@sjynist - Tumblr Blog

NOT SO CASUAL ⟡ 02

pairing. jeon jungkook x fem!reader genre. streamer!jungkook. smut. friends with benefits. friends to lovers. slice of life. roommates au.

you keep falling into the same frustrating pattern with jungkook — every intimate moment, and he goes right back to acting normal. it’s driving you insane, so you decide there’s no better way to break him than while he’s live on stream.

word count. 8.6k words warnings. oc horny as fuck .. whats new. jennie talking oc to her damn senses. jungkook tryna be nonchalant. oc loves talking back. smut. sending nudes. brat taming. use of toy. EDGING AND DENIAL !! fingering. male masturbation. BIG DICK JK. he nuts on her boobs. oral (fem!receiving). bold words are in korean. this is just pure smut.

ana’s notes. girl this one wiped me the fuck out so i hope this is a good enough comeback -_- welcome :3 this is the first ever part 2 ive written for a fic !! oh nsc couple you are so dear to me. i have so much more in store for these two, so i only hope you love them as much as i do. beta read + dedicated to my fave girls @sjynist & @lovieku for showing all the love to nsc, i couldnt have done this without you ♡

01 ⟡ NEXT ⟡ SERIES MASTERPOST

Jungkook was oblivious sometimes.

Sometimes.

Most of the time, he knew the effect he had on people. He was attractive and fully aware of it — used to the stares, the flirting, getting approached constantly.

But what he never seemed to grasp was how deep it really was.

And that was exactly what was happening now.

After that night, he acted like everything was perfectly normal. Still called you bro even after he’d been face deep in your pussy. Still teased and joked around with you like the two of you hadn’t crossed a line you could never uncross.

Not a single mention of it. Not even a slight hint.

However, the worst part wasn’t the lack of acknowledgement. It was that he hadn’t kissed you or touched you since. Not once. Not even accidentally.

And it was killing you.

Now, being in the same room with him was becoming unbearable again — not from your guilt this time, not from tension, but from the temptation and restraint it took to not pounce on him the second he walked in.

And he didn’t make it easy.

He’s in a matching tracksuit today, unzipped just enough to show the black tank top underneath. A silver chain sits against his chest, glinting with every step he takes. His hair is parted down the middle, soft layers curling at the ends, framing his stupidly handsome face.

“Hey, whatchu cooking?” he asks as he strolls into the kitchen, voice lazy, warm.

You inhale slowly, trying to steady the tiny quiver threatening to peek through your voice. It was getting bad. Jungkook had never made you nervous before, not like this. Not to the point where you had to physically contain yourself.

“Nothing fancy…” you mumble, snapping your gaze back down the pot the second you realize you were openly checking him out. “You going somewhere?”

“No,” he chuckles, leaning a hip against the counter. “Why?”

‘Why’ he asks, like he’s not sex on legs right now. Like he doesn’t look good. It’s not even about the outfit anymore — it’s quite the casual outfit. But he makes it look way more outgoing than it actually is.

But you wouldn’t tell him how good he looks.

He’s your best friend, not your boyfriend. Yeah, he licked and dragged his nose against your pussy just days ago, but he still wasn’t your boyfriend! Getting head from your best friend was fine, but you drew the line at compliments.

“Just asking,” you mutter, stirring the pot shakily, the spoon clanging against the sides. “How was your day?”

“Relaxing,” he says, tone going soft. “Took the day off, didn’t realize how tense I usually am when I’m streaming.”

“Well, you’re usually being watched by thousands of people,” you remind him. “That’s not a normal job. Maybe it’s time to start giving yourself more breaks.”

The corner of his mouth lifts in that cocky little smirk. He shakes his head slowly. “Can’t afford that. I’m in the top five streamers in the world right now, baby. Might get that collab with Kai Cenat soon.”

“Look at you,” you sing, smiling at him, dragging the words out just enough to tease.

He gets flustered at that, confidence cracking for a second as his cheeks tint pink, nose scrunching.

“Stop it, stop it,” he mutters, half-laughing, glancing off to the side like he suddenly doesn’t know where to look. Cute. “Need help with anything?”

There’s a couple things you could think of. He could help relieve the absolutely disgusting ache between your thighs, the one that’s been building up since after that night. Maybe he could use his nose again.

Or try something different — maybe he could sink his long tattooed fingers inside of you, curl them against that sweet spot that actually makes you moan out loud. Rub his cock against your folds, tease your entrance a little. Or even just sit there willingly for you to get off just by looking at him, though that wouldn’t satisfy the burning need to feel his mouth on you again, or better yet, his dick splitting you open and pounding into you relentlessly.

But instead of asking him to fuck your brains out…

You just have him help around in the kitchen. Like a normal goddamn person and not some horny desperate bitch whose every thought circles back to his tongue on her pussy.

“Still humble enough to help your best friend cook?” you tilt your head, teasing lilt in your tone.

“Always,” he clicks his tongue, already reaching for the chopping board and knife. “You know I'd never switch up on my day ones.”

You let out a small chuckle as he settles beside you. The atmosphere softens, dipping into something almost domestic — quiet music humming in the background, the low simmer of the stove, cooking food to eat dinner together.

“And you?” he adds, starting on the vegetables. “How did today treat you?”

“Today was… it was okay,” you say quietly.

“That’s it?” he laughs under his breath. “Okay?”

“I don’t know what to say,” you chuckle, but it comes out a little thinner than you mean it to. You suddenly become aware of how close he’s standing — the subtle heat of him, the way his arms move beside you. You lift your brows at him, trying to play it off. “I’m in the presence of a celebrity.”

“Oh please,” he scoffs. He glances at you again, the smile still lingering on his lips, but there’s a slight crease coming between his brows now — observant. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you nod quickly, like if you say it fast enough, it’ll sound convincing. Like it’ll end the conversation before he can look too closely.

You’re okay.

In the normal sense, at least. Mentally, emotionally — you’re fine. Functioning and stable.

Physically is an entirely other story.

He needs to step away from you immediately. Because if he stays this close for even a second longer, you’re not entirely sure you won’t do something reckless.

He doesn’t say anything more. Doesn’t bring up that night when he’d knelt between your legs in the dim light of your bedroom, his breath hot against your core. Doesn’t ask you what’s wrong or why you’re acting so weird.

It’s happening again — this maddening cycle you seem to find yourself in when it comes to Jeon Jungkook. Just like after he hopped into the shower with you, dick pressed up against your back, staring at your breasts, only for him to act so casual the rest of the week.

You’re losing your mind.

Every inhale draws in his scent — clean shampoo mixed with the faint musk of his cologne — making your pussy ache for friction. You press your legs together subtly, but it only worsens the need, your pussy clenching around nothing, desperate for him to just touch you.

And Jungkook standing beside you, chopping onions effortlessly, shouldn’t have you this wet. You can practically feel your arousal dripping out of you.

The silence between you is loud. So loud you can hear it even over the audible bubbling of the sauce in the pot. Over the occasional tap of the knife hitting the cutting board from Jungkook. Over Ariana Grande’s sultry voice from the TV speakers you’d put on before cooking, her lyrics about wanting to get ‘Nasty’ tonight making you hope Jungkook’ll somehow get the hint.

But he doesn’t seem bothered. Not one bit.

God, you were getting really tired of this nonchalant bullshit.

It’s now been a week.

An entire week since that night. Seven whole days. One hundred and sixty-eight hours. Monday. Tuesday. Wednesday. Thursday. Friday. Saturday. Sunday.

And Jungkook still hasn’t acknowledged you. Not in the way you wanted him to, at least.

Not a suggestive touch. Not a flirty comment. He still hasn’t brought that day up.

Nothing.

So you decided you’d make him acknowledge you.

Despite the chilly weather creeping through the apartment, you started wearing shorts around the house every chance you got. Not just shorts — short shorts. The ones you rolled up at your hips, the curve of your ass peeking out from the bottom whenever you bent over.

If he was looking, you didn’t catch it.

He’d glance at you the same way he always did — eyes big and glossy, infuriatingly composed. Just the same neutral expression he wore every other day.

He’d check in about the most ordinary things — what you were watching, what you were cooking, where you were headed — his tone casual, almost absentminded. Sometimes he’d walk right past you without saying anything at all — like you were just another piece of furniture in the apartment.

Meanwhile, your entire body reacted to every small thing. The sound of his footsteps. The faint scent of his clothes. His presence overall.

Then he’d disappear into his room like he hadn't once had his head between your thighs.

You started taking long showers again.

Longer than usual.

The mirror was fogged up beyond recognition, your reflection reduced to nothing but a blurred silhouette. Steam would slip out slowly from beneath the bathroom door, like you were boiling yourself alive in there. The water ran far past what was reasonable. Past responsible. You couldn’t even bring yourself to give a shit about the inevitably hefty water bill.

You were starting to give up.

You didn’t know how much longer you could be around Jungkook before you did something humiliating — like corner him, grab him by that stupid chain around his neck, and start begging him to fuck you.

It was getting pathetic, truly.

You couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t focus. Every little sound he made had your stomach flipping. His laugh through the wall. The low murmur of his voice talking to his chat while on stream.

So you left.

Just like last time.

“Hello?” Jennie greets, blinking in confusion when she opens the door to find you standing on her porch, unannounced and visibly spiraling.

“Jen, I can’t do it,” you whine immediately, brushing past her and walking straight into her apartment like you live there. “We’re going over there tomorrow to start moving my stuff into here.”

She shuts the door slowly, eyebrows lifting. “What happened?”

She follows you back toward the living room, where her freshly washed laundry is spread everywhere — some folded, others waiting to be folded. You don’t even acknowledge that you’ve interrupted her routine, simply curling up on the couch like you belong there.

You hadn't told Jennie about that night with Jungkook. Not about what happened. Not even about the shower.

When you escaped to her place after the shower incident with Jungkook, she didn’t question it. You practically lived here half the time anyway. It wasn’t unusual.

But this time, she knew it wasn’t just to come over to chat, sip on wine, and laugh.

She lowers herself on the carpet in front of the couch, mirroring your crossed legs as she looks up at you, offering you her undivided attention. “Talk.”

“I think I have a crush on Jungkook.”

Jennie freezes completely, eyes widening as she blinks at you like the words didn’t quite register the first time. Her gaze locks onto your face, searching it carefully, as if she’s waiting for you to crack a smile and admit you’re joking.

You don’t.

Her mouth parts slightly, but nothing comes out. She just stares.

The longer the silence stretches, the more your confidence starts to crumble. Your shoulders shift awkwardly, fingers fidgeting in your lap as you avoid her eyes for a moment.

Jennie’s still staring.

And it’s starting to make you nervous.

“Like… our Jungkook?” she asks slowly. “The one you live with, Jungkook?”

“Yes, Jen, that Jungkook,” you snap, panic making your tone more aggressive than you mean it to be. “Who the hell else would I be talking about?”

“I don’t know!” she shouts, shrugging helplessly as she shakes her head. “Surely there’s another one out there!”

She resumes folding the clothes she’d abandoned the moment you barged into her apartment in a frenzy, the motions quick and slightly frantic — each piece snapped into neat folds before being tossed into a growing pile beside her.

“A- are you sure you do, though?” she asks quickly, folding so fast that what’s supposed to be a relaxing routine looks more like a workout. “I mean, I’ve always seen him as a brother. I assumed you did too.”

“Oh my god, ew,” you groan, the sound muffled as you drag your hands down your face. “Please don’t say that. Don't ever say that again.”

“I’m serious!” she insists, the folding coming to a halt. “Maybe you’re just lonely. Or maybe it’s been a while and you’re confusing proximity with feelings!”

“Trust me, my brain is not confused,” you mutter.

She tilts her head. “Why don’t you just hit up Eunwoo again?”

“Fuck no,” you scoff. “He was hot, yes. But he was so… boring. Every time I slept with him, I had to fake it and get the job done myself.”

Jennie gasps dramatically. “No way.”

Her mouth hangs open before a grin threatens to pull at her lips. She tries to fight it. She really does. But the concept of the Cha Eunwoo being boring in bed makes her burst out laughing anyway.

“Jennie!” you shriek. “Focus!”

“Okay! Okay!” she says quickly, holding up her hands as the laughter dies down, though a stubborn smile still lingers at the corner of her lips. She inhales, trying to compose herself, eyes flicking back to you with renewed curiosity. “Well, when did this start?”

You go quiet.

How do you tell your best friend that you’ve been intimate with your other best friend — the one she’s known just as long — without detonating the group dynamic?

She says your name.

Not softly. Not gently. Warningly.

“Okay,” you inhale. “We took a literal shower together and then he noticed I started acting weird after that and I told him I couldn’t stop thinking about him in a way I shouldn’t and then he went down on me and I haven’t stopped thinking about it since and we haven’t talked about that night at all and it’s driving me crazy and I am so close to fucking that man it’s ridiculous!”

Silence.

On her end, at least.

Your chest rises and falls rapidly, breath coming out in short pants like you’ve just sprinted a mile. Everything else suddenly feels too loud in the aftermath of your rambling — the low hum of the heater pushing warm air out of the vents, the slight crackling of the candles lit around her home.

Jennie, however, is completely silent.

She sits there frozen, sweatpants half-folded in her lap, eyes wide and fixed on you, obviously still processing what you just said.

“Well?” you demand, because you cannot sit in this silence any longer. “Say something!”

“I’m sorry,” she says carefully, lifting both hands to her temples and rubbing circular motions like she’s massaging her brain. “I’m just trying to process the fact that my friend ate my other friend's pussy.”

“Jennie!” you shriek again, horrified.

“Okay! Look… you want my honest answer?” she asks, straightening her posture like she’s about to give you a lecture.

You squint at her suspiciously. “I don’t know… do I?”

She doesn’t wait for your approval.

“I think you’re being dramatic, babes.”

You scoff softly, offended. “Excuse me?”

“I do,” she repeats, shrugging. “You’re spiraling instead of just talking to him. I mean… maybe you just need to bring it up to him. That wouldn’t be so bad, would it?”

You chew on your bottom lip, doubt creeping in again. “I don’t know…”

“I mean, it’s clear he wants to fuck you too,” she adds bluntly.

“Ugh,” you moan at the mere thought of it, dropping your face straight into your palms when the image alone makes you unreasonably horny.

“Behave,” Jennie warns, teasingly.

“But what if you’re wrong?” you ask, doubt rushing in instantly. “What if he’s not bringing it up because he regrets it?”

“Oh my god,” Jennie groans, throwing her head back. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“It’s not insane to think that, Jen!” you argue, slapping your hands against the counter. “People regret things all the time!”

She says your name sternly.

“Men who eat don’t regret that shit.”

Your lips pucker up to the side, completely unashamed.

“He did eat it pretty good,” you admit.

“Alright.” Jennie physically recoils, face twisting as she returns to the pile of laundry. “I really, really do not want to hear what Jungkook is like in bed.”

“Oh, because I wanna know about Taehyung?” you retort back immediately.

“Hey! You haven’t known Taehyung for over five years, have you?” she shoots back, grabbing a balled-up pair of socks and tossing it at you. “All I’m saying is, if Jungkook regretted it, he would’ve avoided you. He hasn’t, has he?”

“I mean… no,” you admit, grabbing the socks from your lap and absentmindedly fiddling with them. “But we live together. There’s not much avoiding he could do even if he tried.”

Jennie tilts her head slowly, narrowing her eyes at you. “You did.”

You blink. “That’s- that’s different! I came here. He streams like six hours a day, he can barely leave the apartment.”

“Exactly,” Jennie counters calmly. “He streams like a maniac and still finds a way to talk to you.”

You open your mouth, ready to argue again, but the words stall.

You think about it.

About that night he helped you cook dinner. The casual way he’d ask where you were going whenever he heard your keys jangling, or how he’d check in on you in general.

You swallow.

“Okay, well… how do I even bring this up?” you ask, a little helpless. “I don’t know if you noticed, but I’m not good at this.” you say, as if it wasn’t the most obvious thing in the world.

The smirk spreading across her face immediately makes you nervous.

“I might have an idea…” she says slowly.

You hesitate, already regretting asking. “That is…”

“Depends,” she says, tilting her head, eyes sparkling with mischief. “How bad do you wanna piss him off tonight?”

Jennie was a nasty little shit.

But she was, annoyingly, way better at this than you’d ever be. When it came to guys, she just got it. After all, she had plotted on Taehyung for an entire year before he finally asked her out.

So, reluctantly, you listened.

Her idea of getting Jungkook's attention was raunchy — send him nudes, your bare body laid out like an offering on his phone screen while he was on stream. You thought it was insane, your stomach twisting with a mix of terror and thrill as you fumbled with your keys at the apartment door.

This was an idea that could either fix everything or ruin your life in under five seconds. But quite frankly, it seems a little less nerve-wracking than actually having a conversation about how you want to fuck your best friend, who is also your roommate.

It’s nearing eight when you get back home, Jungkook usually ends streaming at nine. The apartment is dark, blinds already down, and on the kitchen counter, a candle flickers softly — he always leaves it on for you when you get home late.

You quietly head into your room, the door easing shut with a soft click that barely muffles Jungkook’s voice filtering through the thin walls — raspy and low from hours of streaming making your thighs clench involuntarily. He’s bantering with his chat, chuckling at some dumb comment, and just the sound of it hits you like foreplay, already getting you wet.

It’s clearly been a while since anything’s touched you right.

Back at Jennie’s place, you asked her to show you her own pictures as examples. Whatever, you had showered her that one time she was plastered — it wasn’t anything you hadn’t seen before.

It’s not like you hadn’t taken a nude before. In high school, you’d snap quick ones for that one boyfriend who begged. But you stopped doing that in college — potentially getting leaked being your worst fear at the time. You were just inexperienced as this wasn’t something you normally did now, all your boyfriends after high school and random hookups, you just invited them over and got the deed done.

So when you’re clad in a matching set you had bought for nobody but yourself, you stretch out on the bed, cool sheets kissing your bare thighs as you prop your arm high. You think of the advice Jennie gave — what angles were the best, to spread your legs a little, arch your back.

You take a few — one of your ass in the lacy black thong, twisting just enough to get it in the frame, one of your body stretched out across the bed, legs slightly parted, and one without the bra.

You stare at them. Delete one. Retake another.

When you’re satisfied, you toss your phone beside you across the duvet and reach for your bra, pulling it back on like you aren’t about to send Jungkook a picture of your bare boobs anyway. Your pulse is a little too fast as you lean over, grabbing your laptop from your bedside and flipping it open.

The screen lights up your face as you click into the browser, fingers moving quicker, and pull up Twitch. The layout loads before you type in his username.

mnijungkook

You click on the stream marked LIVE, and there he is, blessing your vision.

His hair is a tousled mess, dark strands falling over his forehead while the shorter pieces curl up at the ends. He’s slouched in his gaming chair, the white sweater baggy and oversized, zipped only halfway up his chest to reveal a tantalizing sliver of his creamy skin. That silver cross necklace dangles heavy against his collarbone, clear glasses perched on his nose — both from Chrome Hearts, a heavy purchase he let himself indulge in, and a reminder of the ridiculous amount of money he makes from streaming alone.

It’s clear he’s not wearing a shirt underneath, and you can’t help it when a jealous twinge knots in your stomach, sharp and possessive. Thousands of thirsty girls are tuned in right now, flooding the comments with crude comments and desperate pleas for him to notice them.

He’s taking a break from gaming, just chilling, fingers gently brushing his own lips, that silver ring on his thumb glaring.

It’s the perfect opportunity. And you know just how to steal his attention from his pathetic chat.

You reach for your phone, unlocking it quickly. Messages. His contact. The thread opens, painfully casual — just stupid fucking TikTok’s and you telling him where you were leaving for the day. You click the photos option, scrolling briefly before landing on one of the many raunchy photos you’d just taken.

With trembling fingers, you select one.

Your finger hovers over the send button, hesitating just for a second. Your chest tightens as you glance back up at the screen, at him — smirking and chuckling, probably at some stupid comment he read. Cocky fuck.

Yet, you need that really bad.

You inhale deeply, then press it.

The message sends instantly. The word Delivered shows up underneath the photo, and a second later, the faint ding of his phone echoes through the walls.

Only then do you exhale.

It takes a moment for the stream to catch up, a slight delay that makes the anticipation worsen. But then he’s picking up his phone from the desk, unlocking it absentmindedly as if it’s nothing.

Delivered switches to Read.

You watch closely. His eyes widen — just slightly. He shifts in his chair, clearing his throat, trying to keep his composure like thousands of people aren’t watching him, like his chat isn’t ready to read into every tiny reaction.

Then he realizes the reflection in his glasses.

His hand comes up almost immediately, pushing them up into his hair as his eyes skim the comments flooding in. He scans the chat with clear paranoia now, reading too fast, like he’s trying to catch if anyone noticed anything they shouldn’t have. He gulps, throat bobbing, tension settling in his shoulders before his focus drops back down to your message.

You drop your gaze back to your phone.

And almost immediately, three little bubbles appear.

“Alright, chat,” you hear Jungkook announce, pulling the glasses out of his hair and setting them down on the desk. “Something came up. I’ll see you guys tomorrow. Maybe. I love you all, night.”

It’s abrupt. Just a quick sign-off like he’s trying to get out of there as fast as possible without making it obvious.

The stream ends.

A rush of excitement hits you instantly. You shut your laptop and push it aside, your heart racing now that you won’t have to watch him through a screen anymore.

Seconds later, he’s busting through your door without knocking — like he usually would.

“Hey,” he calls in Korean, the word rough and edged with frustration as he trudges into your room, stopping at the edge of your bed. He doesn’t sit down — instead, he towers over you, face leaning closer to yours, his gentle scent wafting into your space. “What’re you doing?”

His brows are knitted tight, and his ears flush a deep red that creeps down his neck. Your gaze drops instinctively — his sweater hangs as he’s bent slightly, and you can’t help but look inside, where he is, in fact, not wearing a shirt underneath. Then your eyes trail lower as they lock onto the unmistakable bulge straining against his gray sweats.

“Dunno what you mean,” you shrug, forcing a pout onto your lips, playing dumb and feigning innocence. “Just wanted to show you this set I got.”

“Bull. Fucking. Shit,” he spits, leaning even closer until his face hovers mere inches from yours, the necklace dangling from his neck and swinging forward, the cool metal nearly brushing your chest. “You can’t do that while I’m streaming. Thousands of people, and you send me that?”

“What?” you chuckle, light and breathy. “Would you rather I walked in and asked you?”

“Are you being serious right now?” he scoffs in disbelief.

You look up at him, fighting back a smile that threatens to creep up on your lips, your body aching with need — not just from how devastatingly attractive he looks, but from the frustration in his eyes when he’s mad. You can practically feel your arousal gushing out of you, and you press your thighs together for a moment of friction.

“I told you to wait until after, didn’t I?” he presses, tone low and warning. “There are a lot of people watching me, I don’t think you realize how closely they notice things.”

“And yet, they didn’t see anything,” you counter, tilting your head with a teasing arch of your brows, voice dripping with mock innocence. “What are you all worked up for?”

He doesn’t say anything, just shuts his eyes and turns his head, a low exhale escaping through his nose, chest rising and falling as he seeks composure.

Your lips hover near his ear, breath warm and ragged as you whisper, “What’re you gonna do, Jungkook? Did you end the stream for nothing?”

He turns back to you, gaze silently shifting down your body instead of talking back, before snapping back to your eyes. It flickers lower, to your lips.

Without warning, he crashes into you, mouth claiming yours in a kiss that’s everything but gentle — lips attacking yours with animalistic force. He growls low in his throat, the vibration rumbling against your mouth as his tongue thrusts past your teeth.

He shifts, climbing onto the bed. He gets on top of you in one fluid motion, body pinning yours to the mattress, hips settling between your thighs. You can feel his stiff cock press right up against your core, the hard length grinding against the soaked lace of your thong.

Jungkook pulls back from your mouth with a wet smack, lips glistening with mixed salivas, eyes dark and low as he looks toward the nightstand drawer beside your bed. He yanks it open with a rough tug, rummaging inside for a second before pulling out your pink vibrator.

“How did you…” you start, voice cracking, trailing off into nothing as embarrassment consumes you.

“Think I can’t hear this shit?” he rasps, that signature smirk curling at his lips. “Always thought about what you look like when you use it. Can I see?”

You nod slowly, almost in a daze, teeth sinking deep into your bottom lip. Jungkook hooks a finger into the thin string of your thong, brushing the sensitive skin of your hips as he drags the lace down inch by inch. The fabric peels away, clinging to your wet folds before he tugs it free, leaving it dangling halfway down one leg.

He settles lower as he stares down at your pussy, lips parted in hunger. Slick coats your lips, dripping out of your entrance. A low groan rumbles from his chest, and he brings a hand down, palm pushing your thigh wider before he dips a finger between your folds.

“Missed you,” he mutters quietly, the words not aimed at you but at your pussy, like he’s greeting an old lover.

So fucking stupid. But it sends a fresh gush of arousal flooding out of you anyway, your walls clenching around nothing, aching to be filled.

Jungkook’s thumb flicks the power button on the base of the pink vibrator, and an insistent buzz vibrates through his palm. The sound fills the room, mixing with your ragged breaths as he lowers the toy, pressing it directly against your clit. A sharp moan spills from your lips at the contact, your body arching off the bed as the buzzing pulses straight into your core, sending sparks of pleasure to your cunt.

His gaze snaps up from where he’s focused, locking onto your face — your mouth parted open in a silent gasp turning vocal, brows furrowed and eyes shut in ecstasy. Jungkook drinks in your expression, cock twitching in his pants, and a whine slips from his throat.

He leans in without a word, capturing your lips in a deep, hungry kiss. His free hand slides up your neck, fingers curling around your throat — not squeezing, just holding you there, feeling your pulse against his palm. All the while, he angles the vibrator firmer against your clit, pushing the buzzing head into you, increasing your pleasure as the vibrations drill deeper.

He breaks the kiss just enough for his breath to fan against your lips. “Knew you were desperate for something,” his mouth trails lower, lips brushing lightly over your jawline, nipping at the sensitive spot below your ear. “Was waiting for you to do something bold.”

Turns out, Jungkook wasn’t as oblivious as you thought.

He just loved tormenting you.

He noticed the shift in your demeanor after that night — of course he did. The way you couldn’t maintain eye contact the next day, the way you kept conversation short, how you went stiff and tense whenever he entered the same room as you. You got all weird again, just like you did after the shower.

And if he hadn’t known any better like last time, he probably would’ve asked you what was wrong. But he didn’t. Because now, he did know.

This time, he wanted to see how long it took before you broke, before you finally begged him to fuck you the way you wanted. The way he wanted.

What he didn’t know was that you knew how to play this game better (Jennie, technically — but he didn’t need to know that).

You meet his eyes with a smug, lazy smile spreading across your swollen lips. “Got what you wanted?” you ask, tone laced with challenge, your hand reaching up to thread fingers through his messy hair, tugging lightly.

“Maybe,” he admits, a low chuckle slipping from his lips. His hand trails down from your throat, fingers skimming over the black lace before dipping into the cup of your bra. He squeezes your breast fully, palm engulfing the soft, heavy flush. “Didn’t know you could be such a brat when you want something, though.”

You’re embarrassingly close, the tight knot in your lower belly twisting, ready to snap and flood your body with release. If he wasn’t laying between your thighs, his strong hold prying your legs wide open to expose your dripping cunt, you’d be closing them in on the toy.

“Feel good?” he rasps, dark eyes consuming your pleasure. “I know it does. You love this thing, don’t you? Can hear you use it every fucking night.”

“Kook, I’m- g- gonna…” you moan out, the words fracturing into a whimper as the pressure builds. Your fingers dig into the fabric of his sweater, clutching a fistful over his broad shoulder.

Big mistake.

Because just then, Jungkook yanks the toy away from your clit, the sudden absence ripping the vibrations from your cunt. He flicks the switch off with his thumb, the loud buzzing dying to silence, broken only by your ragged pants.

You look up at him, completely puzzled. “You cannot be serious…” you breathe, voice hoarse with disbelief.

“Mmm,” he muses. “Why should I let you cum?”

“I can’t fucking stand you,” you scoff, the words laced with amusement even as frustration bubbles up in your chest.

“Yeah, I don’t really like brats either,” he shoots back, lips curling into a smirk. He pushes up onto his knees between your legs, spreading his own, the muscles in his quads flexing against his sweatpants. Gripping the undersides of your thighs, he yanks you forward, draping them over his lap. The shift hoists your hips off the bed, leaving your pussy bared beneath him, folds slick and swollen. “Maybe I shouldn’t give you what you want at all, hm? Leave you here to fend for yourself?”

“Careful,” you still tease, pissing him off further, fully aware he could drag out the edging all over again. “You almost sound like your ego’s bruised.”

“Keep talking like that, and you’ll get nothing,” he threatens, though he’s not intimidating at all. Deep down, you’re positive he wasn’t leaving this room until his cock gets some attention. Not this time.

He flicks the switch on again, the low buzz of the vibrator filling the room with that familiar, torturous hum. Slowly, teasingly, he drags the toy between your legs, the vibrating tip ghosting over your inner thigh first. Then, with the barest pressure, he presses it against your clit for a split second before he yanks it away again. A desperate whimper escapes your lips, hips bucking instinctively, as if that’ll help.

“Beg,” he demands, voice rough and commanding, repeating the torment. Another light tap against your clit before it’s gone again.

“Jungkook,” you pant, shutting your eyes as your face starts to burn, a mix of anger and desperation surging through you. You have half a mind to bring your foot up and shove him off the bed.

“Jungkook,” he mocks dramatically, chuckling as he holds the toy behind his back, teasing you as if your cunt wasn’t brutally throbbing right now. “That’s not begging, baby.”

He brings the toy down again for just a millisecond. And finally, a deep groan tears from your chest, raw and desperate. “Okay! Please! Please just… just touch me, I can’t…”

Satisfied, a smirk tugs at the corners of his mouth as he finally presses the toy firmly against your pussy. The vibrations pulse straight into your core, intense and relieving, buzzing against the swollen bud that’s been throbbing for his attention. You throw your head back against the pillow, an almost pornographic moan ripping from your throat.

“Take your top off,” he murmurs, face flushed and mouth gaped open. He grips the vibrator steady, circling it slowly now.

You waste no time, fumbling with shaky hands to reach behind your back. Your fingers pinch the hooks of the bra, unhooking it with a snap, the lacy fabric loosening instantly. You peel the straps down your arms before flinging it across the room.

Now you’re completely naked, skin prickling in the cool air while he remains fully clothed.

His eyes roam you like you’re a masterpiece. From your swollen lips to your collarbones, lingering on the swell of your tits, then lower to where the toy assaults your cunt. His brows knit together, a pained grimace twisting his features as his cock strains painfully against the confines of his pants. He shifts uncomfortably, biting his lower lip, but he focuses on you.

Emboldened by the way his gaze drinks in your nudity, you snatch his free hand from your thigh — the one with intricate tattoos that you’ve been dying to be touched with. You bring it up to your lips, entering his middle and ring fingers into your mouth, skin warm and soft against your tongue. It’s filthy and tempting, an example of what your mouth could do to his cock if he’d just let you.

He watches, mesmerized, jaw slacked like a fucking idiot. You pull them out, slick and shiny, guiding his hand downward without breaking eye contact, trailing it between your breasts, across your stomach until they hover at your entrance.

Begging paid off with Jungkook — you feel it when he doesn’t hesitate, thrusting those two fingers deep into your sopping cunt in one smooth motion. Your pussy swallows them effortlessly, so wet and ready that they slide in all the way to his knuckles.

“Fuck,” Jungkook groans in Korean, the word dragging out in a deep, throaty moan.

You gasp sharply at the sweet stretch of his fingers filling your pussy after torturous teasing, back arching as you clutch the cool metal of his necklace, yanking him down hard against you. He collides with your body, mouths fusing in a frantic kiss. His fingers remain plunging deep inside your slick pussy, curling with every stroke.

“Faster,” you whisper against his swollen lips.

He complies instantly, his fingers slamming in and out of your dripping cunt at a brutal pace, your arousal coating his hand and trickling down his wrist.

“Y- yes, oh my god,” you cry out, hoarse voice cracking. “Just like that. Feels so fucking good.”

“Yeah?” he asks breathily, tongue licking that sensitive spot just underneath your ear, then he bites down lightly on your earlobe, tugging it between his teeth.

You whimper in response, a needy moan escaping as you bite your lower lip.

His mouth moves lower, tongue tracing wet paths along your neck, sucking marks into your collarbone, then lapping at the swell of your breasts. He reaches your tit, tongue swirling around your hardened nipple before he latches on, sucking hard and pulling it deep into his warm mouth.

Your fingers thread into his thick, black hair, gripping the soft strands tightly as waves of pleasure ripple through you.

“Do you think you finally deserve to cum?” Jungkook murmurs, eyes looking up at you. He leans in, pressing a trail of wet kisses along your ribs.

“Yes!” you cry out, your voice a high, breathless whine laced with desperation. “I do! Please, let me cum.”

“Yeah? You want it that bad?” he taunts, stupid smirk plastered on his face.

“So bad,” the words spilled out in a broken gasp. Your hips snap upward on instinct, pussy clamping down hard around his plunging fingers.

But he’s just as stubborn as you are, refusing to fully give you what you want. He slides his wet fingers out of you, turns the vibrator off once again, and throws it beside you carelessly.

“I’m going to fucking kill you-” you snap, sitting upright in a surge of frustration.

Jungkook shoves you onto your back by your shoulders. He picks a knee up, straddling your hips, locking you tight on either side of your waist to cage you in place.

“I don’t think you deserve it just yet,” he says, voice low and gravelly. His fingers pinch the zipper of his sweater, dragging it down slowly. The fabric splits apart, exposing his bare chest — skin flushed, chest heaving up and down.

Your gaze lowers, catching the elastic band of his Calvin’s peeking above the waistband of his gray sweats. Beneath the thin fabric, his stiff cock strains upward, creating a massive, throbbing bulge.

“Will you finally let me touch you?” you murmur, voice laced with desperate hope, your fingers twitching at your sides, aching to wrap around his cock.

“Nah,” Jungkook denies with a slow shake of his head. “You’re gonna lay there and watch me.”

His fingers hook into the waistbands of both his boxers and sweats, yanking them down in one rough motion until they bunch around his muscular thighs. His cock bounces free, big and heavy. A low, needy whine escapes his lips at the sudden release from its confinement.

Without hesitation, he grips his length with his right hand, still slick from your dripping arousal as he smears it all over his shaft in a firm, twisting pump. His fist moves up and down slowly, squeezing the base before sliding to the head, thumb rubbing the sensitive slit to coax out more pre-cum he uses as lube. His eyes squeeze shut for a moment, head tipping back as the relief and pleasure consumes him.

Yet his eyes snap open again, like he can’t risk missing even a second of you underneath him like this. His gaze drifts down your body — your breasts rising and falling, palms resting on his thighs, eyes glued to his body — as his fist slides along his cock, the wet sounds filling the room with his rough, panting breaths.

Saliva pools in your mouth, and you swallow hard as your pussy clenches at the sight above you. Memories of his body in the shower — cock dangling heavily between his thighs, already impressive in its soft state. But with it right in front of you like this, fully erect, it’s an entirely new level.

“Kook…” His name falls from your lips in a breathless awe as you stare, absolutely gagged by the monster he’s been hiding in his pants this whole time.

He moans low and guttural in response, eyes locked onto yours as his tattooed hand pumps his thick cock faster in rapid, relentless strokes that make his biceps flex and bulge. A sheen of sweat begins to form on his toned chest and stomach, making his skin glisten. The silver cross pendant on his chain bounces with every brutal twist of his wrist, while his messy, damp hair shakes with the force of his movements, strands sticking to his forehead.

Underneath him, you squeeze your thighs together tightly, creating pressure to ease the throbbing ache.

“You’re so fucking difficult to live with,” he admits through gritted teeth, voice breathy and strained. “Every day you make it hard.”

“Yeah? Why is that?” you counter, tone sultry and teasing as your gaze devours every inch of him.

“Have to fight… ngh- t- the urge to not fuck you,” he moans out, the confession ripping from him, hips beginning to buck into his hand.

Suddenly, the guilt over your obsessive fantasies washes away, and you don’t feel entirely bad anymore — not when it’s clear he’s been living with the same desperate hunger.

“Then fuck me,” you gasp out, desperation hungrily laced in your tone as you arch your hips toward him, granting him permission — though he hardly needs it at this point.

“No,” he chuckles, shaking his head. “Not today.”

“Why not?” you challenge, a slight pout forming at your lips.

“‘Cause you’ve been fucking with me all week,” he pants, arm jerking with every stroke. “Think I haven’t n- noticed the shorts you’ve been wearing? Showering even longer than you already do? And then you mess with me while I’m streaming?”

“Was trying to get your attention,” you reason, face getting warm as another wave of arousal gushes out of you. “Got it now, haven’t I?”

“Brat,” he scoffs, shaking his head. Though a smirk pulls at his lips, dimple peeking through his cheek.

You bite your lip, eyes locked on his cock. The muscles in his forearm flex as he works himself closer to the edge, his breath coming out raggedly. He leans forward suddenly, his free arm shooting out to steady himself onto the headboard above you.

“Gonna let me cum on you? Huh?” he pants, voice strained with the building pressure.

You nod frantically, lost in a haze of your own denied arousal, pussy still throbbing from his earlier torment.

“Where do you want me, baby?” he moans, slowing his strokes just enough to hold it out a second longer.

Your hands move on instinct as you grab fistfuls of your hair and sweep it all to one side, baring the full swell of your breasts. You push the soft mounds together with your arms, jutting your chest toward him slightly like an offering, the movement making your tits jiggle enticingly, begging for his release to paint you.

The sight undoes him. His arm falters for a second before a deep groan rumbles from his chest as the first hot rope of cum erupts from his cock, splattering across the tops of your breasts. He keeps pumping, fist squeezing tighter at the base to milk out every last bit. The rest paints your skin from collarbone to nipple, warm and sticky. His abs clench sharply with each release, body shuddering and breath hitching into whiny grunts.

“Fuck,” he whispers, voice hoarse, eyes fluttering shut as a wave of dizziness crashes over him from the intensity. He pushes himself off the bed, legs unsteady as he stands and kicks his pants the rest of the way down his thighs, letting them pool on the floor. “Hold on.”

You watch him walk out of the room, completely bare in your presence. The sight makes your thighs clench involuntarily for what feels like the millionth time tonight, arousal flooding from your aching pussy, wet and slimy as it coats the insides of your thighs.

You remain sprawled on the bed, sighing deeply in contentment. Your clit throbs with neglected need, but the satisfaction of finally getting him to break is greater. After days of agonizing casualness with Jungkook — brushing past each other in the kitchen like nothing had happened, fueling your frustration — here you were, naked beneath him just moments ago and his warm jizz sticking across your skin.

The door creaks open again, and he saunters back in with a damp washcloth in one hand.

“You nut in my hair,” you whine as you touch the sticky strands clinging to your skin.

“Lucky you,” he teases, chuckling as he kneels beside you on the bed. He brings the warm rag to your chest, gently wiping away the fluid. The cloth glides over your breasts, catching every drop.

“No,” you pout, lips puffing out as you tilt your head to inspect the mess in your hair, fingers combing through. “It wasn’t even hair wash day today.”

“Oh, stop it,” he whines, amusement lacing his husky tone as he tosses the rag aside. “C’mere, I’ll make it up to you.”

He climbs back onto the bed, strong hands gripping your knees and forcing them wide apart as he settles between your thighs.

“Fucking hell,” he breathes out, gaze locked on the mess between your legs. “So fucking wet.”

“It’s your fault,” you shoot back, a lingering grudge laced in your tone.

“Really? After that shit you pulled earlier?” he counters, a smirk tugging at his lips as his fingers slide up your inner thigh. Without warning, he pushes two of them straight into your sopping entrance as he curls them just right, brushing that sensitive spot inside of you.

You hum low in your throat, the sound turning into a needy whine. “You weren’t paying attention to me,” you still complain, even as you chase the friction of his fingers.

“Sorry, baby,” he murmurs, fingers thrusting in and out with a gentle rhythm. The wet sounds of your pussy taking him fill the room, obscene and intoxicating. “Didn’t wanna coddle you. Just wanna give you your space.”

“It’s okay,” you moan, words dissolving into a whisper as you reach down, fingers tangling in his hair, tugging him closer to your heat. “Just make me cum, I deserve it.”

“Yeah, you do,” he agrees, no hesitation in his tone.

His lips latch onto your clit with a firm suck, tongue flicking out to circle the sensitive nub. It pulls a sharp cry from your lips, thighs trembling against his hands as he holds you open, devouring you like he’s starved. His fingers continue working inside you, scissoring and stretching your walls while his mouth alternates between sucking hard and lapping his tongue over your folds.

Your back begins to arch off the mattress, every muscle in your core clenching as that neglected orgasm quickly surges back up after the endless edging he’s put you through.

Then he nudges the tip of his round nose right against your clit, the firm press combined with the low vibrations of his own moaning sending you over the edge. You release with a choked cry, soaking his fingers and dripping down his chin. Waves of pleasure rip through you, grinding your wet folds against his face to chase every last spark. He doesn’t pull away — instead, he laps at you greedily, fingers replaced with his tongue as he drinks down every last bit of your arousal, and his nose still rubs up and down over your throbbing clit until you’re trembling.

When he finally pulls back, his lips glossy with your juices, cheeks bloomed pink — it’s like deja vu from last time. He rises slowly, hovering over you again, caging you in with his broad frame. But this time, there’s no teasing. He just leans in, capturing your mouth in a gentle kiss, tongue sliding past your lips to feed you the taste of your own essence. You moan into his mouth, sucking on his tongue as your hands roam up his back.

He breaks the kiss with a gasp, then drops his head onto your chest. A tired moan rumbles from his chest, vibrating against your skin as he goes limp. “Didn’t even fuck you and I’m exhausted.”

You laugh breathlessly, the sound light despite the ache in your own limbs, tips of your nails massaging his scalp. “Still gotta shower.”

“Too tired to stand up,” he says quietly.

“We can take a bath,” you suggest softly. “I’ll wash you up.”

“Sounds nice,” he agrees, lifting his head just enough to press a lazy kiss to your collarbone, lips lingering like he doesn’t want to move.

“Yeah,” you murmur, smiling as you tilt his chin up for one more quick peck. “You’re washing my sheets tomorrow, though.”

He only groans in response before pushing himself up off you. There’s no warning when his hands find you again — firm, restrained — as he lifts you clean off the bed and throws you over his shoulder. You let out a startled squeal, instinctively grabbing onto him as he walks out of your room toward the bathroom.

At some point, your phone buzzes faintly from where it’s been abandoned.

It’s from Jennie — asking if everything went as planned. You don’t see it.

Because by the time you’re done washing up, Jungkook doesn’t bother getting dressed. Just dries off and pulls you into his bed with him, so casually — like it’s the most natural thing in the world — his arm settling around you, keeping you close.

And you let him.

You fell asleep there, in his space, in his arms — bare and vulnerable.

Things definitely weren’t going back to casual after this.

Trending Blogs

Recently Viewed Blogs