Genre: Romance ୨୧ Drama ୨୧ Friends to Lovers ୨୧ Love Triangle
Status: Ongoing (I update when inspired ✨😭)
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Summary
After her boyfriend’s betrayal shatters her heart, Y/N finds comfort in the arms of a close friend. But one unexpected night changes everything, leading them down a path neither saw coming.
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✧ A/N:
Fun fact 😭 I originally started writing I’ve Fallen For Him when I was around 15/16 years old. It was just a little something I kept in a journal. A few years later, I came back across it after a terrible relationship/breakup. Seeing it, I decided I could revamp it since I could relate better to the emotions. So, if you’re reading this, I hope you enjoy it! <3
I stop to think before doing anything irrational in this moment of chaos. A thought then comes to my head and I put my foot on the break before pulling the gear into reverse leaving the driveway.
I go the only place I know to go at a time like this the only place I know I’m welcomed…
Arriving at the house I pull in the driveway parking beside their car. I knock at the door waiting patiently for it to be opened while the rain pours I burst into to tears thinking about the scene I just witnessed thinking what did I do wrong? & what could I have done better?
Suddenly the door opens making me snap out of my thoughts. “Y/N?” A confused Yoongi says “Can I please crash here for the night?” I ask trying not to sound like I was just crying. “Of course, come in are you alright?” He ask me quickly stepping out of the way letting me in so I can get out the rain.
“No.” I mumble under my breath “what is it?” Yoongi ask concern showing on his face. “Jimin cheated on me” I say bursting into tears Yoongi quickly pulls me into a hug comforting me. “I’m sorry Y/N” I then pull away vision blurry “it’s not your fault” I tell him he then walks over to the couch me following right behind.
Grabbing a towel from the couch he wraps it around me. “You must be freezing” he says softly I say nothing only watching as he cares for me. He then looks at me catching me staring “you ok?” He asks I snap back to reality but only nod he chuckles continuing to try and dry up as much water as he can.
“How about you just go upstairs and take a shower, I’ll make you some tea” he suggests probably after noticing my cold shivers. Before I can even decline he takes my hand walking me upstairs to his bathroom turning on the shower. “I’ll be right back” he tells me before exiting.
He comes right back just as he said he would this time with a pair of black sweatpants and a white t shirt in his hand. “I figured you didn’t have extra in your car” he tells me sitting them on the counter before beginning to leave.
“Thank you Yoongi” I say before he completely leaves “no problem” he smiles his gummy smile making my chest palpitate.
He shuts the door and I strip before jumping in the shower the warm water hitting my skin making me sigh in relief.
After showering I get out putting on the clothes Yoongi gave to me. I then pick up my clothes leaving the bathroom room to go find Yoongi I go downstairs to the kitchen immediately seeing him making the tea he said he would.
He looks up seeing me holding the clothes. “Just put those in the laundry room I’ll take care of it” he tells me before turning around grabbing two mugs from the cabinet. I do as he says before coming back.
He places the mugs on the table pouring the tea into both. I let out a long sigh as I go to his bar grabbing a bottle of whiskey taking a big gulp of it. I swallow it before shaking my head and frowning up at the burn.
I look at the bottle again before beginning to take another shot. “Woah!” Yoongi says protesting as he quickly runs over to me taking the bottle out of my hands leaving me completely stunned.
He gives me a look before putting the whisky back where it belongs. Taking my hand he takes me back over to the table where the tea is sliding mine over to me for me to drink.
I take a sip and shortly after a deep breath. “Now talk” he says pulling out a chair for me to sit then another for him. I sit down before explaining all the events of tonight from.. me waiting, to the rain.
The uber, my hair, the sweet smelling perfume, hearing Jimin talk to someone to seeing some whore straddling my boyfriend of almost 3 years! I start to tear up and my voice gets a bit shaky as I talk about it.
I quickly wipes my eyes with my hands before the tears can fall “I’m sorry I just-” I begin before looking up to see Yoongi not even at the table anymore leaving me puzzled. “Yoongi?” I call out. I then feel a hand on my shoulder making me quickly look up seeing him.
“Here” he says placing a box of tissues in front of me giving me a sweet smile. I give a slight smile “Thank you” I say taking one from the box. I wipe my eyes before continuing to talk to Yoongi
Before long I realize I’ve been yapping about Jimin and how I’ve been feeling for the past 20 minutes. I look at the time on my phone before looking up at Yoongi who has his chin resting in his hand while looking at me.
“It’s late.. I’m sorry for keeping you up with my relationship problems” I apologize. He smirks at me before getting up for his chair walking over to me slightly making me hold my breath.
He sits in the chair closer to where I am before taking my hand. “No need for apologies.. I’m here for you however I can be” Yoongi tells me giving me his gummy smile. I can’t help but smile back & nod.
“Now.. it is getting a bit late you take the bed I’ll take the couch” he tells me before going over flopping on the couch grabbing the remote off of the center table. “What?” I say my eyes widening as I hurriedly go over to the couch.
“I’m a guest in your home.. I’ll take the couch” I say taking him by the hand making him sit up. “Exactly that’s why you get the bed” he smiles sprawling back out. “Ahhh why do you have to make this difficult!” I scratch my head.
“You’re making it difficult yourself y/n” he says flipping through the channels not even looking at me. “Well.. if you insist on not letting me sleep there… what if we both take the bed?” I say before the realization hits.
There’s then complete silence and I look up to seeing Yoongi staring at me with an unfamiliar look on his face.
I waited patiently as the wind blew almost making me want to call an Uber for a ride home. No, he’s coming he promised he wouldn’t forget.. again. My boyfriend of almost 3 years Park Jimin. We did get into a fight before I left for work so I assumed he was still just mad at me that was until… it started to rain.
“Great,” I said running back to the front of my office building getting out of the rain I wait a few minutes scanning the street as cars pass by flying to get home. Yet no Jimin I pull out my phone reluctantly ordering an Uber I order the closest one to me which is right around the corner 3 minutes away. Minutes pass and a black Audi R8 pulls up right in front of my office building “Nice” I mumble under my breath.
Using my hands I try to shield my hair from the rain quickly getting in the car closing the door the driver then pulls off taking me home which is about a 20-minute drive By this time it’s really pouring down. The driver slows down when he pulls into my neighborhood “Excuse me? It’s the 3rd house on the left” I tell him he nods in approval before pulling into the driveway. “Thank you,” I say before getting out “You’re welcome, have a nice night” I hear before closing the door running to the front door unlocking it going inside quickly shutting it behind me.
I look in the mirror placed right in the entry way “so much for protecting my hair” I say to my reflection looking at my now disheveled hair. I take off my shoes holding them in my hand before heading upstairs careful not to wake a probably sleeping Jimin He usually slept pretty well when the weather got like this. I come to the 3rd step from the top and I hear laughter as if he talking to someone must be talking to one of the boys if not all I approach my room door about to open it when I smell a distinct perfume one that’s been lingering on Jimin every night he comes home from work for about 4 months now. Nothing I own though it’s too sweet almost childish but I’ve never really felt the need to ask about it because Jimin would never cheat on me. Right?
I twist open the knob of my door and there he is in our bed with another woman straddling him the two of them completely naked. The two of them quickly look at me with pure shock on their faces. My heart then drops to my stomach and I get a feeling of pure disgust I feel my eyes fill with tears “Y/N! Baby I can explain!” Jimin says pushing the woman off of him grabbing his underwear and pants from the floor trying to put them on.
I turn around quickly leaving the room “There’s nothing to explain Jimin!” I shout trying to get as far away as possible I can from him but he’s just too fast. He grabs my wrist making me shoot a glare at him “I know what you’re thinking but it was nothing like that” he tries to explain. “Oh yeah, so the two of you were just naked in our bed?!” I shout. The thought and his stupid explanation making me now furious. He then looks at me dumbfounded “Yeah, you need a better explanation than that Park” I say snatching my arm away from him grabbing the car keys from the hook by the front door “Where exactly are you going?” He asks slight annoyance in his voice. “Anywhere you aren’t,” I say slamming the door before he can say anything else.
I run getting in the car starting it and quickly turning on the heat before thinking to myself. He’s right. “Where is there for me to go?”
Had a coworker come up to me while I was looking at something BTS related.. she asked what I was doing I showed her my phone she goes “oh! I saw they are gonna be in New York and immediately thought of you” OH! Soo you saw bts and thought of me girllllllll *bites finger*
WARNINGS -> idol!jungkook x fan!reader, power imbalance (?), fingering, semi public sex, degradation if you squint, dom!jungkook x sub!reader, please lmk if i missed anything because this is long😭
now playing: lady in my life - michael jackson˚.⋆♪
you didn’t know how you were able to meet jeon jungkook.
was fate playing an elaborate joke on you? was it meant to be? that was what you were wondering the moment you saw him.
you had been a bts fan for years. your friends and family rolled their eyes every time you rambled on and on about song meanings, interviews, and just how amazing your bias, jungkook was. how his voice was so beautiful, how infectious his laugh was, how you could get lost in his eyes even through a screen.
though you struggled to admit it, jungkook helped cure your chronic loneliness. it was almost pathetic—weverse lives were warped by your mind into one on one conversations, your lovesick eyes gazing into the screen as you ate dinner, pretending he only had eyes for you.
two nights before you met him, you saw him at bts’ concert in your city. it was fun, the most fun you’d had in a long time. you were in the front, something you ridiculous amounts of money for. it was harmless, low stakes entertainment.
one night before you met him, you were laying in your bed, face mask on, humming the song normal as you tried to forget how perfect he looked under those stage lights.
the night you met him, you were at a club. the harsh, skunk-esque scent of marijuana filled your nostrils and bass-heavy music filled your ears. your friends were distracted, gossiping as you stared at him wordlessly.
that couldn’t be him, you thought. he had to have moved on to another city. he couldn’t still be here. he couldn’t be in the same room as you. this handsome, brunette boy in this club couldn’t be your bias.
but his piercings were too identical to jungkook’s. this man was dressed just like jungkook, and when his right hand reached up to scratch his face—
holy shit. it was him.
you could recognize those tattoos from anywhere. the ARMY, the heart, the various colorful tattoos that you recognized one by one as your eyes trailed up his arm. your mouth went dry.
you had to sit down in your friends’ booth before your knees buckled. this can’t be happening. this can not be happening. you immediately felt self conscious about everything. you didn’t spend enough time on your hair. your dress was so boring. did your makeup melt off? you really hoped it didn’t. you frantically reapplied your lip gloss just in case.
your friend tapped you on the shoulder, “are you okay?”
you tried your best to sound natural, “of course, why?”
“you look like you just saw a ghost,” she giggled.
“i’m fine,” you insisted.
she turned back to the rest of your friend group.
you glanced at jungkook again. he was with some friends, ordering at the bar. he yawned.
you looked away, staring at the wall as you yawned. you swallowed, really hoping he didn’t see that. your fingers fumbled with the hem of your dress.
you couldn’t do this. you needed a walk. “i’m gonna go… get some air,” you blurted to your friends, your voice cracking on the last syllable.
“want me to go with you?” a friend asked.
“no,” you said too fast as you got up and practically ran to the exit.
as you turned to get up, you made direct eye contact with jungkook.
he was staring. not in your direction, not at your booth. at you.
this can’t be happening.
your eyes widened. you scurried towards the door, the number of people around you getting smaller and the music getting fainter the closer you got.
you felt a big hand grab your arm. you almost gasped when you turned to him.
jungkook.
you froze like a deer in headlights, “hello?”
he looked more handsome in person, his silver lip piercings slightly reflecting the dim light. his eyes glistened so perfectly your heart ached. he was everything you thought he’d be and more.
he broke the silence, “you were staring at me.”
“no.” you lied, turning to leave.
“you yawned right after me,” he grabbed your arm again.
“i was tired,” you muttered, “who are you?”
you didn’t know why you asked that. you definitely knew who he was.
his eyes narrowed, “you don’t know who i am?”
you forced a scoff, “should i?”
he shrugged, “you stared at me like you did.”
you tried to step to the side to pass him. he mirrored you.
“i said i was tired,” you muttered.
“and i said you were staring at me.”
you huffed, looking up at him.
big mistake. he was close. your heart pounded.
his skin looked so perfect. don’t stare don’t stare don’t stare—
“what do you want?” you tried to use a demanding tone, but your voice was too shaky.
he looked at you up and down, “still trying to figure that out.”
you bit your lip. he stepped closer. you backed into a wall. big mistake.
“you know, most people just come up and say hi.”
your heart dropped.
“i-i’m not most people,” you softly shot back.
his expression shifted to something softer, more intrigued.
“you just looked…” you started.
breathtaking. divine. amazing.
“weird,” you finished.
“weird?” he echoed.
“yep.”
he stepped closer into your space. you could smell his cologne.
he had a smug glint in his eyes, “you’re nervous.”
your eyebrows furrowed, “i’m not.”
he chuckled, “you are such a bad liar, you know that?”
his eyes shifted down to your lips. your breath hitched. he brushed his thumb against the corner of your mouth, “your lip gloss smudged.”
you didn’t speak. you couldn’t.
“you say you’re not nervous,” his fingers slid from your lip to your wrist, “but why are you shaking?”
you hadn’t noticed until he said it.
“i…” you trailed off.
he grinned, and it was probably the most beautiful thing you’d seen in your life.
your breath stuttered. stupid, traitorous warmth spread through you.
“you’re weird.”
“you grabbed me first,” you grumbled.
“yeah,” his eyes flicked to your lips again, “i did.”
and then he kissed you. no warning, no buildup, he just kissed you.
none of this felt real. you wondered when you would wake up in your bed, realizing you had the best dream of your life.
you kissed him back harder than you thought you would, hands finding his face and pulling him closer. he obliged, deepening the kiss.
when he pulled back for air, he didn’t go far. his forehead almost touched yours.
“you always kiss strangers like that?” he asked.
your brain stalled. you almost laughed. if only he knew.
“do you always grab girls in clubs like that?” you muttered.
his grin didn’t falter. if anything, it softened, eyes flicking over your face like he was trying to memorize it.
“only the ones who stare at me like that.”
your heart fluttered stupidly at that.
his hands were still on your waist. he hadn’t moved them. you hadn’t asked him to. the music thumped faintly through the walls, but out here it felt quiet. too quiet. like the world had narrowed down to just this. his hands, his breath, the way he was looking at you like you were something worth figuring out.
you swallowed, your gaze dropping to his lips again. big mistake. his thumbs stilled against your waist.
“…you’re doing it again,” he murmured.
heat flooded your face. you looked away quickly, shaking your head.
“i’m not…”
“you are,” he said softly, like he wasn’t even teasing anymore.
your chest felt tight. this wasn’t how this was supposed to go. you weren’t supposed to be here, pressed against a wall, being looked at like this by someone you had spent years—
“what’re you thinking about?”
“you’re just—” you cut yourself off.
he tilted his head slightly. “just what?”
perfect. beautiful. everything.
“annoying,” you finished weakly.
he huffed out a quiet laugh, but his eyes didn’t leave your face.
“yeah,” he murmured, unconvinced. “that’s not it.”
you didn’t respond.
you couldn’t.
because the longer he looked at you like that, the harder it was to remember how to act normal. how to pretend you didn’t know the way his voice sounded at three in the morning, soft through a screen. how to pretend this wasn’t something you had imagined a hundred times before.
his hand shifted slightly, sliding a little higher on your waist. not enough to be inappropriate, just enough to make your breath catch.
“you don’t act like you know me,” he said quietly.
your stomach dropped.
“because i don’t,” you whispered.
another lie.
he studied you for a long moment, eyes searching your face like he was trying to catch you in it.
“…right,” he said finally, but he didn’t sound convinced.
your heart pounded. say something. anything.
“why did you follow me?” you asked instead.
his lips curved, just a little.
“you ran away.”
you blinked. “i didn’t run.”
“you did,” he said easily. “and you looked like you were about to pass out.”
you felt your face heat up again. “i was fine.”
“mhm.”
he didn’t believe you. of course he didn’t. you let out a small breath, your shoulders relaxed just a little despite yourself.
“i just needed air.”
“so did i,” he said.
you frowned slightly. “you seemed fine.”
“yeah,” he said, eyes flicking down to your lips again, “but then i saw you leave.”
your heart skipped.
oh.
oh.
you didn’t know what to do with that. the silence stretched again, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. it was… heavy. warm. like something was building between you and neither of you wanted to be the one to break it.
his fingers flexed slightly against your waist.
“what’s your name?” he asked.
your breath caught. this was it. this was where it became real. this was where you ruined everything. you hesitated.
his brows pulled together just a little, like that wasn’t the reaction he expected “what?” he said softly.
“i just…” you trailed off, your voice small. “i don’t think i should.”
he blinked, surprised.
“why not?”
because if you told him, this would end.
because if you told him, he might realize.
because this—whatever this was—felt too good to be real, and you didn’t want it to stop.
you shook your head, looking down.
“i just don’t want this to be weird.”
he watched you carefully, something shifting in his expression again. softer. more serious.
“it’s already weird,” he said quietly.
you let out a small, breathy laugh.
“yeah,” you admitted.
his thumb brushed lightly against your side, absentminded.
“then don’t tell me,” he said after a moment. “my name is jungkook.”
you looked up at him, surprised.
he held your gaze for a moment before one of his hands left your waist, reaching into his pocket.
your heart stuttered at the loss of contact.
he pulled out his phone, unlocking it quickly before taking your hand—gentler this time—and placing it in yours.
your fingers trembled slightly.
“put your number in,” he said.
you stared at the screen like it might disappear.
this wasn’t real. this couldn’t be real.
“…why?” you asked softly.
his lips twitched, like he found the question funny.
“because i want to see you again.”
your chest tightened.
you glanced up at him, searching his face for any hint that he didn’t mean it.
there wasn’t one. he looked… sure. like this was the easiest decision he’d made all night.
“unless,” he added, quieter now, “you’re gonna pretend you don’t want that either.”
your heart melted completely. you looked back down at his phone, your vision blurring slightly as you typed your number in with shaky fingers.
you handed his phone back to him. your fingers brushed. you almost forgot how to breathe. he glanced at the screen, saving it, then looked back at you.
“mystery girl,” he read under your contact, a small smile tugging at his lips.
you huffed out a soft laugh. “you’re annoying.”
“yeah,” he said, stepping just a little closer again, like he couldn’t help himself, “you said that.”
your heart was beating so fast it hurt.
“i meant it.”
“sure you did.”
his gaze dropped to your lips again. slower this time. more deliberate. your breath hitched.
“i’ll text you,” he murmured.
you nodded, barely. “okay.”
neither of you moved. not really. just stood there, too close, like neither of you wanted to be the first to step away.
his hand lingered at your waist for a second longer before he finally let it fall. the absence felt immediate. cold.
he took a small step back, but his eyes stayed on you.
“don’t run off again,” he said.
you swallowed.
“…i won’t.”
his smile came back, softer this time.
“good.”
and then he turned, walking back toward the door—
before glancing over his shoulder one last time like he wanted to make sure you were still there. exactly where he left you.
・・・・・
jungkook had never dated anyone like you before.
you were strange, a little evasive, but when he finally got you to open up, you were nothing like he expected.
he didn’t think about you in a normal way anymore. that was the problem. it had started as curiosity. this girl in a club who looked at him like she recognized him but refused to admit it. now it had turned into something quieter, more constant. like a habit he couldn’t drop.
you.
you, who still wouldn’t call him first sometimes but always answered immediately when he texted.
you, who pretended not to know things about him and then accidentally hummed songs from his older albums when you thought he wasn’t listening.
you, who acted shy with him like you weren’t always the one trying to get closer to him.
jungkook laid on his hotel bed, phone in hand, staring at your name.
you: are you awake?
it was almost 2 am in your time zone. why were you up? he smiled before he even realized it.
jungkook: what’s up?
there was a pause.
you: i can’t sleep
he exhaled through his nose, turning onto his side.
jungkook: come here then
another pause. longer this time. he could practically feel you thinking through the screen.
you: i’m literally across the country
jungkook: i know
jungkook: still want you here. haven’t seen you face to face in weeks
the typing bubble appeared immediately.
disappeared. appeared again.
he pictured your face exactly in that moment. how your lips would press together when you were trying not to overthink something.
you: that’s not fair
he laughed softly to himself.
jungkook: it’s very fair
jungkook: you started this. want a red eye or do you want your beauty sleep?
another pause.
you: i hate you
he smiled wider.
jungkook: no you don’t
he was right, and you both knew it.
when he flew you out for the first time, you were nervous when you saw him at the airport. you just stood there for a second too long, staring at him like you were trying to confirm he was real.
then you walked straight into him. no hesitation, arms around his neck, face buried against his shoulder like you belonged there.
“hi,” you mumbled.
jungkook laughed into your hair, tightening his hold around your waist.
“hi,” he said back, softer.
you smelled like your perfume and airport air and something distinctly you that he couldn’t describe. you pulled back just enough to look at him.
“you look tired,” you said immediately, voice slightly raspy.
“i just flew twelve hours,” he said.
you nodded seriously. “that’ll do it.”
then you reached up and fixed his hair like it was the most natural thing in the world. jungkook froze for half a second. then he leaned into your touch without thinking.
that was the first time he realized it.
you didn’t treat him like jungkook. you treated him like him.
the days blurred after that. you stayed in the city while he was on tour, slipping into his schedule like you had always been part of it.
you didn’t ask for much. you just showed up. you sat in dressing rooms while he got ready, legs curled under you, quietly scrolling on your laptop while he talked around you. sometimes you’d look up and just… watch him.
not in that overwhelming way from the club. in a soft way. like you were learning him.
“what?” he’d ask once, catching you.
you’d blink. “nothing.”
“you’re staring again.”
you’d shrug, unbothered. “you’re interesting.”
that had made him pause.
no one had ever called him that.
not like that.
after shows, you were always waiting.
not backstage screaming. just there. hoodie oversized, hair slightly messy, holding something small for him—water, food, a dumb little snack you found nearby.
he started looking for you in crowds without meaning to. and every time he found you, your face would soften like you forgot everything else existed. that expression did something to him.
every time.
you were strange in a way he didn’t know how to categorize. you didn’t fawn over him. you didn’t ask for pictures. you didn’t even really talk about what he did unless he brought it up.
instead, you talked about random things.
the way clouds looked different in each city. how you thought certain songs felt like specific temperatures. he didn’t always understand you. but he always wanted to.
one night, after a show, you were sitting on his hotel bed while he stood by the window, half-dressed.
you were talking about something ridiculous again. he wasn’t really listening to the words. just you. your hands moved when you spoke. your voice softened when you got sleepy. your eyes kept drifting to him like it was instinct.
“you’re doing it again,” you said suddenly.
he looked over. “doing what?”
you pointed at him. “that thing where you look at me like i’m gonna disappear.”
“i don’t—”
“you do.”
you both paused.
“why?”
he walked over slowly and sat beside you.
the mattress dipped under his weight. he didn’t answer right away. instead, he looked at you properly.
you blushed, breaking eye contact.
“you’re different,” he said finally.
you hummed. “that’s not an answer,” you mumbled.
he smiled a little, “it is for me.”
you shifted closer without thinking, like it was muscle memory now. “good different?” you asked.
his gaze dropped to your lips for a second before coming back up. “yeah,” he said softly. “good different.”
you nodded like that was enough. then you leaned your head against his shoulder. and jungkook thought, absurdly, quietly that he could get used to this.
you, like this. you, next to him. you, staying.
and for the first time in a long time, jungkook wasn’t thinking about what came next. he was just thinking about you not leaving.
he was falling, deeper and deeper as the months of the tour passed.
when the it was over, he didn’t even hesitate to fly back with you to your city.
it was bliss. going out on dates, tipsily stumbling into his airbnb, making out on the couch. he felt himself falling for you every time he looked into your pretty eyes. he didn’t want to push you, but he really wanted to come over to your place.
tonight, you two were out at a lounge together, a place you told him was your favorite. you wore the cutest pink top with a skirt that had his head spinning.
you had requested a private room, knowing he’d probably want privacy.
the hostess closed the door behind you, the noise of the lounge softening into a distant hum.
it was quieter in here with just the two of you. you slipped your shoes off the moment you stepped inside, tucking them neatly by the couch before settling down like you’d been here a hundred times before.
“i like this one,” you murmured, running your fingers over the soft fabric of the seat.
jungkook watched you for a second before taking off his shoes and sitting across from you.
“…you come here a lot?” he asked.
you shook your head, smiling a little.
“not really,” you admitted, glancing up at him. “but i thought you’d like it.”
something in his chest shifted at that.
you didn’t say it like you were trying to impress him. you said it like it mattered to you.
you didn’t stay across from him. you never did. after a moment, you shifted, moving beside him instead, your thigh brushing his as you settled in. closer than necessary. jungkook exhaled softly through his nose.
“…couldn’t see me from over there?” he murmured.
you shook your head, blushing softly. “i just like being closer,” you said, quieter now. your shoulder leaned into his. you didn’t move.
your hand found his sleeve again, fingers tracing lightly over the fabric before slipping lower, slower this time, until your fingers brushed his.
hesitated.
then laced with his.
jungkook stilled. your thumb moved over his knuckles, slow, absentminded, but it didn’t feel absentminded to him. nothing about you did.
you leaned in slightly, your chin brushing his shoulder as you looked out at the room, but your body stayed angled toward him.
toward him.
always toward him.
“it’s nice in here,” you whispered. your breath ghosted against his neck.
jungkook swallowed. “yeah,” he said, lower now. “it is.”
that was when you planted a soft kiss onto his neck. then his jaw. then his cheek. he turned to face you, and you captured his lips in a sweet, soft kiss. you pulled back, giggling like you were proud of yourself.
“what’d i do to deserve that?” he teased.
“nothing,” you replied, “just felt like it.”
he didn’t know if it was the drinks or the room, but something about you felt warmer. softer. his hand slid from your hand to your thigh. the skin was smooth.
slowly, as you rambled and you two drank, he drifted his fingers higher and higher up your thigh. you let him do it.
he paused when the back of his hand brushed against your panties. they were soaked through. your eyes widened.
“you’re excited.”
your eyes widened. you buried your face in your hands.
“ah-ah,” he tutted. “let me see you.”
he brought your hands down, your wide, glossy eyes staring up at him.
“that’s my girl.”
your breath hitched. he felt you get wetter. his pants were suddenly tight. he slightly pressed his fingers against your clit through the fabric. you let out a high pant.
“so sensitive,” he teased as he lazily pressed harder.
you squirmed under his touch, your hips shifting in a desperate attempt for more friction. a soft whimper escaped your lips as he continued to tease you through the fabric.
"look at you," jungkook murmured, his voice low and husky. "so needy already. i've barely touched you."
his fingers traced the outline of your panties, deliberately avoiding where you wanted him most. your breath hitched when he finally hooked a finger under the fabric, pulling it aside to reveal your glistening folds.
"all this for me?" he chuckled, his eyes darkening with desire. "you really are something else."
without warning, he slid a finger inside you, and you gasped at the sudden intrusion. your walls clenched around him immediately, drawing him deeper.
"so tight," he groaned, adding another finger. "and so fucking wet. you've been thinking about this, haven't you?"
you could only nod, your eyes fluttering shut as he began to move his fingers in a slow, deliberate rhythm. his thumb found your clit, circling it with just enough pressure to make you see stars.
"open your eyes," he commanded, his voice firm but not harsh. "i want to see you."
you struggled to obey, your heavy lids fighting to stay open as waves of pleasure washed over you. when you finally managed to focus on him, you were met with a smug, confident smirk that made your stomach flutter.
"that's it," he praised, curling his fingers just right. "taking my fingers so well."
your response was a broken moan as he increased his pace, his thumb working faster against your sensitive nub. the coil in your stomach tightened rapidly, threatening to snap at any moment.
"not yet," he warned, sensing how close you were. "i want to hear you beg first."
"please," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "jungkook, please..."
"please what?" he teased, slowing his movements almost to a stop. "use your words, baby."
"please let me come," you begged, tears of frustration and pleasure welling in your eyes. "i need it so badly..."
he considered you for a moment, his expression unreadable. then, without warning, he plunged his fingers back inside you, hitting that perfect spot over and over again as his thumb pressed firmly against your clit.
"come for me then," he commanded. "all over my fingers."
the permission was all you needed. your back arched off the couch as your orgasm crashed over you, intense and overwhelming. you cried out his name as waves of pleasure pulsed through your body, your walls clenching rhythmically around his fingers. you came hard, soaking them.
“aw, baby,” he teased, slipping his fingers out, “made a mess all in your panties, didn’t you?”
he kissed your forehead, “don’t worry. we’ll have you all cleaned up when we get home.”
you didn’t look disheveled, but there was a distinct haze in your eyes that wasn’t there before. you put your head on his shoulder, your hair brushing against his neck.
when the server came back, he paid the bill without even giving you a chance to suggest splitting, you murmuring a soft “thank you,” planting a kiss onto his cheek, something he was beginning to crave.
the ride to your house was short.
you both were slightly tipsy, but jungkook was coherent enough to drive, one hand on the wheel and one on your thigh.
your apartment was humble and simply decorated. you didn’t give him much time to look at it before you kissed him.
when you walked him to your room, he wasn’t paying attention, more focused on you and deepening this kiss.
the room had posters scattered all over the walls, typical for a young person.
until he noticed one specific one.
it was a bts poster. not just any old picture, he knew exactly when the picture was taken. he was twenty-four, and the group was about to go on hiatus. he was mid laugh, and he remembered namjoon making some joke that cracked him up. namjoon was always funny to him.
his lips lost all rhythm.
you weren’t some girl who didn’t know who he was. you were a fan.
his mind raced. did you plan this? was he stupid? the signs were right there.
his heart dropped.
you never wanted him, you wanted the idea of him. the idea of being with a pop star. jungkook swallowed.
how could he not see it? the way you stared at him in that club. your evasiveness. your nervousness.
he pulled back, your shirt slipping off your shoulder. you responded with a confused look. he just kept staring at the poster.
“jungkook, what—“ you cut yourself off when you saw what he was looking at. your smile dropped.
he looked down at you, and he saw horror behind your wide eyes.
“how long?”
“i…” you trailed off. you looked away from him in an attempt on retain composure, “i was going to tell you, b-but i got scared and…”
you kept going, but he stopped listening. he should be terrified. angry that you didn’t say what you were. storm out of your room and block you.
but your room smelled like cocoa and vanilla.
your eyes became glossy with unshed tears.
and he knew he was in too deep to stay upset.
“…i want you to know that i never cared about the money or the fame, i just wanted—“
he interrupted your trembling words with a kiss. not a normal one—one that said i don’t care. i want you.
your taste was addicting, like the fruity drink you ordered at the lounge. your lips were the softest he’d ever kissed.
he walked you to your fluffy pink bed as he kissed you like he was drinking you in. his tongue explored your mouth freely. you laid back on the bed. he crawled over you.
he couldn’t comprehend it. how could someone like you—someone so beautiful, funny, charismatic, shy, strange, stubborn, perfect—sit in your pretty little room and listen to his music religiously enough to have a poster up in your room?
he pulled back, a string of saliva the last thing that connected your swollen lips to his.
“jungkook…” you whispered.
“baby, you’ve really been a fan of me this whole time?”
you nodded, slightly dazed, “i’ve been a fan since 2018.”
that was when he snapped.
he slid your hands up and under his shirt to feel the hard planes of his torso. maintaining eye contact, you slid his shirt up further and further until he lifted his big arms and let you fully take it off.
you studied him for too long, eyes trailing his wide shoulders and muscular torso. your pupils dilatad. goosebumps crawled up his arms.
he hadn’t ever been more grateful than then that he stayed consistent at the gym.
when he got up to take off his pants, you got the memo and slipped off your clothing.
he turned back to you. you were bare, laying back against the bed. he froze. not because of your body. because of you.
you weren’t trying to be anything. you weren’t posing, weren’t hiding, weren’t performing. you just looked up at him, soft and a little shy, like you didn’t even realize what you were doing to him.
like you didn’t know how beautiful you were.
jungkook’s breath caught in his chest.
for a second, he didn’t move at all.
his eyes traced you slowly, almost reverently, like he was afraid if he rushed it, the moment would break. the soft curve of you against the sheets, the way your hair fanned out beneath you, the warmth in your gaze that was still fixed on him.
“hey,” you murmured, your voice small, a little uncertain under the weight of his stare.
that snapped something in him.
he stepped closer without thinking, slower this time, like he was approaching something fragile. something sacred.
his hand reached out, hesitating just for a second before brushing lightly against your arm.
“you’re…” he started, then stopped, his throat tightening.
he let out a quiet breath, shaking his head slightly, almost in disbelief.
“…you’re so pretty,” he finished, softer than anything he’d said all night.
his strong hands flipped you onto your stomach with ease. you let out a soft gasp.
you arched your back almost instinctively. he bit his lip, lining up.
“are you sure you want this?” he whispered.
you nodded eagerly, “i need it.”
that was when he pressed inside. you were so tight, he had to fight the urge to come right then and there.
your walls clenched around him. his vision blurred at the edges. he let out a ragged groan, the sound vibrating through his chest and into yours. he started to move, a slow, deep rhythm that stole the air from your lungs. each withdrawal was a sweet agony, each return a blissful homecoming. you could feel every thick inch of him, the vein pulsing on the underside of his shaft as he dragged against your sensitive inner walls.
he leaned over you, his hot breath fanning across the back of your neck, the silver of his lip piercing a cool contrast against your flushed skin. "fuck," he let out, his voice a low, strained rumble. "you feel... you feel like you were made for me." his hands, large and warm, slid up your back, tracing the curve of your spine before his fingers tangled in your hair at the nape. he didn't pull, just held you, a grounding, possessive touch that made you whimper.
you pushed back into him, meeting his thrusts, a silent plea for more. he understood. his pace quickened, the sound of skin meeting skin filling your room, a sound that mingled with your soft cries and his harsh breaths. the coil in your belly wound tighter, impossibly tight, a spring ready to snap. "jungkook," you gasped, his name a prayer on your lips as your fingers scrabbled for purchase on your pink sheets. "i can't... it's too much."
"no, baby," he rasped, his rhythm becoming more deliberate, more punishing. he angled his hips, and the next thrust hit that spot deep inside you that made stars explode behind your eyes. "you can take it. you will take it." his free hand snaked around your hip, his fingers finding your clit, swollen and slick from your last orgasm. he circled it once, twice, a feather-light touch that was your undoing.
jungkook knew he was wrong.
he had you bent over on your own bed, your cheek rubbing against your pink pillow as he thrusted into you again.
he looked up at your walls, several bts posters scattered throughout them. your shelf had a stack of albums. he even noticed a cooky plush on your bed.
“sweet girl,” he murmured, tattooed hand gripping your hip to get a new angle, “‘got my posters all over your room.”
a blush crawled up your neck as you arched your back further.
“i wanted this for so long,” you whined.
“i know, baby, i know,” his voice was rough with a cocky edge. he snapped his hips harder to hear the little whimper you let out. “never thought your bias would split you open like this, huh?”
you shook your head.
he picked up his pace. you let out a soft, breathy moan, fingers clutching the soft sheets, voice all sweet and trembling like melted sugar. “jungkook… right there—please…”
he tugged a your hair, “yeah? you’ve been such a good girl for me. saving this sweet pussy just for me? dripping all over my cock because your favorite finally noticed you… so fucking cute. you gonna cum for me? gonna make a mess on the dick you’ve fantasized about for years?”
his filthy words made you clench around him. your voice came out even softer, shy and adoring, almost whispering it into the pillow, “mhm… just for you.”
something in the way you said it; so gentle, so genuinely sweet and full of pure affection. hit him right in the chest. his rhythm faltered for half a second, then he pulled out with a wet sound, making you whine at the sudden emptiness.
“turn over,” he ordered, voice thick but urgent. “now. i need to see your face.”
you obeyed instantly, rolling onto your back with those big soft eyes looking up at him, cheeks flushed pink, lips swollen and parted in a little gasp. your hair was messy against the pillow, and the way you looked up at him, all shy and adoring, made his cock twitch hard.
he pushed your thighs apart and slid back inside you in one smooth thrust, groaning at how warm and wet you still were. “there she is, my girl. fuck, look at that face. so pretty for me.“
you reached up, soft hands cupping his face, voice like honey as he started moving again, deep and steady, “jungkook?”
“yeah?”
“i think i love you.”
he froze. the words hung in the air, delicate and devastating. it wasn't the breathy, sex-fueled confession he was used to, the kind whispered in the dark by girls who loved the idea of him. this was different. your eyes, wide and sincere, held no trace of fantasy. you meant it.
"don't," he warned, his voice dropping an octave, losing all its playful arrogance. he started moving again, but the rhythm was different. slower, deeper, almost punishing. "don't say that."
"but it's true," you whispered, your thumbs stroking his cheeks. "i've loved you for so long. even before this. i just... i never thought i'd get to tell you."
every word was a tiny, perfect needle, pricking at the armor he'd spent years building. he looked away from your eyes, his gaze landing on a poster of himself above your headboard—his younger, softer self staring back. the irony was suffocating. he was fucking his fan on a bed surrounded by his own face, and she was telling him she loved him like it was the most natural thing in the world.
"you don't love me," he grunted, his hips snapping a little harder, trying to force the intimacy back into the physical. "you love this. you love the idea of getting fucked by your bias."
"i love you," you repeated, stronger this time, your legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him impossibly deeper. "i love your voice. i love the way you laugh. i love how hard you work. and i love how you feel inside me right now."
he cursed, a low, guttural sound torn from his throat. he buried his face in your neck, his hot breath fanning against your skin. he was losing control. this was supposed to be a conquest, a bit of fun, a story to maybe tell the guys later if he was drunk enough. it wasn't supposed to be this. it wasn't supposed to feel like this.
"look at me," you pleaded softly, your fingers tangling in his hair. "please, jungkook."
he resisted for a moment, then slowly lifted his head. your eyes were glassy with unshed tears, but your expression was full of nothing but adoration. it was terrifying.
"say something," you whispered.
"what do you want me to say?" his voice was raw, vulnerable in a way he hadn't allowed himself to be in years. "that i love you too? i don't even know you."
"you know me," you insisted, your voice trembling slightly. "you're seeing all of me right now. this is me. this is my room. this is my heart."
he groaned and kissed you then, hard and desperate. it wasn't a kiss of passion, but of surrender. he poured all his confusion, his frustration, and the terrifying spark of something he refused to name into it. when he pulled back, his forehead was resting against yours.
“fuck,” he rasped between kisses, “i love you too.”
you pulled back. your eyes widened in disbelief, eyes wet with unshed tears, “really?”
“mhm,” he murmured, going in for another soft, wet kiss.
he pulled back, studying you for a moment. his heart ached.
"you're gonna ruin me," he admitted, the words barely audible.
"good," you breathed, a single tear finally escaping and tracing a path down your temple. "let me ruin you."
he started moving again, his pace now deliberate and intense. every thrust was a question, every drag of his cock against your walls an answer he wasn't ready to hear. he watched your face, memorizing the way your lips parted, the flush on your cheeks, the way your eyes fluttered closed when he hit just the right spot.
"jungkook," you moaned, your hands sliding down through his hair, pulling him closer. "please... come with me. look at me when you come."
he locked his gaze with yours, his hips pistoning faster, the bedframe groaning in protest. the coil in his stomach tightened to an impossible degree. "mine," he whispered breathily in your ear, the words a mix of possession and awe. "my fucking girl."
"yours," you cried out, your body arching off the bed as your orgasm crashed over you. "only yours.”
the sight of you, completely undone beneath him, calling his name with such raw devotion, was his undoing. he came with a strangled groan, his eyes never leaving yours as he emptied himself into you, marking you as his in the most primal way possible.
he collapsed on top of you, his weight grounding you both as you both struggled to catch your breath. the room was silent save for the pounding of his heart against your chest.
after a long moment, he shifted, rolling to the side but keeping you tucked against him. he looked at the cooky plushie squished between your pillows, then back at your peaceful, sated face.
he knew he was wrong. this wasn't just fan service anymore. this was something else entirely. and he was completely, utterly fucked.
“you’re not getting rid of me.”
you kissed his cheek, “good.”
author’s note: it’s finally here! this story was my unhinged baby and i’m glad it wasn’t too unhinged for you guys to like the teaser!!! i hope this lives up to your expectations and thank you for reading🤍
genre: smut, fluff, (kinda) established relationship
warnings: 18+, explicit sexual content, language, car sex, pet names, unprotected sex
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
You and Jungkook have been an off-and-on thing for a while now. Everyone knows that, so when they see the two of you out in public together, not many people spare a second glance. No one except the girls who wish they were you.
Things aren’t exactly perfect between the two of you, but they aren’t horrible either. He’s really fun to be around, and of course, he has his issues, but hell, who doesn’t? He loves you, and you love him, and that’s all that matters.
“Hey, Kookie, I need to go to my cousin’s place,” you tell him, getting up from his couch and going over to the front door where your keys are hanging on the hook.
“What cousin?” he calls from the kitchen.
“Taniyah!” you shout back.
“What are you going for? Will you be back soon?” he asks, finally emerging from the kitchen with a mouthful of whatever he was eating, you assuming it was some sort of pasta.
“Her mom agreed to braid my hair. It shouldn’t take too long,” you tell him.
“Braids, baby? Those take forever every time you get them,” he groans, pulling you into him by your waist. He rests his head in the crook of your neck. “Can I come? I promise I’ll be good,” he tells you before looking up at you with a pout on his lips.
A face you could never say no to. He’s adorable.
You smile at him. “Of course you can, baby,” you tell him, running your hands through his soft hair and ruffling it a bit. You hand him the keys before turning to exit his apartment.
He slaps your ass before you can even get out the door, making it jiggle.
“Gosh, I’m so lucky,” he says, kissing your cheek before locking the door behind the two of you.
“Behave. Remember?” you tell him before giggling a bit.
“Okay,” he groans in defeat, taking your hand and leading you to the passenger door of your car, opening it for you.
“My Prince Charming,” you smile before getting inside.
“Anything for my princess,” he says, kissing your hand, a small smile creeping onto his face.
༻✦༺ ༻✦༺ ༻✦༺
“Ma, I think you’re braiding too tight,” your cousin Kailah says as she looks at the grimace on your face.
“Am I?” she asks, pulling your head back, never letting go of your hair so she doesn’t lose her progress.
Just as you’re about to say no, Jungkook decides to answer for you.
“Probably not. She’s just really tender-headed,” he says, only glancing up at you to see your expression before going back to playing with your cousin Taniyah’s dog, Koko.
You narrow your eyes at him, and he only responds with a sly smirk.
“Now, cousin, no way!” Taniyah laughs.
“Yes way. I rarely ever pull her hair,” he adds.
Your eyes widen at his remark, and that sly smirk suddenly turns into a grin as the room erupts with laughter.
You feel your cheeks start to heat up, not from embarrassment, but from the sudden attention. It seems as if all eyes are on you now. That necessarily wasn’t a bad thing, considering there was one pair you never wanted to leave you.
You flip him off after the laughter dies down, and he only mouths the words, “I will,” and winks at you, making you blush again.
༻✦༺ ༻✦༺ ༻✦༺
“How many more?” you ask, feeling the top of your head.
She swats your hand away. “This is the last one,” she tells you.
Good.
You shout in your head.
After finishing the last one, you finally get up off the cushion placed on the floor, stretching after sitting for so long.
“Go look at it,” she says, referring to your hair.
Going to the bathroom, you turn on the light. Looking at your hair, it looks great, just as you imagined.
Walking back into the living room, you take out your phone to look at it again. “I love it,” you tell her. Putting down your phone, you look at Jungkook, who’s staring at you.
“How do I look?” you ask him. He’s still sitting on the floor.
“Beautiful,” he says with a smirk before getting up and walking over to you, kissing your forehead.
You look up at him, smiling.
“Aw, you two are so cute,” Taniyah says, catching the two of you off guard.
“Right. I wanna be like y’all when I grow up,” Kailah jokes.
“One day,” you tell her, laughing a bit.
Jungkook brushes your hand with his, and you already know what it means.
“Alright, guys, we’re gonna get going. It’s getting late,” you tell them.
“Thank you,” you tell their mom.
“So what’re you guys about to do?” Kailah teases.
You only smile at her.
“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t,” Taniyah says with a smile.
“We won’t. We’re just gonna go make a baby,” you say, catching everyone off guard, even Jungkook.
“Y/N!” the girls blurt out in unison, making you laugh hysterically as you exit the house, Jungkook right behind you.
༻✦༺ ༻✦༺ ༻✦༺
“Oh no, my hair,” you say, looking at the rain as it hits the top of the car before looking over at Jungkook, who usually has a solution for everything.
“Don’t worry. We can wait until it slacks up,” he says, glancing at you with one hand on the steering wheel.
You nod your head before going back to singing along to the songs playing on the radio.
Arriving back at the apartment complex, the rain hasn’t slacked up any, and if anything, it seems to have gotten worse. Jungkook pulls into a parking spot before putting the car in park.
He unbuckles his seatbelt before slightly reclining his seat, sinking lower into it and getting comfortable.
You glance at him before scrolling on your phone.
“You comfy?” you ask playfully.
“Mmm,” he mutters lowly, his tone softer.
“Good,” you tell him before getting slightly more comfortable as well.
“You ready?” Jungkook asks.
Not sure what he’s talking about, since it’s still raining cats and dogs, you ask, “For what?” looking up from your phone.
“To make a baby,” he says, his voice low.
His eyes are full of intent and hunger, sending chills down your spine.
Not knowing what to say from the suddenness of it, you only nod your head, which doesn’t work for him. It never does.
“Use your words, baby,” he says as he props himself up, his elbow on the middle console, his face only inches away from yours.
“Yes.”
You don’t know how he does it, but every time it feels like your first with him. He makes you so nervous, like you’re falling all over again. And he knows it.
“Yes,” you say slowly, bringing a smirk to his face.
He wastes no time grabbing you by the nape of your neck and pulling you into him, kissing your lips slowly and deliberately. You melt into his arms, letting out a deep breath into the kiss that feels like you’d been holding it forever.
Jungkook only chuckles. He finds your nervousness amusing at times.
“Why are you nervous? You know I got you,” Jungkook tells you between kisses, making you whimper slightly.
Not only because it’s true, but because you love the way he talks to you in the heat of the moment. You lean more into him, deepening the kiss, your knees now in the seat as you wrap your arms around his neck.
His hand then trails down to your ass before slapping it harshly and giving it a firm squeeze.
You let out a gasp, giving him the chance to sneak his tongue into your mouth, sucking on your tongue and making the wet spot between your legs even wetter. The only thing keeping it from rolling down your thighs at this point is your shorts and panties.
You break the kiss, looking at his swollen pink lips. He looks back at you, his eyes full of lust.
Never looking away, you grab the hem of his sweats. He already knows what to do without you saying anything. He lifts his hips just enough for you to pull them down in one swift motion.
His member springs out and hits his stomach, making you smile at the sight.
“You’re already so hard for me, baby,” you tell him, leaning back in to kiss his lips. He almost whines when you pull away again.
“Just for you, princess,” he tells you, his voice low, making your stomach flip.
You grab him in your hand, wrapping it firmly around the base.
The two of you have done this tons of times, but you can never get over how big he is and how good he fills you up.
The mere thought makes you feral.
You rub your thumb across his tip, spreading the pre-cum around his head, making his breath hitch and his hips buck slightly at the feeling.
“You okay?” you ask with a teasing smirk on your face.
“Mhm,” he nods, his mouth sealed shut, never once taking his eyes off you.
Slowly and teasingly, you lean over, lowering yourself to his member before licking the base of him, completely neglecting his tip.
His hips become more restless as they buck, asking for more, and his breath becomes more ragged.
“Baby,” he says, his voice coming out in a whimper, making your ears perk up.
“Hmm? What was that, baby?” you ask, even though you completely heard him the first time.
“Y/N, don’t tease me,” he says, trying to sound stern, but it’s hard to do since you drag your tongue across his tip, making him almost forget what he was saying.
“Fuck,” he moans as you bob up and down on him.
You go down as far as you can until he hits the back of your throat, making you gag slightly and bringing tears to your eyes.
You come back up, looking at him with a trail of saliva slipping down your chin onto your shirt. His eyes are now hungrier than ever.
“Get in the back,” he says, his voice demanding.
You put up no fight, only moving to the back seat in one swift movement.
Wasting no time, he quickly follows behind you, now right in front of you. The two of you smash your lips together, fully making out as his hands roam all over your body while removing pieces of your clothing at the same time.
His hands rub over the center of your panties, making you let out a light gasp.
“Fuck, you’re already so wet,” Jungkook tells you, his voice growing more impatient.
He sits up so he’s hovering over you, hooking his arms around the backs of your knees and pulling your lower half closer to him.
Removing your panties and slinging them somewhere in the car, he positions himself so his face is between your thighs.
He lets out a breath, the air hitting your core and sending a chill down your spine.
Kissing the insides of your thighs slowly, teasingly slow, before you can even say anything, he places a small kiss on your clit, making you let out a breathy gasp.
You hear a slight chuckle from him before he licks up and down your slit softly, just how you like.
The cold metal piercing you feel every once in a while sends shivers down your spine.
Without warning, Jungkook inserts a finger inside you, making you moan.
“Fuck! Kookie,” you whine.
He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t even come up for air, but you can feel his smirk.
“That feels so good,” you praise, your voice shaky.
“Does it?” Jungkook asks, his words slightly muffled but still understandable.
Before you can even say anything else, he inserts another finger, completely catching you off guard.
“Oh my fuck, Kookie!” you moan loudly, and if it weren’t for the rain beating on the top of the car, you’d be sure all of his floor-level neighbors would hear you.
Jungkook finger-fucks you while his tongue focuses on your clit.
You feel yourself getting close, and you announce your impending orgasm.
“Kookie, I’m so close,” you tell him, your voice shaky.
“I know, baby,” he tells you, the vibration of his voice sending you over the edge.
“Fuck! I’m cumming,” you moan, your back arching as you grab a fistful of his hair, squeezing his head within your thighs as you ride out your high.
Falling back, you let out breathless breaths as you try to catch your breath, your legs shaking.
Jungkook then comes up from between your legs, taking a deep breath. His mouth glistens with remnants of you.
“Sorry,” you tell him, giggling slightly.
“What for?” he asks with a smirk, coming up to your face and hovering over you.
You then feel his member brush slightly against you, making you nervous. You already know what’s next.
He reaches down, rubbing himself against your folds.
“Fuck, baby, you’re so wet,” he says in a breathy voice, his head falling into the crook of your neck as he places a soft kiss there.
You, on the other hand, can’t relax. He’s so big, and you anticipate it hurting every time.
Jungkook feels the sudden tension, as he always does. He comes up, looking you in the eyes.
“You sure you still want to?” he asks, his voice quiet.
You begin to nod your head before stopping yourself and saying, “Yes.”
“Okay,” he nods, his eyes soft now.
“Just relax. You know I got you,” he tells you, showing his bunny smile.
You take a deep breath through your mouth and out your nose.
“That’s right, baby. Just breathe. Leave everything to me.”
He taps your legs, gesturing for you to wrap them around him, which you immediately do, placing your hands around his neck.
Before you can even gather your thoughts, Jungkook pushes himself into you, making you gasp, close your eyes tightly, and clench around him.
“No, relax,” he says, his voice deep and slightly shaky.
Not even able to form a word, you only whimper before letting your head fall back as you relax your entire body, indulging in the feeling.
Once Jungkook bottoms out, the two of you let out a “fuck” in unison at the feeling.
He then begins to give you soft strokes, barely moving, making sure not to hurt you while also letting you adjust. Your head falls back in pure ecstasy once you finally relax.
“Fuck, Kookie… g-go faster, please,” you moan, tightening your grip around his neck, his face now right next to your ear, letting you hear everything from the way he’s trying to control his breathing to the subtle curse words he’s mumbling softly.
“Is that what you want?” he asks, his voice sounding like he’s holding something back.
“Mhm,” you moan, wrapping your legs around him even tighter. You know what it does to him, but you can’t help it. His moans are so beautiful.
“Fuck, Y/N, d-don’t do that,” he moans in your ear, making you melt.
“Why not? What’s wrong?” You push his head up so he has to look at you, your eyes full of innocence like you’re oblivious to what you do to him.
He only chuckles, not the reaction you were expecting, but nonetheless, here we are.
Sitting up a bit, he then gives you an “I’ll play your game” look before grabbing your ankles and pushing them back a bit before ultimately deciding to just put them on his shoulders.
The look on your face must be priceless, considering it’s taking everything in him to hide his smile, which is still peeking through his facade.
“So you’re telling me you don’t know the effect you have on me?” he asks while rubbing his member up and down your folds with the occasional tap.
You only stare at his member rubbing up against you, not saying anything.
“Huh?” he says, getting your attention before slowly pushing himself back into you, filling you up.
Your eyes roll back as your head falls back onto the seat.
“Yes, Kookie, right there!” you moan out, pulling him closer to you while digging your nails into his back.
“Fuck, Y/N, you’re gonna make me…” he begins before tightly shutting his eyes, his mouth slightly ajar.
“In me…” you manage to get out while Jungkook pounds into you, his release close from how sloppy yet passionate his strokes are getting.
Jungkook opens his eyes to look at you, making sure he heard you correctly.
You only nod your head vigorously, letting him know he did.
“안아줘.”
He says it, and you know exactly what it means, and without hesitation, you take your legs from his neck, wrapping them around his waist, your arms around his neck, holding him tightly like you’re never gonna see him again.
“Fuck,” he moans, sliding his arms underneath you and holding you tightly.
The two of you let out a deep breath. That never gets old.
“I love you so much,” Jungkook says, kissing your cheek.
You smile as you lay under him.
“I love you more,” you tell him.
The two of you stay there for a moment, wrapped around each other while the rain continues to patter against the roof of the car.
Jungkook presses a kiss to your temple before resting his forehead against yours.
“You okay?” he asks quietly.
You nod, a sleepy smile tugging at your lips.
“Yeah.”
“Good.”
Neither of you moves right away. There was never any rush when it came to moments like this. Just the comfortable silence that always seemed to find its way back to the two of you.
A few minutes later, a different sound catches your attention.
The rain.
Or rather, the lack of it.
You glance toward the windshield and notice the heavy downpour has faded into a light drizzle.
“Kookie,” you say.
“Hm?”
“The rain stopped.”
He lets out a dramatic groan and drops his head onto your shoulder.
“Nooo. That means we have responsibilities again.”
You laugh, gently pushing at his chest.
“Come on. Let’s go inside before it starts back.”
“Fine,” he mutters.
Reluctantly, the two of you gather your scattered belongings and get dressed before heading inside where maybe… you take control this round.
I genuinely can’t even begin to put into words how happy this experience made me. Going to a BTS concert has always been a dream of mine, and actually being there felt unreal—like stepping into a moment where nothing else in the world mattered. For those few hours, I felt completely carefree, just lost in the music, the lights, and the love. Time slipped through my fingers so fast, but I soaked in every second like it was something sacred. If I have any regret at all, it’s only that I didn’t find them sooner. I love you, Bangtan 💜 Army forever <3
pairing • 𓂃𝜗𝜚 idol!jungkookxf!reader
word count • 𓂃𝜗𝜚 4.4k
elements • 𓂃𝜗𝜚 That JK live; drunk Jungkook; soft; comfort; confessions; angst
author's note • 𓂃𝜗𝜚 This was inspired by the serious side of the recent JK live. As much as it was hot seeing him with that lollipop looking super-sexy, he seemed so tired. I just wanted to give him a huge hug and tell him that it would all be okay. This was written more or less straight after the live, and I’ve only just managed to get it edited. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it, and as ever, please excuse any errors I may have overlooked.
*I wrote a hurt/comfort JK one-shot last year, Sanctuary, if anyone is interested in themes similar to the ones in this story.
• 𓂃𝜗𝜚 bts masterlist • 𓂃𝜗𝜚 jungkook masterlist • 𓂃𝜗𝜚
Your phone vibrates against the kitchen counter just as the kettle begins to hum.
You almost ignore it. It’s late, and most people who call you at this hour either need a favour or a distraction you don’t have the energy to give. But when you glance at the screen and see Jungkook’s name lit up on the display, you scramble instantly to answer it.
You always make time for him.
“Hey.”
At first, there’s only noise. Music spilling through a speaker, distant voices, and the faint echo of a microphone picking up movement. Then his familiar voice comes in, quieter than the background, slightly delayed like he’s deciding whether he should be talking at all.
“Are you busy?”
He doesn’t slur, not really, but his words are slower than usual, each one placed instead of spoken.
You turn the stove off without looking. “No. Where are you?”
There’s a small pause before he replies. “Home.”
You’re confused for half a second, until you hear the unmistakable instrumental of a karaoke track looping behind him. “The karaoke room?” you ask.
“Yeah.” He’s quiet for a moment, and you wait patiently, letting him go at his own pace. “I didn’t know who else to call.”
Your heart squeezes. “Are you alone?”
“No, I had some people here.” He exhales, long and tired. “Most of them left, but a couple are still downstairs I think. I told them I wanted to stay up here for a bit.”
You can picture it easily, the private karaoke room he had installed, the ambient lighting and the screen glowing in a space designed for fun that now feels too big for one person.
“Have you been drinking?” you ask gently.
He makes a soft sound that might be a laugh. “Yeah.”
“How much?”
He takes a moment before answering. “Just a few.”
That’s not a number, but it tells you what you need to know. You lean back against the counter and take a deep breath. “Alright, Kook,” you tell him. “−I’m coming over.”
“You don’t have to,” he says quickly, the words tumbling out before you finish the thought. “I just… I wanted to hear someone who knows me. The real me, you know. Not the me people are having fun with tonight.”
An ache hits you and you squeeze the phone in your hands. “I’m coming,” you repeat. “Just stay where you are, I’ll take a cab.”
“Okay.”
The line stays open for a second longer, neither of you speaking. You hear him shift, the faint clink of glass against the table, and the karaoke track restarting again and again without anyone singing.
Then someone’s voice drifts faintly through the phone from somewhere in the house. “Yah, Jungkook! You still alive up there?”
His voice changes instantly when he answers to a brighter, more automatic tone. “Yeah, I’m good!”
Jungkook lowers his voice again for you. “Text me when you’re close,” he says, and the call ends.
You compose yourself and get ready in record time, before grabbing your keys. The drive feels longer than it should. Although there isn’t too much night traffic, it feels like you have too much time to think. You’ve known Jungkook long enough to recognize the difference between tipsy Jungkook, and the one too many Jungkook −two entirely different concepts.
Tipsy Jungkook gets louder, more playful, sending you voice notes of him singing off-key or videos of him challenging someone to a game he’s already decided he’ll win. But tonight, he had spoken quietly, seemed almost distracted, and even asked if you were busy.
Your phone pings with a text when you turn onto his street. It’s Jungkook.
‘Let the gate know it’s you.’
You reply with a quick ‘Here’ and his security opens without delay.
The house is lit, but not too brightly. Warm light spills through the windows, shadows moving occasionally inside, giving proof that some of his friends are still there winding down. The staff member who opens the door greets you politely, already aware you’re expected.
“He’s upstairs,” she informs you. “In the karaoke room.”
You thank her quietly as you slip off your shoes. The house still carries the after-sound of a gathering and you hear voices somewhere distant, accompanied by a burst of laughter from the living area. Music from a different era plays in the background.
Upstairs, the hallway is dim and the karaoke room door is closed. Music leaks through it; an instrumental track looping, untouched. You knock once and wait for a moment.
Then you hear him, “Yeah?”
You push the door open. The room glows in blue and purple from the screen, and the microphones sit unused on the table. A couple of glasses sit near the edge, one empty, one half-finished. Jungkook’s leather jacket is draped over the back of the couch.
He’s sitting in the corner, hands loosely clasped together as he plays idly with his rings, staring at the screen like he had forgotten it was there. His hair is pushed back from his face from running his fingers through it too many times, and there’s a quiet heaviness in the way he holds himself, shoulders rounded forward instead of relaxed.
When you step inside, he looks up. For a moment, there’s no expression, just recognition slowly settling in, like his brain is catching up to the fact that you’re actually here. Then relief floods his features, followed by a small, visible release in his shoulders, the tension easing by a fraction.
“You came,” he says.
You close the door behind you, the music muffling into a distant hum. “Of course I did.”
He watches you walk closer, eyes following you the whole way like he’s making sure you won’t disappear if he looks away. When you sit beside him, the couch dips slightly under your weight, and you both sit in the silence.
Up close, you can smell the alcohol. His eyes are slightly reddened, and a tad unfocused around the edges. He isn’t inebriated enough to lose control, but he’s certainly had a good few − enough that whatever he’s been holding in isn’t packed away as tightly anymore.
“You okay?” you ask.
He lets out a breath through his nose. “I thought tonight would help.”
“With what?”
There’s a long pause.
“With feeling normal for a few hours.” His gaze drops to his hands. “They were all having fun,” he continues quietly. “Laughing, drinking and singing like idiots. I was trying, I really was.”
The karaoke track restarts again behind you, the opening notes looping for the fourth time since you’ve been here.
“I kept thinking,” he says, lowering his voice, “Why does it still feel like I’m working?”
You don’t answer right away because you know that feeling he’s talking about. Not the scale of it, or the weight of cameras, expectations and millions of eyes −but the kind of tired that comes from performing happiness when your energy ran out hours ago.
You lean back slightly into the couch, turning your body toward him without crowding him. “What made it feel like that?” you ask gently.
He shrugs, but it’s slow and heavy. “I don’t know. Everyone was being nice. They were relaxed. I invited them because I wanted that.” His hands rub together absentmindedly, like he’s trying to steel himself through the motion. “But every time I laughed, I kept thinking about how I looked doing it.”
His mouth presses into a thin line, and he looks at you with widened eyes.
“Is this too loud? Am I drinking too much? Should I stop? Should I sing? If I sing, is it weird if I’m good? If I’m not good, will someone record it?” He lets out a quiet breath. “I couldn’t turn it off.”
The karaoke track restarts again but neither of you reach for the remote.
“That sounds exhausting.”
He glances at you, almost surprised by how simple your response is. “It’s stupid,” he mutters.
“No, Kook. It’s not.”
His voice drops. “They can just be twenty-somethings. Messy, loud, dumb as they want −no one cares.” His eyes move back to the screen, but you can tell he’s not really seeing it. “If I’m messy, it’s a headline. If I’m quiet, people ask what’s wrong. If I go out, it’s news. If I stay in, it’s a rumour.”
He exhales, shoulders sinking further. “I just wanted one night where I didn’t think about any of that.”
The honesty in his voice is raw and unguarded now. Alcohol didn’t make him emotional, it simply lowered the walls enough for the truth to come out without being edited.
You study him for a moment. There’s something else layered under the frustration.
“Did something happen tonight?” you ask.
You notice a small hesitation, before he answers quietly. “Someone asked if I was going to sing my own songs.”
You wince internally.
“I know they didn’t mean anything,” he continues quickly. “They were excited, but everyone turned to look at me like it was a performance.” His jaw tightens. “So I sang something else, and they seemed happy enough watching that.”
He lets out a short breath that isn’t quite a laugh. “I couldn’t even be bad on purpose.”
Silence settles between you for a few seconds. Then you reach forward and finally grab the remote, stopping the looping track and the room goes quiet. Jungkook looks at you.
“You don’t have to be anything in here,” you say, holding his gaze. “Not good, not entertaining, you don’t even have to be impressive. You can just be tired.”
Something in his expression softens again, the tension around his eyes easing. “I am tired,” he admits.
“I know.”
For a moment, he just sits there, breathing more evenly than when you arrived. Then you hear his stomach growl loudly enough that neither of you can ignore it. Jungkook freezes, looking down like maybe the sound didn’t actually happen.
Your lips press together, fighting a smile. “Have you eaten?” you ask.
“I had a few snacks.”
“What kind of snacks?”
He thinks. “Some chips.”
You stare at him. “That’s not food.”
“I wasn’t hungry earlier.”
You stand up before he can protest. “I’m making you something.”
He looks up immediately. “You don’t have to do that.”
“You called me,” you say, already moving toward the door. “This is part of the service.”
That earns a small, tired smile. “I don’t even know what I have,” he says as you open the door.
“I do,” you answer. “You always have ramen. Everyone always has ramen.”
There’s a hum behind you. “Yeah, I guess.”
The kitchen is quiet compared to the rest of the house. Most of the lights downstairs are dimmed now, and the remaining guests are gathered somewhere farther away, their voices indistinct. No one stops you or questions why you’re here.
You move easily through the space having been here enough times to know where things are, assembling your ingredients methodically. Two packs of ramen, eggs, green onions from the fridge.
Perfect.
As the water begins to heat, you hear slow footsteps behind you, but you don’t turn right away because you know it’s him.
“You were supposed to stay upstairs,” you say.
“I didn’t want to be alone,” he says quietly.
You glance over your shoulder to see Jungkook leaning lightly against the doorway, hair falling forward again over his forehead in cute bangs. He looks less tense than he did in the karaoke room, but there’s still a quiet heaviness in his posture.
“Sit,” you tell him, nodding toward the counter stools.
He listens immediately, lowering himself onto one and resting his arms on the counter, watching you intently. The sound of boiling water fills the space.
“Thank you for coming, Y/N.”
You crack the eggs into the pot. “You don’t have to thank me for that.”
“Yeah, I do,” he insists. “I almost didn’t call.”
You glance over at him. “Why?”
His fingers trace the edge of the counter. “I didn’t want to ruin your night.”
You turn the heat down. “You didn’t ruin anything.”
Jungkook watches you add the seasoning and the green onions with careful movements made with care.
“Do you ever get tired of being the person I call when I’m like this?” he asks suddenly.
The question hangs in the kitchen longer than the steam rising from the pot. You turn the heat off before answering, giving yourself a second to make sure you say it without rushing. Then you face him.
“No,” you say.
His eyes search your face, like he’s checking for the version of that answer people give when they’re being polite.
You slide the ramen into a bowl, adding the egg carefully so it doesn’t break. “I don’t get tired of you needing me,” you continue. “I’d get tired if you stopped calling.” You set the bowl in front of him and hand him chopsticks. “Because that would mean you’re carrying everything alone.”
He looks down at the ramen instead of you. For a moment, he just stares at it, like the warmth coming off the bowl is something he has to adjust to.
“Eat,” you say firmly. “You need to get something inside you to soak up that booze.”
Jungkook’s face flushes. “I try not to need people too much,” he says quietly. “I don’t want to be a burden on anyone.”
“I know,” you tell him, leaning against the counter across from him. “You’re not a burden, Kook. You’re human.”
For a few seconds, the only sound is him blowing on the noodles before taking a bite, but the effect of your words is immediate. His shoulders drop just enough that you can see the tension leaving him bit by bit.
He begins to eat slowly at first, then a little faster, like his body is catching up to the fact that it’s actually hungry. Halfway through the bowl, he glances up.
“This is really good,” he says with a smile.
“It’s ramen,” you say.
“It’s good ramen.”
You smile back, it’s hard not to.
Jungkook keeps eating. There’s something about watching him sitting at his own kitchen counter at nearly midnight, eating like he hasn’t had a real meal all day. When he finishes about two-thirds of it, he slows again.
“Better?” you ask.
He nods, chewing down another mouthful. “Yeah,” he replies. “I didn’t realize how bad I felt until now.”
That doesn’t surprise you. Physical exhaustion always makes everything else heavier. You push a bottle of water toward him, and he drinks most of it without stopping.
“I don’t know how other people do it.”
“Do what?”
“Be normal.” His fingers tap lightly against the bowl. “Turn their brain off when they’re out. Not think about how they look, who’s watching, or what this moment might turn into later.” His mouth tightens slightly. “Even tonight, in my own house, I kept wondering if someone would post something or if I said something weird. Even whether I seemed tired.”
Jungkook gives a small, humourless breath. “I feel like I’m always monitoring myself, even when I’m supposed to be relaxing.”
You listen to him without interrupting, knowing it’s better out than in.
“I don’t remember the last time I went somewhere and didn’t think about tomorrow’s reaction,” he continues. “−Or how it’ll be interpreted.” His eyes drop to the counter. “Sometimes I feel like I’m watching myself live instead of actually living.”
You reach across the counter and nudge the empty part of the bowl slightly toward the sink, just to give your hands something to do while you choose your words.
“You know what I think?” you say after a moment. He looks up. “I think you’ve been trying to hide your real feelings because you don’t want to bother anyone.”
“Maybe.”
“You make music for people, show up for people and protect people’s image of you,” you explain. “Of course your brain doesn’t know how to turn off.”
He’s quiet, listening carefully.
“That doesn’t make you broken,” you add. “It just means no one ever taught you where the off switch is.”
“What if there isn’t one?”
You move around the counter and stand beside him, and he shifts slightly to make space without thinking.
“You don’t need an off switch,” you say. “You just need places where you don’t have to be on.”
You rest your hands lightly on the counter next to his. “This is one of those places.”
He looks at you and you see something fragile in his expression now, the kind when someone comes to a realisation.
“It feels like that,” he admits. “Can we go back upstairs?”
“To the karaoke room?”
He shakes his head. “I just don’t want to sit down there where everyone is,” he says. “But I don’t want to be alone either.”
You pick up his empty bowl. “Then you won’t be alone.”
He watches you rinse it, his posture already a little looser than when he followed you down. As you turn off the kitchen light, he falls into step beside you automatically. Halfway up the stairs, he turns to you.
“Can you stay for a while, Y/N?”
“Of course,” you say without any hesitation.
By the time you reach the main floor again, the energy of the night has thinned out. There is no more music drifting from the other rooms, and you don’t hear any more laughter. There are only a few low voices somewhere near the living area.
Jungkook slows as you step into the open space, like he’s bracing himself to switch back into social mode. One of his friends looks up from the couch, notices you, then looks at him.
“Oh, you good?” the friend asks casually.
“Yeah,” Jungkook replies calmly. “I’m good.”
“Alright. We’re probably heading out soon anyway. It’s late.”
Another voice from the kitchen calls out, “I ordered a car already!”
A few minutes later, there’s the quiet shuffle of jackets being picked up, shoes being slid on and the sound of goodbyes as Jungkook walks them to the door. You watch the way he moves −polite, warm and attentive. Whatever edge he was carrying earlier has dulled.
When the door finally closes, Jungkook stands there for a second, hand still on the handle. As he turns back toward you, the difference is visible.
“They’re all gone?” you ask.
“Yeah.”
It’s just the two of you now as he walks toward the living room, then glances upstairs. “Do you want to go back to the karaoke room?” he asks.
“Do you want to?” you ask gently.
He thinks for a moment, then shakes his head. “No, I don’t think so,” he says. “Can we just sit somewhere normal?”
“Normal sounds good.”
You move to the living room and settle onto the couch. He turns off the remaining lights, leaving only a warm lamp near the corner. The house feels completely different now, quiet and private.
He sits beside you, leaning back into the couch, his head tips slightly toward you. “I let too much get to me tonight,” he says. “I shouldn’t have.”
“That happens.”
“I feel stupid for getting overwhelmed in my own house.”
You turn toward him. “You were hosting, that’s not the same as relaxing.”
He considers that. “I kept checking if everyone was having fun,” he admits. “If the food was enough or the music was good or if anyone looked bored.”
“When was the last time you went somewhere and didn’t feel responsible for how it went?”
He opens his mouth, then closes it again. “I don’t know,” he says. “I think I forgot how to just exist around people.”
“You exist around me all the time,” you point out.
He glances at you. “That’s different.”
“How?”
“You don’t react to me like I’m… me.”
You raise an eyebrow. “You are you.”
He shakes his head, searching for the words. “You don’t watch me or wait for me to be interesting,” he explains. “With you, I don’t feel like I have to manage myself as much.”
You lean back into the couch beside him. “You don’t,” you say simply.
For a while, the two of you sit there, the quiet stretching comfortably. Then, slowly, he shifts again, his shoulder brushing yours lightly.
You don’t move away. A few seconds later, he lets a little more of his weight rest there.
“I think I’ve been tired for a long time,” he says wearily.
His breathing slows, his head tipping sideways carefully until it comes to rest against your shoulder. The way his body relaxes afterward tells you he’d been holding himself up for much longer than just tonight.
His weight settles gradually against you. At first it’s just his head on your shoulder, his breathing evening out, the tension leaving him in layers. Your own breathing becomes careful, so you don’t disturb whatever fragile calm he’s finally found.
A few minutes pass like that before his hand shifts absentmindedly, his fingers sliding across the couch between you until they graze yours and pause there. You let yours meet his and the moment you do, his hand closes around yours.
His thumb caresses across your knuckles, you feel his breathing get deeper, heavier with the edge of sleep.
“I’m really glad I called you.”
Jungkook’s voice is rough with exhaustion, his words slower, softened by alcohol and the long day behind him.
“I’m glad you did,” you answer gently.
“You always come,” he murmurs.
You don’t know what to say to that without making it heavier than it needs to be, so you squeeze his hand once.
“I’m always here,” you tell him.
His head shifts slightly against your shoulder, settling more comfortably. You think he’s drifting off. Then his voice comes again, words slipping out because he’s too tired to hold them back.
“I don’t say this enough−” he starts, the words uneven but honest. “But I don’t know what I would do without you, Y/N. When I’m with you, I don’t feel like I have to be anyone else.”
“That means a lot, Kook,” you say.
“I trust you the most.”
There’s a fragile openness in the way he says it, like a pure and unfiltered truth. His breathing catches slightly, like he’s hovering between sleep and waking.
Then, almost against your shoulder, he whispers, “I love you.”
Your heart stutters, because you know this moment isn’t about what comes next. This is the version of him that’s too tired to protect himself, the version that trusts you enough to fall apart a little.
So instead of speaking, you turn your head and rest your cheek lightly against his hair. Your free hand comes up to smooth the strands back from his forehead. His hand tightens on yours once more and a quiet exhale leaves him as if something inside him finally settled.
After that, his weight grows heavier against you and his breathing evens out completely.
He’s finally asleep.
You stay like that for a few minutes, just to be sure. His grip loosens slightly, but his hand doesn’t let go of yours entirely. Even in sleep, his fingers remain hooked around yours, like he’s still holding onto the one thing that made the night feel safe.
Carefully, you shift.
“Hey,” you murmur, just to move him without startling him. He makes a small sound, barely awake. “I’ve got you,” you whisper.
Slowly, you guide him to lean back against the couch. He goes easily, heavy with sleep, his head tilting toward you again as you ease him down. You slide a cushion under his head, adjusting it until his neck isn’t strained.
His hand searches once, briefly, and you place your hand back in his. Only then does he settle.
You sit beside him for a moment longer, your thumb moving lightly over his knuckles the way his had done on yours earlier. Up close, he looks younger like this. The constant awareness he carries is gone from his face, replaced by something natural and unguarded.
Gently, you reach for the edge of his jacket. “Let’s get you comfortable,” you say.
You ease his arm out first, slow and careful so you don’t wake him, and then the other. Jungkook stirs once but doesn’t open his eyes, his breathing staying deep and steady.
You fold the jacket and place it over the back of the couch. A throw blanket rests nearby which you shake out quietly and drape it over him, tucking it lightly around his shoulders and down his side.
He shifts under it, curling slightly toward where you’re sitting, instinctively seeking the warmth of you. You slide a little closer and let your hand rest gently against his hair again, stroking him with the same calming motion you’ve used before when he was too wired to sleep after long hours that bled into days.
He’s completely out now. For a long time, you sit there with him. Your hand stays in his hair, the other loosely held in his, his grip relaxed but still there. You don’t know what tomorrow will bring −whether he’ll remember everything he said or pretend he didn’t.
But that can wait. Right now, he’s sleeping and peaceful, and he isn’t carrying the weight of anyone else’s expectations.
Jungkook is safe with you.
You lean back into the couch, mindful not to pull your hand away. “I’m here,” you whisper, though he’s already asleep.
And after a while, with the steady rhythm of his breathing beside you, the quiet reaches you too.
You’re a photographer used to praising everyone behind your camera—everyone except him. When Yoongi notices, he decides he doesn’t want the shoot to end just yet… especially if it means finally getting the truth out of you.
─ -ˋ °. • ⚘ •. ° ˊ- ─
“Wow, you’re doing great, Taehyung,” you say, praising him as you continue to click pictures of him. You take the camera away from your face for a moment. “Have you really never considered modeling?” you ask, making him smile his beautiful boxy smile.
He only nods his head no. “You should,” you tell him. “Well, this was your last shot today. You did great, as always.”
This was your third time shooting for the biggest group in the world right now. You loved to praise them and tell them how good they looked and how amazing they were doing. Not only because they were, like, face cards never decline, but because it made them more comfortable and confident, which made the shoots go by faster.
“I can finally wrap up and head home,” you say, beginning to disassemble your things.
“Wait, no. Yoongi hyung is your last person today,” Taehyung tells you.
“Yoongi?” you ask, swiftly turning your head to make sure you heard him correctly.
“Mm-hmm,” he hums, nodding.
“Oh. O-okay,” you say, your heart flipping in your chest and your ears heating up, your hair covering them and saving you the embarrassment.
Yoongi always intimidated you the most. It was even hard for you to praise him like you did the others. Not like he reacted to your words of approval anyway.
“Wow! Y/N, these look great! You haven’t even edited them yet,” Taehyung says, looking at your computer where the photos go after you snap them.
“Edit?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.
You scoff. “I never have to edit you guys’ photos. You’re all perfect.”
He points at you, smiling. “You say all the right things,” he tells you, hugging you and ruffling your hair.
“Heyyy!” you complain, brushing it back down as he chuckles.
“See you tomorrow, Y/N,” he says before leaving.
You sigh and walk over to the racks, adjusting a few things.
“Hey, Ms. Y/N!” a voice calls, startling you. You turn to see Manager Sejin.
“Yoongi is your last shot today. He has three wardrobe changes. He’s perfectly capable of dressing himself,” he explains, still not quite getting to the point.
“There’s a ‘but.’ What is it?” you ask.
“Something important came up. The stylist had to leave,” Sejin tells you bluntly.
Your eyes widen. “What?”
“What’s the problem? I know you’re perfectly capable of handling it. Remember when you fixed Jimin’s makeup? It looked better than it did the first time,” he reassures you.
You only nod.
“Great. See you tomorrow,” he says, quickly heading out.
You hear footsteps entering the room again. You don’t dare look behind you.
It’s him.
You know it’s him.
The closer the steps get, the harder your heart thumps in your chest.
The steps stop right next to you. You glance over, only to be met with the sight of the most beautiful man you’ve ever laid eyes on.
Yoongi. Min Yoongi.
His black hair is parted down the middle and slicked back, yet a few strands fall into his face. His white button-up shirt and black tie make him look almost like he’s ready for a fancy date.
Feeling the blood rush to your cheeks, you quickly move on.
“You ready?” you ask, not giving him time to answer.
“Great,” you say to yourself, returning to your spot and leaving him at the backdrop.
Yoongi slips his hands into his pockets, wearing a straight, model-like expression. You don’t say anything aloud as you snap the pictures, but in your mind, he’s receiving some of the best praises a man could ever want.
You continuously snap photos, prompting him to try different poses. As the two of you continue, you blush behind the camera.
Just as you’re sure you can finish the last few shots, Yoongi begins to squirm.
A lot.
You try to get as many pictures as you can without saying anything, but they’re all coming out blurry.
“Hold still,” you say, a bit harsher than intended. “Please,” you quickly add.
He doesn’t respond. He doesn’t even stop moving.
You sigh, slightly annoyed. You know he heard you. There’s no one else here. The only sound is the camera shutter.
Making a bold move, you walk over to him until only inches separate you.
“Yoongi, hold still,” you tell him.
“This could go a lot faster if you did,” you add.
He sits on the stool behind him, now eye level with you.
“What if I don’t want this to be over quickly?” he asks, catching you off guard.
“H-huh?” you stutter.
“Why don’t you praise me during my shoots like you do the others?” he continues.
“I, well…” you begin, unsure how to answer professionally.
“Am I not attractive?” he asks, his eyes faintly hurt.
Your mouth speaks before your brain can stop it.
“No! That’s not true at all. You’re so attractive. Beautiful, even. So beautiful that I can’t even stand to face you during these shoots. All of you are gorgeous men, don’t get me wrong. But you… Min Yoongi, you are the most beautiful man I’ve ever laid my eyes on.”
Silence.
You meet his gaze, only to find a smirk resting on his lips.
“What?” you ask, heat rising to your cheeks.
“Did you just admit to having a little crush on me?” he teases, flashing his gummy smile.
“What? No!” you deny, looking away.
“Hmm. That’s too bad, because I like you too,” he says casually.
“You like me?” you ask softly.
He simply smiles and holds out his hand.
You hesitate, staring at it before finally placing your hand in his.
“Let’s get out of here,” he says, standing and guiding you forward.
“Wait… won’t I get in trouble? We should finish the shoot. This isn’t professional,” you argue weakly.
“Relax. I’m my own boss, remember?” he reminds you.
He intertwines his fingers with yours.
“Besides, you’re with me. That’s all you need to worry about.”
And just like that, your stomach flips as you fight the smile threatening to take over your face.
warnings! friends to lovers, tension, late night practice, soft angst, kissing.
💜 ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─── 💜
“C’mon, Hobi, you’ve been practicing this one move for hours,” you say tiredly, more exhausted than anything. “I know Y/N but the comeback is less than a month away. It has to be perfect,” he tells you before beginning to start from the top. You quickly go over to him, resting your hand on his bare shoulder since he’s now in a tank top.
“And it is perfect. Hobi, you’re going to do great,” you tell him, giving him a smile.
Hoseok studies your face for a moment, his gaze soft and fixed on you in a way you’ve never seen in the ten years you’ve been friends.
He suddenly snaps out of it, giving you a small smile and shifting slightly so your hand falls from his shoulder. “You’re right. Thank you. I’ll take you home now,” he says quickly, not even making eye contact.
You notice the sudden change in his demeanor, confusion settling in. You glance at the clock on the wall near the exit sign. 1:21 a.m.
“Hoseok, are you okay?” you ask carefully.
“Yeah. I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?” he replies, looking in your direction but not at you.
Noticing his flushed cheeks, you quickly rush over to him while he gathers his things. “Hobi, are you feeling sick? Your face is really red,” you say worriedly, cupping his cheeks with your hands.
“I…” he begins, avoiding your eyes.
“You don’t feel warm or anything,” you say, tilting your head in confusion.
“Well…” he tries again, now blushing even harder.
“What? You’re even more red now,” you say. “Hoseok, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you have a crush on me,” you tease.
Only you end up being the one who should be laughed at.
Hoseok finally makes eye contact with you again, still not saying anything. The tension shifts, suddenly sending heat rushing to your cheeks. He gently moves your hands from his face, letting them fall to your sides as he steps closer, maintaining eye contact.
“Y/N… you have no idea how hard it’s been not to do this.” he says softly, cupping your cheeks before pressing his lips against yours.
The suddenness catches you off guard, leaving you frozen, eyes wide as he kisses you.
After processing what just happened, he pulls away, leaving you stunned. Hoseok looks at you, embarrassed, opening his mouth to say something you can only assume is an apology.
“Y/N, I—”
You shake your head, cutting him off. “No. Hobi, kiss me again,” you say abruptly.
His eyes widen, but he doesn’t hesitate. He pulls you in by the waist with one hand, the other resting on your cheek, kissing you once more.
This time, you kiss him back.
You wrap your arms around his neck, melting into his embrace as the world outside the studio fades into silence.
