Warnings: unprotected hetero smut - minors DNI; long distance sads. AU where BTS go to Italy I guess 🥲
She thought she was ready to date a pop star; she thought somehow the lead up to tour, the long days of meetings and rehearsals had prepared her for the weeks and weeks of minimal contact and just not seeing him. And for two months she was able to hold it together when Namjoon would get to call her, even though as soon as they hung up she’d call her best friend and fall to pieces with the misery of missing him. Her ruse of having her life together in his absence fell apart when she answered a FaceTime from him red-eyed and puffy, having had to leave a party early when one of his solo songs came on the birthday girl’s playlist. It was embarrassing.
Tickets to Rome were in her inbox within six hours, for a day and a half later. She slept through her first time flying first class after staying up all night packing and repacking, and repacking again after second- and third-guessing every choice she’d made.
The cab ride to his hotel was a blur. Another time she would look out the window, take in the sights, ask the driver in mangled Italian where a girl could get the best cappuccino and pastry in the morning. Today she kept her eyes on the maps app, ticking off the minutes to him. Twenty minutes. Fifteen minutes. Ten. Five. Here.
He was waiting at the door in just his gray sweatpants, throwing it open when she raised her hand to knock, the briefest “Hi” and a laugh before he crushed her body to his as the door shut behind them. Moments passed and they didn’t move, wrapped up in each other, breathing each other in, reassuring themselves that the other was real.
“Hi,” he said again into the crook of her neck, before he pulled away to look at her with those eyes, so soft and sleepy and happy, closing them briefly when she pushed away the shock of hair that had fallen across his forehead. “How was your flight?”
She smiled. “You don’t care about my flight.”
The kiss was aggressive, a release valve on the pressure that had built in the months since she’d seen him. He backed her into the door, his hands pushing up her shirt to palm at her stomach, her waist, her lace-covered breasts, before he yanked it over her head, his skin warm against hers chilled from the night air.
“Fuck, I could fuck you right here,” he grunted, and she felt the hot stab of want pierce through her. He pushed them away from the door, stumbling through the suite as he kissed her; he left a trail of their clothes behind them.
She straddled his waist when he dropped onto the bed, refusing to let him flip her onto her back, insisting on control as more desperate kisses made her grind against him, his erection sliding through the slick between her legs as they fumbled their way towards the headboard.
“Are you ready,” he murmured when she gripped him in her hand, lined him up to notch him against her entrance. “Don’t you want me to-”
“Shut up,” she retorted, sinking slowly, slowly down his length, exhaling with a soft whimper as his girth stretched her walls and the slight burn made her tighten harder around him. His hands covered the flesh of her ass, fingertips digging in, a grumbled curse low in his throat. She stilled, seated on him, breathing deeply as her body adjusted to his significant size.
“I missed you,” he said softy against her cheek, his hands moving up her body to wrap his arms around her. “I miss you, all the time.”
He held her so tightly to him she could barely move, but she rolled her hips, her moan mirroring his. Her name dripped like honey from his mouth, and she pressed herself harder against him. She’d never needed anyone like this, never felt needed like this. “I miss you, too.” She was already dreading leaving him again. She kissed him, rocked against him again, forced the thought from her mind when he slackened his hold and let her move more freely. He started to raise his hips to meet her movements, his thumbs digging in at the crease of hers.
Her head fell back as she rode him, the swell of her breast heavy at the parting of his lips where he suckled a mark into the paler skin, moving to the other to leave an identical one, his hands again on her ass to rock her faster against him. She cried out his name when he changed the angle of his thrusts to grind harder against her clit with every push, grasped at his shoulders in an attempt to anchor herself to something, anything solid as the pressure built inside her.
“That’s my girl.” His voice was tight, she knew he was close, holding back for her. “My sweetest - fuck - perfect girl, my… mine…” She rode him faster, faster, her thighs and knees burning but the orgasm coiled in her belly so close, and with a strangled “Come,” from Namjoon’s lips against her neck she fell, her walls spasming so tightly around him that he spilled hot inside her, a mess of jerky hips and curses and groans as he again clutched her to him in a bruising embrace.
He held her just a little too tightly; it made her squeak. “Shit, sorry.” His arms loosened around her. His breathing was heavy, warm against her chest where he rested his forehead. “I waited too long to fly you out.” She heard the faintest quiver in his voice. “Wish you could just stay.”
“Show’s not til the end of the week. We have a few days.” She scratched her nails across the back of his neck and down over his shoulders. He grunted in pleasure, nuzzling further into her.
summary: Jungkook knows he has no right to you anymore, not after your breakup— but that doesn’t stop him from losing control when he finds out about you and Taehyung. Soon after he’s confronting you in a janitor’s closet and showing you how you’ll never find someone better than him.
genre/warning: a little plot but mostly smut. / dirty talk. degradation (slut-shaming). dry-humping. clit-slapping. blowjob. throat-fucking. oral sex (fem! receiving- you know me guys). rough sex. penetration. creampie.
authors note: yes it’s me high again. let me do my thing and get ur panties ready this is a long one. — i’ll edit this later!!
— this can be read on its own but for more context: sugar talking (first part).
Jungkook knew something was wrong before he even understood what it was.
It sat somewhere under his ribs, like a bruise he kept pressing without meaning to. The bar was too loud, full of overlapping voices, clinking glasses, bursts of laughter that came too easily for a random Thursday night. Someone had opened it that night, a friend of a friend, which meant half the room was familiar faces and the other half pretending to be. Jungkook stood in the middle of it, drink in hand, nodding along to a conversation he hadn’t been listening to for the past ten minutes.
He laughed when they laughed, aid “yeah” at the right time, even took a sip when there was a pause. But his mind was somewhere else entirely.
On you.
On his phone. On the last message he had sent that still sat there unanswered.
He shifted his weight, pulling his phone out again without thinking, thumb already unlocking it like muscle memory. The screen lit up, and there it was… your chat, pinned, untouched, still with that stupid nickname he reserved only for you. His last message from earlier that afternoon:
Are you going tonight?
Delivered.
His jaw tightened slightly. It was stupid, such a small thing. You were probably busy, or you hadn’t seen it, or you were ignoring him on purpose— which, honestly, would have made sense too. A lot of more sense than you actually replying. He exhaled through his nose, locking the phone again a second later, slipping it back into his pocket like it burned him.
“…and then he just left, like actually left, didn’t even say goodbye—”
Jungkook blinked, dragged back into the conversation mid-sentence. “What?”
His friend snorted. “You aren’t even here, man.”
“I am,” Jungkook said automatically, lifting his drink slightly. “Just tired.”
“Sure,” another one chimed in, eyeing him. “Or thinking about her.”
Jungkook didn’t react immediately, just took another sip, slower this time. “Don’t start.”
“I’m just saying,” the first guy shrugged, leaning back against the bar. “You two were… you know.”
“Yeah,” someone else added, “everyone thought you’d last longer.”
Jungkook let out a quiet, humorless laugh. “Good to know everyone had bets on it.”
There was a brief pause, a very uncomfortable one for him. It was really uncomfortable how everyone seemed so entertained by his relationship… Well, ex relationship.
It had been a stupid fight, that was the worst part. Not something explosive, not cheating or lying or anything dramatic enough to justify how final it felt now. Just time. Or the lack of it. Work piling up, schedules not matching, you getting tired of asking for space in his life that should have already been yours.
You had argued about it before, multiple times. And every time, Jungkook had said the same thing: it’ll get better. I’ll make more time.
It didn’t. He didn’t.
And now you weren’t answering his texts. Which— fine. Okay. He got it. You were mad, you had every right to be. But there was something about the silence that felt… different that time. Not angry, not temporary but final.
Final. That thought just made something twist uncomfortably in his chest.
“Speaking of the devil,” someone muttered.
Jungkook’s head lifted before he could stop himself. “What?”
His friend tilted his chin slightly toward the other side of the bar. “She’s here.”
For a second, Jungkook didn’t move, trying to composed himself before turning around. And there you were.
Across the room, near one of the high tables, surrounded by people he vaguely recognized. You were laughing at something someone said, head tilted back slightly, hair falling over your shoulder in a way he liked too much. There was a drink in your hand, your posture loose, comfortable, confidence that you always carry so well.
Like nothing was wrong. like nothing had ended. Like you weren’t as hurt as he was.
Jungkook’s fingers tightened subtly around his glass.
“Not surprising,” one of his friends said. “She’s still friends with Sooka, right?” Sooka was the one opening the bar.
“Yeah, I think so.”
“Figures.”
Jungkook hummed faintly, but he wasn’t really hearing them anymore.
He was watching you, trying to figure something out he couldn’t quite name. You looked the same. Exactly the same. And somehow… not.
“Yo, Jungkook—”
He didn’t respond.
“—hey, are you even—”
“What?” he snapped, a little sharper than intended, dragging his gaze back to them.
His friend raised his hands slightly. “Relax. I was just asking if you wanted another drink.”
“I’m good.”
“You sure? You look like you need one.”
Jungkook almost said something back, but another voice cut in, lighter, distracted.
“Guys did you see the videos from last week?”
“What videos?”
“The party. Someone posted a bunch, they even got Kyung taking his shirt off.”
That caught Jungkook’s attention just enough.
“What party?” someone asked.
“Last Friday. The one at Minho’s place.”
“Oh, that one. Yeah, I heard it got messy.”
“It did,” the guy grinned, already pulling his phone out. “Look at this…”
He turned the screen around, and a small group leaned in. Jungkook didn’t, not at first since he was still half-looking across the room, still aware of where you were and what you were doing.
But then the phone got shoved closer to him. “Look, look— this part…”
Jungkook sighed quietly, glancing down more out of obligation than interest. He had been at the party for ten minutes, when he didn’t find you he just left with Taehyung who had been eager to go back home and leave the place.
The video was exactly what he expected. Loud music, shaky camera, people dancing too close, laughing too hard, drinking too much. His friend taking his shirt off and making a fool of himself once again. Nothing important, nothing he cared about. He was about to look away— and then he didn’t.
Because something in the background shifted. Not the focus of the video, not what the person filming intended but a person he immediately recognized there. A person he could recognize in any place, in any clothes, in any setting.
You.
… And Taehyung.
Jungkook’s eyes narrowed slightly, his attention snapping into place. The video kept playing, but he wasn’t watching anything else anymore. You were standing near the edge of the frame, half-obscured by other people, talking. Close. Too close for his liking. Taehyung leaned in in the counter and closer to you to say something, and you laughed… head dipping, shoulder brushing his.
A reaction he knew too well.
I was small, it was nothing. It shouldn’t have meant anything. But it did. Because he could recognize when you weren’t just talking to someone but entertaining them.
Jungkook straightened slightly. “Wait.”
“Hm?”
“Go back.”
His friend paused, confused. “What?”
“Go back,” Jungkook repeated, more focused now.
The guy rewound a few seconds. “This part?”
“Yeah.”
They watched it again.
This time Jungkook didn’t miss anything. The way Taehyung’s body angled toward you, the way you didn’t pull away. The ease of you entertaining his friend, flirting.
Jungkook’s jaw tightened.
“Oh, is that Taehyung?” someone shrugged. “He was at the party too, right? Didn’t he leave early?.”
Jungkook didn’t answer.
Because he knew that wasn’t entirely a lie. He left early, but he had arrived there early too.
“Show me more,” he said suddenly.
“What?”
“More videos. From that night.”
His friend frowned slightly. “Why?”
“Just show me.”
There was a brief hesitation, then a shrug. “Okay… I think there’s more on Kyung’s page. You know how he likes to post every party event.”
Jungkook didn’t wait. He was already pulling his own phone out, already opening the app, searching. The account came up quickly. Posts and highlights from every party his friend went to, even reposts, from last week, from different nights.
He scrolled. One story. Another. Nothing. Just crowds, drinks, music. His thumb moved faster. Scroll. Scroll. Scroll—
There.
Videos posted the weekend before. Same place, same lighting. He started watching it like he was a damn FBI agent looking for the most wanted criminal. Video after video and for a second it was nothing again, just people dancing, laughing, moving through the frame.
Then the camera shifted slightly to the last post, someone was talking about their favourite alcohol drinks like an influencer. And in the background—
Taehyung.
Pushing someone out of the bathroom where you were standing inside.
Jungkook’s breath caught.
The movement was quick, almost easy to miss if you weren’t looking for it. A hand on a shoulder, a shove, a door opening. The guy stumbled out, clearly confused, saying something the video didn’t catch. And then Taehyung was closing the door in the guy’s face like he was trying to have privacy… with you. He was alone… with you.
Jungkook didn’t move. He didn’t even blink for a minute. The video kept playing, but it didn’t matter anymore because suddenly, everything connected in a way that made his stomach drop.
You.
The first video. The way you had looked that night. The silence afterwards. Taehyung acting weird lately. Taehyung saying he didn’t know if you were there. The bathroom.
His grip tightened around his phone.
“What’s up?,” someone muttered beside him, noticing over his shoulder. “Did you find something…?”
Jungkook didn’t answer.
Because he did. The thought was already there, fully formed, sharp and ugly and impossible to ignore. Something had happened. And it wasn’t just with anyone. It was him, Taehyung, one of his best friends.
Slowly, almost mechanically, Jungkook lifted his head. Looked across the bar again and found you immediately. But this time you weren’t alone. You were standing close to Taehyung, talking like nothing had ever happened, or like everything already had.
Anger started growing in his veins. Jungkook couldn’t stop looking at you two.
It was worse now that he knew— or thought he knew. Before, there had been doubt, something he could twist into something else, something harmless. A coincidence, a bad angle, a misunderstanding. Now there was none of that, now there was just the image burned into his head. Taehyung’s hand on that door, the way he had stepped inside like he belonged there. Like he had a reason to be alone in a room with you.
Like you were already waiting for him.
Jungkook’s jaw clenched so hard it started to ache, but he barely noticed. His grip around his phone tightened until his knuckles went pale, the edges digging into his palm. Across the bar, you were still there, still grinning, still leaning slightly toward Taehyung like nothing in the world had shifted.
Like you hadn’t just—
His stomach turned, something twisting inside him.
Of course Taehyung had tried something. Jungkook wasn’t stupid, he had known for a long time. The way Taehyung looked at you sometimes… too long, too interested, too aware. The jokes that leaned a little too close to flirting and the way he always somehow ended up near you in group settings.
Jungkook had noticed.
He just hadn’t thought— No. That wasn’t true. He had thought about it. He just didn’t believe you would ever give in.
And that… that was the part that made his chest feel tight now. Not that Taehyung wanted you, that was expected. It was that you might have wanted him back. That you might have let him have you the way he once did. That you had broken up with Jungkook and, instead of missing him, instead of needing space or time or anything he had convinced himself you needed—
You had gone to Taehyung.
His best friend.
Jungkook let out a quiet, sharp breath, dragging a hand down his face. This was insane. It could still be nothing. It could still…
He looked back up and saw the way Taehyung leaned closer to you again. Saw the way you didn’t move away like usually did. The way you were still there, still talking to him.
That was it.
Something snapped clean in his chest. He was moving before he fully registered it, pushing himself off the bar, barely hearing someone call his name behind him. His steps were quick, direct, cutting through the crowd without hesitation, his focus locked on one thing only. On you, on him. You noticed him too late.
By the time your eyes flicked up and met his, he was already there, already too close, already reaching for you. His hand closed around your arm, firm, unyielding, fingers digging in just enough to make you frown in confusion.
“Jungkook— what—”
“Shut up.” It wasn’t a request.
“What the fuck—?”
Over his shoulder, his eyes flicked back briefly, locking with Taehyung’s for half a second. There was no confusion there. No question, just something dark and warning. “We’ll talk later,” Jungkook said, voice low but sharp enough to cut through.
You barely had time to react before he was pulling you away, out of the conversation, out of Taehyung’s reach, through the crowd toward the back hallway. The music got muffled the further you went, replaced by the dull echo of footsteps and your voice trying to keep up with him.
“Jungkook, what the hell— let go!—”
He didn’t. Didn’t even slow down.
Then he was turning away again, pulling you the rest of the way down the hall until he found the first door, shoving it open without checking and dragging you inside.
It was small. Some kind of storage office, maybe for cleaning supplies. A desk shoved in the middle of the place, a chair in a corner, shelves with random things stacked unevenly.
The door slammed shut behind you.
And suddenly it was quiet. The music barely making it inside.
Jungkook let go of your arm, but only because he needed the space, needed a second to breathe before he did something worse. His chest was rising and falling too fast, his hands flexing at his sides like he didn’t know what to do with them.
You were already moving. “Are you insane?” you snapped, turning toward the door. “What is wrong with you—”
“Did you fuck him?”
The words cut through the room so fast they almost didn’t register. You froze immediately. Your hand paused on the handle, your whole body going still for just a second too long.
And that was enough.
Jungkook laughed, but there was nothing amused about it. It came out hard, disbelieving, almost breathless. “Wow.”
You turned back slowly. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?” he shot back immediately, stepping closer. “Don’t ask? Don’t notice? Don’t put two fucking things together?”
“You don’t get to come in here and—”
“Did you?” he cut you off again, louder this time, the restraint slipping. “It’s a simple question.”
“Do you think I would fuck—?”
“You better not fucking lie to me,” his voice was demanding, rough, scary.
There was a silence. Your jaw tightened. “It’s none of your business if I did.”
That answer hit worse than anything else.
Jungkook’s expression shifted, something darker settling in. “None of my—” he repeated, shaking his head slightly like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Right. Yeah. Of course.”
You crossed your arms, defensive now, already pulling away from the conversation. “We broke up, Jungkook.”
“Yeah,” he snapped. “I’m aware.”
“So what I do— who I see—”
“Who you see?” he laughed again, sharper this time. “You’re seeing him now? Is this a fucking joke?”
“I’m not seeing him and I didn’t—” You took a step toward the door again. “I’m not doing this with you. We’re done.”
He moved faster, hand slamming hard against the door before you could reach it, blocking your way completely. The sound echoed in the small room, making you flinch just slightly.
“Yes, you are.”
“Move.”
“No.”
“Jungkook—”
“Answer me.”
Your eyes flashed. “You don’t even fucking care. If this is an ego thing then no— I didn’t fuck him.”
That made him pause for a second.
Because the answer was right there, sitting in his chest, heavy and undeniable and humiliating in a way he didn’t want to put into words. Because it shouldn’t matter. Even if it was an ego thing it shouldn’t matter. Because you weren’t his anymore. Because he had lost that right. And still—
“I care,” he said, voice lower now, rougher, “and not because an ego thing.” You didn’t say anything. And that silence stretched. “You could’ve picked anyone,” he went on, stepping closer again, his voice tightening with every word. “Anyone. And you go for him?”
“I didn’t ‘go for’ anyone—”
“Don’t lie to me,” he snapped. “I saw the videos.”
“Videos?,” you snorted, humourless. “What— me and him fucking?.”
“No, you and him in that fucking party last week.” That made your expression flicker. A small and quick motion, but he caught it. You didn’t say anything snarky. “Yeah,” he said, nodding slowly. “That’s what I thought.”
You exhaled sharply, frustration bleeding through now. “It was a party, Jungkook. People talk, people drink—”
“People don’t end up in bathrooms together for no reason.”
The words landed hard. Your lips parted slightly, but nothing came out. Jungkook stepped even closer, until there was barely any space left between you, his voice dropping into something quieter, more dangerous.
“Was he better than me?”
Your head snapped up. “What?”
“Was he better,” he repeated, slower this time, like he wanted you to hear every word, “or were you just that desperate to get over me?”
“Fuck you,” you shot back immediately, shoving at his chest. “You don’t get to say that—”
He caught your wrist before you could pull away, grip tight, not letting you go this time.
“Then what was it?” he demanded. “What— one week and you’re already— what? Letting someone else touch you? Spreading your legs for my best friend—”
“Shut the fuck up.”
“Why?” he pushed. “Does it make it more real if we say it out loud?”
That did it. Something in your expression shifted, anger breaking through whatever restraint you had left. “You don’t get to do this,” you said, voice shaking now, louder. “You don’t get to act like you care after everything.”
“I do care—”
“Then where were you?” you shot back. “Where were you when I was asking for time? When I was asking for you to show up? You didn’t care then you don’t care now. You just don’t want me to move on.”
“That’s not—”
“You don’t get to ignore me for months and then suddenly decide you’re entitled to know who I’m with.”
The words hit him hard. Jungkook’s grip on your wrist tightened slightly, his jaw clenching again. “So this is what this is?” he said, quieter now, but no less intense. “You’re proving a point?”
“No,” you snapped. “I’m not proving anything to you because I don’t give a fuck about you anymore. We’re done.”
And those words landed between you like something solid. Like it was final. Jungkook stared at you for a second, something flickering across his face, anger, disbelief, something else underneath it that he didn’t let fully surface.
“Right,” he said finally, voice flat. “And now you’ll go to him?.” You didn’t answer. And that silence… It drove him insane. “Say it,” he pushed, stepping closer again, backing you up until the back of your shoulders brushed the wall. “Say it and I’ll drop it.”
“I don’t owe you—”
“Say it. Say that you’ll go to him. Say you don’t want me anymore.”
Your breathing hitched slightly, your back pressing harder against the wall as he closed the distance completely, his presence overwhelming in the small space.
“Jungkook—”
“Say it,” he repeated, softer this time, but somehow worse. “Tell me you don’t want me. Tell me you want him.”
You swallowed. Your eyes flickered to his mouth for half a second— barely noticeable. But he saw it.
And that was it.
That was all it took, something in him snapped completely. His hand came up to your jaw, rough, not gentle, tilting your face up toward his as he leaned in, the last inch of space disappearing in a second.
And when he kissed you it wasn’t soft, it wasn’t hesitant. It was angry, desperate. Messy in a way that felt like he had been holding it in for too long and didn’t know how to do it any other way anymore. Jungkook’s lips smashed against yours like he’d been starving for it, like he couldn’t breathe without tasting you. His hands were everywhere— grabbing your waist, sliding up your back, threading through your hair— claiming, desperate, unrelenting.
Every thought he had was sharp and brutal: the thought of you with someone else, Taehyung’s stupid smug grin, the way he got to touch you, the way he got to hear your sweet sounds. The way he probably got to taste you and kiss you like that… it made him furious, desperate.
He pressed closer, chest against yours, like if he didn’t physically own you, he’d lose you entirely.
When he pulled back just slightly, just enough to see your face, his eyes were wild, dark with jealousy. “Was he better than me?” His voice was low, tight with anger, but trembling under the weight of his desire.
You froze. You opened your mouth, closed it, said nothing, tried to pull back. But he roughly grabbed your jaw with his fingers, making you pout slightly and tilting your head toward him, forcing your eyes to meet his. “Answer me,” he snapped, desperation sharpening his tone. “Was he better?”
Your silence was fuel to him, making something in his chest twist, making him kiss you harder, more urgently, as if trying to erase every trace of that possibility. He pressed his forehead to yours, breathing fast, whispering against your lips, “I’ll fucking show you… I’ll show you exactly who’s better.”
“Don’t— ”
“Now you talk?” He shook his head angrily. “You better keep your fucking mouth shut if you’re not answering right.”
Jungkook didn’t let you protest, kissing you hardly again.
He knew two things now: 1. He was going to fuck you senseless, and 2. He was going to kill Kim Taehyung after he was done with you.
His hands didn’t stop, roaming possessively, memorizing your body the way his mind wouldn’t let him forget. He kissed you like he was claiming you, like the second he let go, you might disappear into someone else’s arms forever. Every push, every pull, every heated second was coated with the anger, obsession, and need he couldn’t control. He wasn’t gentle. He wasn’t kind. He wasn’t thinking. He was Jungkook— possessive, furious, and completely undone by the idea that you weren’t his anymore.
No, no— you were. You were his. He was going to show you. He was going to remind you.
You were still his. Jungkook was going to erase every trace of him.
Even as your lips parted and you tried to get words out, he silenced you with another sharp, hungry kiss, letting his hands and body speak for the fury he couldn’t contain. His mind spun with every memory, every image of you with anyone else, twisting into one single, obsessive thought: you’re mine, and I’ll make sure you never forget it.
“Get on your knees.”
It wasn’t a request. Jungkook’s voice was hard and rough, he was commanding you to do as he said so. You still opened your mouth to say something but he immediately pushed you down. His hand on your shoulder making you crunch down until you were on your knees.
“It wasn’t a fucking question.”
You’ve never seen Jungkook angry like that and somehow it just made your body vibrate with anticipation.
You were on your knees in the middle of a dark janitor’s closet, in a new bar, wood floor rough against your bare skin, heart hammering so loud you swore it echoed. Jungkook’s eyes glanced down at you. Dark and hard. His gaze moving at your glossy wet lips, and he had to stop himself to kiss you again by putting his thumb against your lips instead.
“Open,” you did. And he forced his thumb in. You gripped his forearm, and he forced himself forward, pressing his thumb down on your tongue so you would suck a it, almost making you gag. “Yeah? Miss having a real dick?. Couldn’t even spent a month without having to look for it?”
He pushed his thumb out of your mouth, his hands going straight to unbuckle his jeans. You looked up as he started pumping himself over his clothes, getting harder at the sight of you.
“I didn’t,” you said to him.
Jungkook started breathing harder. Hope growing in his chest. “You didn’t fuck him?.”
“No, I did. I just didn’t have to look for it. Taehyung find me.”
You did fuck him.
Jungkook was definitely going to kill him.
And he was going to make you choke on it.
Jungkook’s jaw tightened. His gaze darker than before. He was so horny and so angry it was going in pair. He moved his underwear down, his cock immediately jumping out to hit his abs. He looked so delicious like that, ready to make you do whatever he wanted to. Ready to make you regret even thinking about other man that wasn’t him. He could imagine you kneeling like that for Taehyung and that thought only made him want to go harder on you.
“You know what I didn’t miss? That fucking smart mouth.” His thumb stroked your cheek, almost tender, before he guided your head forward. “Open wide. Gonna remind you how to take a real man.”
He didn’t wait, didn’t prepare himself. He just wanted to make you feel him. He just wanted to be close to you in any way, remind you he could still make his way into you.
His fingers pressed hard in your cheeks, making you open your mouth and he slide in slow, letting you feel every inch stretching your jaw. The head popped past your lips with a wet sound, thick and hot on your tongue. You tasted skin and salt and him, his veins dragging along the flat of your tongue as he pushed deeper, inch by inch disappearing into the wet heat of your mouth.
He let your cheeks go. You whined around him, the sound muffled and pathetic, and it made him groan. His hips finally rolled forward, shallow at first, feeding you more until the head nudged the back of your throat. Your eyes watered instantly, lashes clumping, but you didn’t push him away. You just blink up at him, tears spilling, remembering how it felt to take him.
“Yeah, just like that.” Jungkook nodded slowly, his fingers sinking into your hair. “Gonna use what is mine.”
He started fucking your mouth in earnest then. First slow, controlled strokes that let you feel every ridge, every vein sliding over your tongue. Your hands gripped his thighs, nails digging into the expensive fabric of his jeans that were in the middle of his thighs, trying to steady yourself while he used your throat like it was his.
But even when he was fucking your throat Jungkook couldn’t forget that you were like this with another man. That you decided to do this with someone else.
It fucked him up the fact that you were actually moving on, able to fuck another person without feeling like you were betraying him. It pissed him off that he couldn’t stop thinking about you. That he couldn’t ever stop thinking about you. Even if he was angry, even if you were to fuck someone else tomorrow. He would stuffed your throat and fuck you senseless until you understood that no one could ever compare to him. He would be behind you, reminding you that every day if he had to.
He wondered if you even knew what it felt like to be this crazy over someone. He wasn’t even able to phantom another person doing that for you— you wouldn’t have enough room in your mind to think about him if that were the case, right?.
Jungkook pulled away from you. You coughed slightly, eyes filled with tears. He didn’t even spare you a second gaze before taking a seat in the old chair next to the wall, spreading his legs.
“Come here. Wanna see you crawl.”
You shouldn’t.
Jungkook didn’t know if you were asking for forgiveness, you don’t seem like it. You actually didn’t even look guilty for fucking Taehyung so he didn’t know why you still played with him. Crawling back to him like you were still his. But he wasn’t going to complain, he was going to take whatever he could out of you. He’ll take whatever you want from him, even if it was playing a part to get you off.
“Kook—”
“You know what I like.”
You positioned yourself between his legs. Your hand moved the base of his cock, squeezing it slightly. Jungkook didn’t move, watching you with boredom. You looked down at him. His veins bulged under the skin, thick and ridged, pulsing when you gave another tentative squeeze. One fat vein snaked right along the underside, throbbing harder every time your thumb brushed over it.
“You can do better,” Jungkook muttered, voice low and strained, one big hand cupping the back of your head.
He was looking so composed except for the way his cock twitched in your grip and the bead of precum already leaking from the slit.
You stuck out your tongue, slowly licking from the base to the head of his cock. Jungkook’s nails gripped the chair hard. Your lips kissed his mushroom tip and he was done for. He was sure that he will kill anyone who ever thinks has the right to touch you ever again.
You licked the head over and over like it was some damn popsicle. Jungkook let out a low sigh deep inside his chest. His hips rising uncontrollably, spreading his legs further for you, hand gently caressing your head.
“Take me inside your mouth,” his quiet command had your eyes fluttering up at him. He wanted to kiss you so bad but he knew you didn’t deserve it. Looking all dolled up, with runny mascara from your tears, and flushed cheeks from your nasty doing. Did you dress like that for Taehyung? Did you think you were going to end up fucking him tonight?. “Open wide— yes, yea’ just like that—“ Jungkook groaned watching you suck his fat tip into your mouth, tongue circling his slit.
“I can—”
“Shut up,” he roughly guided you down again. “Shut the fuck up and take sum’ore, nghh—“ His other hand pushed his loose strands back, playing with his lip piercing to prevent the noises threatening to come out. “Fuck,” his back arched slightly, head thrown back as he gripped the chair. “Yeah, meant to be like this. On your knees just for me— ngh, shit. You piss me off so bad. Did he— did he get you like this too?.”
“He didn’t,” you finally answered, innocently glancing up at him like you weren’t smothering his cock like it was your favourite dessert and you weren’t talking about how his best friend fucked you.
Weirdly, that statement made Jungkook feel better.
“Good. That pretty mouth is only mine.” You kissed again his oozing tip before swallowing him. “That’s right, fuckin’ mine. Takin’ me, just me— Say it.” He grabbed your hair, pulling you away to make you look at him without his cock in your mouth. “Say you’re mine.”
“Make me,” you breathed out before sticking your tongue again, licking his tip.
Jungkook clenched his teeth, “you fuckin’ whore,” his abs tensed even more as you picked up the pace, gagging occasionally, but still stroking his base at the same speed. His eyes struggled to stay open, the pleasure making his mind foggy as you choked more of his cock into your tight hot mouth. “Only mine, mine. Get it in your fucking head— shit, shit, f-fuck,” Jungkook stammered, jaw loosening as his abs flexed. the sound alone had you choking a bit as a moan left your throat.
He tugged your head, a low grunt escaping from deep in his chest when you started whining.
“Gonna have your throat stuffed like this for weeks so you fucking understand who you belong to,” he bit his lip, slowly thrusting his hips into your mouth. You gagged even more but remained in the mission of sucking him dry, barely whining around him as you gripped his thighs. “Dumb girl.”
Another moan threatened to slip past his lips, he let it out. His other hand pressed a palm against your forehead, brushing your sweat with his thumb.
Your tongue swiped against that one vein that sent immediate jerks throughout his body. “Wait, wait— fuckin’ shit. Will come inside you not in your mouth.”
You pulled off, gasping for air. Jungkook’s head falling back slightly. You were so good for him. Once again, your tongue swiped against the sensitive vein. “The fuck did I tell you,” he pulled from your hair roughly to keep you away from his cock. You breathed heavily. Your cheeks flushed, mouth open and panting as sticky strings of spit and pre cum connected your bottom lip to his drooling tip.
Jungkook thought how you looked the prettiest like that.
He groaned when his tongue collided with yours, kissing you hard again. Hot and desperate and aching to be further inside you than he could get. Jungkook wanted you to choke on him, to feel and think nothing but him, and even that won’t be a tenth of how he felt for you. He wanted you to see it, to realize how bad you’ve got him.
But he also wanted to put in your place.
His mind couldn’t stop imagine scenarios where Taehyung was in his place. Touching you, feeling you, talking sweet and nasty things into your ear, tasting you like that. It made his heart stopped, his veins getting warmer, his mind clouded in anger and desperation.
Jungkook pushed you to the desk, feet dragging the chair behind him. His hands moved your skirt to your hips and he quickly made you sit in the cold wood, opening your legs to discover what he missed the most. What was his, what he needed to remind who it belonged to. He put himself between your legs, panties already soaked. Even as your chest rose and fell, you held yourself up, letting him put your feet on the edge of the desk and spread your legs apart completely.
His cock, colored in a deeper shade of wisteria with protruding veins woven around, slid on the thin layer of your dampened panties. Your thighs were parted even more with his obstinate hands, having you in full view.
Your cotton panties were too wet, clinging on to you, even more so due to him caressing and pressing it on your skin with the help of his shaft to vividly showcase the lining of your cunt. A string of thick pre-cum on his slit, dispersed itself on the wetness of your panties. “hm, dripping for me already,” he uttered through clenched teeth, rubbing the underside of his length on to your clothed folds. “yeah, feel this huh? Fucking mine. She’s crying for me.”
“S’ good, Kook,” you whined.
“Yea?” You let out a visceral moan when his tip nudged your clit with a hard motion. His cockhead traced the outline of your cunt. “Bet he couldn’t make you feel like this, huh. Thinks he can get away with takin’ what’s mine— shit, gonna fucking murder that bastard.”
“F-fuck, fuck—”
His plump head rolled over your aching clothed bud. It was messy and sticky, Jungkook started scrawling out the letters of his name against and around your clit. Whispering with it too, “Mhm, keep making those pretty sounds for me. Look how wet and ready you are. Throbbing for me. I know how much you missed me.” He muttered, not talking to you but your pussy. “Miss you too, pretty” Jungkook gave your cunt a soft tap that left the air filled with a wet plop! “Never letting you go again. Gonna keep you busy and full all the time.”
Jungkook pulled away, falling to the chair. Rough palm caressing your thighs before he started biting them.
“Kook—”
“Next time you wanna open your legs for a dumb fucking loser you better think twice.” He said, eyes dark as he looked at your panties and your cute wet mound sticking to the material. His thumb stroking your inner thigh. “Will fuck this pussy again and again until you understand she’ll never not be mine.”
Jungkook easily hooked a finger and slid your panties to the side, leaning down, tongue sticking out as he licked a wet strip up your sweet cunt.
And before you could even properly moan he was wrapping his arms around your thighs, shoving his face even deeper making you jolt and whimper loudly.
Jungkook’s eyes rolled back. He didn’t want to give you the satisfaction of him enjoying that so much but he couldn’t help it. He wanted to show you why you would never get away from him, why he would never let you go. He didn’t want you to think about another man ever again, didn’t like the thought that he was so stupid to almost let you go. He didn’t like the fact that you were about to leave him. The fact that you got so close to move on from him that you let another man fucked you.
He hated it. He hated it so much.
His teeth bit down your clit softly, making you sob at the painfully delicious feeling. Your cunt was practically pouring with arousal as he shoved his lips back in. Jungkook couldn’t believe he spent weeks without putting his mouth between your legs. He should’ve thrown you in a private place and fuck you dumb before. He shouldn’t have let you walk away so easily.
He thought how he’ll never do it again. He’ll never let you go like that. He’ll never let you even think about it.
The sweet taste of your juices had him moaning against you. He was about to pull away to fuck you properly but you didn’t let him. “S’ close— Kook, please,” your nails dug into the back of his neck, forcing him to continue eating you out.
If he wanted too, he could pull away easily but having you force his head between your thighs had him going feral, grateful you needed him that bad. He wanted so badly to make you go dumb, that the only thing you could think of was him and his touch. Him making you feel good, him touching you in the parts you needed him the most.
Jungkook dragged his tongue up slow, circling your clit with the tip before sucking it into his mouth hard enough to make your back arch off the desk. You slapped a hand over your own mouth to muffle the whimper.
He licked you like he had been waiting to all day. Desperately and deep, tongue flattening, dragging, nosing up against your clit while his hands gripped your thighs to keep you wide open and wobbling. He was not gentle. He was eating you to make a point, moaning into your cunt while your fingers claw his hair and your mouth opened around a pathetic sound you didn’t mean to make.
“Messy little whore,” he said looking at you, tongue dragging a slick stripe through your folds like he was eating his plate clean, “should make you say sorry with your legs open.”
He stopped.
You whined, so close to your release it made you almost cry in frustration, “no, no, no— please, kook—”
“Yea? Think begging will work now?” Jungkook stood up, messily cleaning your juice from his jaw and nose with his shirt before looking at you. “Say it.”
“W-what?” you frowned confused.
“Say you’r mine,” he said again. His hand move to your cunt, brushing his fingers against your clit.
“Kook,” you whined.
Jungkook lose his patience. Your sopping cunt continued to leak as he teased you more and more, and it was the most satisfying sight in the world to see you shake with need beneath him. “What? you’re not mine now?. Wan’ me to fuck you now so then you’ll jump to the next guy who can fuck you open in whatever place you want, huh?” Your hole fluttered, practically begging him to put something inside, but he only dragged his finger up to your clit to tease you there too. “Fucking needy girl. Who else you wanna fuck? Another friend of mine?”
“Only you,” you finally said, hips rubbing in his long rough fingers looking for more. “Swear only you,” you admitted sweetly.
“I don’t believe you now.”
“Swear— I swear,” you nodded frivolously, voice broken. “Only yours, I’m only yours, baby.”
Baby.
You were a manipulative horny bitch.
Jungkook hated how much he could love you.
“Yea’ that’s right. Just mine.”
Before you knew it he was putting you down the desk and turning you around. Then suddenly pressed you down until your chest was flush against the desk. Skirt rolled up to your hips, cheek pressed to the cold wood. He got rid of your panties really quickly, bringing them up to his nose to inhale your sweet juices. It made his cock harden even more, pre cum leaking.
His fingers quickly found his way to your hot cunt, fingering you really roughly, intensifying his thrusts to hear you yelp in pain under him.
“Need me to stretch out that tight hole, get you ready for a real cock,” he muttered. “Or not?. Maybe needy whores like you don’t need this, right? Should fucked you dry the moment I closed that door.”
It didn't take long for him to replace his fingers with his cock.
In one hard and fast motion he was inside you. Jungkook didn’t care whether you were struggling to take him right, didn’t care whether your sultry cunt was bulging with the size of him already. He only wanted to make you feel him, to make you suffer a little for all the shit you made him go through.
Jungkook slid his fat cock until it was barely in your cunt, mushroom tip caught by the suctioning ring of muscle inside of you. Then he bottomed out, fucking you a little faster.
“Mmh,” you whined. Eyes filling with tears by the way he was fucking you. “Jungkook—”
“Shut up and take it,” his thrusts were precise and sharp, big cock stretching out your cunt to his size. “Sweet pussy made for me. Wanted me to keep you like this, right?” He slammed harder into you. “Need to keep you like this so you won’t go spreading your legs to anyone who gives you a little bit of attention.”
“Nghh…” He hit one spot that made you finally sob in pleasure. Jungkook smiled, hitting it again and again until you were crying, “w-wait, wait—”
His cock was thick and hot, stretching you open with every slow, deliberate roll of his hips, and you were shaking underneath him, thighs trembling, breath hitching into little broken sobs. He continued fucking you so deep and hard it was making your legs shook in pleasure and back arched in need.
Too much, it was too much. You could feel the high building slowly in your tummy.
Your hands searched for his leg, your hips moving closer to the desk so you could pull away from him just for a second of how intense it was becoming everything.
“F-fuck, yes, yes,” he exhaled hard through his nose.
Jungkook didn’t let you.
He grabbed your hands with one of his, pressing it to your back. His other hand quickly moving your right leg on top of the desk so he could fuck you deeper. You cried out when he slammed harder into you. “Kook—”
“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”
His weight dropped, his chest pressing to you back to keep you in place. His hips snapped forward harder than before, burying every last inch so deep your eyes rolled and your mouth fell open on a silent scream.
“I’m not letting you go ever again,” he muttered, voice rougher now. “You’re gonna take it. Isn’t that what you wanted? I’ll keep you like this every fucking minute, so full of me you won’t be able to think about anyone else.”
“S’ too much, Jungkook.” You sobbed. “Please, p-please too much.”
He didn’t care. He just wanted to show you he can and will fuck you dumb. That he will make you like this everytime you think about leaving him ever again. Every time you think about the possibility of seeing another man.
Shit. That thought just pissed him off even more.
“Say you’re mine.”
“I’m yours, i’m y-yours.”
So dumb. You were getting so stupid for his cock it made his chest filled with pride.
Jungkook knew you could have anyone you wanted. He knew you could find an asshole who could treat you better and give you more time than his demanding career allowed him. But he was greedy, he didn’t want you to find someone else. Jungkook was better than any other guy anyway, he loved you more, he treat you nicely, he fucked you deeper, spread you wider on his fat cock. He was the only one for you.
But he needed you to think that too.
“Tell me you’re my girl,” his voice was softer this time, even if he was fucking you roughly. “Tell me that you love me.”
You obeyed, sputtering the words back as your cunt squished around him. Jungkook didn’t know if you were conscious enough to be aware of what were you saying or if you even meant it— but it was enough for him.
But then you said it.
“‘m sorry,” you whispered, rolling your hips to suck his cock deeper in your drooling cunt. Not becuase you felt like it but becuase you wanted to show him you could take him even in that dumb state of mind, show him how good you were behaving for him
Jungkook let a long sigh, slowly feeling a little less angrier than before.
You were still his. He knew it.
“Fuck you,” he barked with not real hurt behind it “Knew you were trouble. Should’ve stayed away from you.”
“Nghh…” He rolled his hips. Grinding drag outward that emptied your head completely. He felt that shift inside him, you felt the thick drag of his cock against your walls, and your cunt clenched greedily around him. “You’re mine too.”
“W-what?,” his hips stuttered.
“Y-you’re mine too.”
“Oh,” he said softly, like that answered something. “Greedy girl. Always want everything to be yours.”
“Kook,” you whined.
“There you go,” he murmured, starting to move faster again. Deep, rolling thrusts. perfect full thrusts, each one pushing the air out of you on the way in. You felt every vein, every inch, your slick making it obscenely loud in the small closet. “taking me s’ well, aren’t yeah?”
“Kook, say it,” you cried out again.
Jungkook didn’t want to. He didn’t want to give up so easily. He knew you knew he was head over heels for you. He knew you were just doing this to watch him become a pathetic man of himself for you. You knew he was yours, he was completely and ridiculously yours. He would cut his fingers and shot himself in the head if it wasn’t that way. But he hated how much power you had over him. Hated how you could make a mess out of him with some pretty words and those sweet eyes.
He hated you— No, no he didn’t— He loved you. He loved you so much it was pathetic.
Pathetic. So pathetic by the fact he was trying to show you he was better than his best friend so you wouldn’t leave him.
One big hand slide up, covered your mouth completely. His palm warm, fingers splayed wide so your muffled whimpers vibrated right into his skin. He didn’t squeeze, didn’t hurt you— just hold you, kept every word and every needy little sound locked behind his hand while he started fucking you in long, punishing strokes.
Two fingers found your clit immediately: swollen, oversensitive, throbbing and he didn’t tease you, just rubbed firm, tight circles.
Your whole body jerked under him, back arching uselessly because there was nowhere to go. He was too heavy, too deep, too everywhere. Your cunt clamped down so hard he groaned, low and wrecked— and his rhythm stuttered for half a second before he fucked you even harder.
“Mmphmm.”
“Uh?,” Jungkook moaned in your ear. “Shit, takin’ me so well, pretty girl. Gonna fill you up. Make you full of myself.” He pressed a hand in your tummy, making you both feel how deep he was. You cried out at the feeling. “Gonna make you walk with my cum inside you every place we go— shit, yea. Like that? squeezing s’ tight.” Jungkook was gone, mumbling words he didn’t even realize he was saying. Your cunt feeling so good around him it was making him go dumb too. “F-fuck, fuck… gonna keep this pussy full of my cum so when— when you open your legs for another man he’ll see who you fucking belong to.”
You could only sob into his hand, nodding frantically, thighs quivering, toes curling, whole body wound so tight you thought you might break.
You shattered so hard your vision whited out for two seconds, back bowing slightly, cunt spasming violently around his length while you sobbed silently into his palm. He didn’t stop fucking you through it. He kept that same brutal pace, drawing it out until you were limp and twitching and almost drooling against his hand.
His orgasm didn’t take too long to arrive after yours, He came hot inside your folds, thick ropes of cum all inside you. And it was so good that he wanted to cry, filling you up, making you his again. He continued fucking you through his high, didn’t let any of his cum go to waste and fucked himself deep inside you.
His cock sore and softening inside you, cum dribbling onto your nub and painting your cunt with his load. It felt sticky and dirty. But it was his.
The overstimulation hit like a freight train and you were crying into his palm, tears slipping down your temples, thighs trying to snap shut but his weigh kept you spread wide.
Jungkook moved his hand from your mouth to your jaw, still on top of you in that desk, he tilted your head to press his lips on yours. A uncomfortable position but he didn’t care, he just wanted to kiss you badly. He kissed you deeper like he wanted to engraved himself on you. He was desperate to keep you there with him, to keep you forever. He wanted to keep you in that moment forever, afraid of letting you go.
“Mine,” he said one last time.
He rolled his hips one las time, just once, slow, hard and deep, making sure you felt every inch of him in inside you. Just to remind you who was the one who got you like that, spread for him. And just to remind you he was yours too.
↳ summary: ten years of platonic safety, completely incinerated over cold kitchen marble. a frantic morning-after argument about a drunken confession turns into a dangerous game of chicken. you think you're being the smart one, desperately trying to protect a decade-long friendship from total wreckage—until a single, devastating kiss proves that neither of you can afford to stay just friends anymore.
↳ friends to lovers!au;
↳ pairing: idol!jeongguk x f!reader
↳ warnings: shameless smut, heavy praise and unprotected oral. features a completely undone, whiny, and pathetically submissive jeongguk who is brought entirely to his knees, begging for a taste before fucking you through his own overstimulation. brace yourselves........ :)
↳ word count: 13.1 k
a/n: this is actually my first ever request. here is the the original ask! the person who requested didn't reply anymore, so i took it upon myself to just run with it—yay for creative freedom and what not. hopefully i delivered question mark?
i’m a bit anxious about this ngl since it is a bit out of my comfort area so please lmk your thoughts :')
we absolutely love subkoo propaganda in this house. though i must admit, i could've made him even more sub, but baby steps am i right?
—
ONE SHOT
STARRING JEONGGUK
You’re very good at making bad decisions.
You and Jeongguk have been friends for a very long time. Platonic friends, of course. The kind of bond forged in the messy, unfiltered trenches of youth long before the rest of the world decided he belonged to them.
You remember every single time he’s been there for you, steady as an anchor. He was the one who sat on the kitchen counter at three in the morning, quietly listening to you cry over a brutal breakup, holding the pint of melting ice cream while you ranted. He was the one who dragged his exhausted body out of bed in the dead of winter just to jump-start your dead car battery, completely uncomplaining as his hands turned bright red in the freezing air. When you failed that massive university exam, he didn't offer empty platitudes; he just showed up at your door with a bag of cheap convenience store snacks and your favorite video game, sitting in silence with you until the heavy cloud in your chest lifted.
And you’ve been there for him just as fiercely. You were the one who held his hair back in a cramped, dimly lit bathroom after he drank way too much at a party, rubbing his back while he muttered pathetic apologies. You were the one who helped him pack up his entire life into mismatched cardboard boxes when he finally left his small hometown, taping the edges shut while he nervously paced the room. You even let him experiment on you with a box of cheap, questionable hair dye on a random Tuesday, resulting in a green-stained forehead and a frantic midnight run to a 24-hour pharmacy, laughing so hard your stomachs ached in the fluorescent aisles.
However, you didn't take into account that he would get famous at some point. Obviously, he had all the cards to do so, you weren't blind.
He’s attractive. He’s sweet. He has a good heart that bleeds through everything he touches.
And then there are the physical realities you've forced yourself to ignore for years. He has impeccable, impeccable hands—veiny, strong, and large enough to completely swallow yours. He has a fiercely toned body, hardened by years of relentless dance practice and gym sessions, a sharp contrast to the gentle soul inside him. And, of course, those sweet, round eyes you melt for every single time he looks up at you, completely disarming whatever defenses you try to build.
So when he texted you saying he was back home for a little while before heading out on the massive world tour again, of course you said yes.
Why would you not? He was your best friend.
Except you completely forgot that during his brief stints of downtime, Jeongguk had a tendency to pick up hyper-fixated new hobbies. Which is exactly how you found yourself standing in the doorway of his private garage, completely frozen.
He was entirely underneath the chassis of a sleek, vintage car, legs sprawling out across the concrete floor. He was straining against a stubborn bolt, and the physical effort caused his dark t-shirt to ride up drastically, exposing a wide strip of his lower abdomen.
Your eyes trapped themselves right there, staring directly at his happy trail. It was a sharp, dark line of hair cutting perfectly across his toned stomach, disappearing straight into the low waistband of his grey sweatpants.
Avert your gaze? Maybe you should. You absolutely had to.
Instead, a stray, dangerous thought crossed your mind, wondering exactly where that trail led and if it really was a happy place. You would certainly guess so, taking into account the sheer volume of women who willingly flung themselves at him daily on global television.
Jeongguk, meanwhile, was acutely aware of the shift in the room's atmosphere the second you walked in. From his vantage point beneath the metal frame, he heard your footsteps halt. He could feel the phantom heat of your eyes burning into his exposed skin. His heart did a violent flip in his chest, his fingers tightening around his wrench. He purposely stayed still for a beat longer than necessary, his breath hitching, secretly thrilled by the weight of your undivided attention.
To break the suffocating silence, you finally spoke, semi-yelling over the clinking of his tools, "Yo! Koo, what the fuck are you doing?"
Hearing your voice, Jeongguk finally kicked against the floor, sliding himself out from under the car on his mechanic's creeper.
When he fully emerged, the sight of him made your throat go completely dry. He had grease smudged across his jaw, a dirty shirt clinging to his frame, and a sweaty forehead. A few moist, dark hair strands were sticking directly to his skin, and the tiny silver hoop of his lip piercing glinted sharply in the garage lighting.
You gulped. Hard. Maybe it was just because you hadn't seen him in a while, or maybe it was because the platonic shield you usually wore was rapidly cracking to pieces.
Jeongguk blinked up at you, tracking the slight bob of your throat as you swallowed. A quiet wave of satisfaction washed over him, melting his internal nerves into something warm and soft. He let his head fall back slightly, looking up at you through his lashes with the sweetest, most innocent smile he could muster.
"Hi," he replied softly, his voice a low, raspy rumble that did absolutely nothing to help your racing pulse.
He laughed, a bright, breathless sound, and stepped toward you with his arms wide open. It was clear he wanted nothing more than to throw his arms around you after being separated by a massive ocean for months, but you immediately took a sharp step back, hands raised in a defensive barrier.
"Don't even think about it," you warned, eyeing the black grease smudged across his arms. "I am not getting engine oil all over my clothes."
Jeongguk paused, his arms still half-extended, his lips pouting into a familiar, dramatic frown. "So?" he asked, tilting his head with an entitled little whine. "It's just a shirt. I haven't seen you in forever."
Before you could reiterate that you actually liked your outfit, he reached down, gripped the hem of his dark t-shirt, and pulled it over his head in one fluid, practiced motion. Your breath caught awkwardly in your throat. Now, the toned lines of his chest and abdomen were fully on display, glistening with a light sheen of sweat under the garage lights. He didn't even seem to notice your sudden internal panic as he casually crumpled the expensive fabric into a ball, using it as a makeshift rag to roughly wipe the grease off his hands.
Tossing the ruined shirt onto a nearby tool stool, he stepped right back into your space. "Better?" he murmured, a cheeky, triumphant grin spreading across his face before he locked his bare, warm arms securely around your waist, pulling you flush against him.
You let out a defeated sigh, but you didn't pull away. You hugged him back, burying your face against the warm crook of his shoulder, the familiar, comforting scent of him cutting right through the sharp smell of gasoline and metal.
If you were being 100% honest with yourself, you did have a crush on him. You had been harboring a crush on him for a very long time.
You just never vocalized it. To you, it was always safer to remain a constant, unshakeable variable in his chaotic life rather than risk ruining something so irreplaceable. All of his past relationships had eventually crashed and burned, a pattern that only grew worse once global fame started violently colliding with his love life and relentless schedules. You had absolutely no intention of losing Jeongguk to a stupid, juvenile crush you’d developed nearly ten years ago—all because he’d sweetly given you his last cherry popsicle on a scorching summer afternoon.
Jeongguk squeezed you a little tighter before finally releasing you, though his hands lingered on your arms for a beat too long. "I want to throw a party tonight," he announced, his round eyes shining with genuine excitement as he swiped a damp strand of hair from his forehead. "Just like old times. I want to actually have fun without a million eyes on me."
You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. "Oh? Tell me about it. Who are we inviting?"
"Only old friends," he said instantly, his tone turning protective. "Nobody new. Nobody with a hidden motive or a vendetta. Just the people who knew me before... all of this."
You smirked, a teasing glint in your eyes as you nudged his bare shoulder. "What, so you didn't bring any international flings home with you in first class?"
Jeongguk let out a self-deprecating laugh, shaking his head as he ran a hand through his messy hair. "No way. I'm going girl-sober for a while. Women completely fuck up my senses."
He wasn't lying, and you knew it. Jeongguk was a hopeless, unapologetic serial romantic. He was a boy who loved with his entire soul, completely incapable of doing anything casual even if his life depended on it. It was his ultimate Achilles' heel. He wore his heart so openly on his sleeve, entirely defenseless, and people always seemed to have other, more transactional plans for it.
"Girl-sober, huh?" you echoed, trying to ignore the sudden, dangerous flutter in your stomach at his words. "Let's see how long that actually lasts."
"Oh, it will last," Jeongguk said, his tone dropping into a quieter, more deliberate register as he looked down at you. "You'll make sure of it."
You blinked, momentarily losing your train of thought as your eyes tracked a stray bead of sweat rolling down his collarbone. "Pardon?"
"You’re the only one I can trust with my heart right now," he explained smoothly, a completely earnest, unguarded look washing over his features. He stepped a fraction closer, the heat radiating off his bare chest practically enveloping you. "So, yes. You. Making sure no one is hurting your super hot friend."
Your knees almost buckled right there on the oil-stained concrete.
Super hot?
Did he just casually drop that into conversation like he hadn't spent the last ten years being your dorky, platonic sidekick? Before you could even formulate a coherent response, Jeongguk caught the sudden shock on your face. A playful, slightly teasing glint sparked in his dark eyes, his lips tilting up at the corners.
"Am I not?" he challenged softly, tilting his head as if genuinely waiting for your assessment.
You swallowed hard, your mind scrambling to put the platonic walls back up before he noticed how fast your heart was beating. "I plead the fifth."
Jeongguk let out a breathy, dramatic groan, throwing his head back before looking down at you through his lashes. "God, Y/N, you’re so dramatic. I can openly say you’re hot."
Your brain completely short-circuited. "Sorry?"
"What?" He shrugged his shoulders, completely unfazed by the bomb he’d just dropped in the middle of his garage. "It’s not like it’s federal information. You’re attractive, I’m attractive. You should be able to speak open truths."
You gulped again, the sound loud in your own ears as you looked anywhere but at the hard lines of his chest. "Fine," you grumbled, forcing the words past your lips like a confession under interrogation. "You’re hot. Happy?"
Jeongguk’s playful smirk instantly vanished, replaced by a dramatic, exaggerated pout. He whined, the sound high and petulant, as he crossed his arms over his chest. "No, see? Now I don't even want it anymore if you don't actually believe it."
You let out a sharp scoff, throwing your hands up in disbelief. "Where the hell is that coming from?"
"I'm serious," he insisted, his voice dropping into a quieter, more vulnerable register. He stepped a fraction closer, his shoes almost touching the tips of yours. He looked down at you, completely stripped of his usual idol persona. "I don't want you to say things just because I want to hear them. I have enough people in my life for that,Y/N. Millions of them. I don't need it from you."
The sudden, raw honesty of his words hit you like a physical weight. You looked up, meeting his gaze, and swear his eyes just got ten times more sparkly and round, shimmering with a sudden, intense vulnerability.
He was practically vibrating with the unspoken urge to be perceived, truly perceived, by the only person whose opinion actually mattered to him.
The platonic armor you’d spent so long building suddenly felt paper-thin. You let out a soft sigh, reaching out to gently tap his bare chest, right over his racing heart.
"Jeongguk," you said, your voice softening, holding his gaze so he knew you meant it. "You're hot. I'm not just saying it."
The second the words left your mouth, the heavy tension broke. A massive, radiant grin split across his face, his eyes crinkling at the corners into those familiar, endearing crescent shapes.
"Thank you," he sang out in a sweet, sing-song voice, practically beaming as he swayed his shoulders from side to side like a praised toddler. The transition from a brooding, shirtless man to a needy, praise-hungry boy was so fast it made your head spin, leaving you entirely at the mercy of whatever games he was playing with your heart.
You spent the whole afternoon prepping for the said party. You were beyond glad for his shiny black card, which you used with zero remorse. It could buy the good alcohol—the top-shelf stuff his agency normally rationed him on—along with an obscene mountain of incredible snacks that you knew you would half-demolish before the guests even knocked on the door. You had bags of high-end chips, imported chocolates, and savory finger foods piled high on his marble kitchen counters, casually stealing a handful of pretzels every time you walked by.
His apartment was massive, but it was also quite dark. He had a penchant for heavy, blackout curtains and moody industrial architecture, and you laughed a ton when you tried to string up some extra LED lights around the living room and hallways. You muttered to yourself while balancing on a stool, desperately trying to ensure people wouldn't step on each other's toes in the pitch-black tomb of his very boy-coded apartment.
It was a chaotic mix of state-of-the-art gaming rigs, massive speakers, random workout equipment in the corner, and a giant plush couch that screamed bachelor pad.
His bedroom, however, was strictly off-limits. Locked and closed for the public.
As you passed the heavy wood door on your way to the bathroom, you paused. You hadn't been inside his room in a long way, and your mind naturally began to wander, curiosity pricking at your chest. You started to wonder how it had changed from the last time you were there, back when it was just a messy pile of clothes and a mattress on the floor. Now, as even a more famous star than he was at the start, did he have silk sheets? A massive canopy bed?
More dangerously, you started to wonder what women had seen those sheets. Which faces had looked up at him in the dark?
At last, you forcefully pushed the burning thought aside, shaking your head to clear the sudden spike of jealousy. It didn't matter. You had a job to do, and besides, the guests were finally starting to arrive.
The heavy front door clicked open, and the quiet tomb of his apartment was instantly flooded with chatter and laughter as his oldest childhood friends spilled into the entryway. Jeongguk was already standing by the kitchen island, the grease long washed from his skin, replaced by a soft, oversized black sweater and a fresh scent. He’d clearly been anticipating the social buffering, because by the time the first three people crossed the threshold, Jeongguk had already thrown back two heavy shots of tequila.
His round eyes were already bright and crinkling with a loose, alcohol-fueled warmth.
Throwing his hands into the air, his silver lip piercing catching the glow of the newly strung lights, he yelled at the top of his lungs, "Welcome, party people!"
The room erupted into cheers, his friends rushing forward to swarm him, throwing arms around his broad shoulders and pulling him into a chaotic huddle of loud greetings and deep belly laughs. From across the room, you leaned against the kitchen counter, watching him instantly dissolve back into the boy he used to be, completely shielded from the crushing weight of his global fame by the people who loved him first.
The party shifted into high gear with the easy, unpretentious noise of people who had nothing to prove to each other. In the hazy glow of the blue and purple lights, the living room felt less like a celebrity’s multi-million dollar fortress and more like a time capsule.
"I’m just saying," Jin-woo, one of Jeongguk’s oldest friends from his hometown, gestured wildly with a half-eaten chip, "If a zombie apocalypse happens right now, Koo is the first to die. He’s too polite. He’d try to bow to a zombie before kicking it."
"No way!" Jeongguk protested, his voice a little too loud, a little too slurred as he leaned heavily against the back of the plush couch. He poured himself another shot of tequila, his hand shaking just enough that a few drops splashed onto his knuckles. "I have muscle memory now. I’d do a 360-kick. Boom. Dead zombie."
"You'd cry if you got blood on your designer shoes," you chimed in from the kitchen island, swirling the ice cubes in your cup.
Jeongguk’s head snapped toward you instantly. His sweet, round eyes were heavily hooded, a dark, glossy sheen over them as he tracked your movement. A soft, lazy smile spread across his face, his silver lip piercing catching the strobe of the lights. "Y/N... you’re supposed to be on my side. Always."
"I am on your side. I'm just realistic," you laughed, taking a slow sip.
You were barely on your second glass of vodka cranberry, the tart liquid still mostly full as you paced yourself. You had to. Someone needed to keep an eye on the house, and more importantly, someone needed to keep an eye on him.
Jeongguk, on the other hand, was throwing them back like water. The pressure of the upcoming tour, the suffocating nature of his daily life—it was all bleeding out of him in the form of liquid courage. He was drinking to forget the idol.
An hour later, the loud, stupid arguments dissolved into the inevitable late-night deep talk. Three of his friends were sprawled on the floor, debating the existence of aliens, while Jin-woo had moved onto the balcony for a smoke.
Jeongguk somehow navigated his way over to you, his shoulders bumping into yours as he leaned heavily against the kitchen counter. He smelled like expensive cologne and sharp alcohol.
"You're barely drinking," he murmured, his voice dropping into that low, raspy rumble that always made your stomach do backflips. He reached out, his large hand wrapping around your wrist, his thumb casually brushing against your pulse point. His touch was warm, heavy, and intentionally lingering.
"Someone has to make sure you don't break your own furniture," you teased gently, though your heart was suddenly hammering against your ribs. "How many shots is that now? Five? Six?"
"Doesn't matter," he whispered, stepping a fraction closer, completely ignoring the chatter of his friends just twenty feet away. He looked down at you, his large eyes shimmering under the dim kitchen lights. "Everything feels... too loud out there, Y/N. But when I look at you, it stops."
Your breath hitched.
"Jeongguk, you're drunk," you whispered back, trying to maintain the boundary, trying not to let your ten-year-old crush completely take over.
"I am," he admitted softly, his grip on your wrist tightening just a fraction as he leaned his forehead down, almost touching your shoulder. It was that physical surrender again—putting himself entirely in your space, begging you without words to hold him together. "But I'm only brave when the sun goes down. You know that. Stay 'til sunrise. Please."
"Fine," you sighed, trying to ignore the frantic pounding in your chest as you gently patted his broad, sweater-clad shoulder. "But you’re taking the couch tonight, Koo. I’m not carrying you anywhere."
A soft, breathy laugh left his throat, and before you could even brace yourself, Jeongguk leaned in. He pressed his lips firmly against your temple, a lingering, warm pressure that smelled faintly of tequila and mint. "Thank you," he murmured against your skin, a string of another quiet, drunken thank yous spilling out of his mouth as he finally pulled back.
You stood there, entirely frozen, your brain struggling to process how to function normally. Those sweet, tactile gestures of his had remained exactly the same over the last decade. It was just a temple kiss. It was the kind of thing he’d done a hundred times when you were younger, yet now, with his shoulders framing you and his deep voice vibrating in his chest, it rattled you down to your very core.
Before you could spiral any further into your own head, Hana—one of Jin-woo’s louder cousins who had tagged along—yelled from the living room floor, clapping her hands together to get everyone's attention.
"Hey! Enough with the alien talk," Hana shouted, swirling the ice in her cup. "We should play something actually fun. Like truth or dare... or better yet, truth or drink!"
The room instantly erupted into murmurs of agreement, but nobody moved faster than Jeongguk. His face lit up, his round eyes wide and sparkling under the blue LED's as he practically jumped at the opportunity to drink more.
"Truth or drink," Jeongguk cheered, his voice loose and excited as he pushed off the kitchen counter. He grabbed the half-empty bottle of top-shelf tequila by the neck, giving you a quick, triumphant look over his shoulder. "Yes. Let's do it. I'm choosing drink every single damn time, I don't care."
He stumbled slightly as he made his way to the center of the room, dropping heavily onto the plush rug right in the middle of the circle, looking up at everyone like a kid waiting for a game to start. He was already so completely undone, and as you walked over to join the circle with your barely touched vodka cranberry, a sudden, heavy wave of anticipation settled deep in your stomach.
You knew exactly how Jeongguk played games when he was like this. He was honest to a fault, but tonight, with the alcohol running warm through his veins he might start being too honest.
The bottle of tequila sat right in the center of the hardwood floor, spinning rapidly under the flashing lights until it slowed down, its neck pointing directly at Jin-woo.
"Alright, alright," Jin-woo grinned, leaning forward on his knees. He looked across the circle at Jeongguk, who was sitting cross-legged, a little loopy, swaying slightly to the music. "Koo. First round. Truth or drink. What is the absolute worst thing about being a global superstar? Give us the real dirt."
You expected Jeongguk to reach for his cup immediately. His agency spent millions of dollars training him to handle questions like this with perfectly polished, diplomatic answers. Instead, Jeongguk just let out a soft, hazy laugh, his eyes dropping to his hands.
"The loneliness," he said, the sheer honesty of his voice cutting right through the lighthearted party atmosphere. The circle went quiet. Jeongguk looked up, his round eyes wide and entirely undisguised by his usual idol armor. "You think you're surrounded by the world, but when the stage lights go off, you're just sitting alone in a sterile hotel room in a country where you don't speak the language, wondering if anyone actually misses you, or if they just miss the guy on the posters. It's suffocating."
A collective, sympathetic hum went around the room. Jin-woo blinked, clearly not expecting him to drop something so heavy in the first five minutes. You felt a familiar twist of pain in your chest, your eyes softening as you looked at him. Jeongguk didn't take a sip, he just gave a tiny, vulnerable shrug, completely comfortable laying his soul bare in front of the people who knew him before the fame.
Hana spun the bottle next. It whirled around before grinding to a halt, pointing straight back at Jeongguk.
"Oh, my turn," Hana perked up, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Okay, Jeongguk. You said earlier today that you're 'girl-sober' right now. So tell the truth: when was the last time you actually kissed someone, and did it mean anything?"
You held your breath, your fingers tightening around your glass of vodka cranberry.
Jeongguk tilted his head back against the edge of the couch behind him, a slow, lazy smile spreading across his face. He didn't even reach for the tequila bottle. "Two years ago," he stated bluntly, his voice a low, raspy rumble. "A girl I met during a break between promotions. And no, it didn't mean anything. That was the problem. I tried to make it mean something because I hate casual stuff, but she just wanted to tell her friends she was dating an idol. It felt transactional. I hated it."
"Damn," Hana muttered, taking a drink of her own beer out of pure secondhand awkwardness. "You're really not holding back tonight, are you?"
"I told you," Jeongguk murmured, his dark, glossy eyes suddenly shifting across the circle until they locked directly onto yours. "I don't want to say fake things tonight. I'm tired of it."
Before the heavy silence following Jeongguk’s sudden drink can completely suffocate the room, Jin-woo quickly reaches out and gives the glass bottle another aggressive spin. It whirs sharply on the hardwood floor, a blur of green glass under the flashing blue lights, before slowing down and pointing its cap directly at you.
"Oh, finally! The spotlight shifts," Hana cheers, leaning forward on her elbows with a wicked, deeply intrigued grin. She doesn't hesitate for a second. "Okay, Y/N. Truth or drink. We all know you're fiercely independent in your daily life, but does that translate to the bedroom? Are you the type who likes to be completely in charge, calling all the shots, or do you prefer to submit?"
Your heart does a violent, erratic leap against your ribs. Out of the corner of your eye, you feel Jeongguk freeze.
You slowly turn your head to look at him, and the sheer intensity of his gaze almost makes you gasp. His sweet, round eyes are completely dark, his pupils blown so wide they nearly swallow the irises. He’s staring at your lips, his chest heaving under his oversized black sweater, practically vibrating with a sudden, suffocating hunger. He looks entirely undone by the question, his lips parting slightly as he waits for your answer with a desperate, breathless anticipation.
You clear your throat, forcing your voice to remain steady. "I think prefer being in charge," you reply, keeping it blunt and confident. "I like the feeling of control."
A low, collective “Ooooooh” ripples through the circle of friends, but you barely hear them. The absolute heat of Jeongguk’s unblinking stare is burning into your skin, making your throat go completely dry. Even though you answered the truth, you desperately need a distraction, so you lift your glass of vodka cranberry and take a heavy, long sip, letting the tart alcohol burn away the sudden spike of nerves.
"Knew it!" Hana laughs loudly, raising her cup to you in approval. "A total boss. Honestly, whoever ends up in your bed is a lucky bastard."
Hana grabs the bottle next, giving it a careless flick to keep the game moving. It spins and lands right back on her. Jin-woo immediately jumps in with a smirk. "Alright, Hana, truth or drink: Is it true you secretly cried when your ex got a matching tattoo with his new girlfriend?" Hana gasps, throwing a couch pillow directly at his face before grabbing her beer. "Shut up! I'm drinking, I am absolutely drinking for that one," she groans, chugging a massive gulp while everyone erupts into loud, teasing laughter.
The distraction gives you a brief moment to breathe, but when you glance back at Jeongguk, he hasn't moved an inch. He is still looking up at you from his spot on the floor, his silver lip piercing glinting.
The bottle gets spun again, whirring lazily until it grinds to a halt, pointing directly at another childhood friend, Jisung.
Jisung groans, rubbing the back of his neck. "Ah, man. Go easy on me. I've had a rough week."
Seojun leans forward, a thoughtful expression replacing his usual mischievous grin as the atmosphere shifts back into something a bit deeper. "Alright, Jisung. Real talk. Truth or drink: Since we're all getting older and life is pulling us in different directions, do you ever feel like you're getting left behind by the rest of us?"
Jisung sighs, a sad, honest smile touching his lips as he looks around the circle, his eyes briefly lingering on Jeongguk’s massive, luxurious apartment. "Yeah," Jisung admits softly, his voice quiet against the background music. "Sometimes it's hard. Like, I'm so incredibly proud of Koo, and I love seeing all of you succeed, but looking at my own nine-to-five... it makes me feel like I'm standing still while everyone else is running. It's a weird kind of pressure."
"Dude, no," Jeongguk speaks up instantly, his raspy voice full of genuine affection. He leans forward, completely breaking the circle's boundary to grab Jisung’s shoulder, squeezing it tightly with his hand. "Don't ever think that. None of this fame stuff matters if I don't have you guys to come home to. You're not left behind. You're exactly where you need to be."
Jisung smiles, visibly touched, and raises his glass to clink it against Jeongguk's tequila bottle. The warmth of their old friendship fills the room, but as Jeongguk pulls his hand back, his dark, heavy eyes slide right back to yours.
The rest of the party continued in a hazy blur of slurred words, loud, nostalgic belly laughs, and increasingly messy drinking. By the time the clock crawled past three in the morning, the high-energy atmosphere had completely dissolved. The final straw came when Jisung, looking pale and thoroughly defeated by the alcohol, stumbled toward the entryway and nearly threw up directly into a massive, expensive indoor plant pot.
Jin-woo caught him by the back of his jacket just in time. That was officially everyone's cue to leave.
There was a chaotic fifteen minutes of shuffling feet, mumbled thank-yous, and heavy slaps on shoulders as you helped herd his childhood friends out into the hallway. When the heavy front door finally clicked shut, the sudden, absolute silence of the multi-million dollar apartment felt deafening.
You turned back toward the living room, only to find Jeongguk dragging his feet across the hardwood floor. True to his word from earlier, he was clutching a plush, oversized pillow under one arm and trailing a heavy, dark duvet behind him, preparing to claim the sofa.
He was so incredibly drunk. His broad shoulders were slouched under his black sweater, his movements completely uncoordinated. As he tried to navigate around the low coffee table, his knee clipped the edge, causing him to stumble awkwardly. His hand shot out to steady himself, almost knocking an empty highball glass clean off the wood surface.
"Whoa, easy there," you murmured, quickly stepping into his space. You grabbed the glass before it could shatter, setting it safely aside, and then crouched down slightly to match his eye level as he heavily dropped his weight onto the edge of the cushions. "Koo... look at you. I think you should actually just take the bed tonight. I can sleep out here."
Jeongguk immediately gestured a clumsy, emphatic no with his hand, shaking his head so hard a few strands of dark hair fell into his face. The sudden movement clearly sent a wave of vertigo through him, because it was instantly followed by a pained, whispered, "Jesus..."as he tightly pressed his palm against his forehead, closing his eyes against the dim lights.
You cocked a brow at him, amused but secretly melting at how soft and defenseless he looked when the tough idol persona was stripped away entirely. "See? You can barely hold your head up. Go to your room, Jeongguk."
"No," he rasped, his voice incredibly deep and thick with sleep and alcohol. He slowly dropped his hand from his face, lifting his head to look up at you through his thick lashes. His sweet, round eyes were heavily hooded, wide and shimmering with some sort of vulnerability. "Don't go yet. Let's... let's talk for a while. I missed you. I missed you so much, Y/N."
Your heart did a violent, erratic hammer against your chest at the sheer desperation in his tone. It was a direct plea, completely unguarded.
Despite the warning bells screaming in your head about your decade-long crush, you found yourself complying. You let out a soft breath and sat down right next to him on the couch, the plush cushions sinking under your weight as his heavy, warm presence instantly enveloped you in the quiet dark.
The moment you settled onto the cushion, his heavy head fell sideways, landing directly on your shoulder. You were instantly engulfed by his scent. It was a fragrance so deeply familiar to you, cutting right through the tequila-infused softness he had going on tonight.
Jeongguk always smelled incredibly clean. Over the years, you had grown to associate crispy, clean cotton smells with his smile. Whenever his brutal, tight schedules didn't allow him the time to text or call you for weeks on end, you had found a strange sort of reprieve in those scents—buying detergents or candles that smelled like fresh laundry just to feel like he wasn't entirely a world away.
He shifted against you, his cheek rubbing into the fabric of your shirt as the quiet apartment settled around you both. He noted the sudden, heavy silence in the room and tilted his head up just enough to look at your profile, his bottom lip pushing out into an almost childlike pout.
"Did not you miss me too?" he asked, his deep voice muffled against your neck, raw and terribly needy.
You couldn't help the soft smile that tugged at your lips. You turned your head slightly, your breath brushing over his hair. "Obviously, Koo. How could I not? You’re my best friend."
At the word friend, Jeongguk let out a low, vibration-heavy hum in his chest. It wasn't a happy sound. He closed his eyes, his brow furrowing as he tightly gripped a fistful of the dark duvet resting on his lap.
"I'm so confused," he whispered, the admission sounding small and cracked.
You blinked, shifting slightly so you could look down at his face. "Why?" you asked softly, your heart doing a nervous, anticipatory flutter against your ribs. "What's making you confused?"
"Because it should feel different," Jeongguk muttered, his voice dropping into a register so low and raspy it sent a physical shiver straight down your spine. He didn't lift his head from your shoulder. He just pressed closer, his warm breath seeping through the fabric of your shirt.
You grew thoroughly confused, your fingers tightening around the edge of the couch cushion. "What? What should feel different, Koo?"
He let out a ragged, heavy sigh, his chest expanding against your side. "Everything," he whispered. "I’ve been thinking for a while... that love, real romantic love, should feel at least as deep and all-consuming as the type of love I have for you."
The wind was completely knocked out of your lungs. For a terrifying second, you forgot how to breathe entirely. Your mind raced back over the last ten years, the late-night phone calls, the quiet domesticity of your friendship, and the heavy, burning crush you had tried so desperately to bury. You bit your lip hard, the sharp sting of pain the only thing keeping you grounded, in a desperate attempt to steady your trembling voice.
"Jeongguk," you breathed, your voice barely audible over the hum of the refrigerator in the quiet apartment. "What... what do you mean by that?"
He finally pulled his head back from your shoulder, shifting on the plush cushions so he could face you fully. He looked entirely undone by the alcohol and the sheer weight of his own thoughts. He started explaining with his hands, his long fingers cutting through the dim light. His intricate tattoos shifted across his skin, and the silver rings on his fingers glinted sharply in the dark as he gestured in frustration.
"I can't do casual, Y/N," he said, his eyes wide, glossy, and swimming with a desperate, heavy sensitivity. "I can't. Because I know how true love should feel. I know it because of you. Every single time I’ve tried to date, every time I’ve tried to build something with someone else, I find myself associating what I feel for them in comparison with you."
A beat.
Two beats.
Three beats.
The silence in the room became so heavy it was suffocating.
"And every single time," Jeongguk whispered, his head tilting down as he looked up at you through his lashes, completely stripping away his defenses and surrendering his heart right into your hands, "I’ve found that they always come short. In comparison with you."
You tried to diffuse the situation right then and there. Your brain was working in overdrive, frantically constructing walls because the alternative—believing him—meant stepping into a territory that could ruin everything you had built over the last years.
He was drunk. He was clearly not thinking straight. He was currently trying to be girl-sober, and in your mind, he was just projecting his deeply ingrained, serial monogamist tendencies onto the closest, safest thing he had. You.
It wasn’t true. It couldn't be true.
"Jeongguk," you said, your voice tight as you forced a breath into your lungs, desperately trying to ignore how loud your own heart was knocking against your ribs. "I think you’re just projecting. You're exhausted, you've been lonely on tour, and you're just confusing comfort for something else."
He muttered a low, ragged "Jesus..."again, his hand rising to tightly press against his forehead. He didn't even seem to fully process what you said, completely deaf to the frantic rhythm of your chest as the alcohol and the emotional weight of his own confession finally dragged him under.
The raw intensity in his eyes flickered out, replaced by heavy exhaustion. Without another word, he let his upper body slide sideways, his head plopping heavily onto the plush pillow he’d thrown on the edge of the couch.
He curled his body slightly into the cushions, his dark lashes fluttering shut as a deep, uneven breath left his parted lips, leaving you sitting there in the dim blue LED light, completely frozen next to him.
That’s when you realize his bedroom door was probably still locked, a solid block of wood protecting a room you weren't allowed to enter.
You had absolutely no option but to sleep on the couch next to him. Letting out a quiet, defeated breath, you grabbed the edge of the heavy, dark duvet he’d brought out, pulling it over both of your bodies to shield against the air conditioning. You shifted your weight, settling into the cushions as best you could, and tried to sleep.
It was impossible. Seven thousand thoughts were swirling in your mind, a chaotic storm of memory and denial.
But Jeongguk was drunk.
He was completely out of it, his deep, even breaths rising and falling against your side. He wouldn't remember this in the morning, you told yourself. Tomorrow, the sun would come up, the platonic armor would go back on, and he would just be your best friend again. You closed your eyes, letting the clean cotton scent of him anchor you as you finally drifted into a restless sleep, completely unaware of how thin the line between you had truly become.
But the next morning, he was nowhere to be seen.
When you finally opened your eyes, blinking against the harsh, bright sunlight piercing through the cracks of the heavy blackout curtains, the couch beside you was completely empty. You checked your phone—it was god knows what hour of the late morning—and the realization that you were alone in the vast, quiet space hit you like a cold splash of water. The heavy dark duvet was pulled back, the plush pillow still holding the indentation of his head, but Jeongguk was gone.
So naturally, you grew a bit anxious.
A tight, familiar knot formed in the pit of your stomach as you sat up, the silence of the multi-million dollar apartment suddenly feeling incredibly heavy. Your mind instantly began to scramble, racing back through the events of the previous night. You hoped with everything you had that he would just forget what he said last night. You prayed the tequila had completely wiped his memory, that the slurred confessions about true love and people coming up short in comparison to you would just evaporate into the morning air. If he forgot, everything could go back to normal. You could go back to being the constant, unshakeable variable in his life.
But then the darker, terrifying thoughts started to bleed in, turning your anxiety into full-blown panic.
What if he remembered? What if he woke up with a pounding headache and a crystal-clear recollection of every single word that had left his mouth? What if he was so thoroughly mortified, so repulsed by the fact that he had crossed that sacred platonic line and laid his soul bare, that he had physically chosen to flee his own home just to avoid looking you in the eye?
You stood up, your knees slightly shaky, your eyes darting toward the hallway. His bedroom door was still closed, but the heavy silence in the apartment made it feel like he had abandoned the entire place just to escape the mess he’d created in the dark.
That’s when you heard the faucet running.
The sharp, metallic hiss of rushing water cut through the suffocating silence of the apartment, drawing your attention toward the kitchen. Your heart skipped a beat, the knot of anxiety in your stomach loosening just a fraction, only to tighten again with a completely different kind of tension.
With small steps, your feet padding quietly against the cold hardwood floor, you made your way down the hall. Every single breath you took felt like lead, heavy and burning in your chest. You braced yourself for a tense, awkward confrontation, preparing to play off his drunken rambling as a massive joke.
Instead, you rounded the corner and saw him in all his glory, completely naked from the belt up.
The bright morning sunlight poured through the kitchen window, hitting the sharp, fiercely toned lines of his back and shoulders as he stood in front of the sink. He had a clean pair of grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips, exposing that dark, dangerous happy trail you’d been obsessing over the day before. His skin practically glistened, completely washed clean of the previous night's sweat and alcohol, and his dark, damp hair strands curled slightly around his nape. He was rinsing out a couple of mugs, hands moving with effortless, domestic grace.
As if sensing your presence, Jeongguk turned around.
There was no repulsion on his face. No awkwardness, no frantic desire to flee. Instead, his sweet, round eyes instantly crinkled at the corners, and a warm, lazy grin spread across his face, his silver lip piercing catching the morning light.
He greeted you in a sweet, entirely normal manner.
"Morning, sleepypants," he murmured, his voice a low, gravelly morning rumble that vibrated pleasantly in the quiet air. He set the mug down and gestured toward the espresso machine on the counter. "Coffee?"
You sit down awkwardly on one of the high barstools at the marble kitchen island, your hands folded in your lap as you nod your head. "Yes, please. Black is fine."
The silence stretches between you for a bit, heavy and thick on your end, though Jeongguk seems entirely unbothered as he presses a button on the espresso machine. The low whirring of the grinder fills the space, and the rich, dark scent of coffee begins to bloom in the air. Your mind is still a frantic mess of questions, the sheer weight of his shirtless torso in the bright morning light not helping your ability to think straight.
Unable to take the suspense any longer, you clear your throat. "Koo?"
He hums in response, not turning around just yet as he watches the dark liquid drip into the mugs, patiently waiting for you to continue.
You swallow hard, tracing a invisible line on the marble counter. "Do you... do you remember last night?"
Jeongguk freezes for a split second, his shoulders tensing just a fraction before he slowly turns around to face you. He leans back against the counter, crossing his tattooed arm over his bare chest, a totally blank, deadpan expression washing over his features.
"Last night?" he repeats, blinking his eyes with exaggerated confusion. He tilts his head, looking down at his own bare torso and then back up at you. "Wait... what year is it?"
You instantly catch onto the stupid joke, a rush of exasperated relief flooding your chest. You reach out, grabbing a random crumpled tissue you found sitting on the edge of the counter, and throw it straight at his face.
He ducks, but it clips his shoulder anyway. Jeongguk bursts into a loud, boxing-glove laugh, his eyes crinkling into those familiar, endearing crescents as the heavy tension in the room instantly evaporates.
"Yes," he says, his laughter dying down into a soft, knowing smile as he holds your gaze, his voice dropping back into that low morning cadence. "I remember last night, Y/N."
Your stomach drops straight through the floor. The relief you felt a second ago evaporates, replaced by a sudden, choking wave of heat that rises all the way to your face. You fumble with your words, your tongue feeling thick and clumsy as you try to form a coherent sentence.
"You—you remember?" you stammer, your hands nervously gripping the edge of the marble counter. "Then... what you said on the couch. Before you fell asleep. Did you... I mean, did you actually mean it?"
Jeongguk stays quiet for a while. The playful morning light suddenly feels too bright, too exposing. He doesn't move from where he’s leaning against the counter, but the easy grin vanishes from his face. He looks down at his feet, his throat bobbing as he swallows hard, his chest expanding with a deep, deliberate breath.
When he finally lifts his head, his eyes are dead serious, devoid of any tequila-induced haze.
"Yes," he says, his voice a low, steady vibration. "I meant it."
You blink, your chest tightening so fast it hurts. "What... what did you mean, Jeongguk? Exactly?"
"I meant what I meant," he mutters, his jaw clenching as he shifts his weight. He crosses his arms tighter over his bare chest, a defensive instinct kicking in as he tries to maintain his footing. He’s trying to stay casual, trying to play the enigmatic card, but the slight twitch in his silver lip piercing gives him away.
"Yes, but what does it mean?" you push, your voice cracking slightly out of frustration. You lean forward on the barstool, completely done with the riddles. "You don't get to drop a bomb like that, tell me everyone else comes short in comparison to me, and then just say 'I meant what I meant.' What does that mean for us, Jeongguk? What are you actually saying?"
Jeongguk stares at you, the silence stretching out between you like a taut wire. You can practically hear the furious looping in his head, the terrifying friction between the decade of friendship holding him back and the raw, suffocating desire to just stop hiding.
"It means exactly what you think it means, Y/N," he says defensively, his voice rising a fraction. "Why do I have to spell it out?"
"Because you were drunk!" you snap back, your own walls going up because you're terrified of getting your hopes destroyed. "Because people say crazy things when they've had six shots of tequila! You told me I'm the standard for your love life. Do you have any idea how insane that is to hear from your best friend?"
That's the breaking point.
Jeongguk cracks. The stubborn, defensive posture completely shatters, his arms dropping to his sides as he takes a sudden, aggressive step forward, closing the distance between the counter and your stool. He looms over you, his bare chest heaving, his eyes wide and burning with a desperate, chaotic intensity.
"It's not insane!" he bursts out, his voice cracking with a raw, emotional force that echoes through the quiet kitchen. He grips the edge of the marble island right next to your thighs, leaning down until his face is just inches from yours, entirely undone. "It's not the tequila, Y/N! I've been sober for months on tour and I thought about it every single day. Every girl I look at, every person I talk to, I'm just looking for you in them. I'm tired of pretending I don't. I'm tired of the mystery. I meant that I’m in love with you, okay? I’ve been in love with you for years!"
"You're crazy!" you snap back, the pure panic in your chest bubbling over into anger as you push yourself back against the barstool. "You are completely crazy, Jeongguk! You can’t just wake up one day and decide to ruin a ten-year friendship because you had a breakthrough on tour! You don't just get to tear down everything we built because you feel like it!"
He flinches as if you physically struck him. The fierce, looming intensity drains from his posture in an instant, leaving him looking raw and incredibly small despite his broad frame. His eyes turn visibly sad, a thick, glossy sheen coating them under the bright kitchen lights. His jaw tightens, his silver lip piercing trembling just a fraction before a bitter, hurt laugh leaves his throat.
"Well, excuse the fuck out of me if I have feelings," he spits out, his voice cracking with a dangerous mix of anger and absolute rejection. He pulls his hands off the marble counter and takes a step back, wrapping his arms tightly around his torso again, as if trying to shield his chest from you. "Excuse me for actually trusting my best friend enough to be honest. I didn't decide to feel this way, Y/N."
"It’s not even about that!" you yell back, your hands flying into the air out of sheer frustration. You slide off the barstool, finally standing on your own two feet so you don't have to look up at him. "Jeongguk, think for one second! Could you actually afford to lose me if a relationship goes south? If we do this, if we cross that line and it blows up in our faces, we don't get to go back to being friends. I'm gone. You're gone. Everything is ruined. Can you honestly afford that?"
At your words, his entire demeanor shifts from heartbroken to super pissy and defensive, the vulnerability of his ego being bruised making him lash out.
"It wouldn't go south!" he barks, his chest heaving as he glares down at you, his face flushing a furious, hurt red. "Why are you already deciding we're going to fail? And you know what? It doesn't even matter because you’re standing here acting like you have the high moral ground! Like you're the only one who cares about our friendship and I'm just some reckless idiot trying to break it!"
"I don’t have a moral ground!" you shout, stepping right into his space, your voice matching his volume. "I’m just trying to be smart about this! Someone has to be, because you're clearly letting your emotions run completely wild right now!"
"Why should you be smart?!" Jeongguk erupts, his frustration completely breaking through the ceiling. He throws his hands up, the silver rings on his fingers flashing aggressively in the morning sun. He steps so close you can feel the radiating, shirtless heat of his skin, his breath hitting your face in short, ragged gasps. He looks down at you, his eyes searching your face with a suffocating anger. "Why do you always have to be the logical one? Tell me the truth, Y/N—have you ever even thought about me that way? Even once? Or am I just the only idiot who’s been suffocating in this for years?"
"Of course I’ve thought about you that way!" you burst out, the truth ripping through your throat before you could even try to stop it. "Every single day for the last ten years, Jeongguk! I have been suffocating right next to you, watching you date other people, watching you become a global superstar, completely terrified that if I said a word, I’d lose you forever!"
Jeongguk completely freezes. The furious, pissy retort dies right on his tongue, his mouth hanging open slightly as his chest heaves. His round eyes widen, the glossy unshed tears making them look impossibly huge as he processes your words.
"You..." he stammers, his voice becoming a breathless, vulnerable whisper. "You have?"
"Yes! But you’re sitting here acting like it’s so simple," you say, your voice trembling with an overwhelming mix of anger, frustration, and a decade's worth of built-up tension. You take a step closer, your eyes locking onto his parted lips, then tracing up to the raw, completely undone expression on his face. He looks so helpless, so utterly desperate for your touch, standing there shirtless in the bright morning light.
You need him to understand. You need to prove to him that this isn't just some casual, easy dynamic he can play with. You want to prove a point—to show him exactly what he's playing with, exactly how dangerous this boundary truly is.
Before he can utter another word, you reach out, your fingers gripping the soft fabric of his sweatpants at his hip to pull him in, and you slam your lips against his.
Jeongguk lets out a sharp, muffled gasp into your mouth, his entire body jolting at the sudden impact. But the hesitation lasts for less than a second. The moment he realizes you are actually kissing him, he completely shatters. A low, desperate groan rumbles deep in his chest, and his tattooed hands flies to your waist, his fingers digging into your skin with a terrifying, suffocating hunger.
The kiss is chaotic, fierce, and overflowing with ten years of unspoken agony. You pour everything into it—all the logic, all the smart choices, all the fear of losing him—crushing your lips against his until your teeth click. He tastes like the rich espresso he just brewed and the sharp, lingering heat of his own desperation. He follows your lead completely, surrendering to the dominance you admitted to just hours before, letting you call every single shot as he whimpers against your mouth, his frame trembling beneath your hands.
When you finally pull back, your chest heaving, your lips swollen and tingling, you try to step away to establish the boundary again. "See?" you breathe out, your voice shaky as you stare at his dark, completely blown-out pupils. "That is what we lose if—"
"No," Jeongguk whines instantly, the sudden loss of your lips making him sound incredibly small and pathetic. His hands tighten on your waist, physically yanking you right back against his bare, warm chest. His nose brushes against yours, his breath hot and ragged. "No, Y/N. Please. Just one more. One more."
"Jeongguk, I'm trying to make a point—"
"I don't care about the point," he groans, his voice turning super whiny, his bottom lip pushing out in a desperate, pouty expression that completely contrasts his heavily tattooed, muscular frame. He leans his forehead against yours, his eyes fluttering shut as he practically begs. "Just one more kiss. Please. Y/N. One more, and then I’ll listen to the logical stuff. Just one more."
You melt away entirely under the pathetic, desperate drag of his voice. Every ounce of your hard-earned logic completely liquefies, dripping away into the space between your pounding hearts as you slide your hands up his radiating chest to cup the back of his neck, pulling him right back down to you.
The moment your lips meet again, Jeongguk kisses you like it’s the only thing he was ever put on this earth to do.
It is an agonizingly deep, consuming kiss that destroys any remaining illusion of your platonic past. He devours you, his plush lips parting with a fierce, wet desperation that immediately slicks your skin. He uses his tongue with a heavy, deliberate stroke, sweeping into your mouth to claim you entirely, tasting intensely of the bitter espresso and the sweet, clean mint from earlier. Every tilt of his head is a calculated shift to press deeper, his silver lip piercing sliding hot and sharp against your bottom lip, an intoxicating friction that sends a jolt of pure electricity straight to your core.
You let out a helpless, broken moan right into his mouth, the sound vibrating against his teeth.
The small noise completely undoes him. Jeongguk’s hands abandon your waist to roam frantically all over you, his palms hot and heavy as they map out your body. He slides his hands down the curve of your back, his blunt fingernails digging into your clothes, before lifting up to cup your jaw, his tattooed thumb firmly pressing against your pulse point to hold you perfectly still for his assault. His chest presses flush against you, the hard, sculpted lines of his abdomen crushing into your frame until you can feel the frantic, booming rhythm of his heart matching your own.
He is entirely consumed, a slave to the sudden shift in your dynamic.
He briefly breaks the kiss, his lips only parting a fraction of an inch from yours, leaving a string of wet, heavy breaths between you. His glossy eyes flutter open, looking at you with a gaze so completely wrecked and swimming with desire that it makes your knees buckle. He whines against your skin, a high, desperate sound cutting through his deep morning rasp as his forehead drops heavily against yours.
"I'm gonna make you feel good," he pleads, his breath hot and ragged against your swollen mouth as his hands slide back down to desperately grip your hips. "Please, Y/N... please let me make you feel good. Just let me. Please."
You don’t reply right away, your mind completely fracturing into a thousand pieces as you stand frozen in his kitchen. Your thoughts pull you in every direction, desperately trying to analyze the wreckage of the last five minutes.
The damage is done. You already kissed him—not just a gentle slip of the lips, but a fierce, devastating confession of a kiss that blew every single one of your carefully constructed boundaries right out the door. The sacred line of the friendship hasn't just been crossed; it’s been entirely incinerated.
As you stare down at his flushed face, a dark, heavy thought slips into your mind, taking root before your logic can tear it down: Would it really be so bad to just go through with it?
If everything is already broken, if the mystery is gone, why keep fighting the very thing that’s been suffocating you both for a decade? You look at his chest rising and falling in sharp, ragged gasps, his skin radiating a maddening heat that pulls you in like gravity.
Before a single word can tumble past your swollen lips, Jeongguk completely unravels. His knees give out, hitting the hardwood floor with a soft thud as he drops down right in front of you.
The global superstar, the man who fills stadiums worldwide, is entirely brought to his knees, looking up at you with huge, glassy, pleading eyes. He looks so sweet, so raw, and completely submissive to whatever you decide next.
"Please," he whimpers, the word spilling out of him like a broken prayer. "Please, Y/N."
He doesn't wait for your permission. His hands slide up the back of your legs, his palms scalding hot through the fabric of your clothes as he pulls your hips closer to his face. He buries his face against you, his warm forehead pressing firmly against your lower stomach as a ragged breath hitches in his throat.
"Let me make you feel good," he begs into your clothes, his voice dropping into a desperate, deep vibration that resonates straight through your skin. "Just let me do this for you. Please."
Then, his plush lips press against your clothed thighs.
He kisses you right through the fabric, his mouth hot and damp, leaving heavy, branding presses of his lips along the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. He nuzzles his face deeper against your legs, whining softly when you don't immediately push him away. The absolute friction of his silver lip piercing catching against the material, combined with the desperate, worshipful way his hands tighten on the back of your thighs, makes your breath hitch sharply in your throat. Your hands fly to his bare shoulders just to keep yourself steady, your fingers digging into his smooth, firm skin as the room tilts on its axis.
Your fingers sink deeper into the smooth muscle of his bare shoulders as the sheer weight of his worship pulls you under. The internal debate, the frantic logic, the fear of what happens when the dust settles—it all completely evaporates.
"Okay," you finally whisper, the single word cutting through his desperate, ragged breaths. "Okay, Jeongguk. Do it."
The permission hits him like an electric shock. He doesn't waste a single second, his hands moving with an frantic, desperate urgency. He grips the waistband of your pants and underwear together, his knuckles brushing against your skin as he tugs them down your legs in a breathless hurry. You kick out of them, your feet hitting the cool hardwood floor, leaving you completely exposed to him in the middle of the bright kitchen.
When he leans his head back in, you let out a sharp, involuntary hiss as the hot, concentrated burst of his breath hits your sensitive pubic area.
But he doesn't touch you yet. Jeongguk just stays frozen on his knees, his hands still tightly gripping the back of your thighs to anchor you in place. He’s just looking. His sweet eyes are wide and completely dark with a devastating mixture of awe and pure hunger. His chest heaves, his silver lip piercing glinting as his lips part slightly, his gaze completely tracing every inch of you as if he’s memorizing a holy text.
The intense, unblinking weight of his stare makes you shift your weight, a sudden spike of heat rushing to your face. "Jeongguk," you breathe out, your voice trembling. "What... what are you doing?"
"I need more room," he rasps, his voice dropping into a thick, desperate growl.
Before you can even process the words, his large hands slide under your thighs and around your back. In one swift, effortless motion, he lifts you completely off the ground. You let out a small gasp, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck as he carries you out of the kitchen. He moves with a singular, fierce focus, and in a matter of seconds, you’re in his bedroom.
He lays you down onto the mattress, and you find yourself completely sprawled across the dark, silk sheets of his bed, the heavy clean cotton scent of him enveloping you entirely.
Jeongguk doesn't even let you catch your breath. He crawls up onto the mattress immediately, his large, heavy body looming over yours for a fraction of a second before he slides right back down between your thighs. He hooks your knees over his shoulders, pinning you open, and buries his face directly between your legs.
The first touch of his tongue is a wet, heavy stroke that makes your entire body arches off the bed. He eats you out like it’s a form of salvation, his mouth hot, wide, and utterly ravenous against your wet skin. He uses his tongue with a frantic, consuming rhythm, lapping at you with deep, deliberate strokes that pull a loud, undone moan right from your throat. The slick, wet sounds of his mouth against you echo in the quiet room, completely destroying any lingering sanity.
Even as he devours you, the desperate, pleading energy from the kitchen doesn't leave him. Every time you twist your fingers into his damp, dark hair to pull him closer, a muffled, high whine breaks from his throat, vibrating directly against your clit. He nuzzles his face deeper into your heat, his silver lip piercing sliding sharp and intoxicating against your most sensitive spots, making you sob his name into the empty air.
"Please," he whimpers against your wet flesh, breaking his rhythm for only a split second to breathe your name, his voice cracked and completely wrecked. His hands grip your hips so tightly his knuckles turn white, silently begging you to hold him there, to let him keep drowning in you. "Please tell me it's good. Tell me you like it, Y/N. Just let me stay right here."
You can only cry out in response, your hips instinctively rolling into his mouth as his tongue darts back inside, deeper and more desperate than before, completely surrendering his entire existence to the rhythm of your pleasure.
The sound of his name ripping from your throat sends a visible shiver straight through his broad, shirtless frame. Hearing how undone you are only makes him more desperate, his tongue working with a frantic, wet rhythm that has your hips rolling blindly into his face.
"You're so good, Koo," you gasp out, your knuckles turning white as you fist your fingers into his damp, dark hair, pressing him closer. "Ah—yes, right there. You're making me feel so good. So good..."
Jeongguk lets out a muffled, high whine directly against your core, the high-pitched, needy sound vibrating straight through you. The praise completely undoes him. He sucks a hard, bruising path up your inner lip, his silver piercing scraping perfectly against your most sensitive flesh, pulling a loud, broken sob from your lungs. He is utterly buried in you, his hands gripping the undersides of your thighs so tightly that his bicep muscles bulge under his smooth, tattooed skin. He nuzzles deeper, lapping at your slick heat with a ravenous, worshipful speed, swallowing your whimpers like they are the only thing keeping him alive.
The friction is too much. The intense, deep heat building in your lower stomach is expanding so fast it feels dangerous, blinding you to everything else in the room. You are getting so entirely into it, the overwhelming pleasure clouding your logic until you can't breathe, can't think, can't handle the agonizingly slow burn of just his mouth anymore.
You want him. You want all of him.
With a breathless cry, you pull your hands out of his hair and adjust the position you're in, your palms sliding down his broad chest, past his tensed abs, to the low waistband of his grey sweatpants. Jeongguk senses the shift immediately, his head lifting, his lips glistening, dark hair falling wildly over his wide, blown-out eyes as he looks up at you with a breathless, questioning whimper.
You don't say a word. You simply hook your fingers into the cotton of his sweats and underwear, tugging them down past his hips in one swift, demanding motion.
His cock springs free, thick, heavy, and leaking a bead of pre-cum that glints in the bedroom light. It twitches against his lower stomach, fully erect and radiating a maddening heat. Jeongguk lets out a raw, hitched breath, his hands trembling on your mattress as he hovers over you, completely exposed, his chest heaving as he waits in agonizing suspense for what you're going to do to him next.
You wrap your fingers firmly around the thick, pulsing base of his shaft, the skin scalding hot against your palm. Jeongguk lets out a shaky, pathetic gasp the moment your hand closes around him, his hips twitching forward instinctively. Without giving him a second to recover, you lean forward, parting your lips, and slide the plush, leaking head of his cock straight into your mouth.
He completely loses his mind.
A loud, ragged moan rips from his throat, echoing sharply in the quiet bedroom. You swirl your tongue around the sensitive ridge, catching the slick pre-cum, before sinking your mouth lower, drawing him deeper down your throat. The rich, clean scent of him mixes with the musk of his arousal, entirely consuming your senses. You use your tongue to stroke the sensitive underside of his shaft, your lips wrapping tight around him to create a fierce, suffocating vacuum as you bob your head in a steady, demanding rhythm.
He throws his head back, hair spilling over his forehead as a continuous string of broken groans and breathless whimpers spills from his parted lips. He doesn't try to hold back, his chest heaving as he watches you through hooded, blown-out eyes, his silver piercing catching the light every time his jaw slacks.
"Ah, God, Y/N," he pants, his voice cracking with pure, unadulterated worship. His large, tattooed hand flies to your hair, but he doesn't push you down—he just cradles your head with a trembling, gentle grip, completely submissive to your pace. "You're so perfect. Look at you... fucking hell, you're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. Please, you're destroying me."
The praises are heavy, thick with a devotion that makes your chest ache. He’s praising you in a way you've never been praised before, treating your mouth like a sanctuary, completely unbothered by his own ego. You take him deeper, your thumb rubbing over his balls, and the combination makes his hips roll blindly against your lips, a low, desperate whine vibrating in his chest.
The edge is getting too sharp for him. The friction of your wet mouth and the agonizingly sweet torture of the rhythm has him shaking from head to toe. His fingers tighten in your hair, his breath coming in short, panicked gasps as he feels himself reaching a dangerous point of no return.
He suddenly pulls back just enough to slip his cock from your lips, a heavy string of saliva connecting you for a fraction of a second. Jeongguk hovers over you on his knees, his entire body trembling, his face flushed a dark, beautiful red as he looks down at your wet, swollen lips.
"I can't—I can't just take," he begs, his voice breaking completely as he drops his forehead against your chest, his chest heaving against your skin. He is entirely undone, crying out as his hands slide down to grip your hips, physically pulling you back down onto the mattress. He positions himself right between your soaked, aching thighs, the heavy head of his cock rubbing torturously against your wet core. "Please, Y/N. I need to be inside you. Please let me come home. Please let me inside."
A dark, heady rush of power floods your veins as you look down at him. Seeing the man who fills stadiums worldwide reduced to a trembling, pleading mess right under you is intoxicating. You smirk against the flushed skin, your fingers sliding up his damp neck to tilt his face up.
"Put it on then, Koo," you murmur.
You say your consent, and the word acts like a green light. Jeongguk scrambles, blindly fishing a condom from the nightstand drawer—you aren't even paying attention to where he gets it from, your eyes locked onto the sharp, beautiful lines of his tensed muscles as he tears the foil open with his teeth.
His hands are shaking so violently it takes him two tries to roll the latex down his thick, pulsing length.
The moment he’s protected, he doesn't wait. He lines the wet, heavy head of his cock against your slick opening and sinks into you in one deep, agonizingly slow push.
A loud, broken sob rips from your throat as he fills you completely, stretching you out until you're entirely consumed by the sheer size of him. Jeongguk lets out a guttural, trembling groan into the crook of your neck, his large frame collapsing over yours, his full, shirtless weight pinning you into the dark silk sheets.
"Ah, God, Y/N... you're so tight, you're so warm," he whimpers, his voice completely wrecked as he begins to move.
The friction is instant and overwhelming. Jeongguk doesn't fuck you with the practiced, cocky rhythm of a man in control; he fucks you with a desperate, frantic hunger, his hips snapping forward in deep, heavy thrusts that rock the entire bed. He is completely starved for you, his tattooed hand sliding under your lower back to lift your hips higher, taking every single inch you have to offer. The wet, slapping sound of his skin hitting yours echoes in the quiet bedroom, mixed with his continuous, vocal praises.
He’s riding the absolute edge from the very first stroke, the decade of built-up desire making him impossibly sensitive. His breath comes in short, panicked gasps against your ear, his silver lip piercing grazing your pulse point as his pace turns frantic, unhinged.
"I'm gonna—Y/N, I'm close, I can't hold it," he cries out, his voice cracking. He gives three more deep, blind thrusts, his entire body locking up as a low, ragged scream tears from his lungs. He spasms against you, his cock twitching violently inside your walls as he finishes first, spilling himself entirely into the condom.
But he doesn't stop.
Even as his climax ripples through him, leaving him completely overstimulated and trembling, he refuses to pull out. He knows you haven't crossed the line yet. With his jaw clenched and his eyes swimming with tears from the sheer, burning sensitivity of his post-nut state, Jeongguk forces his hips to keep moving.
He whimpers miserably with every single stroke, the friction against his overstimulated skin clearly driving him crazy, but he keeps pushing inside you anyway.
"I've got you," he pants, a high, needy whine breaking from his lips as he drags his body up and down yours, his movements slower now, heavier, grinding his pelvis right against your clit with agonizing precision. "I'm not stopping... please, baby, come for me. Let me feel you clamp down on me. Please."
The sight of him pushing through his own overstimulation just to please you completely shatters whatever restraint you have left. Your internal walls collapse. Your hips begin to roll frantically against his, your toes curling into the silk sheets as the tight coil in your lower stomach snaps.
You scream his name as a violent, crushing orgasm ripples through your body. Your internal muscles clamp down tightly around his thick shaft, milking him through the latex. Jeongguk lets out a loud, pathetic whimper at the tight squeeze, his forehead dropping heavily onto your shoulder as he rides out the wave of your climax with you, completely spent, completely yours.
He collapses right besides you, his massive, shirtless frame molding perfectly against you as he pulls you into his chest. Both of your chests are heaving in the quiet room, the only sound the ragged asymmetry of your breathing slowing down. Jeongguk nuzzles his face into your hair, tracing his plush, swollen lips along your jawline before kissing you tenderly on the cheek—a soft, lingering pressure that feels entirely detached from the frantic, consuming chaos of just moments ago.
You lie there, the cool air of the bedroom hitting your bare skin where his body isn't pinning you down. The reality of what just happened begins to settle into your bones, the heavy fog of pleasure lifting to reveal the massive, uncharted territory you’ve both just stepped into.
"Jeongguk," you breathe out, your voice still a little raspy. You turn your head slightly, trying to look at him. "We should talk about it. About... us. What this means."
He lets out a soft, tired groan, burying his face deeper into your neck. His large, tattooed arm wraps securely around your waist, pulling you so close there isn't a single millimeter of space left between you.
"We will," he promises, his low rumble vibrating right against your skin. "I promise we’ll talk about everything you want. Just... please let me enjoy this moment for a second. Let me just hold you."
You agree, nodding your head slightly against his chest, but you are visibly lost in your thoughts. Your eyes trace the unfamiliar contours of his bedroom, the dark silk sheets, the heavy shadows on the wall. The anxiety hasn't completely vanished, it's just waiting on the periphery, whispering questions about tomorrow, about his career, about the fragile ten-year foundation you just risked.
As if sensing the sudden shift in your energy, Jeongguk shifts. He props himself up on one elbow, hovering over you just enough to look down into your face. His eyes are incredibly soft, completely clear of the tequila from last night and the blinding lust from minutes ago. He reaches up, his gentle thumb tracing your cheekbone, wiping away a stray bead of sweat.
"Hey," he murmurs, his piercing catching the soft light. He looks at you with an unwavering certainty that makes your heart skip a beat. "I’m going to make sure nothing goes south. I promise you. I love you, Y/N."
Hearing the words spoken so clearly, without a drop of alcohol or adrenaline to hide behind, makes the last of your defenses crumble.
"I love you too," you whisper back.
He smiles—a genuine, boyish grin that reminds you exactly of the teenager you met a decade ago—and pulls you back down against him. As you nuzzle your nose deep into the warm, clean-scented crook of his neck, listening to the steady, unshakeable beat of his heart beneath your cheek, the frantic thoughts in your mind finally begin to quiet down.
Maybe the logic didn't matter. Maybe, against all odds, it really was going to be okay.
(Baby’s first BTS blurb) FaceTiming Hobi post-Belgium
<~>
“No, I love it when you’re a whore for all the world to see.”
“Babe,” he laughs.
“I’m serious,” you say, mirroring his laugh. “I’m really serious. You should take the whole shirt off in Munich.”
He gazes at you adoringly through the phone screen. “Weirdo.”
“I’m just trying to share the wealth. Get your thighs out in…” You check the tour schedule hanging on your wall. “Paris. Drop one piece every stop. By Baltimore you’ll be naked.” He’s teary eyed with laughter now, unable to speak. “I’m doing a public service here, honey.”
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