra with his fingertips. "Merlin, I've thought about this. About what you'd look like. In bed, under me."
His words sent a fresh wave of heat through you. He leaned down and kissed the hollow of your throat. His kiss felt warm and open, and he traced a line down your neck to your collarbone. You tilted your head back, letting him have better access, a soft sigh slipping from your lips. His hands were on your waist, holding you steady.He found the sensitive spot behind your ear, and you couldn't stop the moan that rose in your throat. He chuckled, a low, rumbling sound against your skin.
"I knew you'd be sensitive here," he murmured. "I spent an entire Transfiguration lesson once just watching the way you'd twist your hair when you were concentrating, wondering if you'd make that same little sound if I put my mouth right… here." He punctuated his words with a sharp nip of his teeth, and you jolted, a gasp torn from your lips.
"Jungkook," you breathed.
"Tell me what you want, pretty," he commanded, his mouth moving back up to claim yours in a searing kiss. "Tell me, Y/n."
You couldn't form the words. All you could do was hold on tighter, arching against him, a silent, desperate plea for more.
He seemed to understand. He broke the kiss, breathing heavily, "Can't talk? That's okay. I can do all the talking."
His hands moved from your waist to the small of your back, tracing the curve of your spine before sliding down to grab your ass through the fabric of your skirt. He squeezed, pulling you tight against him, and you gasped as you felt his hard cock pressing into your stomach.
"You feel that?" he said, his lips close to your ear. "That's what you do to me. You've been doing it for years. Every time you walked into a room, every time you answered a question in class, even when you just breathed in my direction."
His hands were restless now, roaming over your body, learning the shape of you. He slid one hand up your side, his thumb brushing against the side of your breast. You whimpered, pushing into his touch, needing more.
"Patience, I've waited too long for this to rush it."
But his own patience was running out. He let out a frustrated groan, reached behind you, and struggled a bit with your bra's clasp. It clicked open, and he tossed it aside with the rest of your clothes. The night air hit your bare skin, and your nipples instantly got hard.
Jungkook stilled, his gaze fixed on your chest. "Fuck, you're perfect."
He reached out, his hand lingering for a second before he grabbed one of your breasts, his palm warm and heavy. He ran his thumb over your already hard nipple, and you let out a gasp.
"Shh," he murmured, leaning down to take the other into his mouth. "We don't want to bring the whole castle up here, do we?"
His mouth was hot and wet, a shocking contrast to the cold air. He swirled his tongue around the sensitive peak, then sucked, hard. Your hands flew to his hair, your fingers tangling in the soft strands, holding him to you. He gave attention to your breasts, alternating between them, his mouth and hands working in rhythm.
Just when you thought you couldn't take anymore, he pulled back, his breathing ragged.
"I need to see all of you," he said, his voice a raw, rough command.
He dropped to his knees before you, He looked up at you from his position. He reached out and placed his hands on your hips, his thumbs hooking into the waistband of your skirt. You nodded.
Slowly, he peeled your skirt down your legs, his fingers tracing the path of the fabric as it went. He followed it with his mouth, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to your hips, your stomach, the tops of your thighs. You were trembling.
When your skirt was around your ankles, you where in nothing but your simple cotton underwear.
"You're shaking," he observed, his voice soft.
"You're doing this to me," you managed to say, your voice barely audible.
"I haven't even started yet."
He hooked his fingers into the sides of your panties and slowly pulled them down. You stepped out of them. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss under your navel, his lips soft and gentle. You gasped, your hands flying to his shoulders to steady yourself.
"Jungkook," you pleaded, not even sure what you were begging for.
"I know," he murmured against your skin. "I know."
He shifted, settling between your thighs. He looked up at you one last time, and then he lowered his head.
The first touch of his tongue against your clit was a lick and it sent a shockwave of pleasure through you so intense your knees buckled. He held you steady, his hands gripping your hips, while his mouth working its magic.
He didn’t hold back. He explored you with his. He circled your clit, then flicked it, then sucked it into his mouth. Your world was just the sensation of his mouth on you, the rough slide of his tongue, the desperate sounds of your own breathing.
You were babbling now, a stream of incoherent pleas and praises. "Please, Jungkook, yes, don't stop, please, please, please…"
He didn't stop. He increased his pace, his movements becoming more urgent, more demanding. He slid one hand from your hip, his fingers finding your entrance. He teased you for a moment, circling the opening, before sliding one long finger inside you.
You cried out, your inner walls clenching around him. He began to move his finger in time with the movements of his tongue while you were closer to the edge. He added a second finger, stretching you.
"Come for me, Y/n, let me feel it, let me taste you."
With a final, desperate cry, you orgasmed. It left you breathless and shaking, and he held you through it, his mouth and fingers milking every last drop of your slick.
Once the shaking finally stopped, he stood up and wrapped his arms around you. You sank against him, your head on his chest, listening to his heart. He just held you for a while, gently running his fingers through your hair.
"You're gorgeous," he murmured.
You looked up and kissed him. You could taste yourself on his lip, his tongue sliding into your mouth. He was still fully dressed, and the rough texture of his robes felt amazing against your bare skin. All you could think about was wanting to feel him fully, wanting to see him.
You pulled back, your hands going to the front of his robes. "Your turn."
He watched you as you fumbled with the clasp of his robes. Your fingers were clumsy with urgency, but you finally managed to get it open. You pushed the heavy fabric off his shoulders, and it joined yours on the stone floor.
He was wearing a simple black shirt underneath. You made quick work of the buttons, your hands brushing against the warm, hard plane of his chest. He was lean and muscular, his body a testament to years of Quidditch training.
Your fingers trembled as they traced the lines of his chest, feeling the steady, rapid beat of his heart beneath your palm. You pushed the black shirt off his shoulders, and it joined the growing pile of discarded clothing on the cold stone floor. You reached out, your fingers tracing the lines of his abs, feeling them tighten under your touch. He sucked in a sharp breath, his hands coming to rest on your waist.
"Your hands are cold," he murmured, a low rumble in his chest.
"Sorry," you whispered, but you didn't stop touching him.
"Don't be," he said, his voice thick.
His skin was warm, and you could feel the fine tremor running through him, a mirror to your own. He was magnificent, and he was all yours.
Your gaze drifted downward, to the very obvious bulge straining against the fabric of his trousers. You swallowed hard.
"Like what you see, little raven?" he asked, his voice a low, husky rumble.
Instead of answering, you leaned forward and pressed your lips to his chest, right over his heart. You could feel it thumping against your mouth. You kissed your way across his chest, your tongue darting out to taste the salty skin, to trace his collarbones. His hands came up to rest on your back, his fingers digging into your flesh as if he needed to anchor himself.
With a surge of confidence, you let your hand drift lower, palming him through his trousers. He groaned. His hips jerked forward instinctively, seeking more friction.
You knelt before him, just as he had done for you, your gaze fixed on the button of his trousers. Your hands shook as you undid it, the sound of the zipper loud. You looked up at him, your eyes wide, and saw the raw, naked hunger on his face.
You hooked your fingers into the waistband of his boxers and slowly pulled them down. His cock sprang free, hard and thick. It was bigger than you'd imagined, the head flushed, a bead of moisture glistening at the tip.
Your breath hitched in your throat. You'd seen boys before; you’d seen Minjae, but this was different.
You reached out a trembling hand and wrapped your fingers around him. He was hot and hard in your grasp, the skin velvety soft over the rigid core. He let out a harsh groan, his hips bucking forward instinctively.
"Fuck, Y/n," his head falling back. "Don't… don't tease."
You weren't teasing. You were exploring. You ran your thumb over the head, smearing the bead of pre-cum over the sensitive skin. He shuddered, a full-body tremor that ran through him like a wave.
"You don't have to."
“Shut up, Jeon, I want to.”
You leaned in and flicked your tongue against the tip, tasting the salty, slightly bitter flavor of him.
He hissed, his hands flying to your hair, his fingers tangling in the strands. "Y/n," he warned, his voice strained. "I'm serious. If you… if you do that…"
You looked up at him, your lips hovering just a breath away from his cock. "If I do what?" you whispered boldly.
"Gods," he groaned, his eyes squeezing shut. "If you put your mouth on me, I won't be able to control myself. I'll… I'll fuck your mouth. And I don't want to do that. Not yet."
His words sent a fresh wave of heat to your core. He wanted you so much he was afraid of his own reaction.
You took a deep breath and made your choice. You wanted to taste him, to feel him, to give him the same mind-blowing pleasure he had just given you. You wanted to see him lose control.
You wrapped your lips around the head of his cock, swirling your tongue around the sensitive tip. He cried out, his fingers tightening in your hair, his hips jerking forward. You took more of him into your mouth.
You couldn't take all of him, not at first, but you tried. You relaxed your jaw and took him deeper, your hand working the base of his shaft in time with the movements of your mouth. He was breathing heavily now, his head thrown back, his eyes closed. The sounds he was making were driving you crazy.
He was right. He couldn't control himself. His hips began to move, a slow, shallow rocking at first, then faster, deeper, his cock hitting the back of your throat.
"Y/n, fuck, your mouth… so good… gods.”
"Fuck, yes, just like that. Your mouth is so fucking good."
You hollowed your cheeks, sucking harder, and he cried out, his whole body tensing. You could feel him getting closer, his thrusts becoming more erratic.
“Y/n, I'm gonna…"
He tried to pull back, to warn you, but you held on. With a final groan, he came, his hot, salty release flooding your mouth. You swallowed, your throat working, milking him for every last drop.
“You crazy little witch,” he murmured against your lips, his voice hoarse.
You chuckled softly.
He shifted, his body covering yours. He was already hard again, his cock pressing against your thigh.
"I need to be inside you. Are you ready for me, little raven?" he murmured against your lips.
You nodded frantically. He reached between your legs, his fingers finding your clit. You were still wet from your earlier orgasm, and his fingers slid easily through your folds. He circled your clit, then slid two fingers inside you, testing your readiness.
"Mhm, You're so wet for me," he said.
"All for you," you echoed.
His fingers stroked and teased you until you were squirming beneath him, begging. He reached between you, guiding his cock to your entrance.
"Look at me, clever girl," he commanded, his voice low and intense.
You forced your eyes open, and he held your gaze as he slowly, deliberately, pushed into you.
There was a brief, sharp sting as he stretched you, and you cried out, your nails digging into his shoulders. He stilled.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
You took a deep breath, the pain already starting to fade. "I'm okay," you said. "Don't stop."
He began to thrust slowly and deeply at first, then faster, harder. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the silent room.
"Harder," you gasped, your voice a raw, desperate plea. "Jungkook, harder."
His movements becoming almost brutal, his cock pounding into you, driving you closer and closer to the edge.
"You're so tight, sweetheart," he gritted out, his fingers digging into your thighs. "So fucking perfect."
He reached between you again, his fingers finding your clit. He rubbed it in time with his thrusts, and you felt your orgasm building again. Your entire body tensed, your muscles locking up as the pleasure increased.
"Come for me, Y/n," he commanded, his voice strained. "Come with me."
With a final, brutal thrust and a hard pinch of your clit, you orgasmed. You screamed his name, your body shaking underneath him, your inner walls clamping down on his cock in a series of powerful, rhythmic spasms. He fucked you through it, his thrusts becoming erratic, his control finally breaking as your body milked him. With a loud, guttural groan, he buried himself to the hilt inside you, his own orgasm crashing over him, and you felt the hot, powerful pulse of his release as he spilled into you.
He collapsed on top of you, his face buried in the crook of your neck. You were both panting, your bodies sweaty and trembling. He didn't move for a long time, and you didn't want him to. You wrapped your arms around his back, holding him close.
“Hi," he whispered, a small, crooked smile playing on his lips.
You laughed, a breathy, soundless puff of air. "Hi," you whispered back.
He leaned down and kissed you gently. "Are you okay?" he asked again, his thumb gently stroking your cheek.
"I'm more than okay," you whispered.
He smiled, a genuine, brilliant smile that lit up his entire face. He kissed your forehead, your nose, your lips.
“Me too," he murmured against your skin.
With a soft sigh, he carefully withdrew, the loss of his warmth making you shiver. He grabbed the heavy wool of the discarded school robes and draped them over you both.
"You’re going to have bruises," you murmured. "I'm sorry," you said, your voice thick with regret. "I got... carried away. I didn't hurt you, did I? Truly?" You shifted, propping yourself up on your elbow to look down at him.
He reached up and cupped your cheek, his thumb stroking his skin. "No, little raven. You didn't hurt me. Plus, I like them, they're a reminder."
"A reminder that you’re mine?" you asked.
"Mhm, always," he confirmed. "So. What do we do now, Y/n?"
"We walk out of here, and tomorrow, we sit together at breakfast. And I’ll sit at your table, and you’ll hold my hand, and we won't care who sees."
"Just like that? You know…Y/n, my father-"
"Just like that," you confirmed.
He buried his face in your hair, his arms tightening around you like he was afraid you might disappear.
"I love you," he whispered, the words muffled against your skin. "I think I've loved you since the 4th year.”
You laughed, "I thought you were an arrogant, Quidditch-obsessed boy. and I love you too."
"I am," he said, pulling back to grin at you. "But I'm your arrogant, Quidditch-obsessed boy."
Eventually, you knew you had to move, because the night couldn't last forever, but this time you risked it for the biscuit and walked down with him in the dungeons. Jimin had luckily gone somewhere, maybe also dealing with his little secret.
When morning came, Jimin's jaw practically hit the floor, his eyes darting from Jungkook's smug face to the copper hair peeking out from the duvet.
Jungkook pulled the duvet higher over the still asleep Y/n, shielding her, and looked at Jimin with a look of absolute, smug triumph. His voice was a low, morning rasp.
"Morning, Jimin. Close the door."
"Close the door? JK, you have a Ravenclaw, a Head Girl, in your bed!" He gestured wildly with one hand. "Do you have any idea what happens if a Prefect walks in? Or a professor? Or the entire school?"
Jungkook yawned lazily, not moving an inch, his arm remaining locked around you. His voice was thick and rough, devoid of any guilt.
"Then they'll know." He looked down at you, his gaze softening into something sweet, before he looked back at Jimin. "Now, I said, close the door, Jimin. Unless you want to be the one to tell the Gryffindor Golden Boy that his ex-girlfriend spent the night in the snake pit."
Jimin scoffed and left the room.
Jungkook didn't move to get up. Instead, he shifted, his chest vibrating as he chuckled. He leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice a teasing, low vibration. "Wake up, little monster. We have an audience."
Y/n groaned and buried her face deeper in his chest. "Five more minutes. Are we doomed?"
"We're not doomed," he said, his eyes soft. "We're just beginning." He leaned in and kissed you. When he pulled back, he was smiling. "Now, get dressed, Head Girl. You have a castle to run. And I have a rumor to start."
You looked at him, "What rumor?"
He grinned, "The one that says Jeon Jungkook finally got his girl."
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a/n: I hope you guys enjoyed this. i have been obsessed with H.P. and Hogwarts Legacy lately, and I couldn't bring myself to not write something, even if I'm graduating next month and my mind is everywhere ;-;
synopsis: need a shoulder to cry on or someone to get you off late at night? fear not, because boyfriend hotline is a brand new app that will match you with someone who is more than happy to fulfill any of your boyfriend-related needs.
tags: sexting, degrading kink, service provider!jk, crack kinda, goofy as shit but we ball??? idk lol
a/n: kinda did this as an excuse to make another app interface lmao. but anyways... im not sure if i love this or hate this lmao, (i think you need to be in a certain headspace to fuck with this ngl) but if u like this then pls lmk bc i might make this a mini-series !! thanks for tuning in, hope u enjoy <3
series masterlist | main masterlist
a/n: if this doesss become a mini-series, would you rather see just jungkook or a 7 part mini-series with all the members? do lmk !! tq for reading!
⤷ (edit) taglist: if you would like to be tagged for this fic, please leave a comment, reblog with a note, or send an ask with the fic name!
pairing: student! fem reader x student! jeon jungkook
summary: when you finally get your crush’s number, you expect the start of an epic love story— not a random guy making fun of you because he thinks the guy you’ve been obsessed with for the last six months gave you a fake number. Jeon Jungkook, the one who replies, finds it entertaining and helps you chase the guy… at least until he finds out that the person he’s been helping date another guy is you, the girl he’s been obsessed with for the last two years.
genre/warning: this is a smau fic!! with narration included in some chapter but it’s mostly messages/tweets. very unfunny jokes. this is mostly crack/fluff.
authors note: a lot of grammar mistakes cause i’m too lazy to edit them out>_<. a little plot twist there, next chapter the crash out of the century will arrived
chapter index | previous — next.
— chapter six: my name is jungkook
lowkey insane amount of chats. anyway the secret is out heheheh what do u think??
pairing: student! fem reader x student! jeon jungkook
summary: when you finally get your crush’s number, you expect the start of an epic love story— not a random guy making fun of you because he thinks the guy you’ve been obsessed with for the last six months gave you a fake number. Jeon Jungkook, the one who replies, finds it entertaining and helps you chase the guy… at least until he finds out that the person he’s been helping date another guy is you, the girl he’s been obsessed with for the last two years.
genre/warning: this is a smau fic!! with narration included in some chapter but it’s mostly messages/tweets. very unfunny jokes. this is mostly crack/fluff.
authors note: probably my weakest chapter guy im sorry 😔🙏🏼 my laptops screen broke so it’s pretty hard trying to edit from there. i’ll send u guys my bank acc if u wanna help me get it fixed!!<33
words count: +1k words.
chapter index | previous — next.
— chapter three: pervert freak of a man
That day the class felt like it ended way all late afternoon, slowly, reluctantly, like no one quite wanted to be the first to admit it was finally over. Chairs scraped against the floor in uneven rhythms, bags zipped and unzipped, voices rose in small clusters as people stretched, complained, laughed. The professor was still talking— something about next week’s assignment, something no one was really listening to anymore— but the room had already begun to dissolve into movement.
You didn’t move.
You stayed in your seat longer than necessary, your notebook still open in front of you, pen resting against the margin where you had stopped writing ten minutes ago. You could feel it, that nervous, buzzing pressure under your skin, like your body knew before your brain did what you were about to do.
Today, today, today…
You had said it enough times that it had lost meaning, turned into something almost sarcastic. Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow. But now there was no tomorrow left to hide behind. He was right there. Two rows ahead, slightly to the left. Packing his bag calmly, like he always did. Like a normal person, like someone whose life wasn’t about to change because of a single conversation.
You felt like such a loser it was almost too painful.
Oh, you were so that pervert freak you had as an online friend.
Just stand up.
That was step one. Nothing dramatic, no romantic speeches yet. You didn’t need to overthinking that much.
Just stand up.
You did.
Your chair made a louder noise than you intended, a sharp scrape that made your wince internally. No one really looked, but it felt like everyone did. You slipped your notebook into your bag too quickly, almost dropping it, then zipped it halfway, then all the way, then reopened it just to check something you hadn’t actually forgotten.
Stop.
People were already leaving. If you waited any longer, he’d be gone.
Chan slung his bag over his shoulder and turned slightly, saying something to the guy next to him— one of his friends, smiling, easy, relaxed. Your chest tightened.
Now.
You stepped forward.
It felt ridiculous how normal the distance was. Three steps. That was it. Three steps between doing nothing and doing something.
“Hey,” your voice came out steadier than you expected.
Chan turned. There was a split second, barely anything, but you felt it anyway. That flicker of recognition, the soft shift in his expression before it settled into something warmer.
“Hey,” he said, smiling. “Hi.”
And just like that, you didn’t die. The world didn’t end. He didn’t look confused or distant or like he had no idea who you were or the way your imagination had give you ideas of how he was probably going to spit on you and call you a stupid girl.
Great. Nice standard you had.
He looked like… Chan. The same as always. Nice. Easy. Normal, hot, cute, smart… Focus.
You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. “Hi.”
There was a small pause, not awkward exactly, but open. Waiting. You forced yourself to keep going before you could overthink it.
“So, um— this is kind of random,” you started, a quick, almost self-conscious smile, “but I think I saved your number wrong.”
Chan blinked. “My number?”
“Yeah,” you said, nodding quickly, like saying it faster would make it less embarrassing. “From the fundraiser. I texted you and… it was the wrong person. So I was like— either I imagined that entire conversation or I typed something wrong.”
For a second, he just looked at you. Then his expression shifted to surprise, then realization, and then a soft laugh.
“Oh shit— wait.” He ran a hand through his hair, thinking. “I might’ve given you the wrong one.”
You paused. “You did?”
“Yeah— yeah, actually.” He let out another small laugh, a little apologetic this time. “I changed my number like… literally two weeks ago. Me and my friend both did because we got our phones stolen in a party. I think I mixed them up because we just have one different number.” He shook his head, like he couldn’t believe it himself. “That’s on me, sorry.”
You stared at him for half a second, processing.
So he hadn’t ignored you. He hadn’t given you a fake number. He hadn’t…
“Oh,” you said, and then you laughed too, softer, lighter. “Okay. That makes me feel a lot better.”
“Yeah?” he smiled. “You thought I just ghosted you immediately?”
“I mean—” you shrugged, trying to play it off, “it wouldn’t have been my best moment.”
He huffed a quiet laugh. “No, yeah, that would’ve been kind of rude.”
“Just a little.”
There was another small pause, but this one felt different, asier and more comfortable, like something had settled into place.
Chan adjusted the strap of his bag, then nodded toward you. “You know what? I think it’s better if I save your number.”
You blinked. “Yeah, yeah, of course.”
He was asking for your number. Your number.
Holy shit.
He pulled out his phone and handed it to you. You typed a little too fast, your fingers suddenly clumsy again. Chan stepped a bit closer, not too close, but enough that you could see the details you always noticed from a distance. The way his hair fell slightly into his eyes, the faint crease at the corner when he smiled.
“There you go,” you said, handing him the phone gently to his hand. “My number.”
You watched as he typed your name, your heart beating louder again for no reason you could explain. It was such a small thing. Stupid, even. But it felt important to you.
He put his phone back to his pocket. “Saved.”.
“Thanks,” you said, weirdly. You didn’t what you were thanking him for but the word had jut left your lips like something you needed to say.
“No, thank you for actually saying something,” he replied, a small grin tugging at his lips. “Otherwise I would’ve just been waiting.”
You looked a little confused. “Waiting?”
“For your text,” he said simply, like it was obvious. Then, with a quick shrug, “But I guess now I don’t have to, so that’s good.”
It was said lightly, very casual, but it landed somewhere deeper than that for you. You felt it hit your chest before you could stop it. “Oh,” you said, softer this time.
Chan tilted his head slightly, like he was studying your reaction, but not in a way that felt uncomfortable just attentive.
“Yeah,” he added, almost teasing, “I was starting to think you changed your mind.”
“I didn’t,” you said immediately, a little too fast, then caught yourself. “I mean— I just, yeah, you know... The number thing.”
“Right,” he nodded, amused. “Blame the number.”
“Exactly.”
You two smiled.
Someone behind Chan called his name, one of his friends waving him over toward the door. He glanced back briefly, then returned his attention to you. “I should go, but—” he lifted his phone slightly, “I’ll text you.”
You nodded, trying to keep your expression normal, neutral, not insane. “Okay.”
“Okay,” he echoed, like it meant something more.
And then he was gone, pulled back into the flow of people leaving the classroom, his voice blending into the noise again, his presence dissolving into movement and distance.
You stood there for a second.
Just a second.
Then—
“Oh my god!”
It came out under your breath, barely audible, but it was there. You did it. You pressed your lips together, trying not to smile like an idiot in the middle of the classroom.
He was waiting.
What did that even mean? Nothing. It could mean nothing. It probably meant nothing. But also… He was waiting.
You grabbed your bag and practically walked out of the room on autopilot, your steps quicker than usual, lighter. Everything felt slightly off, like the world had shifted just enough to notice.
Oh, you had game.
Well… kind of…
The hallway was crowded, voices overlapping, footsteps echoing, the usual chaos of people leaving class. You barely registered any of it. Your hand was already halfway to your phone, thumb hovering over the screen to text your friend about the news. You needed to tell them. Immediately.
You turned the corner too quickly. And walked straight into someone.
“Holy shit—”
The impact wasn’t hard, just enough to knock you off balance for a second. You stumbled slightly, catching yourself as your bag slipped off your shoulder. The guy in front of you steadied you instinctively, his hand brushing your arm for a brief moment before letting go immediately like your skin had burned him.
“Sorry, I—” he stopped himself suddenly.
His voice was low, quick. Not annoyed, not particularly warm either just… flat.
You looked up. For a split second, your eyes met.
He was sharp-looking, in a way that wasn’t soft or inviting. He had piercing all over his faces, sharp jaw. Dark eyes, unreadable expression, like he had already moved on from the interaction before it finished happening. There was something about him that felt… distant. Closed off.
And then, just as quickly, he looked away. No smile, no second glance. Nothing. He stepped past you and kept walking.
You turned slightly, watching him go for half a second, your brows pulling together.
“Okay,” you muttered under your breath, adjusting your bag. “Rude.”
You shook your head and kept walking.
Whatever.
Your phone buzzed in your hand. And you froze when you saw the message.
A new message from Chan.
Your heart did something stupid. And just like that, the hallway, the guy, everything else faded out completely.
pairing: student! fem reader x student! jeon jungkook
summary: when you finally get your crush’s number, you expect the start of an epic love story— not a random guy making fun of you because he thinks the guy you’ve been obsessed with for the last six months gave you a fake number. Jeon Jungkook, the one who replies, finds it entertaining and helps you chase the guy… at least until he finds out that the person he’s been helping date another guy is you, the girl he’s been obsessed with for the last two years.
genre/warning: this is a smau fic!! with narration included in some chapter but it’s mostly messages/tweets. very unfunny jokes. this is mostly crack/fluff.
authors note: this one is purely text and tweets hehe. it has a lot of grammas mistakes i’m so sorry but if i had to edit this for the third time i will literally kms. anyway lmk what u think >_<
pairing: student! fem reader x student! jeon jungkook
summary: when you finally get your crush’s number, you expect the start of an epic love story— not a random guy making fun of you because he thinks the guy you’ve been obsessed with for the last six months gave you a fake number. Jeon Jungkook, the one who replies, finds it entertaining and helps you chase the guy… at least until he finds out that the person he’s been helping date another guy is you, the girl he’s been obsessed with for the last two years.
genre/warning: this is a smau fic!! with narration included in some chapter but it’s mostly messages/tweets. very unfunny jokes. this is mostly crack/fluff.
author’s note: ik smau is not supposed to have anything written but i did warned you that there was going to be some narration included!!!! and ik its first chapter but i couldn’t help myself 😓😓 u can still not read it if u want, u won’t be missing much (u will) (u better fucking read it u nasty ass hoes).
words count: +3k words.
chapter index | previous — next.
— chapter one: the fundraiser event
The fundraiser was loud. Music bleeding from cheap speakers, voices stacking on top of each other, the smell of sugar and alcohol and whatever food truck convinced the committee it was “for the cause.”
The quad looked nothing like it did during the week. There were fairy lights strung between trees, half-crooked banners with the charity name printed too small, and clusters of people moving from booth to booth like it was a festival and not a last-minute attempt to feel morally superior before midterms. There was a ring toss game that nobody understood, a table selling overpriced baked goods, and at least three separate places serving drinks with handwritten signs that said donation-based like that made it legal.
You were wearing the volunteer badge they gave you at the entrance, already peeling at the edges, and holding a clipboard you stopped looking at a five minutes after they gave it to you.
You were studying visual arts— cinematography, technically— but you were used to tell people “art” because it was easier and sounded cooler. Your friends were all somewhere in the same creative hell: Hobi in fashion design, Jin in film, Jimin in fine arts. You all shared studios, deadlines, and the collective understanding that none of you knew what you were doing but were doing it anyway. You also shared classes with other departments sometimes— music, sound design, performance— because the university loved a “cross-disciplinary experience.”
That’s how Chan happened.
Chan, who sat two rows ahead in your shared class, always on time, always with his notebook already open like he planned to be alive that day. Music production, composition, something annoyingly impressive. He took perfect notes, like actually perfect. Color-coded without trying too hard, handwriting that looked like a font you’d pay for. He laughed quietly but fully, like he meant it, and when professors made bad jokes he would still smiled because he was polite like that. He held doors. He said thank you to the barista and meant it. He once helped you pick up your pencils when they fell out of your bag and apologized like he dropped them. He was just nice in general. You liked that.
It had been months and you two had barely talked, just a few group projects, a couple of exchanged smiles, one conversation about an assignment that you replayed in your head for a week straight… but he was been living rent free in your brain ever since.
Chan, the perfect man.
And Chan, who wasn’t there.
The problem wasn’t that he didn’t say he’d come. The problem was that he said he would, and now it’s been over an five hours since the event started and you hadn’t see him anywhere.
The fundraiser had shifted into its late-night version of itself. Careless, less perfect. The part where the initial excitement has worn off and people stopped pretending they were there purely out of goodwill. Now they were just for the drinks.
The games were still running, but half-heartedly now. The ring toss booth was unattended, prizes picked clean except for a sad plush bear leaning sideways against a pole. Music hummed from the speakers, lower and more bass-heavy than earlier, the kind of playlist that assumed everyone’s already a little drunk. Fairy lights glowed softer as the sky turned properly dark, the quad illuminated in patches rather than fully lit.
And you were still there. Still wearing the volunteer badge. Still pretending you were doing something important while scanning every moving head like a surveillance camera.
Nothing.
By the time your friends started arriving, it was already late enough that the air felt cooler and the event felt looser.
Hobi appeared beside you with a drink already in hand, like he manifested it out of thin air, scanning the place slowly. “Wow,” he said, looking at your grimace. “Tragic times?.”
You crossed your arms and didn’t even look at him. “Go away.”
“Aw,” Hobi pouted. “What happened, babygirl? Talk to me.”
“Get lost.”
“Your boyfriend didn’t come, did he?.” He sighed, like he was disappointed too. “Come one, let’s get you something to drink.”
“I finish in an hour.”
“And?” He squinted at your badge. “Are you done pretending to be in charge or can I start acting out?.”
“I’m literally hosting.”
“Hosting what,” Jimin said, arriving just in time to be annoying. “A poor embarrassing moment?”
You exhaled through your nose. “I’ve been raising money. Doing charity”
“For who,” Jimin said, looking around. “I’ve been drinking in that booth looking at you for ten minutes and you were just on your phone the whole time.”
Hobi snorted. “Have you actually collected money or is this for show?” he took your paperclip to see the people who had donated. “Oh, okay. Impressive.”
Jin joined last, clapping once like he was calling a meeting. “Okay. I’m here. Where is that guy?.”
You rolled your eyes, “he’s not here yet.”
They all turn to you slowly.
Jin tilted his head. “Oh, you poor thing.”
Jimin’s smile spread like he’s been waiting for this moment. “Babe, he’s definitely not coming.”
Hobi squinted. “That’s sad.”
“He’s coming,” you said immediately. “I trust my man. He must be on his way.”
“It’s almost midnight,” Jimin raised an eyebrow. “Is he traveling from another continent.”
“He probably got busy.”
“With what,” Jin asked. “Okay, I gotta be honest. I’ve never seen this man. Are we sure he’s real?. I’m actually worried.”
“He has to be fictional,” Jimin nodded in agreement.
You glared at them. “He looks fictional. He’s too perfect.”
“I know almost everyone on campus,” the older shrugged. “I’m sure he’s fictional.”
“He’s not,” you snapped. “You’ll met him and see. We literally talked yesterday.”
“Wow, I’m shocked. You talked?”
“Well… I asked out loud how was coming and he said he was— So, yeah. You can say we talked.” You pressed your lips together and nodded. “Same, same.”
“Wow,” Hobi said. “You’re basically married.”
You ignored them, eyes scanning the crowd again and again.
Jimin followed your gaze. “You’ve been looking at the entrance like a pedophile waiting for the school to finish.”
“I’m not… I’m trying to get more people to donate.” You lied unconvincingly.
“Yeah, right.”
“Shut up, I know he’s coming. He said it.”
“And I said I’d go to the gym,” Jin put a hand on your shoulder. “We all lie.”
You pushed off. “That’s different.”
“How,” he asked. “Explain.”
You opened your mouth, then closed it. “Because that’s my future husband. He’s… nice.”
Jimin gasped dramatically. “What? NOT NICE. That’s a dream.”
“You’re pissing me off,” you warned.
“He’s perfect because he’s nice?” Hobi asked incredulously.
“He takes perfect notes—” You started adding.
“You’re already pregnant.”
“—He’s polite,” you continued. “He opens doors.”
Jimin shook his head. “Amazing.”
“I saw him help someone carry equipment once, like without being asked.”
Hoseok pressed a hand to his chest. “That’s so husband material.”
“We should give him a nobel prize already. That’s a perfect man.”
“It is,” you said, staring at him ugly. “You’re just jealous.”
“Of what,” he laughed. “Your imaginary situationship with a fictional man.”
They pushed you to the nearest booth where they sell drinks, hovering near one of the drink tables that they had put in the garden, not so far away from the counter. Jimin handed you a cup without asking.
“Drink,” he ordered. “You’re unbearable sober.”
You took it. “Just one.”
“That’s what addicts say,” Jin muttered.
“Yeah, you all would know.”
The four of you started arguing.
Discussing getting louder over the table before settling into talking shit, about classes, about professors, about some guy Jin hated for no reason. You kept glancing around time to time, pretending not to care, pretending you were not building an entire life in your head where Chan showed up charmingly and was the one to asked you for your number before asking you on a date.
“Stop looking at the entrance. You’re not only embarrassing yourself, now is getting sad.” Jimin called you out.
You glared at him. “He’s coming.”
Hobi looked at you. “Based on what evidence.”
“Our soul-connection.”
Jin squinted at you. “Did you take your medication today?.”
“I know the love of my life wouldn’t miss this,” you insisted. “He knows I’m hosting.”
“He doesn’t know you like that,” the younger made a disgusting face.
“Yet,” you said confidently.
They groaned.
By the time you finished your drink, the event had slowed to a crawl. Volunteers were packing things up. The music was louder now, like it was compensating. Probably the DJ were going to do a small party there for people who wanted to drink and dance now that it was midnight and it was weekend.
You straightened suddenly. “I’m getting another drink.”
Jimin pointed at you. “Yes, get drunk and let’s hit a house party.”
Hobi nodded. “Get me another vodka lemonade, pretty please.”
“I still want to hit that target shooting boot before they close everything.” You pointed at them, already walking away.
“Well, hurry up then.”
You weaved through the remaining crowd at the open drinking booth, the ground uneven beneath your feet, until you reached the counter drink table. You asked for a shot that you took immediately to get it going and two vodka lemonade so you could go back to the table your friends were.
You were waiting for the drinks when someone bumped into your shoulder.
“Sorry, I— Oh, hey.”
You looked up and blinked. “Yoongi?”
He grinned, already halfway into a hug. “No way. You’re the one running this?” He asked, pointing at your badge still holding on for dear life.
“Running is generous. I volunteered.”
He chuckled. Yoongi was always easily to talked to. He was studying music production, always dressed like he might disappear into his room to take a nap at any moment.
You two worked together once, months ago, when he needed someone to design a set for a video project and you happened to be available. Since then, you’ve crossed paths enough to count as acquaintances. Coffee once, a couple of shared complaints about deadlines, nothing serious.
“This is actually sick,” he said, gesturing around. “Way bigger than I thought.”
“Yeah, people really liked this things,” you nodded, grabbing your drinks. “And also this improvised after party. Anyway, How’ve you been?”
“Busy. Tired. You know, same as always.” He glanced at your drink. “Celebratory?”
“Coping.”
He nodded. “Valid. How long have you been here?”
“Since morning,” you took a sip. “They got me asking for money for eight hours straight.”
“You did well?.”
“Enough for broken students,” you shrugged.
Yoongi smiled. “I gotta be honest, never considered you someone to volunteered for this type of things.”
“Yeah, me neither.” You did it for courage to asked for a guy’s number. Wow, maybe you were evil. “Guess guilty has been catching me up lately. I wasn’t the nicest in high school.”
“I believe that,” he chuckled. “By the way, are you still in that general knowledge in Art course? I heard the guys who was doing the class got arrested?”
“Oh my god, you didn’t know?. They shut it down because he was sleeping with that girl who use to talk about Beyoncé all the time—”
You two chat for a few minutes, easy and familiar. Catching up with some gossips about some class you shared and other things you had in common. He told you about a project he was drowning in. You complained about a new class you had to take for extra credit. It was comfortable, no pressure, no spiralling thoughts.
At one point, Yoongi checked his phone and groaned like an old man.
“My friend are looking for me,” he said. “I gotta go before they start something stupid.”
“Well, good luck with that.” You smiled at him.
He shook his head before giving you a hug. “See you around.”
You watched him disappear back into the crowd, feeling oddly lighter and more tipsy than before. It was always nice chatting with someone normal.
You decided to go back to your friends but before you could start your way to them a hand landed on your shoulder. Not rough, not startling, just enough pressure to made you turn.
“Hey,” a voice said, close enough that you heard it clearly despite the music. “Great event.”
You froze for half a second before you turned around, already knowing.
It was Chan.
Up close, he looked unreal in the most irritating way. His hair was slightly messed up like he had been running his hands through it all night, sleeves pushed up to his elbows, posture relaxed like he didn’t just derail your entire brain chemistry by existing within arm’s reach.
“Oh,” you said. “Thanks.”
It came out softer than you meant to. A fake sweet voice that wasn’t yours at all. You cleared your throat trying to compose yourself.
“I mean it,” he said quickly, like he was worried you’ll brush it off. “It’s actually really nice. Everyone’s in a good mood. It doesn’t feel… forced.”
You laughed. “You should’ve seen it earlier. People were feral.”
“I believe that,” he said. “I missed most of it, though. Sorry about that.”
“It’s fine,” you said immediately, then realized how fast you answered and added, “I mean— people come and go. It’s a whole thing. The important thing here are the children.”
He nodded, hands tucked into his pockets, eyes flicking around before settling back on you. “Still. You’ve been here all night?”
“Since this morning,” you said. “I don’t remember my life before this event.”
He smiled at that, small and genuine. “You don’t look tired.”
“That’s because I’ve passed the point of exhaustion,” you said. “I’m running on vibes and now alcohol.”
Chan laughed, a real one, head tilting back slightly. “That explains a lot, actually.”
“Like what.”
“Like why you seem weirdly calm about everything.”
“Well it’s not like I did much work, to be honest.” You shrugged. “And I usually panic internally. I just don’t advertise.”
“Respect,” he said. “I panic externally.”
You grinned. “I’ve noticed.”
You two stand there for a moment, the music shifting to something louder, people brushing past you two. He stepped a little closer so he didn’t have to raise his voice, and the space between you two felt suddenly intentional.
“So,” he said, “how’s your semester been?”
You made a face, “horrible.”
He laughed again. “Yeah, same. That class we share is actually trying to kill me.”
“Ms. Kim is always criticizing everything.” You rolled your eyes..
“Yes,” he agreed immediately. “Why is he like that?.”
“I don’t know,” you said. “I leave every session feeling personally attacked.”
“At least your projects look good,” he said. “Yours always feel… finished.”
You blinked, it was a compliment. Chan was complimenting your work. “You think?”
“Yeah,” he said, like it’s obvious. “You have a good eye. Everything you do feels very intentional.”
Your chest did something stupid.
“Thanks,” you said, suddenly aware of your soft tone. “Your stuff’s really good too.”
Chan shrugged, a little bashful now. “I just mess around until I get it right.”
“That’s not true,” you shook your head. “You’re annoying about it. You’re always prepared for everything.”
He laughed. “Okay, maybe a little.”
You two fell into an easy rhythm, talking about classes, about deadlines, about how the building was always freezing no matter the season. He listened when you talked, the way you liked to be listened— nodding, reacting, asking follow-up questions like he actually cared what you were saying.
It felt like the first real conversation you were having with him. Your heart was beating so fast and your palms were sweating but in a good way.
You decided to order another two drinks after finishing yours and Hoseok’s very fast. He glanced at that. “Celebrating?”
“Recovering,” you said. “You want one?”
“I probably shouldn’t,” he said, then thought again. “Actually— yeah. Just one.”
You gestured toward the bartender and he took his order. Same as yours, vodka lemonade.
He got closer, shoulder brushing shoulder. You grab his drink and handed him the cup with the excuse that the bartender left it too far for him. Your fingers touching briefly, electricity shooting straight up your arm like your body was being dramatic on purpose.
“This is dangerous,” Chan said after a sip. “I’m a lightweight.”
“Good,” You replied. “So am I.”
He smiled at you in a way that felt… different. Slower. Like he was thinking. You felt like you knew all his smiles by watching him for so long, and that one felt very intentional.
“This really suits you,” he said suddenly.
You frowned. “What does.”
“All of this,” he said, gesturing vaguely. “Organizing, hosting, you look like the kind of girl who helps.”
You laughed. Because it felt like a good compliment. But it just wasn’t true, at all. You cared, of course, but you didn’t like doing the job at all, a lot less since today.
But he didn’t need to know that.
“I like to. But I’m not in charge of this at all, I just barely participated”
“I don’t know,” he said. “You seem like you know what you’re doing.”
You looked at him for a second too long. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me then.”
His eyebrows lift slightly, interest clearly piqued. His voice was now deeper. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Maybe I’ll learn.”
The words settled between you two, heavy in the best way.
Your heart started beating so loud you were convinced he could hear it. You were already feeling dizzy, overwhelmed and slightly drunk.
Now or never, you thought.
“Hey,” you said, pulling your phone out before you could overthink it. “Can I get your number?”
He didn’t hesitate. Not even a second. You liked that, made you want to kiss him.
“Yeah,” he said, already leaning in. “Of course.”
You typed fast, thumbs clumsy, music too loud, the night spinning slightly. He watched you type your phone fast, close enough that you could feel the warmth of him, nodded when you said his name again as a joke to save his number.
“There,” you said, trying to sound normal.
He smiled. “You better text me.”
Before you could respond, a group of his friends appeared, calling his name, already halfway into chaos, maybe even drunk.
“We’re starting the game!” one of them said.
Chan looked back at you, apologetic but smiling. “I’ll catch you later?”
“Yeah,” you said. “Go.”
He hesitated for half a second longer, then let himself be pulled away, glancing back once before disappearing into the crowd.
You stood there, staring at the spot he was standing in like you were just imagining what had happened. Your heart beating fast, your palms sweating. You wanted to jump out of happiness and proudly. You turned around, founding your friends who were watching you already. All of them. Hobi’s mouth was open. Jin was shaking his head like he didn’t believe your crush was actually a real person. Jimin looked proud and disgusted at the same time.
You lifted your hands and showed them your middle fingers. They cheered.
gay means happy💜
ik this is too soon but this smau shit is so fun!!!
what happens when satoru gojo, age 8, discovers affection in the most annoying form possible?
a/n: satoru gojo was born the strongest but also the most emotionally constipated. this is what happens when an eight-year-old demigod gets hit with a fever and accidentally manifests a clingy, semi-feral bestie with the spiritual energy of a raccoon and the vocabulary of a broken answering machine. if you think about it, this is basically one-sided imprinting. twilight wishes.
anyway. you are soulmates now. he can’t return you. there’s no receipt.
the fever had lasted for days.
your body, or what would eventually become your body, didn’t exist yet when it started. when the boy with the six eyes lay burning and thrashing in a silken futon soaked through with sweat, whispering things no one could understand. he was eight. too small for that much cursed energy. too divine for the fragile vessel he lived in.
the gojo clan elders panicked. the medics couldn’t touch him. no barrier could stabilize him. and so, desperate, they turned to a half-forgotten ritual. the theory was simple enough: take the excess cursed energy he couldn’t contain and make it take shape. mold it into a vessel.
something that could carry the weight.
what they expected was a tool. a familiar. a shikigami to leech off the pressure.
what they got was... you.
not quite a doll. not quite a beast. pale and blinking, limbs shaking like a newborn deer. your skin shimmered faintly under moonlight, like dew on porcelain. two eyes that opened slow and unblinking, and a voice that came out in cracked syllables and broken sounds. you fell into the world with a gasp, like you’d been holding your breath for a thousand years.
and the boy—the one they called satoru—woke up.
his fever broke that night.
you didn’t know any of this, of course. you didn’t know your purpose, or why people stared at you like you shouldn’t exist. you only knew one thing:
he was warm.
so you followed him.
at first, satoru tried to ignore you. he walked faster. you ran after him like your joints were made of pudding, arms flapping, hair sticking up in tufts like static cling. your little feet slapped against polished wood as you tumbled through paper doors left ajar. you mimicked whatever you heard, a walking echo of servant chatter and household scolding.
he ducked through sliding doors; you smacked into them face-first with a dramatic thud, then clawed them open with stubby fingers and a war cry that sounded suspiciously like “no touching young master table yes!”
he once tried to hide behind a folding screen. you climbed onto a lacquered table, knocked over a bonsai tree, squatted there like a gremlin, and chirped “young master?” until a maid screamed and dropped a tray of tea with a shatter.
he told a servant to get rid of you. you reappeared at dinner an hour later with a leaf on your head, mud on your knees, and a fistful of vaguely rice-shaped pebbles you thought were food. you plopped down beside him, beaming like you'd just won a prize.
in one particularly dramatic escape attempt, he climbed halfway up a cherry tree, disappearing into the blossoms like a sulky cat. half-hidden among the pink petals, he peeked down, eyes narrowed. you stood at the base of the tree with a delighted gasp.
“go!” you chirped. “go—ru!”
he scowled. his pale hair, disheveled from the climb, was caught in the breeze, framing his flushed face like a wilting halo. “that’s not even my name.”
you pointed up at him again, nose scrunching with joy. “go!”
his jaw twitched. “you’re the worst little—” he stopped himself and clicked his tongue. “ugh.”
maybe you were.
you couldn’t talk well yet, just repeated whatever you overheard. “young master,” “this way,” “no touching that,” “off the table”—you strung them together like talismans, proud and fearless, like a goblin parrot in training. once, you ran after him yelling, “no touching young master table yes off!” until he turned with the most baffled expression, like you'd just spoken in tongues.
he started throwing off your trail. dashing around corners. hiding behind fusuma doors. pretending to tie his shoes, then bolting like the wind the second you blinked.
and you? you escalated.
you started crawling under tables, squeezing through servant hallways, perching atop window sills like an owl. you once disguised yourself as a folded futon and waited in his room for two hours until he stepped inside, sighed, and said, “absolutely not,” before turning around and leaving again.
when he looked annoyed, you giggled like it was the funniest thing in the world.
one afternoon, while he was mid-sulk beside a courtyard pond, you tiptoed close and stared. he pointedly ignored you.
“stop looking at me like that,” he muttered after a long pause, glancing sideways beneath thick lashes. he fiddled with the sleeve of his haori, brows knit tight.
you beamed wider. then reached out and poked his cheek.
“why frown?”
his breath caught. he flinched back so quickly it startled a nearby koi fish.
his cursed energy snapped to life—just a flicker, a breath—and suddenly your finger hit resistance. it hovered in midair, like touching a sheet of ice. your brows lifted. confused, you leaned in again, finger outstretched like a curious child.
still nothing. a perfect, invisible wall.
he was using infinity.
your bottom lip trembled. “meanie,” you mumbled, eyes big and glassy. your arms drooped. you stared up at him, unmoving.
and stared.
and stared.
he twitched. his shoulders hunched tighter. “you’re not gonna cry, are you? seriously?”
you didn’t answer. just kept staring. one foot shuffled in the dirt. a single leaf fluttered past between you.
he squirmed. “ugh, fine!” the infinity dropped like a curtain. “there. happy now?”
instantly, you lit up and poked his cheek again. “no frown!”
he jolted. “gah—!” then scowled, swatting your hand away like it burned. “what is wrong with you?”
but his voice cracked slightly at the end.
he tried to eat faster after that, hunching over his tray like a raccoon, scarfing down his meals before you could sit beside him. you followed anyway, hopping into the seat with a bright grin, swinging your legs like a clock pendulum. sometimes you tried to feed him from your own chopsticks. once, you pressed a dumpling into his cheek and declared, “for go!”
he sputtered. “do i look like a baby bird to you?!”
the servants whispered every time you passed. “it looks too human.” “should we seal it?” “it doesn’t even understand commands.”
you never paid them any mind. you only listened to him.
you curled up outside his room like a stray cat, snoring softly beneath the paper screen. you crawled into his futon without asking, worming beneath the covers like a cold octopus, limbs flopping all over him. you tapped your head against his shoulder when you wanted attention, tugged at his sleeve when he ignored you. when he glared, you tilted your head like a confused owl and poked his cheek again.
“why frown?”
he groaned into his pillow.
and then the strangest thing happened.
one day, he let you sit beside him without protest.
another day, he saved a bit of sweet mochi, eyes flicking to you before silently placing it in your hands, face turned away.
and then one day, you flopped into his lap upside down like a sack of vegetables, legs dangling off the side. he gave an exhausted sigh and muttered, “you’re such a weirdo.”
you blinked up at him, crumbs in your lashes, nose scrunched in thought.
he didn’t call you weirdo again. he called you something else.
and you smiled like you understood everything in the world.
tropes: idol!jungkook, angst, childhood friends, exes to lovers?, smut
rating: 18+
warnings: protected sex, making out, groping, fingering, jk is saur in love <3, oc is an overthinker, they're v needy, he loves watching her cum <3, giggly kisses, jk wants to hit it raw so bad 👉🏼👈🏼, one (1) boob squeeze i think, oc scratches his back 🤭
summary: jungkook is tipsy as he wanders the streets of seoul, and still, you're all he can think about.
a/n: it's bestie jk's bday!!! so here's a little fic n i swear i was gonna post smth fluffy but...here we are!!!!! sorry not sorry </3 love u
⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒
“I need you.”
“What?”
“I miss you so bad.”
“Are you drunk?”
“I love you. So much. It kinda hurts.”
“Jungkook.”
Silence. Except for the faint noises of cars passing by.
You hear a little sigh. “Missed hearing you say my name.”
Your fingers clasp tighter around your phone. “Why’d you call?” It’s 2 a. m., and the only reason you answered is because you were worried. This is the first time he’s called since the breakup.
“Just ‘cause,” he mumbles. You can hear the pout he’s speaking with. “We have a one week break from tour and I came back to Korea. Missed home and Mum, and you.”
“You’re in Busan, then?”
“Seoul.”
He’s here. So close.
You shake your head. Take a steady breath to calm your giddy heart. You shouldn’t care.
“Was at my parents’ for two...three days.” After a short pause, he continues, “Been wanting to talk to you all day long, but I didn’t have enough courage.”
“I mean...” You slump back against the couch, your head falling back. “There isn’t anything for us to talk about.”
“No?” he asks, confused. “I’ve got so much to say, though.”
“I meant, like, we shouldn’t be talking. At all. ‘Cause we’re – we’re done.” You thought you were. You thought you made it clear when you broke up with him.
“Haven’t you missed me at all?” He sounds both accusing and sad, and you think your heart breaks a little. “I think about you constantly,” Jungkook whispers, his confession carrying a soft hopelessness through the phone.
You sit up straight. “How much did you drink?”
“Hmm, not much,” he answers. “I’m not drunk!” he quickly adds. “Just needed some alcohol to have enough courage to call you.”
“You drank because of me?”
“You’ve never done this?”
“I’d like to say it wasn’t because of you.”
“So... you’ve been thinking about me too?” he asks tentatively.
You close your eyes. “Is this a conversation we should be having?”
Jungkook heaves a defeated sigh. With your eyes closed, you can almost picture him standing outside, the chill of the night air mixing with his feelings of loneliness. Maybe he’s pacing, or just staring into the distance, eyes weary with a faint trace of frustration mixed with vulnerability etched on his face.
“You can hang up if you want. I just hoped we could talk a bit. I’ve been – I’ve been feeling lonely and a little sad, and I couldn’t get you out of my head,” he babbles. “I’m sorry if you don’t wanna talk.”
You wish you could be cruel – could be a cynic and just hang up. But you can’t. He is tipsy and emotional, and you still love him too much.
“No, it’s fine.” If only he knew how much you’ve been wanting to hear his voice again. “I didn’t expect a call like this tonight, that’s all,” you add, pulling your legs up to your chest. “Are you on your way home?”
“Yeah. I’ll be there soon.”
“You have the dorm all to yourself?”
“The dorm? Ah, yes, I was the only one to fly back to Korea. The others stayed in the US.”
You hug your knees with one arm.
“Why are you still up so late?” Jungkook asks, as if he isn’t the one roaming around, tipsy and a bit of a heartbroken mess, in the city in the middle of the night. He does all that and yet worries about you.
“I was just eating.” Your eyes drift to the remnants of food in front of you. “And watching a drama.” The big screen is on mute. You hurriedly searched for the remote to turn off the sound once you saw the caller’s name.
“With your mum?”
“No, she’s at the studio. I think she’s finishing up some songs,” you say. Your mum left sometime in the evening, saying she’d had a sudden spark of inspiration and needed to go to the company. You bet she won’t come home until 4 a.m. “I couldn’t sleep and was craving some tteokbokki, so...”
“From the restaurant at Gangnam?”
A soft, hesitant smile blossoms on your face. “They make it the most delicious.”
He mutters a wistful sound. “I haven’t had it in so long.”
Your fingertips gently tap against your knees in a slow rhythm. “You should definitely have it before you leave again.”
“With you?” Just two words and yet they’re filled with so much innocent hope.
Your fingers halt.
“Oh?”
“Would you not want to see me?”
“I’m not sure if we should.”
“But do you want to?” He’s met with silence from your side. “You were one of the reasons I really wanted to come back to Korea.”
“But what if I don’t want to meet up?”
“Then don’t open the door.”
“I don’t...What door?”
“Your door,” he answers conversationally.
You hurriedly scramble to your feet and walk to the door. “You’re here?” The screen on the intercom shows Jungkook, holding up his phone against his ear and patiently waiting.
“You watching me?” Jungkook teases, playfully cocking his head to the side as he stares directly into the camera.
“Oh.” You take shy step back. Blood rushes to your cheeks.
“Open the door for me? Please?”
You don’t think it’s a good idea to let Jungkook in. But his doe eyes. His pleading doe eyes. They do it for you.
You buzz him in and, while you wait for him, you try to calm your racing heart.
When the elevator doors open and Jungkook steps out, you’re struck by the sight of him after months apart. You take in every detail: his tousled hair, his tired but still striking eyes, the way the light catches the contours of his face. He looks so handsome, so achingly familiar. You’re drinking him in with your eyes, unable to believe he’s actually here.
“I thought you were heading to the dorm,” you say as Jungkook steps out of the elevator.
“I didn’t say that.” A pout graces his face.
He said he was heading home.
“I missed you,” Jungkook says, and suddenly you become awfully aware of the situation unfolding before you. You have to blink twice to make sure you’re not just picturing a hologram of Jungkook in your apartment. This time, he is real. Not a figment of your imagination.
“Me too,” you admit with a heavy heart.
A lopsided, sorrowful grin appears on his mouth. “Can’t bring yourself to say it back?”
“Jungkook, you-” You shake your head, sighing as your scramble for words. “You shouldn’t even be here.”
It’s the middle of the night, and upon answering a call from Jungkook, he stands right in front of you – just like in the dreams you secretly have at night when you’re feeling lonely again. It shouldn’t be this easy. It really shouldn’t be this easy for him to say these things and fall back into a natural pattern with you when you’ve been crying yourself to sleep at night, wishing your love for him would die.
And yet, here you are, with dangerous words at the tip of your tongue, barely resisting the intense urge of your heart to scream how much it has been wanting him back.
“But let’s not – let's not just stand here.” You point to the slippers next to him. “Take off your shoes and I’ll...I dunno, put on a movie?” You go back into the living room as Jungkook hangs up his coat and follows you.
“Oh, that looks delicious,” Jungkook exclaims when he spots the leftover tteokbokki on the coffee table.
“I can heat it up for you, if you want,” you offer. Judging by the way his tongue wets his bottom lip, it’s clear he’d appreciate that.
Jungkook trails behind you into the kitchen.
“So, watchu been up to?” He leans his forearms on the counter, watching you from across the island as you put the tteokbokki into the microwave.
He’s been in this kitchen countless times before. He’s made you tea when you were sick, prepared hot chocolate when you needed comfort, and knew exactly where to find the snack stash for movie nights. He’s even prepared breakfast for you and your mum on some mornings. But tonight, he can’t shake the feeling of being a stranger here. The memories of those moments feel distant, like a blurry movie he watched when he was too young to fully remember, leaving him with only a vague sense of familiarity.
“Just, you know, studying, working. The usual.” You turn to him, mimicking his position on the other side of the counter.
“So much on your plate that you couldn’t reply to my messages?”
His gaze is intense and shameless, and you look away.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea to reply to messages sent by your ex.” You turn around, leaning your back against the counter. “What am I supposed to text back when you tell me that you miss me?”
“Hey, just last week I asked how you were doing. You could’ve replied to that one.” You can sense the sulkiness in his voice, mingled with a touch of light-heartedness, but you don’t turn to face him.
Jungkook closes the distance between you.
“You don’t want me in your life anymore? Like, at all?”
Your engulfed by his scent as he stands next to you, struggling to form a proper answer as you hesitantly peer into his face.
The microwave dings, and you breathe again.
“When was the last time you had this?” You place the plate in front of him and hand him the chopsticks.
“It’s been a few months. Before the tour started, I was dieting, so, maybe 5 months?” Jungkook doesn’t notice the roll of your eyes when he mentions dieting, his attention focused on the hot tteokbokki between his chopsticks. “Mhmmm.” He closes his eyes tightly, tipping his head back as he tastes the food on his tongue. “So good.”
“Feels good to have a bit of home again before you leave?”
Jungkook nods vigorously, his eyebrows scrunched up as he eats more.
You find yourself smiling, only realising it when Jungkook mirrors your grin. A giddy thrill and a soft ache twist together inside you like a secret exposed to the light. Unable to bear the eye contact, you look away, hiding your smile by biting your bottom lip.
You notice Jungkook offering you a piece of tteokbokki in your peripheral vision. “No, thanks. I’m really full. I had a lot.” You rub your belly.
“You always used to steal bites of mine, even when you were full.”
“I used to steal your dessert. Not dinner,” you correct him. “I can never have enough dessert.” You can’t help the small laugh that escapes you. “But that was when things were... different.”
Jungkook’s playful expression fades slightly. He chews slowly, contemplating your words. “Does it have to be that different?”
A delicate confession that hangs heavily in the air.
The warmth in your chest tightens, and you’re reminded again. Reminded of the reality you’ve both been trying to avoid – more so you than Jungkook.
“Maybe it does,” you reply, giving him a small, almost imperceptible nod. “Things change, people change.”
The weight of your words settles over both of you like a cold shadow.
Jungkook’s eyes search yours, as if trying to find a crack in the wall you’ve put up. “But what if some things don’t have to change? What if...some things are worth holding on to?”
So much longing and regret in his words, his eyes, his heart – he is blue everywhere.
“It’s not that simple, Jungkook.” The ache in your voice betrays the calm you’re trying to maintain. “We can’t just go back to how things were.”
He steps closer, and his familiar scent surrounds you again, making it so hard to act rationally when so many past memories swirl in your mind.
“I know we can’t go back. But I don’t want to lose you completely. Can’t we find a way to be something else? Something that works?”
The idea of keeping him in your life, even in a different way, tugs at you, but you know the danger in that. You know how easily the lines could blur again, how much harder it would be to protect your heart.
That reminds you, there are still pieces of Jungkook left in your room; t-shirts and sweatshirts scattered in your wardrobe.
Taking a deep breath, you push off the counter. “Before I forget, there are still some of your things in my bedroom.”
You catch the sudden confusion in Jungkook’s eyes, but you don’t let it deter you as you pad into your room.
“It’s just a few of your shirts. I’ve been meaning to give them back to you, but uh, I wasn’t sure how to approach you because I didn’t want to contact you, but anyways.” You grab the neatly folded pile of clothes from the back of your wardrobe. “Now you’re here, so.” You hold the pile out to him.
He regards his forgotten clothes with a slight raise of his brow. His hands don’t move to take them.
“They’re old anyway,” he says. “I don’t need them. Just throw them out.”
You hesitate, holding the pile tightly.
You won’t throw them out. He knows that too.
“Fine,” you shrug nonchalantly, storing his clothes back into your wardrobe. They sit there, a constant reminder that he still has a place in your life, even when he shouldn’t. Haunting every little corner that still belongs to him. But you’re just as guilty, allowing him to do so.
When you turn around again, you see the loaded expression on his face, and your immediate response is to ignore it – redirect his attention before he starts digging up old feelings, past memories, and forgotten promises that will only make you doubt the walls you’ve tried to put between you.
“I think you still have some tteokbokki left-”
“___.” Jungkook interrupts you, grabbing your hand. You feel the warmth of his skin, and you’re mortified and comforted at the same time. “I thought we would always speak comfortably with each other. No hiding, no walls – just the truth.”
“That was before the breakup,” you counter, barely able to hold his gaze. “There is no we anymore.”
“How can you say that when our whole lives have been intertwined? We can’t just pretend it all meant nothing, erase everything.”
“Being with me is an inconvenience for you, Jungkook.”
“Is that why you broke up?”
Ah, right. You never told him the real reason.
The night when you broke up with Jungkook was a bit chaotic.
You hadn’t planned on ending the relationship. Threads of worry had plagued you for some time, and you had been considering breaking up with him, but you never had the courage. You loved him, still do. And losing the one person you’ve trusted since childhood was terrifying.
But that night, while waiting for Jungkook at your favourite convenience store, you grew impatient. Waited for so long that you started eating ramyeon without him. As you sat by the window, gazing at the night sky, you decided that tonight you would break up.
Jungkook had always been busy, and you never minded it. Didn’t even mind it as you were eating ramyeon while pondering how to tell Jungkook. But Jungkook had so many things on his plate, so many worries, and you didn’t want to make his life more complicated by being his girlfriend. He tried so hard to always respond to your texts, tried to call at reasonable times instead of the middle of the night after practise, and promised to meet you at times other than when the sun had long fallen.
Jungkook needed to prioritise things that were more important to him.
And knowing his selfish tendencies, you needed to help him a little.
“Part of it, yeah,” you answer.
Jungkook doesn’t hesitate when he says, “You’re worth the inconvenience.”
You think he holds your hand a little tighter, but maybe you imagined it.
“I’ve never loved anyone as much as I love you, and that night, I – I didn’t know if I would ever feel okay again.”
Jungkook was so used to you giving in. Was so selfishly used to having you whenever he wanted, that once you finally pulled away, his world had lost its gravitational pull. Suddenly, he was left adrift, circling aimlessly like a planet that had lost its orbit.
“I still don’t know. I miss you every night and keep wondering how to move on, but I’m not sure if that will ever happen. How do you move on from a love like ours?”
He’s known you for almost his entire life, and having you completely erased from his life felt like something he could never get over. Jungkook went a little insane. Everyone around him noticed his change in behaviour, but he pretended to be clueless, perhaps as a foolish act of hoping that you might return, change your mind, want him again, and never leave. It’s the hopeless romantic in Jungkook that makes him cling to shreds of hope for a better ending – a happy ending.
And maybe it’s not so hopeless after all, he thinks, as he watches your eyes sparkle with gentle love when you meet his gaze.
“Have you never thought about calling me?” he asks. “Never wanted to text back?”
“I almost do every night.”
“What makes you hesitate?” Jungkook steps closer, and it’s so dangerous, but you can’t keep pretending you don’t want him.
Which is why you whisper your next words, staring down at the small space retaining between your bodies.
“Because I know that I’d forgive and not fight.” You want to force your eyes back to him, but can’t. “It’s not like I wanted to break up. I just did it because I thought it was the wisest decision for us.”
“___.” It’s just a soft murmur of your name, slipping off his tongue with more love than it should, and it sends your heart fluttering far too easily. His voice draws your gaze up to him, and you’re met with eyes brimming with pure yearning and raw adoration. You never forgot how he looked at you, but you did underestimate the intense pull of his gaze – how it stirs something deep within you, even now.
“I thought it was for the better, but...” You trail off, lost in his eyes, forgetting what you were trying to explain and deny. Because what does it matter? How does anything matter when he’s here – when he’s here and not a single bit of his love for you has wavered?
Jungkook cups your cheek with his free hand. It pulls you closer to him. His thumb brushes gently across your skin, and the world outside of this moment blurs into insignificance.
You can feel your resolve crumbling, the walls you’ve built around your heart starting to fracture. It’s terrifying and comforting all at once, the way he’s always had this power over you – the way he can unravel you with just a look, a touch, a simple word.
“I don’t want to let you go,” Jungkook says, his voice tight with emotion. His hand remains on your cheek, as if he’s afraid you’ll slip away if he lets go.
“Neither do I,” you confess, barely believing your own words. But voicing it out loud seems to untangle something within you that had been knotted and confused for so long.
Jungkook’s eyes search yours, making sure he heard you right, that this moment is real and not just another dream he’s afraid of waking up from. His thumb stills on your cheek, and you can feel the warmth of his palm spreading across your skin, grounding you, anchoring you.
“Is this okay?” He leans in the slightest bit.
You nod, muttering a small “Yeah” as your gaze lingers on his sparkling eyes, the soft curve of his nose, the tiny mole beneath his lip – everything that reminds you of longing, comfort and the feeling of home.
The moment his mouth presses against yours, you feel a surge of warmth. It’s tender and soft, his mouth brushing against yours with a mix of hesitance and longing. As the kiss deepens it becomes more fervent, more urgent, as if he’s trying to convey everything he’s been holding back.
Your lips move with a slow, deliberate rhythm, and the touch of his tongue sends shivers down your spine. There’s a slight pressure as he cups your face, wanting you closer, while his other hand slides down your back, settling on your waist.
“I hope you know that I didn’t come here with these intentions.” Jungkook murmurs against your lips, his voice husky. But you guide him towards your bed.
“I know. It’s okay.” You straddle his lap. “You wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want you to.”
Jungkook’s hands are eager and exploratory, skimming over your shoulders, your back, and down to your ass, giving it a firm squeeze. His chin rests in the crook of your neck as he breathes in deeply.
“You don’t know how much I missed you,” he mumbles, nose tickling your neck as he snuggles closer to you. “You missed me too, right?” he speaks with an innocent pout on his lips that you don’t even need to see – you know it’s there.
“Of course I did. Why would you think otherwise?” You run your fingers through his silky hair, which is a comfort for both you and him.
“I think I just need to hear you say it.”
He draws back, and a soft smile touches your lips as you see the achingly tortured expression contorting his face – traces of love and relief at having you so close, right where he wants you.
“I missed you.” You keep your eyes on him.
“Again,” he urges softly.
“I missed you.”
Your fingers gently curl around his face.
Jungkook’s lips brush against yours in a fleeting kiss. His forehead falls against yours as your words sink into him, straight to his heart.
“One more time? Please?”
A giggle slips out of you. “I missed you, Jungkook.”
Your laugh dies in your throat when he crashes his lips against yours, more forceful and passionate this time, pulling you so close to him, you feel everything.
Your hips move on their own, instinctively grinding against his lap. He’s hard and the bulge is right where you’re craving him the most. You kiss turns sloppy and needy and it’s filled with heavy breathing.
Jungkook’s hands are all over you. His touches leave tingling sparks everywhere. You’ve gone months without him, and every little brush of his finger makes you lose your mind. Especially when his hand dips into the front of your tiny shorts, lightly grazing the pad of his finger against your panties and making you twitch when he brushes over your clit. You break the kiss, inhaling sharply.
“I wanna make you feel good.” His words are hushed, a slight tremor tinging his voice. His fingers disappear into your panties, rubbing his middle finger along your folds and spreading your wetness. Jungkook is tender as he moves his finger, and you wish you could see him playing with you, watch him be so soft with you because he loves treating you with delicate care, and you love feeling like you’re everything to him.
Your hips buck as he circles your aching clit. You start whine softly as Jungkook applies a little more pressure, his steady, deliberate movements intensifying the sensations as he continues to rub your sensitive spot.
“You like it?” His gaze fixed intently on your reactions to his touches. His doe eyes drink up every nuance of your face and body – each twitch, shudder, and breath. His expression brightens with a trace of satisfaction.
“Feels good,” you reply shakily.
He has you making his fingers all sticky and wet. As Jungkook slowly teases your hole, drawing tiny circles and ever so slightly dipping the tip of his finger inside, your eyes close and your breath catches while you anticipate the familiar stretch of his finger.
Jungkook slides two fingers inside you, and your brows furrow as you feel them burying deep within your pussy. He moves them slowly, each stroke eliciting soft, breathy moans from you. The gradual, teasing rhythm amplifies your pleasure, and with each tender push, your senses heighten, making you ache for more.
“Move your finger like – oh. That’s right. Don’t stop, please.”
His fingers brush against your sweet spot continuously, making you grip his shoulders tightly, your nails digging into his skin as you try to anchor yourself and try to tame the soft trembles of your body as the pleasure reaches you everywhere.
Jungkook holds you close to him by having his hand placed firmly on the small of your back. He keeps you perched on his lap while you lose yourself in the feeling.
As the pleasure builds, you find yourself melting into him, whimpering his name in a gentle hush. The soft sounds of your voice blends with the rhythmic movements of his fingers.
Jungkook feels you tightening around him. He doesn’t increase his pace but keeps his steady pattern going, exactly how he knows you like it. You hide your face on his shoulder, overwhelmed by the fast-approaching high. Your muffled noises sharply contrasting with the squelching sounds coming your shorts.
“Let me see you,” Jungkook gently requests, tugging gingerly at your shirt to draw you back. It’s just a delicate tug, but it’s enough to pull you away from him. You’re too immersed by the intense feelings enveloping you to fully respond.
He catches the exact moment when your moan gets caught in your throat, your lashes flutter shut, and the sweetest glow settles on your face as you reach your climax.
He doesn’t tease you, instead, he lets you revel in the wave of euphoria that pulses through you, your thighs quivering as you gradually come down from your high. As our breath steadies, your foreheads touch, and you exhale heavily through your nose, tickling Jungkook’s face.
He smiles. His eyes reflect a deep satisfaction, because you’re happy and that’s enough.
Jungkook’s hands travel to your sides and he slowly strokes his palms up and down. Your body is warm and shaky and he wants to hold you forever.
“Is it okay that I want more?”
You nod, kiss him, probably a little deliriously, answering, “I want it just as much.”
Your hand glides under his sweater, fingers tracing the contours of his toned stomach. Jungkook wastes no a time pulling the sweater over his head, tossing it carelessly behind you. He helps you shimmy out of your shorts, discarding your clothes in a hasty rush, stealing giggly kisses between each movement, because you need to feel. He playfully comments on how cute your panties are. His finger lazily skims over the little pink ribbon before the material sinks slips down your legs and pools around your feet in a small heap. You giggle shyly.
Just as you want to sink onto your knees, Jungkook grabs you by the elbows, not letting you.
“Want you on the bed, ___. I need to feel you,” he says, voice strained with desperate need. Jungkook leads you onto the bed, gently laying you down. Your head sinks into the soft pillows. He spreads your legs, settling himself comfortably between them.
Your hair is fanned around your head against the pillow. Jungkook can’t help but stare, utterly captivated. He brushes a few strands away from your face, his fingertips lingering as if memorising every curve. His gaze holds a quiet affection, mingled with a sense of awe, like he is seeing you for the first time and falling for you all over again.
A curse slips his mouth as she stared down at your bare pussy, glistening and shining just for him, looking so pretty only for his eyes. For a few seconds, he allows himself to rub his tip over your wet folds. Just gentle brushes, nothing more. You don’t stop him, letting him play a little.
Jungkook is painfully hard, and he dares to slide his tip further down to tease your hole a little. His stare is fixed downcast while he pokes his cheek with his tongue to distract himself from the urge to push himself all the way as he minimally dips his head inside. Jungkook’s so sensitive, he thinks he could cum like this. He’d go insane if he slipped his cock into without protection. He’s let his mind wander to this fantasy a few times and he so desperately wants to feel all of you with no barrier, especially after not having you for so long, but you both have to be careful.
Someday, when you’re older, Jungkook thinks. When he can love you endlessly without always having to consider the consequences.
“Jungkook.” You pull him back to reality, and a faint pink flush colours his face.
He bends over and opens your nightstand drawer, searching for a condom. His fingers brush against several plastic foil packages, and he pauses, lost in thought. He thinks back to the last time he was over at yours. How many were left in the drawer then? Is his mind playing tricks on him, or were there more condoms the last time he was here?
While Jungkook’s mind drifts to you every night his head falls against the pillow in a different city each night – have you been letting other boys warm your bed?
You say his name again, forcing him out of his racing thoughts once more, this time with a note of impatience.
Jungkook tears open the wrapper, tosses it away along with his doubts, and focuses on you again. You chose him, and for now, that’s all that matters to him.
He rolls it down his length. Your eyes fixate on the slow connection of your bodies. Once he’s fully inside, a shaky whimper escapes your throat, trembling as it leaves you. Jungkook begins to move his hips with deliberate thrusts, and your head rolls back, eyes drifting to the ceiling as Jungkook finds his pace.
“You’re so pretty.” His eyes roam over your naked figure, so much adoration and maybe a hint of obsession hiding in them. The white covers beneath you are messy and chaotic, and you lie on top of them like a delicate masterpiece, a striking contrast to the chaos of the bed. The soft light casts a warm glow on your skin, highlighting every curve and contour. The soft swells of your boobs move with every thrust and he enjoys the sight of it.
You grow a little shy beneath his intense gaze. You turn your head and cover your face with your arm.
Jungkook lowers himself, clicking his tongue as he gently pulls your arm away. “Don’t.” His grip is firm on your wrist and he holds it against the covers, preventing you from hiding again. However, his hold on your chin is careful as he guides your gaze back to him. Fingers slightly caressing your skin. “I love everything about you, baby.” His words coax a small smile from you, which he acknowledges with an approving nod and a smile of his own. “You don’t need to hide from me.”
“It’s just been a while.” You bite your lip. The shyness still lingers, like spotting your crush in a crowded room and instinctively hiding, feeling all giddy inside.
Jungkook slows a little, buried so deep inside you, but his movements are precise, hitting the spot that makes your tummy clench.
“I know,” he says softly, tracing his thumb over your lip to free it from your clenched teeth. He plants a little kiss on your mouth, his tongue sliding over your bottom lip to soothe the ache you’ve caused yourself. “I don’t think I’ll last long,” Jungkook admits as his round nose brushes your cheek. You’re so wet and snug around him that he has to focus intently to keep from coming right away. You’re too good, too pretty, occupying every corner of his mind. “Missed you so much. You don’t even know.”
Jungkook’s head falls into the crook of your shoulder. His moans grow a little louder as he moves faster again. He can’t help himself. Feels too good. You wrap your legs around him, allowing him to bury himself even deeper. You pull him closer, throwing your arms around him to have him as close to you as possible while Jungkook repeatedly tells you how much he has missed you and loves you, how he never wants to let go of you and keep you to himself forever. How you are meant for him just as much he is meant for you.
Jungkook sneaks one hand between your bodies and grasps your breast. Keeps a firm squeeze around your flesh while your bed rhythmically hits the wall. All the tender murmurs and quiet gasps of your love had been missing from your room for so long that you began to doubt if Jungkook would ever again fill your bed with his warmth and whispers.
You feel the heat rising on your skin, growing with each passing second, and you can sense it on Jungkook’s body too. His back is hot, slightly slick with a sheen of sweat, and you can’t resist digging your nails into his muscled shoulders, leaving chaotic, frantic lines across his skin. A whine, which you try to suppress, tumbles from your lips as the tingling sensation spreads through you.
Jungkook pulls back, his movements weary yet determined, and peers at you through heavy-lidded eyes.
“Jungkook,” you mumble weakly, and he nods, because he knows.
With a gentle but firm motion, Jungkook shifts, guiding you both onto your sides. He slips an arm beneath your waist, holding you close to his chest as he continues to move inside you. The new position allows him to thrust deeper, and you gasp. His other hand slides down your thigh, hitching your leg over his hip to open you up further.
The intimacy of the position, with your bodies so close and intertwined, makes everything feel more intense, more personal. As you move together, your eyes lock. You see in his eyes the reflection of your own emotions, a mirror of longing, affection.
Tears begin to well up in your eyes, not just from the overwhelming pleasure, but from the sheer depth of the moment, the intimacy of it all, and how much you’ve missed him.
He notices the tears glistening in your eyes. “Baby,” he breathes. “Are those tears for me?”
“I’ve missed you so much.”
“I’m not letting you leave me again.” It’s a promise wrapped in desire. “That’ll never happen again.”
His hand on your waist grips you tighter, and his thrusts become more urgent until you’re both teetering on the edge.
Jungkook’s hips stutter as he loses control, and with one final, deep thrust, he’s all the way inside you, spilling into the condom with a low groan. At the same time, you reach your peak, your body clenching tightly around his length, breathy puffs escaping your lips as the intense tremors take over. Jungkook’s holds you steady through all of it.
He stays inside you, savouring the warmth and closeness for a few more moments before carefully pulling out. He presses soft kisses along your shoulder and neck, his breath still uneven as you both come down from the high.
Later, after Jungkook asked if it’s okay to stay – just as you had been plagued by the thought that he might want to leave, and sighed in relief upon realising you were on the same page, lovesick and obsessed after finding each other again – and after he asked if he could borrow one of his old t-shirts and you giggled, saying they are his anyway (they are more yours than his and you both know it), you’re now cuddled up in bed with your head on his chest, right on top of his heart where you belong.
“Forgot how comfy your bed is.” He nuzzles deeper into the mattress, wriggling beneath you.
“You should visit more often, then.”
Jungkook sniffs a surprised laugh at your flirty remark.
“I should, huh?” He brushes his knuckles over your back. “After the tour, I’ll make sure to drop by as often as possible,” he says. “So much that you might get sick of me.”
You smile. Banter and flirt and giggle with him a bit more before you both drift off to sleep.
But you wonder, every time your eyes flutter open in the dark, is it actually this easy to fall back into normality?
Pretend the last few months didn’t happen and continue as you had never been apart?
Questions swirl in your head all night long, but the answer to your doubts lies right beside you. Unlike you, he isn’t awake, grappling with what’s right and wrong – he’s softly sleeping, peacefully unconscious of your turmoil.
It makes you think, is it really this simple and you’re just too much? Or is it all a mess, and you’re the only one trying to make sense of it?
Maybe you had it all wrong.
And you wonder, the next morning, are you really that surprised to find the spot next to you empty?
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