Jeon Jungkook is the world’s cheesiest fuckboy, and somehow he ends up tangled in your sheets. You, a quiet straight-A student who has always been too good, but everyone knows that's not entirely the case. You told him from the start you don’t do commitment. He swore he felt the same. That is…until he started falling for you.
hashtag - rewritten
Pairing: fuckboy!Jungkook x (fem) reader, fwb
Genre: fwb au, uni au, idiots to lovers, fluff, angst, slow burn (kind of).
Topics: jealousy, JELLY JK, rebound hookup😒, situationship dramaaaa, Jackson Wang Party (not mentioned but relevant), confrontation/fight (jk gets punched in the face), arguing.
LMK if i missed anything!! ^
w/c: 4.7k
a/n: This part is a little fast-paced for added context, but gosh, I love me some jelly jk 😋 I just want to say they're both so aggravating to me, I swear I was getting heated while writing at some point haha Jk is a total guy in this part too like don't pmo! He kept his jelly feelings bottled up but couldn't keep up with the nonchalance. I CHANGED THE CHARACTER SINCE NO ONE CARED FOR MY OTHER (FICTIONAL) MAN [REDACTED] FOR CHOI SAN MI PAPI CHULOOOOO!! Ngh~ he will probably be a recurring character. I'm not too sure just yet... LMK if you would like to see him again, remember this part is mainly in Jungkook's perspective and my guy hates his guts! He already disliked him before he knew he was hanging around miss [YN] so you get the feel heheh. Also, let's not talk about the characters ages in this Jihyo is a year younger than Jihoon (from treasure). I don't have anything else to say I hope you enjoy this part LOL sorry for taking soon long idk what happened 😧 AND sorry in advance for any grammatical errors!🙏🏼
TY for being a part of the taglist btw 🩷
⭐️ cwy masterlist
˚˖𓍢ִ໋❀pls like, comment & reblog˚˖𓍢ִ໋❀
Jungkook strolled through the quiet library courtyard, with a plastic bag hanging from his fingers and a black cap over his disheveled hair.
He had stopped by the convenience store and bought a few things he thought you might appreciate on a study night: an energy drink, the sandwich you liked to get when you needed a quick bite, a bag of chips and some candy.
After cleaning up in the locker room, he went straight to Jimin's apartment to kill some time. Before leaving, Jimin asked him if he wanted to go to a club downtown with some friends tonight for drinks, but Jungkook said no. He intended to stop by the library after you had left the field earlier, he just wanted to check in on you and maybe even walk you home.
It was 9:47 PM, and the library closed at 10. He picked up his pace to catch you before you left. The doors came into view, but before he could get to them, they swung open, and Jungkook stopped in his tracks.
There you were, laughing softly with Choi San—the captain of the volleyball team, a good-looking, confident son of a bitch.
Jungkook watched as San held the door open for you and as you walked down the library steps side by side. You both laughed at something he said, and the two of you moved with familiarity. San tilted his head as he spoke, grinning, and having a casual conversation with you.
The realization hit him like a fastball to the chest. That’s why you looked so pretty today; the skirt, the cardigan, and the way you styled your hair. It was too nice to stay in the library all night, you probably dressed like that to go out with San.
The plastic bag that hung from his fingers made him feel pathetic.
His jaw clenched. Did you lie to him or did not think of San as someone he might know? You said you weren’t working on this project with someone he knew. He couldn’t even be mad though, you didn’t have to explain yourself to him.
As he watched you walk away, his shoulders sagged. He stuffed the plastic bag into his duffle bag and quickly turned around, taking out his phone and messaging Jimin to check if his invitation to the club was still open because tonight wasn’t going as planned.
Jungkook
Is it too late to change my mind about drinks tonight? ☹️
Jimin’s reply came fast, typical of him. He was always up for something.
Jimin
Lol? Dude you were just here 30 mins ago saying u weren’t in the mood. What changed??
He didn’t know about what happened at the library yet of course… but he knew Jimin could sense drama like a bloodhound.
Jungkook stared at the text, thumb hovering over the screen. He didn’t want to talk about it, if he mentioned you, Jimin would ask questions. Then he’d have to explain what happened and how stupidly jealous everything made him feel for no reason.
Jungkook
nothin
just realized I could use a drink
The alarm goes off at 8 AM the next morning. Jungkook blinks awake, his tattooed arm reaches from under the duvet to shut it off. His low groan can be heard throughout the apartment, he pushes the duvet from above his head, the light peaking through the curtains directly onto his face.
He hears a soft sigh next to him and turns over to see the girl from last night.
After a few drinks at the club and one sloppy makeout with the girl who talked his ear off at the bar, he stopped thinking about you, San, and what you might be doing alone with him and brought back the chick who was sleeping soundly in his bed this morning.
Although he enjoyed his glory days ever since he met you and finally got to have you, he would rather wake up next to you in his bed, hold you close, and smell the perfume you always wore when you came over, he loves how it stays on his sheets for days.
This girl was pretty, like most of the girls he's slept with, but something was off. He wasn't enjoying it as much as he used to; there wasn't a connection like there was with you. She was nice, from what he remembers... but he can't remember her name...
Rachel...? Jia...? uhhh... he would have to ask her before she leaves.
Jungkook quietly got out of bed. He wasn’t the type to kick girls out as soon as he could, he might as well get some coffee going for when she wakes up.
Stumbling into the kitchen, he turns on his coffee maker, taking a look at his notification, he squints slightly when he sees you notification from last night.
You
You up? 12:58 AM
Want to go get ramen and then go back to your place? 🥹 1:03 AM
Jungkook stares at your messages. He didn’t even check his phone last night, got straight to business and crashed right after.
Jungkook
Crashed early last night. Didn’t see this
Just as he was about to put his phone down, you replied
You
I bet that’s why you’re up so early
Jungkook
Morning sweets
Why are you up so early? Didn’t you have a late study night??
You
Yes. Got very little sleep🥲
I have a shift at the café this morning
Omw to said shift
Jungkook
so that’s why u got back to me quick u usually take at least 5 business days to respond 😒
You
Maybe or maybe I was just happy to hear from you
You’re not mad are you? </3
He stares at your text. Mad? Why would he be mad? He couldn’t be mad at you for being busy or hanging out with other guys, even if he doesn’t like it. You two weren’t exclusive, and he just proved that by having another girl in his bed right now.
Jungkook
Why would I be mad?
You
bc I didn’t text you like at all
and ik you wanted to hang out but I was busy ;c
Jungkook
water under the bridge, sweets
I get that you’re busy dw
You
Good to know 🫶
I just got to work ttyl💖
Because of how things went, Jungkook didn't get a chance to ask you yesterday. Tonight, one of his buddies is throwing a party at their place, and he knew you don't usually go to parties like that, but he thought you might want to go with him for a while and then come back to his place and watch movies or do whatever you wanted to do.
He shoots his shot—again.
Jungkook
b4 you go are you free tonight??
He stares down at the three little bubbles popping up and disappearing for a couple of minutes.
You
I kinda have plans tonight ☹️
Jungkook
When are you free? 🥲
I really want to spend some time with you
You
I’ll let you know later k? 😭
Jungkook doesn’t pry, he can’t hide his disappointment with the frown forming on his face, he just doesn’t want to seem needy or clingy, and he also doesn’t want to push you away by being around so much.
He places his phone down and is startled by a voice that says “Morning.” The girl from last night stands by the doorframe in the same dress she wore last night and carrying her things as if she was about to leave.
“Morning,” he clears his throat. “Coffee?” He offers. An empty mug in hand.
He never rushed to get girls to leave his apartment. If they stayed the night, he would let them take a shower, and if he was making breakfast, he might offer them a plate or even a ride home.
“Yes, please.” She slid onto one of the stools at the island and gave him a small smile.
He pours her a cup and sets it in front of her, next to a sugar bowl and a bottle of Mocha creamer. The same one you told him he just had to buy it because it was so good, and he was missing out.
Jungkook stared at her for a second too long—his own coffee in hand, his mind scrambling.
What was her name? Had she told him last night? Probably. But the club was loud, he had a couple of drink and he hadn’t been really paying attention.
“You know… I can remember a pretty face, but I’m not great with names.” He pauses to take a sip of coffee and asks, “Remind me, what’s your name again?”
She didn’t seem offended at all. If anything, she looked amused, like she’d been this exact situation before. “Jihyo,” she said simply, voice smooth and teasing as she took another sip of coffee. "We didn’t talk much last night but I did tell you that when we danced."
Jungkook scratched the back of his neck, avoiding eye contact embarrassed he couldn’t even remember a simple name but Jihyo shifted the topic effortlessly, swirling her coffee before speaking.
“So…you play baseball?” she asked
“Yeah, I got practice this morning.”
Jihyo rested her chin on her palm as she studied him. “Forrr the big game next weekend?” she said, dragging out her words “Do you think you’ll win?”
"Hope so," he said simply, voice low, “We’re good… but Riverside’s solid too.” Jungkook crossed his arms over his chest, feeling confident.
“Ohhh,” she drawled, leaning in slightly, “But you guys still lost to Yonsei last weekend though.” Her tone was teasing, it was just a playful jab to rile him up a little.
She was at that game and she can remember how upset the team was about their loss.
He laughed at her comment, they weren’t that bad, but she did get him. The Yonsei loss stung, but it’s not like they’ve been in their element these past few months.
"Yonsei’s great right now," he admitted easily, "but we weren’t at our best that day." He tilted his head slightly and shot back "Do you even know anyone on the team?"
"Jihoon. He’s my older brother." Jihyo said it so casually, completely unfazed.
Jungkook froze, coffee halfway to his lips, eyes wide. Park Jihoon? The toughest and most angry player on the team? The one who argued with the umpires almost every game and benched anyone slacking during practice? That Jihoon? And this sweet girl… was his sister?
"Wait," he blurted out, voice slightly higher than intended, "you didn’t tell me you were related to him." Jungkook would be dead if anyone on the team found out, they probably all knew already, not like he was trying to be discreet last night.
He runs a hand through his hair, it’s his fault he can’t even keep it in his pants for one night. Jihoon was going to kill him!
Jihyo took the last sip of her coffee, set the mug down with a soft clink, and shrugged completely unbothered. “What he doesn’t know won’t kill him," she said simply, like it wasn’t obvious but–
“You don’t get it—”
She stood up then, stretching slightly and interrupted him, “Look, I should go, I don’t want to make you late.”
Jihyo grabbed her phone off the counter. “Good luck and thanks for this.” The door closed softly behind her.
The party was bumping like usual, music hummed throughout the entire house. He wasn’t surprised by the number of people here on a Saturday night. Jungkook walks through the crowded hallways in search of his friends, he bumps into a couple of familiar faces until he spots his crew in one of the corners.
At practice, Jihoon had been his usual self, focused on drills, yelling at guys for sloppy form. If anyone knew he’d slept with Jihyo last night… they weren’t saying anything. Not a whisper in the locker room even though Mingyu teased him about 'looking tired' this morning, it was the normal teasing from teammates who thought he was with you last night.
“Yo! JK made it,” Hosoek shouts over the music as soon as he spots him.
Everyone greets Jungkook and hands him a drink. “How’s it going so far?” he asks, falling onto the couch with a sigh.
“Taehyung is already in a room upstairs with some chick,” Namjoon fills him in on what he'd missed out on for the past hour.
Jungkook sank down on the couch, fingers tapping against his knees, just watching the crowd while his friends chatted over things he didn’t really care about. He was barely paying attention, his mind elsewhere thinking about how different tonight would be if you had been able to tag along with him.
"Are you alright, man?" Hoseok asked, noticing that he was clearly not paying attention.
“I’m fine, just...thinking.”
"I hope it's about game and how to be better at baseball," Mingyu added. They didn't always get along but Jungkook knew it was best to be on good terms.
He wasn't even thinking about the game; he was even a little absent-minded at practice. The coach was positive they would win, but Jungkook wasn't so sure because of how practice was going and all.
His voice trails off as he pulls out his phone and texts you, "right, the game.”
Jungkook
Whatchu up to?
Hoseok gives him a pat on the shoulder and says, "Just don't get hammered, alright?" His eyes wander to someone else, “Is that [YN]?”
Jungkook's attention is immediately pulled away from his phone, his eyes flickering up to where Hoseok was looking, his gaze quickly finding you across the room next to San—again.
There you were, looking as gorgeous as ever. From afar, Jungkook couldn't help but just admire you and notice how nice the dress looked on you, how it hugged your body and showed just the right amount of skin.
You didn't usually dress like that, though. Did you dress like that for San?
But the fact that you didn’t tell him you were coming to this party tonight made him think even more.
He pushed aside his feelings and his racing heart, you told him had plans tonight but didn’t say with who… Jungkook should have known. For some reason he felt betrayed; maybe this was his karma for sleeping with Jihyo last night.
From his seat, Jungkook watched as San led you through the party. He saw how his hand stayed on your waist, keeping you close. San kept you around like an accessory because you made him look good, and he knew it.
But Jungkook saw you. He saw how shy you were and how your gaze stayed on the floor when San's friends got a little too rowdy.
Choi San was a cocky jerk who didn't deserve your time of day.
Jungkook's grip tightened around his drink.
―⋆★⋆―
At one point he got up from his seat and kept a short distance from the two of you. He couldn’t take his eyes off you and a hot coil of jealousy burned in his chest.
The more Jungkook watched the more obvious it was that you liked San. You leaned in close to him when someone came up to you, laughed at his stupid jokes, a smile plastered across your face just like last night.
It was bad enough that you were sitting there, letting him charm you. You also didn’t seem to notice Jungkook was here too, you hadn’t even looked around at all, your attention was on San the whole time.
Suddenly, the sound of his name being shouted across the room cuts through the music. He knew that voice, it was Park Jihoon.
“JEON JUNGKOOK!”
Jungkook spun around just in time to see Jihoon’s fists clenched, storming toward him. Everyone’s head turned to watch as the scene unfolded, Jungkook barely had time to register it before Jihoon shoves him hard in the chest.
"You slept with my sister?" he growled
Jungkook doesn’t flinch, he clears his throat and straightens his jacket as he looks at Jihoon.
“I didn’t know she was your sister,” he says, his voice shaking as he tries to stay calm “And I wouldn’t have touched her if I did.”
Was that a lie? Maybe.
Jihoon’s eyes narrowed, he didn’t buy Jungkook’s lie for a second.
The baseball team knew Jihoon personally—everyone respected him, feared him even. And yet Jungkook claimed he had no idea Jihyo was his sister?
A scoff escaped Jihoon, disbelieving. "Bullshit," he growled, "you’re lying to my face."
Even the music stopped as everyone gathered around them to watch. He could see you watching from across the room, your eyes wide fixed between him and Jihoon.
When you make eye contact something stupid and reckless sparks in him.
Instead of backing down, instead of apologizing or explaining further… he smirked.
Maybe to impress you, maybe to show he wasn’t weak. Either way he opened his big mouth "So what?" he shot back, chin lifting, "Your sister seemed to like it—"
As soon as he finished speaking, Jihoon swung his fist at Jungkook, hitting him square in the jaw. The force of the blow sent Jungkook stumbling back, crashing into a table behind him, cups and bottles flying as the crowd gasped.
Jungkook’s hand instinctively rises up to cup his jaw in pain, caught off guard by the sudden punch. Jihyo moved fast as soon as she heard the commotion. She darted between Jihoon and Jungkook, arms outstretched, shoving her brother hard in the chest to stop him from throwing another punch.
"Jihoon! Stop!" she shouted, loud enough to cut through the silence that had fallen over the party.
Jihoon didn’t back down. ”Stay out of this," he growled at her, taking another step toward Jungkook.
Jihyo grabbed Jihoon’s arm "Jihoon," she snapped, turning fully to face him. “You punch him? You’re getting suspended from the team. Coach Park won’t tolerate this.” She knew his weak spot, the baseball team needed him for playoffs. And Jihoon was smart enough to know violence here would cost everything.
A muscle twitched in his jaw but Jihyo was right. Getting into fights right now was stupid but he just wanted to protect his little sister from bastards like Jungkook.
Without another word, Jihoon turned and stormed out of the party, shoving past people on his way to the front door.
Jihyo bent down in front of Jungkook quickly. A guilty apologetic smile "Sorry about that," she said softly, then reached out a hand to help him up from where Jihoon had knocked him over.
Jungkook took Jihyo’s hand, letting her pull him up. His jaw ached from Jihoon’s punch but he didn't want to make a big deal out of it.
Instead, as soon as he was on his feet, he rubbed the back of his neck like nothing serious had just happened. "Guess I should’ve known you were trouble,” he teases even after getting decked by her overprotective brother.
Jihyo chuckled, her shoulders relaxing “Do you need ice?” she asked
Jungkook shook his head with a polite smile, waving it off. “Nah, I’m okay.”
She studied him for a second, then nodded "See you around," she said with a small wave before turning to leave him be.
The party gradually went back to normal, music blaring again, people laughing like nothing had happened, the fight with Jihoon was already fading into background gossip. Jungkook glanced around for you… but you were gone. San too, probably.
You two must’ve slipped out while everyone was distracted by the fight. A quiet sigh escaped him as he pushed through the crowd toward the sliding glass door leading to the back deck of the house.
The cold night air hit his face immediately, nice and peaceful compared to all that noise inside. He leaned on the railing, staring at nothing in particular, mind spinning with everything that just happened.
The glass door slid open with a soft whoosh, but Jungkook didn’t turn. His eyes stayed fixed on the dark backyard, the twinkling lights of the garden, distant crickets chirping in the quiet.
Behind him he heard cautious, approaching footsteps moving across the wooden deck, and then a gentle hand reached out and touched his arm.
Jungkook turned slowly, and there you were standing in front of him, the glow from the backyard lights making your eyes shine, that small awkward smile played on your lips when you didn’t know what to say.
Your eyes met and Jungkook’s breath hitched just a little.
You fumbled slightly with your words "I… um. Thought you could use this." You held out a small ziploc bag filled with ice, wrapped in a dish towel. You probably went to grab it from the kitchen after Jihoon punched him.
Jungkook stared at it a second then took it gently. The cold seeped through the plastic as he pressed it to his jaw “Thanks.” He hadn’t expected you to come check on him, let alone bring him ice.
You leaned against the railing beside him, mirroring his posture, close enough that their shoulders almost touched. The night air wrapped around you both as you turned your head slightly to look at him.
“What was that fight about?" You asked quietly, Jungkook wasn’t the type to get into fights, especially not with his teammates.
Jungkook hesitated, he didn’t want to lie to you. “I was with Jihyo last night. Jihoon's sister”
"So that's why you didn't answer my texts last night," you said, voice pointed like you had been waiting for a real explanation and finally got it.
"Guess you were busy." you added with sarcasm.
Jungkook scoffed, turning his head to look at you "Don’t be like that," he said, defensiveness in his voice. "You were with San all night too."
The accusation slipped out before he could stop it. He didn’t mean it harshly… but the jealousy simmered under the surface, seeing you with San had bothered Jungkook way more than he’d admit.
You blinked, surprised. “How would you even know that?" you shot back, defensive now, arms crossing over your chest in disbelief.
The air outside suddenly felt heavier, charged with something you couldn’t put your finger on. Was it jealousy? Was it competition or something else?
Jungkook rolled his eyes, exhaling sharply through his nose "I saw you leave the library with him last night," he admitted, jaw tightening. The ice bag crinkled in his grip as he shifted against the railing.
You shifted slightly "So? We were just working on the project," you said casually, looking away to stare at the garden lights again. "Why does it matter?” you add flatly it never mattered before so why does it all of a sudden matter now?
He bristled. Why did it matter? Because you said you would be working on a project with people he didn’t know, and now it turned out one of them was Choi San—a guy he didn’t like.
“Because you said you were working on a project with people I didn’t know," he shot back, voice low. "And then I see you with San?”
"I didn’t even know you knew San," you said, shrugging like it was obvious. "He plays volleyball. You play baseball. I didn’t think your circles overlapped." it was a logical point, but it also sounded dismissive like you hadn't considered Jungkook’s feelings at all.
Jungkook's voice turned colder, upset now. “Well, we do,” he snapped "and what? Did you have fun on your little late-night ‘date’ with him?" he said sarcastically
Your face scrunched in irritation, now you were annoyed too. ”I didn’t go on a date with him," You said firmly, voice rising slightly. "He just offered to walk me home. That was it."
Even though you liked San, you didn't like how Jungkook was twisting things. San had waited for you by the library entrance after the group meeting ended late, asked if you needed a ride since it was dark out and you agreed to let him walk you home because it wasn't safest to walk alone at night.
"And you just let him walk you?" he argues "You could’ve said no."
“So what? You fucked the first girl that came along because you were lonely” You don't even understand why you were getting mad. It's not like you guys were dating.
"Hypocrite."
You were tired of fighting and your voice dropped. It didn't matter who he was with last night; he wasn't your boyfriend. "I told you already, Jungkook," you said calmly, "I’ve been busy."
And it was true, assignments piled up every week, you worked part-time at the café downtown, your friend group had weekly dinners… and yeah, you hung out with other guys sometimes but you never lied to him about your busy schedule.
Jungkook exhaled, he rubbed his temple, the ice long forgotten in his hand. "…When did San ask you to come to this party with him?" he finally asked quietly
He just wanted some context, like how long has this been going on?
"After he dropped me off last night, he asked if I wanted to come with him," you said simply.
You hadn’t realized Jungkook would even care or that it’d turn into this argument hours later.
He nodded slowly, gaze drifting back to the dark backyard. Maybe he overreacted. “Have any fun?” he asks softly
You smile and nod "Yeah," you said softly, "I did. The party’s fun… I didn’t know any of his friends but they’re cool."
He didn’t say anything for a moment. The party’s muffled music drifted through the glass door behind them. Then, he reached out and took your hand—lacing their fingers together gently.
Jungkook swallowed hard. Now that the tension was gone… he actually looked at you properly for the first time since you came out here. The dress was different from what he usually saw you in, it was a little shorter and more revealing. He wasn’t used to seeing you dressed up like this and it caught him off guard in a good way.
He cleared his throat "You… uh," he started, stumbling slightly over the words, "you look really pretty." he said, voice lower than usual.
Your smile widened, Jungkook was usually confident, and right now he was being shy stuttering over a compliment. It was sweet.
You squeezed his hand enjoying seeing him flustered for once.
“Thanks, loser.”
"Wow," he said, shaking his head with a grin spreading across his face "Calling me a loser after I just complimented you?”
Jungkook’s smile faded slightly, letting go of your hand "…I’m sorry," he said quietly, "for being stupid.”
"It's okay," you said, shrugging slightly. "But we shouldn't argue like that. I'm not yours and you're not mine."
Even though it stung, it was the truth. They weren’t dating and they never put labels on things between them, it was just sexual.
"Yeah," he admitted softly, "you're right."
There's a silent moment between you two, and you don't look at each other, but outside, as the leaves rustle in the wind, you hadn’t realized how cold it had gotten until a sudden shiver ran through you, arms wrapping around yourself.
Jungkook noticed instantly, his eyes flicked to the goosebumps on your skin, and without a word he shrugged off his jacket and gently draped it over your shoulders.
“You’re going to catch a cold at this rate, you never carry a jacket with you,” he scolds with no real bite.
"I should go inside." you murmured, San was probably wondering where you went and it wouldn’t be nice to disappear without telling him.
“Yeah," he said with a small, soft smile, "have fun with your date," acknowledging San as your plus-one for the night without jealousy churning in his chest.
“I’ll text you.” You promised softly.
Jungkook stayed outside for another minute…watching through the glass as you disappeared into the crowd to find San.
The fact that you kept Jungkook’s jacket on, the jacket he wore all the time made him smile to himself. You could’ve taken it off and left it outside or handed it back to him before going in.
But you didn’t.
You walked straight into the party still wrapped in his jacket and Jungkook knew San would notice.
So sorry I haven't updated like at all...🦐 I was supposed to finish writing last weekend, but I ended up going to the beach with my friends >⩊<.ᐟ I haven't been to the beach in like 3 years! It was v fun and fresh 🦑 Nobody asked but here's a pic I took of the waves Lol
And now back to our regularly scheduled programming. I should post cwy pt2 this week 🐙
hey dear, are you a new writer? can you recommend me which fic of yours to read first.
Hey honey buns, I'm so new I've only just started posting my first fic this year (it's just in the middle of a rewrite). 🤗 It only has one part so far, check it out 💖
synopsis: When your boyfriend Soobin struggles to satisfy you in the bedroom, you both agree to see the city’s most sought-after sex therapist: Jeon Jungkook. Charming, confident, and dangerously skilled with his hands, Jungkook doesn’t just offer advice— he shows you exactly how it’s supposed to feel. What starts as clinical demonstrations quickly turns into something far more intense, with Soobin watching helplessly from the corner as Jungkook takes his time teaching your body pleasures your boyfriend never could.
warnings: smut mdni, masturbation, use of a vibrator, cuckholding, fingering, oral (f.rec.), unprotected sex, missionary, lotus, doggystyle, biting, ass eating (because @merakoo asked for it), ass slapping, hair pulling, rough sex, lots and lots of dirty talk, creampie, squirting, this is filthy as fuck, soobin x reader.
✶﹐word count: 10.5k
The room was quiet except for the slow, uneven sound of your breathing slowly returning to normal. You lay on your back beside Soobin, both of you staring up at the ceiling where the same faint crack in the paint had been mocking you for months now. The sheets beneath you felt sticky and warm, but the warmth wasn’t the satisfying kind that usually came after really good sex. It was just… fine. Everything lately had been fine. His hand had been gentle on your hips, his kisses soft against your neck, and when he finally came, he let out that familiar quiet groan before collapsing beside you. But you hadn’t. Not even close.
In the beginning of your relationship, the sex had been good enough to leave you content. It wasn’t mind-blowing or adventurous, but it was warm and loving and enough to make you curl into him afterward with a sleepy smile. Over the last couple of years though, things had slowly changed. The spark had dimmed into something mechanical, almost routine. You found yourself lying there more often than not, faking soft little moans so he wouldn’t feel bad, while the ache between your legs only grew more frustrated. Sometimes you wondered if he noticed how often you slipped away afterward. Tonight, you knew he did. You could feel it in the way his body had tensed just slightly when he pulled out, the unspoken awareness hanging heavy between you.
Soobin shifted beside you, the mattress dipping as he rolled over. His arm draped loosely across your waist for a moment before he leaned in and pressed a tender kiss to the top of your head, his lips lingering there like an apology he didn’t quite know how to voice. “Goodnight, baby,” he whispered, voice already thick and sleepy. You swallowed the lump in your throat and forced yourself to sound normal.
“Goodnight,” you replied softly, turning your head just enough to brush your nose against his shoulder.
You waited in the dark, listening carefully as his breathing gradually slowed and deepened. Minutes stretched out, each one feeling longer than the last. When you were finally sure he was fully asleep, you slipped out from under his arm with practiced care, trying not to disturb the mattress too much. The cool air of the room hit your bare legs as you stood, and you padded quietly to the bedside drawer. Your fingers closed around the smooth, familiar shape of your vibrator, the one you’d come to rely on more than you wanted to admit. The weight of it in your palm felt almost comforting now.
You tiptoed into the bathroom and closed the door behind you with a soft click, locking it out of habit even though Soobin was dead to the world. The small nightlight cast a gentle golden glow across the tiles as you leaned back against the sink counter. Heart still racing from the unresolved tension in your body, you hiked up the oversized t-shirt you’d thrown on and parted your thighs. The moment the buzzing toy pressed against your swollen, neglected clit, a shaky exhale escaped your lips. This was never fine. This was intense, almost desperate— the sharp pleasure you craved but could no longer get from the man sleeping in the next room.
Your free hand gripped the edge of the counter as you worked the vibrator in slow, teasing circles, then faster, chasing the release that had been denied to you earlier. Your mind wandered while your hips jerked against your hand, thoughts drifting dangerously toward the crumpled business card you’d tucked away in your purse weeks ago. Jeon Jungkook. Licensed Sex Therapist. Specialist in couples’ intimacy issues. You’d stared at that card so many times, equal parts ashamed and curious. The glowing reviews online had mentioned how thorough he was… how hands-on.
Your thighs trembled as the pressure finally built to its peak. You bit down hard on your lip to stay quiet, eyes squeezing shut while the orgasm crashed over you in strong, pulsing waves. For a few blissful seconds, everything else disappeared— the frustration, the guilt, the growing distance between you and Soobin. Only the sharp pleasure remained. But as the high faded and you caught your breath under the dim nightlight, the reality settled back in. This couldn’t keep going on like this. Something had to change.
The next day dawned gray and quiet, the kind of overcast morning that made the apartment feel smaller than it was. You woke up before Soobin, his arm still loosely draped over your waist from the night before. For a long moment you just lay there, staring at the faint crack in the ceiling that had become an unwilling witness to so many disappointing nights. Your body still carried the faint ache of unresolved need, even after last night’s secret session in the bathroom. The memory of the vibrator’s buzz and the sharp, guilty pleasure it brought made your thighs press together under the sheets.
All day the business card burned a hole in your pocket.
You went through the motions— making coffee, answering emails, attending meetings, but your mind kept circling back to it. Should I say something? What if he gets defensive? What if he thinks I’m unhappy with him as a person and not just… this? The card felt heavy, its edges sharp against your fingertips every time you brushed your hand over your pocket. At lunch you pulled it out in the bathroom stall just to stare at the elegant black text again: Jeon Jungkook, Licensed Sex Therapist. Specialist in Couples’ Intimacy & Desire. Your stomach twisted with nerves and something else, something hotter and more dangerous.
By the time evening came, the anxiety had twisted into a constant, low hum beneath your skin. You cooked dinner in silence while Soobin set the table, the two of you moving around each other with the familiar, gentle choreography of a couple who had been together for years. Pasta with creamy tomato sauce, garlic bread, a simple salad, comfort food on a night that felt anything but comfortable. The apartment smelled warm and safe, yet your heart wouldn’t stop racing.
Halfway through the meal, you couldn’t take it anymore.
Your fork paused above your half-eaten plate, twirling a strand of pasta that you no longer had any appetite for. Soobin was talking softly about his day, something about a deadline at work, but the words barely registered. Your fingers trembled as they slipped into your pocket and pulled out the slightly creased business card. Without a word, you slid it across the wooden table until it rested beside his glass of water.
Soobin’s voice trailed off. He looked down at the card, fork hovering in mid-air for a second before he slowly set it down. The quiet clink of metal against the plate sounded impossibly loud. You held your breath, chest tight, watching his face as he picked up the card with long, elegant fingers. His eyes scanned the text once, then again, more carefully. The silence stretched, thick and heavy, broken only by the distant hum of the refrigerator and the ticking of the clock on the wall.
You waited for confusion. For hurt. For anger, maybe. Instead, Soobin let out a long, slow sigh.
It wasn’t the frustrated kind you’d feared. It was… relief. Deep, exhausted relief. His shoulders sagged as he placed the card back on the table, turning it over once between his fingers before looking up at you. His eyes were soft, a little sad, but strangely calm.
“You’ve been thinking about this for a while, haven’t you?” he asked quietly.
You swallowed hard, nodding. Your voice came out smaller than you wanted. “Yes. I… I know things haven’t been great. Between us. In bed. I know you’ve felt it too.”
Soobin leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. He stared at the card for another long moment, then looked at you again— really looked at you. There was no defensiveness in his gaze, only a quiet acknowledgment that made your throat tighten.
“I have,” he admitted, voice low. “I’ve felt it for months. Every time I touch you and you don’t… every time you make those little sounds like you’re trying to spare my feelings.” He gave a small, self-deprecating smile that broke your heart a little. “I didn’t know how to bring it up. I didn’t want you to think I don’t want you anymore, because I do. So fucking much. I just… I don’t know how to fix it.”
The honesty in his words made your eyes sting. You reached across the table and took his hand, squeezing it gently. For the first time in a long time, it felt like you were really seeing each other again. “I don’t want to keep pretending everything’s fine when it’s not,” you whispered. “I think… maybe we need help. Real help. From someone who knows what they’re doing.”
Soobin glanced back down at Jungkook’s name on the card. His thumb brushed over the printed letters almost absentmindedly. After a long pause, he nodded. “Okay,” he said softly. “If you’re sure you want to do this… then I’m in. We’ll do it together.”
You let out a shaky breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding, a strange mix of nerves and excitement fluttering in your stomach. The decision was made. The appointment would be made.
The waiting room of Jeon Jungkook’s private practice was quieter than you expected. Soft ambient music played low in the background, something instrumental and soothing that did little to calm the rapid beating of your heart. You sat on a sleek gray couch beside Soobin, your hand resting loosely in his lap while his thumb brushed slow, absentminded circles over your knuckles. The air smelled faintly of sandalwood and clean linen. Floor-to-ceiling windows let in natural light, but the tension in your chest made everything feel slightly unreal.
You had been nervous all morning. The drive here had been mostly silent, both of you lost in your own thoughts, but now that you were actually here, sitting in this elegant, minimalist office, the nerves had twisted into something sharper. A low, thrilling hum of excitement sat right beneath the anxiety. Your thighs pressed together under your sundress as you replayed the glowing reviews in your head. Thorough. Transformative. Life-changing.
Ten minutes felt like an eternity.
Every time you heard footsteps in the hallway, your breath would catch, only for the sound to fade again. Soobin squeezed your hand gently, offering a small, reassuring smile, but you could see the same mixture of uncertainty and hope in his eyes. He looked handsome today in his button-up shirt, but even that familiar sight couldn’t stop the restless energy buzzing under your skin.
Finally, the door opened.
Jeon Jungkook stepped inside, and for a moment the world seemed to tilt.
He was stunning. Easily one of the most beautiful men you had ever seen. Tall and broad-shouldered, he moved with a quiet, confident grace that immediately filled the room. His black hair was slightly tousled, falling over his forehead in a way that looked effortlessly perfect. Sharp jawline, full lips, and dark, piercing eyes framed by long lashes. He wore a fitted black button-down with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, revealing tattoos that disappeared beneath the fabric, and tailored slacks that accentuated his powerful thighs. The subtle scent of his cologne, something woody and expensive, reached you as he closed the door behind him.
You couldn’t stop staring.
Jungkook didn’t speak right away. He crossed the room and settled into the large leather chair across from you, clipboard in hand. For several long minutes he simply read over his notes, his expression calm and focused. The silence was heavy. You found yourself tracing the line of his neck, the way his fingers held the pen with quiet strength, the faint flex of muscle in his forearm as he turned a page. Heat crept up your neck. Soobin shifted beside you, but you couldn’t tear your gaze away from the man in front of you.
After what felt like forever, Jungkook finally looked up.
His eyes met yours first, then shifted to Soobin. A small, professional smile curved his lips, warm, but with something unreadable flickering behind it. “Hello,” he said, voice smooth and low, like velvet dragged over stone. “I’m Jeon Jungkook. Thank you for waiting. I’ve reviewed the intake forms you filled out online.” He set the clipboard on his lap and leaned back slightly, giving you both his full attention. “So… why don’t you tell me what brought you here today?”
You swallowed hard, mouth suddenly dry. Soobin gave your hand another squeeze, silently encouraging you to start. Your voice came out softer than intended as you began to speak.
You told him everything. How the sex had been good in the beginning, warm, loving, safe. How over the past couple of years it had slowly become routine and unsatisfying. You described lying beneath Soobin, faking soft moans while your body remained tense and frustrated. The mechanical rhythm, the lack of real spark, the growing ache that no amount of “fine” could satisfy. You mentioned slipping away to the bathroom at night with your vibrator, chasing the intense pleasure your boyfriend could no longer give you. Your cheeks burned as you spoke, but Jungkook’s gaze never wavered. He listened with complete focus, occasionally nodding or jotting something down on his clipboard.
Soobin chimed in quietly, his voice laced with vulnerability. He admitted feeling the distance growing between you two. How he could sense you weren’t fully there with him anymore, how guilty it made him feel, how much he still wanted you but didn’t know how to reach you the way he used to. He spoke about the pressure of wanting to please you and constantly falling short.
Jungkook listened intently the entire time.
His dark eyes flicked between the two of you, absorbing every word. Every so often he would write something down in neat, precise strokes, his pen moving across the paper with a soft scratch that somehow felt intimate in the quiet room. He didn’t interrupt. He didn’t offer empty reassurances. He simply absorbed it all, head slightly tilted, expression thoughtful and impossibly focused. You found yourself wondering what exactly he was writing. What he was thinking. Whether he could already picture exactly how to fix what was broken between you.
When you both finally fell silent, the room felt heavier than before. Your heart was racing, thighs warm, a traitorous pulse beating between your legs as you watched Jungkook tap his pen against the clipboard once, twice, before setting it down.
“I appreciate how open you’ve both been so far,” he began, eyes flicking between you and Soobin. “But to truly help, I need to understand the specifics. The details matter. How often do you have sex currently? How long do your sessions usually last, from start to finish? And most importantly… what does it actually look like when you’re together?”
You felt heat bloom across your chest and climb up your neck. Soobin’s hand tightened slightly around yours, his palm growing warmer. Jungkook waited patiently, giving you both space, but his dark eyes were sharp, missing nothing. When neither of you spoke immediately, he continued gently, guiding the conversation. “Let’s start with positions,” he said, tone professional yet undeniably intimate. “What positions do you usually use? Do you switch often? How does foreplay factor in— duration, techniques? And how long does penetration usually last before one or both of you finishes?”
The questions landed heavily in the quiet room. You swallowed, mouth dry, your sundress suddenly feeling too thin against your skin. Jungkook’s gaze settled on you expectantly, patient but commanding. There was something about the way he looked at you— focused, knowing, like he could already see the frustration coiled tight in your body, that made your pulse throb between your legs.
You took a shaky breath and forced the words out, voice barely above a whisper at first. “We… we mostly just do missionary,” you admitted, cheeks burning. “It’s what feels most natural for us, I guess. Comfortable. Soobin on top, me on my back. Sometimes I’ll ride him, cowgirl, but not very often. And when I do… there’s not much vigor to it. I get tired quickly, or it just doesn’t feel… right.”
Jungkook nodded slowly, writing something down in those neat strokes. The scratch of his pen seemed louder than it should have been. He didn’t look surprised or judgmental. Instead, his expression remained thoughtfully neutral, though you swore you caught the faintest flicker of something darker, interest, perhaps, behind his eyes.
“And how long does it usually last?” he asked, voice smooth. “From the moment clothes come off to when it’s over. Be honest.”
Soobin cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably beside you. His ears had turned pink. “Maybe… ten to fifteen minutes?” he offered quietly. “Sometimes less. I try to hold out, but…”
You squeezed his hand, both ashamed and relieved to finally say it aloud. “It’s not that it’s bad,” you added quickly, though the words felt hollow even to you. “It’s just… short. And always the same. Missionary with him above me, moving steadily until he finishes. I rarely do on my own during it. When I ride him, I try to move, but it feels awkward. Like I don’t know how to make it feel good for either of us anymore. There’s no real… intensity. No roughness. No experimentation.”
Jungkook listened with complete focus. His full lips pressed together in thought as he processed your words. He uncrossed his legs and leaned forward again, elbows on his knees, closing some of the distance between you. The scent of his cologne wrapped around you, warm, masculine, expensive. “No oral?” he asked calmly. “No doggy style? No standing positions, no restraints, no toys during sex together? You mentioned using a vibrator alone at night, does Soobin ever use it on you? Or watch you use it?”
Each question felt like a layer being peeled back. You squirmed in your seat, painfully aware of the growing wetness between your thighs. The way Jungkook spoke, so direct, so clinical, yet dripping with unspoken promise, made your mind race with images you knew you shouldn’t be having in this moment. Him. Those tattooed arms. That confident grip. Showing you exactly what you’d been missing.
Soobin shook his head slowly. “We’ve tried oral a few times, but… it doesn’t last long. And no, we’ve never really done any of the other stuff. It just never felt necessary before. Or maybe we didn’t know how.”
You nodded in agreement, biting your lip. “It’s always been vanilla. Safe. But now it feels too safe. Too… predictable. I love him. I do. But I lie there wondering if this is just how it’s going to be forever.”
Jungkook’s eyes lingered on you a moment longer than necessary before he wrote a few more lines. The silence that followed was thick with tension. He finally set the pen down and looked at you both, his expression composed but carrying an undeniable edge of authority. “I understand,” he said, voice dropping slightly. “You’re stuck in a very narrow script. Missionary and occasional cowgirl with minimal energy or variation, that explains a lot about the frustration you’re both feeling. Your bodies have adapted to routine. Comfort has replaced desire.”
Jungkook set his clipboard aside completely now, the soft thud of it hitting the side table sounding final. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and fixed both of you with a steady, intense gaze. The professional mask was still there, but something sharper and more commanding lingered just beneath it.
“I’ve heard enough to see the pattern clearly,” he said, voice low and smooth. “Words and explanations can only go so far. At this point, the most effective way for me to help is through demonstration. I’d like to show Soobin exactly how to touch you, how to build real desire, and how to awaken the parts of your body that have been neglected.”
He let the words settle in the heavy silence of the room before turning his full attention to you. “I won’t do anything without your explicit consent,” Jungkook continued, his dark eyes locking onto yours. “This would involve me touching you directly while Soobin watches. I’ll start slow. I’ll show him how to kiss you, how to touch you, how to read your body’s responses. If at any point you want to stop, you say the word and everything ends immediately.”
Your heart hammered wildly in your chest. Heat flooded your face, your neck, and lower. You could feel Soobin’s hand tense in yours, his breathing shallow beside you. For a long moment, the only sound was the soft ambient music and the rush of blood in your ears.
Jungkook waited patiently, giving you time. His gaze never wavered— calm, confident, and impossibly magnetic. You swallowed hard, throat dry. Nervous energy twisted in your stomach, but underneath it, something hotter and more dangerous stirred. A deep, aching curiosity. Excitement. “Yes,” you whispered, voice barely audible at first. Then stronger, “Yes… I want that.”
Jungkook’s lips curved into a small, approving smile. He glanced at Soobin. “And you? Are you comfortable with me demonstrating on your girlfriend while you observe?”
Soobin hesitated for only a second, then gave a slow nod, his cheeks flushed. “If she wants it… then yes.” Jungkook stood up smoothly, moving with that quiet, predatory grace. He crossed the short distance between his chair and the wide, plush chaise lounge where you and Soobin were seated. He extended his hand to you.
“Come here,” he said softly. “Lie back and get comfortable.”
Your legs felt unsteady as you stood. Soobin released your hand, and you moved to the chaise, heart pounding so hard you were sure they could both hear it. You lay back against the soft cushions, your sundress riding up slightly against your thighs. Jungkook sat on the edge beside you, the heat of his body immediately noticeable. He was so close now. The scent of his cologne, the faint warmth radiating from his broad frame, the way his button-up shirt stretched across his chest, it was overwhelming.
He looked down at you, eyes dark and focused. “Relax for me,” he murmured. “We’re going to start very slow.” Jungkook leaned in, one hand gently brushing your hair away from your neck. His breath ghosted over your skin first, sending shivers racing down your spine. Then his lips pressed softly just below your ear. The kiss was feather-light at first, warm, deliberate. He took his time, kissing down the sensitive column of your neck with slow, lingering presses of his mouth. Each one felt intentional, like he was learning the map of your reactions.
A shaky exhale left your lips. Your eyes fluttered half-closed as he kissed lower, finding the spot where your neck met your shoulder and sucking gently. The wet heat of his tongue traced a small circle there, and your back arched instinctively. One of his hands slid up your side, slow and confident, until his large palm cupped your breast through the thin fabric of your dress. He squeezed gently, thumb brushing over your nipple in slow, teasing strokes until it hardened under his touch.
“See how she responds when you take your time?” Jungkook said quietly, speaking to Soobin without pulling his mouth away from your neck. His voice had dropped even lower. “Don’t rush straight to the obvious places. Build it. Make her feel wanted.”
He kneaded your breast with just the right amount of pressure, rolling your nipple between his fingers over your dress, while his mouth continued its slow exploration of your neck and collarbones. Soft, open-mouthed kisses. The occasional gentle scrape of teeth that made your thighs press together. Your breathing had already grown uneven, small sounds escaping you that you didn’t even try to hold back.
Jungkook’s free hand rested on your waist, holding you in place as he shifted slightly closer. The weight and warmth of him beside you made your head spin. Every touch was precise, controlled, and devastatingly effective. You could already feel yourself getting wet, arousal pooling between your legs far faster than it ever did with Soobin.
Soobin sat quietly in the chair nearby, eyes wide and fixed on every movement. His hands were clenched tightly in his lap, breathing audible. Jungkook pulled back just enough to look at your face, his thumb still lazily circling your nipple. His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide. “How does that feel?” he asked you, voice husky. “Be honest.”
You could barely form words. Your neck tingled where his mouth had been, your breast warm and heavy under his hand. “It feels… really good,” you breathed, cheeks burning.
A satisfied smile tugged at Jungkook’s lips. “Good,” he murmured, leaning back down. “Then let’s continue.” Jungkook’s hands moved with deliberate confidence as he sat up slightly on the edge of the chaise. His dark eyes never left your face, reading every flicker of nervousness and arousal that crossed it. “Let’s remove this,” he murmured, voice low and reassuring. “I want you to feel everything without barriers.”
His fingers found the hem of your sundress, slowly sliding it upward. The fabric whispered against your skin as he lifted it inch by inch, exposing your thighs, then your hips, then the soft curve of your stomach. You raised your arms obediently, heart hammering against your ribs. With one smooth, practiced motion, Jungkook pulled the dress up and over your head, leaving your hair slightly tousled. He set the garment aside neatly on a nearby chair, his gaze roaming over your body now clad only in your bra and matching underwear.
The cool air of the room kissed your newly exposed skin, making you shiver. You felt incredibly vulnerable under their combined stares— Soobin’s wide-eyed and tense from his seat, and Jungkook’s dark, hungry, yet still controlled. Jungkook hummed softly in approval, his large hands returning to your body immediately.
He leaned down again, lips finding your neck once more. This time his kisses were deeper, more possessive, sucking gently at your pulse point while one hand cupped your breast through the thin lace of your bra. His thumb brushed over your nipple in slow, teasing circles, coaxing it to a stiff peak. He kneaded the soft flesh with just the right pressure, firm enough to make you arch into his touch, but never rushed.
“Watch how I’m touching her,” Jungkook said quietly to Soobin, his mouth still hovering against your heated skin. “Don’t just grab. Mold her breast in your palm like this… feel its weight. Use your thumb to tease her nipple until it’s sensitive. Her body is already responding, see how her breathing changed? That’s what you want.”
You let out a shaky whimper as he emphasized his words by pinching your nipple lightly through the fabric, rolling it between his fingers. Pleasure shot straight down between your legs. Jungkook continued kissing down your collarbone, occasionally glancing toward Soobin to explain, his voice smooth and instructional even as his hands worked magic on your body.
After several long, indulgent minutes of kissing and caressing your breasts, Jungkook’s hand began to travel lower. His palm smoothed down your stomach, fingers tracing the waistband of your underwear. He looked up at you, eyes intense. “Still okay?” he asked softly.
You nodded quickly, biting your lip. “Yes…”
With your permission, his hand slipped beneath the fabric of your panties. The first touch of his fingers against your bare, heated skin made you gasp. You were already slick with arousal, embarrassingly wet from everything he’d done so far. Jungkook’s middle and ring fingers found your swollen clit and began rubbing slow, lazy circles over it.
“Fuck… she’s soaked,” he murmured, almost to himself, though loud enough for Soobin to hear. His fingers moved with expert precision, not too fast, not too light, applying perfect pressure as he circled your clit again and again. “This is key, Soobin. Don’t rush to penetrate her. Spend time here. Learn exactly how she likes to be touched. Feel how her hips are already trying to follow my hand?”
Your thighs trembled. Soft, needy sounds spilled from your lips as Jungkook continued the torturously slow rubbing. Heat coiled tighter and tighter in your lower belly. Every circle of his fingers sent sparks of pleasure racing through you. He kept his mouth on your neck and chest the entire time, kissing and gently biting while his hand worked between your legs.
After several drawn-out minutes of this, Jungkook shifted slightly. He used two fingers to pull your soaked panties to the side, fully exposing you. Without warning, he slowly pushed one thick finger inside you, then a second, stretching you open with delicious care. A broken moan escaped your throat. Your back arched off the chaise as his fingers sank deeper, curling slightly to find that sensitive spot inside you. Jungkook groaned softly in approval at how tightly you clenched around him.
“See that?” he said to Soobin, voice huskier now. “She’s gripping my fingers so tightly. This is what happens when you take the time to arouse her properly. Slide in slowly… curl them like this… and listen to the sounds she makes.” He began thrusting his fingers in and out in long, deep strokes, his thumb returning to rub circles over your clit at the same time. The dual sensation was overwhelming. Your hips rolled against his hand instinctively, chasing the building pleasure while Soobin watched every single movement with flushed cheeks and parted lips.
Jungkook’s eyes flicked back to your face, watching you intently as he fingered you with steady, devastating skill. “You’re doing so well,” he praised softly, pumping his fingers deeper. “Let me hear you.”
Jungkook’s fingers moved with growing intensity, thrusting deeper and faster into your soaked pussy. The wet, obscene sounds of his thick fingers pumping in and out filled the room, mixing with your increasingly loud moans. You couldn’t hold back anymore. Your head fell back against the chaise as shameless whimpers and cries spilled from your lips. “Ah— fuck… Jungkook—” you moaned loudly, your voice breaking on his name. Your fingers dug desperately into his muscular arm, gripping the hard bicep through his shirt as if it were the only thing keeping you grounded. Your hips bucked up to meet every thrust, chasing the overwhelming pleasure he was giving you so effortlessly. “Oh my god… it feels so good—”
“That’s it,” Jungkook praised, his voice low and rough. “Let it out. Don’t hold back for me.” His fingers curled perfectly against that sensitive spot inside you with every stroke, faster now, more relentless. The wet squelching sounds grew louder as your arousal coated his hand and dripped down between your thighs.
Your moans turned into desperate, breathy cries. Your thighs trembled violently around his wrist as the pleasure built higher and higher, far beyond anything you’d felt in months.
Jungkook suddenly slowed his fingers, keeping them buried deep inside you, and shifted his position. He moved onto his knees on the chaise, spreading your legs wider with his free hand. He looked over at Soobin, eyes dark with lust but still carrying that instructional tone. “I’m going to eat her out while I keep fingering her,” he told Soobin calmly. “This combination is extremely effective. Watch how I use my tongue.”
You whimpered at his words alone, already anticipating what was coming. Jungkook hooked his fingers under the waistband of your soaked panties and pulled them down your legs, tossing them aside. Completely exposed now, you shivered under his gaze.
He leaned down between your spread thighs, face inches from your dripping pussy. Without warning, he spat directly onto your swollen hole, the warm saliva landing right at your entrance. You gasped sharply at the filthy sensation. Jungkook used two fingers to spread the spit around, mixing it with your own wetness, before pushing his fingers back inside you.
Then his tongue was on you. A loud, broken moan tore from your throat as his warm, wet tongue licked a long, slow stripe up your pussy before focusing on your clit. He sucked the sensitive bud into his mouth while his fingers continued thrusting in and out of you, faster than before. Then he did exactly what he’d described, he fucked the spit into your hole with his tongue, pushing it inside you alongside his fingers in messy, obscene strokes.
You were on cloud nine.
“Fuck—! Jungkook— oh my fucking god—” you cried out, voice loud and unrestrained. Your back arched sharply off the chaise as intense pleasure crashed through your body. Your hands flew to his head, fingers threading through his soft dark hair, gripping tightly as his tongue fucked into you deeper. The wet sounds of his mouth devouring your pussy mixed with the filthy squelch of his fingers pumping relentlessly inside you.
Jungkook groaned against your cunt, the vibration sending shocks of pleasure through you. He alternated between fucking you with his tongue and sucking hard on your clit, all while his fingers curled and stroked that perfect spot without mercy. “Soobin,” Jungkook said, pulling back just enough to speak, his lips shiny with your juices. “Come closer. Sit right next to her. She needs you here.”
Soobin moved quickly, his face flushed dark red. He sat on the edge of the chaise beside you, eyes wide as he watched Jungkook devour you. You reached out blindly, grabbing Soobin’s hand and squeezing it hard as another loud moan ripped from your throat.
“Baby— ahh— it feels so good,” you whimpered to Soobin, voice shaking. Your body thrashed under Jungkook’s skilled mouth and fingers, hips grinding desperately against his face. You gripped Soobin’s hand like a lifeline while your other hand stayed tangled in Jungkook’s hair, pulling him harder against your pussy.
Jungkook doubled down, tongue fucking into you even deeper, spitting on your cunt again before diving back in with messy, hungry strokes. His fingers never stopped their brutal pace, curling and thrusting until your moans turned into near-screams of pleasure.
You were lost in it, whimpering, moaning, and shaking uncontrollably as the man between your legs showed you exactly what your body had been missing, while you held your boyfriend’s hand through every devastating wave of pleasure.
The pleasure built to an unbearable peak as Jungkook’s tongue fucked relentlessly into your dripping hole and his fingers curled against that perfect spot inside you. Your moans turned into desperate, broken cries, growing louder and more frantic with every filthy stroke of his skilled mouth. You gripped Soobin’s hand so tightly your knuckles turned white, your other hand fisting Jungkook’s dark hair as your hips bucked wildly against his face.
Suddenly, the coil inside you snapped.
You came hard on his tongue with a loud, shuddering scream. “Jungkook—! Fuck, I’m cumming—!” Your entire body convulsed violently, thighs clamping around his head as powerful waves of pleasure crashed through you. Your pussy clenched and fluttered around his fingers and tongue, gushing wetly against his mouth while he continued licking and sucking through every pulse of your orgasm. You thrashed on the chaise, moaning shamelessly, eyes squeezed shut as the intense release left you trembling and breathless. Soobin’s hand stayed firmly in yours the entire time, grounding you even as you fell apart under another man’s mouth.
Jungkook worked you through every last aftershock, licking you slowly and gently until your body finally sagged against the cushions, panting and dazed. Only then did he pull back, his lips and chin glistening with your cum. He looked devastatingly handsome like that, flushed, eyes dark with lust, and breathing heavily.
He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and looked between you and Soobin, voice low and husky but still controlled. “Are you both willing to continue?” he asked. “I’d like to move into demonstrating positions. The difference between what you’ve been doing and what she actually needs.”
You didn’t even hesitate. Still floating on the high of your orgasm, arousal already stirring again, you nodded eagerly. “Yes,” you breathed, almost desperately. “Please… I want more.”
Soobin swallowed hard, visibly affected by what he’d just witnessed, but he nodded as well. “If she wants it… yes.”
A satisfied, almost predatory smile tugged at Jungkook’s lips. “Good,” he murmured. “I’m going to fuck her raw. Skin to skin. No condom. She needs to feel the full effect, the heat, the friction, everything. Then I’ll show you, Soobin, exactly how to make missionary feel incredible for her instead of just… adequate.”
Jungkook reached behind your back with skilled fingers and unclasped your bra. He slid the straps down your shoulders slowly, savoring the moment as he pulled the lace away and dropped it aside. Your breasts spilled free, nipples already hard and aching. He groaned softly at the sight before leaning down and capturing one nipple in his mouth.
He sucked on it hungrily, tongue swirling around the sensitive peak while his large hand kneaded the soft flesh of your other breast. He switched sides, giving the same devoted attention to the other nipple, sucking harder, grazing his teeth gently, then soothing with his tongue. The wet sounds of his mouth on your breasts filled the room as you moaned and arched into him, your body responding instantly.
After several long, indulgent minutes of worshipping your chest, Jungkook finally positioned himself between your spread thighs, after kicking his pants and boxers off. He gripped his thick, hard cock in one hand, stroking it slowly as he looked down at your flushed, dripping pussy. “Watch carefully,” he told Soobin, voice rough. “This is how you claim her.”
He rubbed the swollen head of his cock up and down your slick folds, coating himself in your wetness, before pressing against your entrance. With a low groan, Jungkook pushed forward and slid into you in one long, deep thrust, burying himself to the hilt inside your tight, fluttering heat.
You cried out loudly at the stretch, your back arching sharply. He was big, thicker and longer than Soobin, and the raw, bare feeling of him inside you was overwhelming. “Fuck… so tight,” Jungkook growled, holding still for a moment to let you adjust. Then he pulled back almost all the way before slamming back in, setting a rough, brutal pace immediately.
The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed through the room as he fucked you hard and deep. Each powerful thrust rocked your entire body, your breasts bouncing with the force of it. Jungkook’s hands gripped your hips tightly, holding you in place as he drove into you again and again, the wet, filthy sounds of your pussy taking his cock filling the air. “That’s it,” he groaned, eyes locked on your face. “Take my cock. Feel how deep I am?”
Your moans were loud and unrestrained, turning into near-screams every time he bottomed out inside you. The brutal pace left you shaking, gripping the cushions beneath you as wave after wave of intense pleasure rolled through your body.
Jungkook’s grip on your hips tightened, his fingers digging into your soft flesh with possessive strength. He used your body like a personal toy, pulling you down onto his thick cock with every brutal thrust. Instead of just fucking into you, he yanked your hips forward to meet him, slamming you onto his length over and over again in a relentless rhythm. The wet, filthy sound of your soaked pussy being filled echoed loudly in the room with every powerful motion. Each time he dragged you back down, his cock buried itself impossibly deep, the head kissing your cervix and sending sparks of overwhelming pleasure shooting through your entire body.
“Fuck—!” you cried out, voice hoarse and broken. Your head tossed back against the chaise, mouth falling open in a constant stream of moans and whimpers.
Jungkook glanced over at Soobin, breathing heavily but still in control. “Soobin,” he growled, never slowing the way he was manhandling you onto his cock. “Play with her clit. Rub it while I fuck her. She needs the extra stimulation.”
Soobin hesitated only for a second before leaning closer. His hand trembled slightly as he reached between your bodies and found your swollen, sensitive clit. He began rubbing slow circles over it, just like he’d watched Jungkook do earlier. The added sensation was immediate and devastating.
Your moans instantly grew louder, turning into desperate, shameless cries. “Oh my god—! It’s so good… so fucking good— Jungkook, your cock is so big— I can’t— ahh!” The words spilled out of you in a messy, nonsensical stream.
Jungkook groaned in satisfaction at your words, his pace growing even more punishing. He kept yanking your hips down onto him with raw strength, using your body exactly how he wanted. The wet slap of skin against skin was constant now, your arousal dripping down his balls and soaking the chaise beneath you. Every brutal thrust made your breasts bounce heavily, your entire body jolting with the force of him claiming you.
Soobin’s fingers kept rubbing your clit, faster now, his eyes wide and dark as he watched you fall apart. “You look so beautiful like this,” he whispered, voice thick with a mix of emotions. “All fucked out… you’re glowing. So fucking pretty when you’re moaning like that.”
His words only pushed you higher. You squeezed Soobin’s hand tighter with your free one while your other hand clutched desperately at Jungkook’s forearm, nails digging into his tattooed skin. “Your dick is so big, it feels too good, I can’t think— please don’t stop—!” you babbled loudly, words slurring together between broken moans and gasps. Tears of overwhelming pleasure pricked at the corners of your eyes as he continued to wreck you.
Jungkook smirked, dark eyes gleaming with lust and satisfaction. He adjusted his angle slightly and started pounding into you even harder, pulling you onto his cock with every snap of his hips. The new position made him hit that perfect spot inside you with devastating accuracy on every thrust. Sweat glistened on his forehead and neck, his shirt now clinging to his muscular chest from exertion.
“That’s right,” he growled, voice rough and low. “Feel how deep I am? This is what your pussy needed. Not soft, polite sex. It needed to be ruined like this.”
He kept using your body ruthlessly, yanking you down onto him, grinding deep, then pulling back only to slam you onto his length again. Soobin never stopped rubbing tight, slick circles on your clit, his eyes flicking between your face and the sight of Jungkook’s thick cock disappearing inside you repeatedly.
The pleasure was blinding. Your moans echoed shamelessly through the room as another orgasm began rapidly building, even stronger than the first. Jungkook was fucking you better than you had ever been fucked in your life. The brutal pace of Jungkook’s cock slamming into you, combined with Soobin’s fingers rubbing relentless circles on your swollen clit, pushed you straight over the edge again.
Your second orgasm hit you like a freight train.
“Jungkook—! I’m cumming— fuck. ” you screamed, your voice cracking as your entire body seized up. Your pussy clenched violently around his thick cock, fluttering and gushing as powerful waves of pleasure ripped through you. Your back arched sharply off the chaise, thighs shaking uncontrollably while Jungkook kept fucking you through it, dragging out every last pulse of your release. Soobin’s hand never stopped, prolonging the overwhelming sensation until you were sobbing with pleasure, tears slipping down your cheeks.
You were still twitching and gasping, trying to catch your breath, when Jungkook suddenly pulled out of you with a wet sound. Before you could even whimper at the loss, he grabbed you by the waist and lifted you effortlessly, as if you weighed nothing.
He turned and sat down on the chaise, pulling you with him so you straddled his lap facing him. He guided you down onto his cock again in one smooth motion, burying himself back inside your sensitive, fluttering pussy. This new position pressed your bodies flush together, chest to chest, your knees bent on either side of his hips.
“This is called the lotus position,” Jungkook explained to Soobin, voice deep and slightly breathless as he held you firmly on his cock. “It’s intimate. She’s completely wrapped around me, which lets me hit every sensitive spot inside her. The closeness increases stimulation on her clit and lets her control the depth and rhythm while I guide her. It feels incredible for her because she’s full and every movement grinds right against her g-spot.”
You barely had time to process his words before your body took over. Still trembling from your last orgasm, you started moving on him, slow at first, then faster, rolling and bouncing on his thick length with desperate need. The new angle made him feel even deeper, pressing against places you didn’t even know existed.
“Ahh! Jungkook!” you sobbed, pleasure bordering on too much. Your hands gripped his broad shoulders tightly, nails digging into his shirt as you rode him. Your head tipped back, mouth open in a constant stream of broken moans and cries. “It’s so deep… so fucking deep, oh my god.”
Tears continued slipping down your flushed cheeks as you moved faster, chasing the overwhelming pleasure. Your breasts bounced heavily with every roll of your hips, pussy swallowing his cock again and again with wet, obscene sounds.
Jungkook groaned deeply, his hands sliding down to grip your ass. He kneaded the soft, plump flesh roughly, spreading your cheeks as he helped guide you up and down on his cock. Then— smack, his palm came down hard on your right cheek, the sharp sound echoing through the room. You cried out at the sting, clenching tighter around him. “Fuck, that’s it,” he growled, slapping your ass again, harder this time. “Ride me just like that. Use my cock.”
He buried his face between your bouncing tits, sucking one nipple into his hot mouth while his hands continued kneading and spanking your ass in rhythm with your movements. He groaned against your skin, tongue swirling and teeth grazing as he devoured you.
You were lost in it— sobbing, moaning, and babbling nonsense while you rode him with everything you had.Your head stayed tipped back, eyes half-lidded and glassy with overwhelming pleasure as you held onto his shoulders for dear life. Soobin watched everything in stunned silence from just inches away, eyes dark and fixed on the way your body moved on Jungkook’s cock and how his hands owned your ass.
Jungkook pulled his mouth from your nipple just long enough to look up at your pleasure-drunk face, voice rough with lust. “That’s my good girl… Keep fucking yourself on me. Let him see how pretty you look when you’re falling apart.”
You were completely lost in the overwhelming pleasure, rolling your hips desperately on Jungkook’s thick cock in this position. Your voice had grown hoarse from moaning, but his name still fell from your lips like a prayer. “Jungkook… Jungkook— fuck, Jungkook—” you whimpered repeatedly, your head tipped back and eyes glazed over.
Jungkook pulled his face from your breasts, lips shiny, and looked up at you with dark, lust-filled eyes. His hands squeezed your ass firmly as he held you down on his cock, grinding up into you slowly. “What is it, pretty girl?” he asked, voice low and teasing, a smirk playing on his lips. “What do you need? Tell me. Use your words.”
You sobbed softly, still moving on him, drunk on the feeling of being so full. “I want it from behind,” you begged, voice shaky and desperate. “Please… I want you to fuck me from behind.”
Jungkook let out a deep, amused chuckle that vibrated through his chest. “Greedy girl,” he murmured affectionately. Without warning, he lifted you off his cock, making you whine at the sudden emptiness. He easily maneuvered your body, turning you around on the chaise.
He guided you into position with strong, confident hands. “Soobin, sit down right here,” he instructed. Soobin obeyed, sitting on the chaise with his back against the cushions. Jungkook then pushed you forward until your face hovered just above Soobin’s lap, your elbows resting on either side of his knees. Your back was arched deeply, ass up and presented perfectly for Jungkook behind you.
You looked up at Soobin through your lashes, flushed and breathing hard, your cheek nearly brushing against the bulge in his pants.
Instead of immediately sliding his cock into you, Jungkook knelt behind you. He spread your ass cheeks wide with both hands, exposing you completely. He leaned in and sank his teeth gently into the soft flesh of your right ass cheek, biting and sucking hard enough to make you gasp sharply.
“I’m going to eat her ass now,” Jungkook explained to Soobin, voice calm but dripping with lust. “Most men skip this, but it feels incredible for her. It relaxes her and makes her even wetter. Watch.” Before you could fully prepare yourself, Jungkook buried his face between your cheeks.
A loud, broken cry tore from your throat the moment his warm, wet tongue licked a slow, filthy stripe over your tight hole. “Oh my god!” you screamed, your whole body jerking forward. He licked you again, slower this time, swirling the tip of his tongue around your rim before pressing it inside you.
You were crying out uncontrollably now, the pleasure intense and strangely intimate. Your hands scrambled desperately for purchase, grabbing onto Soobin’s thighs and squeezing hard as Jungkook devoured your ass with filthy enthusiasm. He groaned against your skin, the vibrations making your eyes roll back.
His tongue pushed deeper, fucking into your tight hole with wet, obscene sounds while one of his hands reached underneath to rub firm circles on your clit. He alternated between long, broad licks and pointed thrusts of his tongue, eating you like a man starved. Every stroke sent jolts of sharp, dirty pleasure racing up your spine. “Fuck— Jungkook, it feels so fucking good!” you sobbed, pushing back against his face instinctively. Tears of overwhelming sensation rolled down your cheeks as you panted against Soobin’s thigh, looking up at him with glassy, fucked-out eyes.
Jungkook pulled back just enough to speak, his breath hot against your wet skin. “Hear how loud she gets when I eat her ass? This is what she’s been missing.” Then he dove right back in, licking and sucking even more eagerly, his face pressed fully between your cheeks as he worked you open with his skilled tongue.
Your moans and cries filled the entire room, shameless and loud, while your hands gripped Soobin’s thighs like a lifeline, trembling as Jungkook continued. Jungkook didn’t rush. He kept his face buried between your spread cheeks, devouring you with slow, filthy dedication. His tongue swirled and probed at your tight rim, licking long stripes from your dripping pussy up to your asshole before pushing inside again. Every time his tongue fucked into your ass, a fresh wave of overwhelming pleasure crashed through you, making your back arch deeper and your fingers dig harder into Soobin’s thighs.
Your hips pushed back against his face instinctively, chasing more of that dirty, intense sensation. He groaned deeply against your skin, the vibration traveling straight through you as he continued with even more enthusiasm. He spread your cheeks wider with both hands, fully exposing you, and spat directly onto your hole before diving back in, licking and sucking like he couldn’t get enough.
Minutes stretched out in a haze of pleasure. Jungkook took his time, alternating between broad, sloppy licks and sharp, pointed thrusts of his tongue deep inside you. One of his hands stayed between your legs, rubbing slow, firm circles on your swollen clit while the other kneaded and slapped your ass cheek occasionally, the sharp smacks making you jolt and moan louder. You were a mess, sobbing, whimpering, and shaking as he continued rimming you relentlessly, pushing you closer and closer to the edge again without ever letting you tip over.
Only when your legs were trembling uncontrollably and your cries had turned into constant, desperate begging did Jungkook finally pull back. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and rose onto his knees behind you, his voice rough with lust as he spoke to Soobin. “Now I’m going to fuck her from behind. Hard. This position lets me go deeper and gives me full control.”
You barely had time to catch your breath before you felt the thick, blunt head of Jungkook’s cock pressing against your soaked entrance. In one powerful thrust, he buried himself to the hilt inside your pussy, stretching you open around his thick length.
A loud, broken scream tore from your throat. "Fuck yes!" He didn’t give you any time to adjust. He immediately set a brutal, punishing pace, slamming into you hard and deep. The sound of his hips slapping against your ass echoed loudly through the room with every thrust. He gripped your hips tightly, yanking you back onto his cock over and over again, using your body exactly how he wanted.
“Fuck— so tight,” he growled, voice low and strained.
Every brutal snap of his hips drove his cock impossibly deep, the head kissing your cervix with every stroke. Your elbows trembled as you tried to hold yourself up, face buried against Soobin’s thigh while your moans and cries grew louder and more broken. Jungkook reached forward and grabbed a fistful of your hair, pulling your head back slightly so your back arched even more for him.
“You like that?” he groaned, pounding into you mercilessly. “You like being fucked like a little toy from behind?”
“Yes! Yes, fuck— Jungkook!” you sobbed, tears of overwhelming pleasure streaming down your face. The angle was devastating. Every thrust ground against that perfect spot inside you, making your legs shake violently. Your pussy clenched tightly around his cock, soaking him with every rough stroke as he continued to rail you without mercy.
Jungkook’s pace was relentless, hard, fast, and animalistic. The wet, filthy sound of your arousal squelching around his cock mixed with the sharp slap of skin on skin. He kept one hand fisted in your hair and the other gripping your hip hard enough to leave marks, pulling you back onto him with every thrust like he was trying to bury himself even deeper.
Jungkook continued pounding into you with deep, powerful strokes, his hips snapping against your ass with a loud, rhythmic slap. Your moans were constant and broken, your body jolting forward with every brutal thrust while your face stayed pressed against Soobin’s thigh. Jungkook’s grip on your hips was iron-tight, fingers digging into your skin as he used you relentlessly.
He slowed his thrusts just enough to speak, his voice rough and commanding, yet still instructional. “Soobin,” he said, breathing heavily. “Grab her hips. Both hands. I want you to help move her back and forth on my cock. Feel how she takes me. Learn the rhythm she needs.”
Soobin hesitated for a moment, eyes wide as he watched Jungkook’s thick cock disappear inside you again and again. His cheeks were flushed dark red, but after a few seconds, he leaned forward and placed his hands on your hips, right beside Jungkook’s.
“That’s it,” Jungkook encouraged, still buried deep inside you. “Pull her back onto me when I thrust forward. Help her fuck herself on my cock. She loves it deep like this.”
Soobin’s hands tightened on your hips. At first his grip was gentle, almost uncertain, but as Jungkook started moving again, Soobin began pulling you back onto Jungkook’s cock in time with his thrusts. The added force made Jungkook’s cock slam even deeper inside you.
A loud, broken cry ripped from your throat. “Oh my god!” you sobbed, eyes squeezing shut as the new sensation overwhelmed you. Soobin’s familiar hands pulling you back combined with Jungkook’s massive cock stretching and ruining you created an intensity you’d never felt before. Every time Soobin yanked your hips back, Jungkook’s thick length drove into you harder, filling you completely.
Jungkook groaned in approval. “Good. Harder, Soobin. She can take it. Look how her pussy is gripping me every time you pull her back.”
Soobin’s grip grew firmer, more confident. He started pulling your hips back with more strength, helping impale you on Jungkook’s cock over and over again. The wet, filthy sounds grew even louder — the obscene squelching of your soaked pussy mixed with the sharp slap of skin whenever your ass met Jungkook’s hips.
You were falling apart between them.
“Fuck— fuck— it’s so deep!” you cried out, voice muffled against Soobin’s thigh. Your hands clutched desperately at Soobin’s legs, nails digging into his pants as your body was rocked between the two men. “Jungkook’s cock is so big… Soobin, baby, he’s so deep inside me— I can’t”
Jungkook kept a steady, brutal pace while Soobin pulled you back onto him with every thrust. The dual control over your body made you feel completely used, a toy being shared between them. Jungkook’s cock kissed your cervix with every forceful pull, stretching your walls perfectly around his thickness. “That’s it,” Jungkook growled, one hand moving up to grip the back of your neck while Soobin continued manipulating your hips. “Feel how she’s dripping down my cock? She’s fucking loving this. Pull her harder, Soobin. Make her take every inch.”
Soobin obeyed, his fingers pressing deeper into your soft hips as he yanked you back more forcefully. The new intensity made your eyes roll back, loud, shameless moans spilling from your lips as Jungkook fucked you raw and Soobin helped drive you onto him again and again. You were trembling violently, tears of overwhelming pleasure streaming down your face, caught in the devastating rhythm the two of them created together.
The combined rhythm was absolutely devastating. Jungkook’s thick cock slamming into you while Soobin pulled your hips back with increasing confidence created a merciless, perfect storm of pleasure. Your moans had turned into constant, broken sobs as your body was rocked between them.
Jungkook’s breathing grew harsher, his thrusts becoming more erratic and deeper. “Fuck— I’m close,” he growled, gripping your hip tighter while Soobin continued helping pull you back onto his cock. “Gonna fill this pretty pussy up.”
You could only whimper in response, your mind hazy with overwhelming pleasure. Jungkook’s pace turned punishing, slamming into you with short, brutal strokes as he chased his release. With a deep, guttural groan, Jungkook buried himself to the hilt inside you and came hard. You felt every powerful pulse as he emptied himself deep inside your pussy, thick ropes of hot cum flooding your walls. He kept grinding into you, pushing his load even deeper while growling your name under his breath.
The feeling of Jungkook cumming so deep inside you triggered your own orgasm instantly. Jungkook’s grip on your neck tightened as he pounded into you even harder. “That’s it, pretty girl. Cum on my cock. Let go.”
The pressure built impossibly high, tighter and hotter, until it finally snapped. You came harder than you ever had in your life. A loud, guttural scream tore from your throat as your entire body seized up. Your pussy clenched violently around Jungkook’s cock, and then you were squirting, hard. Clear, hot liquid gushed out around his thick cock with every thrust, soaking his hips, dripping down your thighs. You shook uncontrollably, sobbing and moaning as wave after wave of intense pleasure crashed through you. Jungkook didn’t stop, fucking you through your orgasm and prolonging it until your vision went white and your legs gave out completely.
“Fuck, look at her,” Jungkook groaned, voice rough with satisfaction. “She’s squirting everywhere. Good girl… such a messy, beautiful girl.”
Your body finally went limp, trembling with aftershocks as Jungkook slowed his thrusts and eventually stilled deep inside you. He stayed buried in your pulsing heat for a long moment, letting you feel every inch of him while you tried to catch your breath. Soobin’s hands gently rubbed your hips, soothing the marks he’d left behind.
Jungkook eventually pulled out slowly, a rush of your combined juices dripping from your ruined pussy. He helped you collapse gently onto the chaise, turning you onto your back so you could breathe easier. Your chest heaved, body covered in a light sheen of sweat, cheeks flushed, and eyes glassy with exhaustion and satisfaction.
Jungkook sat back on his heels, breathing heavily but looking pleased. He glanced at Soobin, then down at your spent body. “That,” he said calmly, “is what she needs. Not just gentle, loving sex. She needs to be fucked properly, deeply, roughly, and without hesitation. She needs variety. She needs to be used and worshipped at the same time.” He looked at you softly. “How do you feel?”
You could barely speak, still floating. “Incredible…” you whispered hoarsely. “I’ve never… felt anything like that.”
Jungkook smiled, then turned back to Soobin. “You did well today. Helping move her like that was a great start. We’ll work on building your confidence and skill. This was only the first session.”
He helped you sit up eventually, handing you a soft towel and a bottle of water from a nearby table. While you recovered, he spoke to both of you about aftercare, communication, and homework, things for Soobin to practice at home before the next appointment.
As you slowly got dressed, your legs still shaky, you couldn’t stop stealing glances at Jungkook. The memory of how he had completely ruined you while Soobin watched was burned into your mind. Soobin was quiet, but he stayed close to you, gently rubbing your back and pressing a kiss to your temple. There was a new tension in the air, something shifted between all three of you.
Before you left, Jungkook leaned against his desk, arms crossed, looking unfairly composed and handsome. “Book your next session soon,” he said with a small, knowing smirk. “We still have a lot to work on… and I think you both know now how much she needs it.”
You left the office leaning on Soobin’s arm, body sore in the most delicious way, your mind already replaying everything that had happened… and wondering how much further Jungkook would take you next time.
Jungkook is your brother’s stupidly hot best friend who has been around since you learned how to read and write. He has always known where the line is when it comes to you. The problem? You don’t.
PAIRING: brother’s bsf!jk x fem!reader
GENRE: smut w plot
WC: 13k
WARNINGS: biker!jk, brother!jaehyun (my fics mean nothing wo him), 3 year age gap, jealousy, reader’s a TEASE, she’s also so horny it’s stupid, don’t let the banner fool you it’s very summer in this, smut wise: uhh, they have sex on his bike, dry humphing (a lost art), m masturbation, riding, he has a thing for her tits, so he fucks her tits, BIG D JK AGENDA, dirty talk
NOTES: im aware this is long overdue but hear me out here!! this was going to be like 6k words max but things just…kept happening…anyways this is pure filth and self indulgence. i lost my mind after that fucking tiktok his slutty ass posted and ofc it led us here. i hope this satisfies your fantasies the way it did mine, enjoy <3
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
Jeon Jungkook is so unbelievably hot.
Though it’s not the kind that makes your eyes linger and your heart flutter. No, it’s nothing like that. He is so ridiculously attractive it leaves your pussy aching, clenching so hard around nothing you wish it’s him you bounce on until sunset blurs into sunrise. You almost feel your muscles physically hurt by how he’s always so close yet so far away when the only thing you desire is for the space between you to become a rhythm and draw you in until distance doesn’t really exist anymore.
But that doesn’t happen, that never happens when it’s Jungkook.
He’s Jaehyun’s best friend– your older brother who loves you more than anything. Your brother who still babies you because you fell off your bike and broke your arm that one time when you were sixteen. Your brother who trusts Jungkook in that effortless, unquestioning way that only comes from years of knowing someone too well– because they’ve known each other since Jungkook knocked on your door when they were nine and you were six. He’d looked up at your parents with those big brown eyes of his and asked, so politely your mother still gushes about it at family gatherings, if he could play with your brother.
That was all it took for Jungkook to stay. You remember how at first, it started with the small things. His shoes left by the door like the spot had been assigned to him, his voice echoing through the walls so often it soon blended into the background…Those little moments stretched into something bigger and bigger before you could even notice. And suddenly, he was there for everything. Anywhere from holiday dinners to summer getaways, Jungkook was always there.
But he never gave you anything.
Jaehyun is the kind of brother who treats every man like a problem, like a timed bomb ticking in the corner, patiently waiting for the right time to blow up into flames. He’s the kind of brother who lectures you about never trusting a guy, the kind who would show up at his door with something burning behind his eyes and a fist ready to throw. Not asking for questions, not looking for answers.
If anything was to ever happen between you and Jungkook, Jaehyun wouldn’t just be mad. He’d fucking lose it.
So Jungkook has always kept his distance from you.
He makes sure it’s not anything obvious, but it’s never enough for you to not notice either. The way he never stands next to you for too long, the way his hands stay to himself even when it’s not convenient, the way he looks at you just enough to acknowledge your presence, yet never enough to let it mean anything. He has always been controlled around you, way beyond measure and annoying as hell.
Because you’ve seen him with other people. You’ve seen how he talks and how he laughs. He lets himself be less careful, less contained. Just more…him. And what bothers you the most isn’t that he ignores you, he never ignores you.
Jungkook does notice you. You know it, he knows it, he definitely knows you know it too. But what’s so infuriating is the fact that he actively chooses not to react, not to acknowledge anything that comes in his way from you. It’s like he’s decided long ago that whatever line existing between the two of you is one he’s never willing to cross. Which would be fine if he wasn’t so damn irresistible.
But he is.
And tonight, you’re a little more aware of it than usual. Maybe it’s the tight little dress that’s framing your body so well you had to twirl in front of the mirror more than once just to take it in, because it just looks that good. Or maybe, it’s something else entirely; one of those nights where whatever he usually holds so carefully contained inside sits a little closer to the surface than it normally does.
You don’t think too much of it as you step out of your room, walking down the hallway barefoot as you fix your earrings. A voice drifts away from the living room until it reaches your ears. You know the voice belongs to Jaehyun, he’s home, that’s not surprising. What’s surprising is that he’s not alone.
You round the corner with your mind elsewhere, the only thought lingering on your mind being whether the shade of your lipstick is a little too dark or not. You’re already halfway into whatever you were going to say when you briefly pause by the mirror to smooth down your dress.
“Hey, do you mind if–” You start, but you cut yourself off, because when you finally drift your eyes away from the hem of your skirt and lift them up, Jungkook’s reflection stares right back at you from behind.
He’s leaning back against the couch comfortably, legs spread wide like he’s been there for so long his body has melted and molded into the cushion. One of his arms is thrown over the backrest as the other is holding a can of beer he’s not really drinking from. Jaehyun isn’t there with him for some reason, probably whipping something up in the kitchen even though he can't cook to save his life.
And when you turn around to face him fully, there’s a beat where his eyes move over you, all the way from the very top of your head to the bottom of your feet. You swear his eyes linger for a second too long on your chest before he drops them down and lets his mind register you properly.
“Going somewhere?” He asks, one brow raised as he spreads his legs even further.
You nod once, pretending to be mindless and nonchalant about it. “Just for drinks with some friends.” Technically, you’re going out with a friend. But before you can even think of elaborating on that further, Jaehyun walks in. And that’s all it takes for Jungkook to look away like it doesn’t mean anything.
“Finally.” He scoffs before taking a large sip from his beer. “You take longer than anyone I know to get ready.”
It takes half a minute of consecutive swift blinking for you to drag your attention away from Jungkook and pull yourself back together. “Relax.” You mutter when you’ve recollected your senses, rolling your eyes. “You’re not even coming with me.”
“As if I’d want to.” He responds immediately. “I don’t want to deal with your friends.”
“Hey!” You exclaim, pulling your browns together. “You like my friends.”
“When they’re sober and quiet.” He corrects.
You huff out a laugh, stepping further into the room, grabbing your purse from the table. “Liar.”
“I never lie.” Jaehyun responds, making his way over to the couch before dropping himself down next to Jungkook. You shake your head with a light scoff, barely listening anymore, because Jungkook’s gaze is fixed on you once again and you don’t know if you can continue holding up this stupid act of nonchalance if he doesn’t tear his eyes away from you soon enough.
“Text me when you get there.” Jaehyun reminds you for the third time today, and you nod along halfheartedly, checking your purse one last time for good measure.
“Yeah, okay. Promise.”
“You better.” He mutters.
You sling your bag over your shoulder, turning slightly just to sneak one last look at the man who’s managed to get your pussy tingling with so much as one look and two careless words. But when your gaze finds him and you realize he’s still looking at you, you think that maybe, he isn’t as untouchable as he makes it out to be.
He shifts under your presence, like your eyes weren’t something he expected to land a certain way yet did anyway, setting his drink down on the table as you move past him. The motion brings you close just enough, and his hand brushes against yours in passing. It’s light and fleeting, the kind of contact that normally would be dismissed in seconds. But you feel it all too clearly, so much that even after he pulls away, his fingertips linger on your skin in a way that burns until it leaves a permanent trace.
Because he doesn’t pull away immediately, not fast enough like he usually does. There’s a fraction of a second where his fingers stay there before he retracts like he remembered it a little too late.
And when you finally leave, Jungkook finds himself drowned inside the drunken haze of your sweet scent and the warmth of your presence– so strong that he physically feels the way it’s begging for him to follow.
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
The place Jaemin picked is one of those upscale cocktail bars where the wine is just so mediocre you’re forced to order overpriced cocktails instead. The lighting is warm and dim, because it always is in places like this– casting everything in a golden glow so that the glint makes it easier to ignore what doesn’t quite live up to the price tag. It’s busy just the way you like, filled with enough people to feel alive without being crowded.
Jaemin is already there by the time you reach the table that's reserved for you, leaning back into his seat like the air around him bends so intently that the place belongs to him. His legs are spread just a little wider than what’s acceptable, and the drink in his hand swings lazily from side to side like it’s been there for long with the sole purpose of giving him something to fidget with.
He smirks immediately when you walk in. “There she is.” He sings, dragging his gaze over you before continuing. “You look…happy.” He says, cocking a brow like he’s questioning his own choice of words.
You slide into the seat across from him, setting your bag onto the one next to you. “When am I not happy?”
“This is like, when your hot friend from statistics called me cute, kind of happy.”
You scoff, reaching for the menu before letting your eyes scan through the list of beverages. “You threw a chair and got banned from the cafe you took her to.”
Jaemin rolls his eyes. “I moved a chair.”
“You threw it and it hit someone’s leg.”
He pauses. “Not the point.”
You giggle, placing the menu back onto the table. “Exactly the point, she got back together with her ex two days after your date.”
He watches you for a second, then shakes his head. “God, you’re exhausting.”
“And,” You start, dragging the word. “You still text me every day.”
“What can I say, you’re a part of my routine.” Jaemin winks at you before turning his head to call over a waiter. When he comes by, you order a cocktail too pink to be taken seriously, and Jaemin asks for a kind of whiskey you’re sure tastes even worse than its name. Because no one really enjoys whiskey, it’s just for show. A whole performance created by men trying to match up to their fragile egos. Not that you're saying Jaemin fits the profile.
He leans forward when the waiter walks away. “Alright.” He says. “What did you do?”
You tilt your head, pretending to think. “I didn’t exactly do something.”
He gives you an unimpressed look. “And you expect me to believe that?”
“Yes!” You exclaim. “I really didn’t do anything. He just…slipped.”
“Who?” He pulls his brows together. “Don’t tell me this is about Jungkook again.”
You lean back into your seat, unable to help the mischievous smile spreading across your face. Jaemin groans when it clicks, realizing exactly what you’re talking about. “No he didn’t.” He says matter of factly.
You met Jaemin your freshman year of high school, and you slipped in each other’s spaces so easily you don’t even remember how. Just that by the time it mattered, he was already there. In your messages at ungodly hours, in the best parts of your worst days, in the middle of things he had no reason to involve himself in but did anyway.
And at some point, without either of you really saying it out loud, you built something strong enough to stay and fight for.
So naturally, Jaemin knows Jungkook. How he moves, how he talks, how careful he is without making it obvious— only when it comes to you. He knows the version of him that exists around your brother; easy, controlled, and distant just enough to never cause any problems.
So when you say that Jungkook slipped, he knows exactly what you mean, even though he would never grant you the pleasure of being right. But most importantly, he knows that if you're bringing it up like this, something has actually shifted.
“He did.” You say without an ounce of hesitation. “He looked at me like he…forgot everything. Like there was a feeling he’d been suppressing and he forgot why for a second." You pause, sipping your drink. "And!" You exclaim like you forgot to add something so crucial. "His hand brushed mine and he didn't pull away." You argue.
Jaemin sinks deeper into his seat. “Can we please move on from that man? Jungkook doesn’t slip, that’s literally his thing. I can set you up with Mark, if you want. Saw his dick once in the lockers and let me tell you, he’s huge.”
Your lips pull into a pout. “I don’t want Mark, I want Jungkook.”
Jaemin exhales through his nose before taking a large gulp from his drink. “Let’s say you’re right, Jaehyun would fucking kill you.”
You shrug, mindlessly tracing your nail along the rim of your glass. “We’ll figure that out, I just wanna see how far it goes. What it takes for him to lose control."
“You’ve liked him way too long for this to end well.”
You scoff. “I do not like him.”
Jaemin deadpans. “You used to sit on the stairs just to watch him and your brother play video games.”
“That's because I wanted to hop on his bones.” You argue.
He lifts a brow accusingly. “When you were fifteen?”
You pause for a second, tongue poking the inside of your cheek as you watch over your friend. “Fuck you.” You mutter under your breath.
You breathe again before leaning forward slightly, lowering your voice just enough. “You’ve seen him, Jaemin. He’s always so– so put together. Like nothing touches and sticks to him enough.”
“Yeah.” Jaemin nods. “Because he’s not stupid.”
The corner of your mouth twitches. “And it’s my duty to fuck up his morals.”
He exhales sharply, shaking his head. “You’re gonna drag me into this, aren’t you?”
“You’re already in it." You smile at him innocently, bating your eyelashes. “You’re gonna sit next to me and look pretty."
“Wow, the way you love me.”
You wink at him, sipping your drink and letting the bitter taste of alcohol burn in your mouth. "Always."
“God,” He mutters. “You’re gonna fuck this up.”
Your lips twitch. “I’ll snap you a pic when he spreads his legs for me.”
“Please don’t.”
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
The opportunity presents itself on a silver platter.
You’d be stupid to not take it. Not when you’ve gotten him somewhere hot, wet and messy without even meaning to, as if the universe already knows exactly what you’re about to do with it.
You're stretched out on one of the chez-longs by the pool, body wrapped in the tiniest set of white bikinis in your wardrobe. That was definitely a lucky guess— a hot one to say the least. You're laying on your stomach with a book resting open in your hands with the sole purpose of being there, because you've read no more than two or five pages during the whole hour you spent here.
You had set the day aside and spared it for yourself— silenced your phone, shut everyone out, forced your mind into a kind of quiet that had no way out unless you tried hard enough. You had cleared everything until there was nothing to think about, nothing pulling at you from somewhere with something you didn't choose.
But it doesn't last.
The sliding door cuts through the quiet when you expect it the least, and when it opens, it brings Jaehyun with it. He walks in a way that's loud, careless, and already mid conversation with a couple of his friends trailing behind him.
And Jungkook too, of course.
You lower your book, push yourself onto your elbows, and then lift your sunglasses up into your hair. The exasperated breath you huff out goes unnoticed by both your brother, and his ridiculously loud friends as their voices swallow it up without wasting a second.
"Wow," You mutter, tilting your head to take a look at them. "Great."
Jaehyun spots you immediately. “Oh, you’re here.”
You scrunch your face a little, blinking up at him, shielding your face from the sun with a help of your hand even though it doesn't exactly work wonders. “I live here.”
“Right.” He says mindlessly. “Didn’t think you’d be outside.”
You scoff. “Clearly.”
After your exchange, Jaehyun walks over the lounge chairs across from you, tossing his towel onto one of them like there isn't enough for everyone and they're something to call dibs on. When in reality, they aren't. One of his friends, one you only vaguely recognize, blows out a low whistle as he walks by.
"Damn," He says, not even trying to be subtle about it. "Didn't know he had a sister like that."
Luckily, Jaehyun doesn't hear it, too busy arguing with Mingyu about sunscreen brands like either of them know what they're talking about.
But Jungkook does.
His head turns— maybe not immediately, maybe you're giving yourself too much credit and your imagination has started playing games on you— but you swear it does. His eyes narrow at his friend for a second too long before landing on you. And this time, you're sure there's something there. You're sure that if you were exaggerating and reading too much into every small detail last week, you aren't now.
His eyes linger on you as the oil you had put on catches the sunlight in a way that's impossible to ignore. The soft sheen traces every line and every curve of your body, shifting with movement until it reflects straight into his eyes.
Jungkook really doesn't mean to look. But the way the light hits your body— which he swears is literally the epitome of beauty— pulls in his attention without asking for permission. Suddenly, he's seeing too much and the tent in his shorts is growing and growing until the fabric tightens around his length and he can't bear doing nothing about it.
Though what really gets him isn't only how good you look— because that has always been a problem. It's how you exist in it so easily, so comfortable in the artwork dressed as your body. As his gaze dances over you, his head keeps spinning and spinning and suddenly, words he can never say out loud build at the tip of his tongue.
You're a fucking temptation.
You’re in the middle of flipping a page you haven’t been reading when his voice cuts in. “Didn’t know you’d be here.”
You glance up again. “And I didn’t know you were coming over.”
He shrugs. “Jaehyun asked.”
You nod slowly, pursing your lips. “I figured.”
There’s a beat filled with silence, one that stretches a little too long, one that leads you to realize he won’t be the first one to break it. So you turn over and sit up fully, setting your book aside. “Are you gonna get in or keep standing there?” You ask lightly.
But it takes him longer than a minute to hear the question. Because as you sit up and your front faces him, Jungkook feels the air knocking out of his lungs.
Your tits.
They sit so round and perky under the thin fabric of your bikini top. The white colour extenuates the soft swell of your boobs perfectly and Jungkook can't help but wonder what else would paint them white like this. As if things couldn't get worse for him, your tits bounce slightly when you move, and Jungkook fucking loses it.
He huffs a quiet breath in hopes of masking the ethical dilemma he's got going on inside. “Don’t really feel like it.”
You hum softly, dragging your gaze over him. “Well,” You start. “That’s too bad.”
His brows pull together. “Why?”
You give him a calculated smile, letting the moment sink in before answering. “You’d be fun to watch.”
You see the way your words land immediately– that almost-reaction he covers before it reaches too far. “Yeah?” He says, voice lower now, unable to help himself. “You watch everyone like that?”
You shrug. “Only the ones nice to look at.”
He huffs out a soft scoff under his breath before reaching for the hem of his shirt, then pulls it off in one swift motion. You try to keep your expression neutral. And you swear, you really do. But when he looks like that, it’s impossible.
Because Jungkook looks ridiculous like this, chest toned and bare and so fucking hot. He looks like someone who jumped out of your dirtiest fantasies and landed straight in your aching pussy. Your muscles grow sore despite having laid down all morning and you have to physically stop yourself from drooling and licking along the lines framing his abs.
At the end of the day, you're just a girl who knows what she likes. Sue you.
You exhale softly through your nose, shaking your head mindlessly like it doesn’t matter, like you don’t want to jump and bounce on him until his shape is permanently engraved in you. “Real subtle.”
He glances at you, cocking a brow. “You asked.”
You tilt your head. “I wouldn’t say asked is the correct word.”
“You’re welcome anyway.” He says, tossing his shirt beside you.
You laugh, pushing yourself up from the sunbed. “You’re so annoying.” So annoyingly hot.
When you’re finally standing, he’s so close you don’t hear whatever bullshit Jaehyun yells from the pool. Shut up, brother. Your girl is standing on business.
You step forward towards the edge of the pool when the lack of distance starts feeling like you want to drop down to your knees and take him into your mouth until he's whining and crying. Because it's one thing to be aware of his presence, but a whole another thing to feel the warmth of him sizzling through your bones.
You crouch down, dragging your hand along the water. "You getting in?" You ask, glancing up at him.
Jungkook lets out a breathy chuckle, gives you one final look, and before you know it, he's jumping straight into the pool. Water rises fast the moment his body drops in, splashing and hitting your skin in cool droplets.
Jungkook shakes his head, dragging a hand over his face. "Happy?" He asks, looking at you behind wet curls as he brushes them away from his face.
Oh the sight he is.
You tilt your head, looking down at him as you narrow your eyes teasingly. “A little.”
Before you can move, his hand catches your wrist and pulls you forward. You lose your balance and a sharp splash cuts through your body, skin burning with the unexpected hit. And suddenly, all you can feel is the cold chill of water rushing up your spine mixed with the warmth of his body.
Shit.
When you open your eyes, you realize you're fully pressed against him. Your arms instinctively wrap around his shoulders and your legs around his waist before you have the chance to realize what's happening.
For a second, it's like the earth stops rotating— like it forgets to revolve around the sun and time forgets to move along with it. The water ripples slowly until it calms down, the noise around you fading into something so distant and irrelevant. Because right now, all you can feel is him. The way his broad chest sits solid against your soft boobs and the warm touch of him on your skin that's suddenly everywhere.
Jungkook goes completely still the exact way you do, like he didn't expect this either yet can't bring himself to do anything rational about it. The rush keeps you away from registering his hold around your thighs until he shifts slightly, securing your place in his arms.
Your faces are so close that his breath is hitting your skin in that warm, intimate kind of way you don’t share with just anyone. But the intimacy slips over your head just like that and all you can focus on is the way his hardened length presses against you beneath the water.
“Fuck.” It slips under his breath, barely audible even for you considering the lack of distance between you and him. But of course, you hear it. You'd be a fool to miss a slip like that, because you'd notice that kind of desperation from a mile away
He pulls back abruptly, like the warmth becomes too much and suffocates him all at once, so much that he can't feel oxygen reaching his lungs anymore. Distance folds itself into something necessary for him to function properly again, and just like that, your arms slip away and your legs drop back into the water.
Then you give him a smile, teasing and knowing, like this was all you needed to have him all bare and figured out in the middle of your palm. "This is new." You murmur. "You're getting reckless."
His jaw tightens. “I’m not.”
“You just pulled me into the pool.” You say, crossing your arms over your chest.
“You were standing too close.”
You laugh softly. “That’s your excuse?”
“It’s the truth.”
You tilt your head to study him with a little more care. The way he's been holding onto the tension between you like his life depends on it just so that it doesn't crack, the way restraint sits so uncomfortably on his face even though he has no choice but to keep it together a little longer— it's all a bit more clear now.
"Right." You say lightly, then turn away like nothing about what just happened is worth digging further. But on the inside, you're already thinking about the phone call you'll have with Jaemin. Because you were right from the start, that wasn't nothing, not even close.
You just got what you wanted.
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
Jaehyun absolutely loves Jaemin. He just won't ever say it like that.
It shows in other ways— been there since the day you came home all giddy and giggly, talking too fast about the first ever friend you made in high school, barely able to get his name out properly out of excitement. Jaehyun remembers it anyway. He remembers the day you said Jaemin like it already meant something, like the way the letters rolled out of your tongue was enough to know he was going to stay.
He didn't question it then, he doesn't question it now.
So when Jaemin shows up unannounced at your door and lets himself in without asking, Jaehyun doesn't tell him to leave. He complains with a roll of his eyes, but offers him a can of beer anyway. Because accommodating an uninvited Jaemin has become a given way too long ago.
Jaemin exists in the space the same way Jungkook does, even though he slipped into it a few years later, like they both carved out a place for themselves in the dearest corners of your lives and never really left.
The difference is, Jaemin doesn't really have to keep his distance.
After inviting himself inside, he stretches across your couch, fetches the drink straight out of Jaehyun's hand before your brother gets to offer it properly, then reaches for you absentmindedly the way he always does.
Jaehyun notices it sometimes, just enough to be bothered by it. He isn't exactly a fan of seeing a man touch you like that, even if it's Jaemin. He rolls his eyes, tells him to stop being annoying, but Jaemin just nods along with that loose, careless grin; pulling you closer regardless.
You lean into him just enough to make things worse for your brother, your shoulder pressing into his chest as you reach past him for the small bowl of nuts Jaehyun was about to hand you, until Jaemin beats you to it.
"Can you not steal everything that's mine?" Jaehyun mutters. Already huffing, already annoyed.
Jaemin doesn't even look at him, stuffing his mouth with a handful of peanuts. "Relax. You were literally handing it out."
Jaehyun deadpans. "Well, not to you."
You laugh, grabbing a few of the almonds. "You're both insufferable."
"You're one to talk." Jaehyun shoots back immediately. "You encourage him."
"I don't encourage him." You argue, but the lack of distance between you and your friend is still questionable.
Jaemin glances down at you, eyes grazing over your bare legs draped across his lap before lifting a brow. "You definitely do."
You tilt your head, meeting his gaze with narrowed eyes. "You're very impressionable, that's not my fault."
"I'm not impressionable."
"You walked in uninvited and stole a drink in under thirty seconds."
"Eh," He squints his eyes, pretending to think. "You offered it though."
"So you wouldn't have gone ahead and taken one if he didn't?" You ask, cocking a brow.
Jaehyun points at him in victory, ecstatic at the newfound support from you. "Exactly."
Jaemin ignores him completely and turns to you, his arm still draped over your shoulders. "You weren't complaining five minutes ago."
"Suddenly I'm feeling a little wiser."
Jaemin rolls his eyes. "No, you're not."
You pause mid sip like you're considering putting up a fight, but you change your mind as you gulp down the drink, dropping your shoulders. "Fine, I'm not."
Jaehyun exhales sharply, dragging a hand along his face like he's already exhausted. "See, this is exactly what I mean. You two are unbearable together."
"You're the one who keeps letting him in." You say lightly.
"I don't let him in." He argues. "He just shows up."
"You'd shut the door in my face if you wanted to." Jaemin says.
"You'd climb in through the window."
Jaemin nods with a serious look on his face, like what he's agreeing to is a reasonable solution. "Yeah, I would."
You're still laughing when the bell rings, and Jaehyun mutters a quiet finally under his breath as he pushes himself up from the couch. Jungkook and Mingyu walk in one behind the other, Jaehyun holding the door open by the corner.
"Took you long enough." He complains, unimpressed.
Mingyu scoffs lightly. "We're not late."
"You always are. I'm the only one with a sense of urgency here."
Mingyu doesn't argue further, he heads straight for the kitchen instead. As he's busy opening and closing cabinets one by one like he owns like place, Jungkook lingers a little longer at the entrance before following Jaehyun inside.
He looks good, he looks so fucking good it takes everything in you to not spread your legs right then and there. So you lean more into Jaemin, letting your skirt ride up with the movement. Because you'll get this man in your bed one way or the other and right now, there's nothing you can do besides rile him up a little and pray your brother doesn't notice.
He does.
Jaehyun's eyes flick between the two of you before he looks away again, jaw clenching just slightly. "Can you sit normally for once?"
But you don't move. You can't move when Jungkook's already looking at you like he's trying so hard not to slip. Not again. "Are we not sitting normally?" You ask, glancing down at yourself, pretending to be confused.
"No." He says flatly.
Jaemin shifts just enough to make it worse, his arm tightening around you even though it's completely unnecessary. "Feels pretty normal to me."
"That's because you're the problem."
You hum softly, clearly entertained now. "I think you're overreacting."
Jaemin nudges you with his elbow. "He's jealous."
"I'm not jealous of you."
"Wow." Jaemin says as he brings a hand to his chest, pretending to be offended. "That hurt."
Mingyu laughs from the kitchen, leaning against the counter with his drink in hand. "He's definitely jealous."
“I’m not jealous.” Jaehyun repeats, louder this time.
Mingyu shrugs as he drops onto the singular couch beside him. “Sounds like it.”
You laugh again, and it still sounds light and careless. But it doesn't really feel like it. Not when you can feel Jungkook's eyes digging holes into your exposed skin, like he's trying to do with his eyes what he can't with anything else. Because neither one of his fists have the privilege of breaking Jaemin's jaw right now.
He's not even trying to hide it now. Maybe because something bigger already slipped last week and there is no point in trying to recollect it back together, or maybe because Jaehyun has fallen into another pointless argument with Mingyu and a small glace or two won't hurt anybody. Doesn't really matter when he keeps giving you exactly what you're looking for.
Regardless, you're adamant on not giving in. You're a girl on a mission and you're going to compromise it for nothing.
So you shift closer, letting your hand slide further along Jaemin's arm before curling your fingers around his bicep like there's no other place you'd rather it be. Like this is nothing new, nothing worth paying attention to.
But it is.
Jungkook's eyes drop down to your legs— bare and unapologetic on Jaemin's lap. He lets them linger on the poor excuse of a skirt that's sitting uselessly on your hips, and then trails lines along your exposed legs all the way to the tip of your feet.
You don't have to look up to know he's watching, but you do anyway, just to see the way he's starting to break. Because this time, there's nothing careful about the way he's looking at you. The control is still there, but he's holding onto it for his dear life— barely.
The conversation around you keeps moving in a way that's constant and habitual— Jaehyun complaining, Mingyu laughing, Jaemin saying something in your ear you don't fully catch…Everything is safe and practiced.
Besides him.
Jeon Jungkook is not safe. God, he’s terrifying. Terrifyingly sexy and thoroughly unsafe.
You reach for your drink, take a slow sip, then set it back down like you've suddenly lost all interest and nothing is as entertaining anymore. "I'll be back." You say, pushing yourself up from the couch before anyone can question you about it.
"Don't disappear." Jaehyun mutters mid-conversation, barely glancing at you.
You hum something about him asking too for many things at once before turning away, making your way out of the living room fast so that no one has the chance to hold you there longer.
You take your sweet time walking down the hallway, hips swaying from side to side just in case a certain someone decides to follow behind. But you know he will, so you don't look back. Luckily, life smiles at you for another day and the sound of a second set of footsteps reaches you in no time.
The corner of your mouth lifts in satisfaction as you reach the bathroom door, letting your hand linger on the handle for half a second too long before pushing it open, like you're giving him time to catch up.
You don't bother closing the door, leaving it open as Jungkook steps in a beat or two after you, not forgetting to lock it after him.
"Stop it." He mutters finally, voice low and rough like he doesn't fully trust it to come out louder without giving something away.
Too bad he already has.
You tilt your head, looking up at him like you don't quite understand what he's talking about, lashes fluttering innocently even though you're far from it. "Stop what?"
When your gazes meet, it's like his eyes are whispering to you, telling you to come closer and let yourself melt into his touch until your breath is completely blown away. But instead of doing anything about it, instead of tugging you closer into him and ending this stupid game that has left both of you aching and soaring; he drags a hand down his face and does everything in his power to pull himself back into the control he had once mastered.
"You know what." He says, exhaling sharply through his nose.
You take a step closer, fed up with the distance he's forced you into. "I wanna hear you say it."
His jaw tightens as he looks at you, trying to figure out how far you're willing to take it. "You've been pushing this all night."
"Well then, let me remind you." You murmur, stepping even closer, until there's barely any space left between the two of you. "You followed me." You say, placing your index finger on his chest.
Your words land a certain way, you watch his reaction all the way through its birth and death. In the way his breath stutters audibly, in the way his eyes flick briefly down to your lips, in the way something between light and lust flashes across his features before he can lock it back down again.
He scoffs as his eyes drift away from yours. "You're out of your mind."
You shrug mindlessly, like nothing about this is as serious as he makes it out to be. "I've been told once. Or twice." You give him a smile, light and flirty.
He drops down his hand, then snaps his head towards you like he suddenly remembered something. "Do you think this is funny?" He asks,
You let your gaze drag over him slowly, completely unapologetic, taking your time with it before meeting his eyes.
"I think it's hot."
And you're met with silence. Oh, Jeon Jungkook, the fucking pussy you are.
That does it, you see it the second it lands, the second that suppressed urge in him slips past the point of recovery. It's still there— but thinner, frying, barely holding on. Like it's waiting for someone to cross the line first and it sure as hell won't be him.
So you do.
You close the space completely this time, your hand finding him again until it settles on his shirt and fists the fabric enough to pull him in. You're not testing the waters, not anymore. Everything is visible no matter how hard he's trying to pull it through and you're not going to let him slip past your fingertips when you've gotten him like this.
Jungkook inhales sharply, quick and uneven, like air catches in the middle of his chest before he can do anything about it. His hand moves instinctively, and just as you think he's going to push your hand away, he settles his hold on your waist.
He calls your name, voice dropping in a way that's raw and desperate. His body goes rigid as his brain tries being reasonable one last time, but he fails terribly, miserably.
Your hands trail along his chest, traveling down until you decide to let them settle on his waist. Your hands don't rush him, they move like you've already decided how this ends on his part. Your fingers slip just past the waistband of his jeans, but still not fully, tugging with his belt.
"Fuck." He mutters under his breath as your hips hit his roughly, head falling back beyond his control.
Jungkook just stands there and takes it, lets it happen, lets you happen.
That's what gives him away. He doesn't grab your wrists, doesn't step back, doesn't do anything he should be doing. So with the newfound confidence, you sink down to your knees, slow enough that each passing second aches and tortures and stings his skin until it burns and leaves your trace.
He freezes.
His body hasn't caught up to what's happening yet, even though you're taking your sweet time to make sure every second of your touch registers to the point where it's lingering and all he sees and feels is you when he closes his eyes.
No matter how bad you're trying to let him keep up, he feels as though his brain has stopped working long ago and parked itself outside of the constellation named his fucking morals.
"You still there, Jungkook?" You ask looking up at him, voice low and sultry, bating your eyelashes with feigned innocence. As if you aren't his best friend's little sister who's about to suck the life out of him.
He's barely able to get out a reply and you're already pulling his jeans down. You fiddle with the waistband of his boxers, then move along to palm him over the fabric. Jungkook sucks in a sharp breath, hands finding their way to your hair like he's trying to ground himself.
You give a squeeze to his base, hard and thick just like you expected. You're sure whatever he's hiding inside is even better than your imagination, but there's still a minute or two before you can figure that out.
"Ah, fuck, yes—" Jungkook breathes, almost stuttering, completely lost in a daze. "Keep going." He says as his hold tightens in your hair, locks tangling between his fingertips as he tries steadying himself. You slowly drag your hand over to his tip, flicking your index finger somewhere over his slit before moving it back down. You're about to pull down his boxers and then—
A knock.
Jaehyun calls out your name from the other side of the door, and the sound reaches your ears in an instant, forcing you out of whatever fantasy you've lost yourselves in. It's so sudden that Jungkook jerks, his hold on you slipping away as panic flashes across his features. But you? You don't even move.
"Give me a second!" You call back with a voice so impressively steady even Jungkook believes you're alone for a second.
Jungkook exhales like he's just been dropped back into a body he hasn't been in for years, fists closing and opening by his sides like he doesn't know what to do with his hands anymore. But what gets him— what gets him the most is how calm and unbothered you look, like you didn't just bury his body and bring it back to life in under a minute.
Jaehyun calls your name again. "Be quick, seriously."
But you're still not rushing, still not scrambling. Hell, you're not even shifting the way anyone else would in this situation— enter Jungkook. You just tilt your head slightly as you slowly rise back up to your feel, like you're mildly inconvenienced at best.
"I said give me a second!" You reply, and Jungkook watches over you like you're insane. Because you don't look panicked, you don't look caught, you don't look half he's feeling right now.
You look…fine.
He doesn't like that.
Right when Jungkook was considering running the bath and drowning himself in boiling water, another door opens.
"You can use this one." Jaemin says casually, thoroughly aware of whatever stunt you're pulling unlike your brother. Jaehyun mutters something under his breath, a few curse words and complaints about how annoying you are, but he's already moving.
It's silent again when the door locks shut, and Jungkook exhales like he has been holding the entire universe in his lungs. "Jesus—" He runs a hand down his face, shaking his head like he's trying to rid himself of everything but it doesn't work. "What the fuck was that?"
You melt into every second in a whole minute, smoothing your skirt down, fixing your lipstick, running a hand along your hair like those are the only things that need a fixing and nothing about this requires any urgency.
You look at him, completely calm. "What?" You ask lightly, not even making an effort to look at him, glancing at his face from its reflection through the mirror.
His jaw tightens. "You have no idea what game you're playing and it's a problem."
You finally turn to look at him, then glance down to his crotch before lifting your eyes back up, the corners of your mouth lifting. "I think you've got a bigger problem going on." You say, then walk through the door just like that.
Just like that.
Jungkook is losing his fucking mind.
He hates you, he hates you so goddamn much right now. He hated you that day by the pool when you were in that stupid little bikini, hated you when you had your perfect legs over some boy's lap— God, he really is just some boy. What the fuck is a Jaemin? He swears he's so much hotter and bigger and sexier but he can't even try and make himself feel better now that his pants are tightening and his cock is aching.
He knows he's got a bigger problem going on, he didn't need you to say it, he doesn't want to hear you say anything at this point. Because it seems as though he has the self restraint of a fucking rabbit and his dick gets hard with so much as your breathing.
Jungkook is the boy here. He knows he is. There is nothing left for him to do besides hoping you don't. But god, he's desperate. He can't help but think about the what ifs. What if Jaehyun didn't knock, what if you actually pulled down his boxers and took him in your sweet little mouth. He'd give anything right now. Anything to see your mouth full with his cock, stuffed to the brim. He'd do anything for you to fold beneath him and do as he says, he'd bend you over this stupid counter and take you right fucking here. He'd fuck you so good you'd never be able to walk properly again. He'd put you in your place and shut that sweet mouth of yours forever.
But he can't. He knows he can't. So he does the second most stupid he can do today— the first being letting you take him in your mouth. He pulls his jeans back down after making sure the door is locked again, then frees his cock out of the fabric that has been suffocating him since the moment he laid his eyes on you today.
He starts stroking himself after spreading the precum over his tip, then lets his hand run down his aching length. He's so horny it's stupid. He can't believe a girl he has known since he was nine has gotten his dick rock hard with so much as a few reckless words and light, taunting touches. But who the fuck is he kidding? This isn't the first time he's thought about you like this, not the first time he's caught himself a way the shouldn't have.
He's just been better at hiding it before.
He had always been the version of himself that knows where the line is and doesn't even think about crossing it. Because for the longest time, you had a single purpose, a single title in his life— Jaehyun's little sister. A kid who used to hover around the edges of everything she had no part in, who'd sit too close and talk too much even when she didn't have to. There was never a reason to think about it longer than necessary.
Until you made it impossible to ignore.
It didn't happen all at once, not in a way he could point to and say this is where it changed. It just…happened. You stopped asking to be included, stopped looking at him like he was someone above and untouchable. You built your own life, your own circle, yourself.
And somewhere in the middle of all of that, he started noticing things. The way you carried yourself differently, the way your voice grew into something low and sultry, the way you started looking at people with eyes that knew exactly what you were doing, thoroughly aware of the effect you had.
So as he keeps dragging a hand along his length, he thinks about every time you'd bent over in front of him with a skirt way too short to be acceptable, every time you'd given him those eyes while asking for things as simple as a glass of water, every time you'd call a man late at night thinking your voice couldn't be heard when he'd lose hours of sleep over it— he thinks about it all.
He cums with a breathy trail of moans and your name on his tongue, body shaking with the intensity of his orgasm. And as he struggles to find the line between his imagination and the reality, he realizes that the worst part about what he has done today isn't Jaehyun or the post nut clarity.
It's that he wants more.
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
The club is brazen without trying to be subtle about it. It's the kind of atmosphere that doesn't prepare you for the worst before settling deep into your skin, right in the middle of something you can't erase no matter how hard you try scrubbing it off, because the agitation is just that heavy. The lights hang low, glowing in a distant hue that's maybe a little too deliberate for a club like this. The air is thick and full without being suffocating, but it's lived in. Like it's been used over and over again and simply refuses to empty out, carrying the remnants of conversations, the cluttered echo of laughter, and things that are said too loud yet meant too lightly.
You're not sure if it was the best pick for a birthday night out, but who are you to say anything— you wouldn't be here without Jaehyun anyway. Not that you want to leave, but the party doesn't matter all that much either. Although you do like Haneul— one of Jaehyun's college friends who also became yours overtime— she's sweet in a way that's safe and makes it easy to forget she's the center of attention tonight.
The music is starting to feel too loud and it feels as if the club is getting smaller and smaller as time goes on, but it's still a little early to leave, at least by yourself. Because leaving alone would mean you aren't enjoying yourself and staying long enough keeps everything in place, keeps you exactly where you need to be without drawing attention to the fact that your mind has been completely elsewhere for the entirety of the night.
Jungkook has been avoiding you. Definitely, irreproachably, unmistakeably.
You've been in this club for three hours now, with your body pressed against the crowd in a way that doesn't allow distance to exist, caught between people who move like proximity is a choice rather than an inconvenience, and still— Jungkook hasn't looked at you properly. Not even once.
Jaehyun finds you sometime around the final minutes of your fourth hour here, fully drunk now as if he hasn't been halfway gone for the majority of his time here. His words are looser, his voice is louder, and his arm is slinging around your shoulder like everything about his balance depends on you.
"There you are." He sings, stretching the words sloppily. "I'm done."
You laugh, head tipping back in his arms. "You've been done for like, what? An hour now?" You tell him, steadying the drink in his hand before it spills.
"I mean it this time." He leans into you, then immediately leans away like something far more interesting suddenly caught his attention. "I'm leaving— or, no. I'm staying. I don't know."
"That sounds about right."
He exhales dramatically, then glances over your shoulder until he spots what he was looking for. "Jungkook!" He shouts over the music.
Jungkook turns his head slightly before fully facing your brother, then moves towards you like rejecting was never really an option.
"Can you take her home?" Jaehyun asks, placing a hand on the small of your back. But it doesn't sound like a question, it sounds like a decision that's already been made before it even reached Jungkook.
"You are." Jaehyun cuts him off, waving it away like the argument doesn't exist, doesn't matter. "I'll stay a bit longer, or all night, just— make sure she gets home safe, please."
Your eyes wander away to Jungkook, because watching him is far more interesting than dealing with your drunk brother. There's a pause before he exhales through his nose, a beat that's enough to feel like he's weighing something in his head, like there is a version of this he so badly wants to refuse but knows he can't— knows he won't.
"Fine." He says finally, not exactly willing.
Jaehyun grins, satisfied with the outcome even though he won't remember achieving it by the time he wakes up. He disappears into the crowd after patting Jungkook on the shoulder, leaving the two of you standing in a space that suddenly feels quiet despite being the complete opposite.
Jungkook walks alongside you in silence as you make your way out of the club, his pace controlled and calculated like that's the only thing he's concentrating on right now. The music gets swallowed up by a wave of soft wind and the distant hum of the city when you step outside, fading slowly as you get further and further away from the club.
You glance at him as you walk, trailing your eyes along the sharp line of his jaw beneath the warm glow of the streetlights. He's dressed too nicely for the bike waiting at the curb, painted in dark clothes and silver rings along with the kind of face that makes people stop and turn their heads twice without even realizing they're doing it. For a short second, you wonder if he knows how unfair he looks tonight. But jokes on you, he probably does.
Because Jeon Jungkook is one cocky bastard, even though he doesn't show it a lot.
"You could've said no, you know." You say lightly when you reach the bike. "If it's impossible for you to be alone with me without glaring like you want me dead."
Jungkook exhales through his nose, pulling the spare helmet from the handle and holding it out to you before responding eventually. "I would've said no if i wanted to."
You look down to the helmet, crossing your arms on your chest."You can act a little less miserable, then."
His jaw tightens slightly at that, like he's annoyed with both you and himself. "Put the helmet on." He says, ignoring your claim.
You roll your eyes, but take it from him anyway, not forgetting to let your fingers brush against his on purpose. He shifts under your touch, shoulders tensing beneath his jacket. You're sure he notices the way you're doing it on purpose too, but prefers not to comment on it. Not yet, at least.
"You're quiet tonight." You say, slipping the helmet on.
"You talk enough for the both of us."
"That's not true. You talk plenty when you're…engaged." You say slowly, dragging your gaze over him before settling them back on his face. Jungkook looks at you properly for the first time tonight, and he makes sure to look at you with purpose. Enough to let you know he's still thinking about it too.
The bathroom, everything you did that day, everything he did after you left. Not a single second of it has left his mind ever since.
"Get on the bike." He says, tongue poking the inside of cheek before he speaks.
You do, but you do it so slowly Jungkook thinks he wants to dig his grave right then and there. You place your hands on his shoulders before sliding them over his chest as you move behind him, taking your time in a way that feels cruel. By the time you finally sit, there's barely any space between your bodes. Your knees press against his thighs, your arms wrap around his waist, and your chest leans onto his back.
"You know," You murmur near his ear, and it takes so much in him to not go still at the lingering heat of your breath. "For someone who keeps telling me to stop, you never actually do anything."
His grip tightens around the handles. "You don't listen."
"Maybe i'd listen if you were better at hiding how much you like it."
You feel how his body stiffens immediately as he inhales sharply before starting the engine. "Hold properly." He says, completely dismissing your words.
When the bike finally pulls away from the curb, you settle against him even closer than before, letting your body melt into the warmth of his. You smile to yourself beneath the helmet, because this time, you know exactly how tonight is going to end.
Your hands wander all over him throughout the entirety of the ride, tracing lines starting from his chest all the way down to his thighs. Jungkook has no idea how the hell he's survived when he rolls the bike into your garage, but he definitely knows the tension between you has turned into something so physical he feels like he's going to burst.
Neither of you can move when the engine cuts off, because the air is still vibrating from the ride. Because your body stayed pressed against his the entire way home like you were trying to test how much restraint one could realistically have before it gave out completely.
And judging by how Jungkook is handling it all— not much.
"You should go inside." He says eventually, back still turned to you.
You slowly let go of his waist, leaning back slightly as you take off your helmet. "I don't really want to."
Jungkook lets out a breath through his nose, then hops off the bike as he takes the helmet from your hand and places it back on the handle alongside his own. When he's back on the bike, he's facing you, legs placed on both sides of the vehicle.
He calls your name, but it sounds completely ruined in his mouth now, rough and raw around the edges by weeks of restraint and the complete lack of it sitting underneath. He shakes his head in frustration, dragging a hand along his face.
"Look, you— this, whatever you've been trying to do all night. No, scratch that, you've been doing this for weeks now. It's not going to happen, it can't happen."
"You wanna know what i think?" You ask instead, tilting your head.
"No."
"I think you liked avoiding me."
Jungkook's eyes darken at your words, sharp enough to slice through your skin that's ravaged with desire. And as the dawn slowly breaks, you see the walls crumbling down beneath his feverish, agitated gaze. Because you've already stripped him out of his armor and he hates how naked and vulnerable he might look to your eyes.
"You liked it because it gave you an excuse to think about me all the time." Your voice softens slightly, just enough to feel intimate. "Every room i walked into, every conversation you avoided, every time you looked away before i caught you. You liked it because that was the only way to fill your mind with me without feeling guilty."
Jungkook laughs quietly, but there's nothing amused about it. The sound comes out frayed, disbelieving, like he's hearing his own thoughts being spoken back to him in your voice and hates how accurate they sound.
"You think this is easy for me?" He asks, and the shift in his tone catches you off-guard. It's not softer, not gentler either— but it's honest. Raw in a way that sits somewhere so deep in his chest, so much more than he has been willing to show until now. "You think i enjoy walking into a room and having to pretend i'm not thinking about you?"
At his confession, your breath stutters without waiting for permission. Because suddenly, every letter rolling out of his tongue feels heavy. Because this is the first time he's admitting it out loud, even if it sounds like it's being dragged out against his will.
His eyes dip briefly to your lips before lifting again, but it's slow, as if the movement costs him something he can't pay for. "You keep looking at me like that." He mutters, so low that you think it's not meant for you.
"Like what?" You ask, looking up at him through your lashes.
"Like you already know i'm gonna give in."
You tilt your head slightly, pushing yourself further into his embrace. "Are you?" You ask, voice laced with a honeyed amusement.
He exhales sharply with closed eyes, and for a second, you think he's actually going to walk away. You see the glimpses of conflict flash across his features, shoulders tensing like he's forcing himself to hold onto the last scraps of control he has left.
But then his hands find your waist, firm and certain in a way that makes you believe he won't let go this time. Whatever was left of Jungkook's self-control gives in completely, and his lips are on yours in an instant.
A mix of gasps and moans falls from your lips, and he swallows them without wasting a second. Your fists find his jacket, tugging onto the fabric as you close the remaining bits and pieces of distance between your bodies.
His hands drop drown to your hips, moving them to the rhythm of your lips until you're fully on his lap. His thumb pulls at your bottom lip, searching for permission to be let in even further into your mouth. You grant him the access immediately, his tongue clashing against yours in a way that's hot, wet, and so fucking desperate.
You draw circles with your hips on his lap, his already hardened length pressing into your clothed core. The friction feels so good it blows your breath away, and your stomach flutters every time his skin touches yours in a way that's rather vulnerable and intimate instead of sole lust.
Jungkook feels his cock pulsing beneath the fabric of his jeans, and he swears he's going to cum on the spot if you keep moving your hips like that. Your wetness leaves filthy stains on the course denim, marking him with your arousal.
"This dress," He breathes into your mouth, voice laced with fever as he tugs onto the thin fabric. "You wore it for me?"
You smirk into the kiss, not forgetting to continue moving your hips. "Wouldn't you like to know." You sing softly.
He scoffs, hand sliding in through your dress to settle on your bare ass, giving it a hard squeeze, fingers digging into the soft flesh. "Oh, i already do."
The moment a soft trace of streetlights spread inside from the corner and chase away the darkness, Jungkook knows it's his cue to pull away. A final opportunity to let him fix everything he has broken and lost himself inside, a weak excuse to allow him wake up to a brighter morning without the weight of betrayal and regret and burnt desire he hates himself for not being able to keep hidden.
But he doesn't, he's so lost in the drug called you and as your body searches his further and further, there's almost nothing left in him that's holding him back from being gone completely.
Your movements on his lap grow into something more and more desperate, pussy aching with need as his hands wander all around your body, feeling you up beneath your dress. He lifts the skirt over your hips, exposing it to the cool air of the garage and your breath hitches at the feeling of being so bare all of a sudden.
"Shit— stop, stop." He nearly begs, pulling his lips away from yours. You look back at him, momentarily thrown. Because what does he mean stop? He can't, not right now, not when he's got you all hot and bothered on his lap.
"What's wrong?" You ask softly, brows pulling together.
"I'm— I'll cum if you keep doing that. Wanna be inside you."
The words mean so much more to you than just lust. Because this isn't only want, not at all. It's ravishment, the breakage of suppression that has been dressed up as a boundary for way too long. Jungkook has spent weeks— no, scratch that. He has spent years holding himself together so tightly you almost started believing he was actually capable of resisting you.
But now, he's sitting beneath you, looking completely unraveled by your body against his. Nothing more, nothing less.
You did that. The thought alone makes you dizzy.
You take a moment to let your gaze drift over his face; taking in the spent rise and fall of his chest, his red lips that are swollen from kissing you, the frustration and desperation tangled together beneath his darkened gaze…He looks wrecked in a way that doesn't suit him at all. Because Jeon Jungkook has always been a man of precision and there isn't a single ounce left of it in his being tonight.
He was always guarded in a way that kept every ugly thought locked somewhere private, somewhere no one else could reach, could touch. And now, Jeon Jungkook is falling apart right in front of you— because of you.
"Yeah? You want to fuck me, Jungkook?" You ask slowly, voice low and sultry as your nails trail lines along his inner thighs.
Jungkook lets out a low groan before speaking. "Come here." He says, pulling you back onto him. You laugh with the movement as your hands work on the zipper of his jeans, and he lifts his hips enough to assist you pull them off just enough.
Once his boxers are pulled down and his cock is all bare and exposed for you to see, you can't help but let your lips part in shock. You feel yourself nearly drooling over his size because fuck, he's huge.
You shouldn't be shocked, you've already felt him up and you expected nothing less. But seeing it like this, thick and long and leaking for you— you think you're going to pass away.
"See something you like, baby?" He smirks, all cocky and confident.
"That's not going to fit." You reply immediately, gaze flicking up and down consecutively.
"We'll make it fit." He says, eyes stuck on yours as he gives himself a few strokes. "And you're going to take every inch like the good girl you are."
You just stare at him, utterly in shock, almost scared. Because what the actual fuck is he talking about? You've never taking anything this big, and you're not sure if anyone ever has either.
"You were begging for me to fuck you. Weren't you, princess? Were so desperate for my cock and now what? Cat's got your tongue?" He says, a loose grin on his face as his thumb swipes over the head and spreads the precum.
"I'll take it." You say obediently.
"Yeah?" He breathes, lifting your hips so that your entrance is lining up with his cock.
"I'll take all of it. Need your big cock so bad. Fuck me, Jungkook. Please, need it." You beg, trying to push yourself down to take him into your cunt but he tightens his hands around your hips to hold you in place.
He guides your hips down slowly, letting you feel every line and every vein that's painting his pretty length. You whine at the stretch, but there's still half of him you haven't taken yet.
"Fuck," He groans, letting his eyes close and his head fall back as you sink down further. "You're so tight."
You both moan loudly as he presses your hips down fully, your wet cunt swallowing him wholly. He watches as his cock disappears between your folds, so wet and creamy with your slick that's already obnoxiously overflowing. Once all of him is inside you, you let out a high pitched whimper, feeling the way your walls burn with how good he's stretching you, because he's just that big. So fucking massive it's insane. And you swear you've never felt this full in your entire life.
"Holy shit." You gasp when he lifts his hips to meet you halfway, balls hitting your ass with the movement.
"How does it feel, princess? Anything like you imagined?" He asks, thrusting up into you as he guides your hips down, hands squeezing the flesh of your plump ass. "Use your big girl words, i know you can."
"So good, Jungkook. I'm so full, you're so— so big." You cry out, nails digging into his shoulders.
He pushes down the top of your dress, exposing the lace fabric of your red bra. He pulls it down just enough to bare your boobs, breath hitching the moment they bounce free right in front of his eyes.
Jungkook sucks in a sharp breath the moment you find your pace, your tits bouncing up and down as you hop on his cock, riding him to chase your own high. One of his hands lift to massage your tit as the other keeps digging into the flesh of your ass. You whimper when he takes your hardened nipple into his mouth, bouncing on his cock in a pace that slowly grows into something sloppier as the hot feeling of your orgasm starts building low in your stomach.
"Kook, i'm cumming. Shit."
"Yeah? Let it go, baby. Cream all over my fat cock."
His words do it for you, and you fall apart on his cock after a few more thrusts. Your legs start shaking and you bury your head in his neck for support, panting into his skin.
"You okay?" He asks, head tilted as he tries looking at your profile.
"Yeah…just," You breathe, straightening your posture to pull away and take a proper look at him. "Wanna make you feel good."
Jungkook groans loudly, letting his head fall back at your words. Because how can he act normal, how can he hold it together when your mouth keeps reciting filthy words so casually like you're talking about the weather?
He can't believe this, he still can't believe he's just fucked you on his stupid bike. Because this is you. Jaehyun's little sister. The girl he spent years forcing himself not to look at for to long. And now, he's got you all naked and completely spent on his lap, touching him like the yellow light that's filling up the void of control he'd built for himself, warming him up so intimately without even realizing you're doing so.
He's a goner. He's so irreversibly fucked and completely gone.
But what worsens it for him is, that you don't look too different from the state he's in. You've fallen apart right in front of his eyes, skin flushed, sounds breathless, movements desperate. They tell him you're just as gone as he is. There is something so dizzying about it, about seeing the exact effect he has on you after weeks of wondering whether he imagined it all or not.
He didn't.
Thank god, he didn't.
As his eyes wander all over you, desire burning through him so intensely it almost feels violent, he thinks about the one thing he has been dying to ask you.
Because if he doesn't ask now, when will he ever?
"Can i—" Jungkook cuts himself off with a quiet curse, dragging a hand down his face before looking back at you. "Fuck, can i fuck your tits?"
The corner of your mouth twitches upwards immediately, amusement curling through your face despite how breathless he left you just minutes ago. The overhead light catches against the flush spreading across your skin, showing off the mess he's made of you.
Your fingertips move onto the hem of your dress, pausing there long enough for anticipation to sizzle in his lungs before you slowly pull the fabric upwards.
Jungkook watches every movement, so so carefully. Like he's afraid that if he blinks, he'll miss something. And when your dress is completely off, he thinks that he might actually die right then and there.
The breath that leaves him when you unclasp your bra and let it fall down to the ground is sharp. His gaze drags over you with a kind of raw hunger he stopped trying to hide a long time ago tonight. There is nothing composed about him now, nothing careful. Just pure, unadulterated want.
"Jesus Christ." He mutters under his breath, hands flexing at his sides like he doesn't know what to do with them.
You tilt your head slightly, watching him through your lashes, a small and seductive smile playing on your lips. "You look overwhelmed."
"You think?" He argues, a rough laugh slipping out of his lips. "Press'em together for me, baby." He says, hands braced behind him as he leans into the handlebars.
You press your tits together, then lean forward onto him to take his cock between the soft flesh of your boobs. Jungkook's eyes flutter shut in an instant, a low groan escaping his lips as you start moving your chest up and down. His dick is already so wet, sliding between your boobs seamlessly.
"Love your tits, princess. Gonna paint them with my seed." He moans, long gone in the bliss. Jungkook's hips jerk beyond his control, and he starts fucking your tits as you move along with his pace.
He cums all over your chest not long after with low grunts of curses and your name on his tongue.
The garage still feels warm, still thick with tension and the aftermath of everything that just happened, everything that was boundto happen for weeks. But there isn't an edge to it anymore. Because Jungkook isn't looking at you the way he was just a few hours ago. Because now, there's no frustration behind his gaze. Instead, he looks wrecked.
He leans back against the handlebars as he tries catching his breath, one hand still on your thigh. You sit sideways across his lap, completely naked, hair messy, lips swollen.
Your fingers drift absentmindedly along the collar of his shirt as he tries catching his breath, smoothing the fabric. "You know," You murmur, eyes dancing over him. "You're a lot softer than i thought you'd be."
Jungkook laughs lightly. "You literally spent weeks trying to ruin my life."
"Mhm." You tilt your head, pretending to think. "You survived tho."
He snorts, thumb drawing circles on your thigh. "Barely."
You smile, then lean into his chest when his hand slides higher along your waist without really thinking, skin calloused and a little rough on your soft skin. But for some reason, it comforts you in a way nothing ever has.
Because for a second, it doesn't feel complicated at all. It doesn't feel like boundaries or guilt or Jaehyun or years of years of knowing each other but never doing anything about it. It just feels like Jungkook's hands on your body and the quiet look in his eyes that says he's still trying to process how badly he wanted this.
How badly he still wants it.
"I really tried not to." He says suddenly.
You look at him, brows pulling together faintly as you try to figure out what he's going to say. "Tried not to what?"
His eyes flick down to your lips before lifting again. "Want you."
Your stomach flips when he says that. Because they sound real. There is no teasing in them. No temptation, no flirtation. Just raw, unadulterated truth.
You lift your head to look at him properly, suddenly a little too aware of how close the two of you still are. How his hand hasn't moved from your waist, how your legs are still tangled with his on the bike like neither of you has figured out how to leave.
"You sucked at it." You say softly.
That earns you a real laugh this time. It's quiet and tired, yet warm around the edges in a way you've never heard him before. Even if you have, it was never for you. But now it feels so intimate that every breath he takes, every word he says, every single thing he does is in honour to you.
"Yeah, i know." And for one dangerous moment, everything feels easy.
Then the front door slams open upstairs.
"I'm home!" Jaehyun's voice echoes through the house; loud, drunk and completely unaware. "Why the fuck is the garage light on?"
Jeon Jungkook is the world’s cheesiest fuckboy, and somehow he ends up tangled in your sheets. You, a quiet straight-A student who has always been too good, but everyone knows that's not entirely the case. You told him from the start you don’t do commitment. He swore he felt the same. That is…until he started falling for you.
Jeon Jungkook is the world’s cheesiest fuckboy, and somehow he ends up tangled in your sheets. You, a quiet straight-A student who has always been too good, but everyone knows that's not entirely the case. You told him from the start you don’t do commitment. He swore he felt the same. That is…until he started falling for you.
hashtag - rewritten
Pairing: fuckboy!Jungkook x (fem) reader, fwb
Genre: fwb au, uni au, idiots to lovers, fluff, angst, slow burn (kind of).
Topics: friends with benefits, sweaty baseball player Jungkook at practice, fear of commitment, Jungkook has a crush on oc uwu, unrequited romantic feelings unu, ignoring texts and what not.
w/c: 3K
a/n: hashtag- need that!! 🍮🥄 ˚₊‧ This is a rewrite. You can check the post on my page as to why I chose to rewrite the published parts of this story. It may be the same, but it's elevated, okay? Also Jungkook is a hopeless romantic when it comes to yn, his sweet cheeks but yn kind of doesn't gaf about him LOL
I kind of lost the taglist 💔 please comment if you wanna be tagged tysm
⭐️ cwy masterlist
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It was a Friday afternoon, and while most would have fun plans, you were actually going to be locked away in the campus library with your study group. Your plan was to study for an upcoming anatomy exam, and then meet up with four of your group members to finish a psychology project due next week.
You were about to spend the whole night in the library with people you weren’t even that familiar with. Even though they weren’t happy when you told them you were only available on Friday nights, everything worked out in the end. You offered to buy everyone coffee and pastries from the cafe where you work part-time.
You check your phone for the time, and your eyes glance at the notification bar: 9 unread messages from Jeon Jungkook.
It’s not like you were intentionally not answering his texts; you were just…a little busy. Besides, he texted you unimportant things all week, like sending silly TikToks and asking how you were doing.
Nothing important.
What was he thinking? On the very first night, you told him that if he wanted to keep doing this, it would be just him blowing your back out, nothing more, nothing less. There was no reason to talk outside of that when you made it abundantly clear you did not want a boyfriend and that wasn’t about to change for anyone.
Either way you should have known Jeon Jungkook wouldn’t listen, he made it blatantly obvious he liked you, always wanting to see you, stopping to greet you in the hallways, buying you snacks whenever he could.
Sure it was cute, but you were almost positive you didn’t want that; you wanted to keep things on the low with him, and when you brought it up, he mumbled against your chest, ‘No one knows we fuck. They all know we’re just friends.’
Jungkook was popular, like really popular, so popular you’re pretty sure that at least half the girls on campus have seen his dick by now. Which made things a little more complicated because suddenly he only wants to see you more and more often.
To keep things under control, you never let guys get too close, or you drew them in close enough only to pull away.
It kept you safe from heartbreak but also satisfied your need to be loved and wanted, and of course you made sure Jungkook knew he wasn’t the only guy you were seeing. You’ve been in a situation like this with another man, and you weren’t about to go through it again.
You grab your bag filled with all your essentials, and the binder you carried around like it was a baby. Checking the time again you realize you had just enough time to pay a certain someone a little visit.
Before stopping by the café, you stepped through the shortcut across the field—right where students passed to avoid going around.
The plan was just to walk by and see if he was there…
Jungkook stood by the dugout, helmet tucked under his arm, sweat glistening on his forehead. It’s been a week since he last saw you.
That means it’s been a week of stolen glances across the halls, small moments of eye contact that didn’t last very long. He tried to play it cool and told himself that you’re just as busy as he is. Maybe you had a bad week, a hectic schedule, or you were just working longer hours.
He texted you…multiple times…
On Monday morning he sent a simple “Morning,” with a couple more texts throughout the day, then again on Tuesday, “Studying late again? Want me to bring coffee?” No answer.
Wednesday night he asked if you had dinner already, and yesterday he sent a silly cat meme because…well, he thought of you when he saw it.
He wasn’t needy, and never bothered you. You both agreed that there would be no labels, just sex, so technically, no one owed anyone texts or explanations.
Then why did he feel this way?
He didn’t want to look desperate, but a voice in the back of his mind that kept saying, “What if she’s avoiding you?” Made him overthink everything. Was he being too much? Did he say something stupid the last time you saw each other?
Jungkook hasn’t really done this kind of thing with other girls, like sneaking into your dorm when the RA wasn’t around, stealing kisses in between classes, or spending quiet mornings tangled in blankets after a late-night “study” session.
He pushed his feelings aside and tried to concentrate on his own things.
“Jungkook! You’re up!”
Coach Park's voice snapped him out of his daze. Jungkook straightened, grabbing a bat from the rack, rolling his shoulders back before stepping on to the plate. He squared his stance, knees slightly bent, bat raised, eyes locked onto the pitcher, Kim Mingyu.
Mingyu was a show-off, with that stupid cocky smirk after every strikeout, loud trash talk that got on Jungkook’s nerves. They weren’t exactly friends, more like rivals who only tolerated each other because of baseball.
The whistle blew, and Jungkook tightened his grip on the bat. Across the diamond, Mingyu turned and threw a fastball straight at him, Jungkook swung too early and the ball went flying past his face in a blur.
Coach Park frowned, arms crossed. “Try that again,” he barked.
Keeping his eyes on the ball, Jungkook quickly changed his stance and let out a sharp breath. The second pitch seemed to come in faster; it was a curveball. Jungkook took a swing and missed again, but this time he swung too late.
Jungkook didn’t even bother hiding his frustration, he dropped the bat with a quiet thud, shoulders slumping. Coach Park stepped forward, face stern as he raised a hand. “Mingyu! Change the pitch. Just throw it straight!”
With a huff, Mingyu grabbed another ball. Coach Park patted Jungkook on the shoulder “Focus,” he said simply. “Breathe. You’re better than this.”
When Coach Park blew the whistle, the team groaned in unison. “Take ten, everyone,” the players scattered, grabbing water bottles and towels as they headed to the benches.
Jungkook dropped his bat on the rack, still breathing hard. His jersey clung to his back from sweat. He grabbed a water bottle but didn’t drink yet– coach Park sat beside him.
“Listen,” he said quietly, “you’re one of my best hitters…but you’re not in it today.”
He crossed his arms. “Saturday’s game against Riverside? That’s your chance to shine.”
Jungkook twisted the cap off his water bottle and took a long swig, the cool liquid making him feel better. He avoided Coach Park’s gaze, staring across the field.
“Yeah,” he said finally, “I just didn’t sleep well last night.”
Jungkook fiddled with the cap, he hadn’t slept well…beacause he kept thinking about you. A thousand scenarios played in his head, What were you up to that you didn’t even have a chance to answer his texts? Maybe something happened? A medical emergency? A family issue?
He didn’t know anything, and that’s what bothered him.
He knew he wasn’t the only guy in your life, he knew you had friends, other classmates you studied with, guys in your pre-med group you’d grab coffee with after lectures.
But Jungkook was…something more than that, right?
You kissed almost every time you saw each other. He memorized how you took your coffee, knew what your favourite movie was. He would like to think he was one of the important guys in your life that you would at least text back.
The sound of one of the bats hitting the ground snapped Jungkook out of his daze. He bent down to pick it up, but something else caught his eye.
He looked toward the path near the bleachers and saw you.
You walked through the shortcut behind a group of students, your skirt swaying with each step. The late afternoon sun made you glow, and your hair was blowing in the breeze like it was some sort of dream.
When he catches sight of you, his pulse quickens, his hands feel clammy and his throat goes dry. Without realizing it, he straightens up quickly.
You spot him as quickly as he spots you, and your hand rises out of instinct, waving at him with that sweet smile. He does the same, a goofy grin appearing on his face.
“Wait up!” He calls out, his voice a bit rougher than he intends.
Stopping in your tracks, you watch as he walks up to you by the short chain-link fence next to the field, brushing the dust off his uniform, trying to look somewhat presentable for you.
“Hey,” you said softly, as you tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear.
You felt guilty as soon as you saw his face. You didn’t mean to ghost him; you were just busy this week.
Maybe you should have sent answered his texts.
Jungkook runs a hand through his hair, trying to act nonchalant, even though his heart is already pounding. Seeing you and actually getting to talk to you properly for the first time this week makes him a little nervous.
He suddenly felt embarrassed over how many texts he sent that went without an answer, he wonders if you even saw them.
“Are you here to watch practice today?" He asks as leans against the fence.
Every now and then, you would come to watch Jungkook during practice — well, not really watch, more like read by the bleachers while pretending like you weren’t staring whenever he turned away.
You look around the field behind him, his teammates stretching, some chatting before catching his gaze again. “I was just passing by,” you say, holding your binder close to your chest, your favourite bag hanging from your shoulder.
Jungkook could tell you were on your way somewhere, that’s for sure. The sight makes him curious, but he pushes the question aside for now, focusing on keeping this conversation going.
He pushes off the fence, wiping the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand, then there’s a slight smirk on his face.
“Just passing by, huh? Sure it’s not an excuse to come check me out?”
You laugh at the absurdity of his question, “Why would I come all the way here to check you out?” You both knew it was the other way around, Jungkook usually came to you.
A chuckle escapes him at your comment, his smirk only growing wider, turning into a cocky grin. He leans on the fence again, looking at you with a playful glint in his eyes.
“Are you sure about that?” He asks and you raise an eyebrow.
“Well, it looks like you were headed to the library, and walking through here is taking the longer way around,”
It was technically a shortcut to the other side of campus, but not to the library. Your eyes widen a little,you try to think of a reason other than wanting to see him, but the way you reacted showed him he was right.
“It’s okay if you want to see me…I know I look good out here,” he says, voice low and confident.
Then, you squint at him, acting nonchalant. “How can you be so sure?”
He gives you a quick once-over, taking in your form. That skirt looked so good on you, and it was a little short for the library…or at least he thought so.
He snaps out of his trance, “You seem like the type who’s into athletes.”
You bite your lip, trying to hold back your smile. “You think so?” You glance over his shoulder at his friends, huddling up checking the two of you out.
He follows your gaze and notices his teammates watching, grinning like idiots. “Hey!” He shouts at them, waving a hand, “Stop staring!”
They laugh and turn away, but Jungkook is already back to looking at you, the sight of you biting your lip doing things to him that it really shouldn't be doing in the middle of practice.
“Yeah,” he says softly, stepping closer to the fence, “I know so and if you keep looking at me like that…I’ll make you admit it later.”
Your eyebrow twitches, contemplating his words, and your binder almost slips out of your hands, but you catch it before it does.
“I can’t tonight.”
His grin falters for a moment. It's been a week. Running a hand through his hair again, trying to shake off his disappointment.
“Right, you’re busy.” He tries not to let his voice give away his real feelings.
“What, you got a hot date or something?” He’s joking and trying to sound casual, but he really wants you to say that you’re free.
“I wish,” you tease back, “I have this group project thing,” holding up the binder a bit as if saying, isn’t it obvious?
He lets out a sigh of relief. Of course you’d spend a Friday night at the library, it’s just a group project, not a date.
That’s good… yeah.
He folds his arms over his chest. “A group project, huh?” He eyes the binder. “That explains the nerd energy coming off of you.”
You roll your eyes and give him that sarcastic ‘ha ha’ very funny look. He grins, eyes never leaving your face. “So, who’re you working with for the project? Anyone I know?”
You don’t even notice his snooping, getting at the question in a discreet kind of way, trying to see if another guy’s name comes up.
As if he already doesn’t feel jealous at the thought of you working on a stupid project with some other guy on a Friday night.
“Mmm, I don’t think so…” Your voice trails, trying to remember faces and names of the members in your group and see if they’re tied to Jungkook in any way.
“Mmm” he repeats, that wasn’t very reassuring.
Though, he shouldn’t overthink it.
He just hums in acknowledgement, gaze still fixed on you. “Alright then,” he pauses, thinking about something to say…should he ask if you were free tomorrow?
“Before you go, can you do me a favour?”
You couldn’t help but be intrigued “Depends on the favour,” you lean in closer to the fence to hear what he has to say,
His eyes darken just a bit as you lean in, he lowers his voice, the smirk on his face only growing. “For being such a smartass you’re awfully compliant all of a sudden.” And you roll your eyes playfully with a huff.
Jungkook looks around for a moment, at the field, his friends and the passers-by making sure no one is looking, “Come closer,” he tells you.
You do as he says, stepping closer, hands grabbing onto the fence, he reaches for you over the fence, his hand closing around your wrist and gently tugging you even closer toward him, your body just inches away from the metal.
“I think this is as close as I can get,” you mutter nervously.
He leans in slightly, voice dropping to a whisper so only you can hear.
“Want to know what the favour is?”
“I do,” you whisper back, fingers grabbing onto his sleeve, looking at him in the eyes with a defiant glare, hoping he wasn’t about to say something stupid.
He glances around one last time, making sure you’re not being watched. When he’s sure no one is paying attention, his gaze lowers to your lips.
Jungkook leans in close, his breath ghosting your lips, his voice is soft, “Open your mouth,” he purrs full of challenge, a tease just to see if you’ll listen.
You pause, taken aback, you were expecting him to kiss you and say something like, ‘Call me later.’
If you open your mouth, what was he going to do? Spit in it? In front of everyone? People were sure to see and talk about that. It’s disgusting, yet that doesn’t stop the shiver that crawls down your spine at the thought.
Curiosity killed the cat, you think. You're not sure what’s gotten into you, without thinking about it twice, you’re opening your mouth for him just like that.
The sight of you obeying his command makes his breath catch in his throat. He watched you open your mouth, gaze hot and intense, and a low groan of satisfaction escapes him.
“Wider.” He challenges just to see how far you’re willing to go.
‘Aaa' you let out, opening your mouth wider, his pupils dilated at the sight, your lips parted, completely under his command.
“Good girl,” he murmurs, voice soft like velvet. “I wish this fence wasn’t here so I could kiss you properly.” he hooks his thumb on your bottom lip before you could respond.
Without breaking eye contact, he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a strawberry candy, the red wrapper crinkled as he peeled it open with his free hand.
Then he gently places the candy on your tongue, he knew strawberry was your favourite, he always bought some when he saw them at the convenience store near campus just because he thought you’d like that.
You closed your lips around the candy, savouring the flavour, a shy smile on your face, it was gross but kind of sweet…
“Stay sweet for me, yeah?” he smirks and lets go.
Oh, Jungkook knew the effect he had on you, he did all of this on purpose! He was going to have you thinking about this allllllll night.
He pauses and looks away. "Just...text me back," he says softly, scratching the back of his neck. "Even if it's just a 'hey' or 'I'm busy' or anything," you can tell him that he feels awkward saying this to you.
This was that shy side of Jungkook that you didn't see often but adored, “I just want to know that you’re okay.” he finally admits out loud.
He looks over your face and notices that shy expression on your face, then smiles before turning back to the field and letting go of the fence. His honesty makes your face feel warm, and you turn away as well. Since when does this man have such an effect on you?
Hey guys, sorry for having such an inconsistent schedule with my story. I'll try to be better for future projects on my blog 💔
For those asking/wondering about an update, sorry to break it to you, but I am in the middle of a rewrite. (IK,IK I'M SORRY)
CWY is my first fic ever, and I don't think I'm very good at creative writing yet. That's why I started this blog in the first place—to expand on that.
At first, I started writing it with no real idea in mind. It was an 'I'll write as I go' kind of sitch. But since I want to add more to the story, I decided to rewrite all 4 parts so they make more sense when put together.
I don't know, I'm not saying this rewrite will be the best. I'm aiming for something better, part one is almost done, so I'll be posting that very soon.
If you see this, I'm letting you know ahead of time that I'm going to delete the four parts that are already out.
you've tried, but you can't help yourself from crushing on your best friend's dad. hot, buff, tatted up and successful, mr. jeon is the starring actor in all of your wettest dreams. and as you wake up from one while sleeping over at his house after his daughter's birthday party, you don't expect all of them to suddenly come true. but they do.
⌗ repost. originally posted as OLDER. from the grande series.
pairing: dilf!jk x inexperienced!fem reader
genre: smut, angst, dilf au, best friend's father au
contents: porn with some lots of plot, age gap (oc 21 | jk 38), dom jk, sub reader, voyeurism, messy blow job, fingering, oral (f receiving), bit of tit play (small chested reader yayy), two (2) spanks, unprotected sex, cum eating, dirty talk, a bit of degradation, but also praise, pet names, ANGST :P, she falls first he falls harder??? but miscommunication sadly, forbidden love
word count: 17.4k
author’s note: wellll… hey people 🤭 guess who’s back! i don’t wanna make this long so i won’t say too much, we can take this to the inbox if u guys want 💋 for those who remember me, hello lovies!!! i’m thinking of reposting some of my old fics before giving you new content hehe ! special thanks to my day ones who fought hard and brought me here again even through my hesitation, you know who you are 🥰🩷 love u!!! enjoy!!!
In the backseat of his car, you stare forward at his hands gripping the steering wheel. There's something hypnotic about the way his fingers curl around the leather. You bite your lips, an attempt to suppress the heat easily pooling low in your belly, your thighs rubbing together to conceal the effects of your lewd thoughts.
One in particular stands out. It’s the one that puts a shameless, selfish smile on your face when you fixate on the fourth finger of his left hand lacking a gold band.
It's been a few months since that day — since Areum, your best friend, showed up at your door in a frantic state, her finger jabbing the bell over and over in a panicked rhythm that jolted you from your bed.
You had nearly tripped down the stairs in your rush to swing the entrance open, and when you did, you were instantly tackled by your friend collapsing into your arms, her tears soaking through your shirt.
Kicking the door shut, your hands busy embracing Areum with your eyes wide, you tried to steady both her and yourself. In between her uncontrollable sobs, shaking you to the core, she let her worries tumble out her mouth. Words came in a torrent, fast and breathless, barely giving you any time to fully process them as she buried her face in your neck.
It took a moment for the huge news to break through your thick, slowed down brain, but then it struck you, Areum chanting it repeatedly as if she couldn’t grasp her mind around it: her parents were splitting up. Divorce was imminent.
Your own disbelief mirrored hers, but for very different reasons. You felt it in the way your shock turned into excitement; indecorous, depraved exhilaration, with your heartbroken friend still in your arms.
Even as her sobs echoed, your mind latched onto one single thought, repeating like a mantra: he’s single. Mr. Jeon is single.
You felt terribly guilty when you sensed a smile that you couldn’t quite suppress stretching over your features, and the jittery sensation that came with it flowed your body and reached your hands, tightening harder around Areum to try and squeeze the shame out of yourself.
Since that day, you’ve lost count of how many afternoons you’ve spent at the Jeon’s house. You've been doing your best to be the friend Areum needs, to keep her company when what she fears the most is loneliness. You’ve been a constant presence, helping her through the mountain of neglected work she left piling up, distracting her with baking sessions, or mindlessly binge watching entire seasons of Friends on lazy evenings. Anything to keep her mind off the pain.
But each visit is an opportunity. A fleeting chance to see him. To study how he moves around the house with an intensity that still manages to feel like a calm, steady current filling every room.
You’ve memorized many of his mannerisms. The way his eyes soften when he looks at Areum; the way his mouth twitches into a faint smile when she tries to cheer him up; the way he nods at you in recognisment, silently letting you know he’s grateful for what you’re doing to help his daughter.
You wish you could help him too. In other ways. Ways you know you shouldn’t be thinking about.
You can’t avoid it, though. You've witnessed him come back home from work countless times now, watched the tension etched across his features as he steps through the door, wished you could be the one to ease it off his shoulders. Let your hand travel down his chest, reach his belt.
You feel disgusting unfailingly, but how can you not let your mind wander when he groans so deliciously every time he loosens the tie around his neck and kicks off his shoes?
You know exactly what his next move is, the imperceptible sigh melting the weariness off his face the moment he greets his daughter, a tender smile breaking through his exhaustion.
“Any requests for dinner tonight, girls?” He always asks, his gaze jumping between Areum and you on the living room couch, waiting for a response.
After your friend replies she likes whatever her daddy cooks, your stomach twists with nerves when his eyes meet yours to make sure there’s no complaints, and you quickly shake your head, biting your lips to keep from saying something foolish. Is your dick on the menu? Perhaps?
And the man can cook. Exceptionally well. He moves around the kitchen with purpose in his every movement, each dish you have the honor of tasting better than the last.
While you help setting the table, you catch yourself staring more times than you should. You can’t help but wonder if there’s anything he’s not good at. Fuck. Is there even a single flawed bone in this man’s body? With every day you spend at his house, you’re convinced there can’t be.
You want him to notice you, the same way you notice him. You tell yourself you’re just being a good friend to Areum, but you know there’s more behind your constant visits.
There’s definitely more behind the way your skirts get shorter, your tops tighter, your bras purposefully not worn.
You feel crazed when you convince yourself his gaze falls upon your exposed thighs when he puts a plate in front of you at dinner, or when his eyes seem to be caught, only for a fleeting second, by your hardened nipples, evident through your poor excuses of shirts.
Even when your interactions don’t go further than a brief exchange about college and Areum or quiet, polite smiles in passing, the mere thought of being around him sends a rush through your veins.
You’ve been seeking more and more of that after one particular night, your feet making their way down the stairs after Areum had fallen asleep and you had rathered take your leave. You found him stretched on the couch, a drink in his hand.
His eyes hazily followed your movements, voice low and slightly slurred, “Are you leaving already?”
Hearing him acknowledge you outside of the usual context of Areum’s presence made you stop dead in your tracks, your reddened cheeks turning to face him, the dark color spreading all over your features when you fully took him in.
He was cladded in a comfortable attire, one you almost never saw on him, black sweatpants and a gray t-shirt deliciously hugging his shoulders, the short sleeves revealing the intricate ink designs running all over his right arm.
You shook yourself out of your trance suddenly, stuttering, “Huh… yes. Didn’t wanna be a bother.”
He chuckled softly, the sound sending a shiver down your spine, “Oh, you’re not. I wish all of my daughter’s friends were like you.”
His words hung in the air, filling it with sincerity and a sudden tension landing right on your chest. You quickly brushed it away with a laugh, a nervous, shaky sound escaping your lips, trying to mask the way your heart was racing with desperation for the gods to grace you with the depth of his tipsy voice all night.
To this day, you still think your horny and delusional prayer was heard when he nodded to the empty space beside him, lifting his glass slightly, “Care for a drink? You’re 21 now, right?”
You only nodded shyly, more out of reflex than actual thought, slowly making your way to sit beside him just as he had instructed. The proximity sent a wave of heat through your body, your insides melting with the lava, the smell of his cologne and laundry detergent replacing the burned ground with a trail of flowers.
You were willing to do whatever he wanted from you at that moment, even if it meant downing the harsh liquor he poured into a glass for you. You took a sip, struggling not to grimace at the burn that followed. He smiled.
It was probably the alcohol loosening his tongue, but that night, for the first time, you saw a side of Mr. Jeon that he kept carefully hidden away, his vulnerability a strong characteristic of it.
His words tumbled out in an almost confessional tone. He spoke about his marriage, about how he had always felt somewhat trapped. Still a teenager himself, he was only 17 when he found out his soon to be wife was pregnant with Areum; 23 when they decided to marry. Voice soft but tinged with sadness, he admitted he never felt like he got to live his youth to the fullest, certainly blessed with his perfect baby, but also chained down by responsibilities and a tightening pressure he shouldn’t have had to deal with at such a young age.
Then, with his eyes burning into your shiny and equally flaring ones, he paused just for a moment, and you felt he could see right through you, into the very core of your being. That he had you all figured out.
“When I look at you,” he continued, his voice barely more than a whisper, gaze traveling down your bare thighs, squished together on his couch, “I feel like I get a bit of that youth back. You're so full of life, so fresh, so… full of love for my daughter. I'm glad she has you. Glad we have you.”
As he found your orbs again, you noticed his had significantly darkened. You were sure your heart would have failed you if you had kept navigating in his gaze; instead, you looked down at your hands folded in your lap.
That night, he paid for your uber and insisted you sent him a text when you made it home. It was only read the morning after, and left unanswered.
Even now, you’re convinced that if it weren’t for the whisky, those words would have stayed locked away in his mind, never seeing the light of day. Not even if he were forced to speak them at gunpoint.
Still, you’re grateful for the magical effects of alcohol and how they’ve brought you a tiny bit closer to give a look into his complicated world. It has awakened something in you, which led you to the conclusion that you always want to be there for him. Help him through the doubts and regrets. Be the youth he missed. Take the weight off his shoulders. Let him use you on that couch.
That feral, undomesticated monster inside you is a hundred times hungrier when, exiting the library building with Areum by your side, babbling in your ear about today’s plans, you see his sleek Mercedes parked outside.
He honks, getting his daughter’s attention too, who excitedly walks over the car when she spots it. The sound works as a pavlovian trigger for you, it has your mouth salivating and your senses alert, catching up with your friend and getting in the backseat.
It has been a few weeks since you last saw him, both you and Areum too busy with assignments and outside activities, and his charming smile as he asks about the day cuts the breath from your lungs.
You’re silent as your friend fills him in, your ears struggling to pick up her speech as it only takes a few more seconds for your eyes to be caught by an interesting detail, one that has your world rocked: he finally took his wedding ring off.
The wedding ring that has stood as an unspoken boundary between you and your reckless fantasies is gone. The realization hits hard, and suddenly your mind veers into dangerous territory, conjuring visions that feel too real. You can almost feel his left hand wrapping around your waist, pulling you in, claiming you. And the images are so vivid, so consuming, that you don’t even notice when Areum nudges your shoulder.
You don’t register her calling your name until the sound finally cuts through, pulling you back to the present with a jolt. You blink a few times, trying to ground yourself, before turning to face her, Areum’s voice light but her expression amusedly curious, “Dad asked you a question.”
Your whole face drops, panic clear in your features, and heat immediately rushes to your cheeks. You've been zoning out, lost in a daydream about the very man sitting in front of you, the one you literally just ignored, too busy thinking of him. The irony is almost too much.
Your eyes find his in the rearview mirror, and the slight smirk on his lips only makes you look even dumber, stuttering all throughout your explanation, “Sorry, Mr. Jeon. I— um. I was distracted.”
He simply chuckles, low and clearly not offended by your lapse in attention. His focus is back on the road, but as he speaks you keep yours on the words he’s directing at you this time, “It’s okay. And I always tell you, just Jeongguk is fine. I was asking about your day, you seem a little worn out.”
“Oh. I—it went well! I guess I'm just a bit tired,” the words feel clumsy as they leave your mouth, but you hope they sound convincing enough. You just can’t stop your eyes from falling on his left hand.
“Well, you can’t be!” It’s Areum’s excitement interrupting your furious imagination and bubbling over, “You need to help me set up for tonight. Then, we’re gonna do our makeup, our hair, and dress up. I'm so excited!”
Right. The reason why you could finally see Mr. Jeon after weeks and why you’re currently driving to his house is because it’s Areum’s birthday.
The day feels significant in so many ways. You're excited to witness your best friend turn a year older, especially with all the hardships she’s been faced with. Honored that you’re the one she’s chosen to help make this night perfect, ensure every detail is just how she’s pictured this moment to be like. And you can’t deny that you feel slightly nervous at the prospect of tonight, knowing there are going to be faces you’re not that well acquainted with. You'd say you’re a bit awkward with new people, but you’ll try to bear through it for the sake of Areum’s happiness.
But mostly, you feel guilty. Because no matter how much you try to focus on your friend, the thought that truly makes your insides all mushy with fuzziness is the fact that you’re going to be in the proximity of her dad, again.
You crave for the smallest moments. The brief second where you’ll catch his gaze. The way his cologne will subtly linger in the hallways of his home. Your eyes have a habit of drifting to his hands, those strong, veined, tattooed hands that move so smoothly whenever he speaks.
Even now, in his car, as you glance at his side profile, there’s a ridiculous and almost cosmic sense of gratitude. Like you’ve been chosen. Blessed by whatever God to exist on this planet at the same time as him, to simply witness his presence.
It should be enough. It really should. But you’re a sinner. You're greedy, wanting more. Always more.
That buzzing sensation sticks with you throughout the entire day, hours packed with anxious over-organization, both you and Areum moving as if every step had to be executed flawlessly. And with all the chaos, he’s there in the back of your mind. Mr. Jeon.
He helps for a while, joining you in the backyard as you set up for the evening, his calm demeanor in stark contrast to the whirlwind around you. But then he disappears into his studio, into his own space, leaving you to your tasks, and you don’t see him until hours later.
Yet, you still feel him, as if he’s always near. His upstairs studio’s window faces the garden, and it’s enough to make you hyper-aware of your every gesture. You straighten your back, slow your steps. Because even though you don’t know if he’s really watching, it feels like he is.
Getting your makeup, hair and outfit ready with Areum does slightly ease that sensation off your chest. You love these moments with her. Shared girlhood when you do each other’s eyeliner, the flutter of excitement as you zip up dresses, as you rummage through her closet, searching for the perfect piece to complete your look.
But even then, you’re brought back to the man working just a few rooms down the hallway. It's astonishing how easily Areum has access to everything she wants. The power her dad holds, the kind of wealth that makes life feel effortless in ways you can’t help but envy. For her, money isn’t just something that buys things. It shapes her world. It’s as simple as snapping her fingers.
You don’t resent her for it, not really. But it makes you wonder what it would be like to live in a world where nothing is out of reach. Where everything, even the man who haunts your thoughts, could be yours with the right words or a simple gesture.
When you see him again, you’re standing in his kitchen. Areum is still upstairs, fixing the tiniest details to her makeup, but you decided to come down early, just in case the first guests arrive, wanting to be helpful, wanting to keep yourself busy.
You’re momentarily lost in the view outside the window, the backyard garden bathed in the warm glow of fairy lights, soft hues blending beautifully with the sage and pastel yellow decorations. It pulls a small smile to your face, knowing your hard work paid off.
The quiet peace is soon interrupted by the sound of a cupboard cracking open behind you, and you startle, your heart giving a quick jump.
You turn, following the noise, and there he is — Jeongguk, bent over as he retrieves a bottle of red wine from the lower cupboard. As he straightens up, bottle in hand, he finds your eyes already staring in his. He's uncharacteristically deliberate as he lets his gaze wander up and down your figure.
You’ve dressed carefully for tonight, choosing a flowy pink dress that flutters delicately against your thighs. The corset top hugs your waist in all the right ways, accentuating your shape. It’s the kind of dress that makes you feel just a little more confident, a little more seen.
But now, under his gaze, you feel rather exposed, as if he’s seeing more than just the fabric of your dress. His eyes linger, and when his orbs dip to your chest, it’s almost as if he hesitates, like he’s trying to tear his eyes away but can’t.
You’re not even sure if the engrossed look on his face is real or just the product of your own twisted fantasies.
Still, your body responds instinctively, your hand drifting up to play with your necklace, an unconscious gesture, while your other arm wraps around your waist, as if you’re trying to hold yourself together under the intensity of his stare.
When his eyes return to your wide ones, he gives a subtle nod towards your dress, and although the smile that curves his lips is warm you can’t decipher that something else it wants to communicate.
His voice is smooth, literal honey, sweet and rich, dripping out from his pillowy lips, “What a beauty. You look very pretty.”
Now, you weren’t expecting that. It steals the breath from your lungs. It's not just the words, or even the way he says them, velvet wrapping around your senses. It’s how he seems to drink you in, his refined wine nothing in comparison. Like you’re something to be savored just as carefully.
At this point, you’re seriously questioning if there was a stronger substance in the liquor you and Areum shared earlier, even if you hadn’t taken big quantities. But you figure it must have been enough to distort the current reality around you. Or maybe, Mr. Jeon is the inebriated one.
You don't know how you find the voice to speak, or if you even do, the word escaping your lips in an uncoordinated mess, almost imperceptible, “Thanks.”
He hums deeply in response, and it vibrates through the space between you. You let out a shaky exhale the moment his gaze finally shifts away. He resumes the task at hand, effortlessly opening the bottle of wine and turning his back to you as he reaches for a glass from the higher cabinet.
The muscles in his shoulders shift under his shirt, and for a split second, you’re unsure what to do. Whether to stay, add anything else, flee the room entirely. Make small conversation about Areum’s birthday. Comment on his look, too. Oh, you’d have a lot to say about it.
You can tell he just wrapped up his work-related tasks for today from the way the first three buttons of his white shirt are opened, revealing his deep cleavage. His hair slightly tousled, but in a way that looks perfectly intentional, unintentionally. His slacks hug him deliciously, rounding the curve of his ass and making you swallow hard.
Your eyes can’t resist trailing over him, but they quickly move up to stare at the ceiling, feigning deep thought when he turns back to face you and the counter.
Surprisingly, he’s the one to break the silence first, again. The rich sound fills the air as he pours his red wine, the motion so precise, so fluid, it feels like witnessing an authentic art form.
He doesn’t bother looking up at you as he asks, seemingly casual, but slightly amused, “Is there a boy you’re trying to impress tonight?”
The way he steers the conversation makes you less agitated, suddenly confident. Especially with the question thrown your way. Teasing, almost belittling. You can see he’s not even trying to hide his pretty smirk, his focus on the wine flowing into the glass.
The question lingers, and you twirl your necklace around your fingers, smoothing down your dress with your other hand, your eyes flitting to his naked left hand, “Mh… you could say so.”
Of course, you’re not thinking about a boy. Mr. Jeon is no boy — he’s a man. The kind women dream about but know they’ll never find. The kind that belongs on the big screen or in the pages of a novel, with his effortless charm, wealth, looks that stop you in your tracks.
But he’s in front of you. And he’s tall, muscular, with hands that could crush or caress, tattooed in a way that makes your mouth dry up and water all at once.
It’s him you want to impress. You want to affect him the way he affects you. You want to pull him in, make him look at you the way he makes your world tilt on its axis with just a glance.
You’re hypnotized as you witness him in one of his rich man activities, performing a ritual with the wine glass. He brings it to his nose, his eyes fluttering shut as he takes in the aroma. It’s sensual, the way he handles the glass, its liquid dancing with precision, as if even this simple act holds meaning. You can’t look away.
When he's satisfied, he finds you again, and your mouth is slightly open without you even realizing it. The moment he lifts the glass to his lips, you bite your own, almost harshly, your body reacting before your mind can catch up.
His smile is soft. He must know exactly what he’s doing to you.
Jeongguk mutters into the glass, his words resounding even stronger, “Well, he’d be a fool not to fall for you.”
The implications of his comment make you swallow audibly, while he downs his first sip of the wine with fine ease, his Adam's apple bobbing with it. The whole time, his eyes never leave yours.
A thick silence stretches between you, and you wish you could break it but you don’t know how. Your mind spins with the unspoken tension, instead he seems entirely comfortable with it. He places the glass back on the counter, the soft clink of it slicing through the quiet. Smoothly, he nudges it in your direction, his movements slow, as if testing the waters.
His voice is inviting, even more than usual, “You want to try?”
”Is that wine?” You instantly cringe at the way you sound strained.
He hums, a low sound of affirmation, watching you carefully. You briefly glance at the glass, "I've never had it.”
”Have it, then.”
With a slow twist of his fingers around the base, he slides the glass toward you. As it moves across the marble surface, you notice how he rotates it imperceptibly, but purposefully, so that the side where his lips touched the rim is now facing you. The gesture is subtle, but the intent behind it is clear. At least to your deranged fantasies.
There’s a faint lip mark where his mouth had been, and the sight of it pulls you in, making your pulse pound in your ears. You look back up at him, finding his gaze still on you, expression unreadable.
Without a word you lift the glass, your fingers wrapping clumsily around its stem. You bring it to your lips, mouth closing over the spot his lips had just pressed on.
The wine hits your tongue — bitter, sharp, and unfamiliar. You gulp hard, the liquid burning slightly as it slides down your throat. Your face scrunches involuntarily; the richness of the flavor is too much for you, and you can’t help but grimace as the aftertaste lingers.
He watches, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. When you set the glass down, he effortlessly picks it back up and brushes his fingers across the rim.
His tone laced with amusement, he asks, “Love it?”
You shake your head quickly, trying to hide your discomfort.
His chuckle is low, a soft rumble that makes your stomach flip. Swirling the wine gently, he muses, "I heard there’s going to be alcohol tonight.”
You grumble lightly, slumping your shoulders, “Ugh, I know.”
The endearment rolls off his tongue like a secret meant just for you, his voice dipping into something softer, more intimate, “Make sure you don’t drink too much, pretty face. I'll be around.”
Just like that, he turns and walks away, leaving you standing there, your thoughts spinning. Pretty face?
What just happened? You're not so sure, but eyeing the glass left alone on the counter, you impulsively grab it and decide to gulp its remnants down, groaning immediately after. Taking wine as a shot might not have been the best idea, but you’re certainly going to need all the possible devices to shake this feeling off.
It’s hard to do so, even as the birthday party kicks off. The energy in the backyard shifts as more guests arrive. Lively voices and unfamiliar faces begin to fill the space. Areum’s laughter cuts through the hum, infectious and bright, drawing everyone in. With your best efforts, you start engaging with others, smiling as you talk to some classmates and mutual friends, but it’s all surface-level. Your mind is elsewhere.
It's only later, as the evening progresses and the party settles into a rhythm, that you begin to relax. Mainstream music plays in the background and it inevitably involves everybody, some classic party games becoming the main entertainment.
Long after the cake and the gift-opening, the group gathers into a loose circle, throwing each other Never Have I Ever questions. You can’t help the way you all are still too young, and how you still get foolishly excited whenever the topic turns hot and hints at anything that is sex related. Childish and immature, you know, but your ears still perk when the first probing question is tossed out.
“Never have I ever been fingered.”
Areum instantly shushes it, her eyes panickedly looking back to the house in hopes her dad isn’t around. laughter bubbles just as quickly, both because of the question and the girl’s reaction.
As expected, many reach for their drink, and you do too. The few present boys holler in a teasing manner, gaining some eye rolls.
Sheepishly, the plastic cup touches your lips and you take the smallest sip of your punch. You can’t appear unbothered like your other peers, your cheeks subtly flaming as the embarrassing memories rush to your mind.
It’s silent, the small plea you telepathically send to anyone that might be listening. You pray for the topic to shift to something else, something that won’t inevitably put you at the center of the attention. Something you can relate to.
But of course, God is not on your side. The questions only dig deeper, wandering in uncharted territory (at least for you), and you never reach for your glass again.
You can only sink further in your chair the more everybody else around you seems even more lively with the way the game has turned, sharing their experiences, giggling as they listen and refill their cups. Beside you Areum buzzes with energy, and every question is just something for her to drink to, nothing that shocks her or that she isn’t familiar with.
Never have I ever given head.
Never have I ever been ate out.
Never have I ever rode someone.
It’s undeniable, your skin heating up. With how you’ve been spending your whole day, fantasizing about the man who’s probably already asleep in his bedroom by now, your friends sharing their adventures only fuels your imagination. You feel dirty when you put yourself in those scenarios, and for every daring moment they relive, the figure that appears beside you is always Mr. Jeon.
If only you turned your head, just for a moment, and glanced toward the kitchen window that faces the backyard, you would have seen the same man dominating your thoughts, staring intently at the scene unfolding outside.
Jeongguk is swallowed wholly by the darkness of the house, every light turned off. Maybe that’s why neither you nor Areum notice him.
You don’t see him. For once, you don’t feel him. You’re too caught up in the moment, too consumed by your own desires, unaware that the man that put you in that same condition is standing so close, watching.
Jeongguk intently studies how your face dips down at every new question, how your smile seems just a little too tight, too forced when listening to the stories, the ones that make you shift uncomfortably in your chair.
If you don’t notice it, he does almost immediately — the moment the attention in the circle shifts toward you.
The glances thrown your way become layered with a subtle curiosity, laced with something that looks like concern. But then, in the eyes of a few, Jeongguk catches a faint trace of judgment. It’s there, in the tilt of their heads, in the exchanged fleeting looks with one another, as if they sense your uneaseness and interpret it as something lesser. Something they can pick apart.
His jaw tightens as he observes, that familiar protective instinct stirring within him. It makes his hands twitch by his side, but he stays rooted in place.
Eventually, the moment you clearly seem to dread the most (it doesn’t take a genius to know. It’s written on your face. Or maybe, he got so used to studying you. It comes easy to him. Knowing you,) follows.
It makes you want to vanish into the thin air caressing your legs, how you can sense that the question is put out with intent, an only pretending-to-be-careful tone wrapping it, all pairs of eyes instantly directed in your direction.
“Never have I ever… had sex.”
You feel trapped, a momentary panic bubbling in your chest as you reach for your cup, hesitant. The rim hovers near your lips and you try avoiding every expectant glance, taking the smallest sip you can manage.
A murmur ripples through the circle. You can’t decipher it, too busy feeling the heat spread across your face. It's only later that you realize no one else drank. The question had been crafted specifically for you, a test.
Lara exhales, a teasing smile playing on her lips, “Woah, I was getting worried for a second there, ___.”
You barely have time to react before Areum steps in, her voice sharp in your defense, “What’s wrong with never having had sex, either way?”
“Nothing, but—”
You’re not sure why you speak, and why you choose your speech that way specifically. You cut in before you even realize what you’re doing, driven by a sudden urge to explain yourself, an unshakable need to clarify forcing itself up your throat, "I only took a small sip, though.”
The group’s collective curiosity spikes, attention zeroed in on you like never before. You feel it — everyone waiting for you to continue, to reveal something you’ve kept to yourself until now. So, you give in, words tumbling out against your better judgment.
You clear your throat, straighten your back against the chair, your tone evasive, “I technically am not a virgin, but… When we— did it, he um… he got his tip in, but— God, this is embarrassing.”
“C’mon, tell us!”
You sigh, pressing forward with an explanation they do not deserve, “He came, like, two seconds after. So, I felt nothing.”
The laughter that erupts is immediate, your friends covering their mouths in shock and amusement. You can only chuckle nervously, shrinking in your seat with a deep, liberating exhale.
Yunjin pats your shoulder beside you, “That’s so sad, babe. We need to find you a real man.”
A strange sense of relief courses through you, the adrenaline from finally being acknowledged and validated by your friends swelling within. You don’t know why, but you keep talking, oversharing, feeding into the newfound attention, “Oh, I've been waiting for one in particular.”
You quickly become the center of attention for different reasons than the previous ones, now. Voices overlap, but you dismiss them all with a playful shake of your head, giggles bubbling up as you try to evade their questions.
But just as quickly as the moment came, it fades when you glance to the side, and your smile drops.
Jeongguk’s eyes meet yours immediately.
The intensity of the gaze knocks the breath from your lungs, and you immediately straighten in your seat.
He’s been watching the entire time, arms crossed, muscle in his jaw tensing as his tongue presses against the inside of his cheek. There’s an unusual frustration etched into his expression, a subtle irritation with your friends’ behavior. But it’s more than that.
Your confession had softly revealed your inexperience. Your innocence. The untarnished parts of you he’s only beginning to realize he wants to corrupt.
Truth is, he’s known for a long time. Longer than he’d like to admit, really. But he’s never let himself feel it fully until now. It wasn’t something that hit him all at once. No, it crept up on him slowly, over the months. He’s always known you were beautiful, in that distant, untouchable way. You’re his daughter’s best friend, after all.
But he couldn’t help his eyes from lingering on you a little too long when you’d come over to hang out with Areum, how he’d feel the tension of his work day melt when he’d let himself be coddled by the warmth of your helping actions, the way his muscles would instead tense when he’d catch sight of you lounging by the pool.
He’d been good at keeping it under bay. But you weren’t subtle, not even the slightest, and it all made it harder. Even more when you’ve been nothing but the proof that angels exist, and at some point he convinced himself you were sent on Earth to fill the void he felt his whole life, with your unconditional care towards his daughter and your pupils widening whenever they’d land on his.
Maybe it was seeing you tonight, all grown up and standing there in that dress, hugging your figure deliciously. How you carried yourself, confident yet unsure, mature yet untouched.
Hearing you talk about your inexperience, about that brief, awkward encounter with a boy who clearly didn’t know what he was doing. Watching you squirm under your friends’ teasing questions, witnessing how you tried to explain yourself.
It’s like it all clicks into place for him. And for the first time, he’s letting himself acknowledge it.
Jeongguk wants you.
He knows it’s wrong. So wrong. He's never felt this way about someone so much younger than him, and yet, the need to be the first one to truly touch you, to show you what it means to be wanted by a real man, makes his blood run hot.
Yet, he feels disgusting. Selfish, his stomach swirling with nerves. Dirty, his fingers twitching and begging to free his insides from such feelings.
There’s simply no ignoring it anymore, no pretending like you’re just Areum’s friend. That boundary he set in his mind is starting to blur. He's old enough to know better, but old enough to know exactly what he wants.
Your eyes widen with terror, meeting Jeongguk’s own hardened gaze. He wants to tell you, wants you to know, but the way your startled expression lingers in his narrowed eyes makes him hesitate.
The contact is abruptly interrupted when one of Areum’s friends, an older kid she’s met through her dad’s colleague, crashes into you from behind, draping his weight over your shoulders.
You struggle not to stumble forward, holding yourself on the arms of your chair while you look to the side, and immediately try to pull away when you realize the unwanted proximity.
But you’re weaker than the boy’s embrace, holding you still and wiggling his eyebrows, his tone playful as he ruffles your hair, “Is it me?”
The people around you laugh, but the way your body stiffens, the clear discomfort in your eyes — Jeongguk notices. And he also notices (reluctantly) the ugly feeling making space in his stomach the more that guy’s face moves closer to yours. His jaw twitches, the muscle at his temple ticking.
He can’t just stand there doing nothing anymore.
The sudden sound of the door to the garden opening catches everyone’s attention, and your gaze flies over in that direction.
Jeongguk steps out, presence commanding, and Areum’s eyes grow wide, instantly sensing something wrong in the way her father is looking at the scene. His eyes are too dark, too sharp, and if no one else detects it, you and his daughter surely do.
Still, the taller boy behind you moves up again, taking a step back from your seat, and Jeongguk seems to reserve him a look you find hard to decipher.
“Areum,” he calls, soft but firm. She’s quick to move toward him, and you can’t help but try to listen in on what he’s saying to her.
But the voices rise again, loud and boisterous, filling the space with chatter, drowning out any chance you had of overhearing. You sigh, returning to your slumped position on the chair. As you do, you can’t ignore how all the girls around you are sneaking glances at him, their giggles piercing through the air as they whisper among themselves.
Jeongguk has always had a certain effect on people, and tonight is no different. You hear some of their comments, but they don’t fully register in your mind. All you can focus on is the bitter feeling rising in your chest.
You bite the inside of your cheek, fingers fidgeting with the hem of your dress. It sickens you, the way you have to share the image of him with everyone else. You wish only your eyes had been granted the gift of looking at him, of admiring the way his shirt stretches across his chest or how his hair falls perfectly, even when tousled. Instead, he’s a spectacle for everyone to enjoy, and you hate it.
When Areum returns, it’s with a slightly slumped posture and her energy deflated. Behind her, Mr. Jeon stands with his arms crossed, a small, condescending smile tugging at his lips.
Areum’s voice is low as she announces, “The party’s over, guys.”
The subtle groans of disappointment echo around you as your friends gather their things, saying their goodbyes and slowly trickling out, only after trying to argue about it, giving up when met with no possible negotiation. Once the last guest has left, it’s just the three of you, left to clean up the remnants of the night in the dimly lit garden.
The air is tense on your skin. You can feel it in every movement, every glance that passes between you and Jeongguk, though he barely looks at you now. His focus is elsewhere. On the mess, on Areum, on anything but you. It’s silent for a while as each one of you picks up their own task. Teamwork seems to be efficient, every area of the backyard slowly regaining its original aspect.
Until Areum yawns dramatically, stretching her arms above her head as she makes her way over to you and her father. She mumbles, blinking heavily. "’M so sleepy."
Jeongguk raises an eyebrow. He teases lightly, voice tinged with a hint of amusement. "Oh, really? You’re just gonna leave all this mess behind?"
For a moment, you and Areum both freeze, glancing at each other with wide eyes, unsure if he’s serious. However, you don’t seem to notice Jeongguk’s lips curling into a soft, knowing smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
“Just kidding,” he chuckles, tone warm now, the joke clear. “Go sleep, c’mon. It’s past your bedtime.”
Areum sighs with exaggerated relief, rolling her eyes before stepping forward to wrap her arms around her dad in a loose hug. She mumbles into his chest, “I’m not a kid anymore, dad. I don’t have a bedtime.”
He chuckles with a lightness foreign to you until that moment, and he leans down, pressing his lips gently to the top of her head, voice a low and tender whisper, “Whatever you say. Happy birthday, Reumie.”
It’s such a simple moment, nothing grand or elaborate. Still, you watch them with stars in your eyes, completely captivated by this rare portrayal of vulnerability from Mr. Jeon. You almost feel like an intruder, yet you keep contradicting yourself when you can’t help but want to be part of it, too. Want to bask in his love, the one he keeps hidden but the same one that shapes him whole. That fills him from head to toe, never spilling, always quiet. Makes him the brave man you only know through your best friend’s admiring eyes, never from his words.
He doesn’t like talking about himself, but you’d kill to know what truly goes through his mind, even for just a second. You’d gladly settle in a cramped house in his brain, pay rent and everything.
When Areum finally pulls away and turns to you, her expression sleepy but content, she asks, “You coming with me?”
You hesitate, glancing at the mess still surrounding you. You speak with a small, reassuring smile, only looking at your friend, “I'll be there in a minute. I wanna help clean up first.”
She just shrugs, too tired to argue, and heads inside. Jeongguk's eyes follow her briefly before flicking back to you.
His lips part as if he wants to say something. Maybe to insist that there’s no need to help, that you should join Areum inside and get a good night's sleep. But the words never come. Instead, he watches you silently for a second longer, before turning his attention back to the garden.
Now, it’s just the two of you.
The quiet between you isn’t uncomfortable, but it’s heavy. The subtle hum of the night seems louder now without the chatter of party guests, and the soft rustling of leaves in the breeze fills the air as you move around the small round tables, readjusting the chairs.
You’re trying to focus on the task at hand, but your mind keeps drifting to other regions. In your distraction, you clumsily trip over your own feet, your breath catching as you stumble forward.
Before you can fall, though, a strong hand grips your arm, steadying you instantly.
“Oops. Careful, little one,” it’s Jeongguk’s deep voice murmuring close to your ear, the warmth of his touch grounding you.
Your face flushes immediately, heat spreading across your cheeks and down your neck. “Sorry,” you whisper, glancing up at him through your lashes, feeling ridiculously small under his intense gaze.
“It’s okay,” he instantly replies, tone so gentle it almost makes your heart falter.
Silence falls again, but this time, it’s thicker, and maybe even uncomfortable. You both remain still for a moment, his hand loosely gripping your arm, and you feel yourself burn where his fingers rest. His thumb brushes your skin lightly, a subtle, almost imperceptible gesture, but it’s enough to make you gulp audibly.
Finally, he releases you, stepping back slightly, but his eyes never leave yours, "Thanks for making my daughter happy today. I really appreciate that. I appreciate you."
Your mind races, trying to find the right words to respond, but all you can manage is a stutter, “Oh. I—”
His voice is firmer when he gently cuts you off, “Go sleep now. I'll finish here.”
You want to protest, but the way he’s looking at you — dark eyes locking onto yours, holding you in place even with his hand now by his side — makes it impossible.
There’s something about the way he’s speaking, like he’s being careful with his words, almost spelling them out, making sure you’re paying attention to each one, “If you need anything, you know where to find me. Yeah?”
You swallow hard, nodding slowly. His gaze is unwavering, and it feels like he’s saying something more than just the words themselves, something you can’t quite grasp yet. You stammer, “Right. Yes. I—I’ll… goodnight.”
“Goodnight.”
It’s not exactly a good night for you. In a sense, maybe it is. You always welcome dreams like these when they decide to visit. But right now, it feels more than a little awkward.
Worst timing ever. You’re lying next to Areum, the daughter of the very man who’s making you wet with just a few flashes of imagery dancing behind your closed eyelids.
At first, it’s soft, almost serene. You see a beach, engulfed in warm, blurry tones that blend together like watercolors left to bleed in the sun. The sea is flat, unmoving, and glimmers like pearls under the flaming light.
A weight presses down on your exposed thigh. The sensation feels so vivid that it pulls you deeper into the dream, and as you glance down, you instantly recognize the large, familiar hand resting there.
Jeongguk's hand. His left one. On the fourth finger, a gold ring.
When you lift your head, his face greets you with a wide, unusual smile. His hair is wet, slicked back as if he’s just come out of the water, droplets clinging to the tips. He bites his lip, and you see it. A double piercing sits on the side of his mouth, the silver studs gleaming as he plays with them using the tip of his tongue. Your breath catches in your throat. You don’t just see it there. On his eyebrow, a matching piercing catches the sunlight, giving him a rebellious edge.
You remember them from old pictures Areum showed you once. Jeongguk, in his younger days, rougher, wilder, and undeniably charming.
It must have left a deep impression on you because your subconscious has dug it up now, weaving it into this dream. Deep in your slumber, you unconsciously whine.
His hand kneads the soft skin of your leg, and his grin stretches wider, eyes crinkling into familiar crescents, but with an edge you’ve never seen on him before.
"You wanna take another bath?" His voice is husky in your ear, filled with suggestion. He's leaning in now, closer, his fingers drawing lazy circles on your skin. Before you can say anything, his hand slides higher, fingers grazing the hem of your swimsuit. "Come on. Just you and me."
Jeongguk’s hand is still playing with the laces of your bikini, and he’s slow and teasing as he pulls one of them. When he fully undoes it, you’re bare in front of him.
But he doesn’t look down just yet. He keeps staring in your eyes, his smile gone now, replaced with something more serious, more focused.
Jeongguk leans closer to your ear, pillowy lips brushing your lobe, and it feels way too real when he whispers, “Let me make you feel good.”
It’s with a jolt that you wake up, the low sound still echoing in the depths of your brain, and you struggle to take in your surroundings at first. On your right, Areum is sleeping soundly, even snoring softly. You'll tease her about it in the morning.
If the thought initially puts a smile on your face, it morphs into a frown when you register the reason why you’re now awake, and you brim with guilt. You have to get away from your best friend. Need to get away from your brain, if possible. Wash it all with a glass of cold water.
You make sure not to cause too much noise as you slowly sit up, the covers falling from your figure and the air welcoming you with goosebumps on your skin. Your naked feet tentatively touch the ground and you force yourself to stand on them, padding on the floor and exiting the room, gently closing the door behind your shoulders.
At first, you only hear it. Faint, muffled noises; fussing; heavy panting; groans.
You blink rapidly, convinced your hazy brain is still cozily wrapped around the blankets, finding it hard to let go of the images that had flashed behind your eyelids and adapt to the new state of consciousness.
But as you make your way to the stairs, the sounds get closer, and more vivid. It's not just your mind playing evil games anymore.
It’s shushed moans, and eager whines. And they seem awfully close to how you’d always imagined Mr. Jeon would sound like. In that situation.
Having lost control over your own brain a long time ago, it feels like you’re now being ordered around by it, no freedom of choice whatsoever.
Your feet move on their own, following the source of that delicious music, and you swear your eyes get teary with joy when you find that the door was left ajar.
You feel delirious. The small gap is more than enough to give you a view into what you never thought you’d have the honor of witnessing: the man of all your desires has his hand wrapped around the base of his cock, squeezing it, then dragging it up and down in slow movements that you just know are torturing him, from the way he harshly bites his lower lip, to the way his furrowed eyebrows almost meet at the bridge of his nose, eyes focused on his doings.
Nonetheless, he loves it. His mouth opens every time he brushes the tip of his thick dick with his palm, releasing small whines, followed by quiet moans when he uses his other hand to play with his balls.
He cusses repeatedly, then grips his base and halts his movements. Only to go over the punishing pattern again, bringing himself closer to the edge then retraining when he feels like stepping over it.
The sight of Mr. Jeon edging himself makes your knees weak. It takes over you physically, you genuinely have to find support in the wall beside you.
You need to be there with him. You need it to be your hand; need him to guide it just the way he likes it; need him to teach you how to please him. His groans make your head spin, and you need to get closer.
You’re not thinking when you instinctively take a step towards the slightly open door, but when you do, the floor cracks under you.
You’re paralysed. In the silence of the house, wrapped in night time, the otherwise small sound is amplified, and he stops his hand.
With the little power you still possess over your actions, you move your back to the wall beside the door. Your breaths are ragged, too overwhelmed with the mixture of fear and lust, and you think of running away to hide but a huge weight is chaining you down, and you find yourself unable to move.
You can only register fussing from the other side, the soft thump of his feet on the floor and the door opening alarmingly. When he looks to the side, he’s met with his expression mirrored on your small face, your eyes wide but willing themselves to keep looking in his.
If you were to look down, you’re not sure you could keep yourself composed, knowing his cock is hard and unattended in his pajama pants.
“____? What are you doing up?” His voice quickly takes on the calm that characterizes him so well, instilling some of it in your startled figure.
Still, you stutter all throughout your answer, making it clear what you just spied into with the way your face changes color, “I— Water. I wanted— There’s no, huh, water in the fridge.”
Mr. Jeon does a weak job at hiding the confused amusement on his features. Nonetheless, he nods, a small grin on his lips while he says nothing, just walks to the stairs and makes his way down them. You follow hastily, careful not to trip.
There's plenty of water in the fridge, but he doesn’t question it. He takes out a bottle and pours a glass for you, sliding it over the counter.
You take the smallest sip, afraid you might choke with the way he stands facing you, staring so intensely into your orbs.
When you put the still full glass down, he smirks. You see his hands gripping the edge of the table in front of him, “Nightmare?”
The depth of his voice translates into heat pooling right in your lower stomach and staining your shorts. You're a mess just from the blurred sight of him. You shake your head, “More like… a weird dream.”
He smiles taut, having to break the prolonged eye contact and look elsewhere, his grip getting tighter and his patience wearing thin.
He won’t be able to control himself much longer if he doesn’t get out of this kitchen, especially with the effects of your effortless charm flooding down his pleading dick.
You’re in front of him, eyes fond with a feeling that scares him, only the counter dividing your bodies, and you’re wearing the tiniest satin shorts paired with a white tank top that leaves little to the imagination, the cut dangerously low and your nipples evident through the material.
He’s a gone man.
His eyes no longer anchoring you, your gaze automatically travels to where you shouldn’t be looking, for your own sanity. The outline of his cock is so delicious, it makes your mouth water with want.
You’re not sure if it’s your own eyes deceiving you, but you swear you can see it throb, and at that moment you realize he’s not wearing any underwear. Just thin, loose pants covering his length.
You gulp, clenching around nothing. You feel him sigh, and the sound makes your head spin with greater force.
He looks back at you, but you’re too enthralled by your current view, the effects of it almost completely shutting out your hearing and your rational thinking, as you round the counter and leave his words hung in the air, "I'm sorry for… what you probably saw. Should’ve closed the door.”
Apology silently dismissed, or simply ignored (why would he even apologize for blessing you with such an unforgettable sight?) you now stand next to him. As he turns to you, you’re faced with his chest, and you have to bend your head upwards to meet his curious eyes.
Your body has long forgotten to trust the thin amount of rationality that could still be found in your brain, and that’s how you find yourself leading your hand to cup his cock through his pajamas.
His face is stoic, staring at you intensely. He doesn’t startle, doesn’t gasp, doesn’t move away. But you feel him. If the contact does something to him, he doesn’t show it. He keeps looking down at you, in your eyes.
Then, he speaks, his voice steady, “What are you doing.”
You’re suddenly aware of your actions, and you fall victim to them, feeling small because of his stern, composed gaze while you feel like melting under it.
Your voice is frail, barely a whisper, too weak to sound as convinced as you truly are, and your words come out slurred, “Wanna help you.”
He doesn’t break, doesn’t seem affected by your desperation, but his pupils are blown out, knuckles white from grasping the counter, “You already did enough.”
Your hand is still on his clothed dick, unmoving. No one dares break the moment, though. If anything, being this close to him, feeling him while you both search for something in each other’s eyes, is only spurring you further.
You get on your tip toes, your perky nipples brushing against his chest, your voice low while you tilt your head to the side, “What were you thinking of? I'll be that for you.”
Immediately, his hand flies over yours. He doesn’t move it, just holds it still. The look in his eyes is a lot darker, his eyelids droopy, his jaw clenched, “Stop this.”
The electrifying spark that buzzes you the moment you feel his skin travels from your hand to your whole body, and it significantly weakens you.
You don’t know if you fall to your knees because they genuinely give up on you, but it’s how you find yourself facing his hardness, your eyes never leaving his glossy ones, highlighted by the dim light shining through the curtains of his kitchen.
“___. Get up.” There’s a tremor in his voice, and the hand that was blocking yours now falls by his side, twitching.
You see it in his eyes. Sense it in the tension of his muscles. He's holding back. But you don’t want him to resist you.
“Please,” your beg is muffled and quiet, your nose brushing against his length and following a torturous path that makes him hiss.
He groans deliriously, willing himself to tear his orbs off your big, pleading ones staring up at him, but he doesn’t do anything to move you away.
“Fuck,” the chuckle that follows is feverish, his body on fire with the forbidden, but so wanted touch, “Don’t make me have to reject you, doll.”
“You don’t have to,” you’re unexpectedly quick in your answers, your conscience coming back to you but letting it be taken over by a dark feeling, the one that makes you kiss his tip through the thin material, and lick along his length, finding his eyes, "I want you.”
Jeongguk inhales, his lower lip bleeding with the harsh biting, and he swears his knees are shaking with the effort of keeping even the slightest, thinnest thread of sanity intact.
He wishes he could stop you. Knows he should. But he can't. He can only watch as your slim fingers hook under the hem of his light pants and lead them to pool down his ankles.
The way his cock springs free and brushes your smooth, pure face makes him huff out a deep exhale, his jaw clenched and eyebrows furrowed as he takes in your eyes widening at the sight of his length.
Mr. Jeon is long. And thick. He's veiny, and perfectly shaved. It looks almost unrealistic, but he’s in front of you in all his glory and he throbs. Leaks pretty precum to coat his angry tip.
He doesn’t know how he manages to speak, especially when you look up at him through your droopy eyelids, pupils blown and tongue ready to take him.
His voice is rough, as if it wants to stay stuck in his throat, but he forces one last warning out, “___. Don’t do it.”
Any and all kinds of inhibitions are nonexistent the moment you attempt a kitten lip at his wet tip, and the simple action makes his head fall backwards, a way too loud growl escaping him. His breaths are heavy, broad chest moving with them as he looks down at you again, too tempted to look elsewhere.
He curses as soon as he does, his lust-filled orbs swimming in your equally craving ones, and he believes this view is crafted by the hands of a God, not slightly comparable to anything his mind came up with back in his room, not too long ago.
The reason why he’s gotten rock hard under his covers, it’s you. The yearning he couldn’t suppress anymore, the hunger making him salivate, the need to be consumed by your love, the desire to be touched by you, to be cured by your innocence, only to taint it.
He’s thirsty, wants to drink all of you in. Wants to finally have you, taste you, feel you. He's tired of fighting it.
Jeongguk doesn’t know how to decipher his heart doing literal flips in his chest when you fully take his cock in your mouth, and he lets out a sound he’s never heard his own self ever produce. It’s high-pitched, whiny, delirious, and it leads himself to subtly push himself forward, to bury his length in your throat.
You inevitably choke at the new sensation, your eyes fluttering shut to keep the tears welling up under your eyelids from spilling out, but you go relentlessly, just as hungry.
You tentatively bob your head up and down his length, messily taking him as best as you could, probably accidentally scraping him with your teeth a few times, and you try to make up for it with your swirling tongue, slurping thirstily.
He almost coos at your eagerness, and as badly as he wants to bask in the sensation, having to keep himself from pounding into your mouth, he holds your silky hair in a ponytail and gently pushes you away.
When you find him again, your eyes are glossy and your eyebrows drawn up with worry.
You don’t want this moment to end. You don’t want your insecurities to be proven right, don’t want him to ward you off, to still think of you as nothing more than a childish girl with an evident crush. You're on your knees for him to finally see you.
Jeongguk instantly reads your thoughts.
His voice is quick to sooth you, a sweet smile painting his face with an expression you rarely see on him. It's soft, just like his voice, “Come up here, angel.”
You want to listen to him, want to follow his every order. But you’re not sure how to when he’s regarding you with a care you’d never thought would be directed at you, one that empties you of any strength. When the pet name rolling off his tongue that easily seems so natural, you want to think it’s all he’s ever seen you as.
With a delicate tug at your hair, he leads you on your feet again. Still, you’re weak, your chin falling on his chest as you look at him through your lashes like he’s hung every single star in the sky.
His hand leaves your locks only to cup your face, promptly helping you stand straight to study your features.
If he didn’t know better, he’d say you’re high off the strongest substance you could find. Your pupils cover your orbs in a dark, wide circle, a lazy smile on your pink lips as you let yourself be handled by him, no control over your body, almost falling over his bigger one again before he steadies you by your hips.
He lets out an amused chuckle at the state you’re in because of him, and he hopes you know just how much you’re affecting him, too. He wants to swallow you, pill after pill, overdose on you.
When he’s sure you don’t need his help keeping you still anymore, leading your palms to rest on his wide shoulders, he takes your face in his big hands and forces you to swim in the intensity of his gaze.
His words are spoken slowly, a low whisper fanning over your lips, “If I kiss you now, I won't be able to control myself anymore.”
Your eyes jump relentlessly between his own orbs and his mouth, the latter winning the battle when you fixate on it, and speak just as weakly, “Please, kiss me.”
You barely manage to get the words out before Jeongguk is all over you. He devours you, pushing your lips open and finding your tongue, playing with it in a mess of slick and heavy breaths.
His fingers travel through every angle of your body they can find, pulling your face impossibly closer by your nape, leaving goosebumps along your bare arms wrapping around his neck, falling down your torso and squeezing harshly as they rest by your sides.
Your moan is inevitable when his palms reach down the curve of your ass and shove you against him. You feel his hardness meet the softness of your lower belly, his wet tip poking at it and making him hiss on your lips.
He does his best to swallow all your sounds, your muffled whines and whimpers his favorite meal as of now. It's a wince of slight pain that you let out as he positions you in between his body and the counter, the border pressing on your lower back.
When he moves from your kiss, even with your lungs being unable to breathe anymore and begging for a break, your head follows his movements to try and bring him back on you again.
The chuckle he lets out is almost belittling, the right side of your face being completely engulfed by his palm to put distance between your mouths, his other hand keeping you still by your waist, and his own hips push against you.
You quickly glance down to where your bodies meet, and you whimper when you take in the way his cock is just above your core, his balls brushing against your clit. You only need to lift yourself a little forward to fully feel him.
But it’s like he instantly knows what’s making your head spin, his grip tighter but still mindful not to hurt you. The sudden squeeze has your eyes finding his, feeling ridiculously smaller under the weight of his heavy gaze.
He makes sure you keep your whole focus on him, and as much as registering the way your orbs are glossy with anticipation and desire is making him almost regret his next words, he lets them out, steady but soft, in your face.
“You had your fun, baby. Now, you’re going to listen to me. Hm?”
This time, your reaction comes promptly following his request. You're hanging from his lips, tracing their every move and sound, immediately nodding at the order.
It’s not enough, and Jeongguk ensures to sound a bit firmer, ”Use your words.”
”Yes, Mr. Jeon.”
The way your response rolls off your tongue with seemingly no hesitation, your pupils still on his, the words you choose to say, make him let out an amused chuckle.
Your eyes widen, and he drinks in your state, cheeks flushed and lower lip trembling. You need to bite it in order for it to stop shaking when he narrows his eyes, his left palm rising from your hip and finding its way under your top, his remark making you startle, ”You’re such a bad girl. Aren’t you?”
Jeongguk makes up for the way more tears seem to well along your bottom lashes by cupping your small breast in his larger hand, swirling his thumb around your nipple, and you need to fight against the loud moan traveling its way up your throat, the choked sound getting stuck as your mouth hangs open, your eyebrows furrowed.
It only takes some more of his degrading tone for you to let out an unashamedly loud noise, his fingertips pinching your nipple, ”Calling me that only because it gets you off. Doesn’t it? You’re not so innocent after all, angel.”
He quickly swallows your sounds with his lips on yours, and both of you can’t help but hum lowly at the contact. Jeongguk thinks he could keep kissing you for hours on end. But he badly wants to feel every other inch of your body, too.
Unexpectedly, the kiss gets broken when he turns your body around with ease, your back now pressing against his front, and you steady your shaking figure by planting your hands on the counter.
The access to your ear comes effortlessly, he just needs to bend his head down to cover your height difference and make sure his whispered words meet you as close as possible, “I’ll give you what you want. But you need to be quiet and good for me, understood?”
You’re not sure if you should use your voice or stay silent, but your body doesn’t give you the chance to ponder over it before letting out a whiny Yes. You’re not exactly being quiet, but can he blame you?
The man you’d get to talk to for more than five minutes only in your dreams is now promising you he’s going to give you what you want. And his cock is perfectly nestled in between your ass cheeks. You're positive you’ll have to throw your shorts right in the bin after he’s done with you.
Though, the scoff resounding in your ear makes you regret not even trying to lower your volume. You really want to be good for him. Don’t want to disappoint him.
That’s why when he taps two fingers under your chin, without him having to express it for you, you part your lips open, tongue out. From the corner of your eye, you see the side of his face scrunched with a long dimple before he shoves the digits inside your wet mouth.
You instantly wrap yourself around his long fingers, coating them in your warm slick, and you can tell it’s affecting him with the way the hold on your hip tightens, and he shifts between your thighs.
With your tongue swirling around the two digits, your eyes search for his face. Looking up at him through your lashes, you clench around nothing when you take in the effortless way he towers over you, his body engulfing your whole smaller figure.
The sinful eye contact leads him to spur you on further, his voice rough with desire, “That’s right. Suck on them like you would my cock.”
You hum deeply at the encouragement, fluttering your eyelids shut as you energetically bob up and down along his fingers. You think you can still feel the taste of his precum lingering on your tongue, and you whine, wishing you could have him again.
The noise gets cut from your throat when he forces his digits out, the slicky sound lustful, and it makes him groan lowly.
With his other hand, he delicately pushes your head forward to bend you over the marble counter, the same one where hours ago he passed you his glass of wine to take a sip from.
The surface is cold against your cheek and he’s out of your vision as he stands straight. Not being able to see what he’s doing, the expression on his face as you lay folded for him, makes the anticipation flood even stronger in your veins.
You feel him pull your shorts down enough to reveal yourself to him, hear him hiss as he’s enthralled by the way your pussy glistens, all for his eyes to admire.
The curse that follows is instant, “Fuck. No panties?”
You’re embarrassed for your straightforward bareness, whimpering at his surprise with your fist tightening and your nails imprinting crescents in your palms, but you’re also so impatient to feel his touch.
Tentatively, you wiggle for him, hoping to brush against his length, but it’s to no effort as he instantly stills your movements with a hand on your lower back.
He scoffs incredulously, feeling your bare ass against his palm, “It’s like you knew this would happen. You dirty, naughty girl. Always giving me those eyes.”
It’s light, the spank that meets the side of your butt, but you gasp nonetheless. You need to bite your lower lip harshly in order to suppress the loud moan from escaping your throat, and you’re sure it bleeds when he strokes the spot he hit.
The hand soothing you now travels to your front, torturously putting pressure on your sensitive stomach and following a slow pattern, only to reach your wet core.
He finally touches you where you’ve been needing him the most, and you both groan when he uses his already soaked pointer and ring finger to spread your lips, his middle one tracing your slit.
You inhale deeply as he repeats the motion, and when you exhale you can’t help small whines from leaving you, the pleasure already too overwhelming.
You feel like passing out when his body weight presses on you again, his mouth directly on your lobe, the intention in his voice dripping on your skin, “You think I wouldn’t notice? You know how hard my cock gets everytime I see you in these tiny clothes of yours, huh? You’re quite literally the death of me, doll.”
Then, it’s like all your senses come back to you the moment he pushes his digit in, and he immediately reaches around you to put his other hand over your mouth the second he sees it opening, your eyes rolling up.
You cry in his palm, the sound muffled with his fingers tightening under your jaw, his body still leaning on yours. He whispers sweet nothings in your ear and stills his middle finger inside you, getting you used to his presence, “Shh, princess. Good baby, you’re doing perfect.”
The contrast to his earlier shaming tone only makes you whine more, your eyes squeezing closed to try and keep the noises in. You’re sure you bite his palm when he starts moving inside you, the finger curling tentatively and soon being joined by another one.
You shake your head weakly, feeling yourself reach delirium, and you manage to stammer out, “Can’t— can’t do this.”
“You can baby, c’mon. You wanna be a good girl f’me, don’t you?” His tone is still low, warm breath fanning over your nape, and you melt under the sudden change in attitude.
You nod, not because you believe you can actually get through this without your heart failing and the whole neighborhood hearing you in the process, but because you do want to be his good girl.
He hums, “That’s right. I need to stretch you out if you want to take my cock.”
You choke in his wrap, now looser around your face, surprised at his words, and you clench hard at the mention of his cock inside you. You throw your head backwards in search of more of his proximity, and you mumble nonsense, your brain completely melted, “Yes! Want your dick.”
“I know you do, little one,” with your head nestled between the crook of his neck, his hand now falls to your throat, and he holds you gently by it while his fingers pick up a faster pace.
He's ruthless as he moves them inside you, effortlessly finding your sweet spot with a curl of his long, tattooed digits, and you whimper at the foreign sensation, unable to moan like you really want to.
You feel like screaming the more he keeps going, the only possible reaction to what is happening to you. One moment ago you were dreaming of this, and now it’s your reality.
Mr. Jeon is fingering you and calling you his good girl. His large figure is behind your smaller one bent over the counter, his palm around your throat, his hard length pressing against your ass.
The moment he uses his thumb to flick at your clit, you arch your back into him and you hear him fight to suppress a surprised moan.
“Shit. You’re so impatient, sugar. Dripping around my fingers. Wanna taste your sweet juice, can I?” It’s a rhetorical question, hushed slurredly in your ear, because after he lets it out his fingers leave your hole, and find a new home on his warm tongue.
He purposefully moves your chin to make you a witness of his sinful action, humming deeply around the taste of you, his eyes fluttering shut, his digits popping out drenched.
Your mouth hangs, your tongue unconsciously peeking out as if asking to be made a participant, but Jeongguk only smirks and stands straight once again, his wet hand leaving another light spank on your ass cheek, “Turn around, sweets.”
You do as asked, making sure your palms are still steadying your weight on the counter now behind you, afraid your legs alone won’t be able to. You soon find out you won’t have to put much effort into that when Jeongguk lifts you with ease and sits you on the surface, your slickness meeting the cold marble.
You don’t have to lift your head to look at him anymore, your heights now the same. But finding yourself directly in front of his hardened gaze makes you feel even more intimidated.
Especially when he traces your inner thigh, his eyes never leaving yours, “Every time you stand up to leave after dinner, you always leave a puddle on my chairs. And I’m left to clean it up.”
You swallow audibly at the accusation, and you can feel your eyes water once again, biting your lips to conceal the shame.
He only grins amusedly at your state, the tip of his tongue coming out to play with his lower lip. The hand on your leg now forces it to move to the side, his face only getting closer to yours, his tone deeper, "I've thought about licking it up, you know? But then I always stopped myself, because I knew I'd get to taste your pretty, wet pussy.”
You gasp, a shaky moan leaving you uncontrollably, and your fingers hover over his figure, wanting to find support in him but unsure whether to touch him.
He finds your mouth in a short kiss, almost reassuring, but he’s back to spitting sins the moment he lowers his face between your spread legs, and the way he looks up at you is almost scandalous. He looks devilish, his orbs visible through his lashes, his tongue wetting his lips. He takes your uncertain hand and places it between his tousled hair, directing himself to you, instructing you how to use him.
He presses a peck above your clit, still drinking in your reactions, his smile wicked, “I knew you’d crumble soon. You little minx. Going after your best friend’s dad. So naughty.”
Your head is thrown backwards at his words, ones that only add to the pleasure that takes over you when he latches at your pussy, the wet sounds ungodly.
The shame and guilt mixing in the back of your mind generate a profane sense of bliss you’d never think you could reach, and even though deep down you feel dirty being confronted with the truth he sputtered out so easily, you can’t help getting off to it right now.
Jeongguk is ravenous as he finds your drenched lips, lapping furiously at them and drinking the juice that continuously drips out. He flicks the tip of his tongue up and down your swollen clit, and your hand that he himself put on top of his head now tugs at his curls, forcing him closer to you. He’s trapped, your legs squeezing around his head, his nose nuzzled in your slit, and he can’t stop the hand that reaches to stroke his pleading dick.
You think you hear him mumble something along the lines of taste so good as he teases your hole with his wet muscle, and you’re a gone woman the moment you look down, your eyes fluttering open.
His own are closed, brows furrowed in deep concentration, his nose relentlessly grinding against your sensitive nub, and the way he seems so affected by the act of pleasuring you breaks something inside you.
You feel it begin to crumble when his tattooed hand reaches up to lift your top just enough to expose your breasts, nipples hardening with the cold air and the stimulation, and you swear they hurt deliciously when he starts kneading at your boob, fondling it with care.
The deep hum generated from his throat vibrates against you, and the flick of his thumb around the center of your tit matched with the way your clit is being continuously abused unexpectedly leads you to your orgasm.
It’s fast, unannounced, and you find support in his hair, your body taking over your brain and relentlessly grinding against Jeongguk’s face, suffocated between you, unable to stop reaching for the heavenly, and so awaited high.
Your whines are frantically high pitched, but the moment he feels you cum all over his mouth everything around him disappears except you, and all he cares about is slurping you, drinking you as you let it all out because of him.
He pants, breathless, opening his eyes to witness your climax, to admire you breaking under his doings, chest swelling with pride and a primal sense of protectiveness.
When he hears you whimper the more he keeps sucking on your clit, your slim fingers pulling at his locks, he finally lifts himself up.
On the path he follows to come back up to meet your face, he finds your nipple with a sweet kiss, his tongue teasing your nub, and he smiles against it, teeth gently pinching it. When seeking with his eyes for your reaction he sees your own rolling back. Next, his mouth is on yours, smearing your wetness all over your lips and mixing it with his spit on your tongue, connecting in a frantic, hungry dance.
His forehead rests against yours when he breaks the kiss, breaths heavy, the lazy grin on his face the only thing you can focus on, hanging on his gentle words, “Did so good, babe. Came so hard all over me.”
Your eyes inevitably fall down to his cock, painfully hard against his stomach, the tip angry and slicked with precum.
You feel your core buzz, kissing him to conceal the unshameful desire building up so fast again, but still you can’t help from mumbling against him, “Wan’ you to fuck me.”
The hum of pleasure coming from his throat reverberates on your lips, and he smiles at your confession. Even chuckles, one hand resting at your hip and sliding you closer.
“That what you want, baby?” Your legs wrapping around him, he kisses along your neck and travels to your collarbones, leaving small bites to keep himself from marking you like he truly wants to.
He slips his palms under your thighs and lifts you up the counter effortlessly, your legs squeezing tighter around him in order to keep yourself balanced. The new position has his cock perfectly meeting your core, your slit brushing against his tip as he walks you two over the living room couch, his mouth promptly swallowing your whimpers.
When he lays you on the sofa, he straightens himself to fully admire you. You're sprawled for him, your hair framing your head like a halo, the sweat pearling your forehead adding to your angelic state.
Your hands are on either side of your face, fingers dainty and slender, and your tank top is lifted up enough to show him your small breasts, slightly spilling from the sides with the new position.
Your shorts still rest under your ass, and with a swift motion he fully takes them off you, giving him access to your center. But the attention is taken away from your wet cunt when he lets his eyes come back up to your face, your cheek resting on your shoulders, trying to hide your embarrassment at his ravenous observing.
He smiles, becoming impatient with the feeling that only grows inside him, and he walks out of his pants still pooled down his ankles, taking off his loose t-shirt and letting it fall on the ground.
Your eyes widen at his sculpted physique, now finally in front of you, his buff dimensions intimidating you, especially when your orbs follow his V line and put you face to face with his huge cock, so close to your watering hole. He teases it with his length, sliding it up and down your slit, then slapping it against your clit. You arch your back, groaning.
“Am I the real man you’ve been waiting for? You wanna be fucked by this big man, don’t you?” His sinful words only make you nod dumbly, becoming potty under his control.
At your eagerness, he wastes no time. Aligning himself with your hole, he enters you. The stretch is deliciously painful, his tip boldly splitting you open for him. He knows your wail is coming, so he lowers himself on you to block your sounds with his mouth. But, truly, he’s the one that needs to be silenced.
The moment he feels your tightness around his bare dick, he growls. His sounds grow more desperate as he sinks himself deeper, the grip on your waist enough to wreck you, and you’re expecting it to leave a mark
You hum roughly against his lips, your nails scratching along his shoulder blades in search of any kind of grounding you can find. It’s too much, his dimensions way oversized for what your hole can take, and the fact that you can’t help but grip him even tighter isn’t helping.
He reads you, your broken whines and the tear falling from your left eye, and the moment he bottoms out he stills himself, his face in the crook of your neck, his nose nuzzling the warm skin in a reassuring manner, “Shh, baby. I got you. Let me make you feel good.”
The whispered words are the same ones that jolted you from your sleep, the dream almost too real, and paired with his middle and ring finger circling your sensitive nub they cause you to emit a pleasured squeal, your chest arching into his.
At this point, you’re afraid you’re still trapped deep in your slumber. that none of this is actually real, it can’t be. You’re so convinced that it’s just too good to be true that you test it, scraping your nails harshly in his back, and when he bites the skin under your jaw in protest you gasp shakily.
It's definitely real. Jeongguk is fucking you. Almost. Not yet.
With the way your clit is being stimulated by his long fingers, the initial sharpness turns into more slick, and you impatiently groan, “Fuck me, please.”
One final kiss is left on your lips before he lifts his torso up, his hands roaming along your sides and grasping a hold of your tits. He teases you with a playful smirk on his face, your disappointed pout only resulting in a devilish chuckle from him as he massages your soft boobs. You can feel him throb inside you the more you swallow him in, and you know he’s just as impatient. You buck your hips up in search of friction, and the sudden motion makes the both of you moan.
He’s suddenly resolute as his palms fall to your waist and effortlessly holds it up as he begins fucking into you. With each stroke he picks up his pace, and he’s soon pounding your tight hole wrapping around him.
The both of you find out it’s impossible to be quiet. Your sounds are stuttered and pornographic, and it makes Jeongguk afraid he’s never going to be able to get them off his brain.
His own noises are heavenly, deep growls and surprised whines falling out his pillowed lips, slightly agape in bliss, brows drawn up.
Your eyes roll back and never come back, your vision patched, and you think you weren’t built to survive this kind of pleasure. It's almost deathly when he finds that one particular spot that makes you see stars.
Your skin slapping is louder than his hushed speech, but he makes sure the words reach you and translate into wetness coating his length even more, drenching it, making it soaked in your juices, “That’s how you need to be fucked. That’s how my girl needs to be fucked, hm?”
“Mhm, fuck, yes!” It’s breathless, but you want him to hear you. You feel yourself get closer just watching him smirk proudly at your state, his pupils blown out.
His palms are back to playing with your breast, kneading it harshly, and you enjoy the way he seems to be hypnotized by the vision, “Fuck. Love your tits. Fit just right in my hand. You were made for me, angel.”
Your head is thrown back between the cushions, your legs wrapping tighter around his ass and pushing him even deeper, the anticipated sensation building simultaneously in both of your trembling bodies.
“I'm not gonna last long, baby. This pussy’s too tight. Trappin’ me inside it,” Jeongguk’s voice is rough, the words leaving him slurredly and all his effort put into snapping his hips against yours, his eyes focused on the relentless in and out motion.
You wail, mumbling nonsense, but at the same time the most sincere words you’ve ever sputtered to him, “It’s yours, Jeongguk. F—fucking yours. Forever. Ah— fuck.”
He hums, feeling you contract around him the more he speaks to you, “That’s it. My pussy to fuck, baby. Mine to play with, mine to fill up.”
Your eyes widen at his territorial remarks, and when they meet his hazy ones they water with overwhelming ecstasy. The possibility of his cum filling you up is what does it for you, your nerves undoing once again and making you spasm around his throbbing dick. He talks you through your orgasm, praising you for cumming so good all over him, drinking in your blissful sounds and your hips rutting against his.
He’s just as close, and the realization that you came the moment he mentioned painting you in his seed makes him a crazed man, his motions stuttering sloppily, “Fuck. Aren’t you a naughty one, doll. You really want me to come inside you? You want it, huh? I bet you do.”
Your repeated nodding and the way your body is so pliant in his hold, letting it be completely handled by him with no functioning muscle, pervades his senses with a primal force that he puts into fucking your sensitive cunt.
He smirks wickedly, “You’d look so pretty. All stuffed. Want me to fill up this tight pussy? Want my mature cock in so deep you can’t breathe?”
You think you scream at his continuous suggestions, but you can’t be sure when all your senses are clouded, the oversensitivity turning you into a literal doll for him, no power over your actions. He looks just as fucked out, his lips parting as he basks in the feeling of being in control of you, eyes fighting to stay open and keep you in his vision.
When he feels you contracting around him in overstimulation, his breath stutters and he feels himself reach the peak, quickly pulling out of you to spill his cum over your naked skin. You gasp at the sudden emptiness and the warm liquid that keeps falling over your stomach, his cock being pumped in his fist and milked from all he can give you. You both pant in exhaustion, your legs loosening their grip around him as he dips his weak knees on either side of you on the couch.
He hums when he fully takes in your figure, marked by his cum, and he smiles when he sees your eyelids struggling to not fall. But you spasm once again when you feel his finger slide over your stomach, the wet liquid being collected, “Now, you gonna clean this up for me. Open your pretty mouth, baby.”
You don’t even ponder on the request, you just follow the order. Your brain is reduced to thoughts that are only related to him, and it automatically complies to anything that he orders from you. You engulf his digits promptly, swallowing his semen, looking up at him through your lashes and unashamedly clenching at his lazy smirk.
He makes sure every drop of his is collected and sucked by your hungry mouth, smiling when you don’t ever complain, “Mh, good girl. Get them neat.”
Only when he’s satisfied, he hovers over your face and finds your tongue in a sensual, slow kiss, both of you moaning at the exchange. With a sloppy sound, he parts from you only to disappear between your thighs, his eyes mischievous, “Gonna clean you up too.”
You gasp at the feeling of his mouth wrapping around your core once again, slurping your juice and lapping at your inner thighs, and you’re not sure how this is going to help in getting you clean. You only feel yourself becoming even wetter.
Leaving a kiss above your nub, he straightens up with a boyish smile softening his features, and with the fond way he’s looking at you, nobody could tell he just made you cum twice.
He moves your bangs from your forehead, closing the distance between you once again to leave small pecks over your still reddened face, “You did amazing, doll. Made me cum so hard.”
You hum contentedly, snuggling closer to him, your body unconsciously gravitating toward his warmth. Your hand lifts to thread through his hair, but before you can touch him, he shifts, pulling away.
The warmth he provided vanishes, replaced by the cold emptiness of the couch. Panic surges in your chest, washing away any remnants of fatigue. You prop yourself up on your forearms, eyes tracking his movements.
You don’t want him to leave you here alone, bare and vulnerable, maybe a bit confused and uncertain, and deep down deathly scared of whatever will come after this.
Your brows furrow, heart picking up a painful speed when you see he’s getting dressed — tossing on his shirt, pulling on his pants. And for a second, your pulsing organ clenches with dread. Is he leaving?
Then you notice him picking up your shorts from the floor, his expression softening as he walks back to you with that same gentle smile that had made your heart flutter earlier.
Relief washes over you.
He handles you delicately, as though you’re something fragile. His fingers brush your skin as he slips your shorts back on, pulling down your top before encircling your waist with his strong arms.
You squeal lightly when he pulls you onto his lap, settling back on the couch with you cradled against his chest. His hands never leave you, securing you to him. You settle into him easily, sighing in appreciation as the warmth of his body returns, your legs draped across his lap, arms circling his neck.
For a brief, fleeting moment, everything feels like it’s in its right place, like this is where you’ve always belonged. It feels so natural, so easy, being wrapped up in him. His deep, slow breaths lull you into a state of calm. His chin rests on the top of your head, hand rubbing soothing strokes along your spine.
You press even closer, breathing him in, feeling like you could get used to this, like you already have. Like you’ve always known this is where you should be. Your fingers trace absentminded patterns along his tattooed arm, the one holding you secure under your legs. You feel the need to look at him, to admire the man that marked you as his.
But when you glance up, you’re a bit startled when you notice the shift in his expression. His face is hardened, jaw clenched tight. He's not relaxed like he was just moments ago. His gaze is distant, staring intently at a spot across the room as if lost in thought. Yet his hands continue to cradle you, almost unconsciously, like holding you has become second nature to him.
Jeongguk’s mind is a whirlwind of emotions, and they only scatter all over the place as he feels you move closer, impossibly so. You seek warmth, care. Nuzzle your fragile body against his for protection, something more that he fears he can’t give you. Love.
He once thought he’d drained himself of it, had nothing left to offer. Now, with you in his arms, the smallest spark flickers to life, burning its way up his throat until it feels like it’s going to consume him.
He wants to give in. He wants to hold you tighter, trap you against him, keep you with him. Give you everything.
But he can’t do that to you. Can’t make you go through the same path that took everything from him. not without ruining you in the process.
He knows what comes next. What always comes next. Love turns into suffering, it’s inevitable. And could he survive seeing the look on Areum’s face when she finds out? How would she react if she knew the truth about what he’s done, about how he feels? About how he truly wants to act upon his feelings? The thought makes him feel sick, even as his heart beats steadily against yours, comforted by your presence.
Why doesn’t he feel disgusted? Why isn’t there shame gnawing at him, making him pull away? Instead, there’s only bliss. The sheer joy of having you this close, of holding you like this, makes him forget everything else.
He wishes he could be immature, for once. Wishes he was your age, and that nothing truly mattered. That he still could allow himself to make stupid decisions.
Maybe then, you’d be his, and reality wouldn’t catch up to him.
“Jeongguk? Are you okay?”
Your soft, honeyed voice pulls him from his spiral, and he startles slightly, caught off guard. His eyes meet yours, wide and filled with concern, searching his face for answers.
He tries to hide the storm brewing inside him, forcing a smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Huh? Yeah. I'm okay.”
Of course, you don’t believe him. An ugly feeling makes space in your stomach, and the weight of everything begins to press down. You don’t want it to take over you just yet, want to be coddled by the moment a little more, want to try and believe there’s nothing to be afraid of.
You offer a tentative smile, hoping to ease whatever tension is growing between you. “You… you seem worried.”
“I'm not, baby. I'm just thinking.”
“About?”
“Stuff.” His voice is clipped, and the small wall he’s building between you becomes clearer.
The distance stings, and your heart sinks as you try to hold onto the moment that felt so perfect just a second ago. Desperate to reach him, you place your hands on his face, tilting his chin down to meet your gaze.
Your eyes glisten with emotion, but you manage a genuine, if small, smile. “You can tell me, you know. You can talk to me.”
One simple, small smile spreading across his lips makes you doubt all of your worries. It makes you want to believe that maybe, there’s truly no reason to be scared. That maybe, this can go well.
“I know,” it’s whispered on your face, his hand coming to play with the hair that frame your cheeks sweetly. “Let’s get you to bed now, hm?”
Before you can protest, he’s lifting you off the couch with ease, cradling you in his arms bridal style as if you weigh nothing at all. You clutch onto him.
You feel your insides fuzzy with the gesture, and you wiggle yourself closer in his embrace, looking up at him expectantly, “Your bed?”
It breaks his heart having to disappoint you, tone soft as he tries to make up for it with his thumb brushing your thigh, “No, baby. You gotta go back to Areum’s room.”
“But— but… I wanna sleep next to you,” you plead, your voice small and almost childlike as you pout up at him, hoping to sway him.
He looks away, focusing on the stairs as if looking at you would break his resolve. “We can’t, dove. You know we can’t.”
His words feel like a punch to the gut, and your eyes well up. “We can't?”
The silence that follows is louder than any answer he could have given, and it weighs heavy between you, suffocating. There's no actual explanation to it, and the realization leaves both of you uneasy.
At Areum’s door, he sets you down gently, making sure you’re steady on your feet. He's careful with you, like he always is, his voice low, “Go wash up. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?”
“No…”
“C’mon, sweetheart. Don't make this harder.”
You frown in protest, keeping eye contact, but he doesn’t break. His gaze is steady, resolute.
You want to argue, want to push, but the exhaustion settles over you, and you slump, defeated. You still sway sweetly for him, your hands tied behind your back, “Okay… Can you kiss me?”
Your voice is small, muffled behind your pout as you seek for him with anticipation, a sheepish smile making its way on your lips.
When he doesn’t move closer, you get on your tippy toes and lean in his direction once again, your eyes almost fluttering shut before you hear him clear his throat, and take an awkward step back.
You’re back on your heels with a thump, the same one reverberating in your chest with your heart falling, your mouth hanging open with confusion written all over your expression.
You go to say something but he’s quicker, his voice solemn, “Goodnight, ___.”
Jeongguk smiles, but it’s nothing like the ones that took over his whole face just minutes ago on the couch, his eyes full of you. You're not even sure if you can define it as a smile. It’s polite, almost too polite, and it only results in feeling tremendously distant from him. Completely disconnected from you.
He retreats, long legs carrying him away, his back to you as he slips into his room. The door clicks shut behind him, the sound final, and it echoes in the hollow space.
You stand still, the weight of his absence pressing heavily on your chest. The spot where he left you feels like a grave, your feet sinking into the cold floor as if it’s pulling you under. The warmth he offered, the fleeting sense of safety, is gone, and you’re freezing. Your throat is tight with the effort to hold back the tears welling in your eyes. It's useless, though.
Your bare feet shuffle against the floor, but you can’t move forward. You can’t go back. You can’t do anything except stand there and feel the weight of it all crash down on you.
You’d been so afraid this would happen. How could you have been so foolish? Even in the midst of the sweetness, you knew it was too good to be true. A part of you always knew. And yet, you let yourself believe for a fleeting moment that something real could come from it. That you could be enough.
You’d have done anything to prove it to him. To show him your loyalty, your willingness to make it work. You still would. You'd give him every part of yourself, if he’d only take it. If he’d only look at you the way you want him to.
The full weight of your reality sinks in. In the end, none of it was truly real.
A sob breaks free from your chest, raw and painful. The sound echoes in the quiet hallway, bouncing off the walls that now feel oppressive, like they’re closing in on you. This house, every corner, it’s all stained now, tainted by the memory of what just happened, by the lie you let yourself fall into.
How many parts are you planning to add for cool with you??
I'm not too sure yet. There are still a couple of things I would like to touch on in the story, but I'm still figuring out when to add them, like why oc is afraid of commitment and other stuff like that.
pairing. jeon jungkook x fem!reader genre. streamer!jungkook. roommates au. smut. friends with benefits. friends to lovers.
with one bathroom in the apartment and jungkook’s strict streaming schedule, he’s left with no choice but to join you in the shower.
word count. 5.9k words warnings. they shower together duh. bold words are in korean (oc is not korean, she just understands korean a little bc of jungkook). HORNY OC #OVULATION. hes a lil cocky shit in this. smut. fem!masturbation. use of toy. she gets off to his voice. fingering. oral (fem!receiving). MUNCH !! HE RUBS HIS NOSE AGAINST HER CLIT. face grinding. tongue fucking.
ana’s notes. this is just the beginning .. HEHEHE
NEXT ⟡ SERIES MASTERPOST
There was always a fine line between you and Jungkook.
You could use his coffee machine — but you couldn’t use all of his coffee grinds. He could use your bunny headband — but your face wash was strictly yours.
Some things, though, you were just bound to share. Like toothpaste. The same cups. The same towel once… accidentally.
And especially the shower. Since there was only one bathroom.
It was a constant battle. You always took ridiculously long to shower. Sometimes it was because you were genuinely scrubbing your skin and washing your hair for an hour, or shaving. Most times, it was because the water felt too good — relaxing your muscles until you couldn’t bring yourself to get out.
Meanwhile, Jungkook would be on the other side of the door, pounding and telling you to hurry up because he had to take a leak. And when you didn’t answer, he’d just come in and do it anyway. It wasn’t weird — you two had been friends since you were teenagers. Besides, when you gotta go, you gotta go.
And just like all those other days, here he was again, banging on the door and yelling for you to hurry up.
You rolled your eyes, trying to drown out his voice and lose yourself in the scorching water pouring on your skin. You’d spent the entire morning replying to hundreds of emails, your back aching from hours of hunching over your desk, your neck stiff from turtleneck posture. You just wanted this — a long, hot shower, and the rest of the day to finally relax.
Until you hear an aggravating voice calling your name.
“Please hurry up! I have to stream in a bit and I need to shower!” Jungkook shouts from the other side of the door.
“Kook, I just got in!” you yell back, head tipping back in frustration.
“No, you haven’t! You’ve been in there for half an hour!”
“Well, you’re gonna have to wait!”
He groans, then shouts your name again. “I’m so serious, if you don’t hurry up, I’m going in there with you!”
“Well, I’m not getting out!” you say back.
And with that, Jungkook twists the doorknob and walks in.
“You’re not serious!” you exclaim, seeing his blurry silhouette through the fogged up shower door.
“You left me with no choice, bro,” he says, already stripping his clothes off.
You don’t say another word, completely flabbergasted.
There’s no way.
Before you could doubt him again, the door opens and he steps into the tiny shower with you, one hand on your bare back as he nudges you forward to make room.
“Jungkook!” you scream, covering your breasts.
“Fuck, why’s it so damn hot in here?” he says, leaning forward and adjusting the water, his bare chest brushing against your back.
“This is so weird, Kook.” you mutter, turning slightly to glare up at him.
“Relax. I won’t even look at you,” he says, eyes squeezed shut as he lathers shampoo through his hair. “I just need to wash up and I’ll be out.”
You try not to look either — you really do — but he’s right there. Water and soap slide down the solid lines of his chest, tracing the dip of his toned stomach before disappearing out of sight. Your gaze follows before you can stop it, curiosity flickering where it shouldn’t. He’s so big, even on soft.
You swallow hard, snapping yourself out of it. Then you turn around and push him back a little, his chest firm beneath your palm.
“You’re hogging, dude. I need to wash my conditioner out.”
His eyes stay shut, a lazy grin tugging at his mouth. “No one’s stopping you.”
You’re facing him — way too close for comfort — as you tilt your head back under the water. He finally opens his eyes, but his gaze stays low, focused on the way he scrubs his torso with the washcloth. Foam and bubbles lather over his skin, gliding down the water.
It’s respectful, really. How he isn’t ogling at you — a naked woman right in front of him — like any other man would. And somehow, that only makes it worse. Makes you want him to look.
God, you can barely breathe. He’s so close. His knuckles brush your ribs, a light bump that sends a jolt through you.
“Sorry,” he says in Korean, though his tone is completely casual.
You blink at him. What the fuck? How the hell is he so calm about this? You two have never seen each other naked — not that there was ever a reason to. Are you overthinking it?
He cracks one eye open, catching you before you can even look away. You’re still staring at his chest as he scrubs, and he lets out a low, breathy chuckle.
“Y’know, you're staring real hard for someone who said this was weird,” he teases.
Your eyes snap up, wide. “Shut up. You’re weird.”
“Hm. Okay, perv,” he says with a lazy grin.
“Just- hurry up and get out!” you snap, turning back toward the water to hide your face.
“Well, someone’s hogging the water!” he retorts.
“Hmph!” you huff, crossing your arms before stepping aside to let him under the water.
He rinses the soap from his hair, water streaming down his body and splashing everywhere like a wet dog — droplets hitting you from every direction. Annoyed, you twist the shower to hot, and when the water heats up, Jungkook yelps.
“Bro, you’re actually so annoying. C’mere!” he laughs, grabbing your shoulder and pulling you under the stream with him as he shifts it to freezing cold.
Your back collides with his slippery front, his arm instinctively looping around your waist to steady you. The sudden contact steals your breath — but before you can even process it, the cold water hits, and you let out a scream.
“Jungkook, please!” you shriek, trying to pry his arm off your waist.
“Brat,” he laughs, holding you in place as the freezing water pours down on both of you.
“Jungkook!” you shout again, squealing. “I’m genuinely going to kill you!”
He just laughs harder. Meanwhile, you can barely breathe through your shivers. Goosebumps start to form on your skin, but you can’t tell if it’s from the cold water or Jungkook’s cock pressing into you.
“Okay, seriously! It’s cold and I can feel your dick in my ass, dude!” you finally gasp, twisting in his grip.
He finally releases you and you immediately turn the water back to hot, the rush of warmth hitting your skin in relief and the glass immediately fogging up. He’s still laughing as he opens the shower door, grabbing his towel from the rack and getting out.
“Annoying ass,” you mutter, brushing water from your face.
“Yeah, yeah. Pervert,” he says back, wrapping the towel around his waist as his eyes flicker down to your chest.
“You just looked at my boobs!” you exclaim, brows knitted.
He shrugs. “You were looking at mine first?”
You grab the shower door handle and slam it shut. “Next time, I’m locking the door!”
“Yeah, and try showering faster!” he calls back, leaving the bathroom and shutting the door with a click.
Jungkook has always just been your best friend.
He’s funny, dorky, and has that annoying boyish charm that somehow made him impossible to stay mad at. You’d known him forever — too long to ever think of him that way.
But ever since he hopped in the shower with you the other day, your brain wouldn’t shut up. You kept replaying it — the proximity, his skin against yours, his cock literally pressed up against your ass. And now, every time he walked by, you couldn’t act normal without feeling carnal.
How could you not? It's not exactly normal to shower with your best friend. And this was all his fault, anyway!
You started seeing Jungkook in a completely different light.
The air got colder, and he was back to living in hoodies — cozy, oversized ones that made him look effortlessly attractive in a boyfriend way. His hair was always messy, his face bare, and every time he walked around, you’d get that swooning girly feeling.
And even worse? The sweats. The fucking sweats. The way they hung low on his hips, the way they showed too much. His print visible through the fabric, reminding you how absolutely hung he is.
God, you are a pervert.
You’ve been avoiding him. Leaving the room whenever he walks in. He hasn’t noticed yet — or maybe he has, but he hasn’t said anything about it.
Working from home didn’t help either. You were stuck in the apartment with him every hour of the day since he worked from home too. Your earphones and endless emails were enough to distract you for a while, but once the day ended and you were left in bed with nothing but your thoughts, it got bad.
And it was especially worse when you could hear his voice.
“Chat, I’m not taking off my hoodie,” you hear him say from his room, muffled but still clear through the thin wall. “It’s cold and I’m not wearing anything underneath.”
Then he laughs — low and knowing.
Fuck.
You’d checked your period tracker earlier. Of course you were ovulating. That probably explained why every little thing he did suddenly aroused you ten times harder.
The ache between your thighs had been building all evening, a throbbing inconvenience that no amount of ignoring could make go away. Your pink vibrator sat in the bedside drawer, tempting, calling your name like a ritual. Quickly, you slid it open, fingers wrapping around the silicone toy.
You pushed the button, and the persistent buzz filled the room. The walls in this apartment were ridiculously thin; every word came through like he was right there with you. You could hear him, his voice pushing through the barrier as he flirts with his viewers like the little tease he is. If you were able to hear him, he could definitely hear this toy's relentless whirring.
But you didn’t give a single fuck — you needed this too badly to stop or care.
Impatiently, you hooked your thumbs into the waistband of your shorts and panties, yanking them down in one swift motion. The cool air hits your wet and swollen heat, pussy clenching in anticipation and need. You spread your legs slightly on the bed, the sheets crumpling beneath you and you positioned the vibrator.
Then you hear his voice again. “Take it off anyway? Yo, chat! Behave!” He giggles softly.
Why did that make you even hornier? Imagining him there, taking his hoodie off and streaming shirtless, feeding his audience what they want. It makes you wonder if he’ll give you what you want. The thought has you trailing the buzzing tip along your inner thigh first, teasing yourself. Finally, you pressed it firmly against your clit.
The contact was intense — vibrations pulsing directly into that sensitive bud full of nerves. Your body jerked involuntarily, hips bucking as a sharp wave of pleasure shot throughout you, making your toes curl. You cursed quietly, a soft moan escaping before you bit down on your lower lip.
On the other side of the hall, he drives you to your edge quicker. “No! Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Jungkook chants, the words tumbling out in frustration. A deep groan followed, guttural and unrestrained. “Goddamnit! I was so close, then I fucking sold!”
He’s losing his shit over a game while you were about to cum from the pathetic sounds he was making.
You circled the vibrator slower now, grinding it against your clit in deliberate movements, the wetness coating the toy. Each stroke sent your nerves radiating, your pussy aching to be filled, but for now, this was enough — more than enough with his oblivious presence so close.
You clamped a hand over your mouth, fingers digging into your cheek as your back arched off the bed. The vibrator thrummed at its highest speed now, the intense vibrations assaulting your clit relentlessly. All that lust you’d been bottling up poured out in a flood of slick heat between your thighs.
Living with Jeon Jungkook was torturous…
“Chat, one more round or should I end stream for the night?” His tone was casual, yet had you in full effect — oblivious to the way your pussy throbbed at the rasp in his voice.
A muffled moan escaped despite your efforts, vibrating against your palm. Your hips lift from the mattress, grinding your swollen clit harder against the toy. You can feel it coming — the tight coil in your tummy twisting, your walls clenching around the toy as arousal leaks profusely out of you.
“One more round? Alright, just for you,” he replied to his viewers — that signature giggle slipping out, the one he does when he knows the girls and gays are already folding over the simplest things he does.
But you weren’t some thirsty fan in his chat. No, Jungkook’s effect on you ran way deeper than that — a constant simmer that turned into this frantic need to fuck yourself while listening to him.
You threw your head back against the pillow, neck straining as you bit down on your knuckle, teeth sinking into skin to muffle the moan clawing up your throat. The pressure surged to its peak, your body locking up as the orgasm took over.
Your clit pulsed under the vibrator’s assault as the pleasure exploded, making your toes curl and your back arch. Slick seeped out of you, coating your fingers and the toy, the wet sounds barely audible over the buzz and your ragged breathing.
As you came down from your high, the overstimulation became too much. You yanked the vibrator away with a gasp, fumbling to turn it off, the sudden silence deafening — you could hear Jungkook tapping away at his keyboard, finger clicking down on the mouse. The toy rolled away as you tossed it somewhere on your bed, too spent to care about the mess on it right now.
One thing was clear: you hadn’t felt like that in far too long — your thighs shaking uncontrollably, your sopping heat still throbbing hypersensitively, that deep, aching relief lingering in your lower stomach. The raw force of it drained you, a sluggish feeling in your limbs.
Post nut clarity hit you like a truck, shame and guilt starting to eat at you: you came harder than ever, all because you were fantasizing about Jungkook, your best friend. That incident in the shower and all the glances you stole — his wet skin glistening under the water, those thick, muscular arms flexing as he lathered soap all over his body, and his heavy cock hanging between his thighs. It had all ignited this secret explosion of lust. It wasn’t forbidden, but it had felt that way since you’d never thought about him like this.
Now, the idea of him walking by while you were in the living room, or coming into the kitchen behind you, peering over your shoulder to see what was for dinner — it all makes your tummy flutter, like a stupid crush.
No way you could keep living like this.
You managed to successfully avoid Jungkook for the rest of the week. Not that it was difficult — he’d been too busy with his streaming schedule, headset on and door shut most of the time.
It was ironic, really — living with Jungkook and yet not seeing him for days.
Still, you weren’t taking any risks. You’d started taking quicker showers — gosh, you missed standing under the water until your skin steamed. You hadn’t cooked in days either, constantly dragging Jennie out for dinner or inviting yourself over to her place instead.
Now, the cold air had your hands trembling as you tried to fit the key into the lock. After a few fumbling attempts, it finally clicked, and you pushed the door open, grateful to step inside the warm apartment.
You’d just come back from Jennie’s place after a cozy pasta dinner for two. She had joked about you moving in with her instead, just so you could cook for her like that every night.
And damn, maybe you should’ve considered her offer — because the moment you walk into the apartment, Jungkook’s already there in the kitchen, sleeves pushed up and a pan on the stove. He must’ve just finished streaming. Poor baby probably hadn’t eaten all day until now.
On other days, you’d cook for the both of you. But tonight, you couldn’t shake the guilt crawling up your spine.
“Hey,” he says, glancing over his shoulder as you step inside.
“Hi,” you reply, quick and polite.
But suspicious.
Normally, you’d linger — maybe steal a bite of whatever he was cooking or tease him about the mess he was making. Instead, you head straight for your room without another word.
Jungkook’s brows knit together. That just won’t do.
Your door’s already shut by the time he follows, knuckles tapping against the wood.
You scrunch up your nose, already dreading the conversation you’re about to have with him. How do you tell your best friend of years that you feel guilty because you got off to his voice?
“Come in,” you call, trying to sound casual.
He walks in — looking good as ever. His hair is tousled, his hoodie hanging loose but still fitting him perfectly.
“Everything okay?” he asks.
Shit.
You shrug off your jacket and toss it into the hamper. “Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?”
“I don’t know. You seem… weird.”
You sigh, turning away from him as you open your laptop, pretending to be busy. “Really, I’m okay.”
It’s quiet for a moment. And just when you expect to hear the door close, you hear him instead.
“Did something happen while you were out?” he asks, voice soft but worried.
You turn around to face him — brows slightly furrowed, that worry in his eyes making your chest tighten.
“No,“ you glance away, fumbling for composure. “I swear, everything’s okay.”
He still doesn’t look convinced.
“Then why won’t you look at me?” he presses.
You let out a nervous laugh. “I’m looking at you!”
You’re not. You’re very pointedly looking anywhere but at him — specifically at your nightstand. Yeah. That one.
“You’re not!” he whines.
“Jungkook, please.” You shut your eyes, trying to sound firm, though your anxiety betrays you.
“No! If something is wrong, you can tell me!” he insists, voice mixed with worry and frustration now. He takes a few steps closer.
“I said everything’s okay! Why won’t you just believe me?” you shoot back, finally looking up at him — a mistake, because he looks unfairly good even when he’s upset. Eyes bigger somehow, brows knitted in that way that makes him look both worried and boyishly stubborn.
“Because you’re not being believeable?” he says, as if obvious.
You sigh, looking down at your hands in your lap, the guilt gnawing away.
Then, quieter, almost hesitant. “Did… did I make you uncomfortable that day?”
Your head snaps up. There it is — the forbidden topic neither of you had spoken about since it happened. It feels foreign, like it shouldn’t have been brought up, but here it is anyway — being brought up.
“No, you didn’t,” you say quickly, almost too quickly. But he still doesn’t look convinced. “Kook, no. I swear you didn’t make me uncomfortable.”
“Then what’s wrong?” he asks, almost pleading now. He knows you too well — knows the difference between you’re fine and you’re pretending to be fine.
“It’s me, okay?” you blurt out, looking away. “That wasn’t exactly a boundary we should’ve crossed as friends, and now….” You exhale shakily, cheeks getting warm. “Now I feel guilty because I can’t stop thinking about you in ways I shouldn’t.”
Silence. Heavy, suffocating silence.
You can feel his gaze burning into you, and every inch of your body wants to sink straight to the floor. You brace yourself for it — for him to laugh and tell you he doesn’t see you that way. Or tell you you’re like a little sister to him. Either way, you’re already planning to text Jennie and tell her you’re moving in, because there’s no way you’re surviving this humiliation.
“You’ve… been fantasizing about me?”
Your head snaps up. A smug, satisfied look plastered all over his face — it has ego written all over it. His lips curl into a slow, teasing smirk, and his hands slip casually into the pockets of his sweats like he’s enjoying this way too much.
Of course he is. Of course this cocky little shit would love hearing that.
You groan, dragging your hands down your face. “Oh my god, Jungkook, you actually need to die.”
“That’s basically what you said, though!” he argues, clearly entertained.
You drop your hands and glare at him. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?” he asks, tilting his head, that little grin tugging at the corner of his mouth as he takes a step closer.
“Don’t be annoying.”
“Okay,” he says, hands raised in surrender — though he quickly slips them back into his pockets, that smirk turning into a soft smile. “I’m sorry.”
Your lips press into a thin line, your face hot. “Well?”
“What?” he asks, blinking at you like he’s clueless.
“Aren’t you going to reject me?” you ask, exasperated. “Actually, do it now so I can start packing.”
He just chuckles quietly. No rejection. No teasing comeback like he usually would’ve done.
“Come here,” he says, nodding his head toward himself.
“Jungkook…” you hesitate.
“Come here,” he repeats, firmer this time — his voice deeper, leaving no room for argument.
You roll your eyes before finally pushing yourself up, dragging your feet toward him like you’re walking into something you shouldn’t.
Once you stop in front of him, Jungkook’s hand slides around your arm — firm but gentle — and he guides you down until the back of your knees hit the edge of the bed. You sit, confused, eyes darting up at him.
“What are you trying to do?” you ask warily.
Instead of answering, he kneels down in front of you. His face is level with yours now, expression unreadable but somehow still soft.
“Whatever happened to that guy you were hooking up with?” he asks suddenly.
“Eunwoo?” you blink, caught off guard. “We stopped.”
He hums, leaning in slightly. “And since then?”
You hesitate, fingers fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. “It’s… been a while.”
His tongue clicks as his lips curve. “You poor thing.” He plants his forearms on either side of your thighs, caging you in. “No wonder you got all weird after the shower.”
You roll your eyes and shove lightly at his chest. “Shut up.”
He laughs teasingly, but doesn’t budge.
“And you?” you ask, lifting your chin, trying to stabilize your voice.
He tilts his head, smiling faintly. “Nope. Too busy streaming.”
He’s so close now, closer than he’s ever been — even closer than that incident in the shower. Your heart pounds vigorously in your chest, your frantic heartbeat echoing in your ears, and you’re sure he can hear it too. Heat floods your face, cheeks burning with embarrassment.
“So… if you want to…” he murmurs, leaning in even more until his breath fans hot against your lips.
“Don’t you have a bunch of streamer girls you know that you could fuck instead?” you ask, breath hitching as your thighs clench together instinctively, trying to subdue the ache between them.
“Don’t want them,” he whispers as he closes the gap further.
His lips brush yours — not a full kiss yet, just a tentative bump, testing the waters, giving you the chance to pull back if you want to. But you don’t. You can’t.
The moment stretches, and then he crashes into you like a man starved. His mouth claims yours, lips soft yet demanding, tasting faintly of the sweet balm he slathers on after every shower. His tongue slips past your parted lips, exploring, tangling with yours.
His hands roam boldly now, sliding around your hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh there. He pulls you flush against him, trapping you completely in his grip, your body pinned by his solid weight.
With a sudden surge, he lunges forward, laying you down. He hovers over you, lips never leaving yours, devouring you with sloppy, urgent kisses, sucking on your lower lip before diving back in to taste every flavor of your mouth.
One hand trails downward, slipping beneath the waistband of your leggings and panties. His palm is surprisingly warm, contrasting deliciously against your colder skin from the air outside.
He wastes no time, fingers delving lower until his middle one grazes your sopping pussy. You’re already so wet, warm slick coating his digits as it profusely drips out. The first touch sends a jolt through you, your hips bucking.
He adds another finger, pressing it firmly against the sensitive bud, rubbing in slow, deliberate circles. A muffled moan escapes, vibrating against Jungkook’s mouth.
You break the kiss, turning your head to the side, teeth sinking into your lower lip to stifle the sounds threatening to spill out louder.
“How long exactly is a while?” he asks, voice husky, laced with amusement.
God, you’re not even facing him, but you can hear that smug smirk in his tone, feel it in the way his fingers pause just to tease.
“Five months,” you gasp out, the admission hanging heavy in the air, your body trembling under his touch.
He doesn’t respond with words — just pushes two fingers deep inside your soaked pussy. Your walls clench around the intrusion, slick heat welcoming him, and you throw your head back with an audible moan.
He leans down, lips finding the curve of your neck, starting with a gentle kitten lick of his tongue before his teeth graze the skin. He bites down — not hard enough to bruise, but firm enough to mark, sucking the spot until you feel the delicious sting straight to your core.
Your hands fly up, cupping his face, thumbs brushing his sharp jawline as you pull him back into a feverish kiss. Tongues messily clash again. In response, his hand inside your pants speeds up, fingers thrusting in and out with a steady rhythm. The squelching of your arousal grows louder, filling the room.
“You haven’t eaten today, have you?” you manage through moans, your thumb rubbing soothing circles over the apple of his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin under your touch.
He chuckles low in his throat, the vibration rumbling against your lips as he leans into your hand. “You’re really doing this right now?”
“I-“ Your words cut off as his fingers curl sharply inside you, pressing against your inner walls with precision. A moan rips from your throat, your body shuddering. “I feel bad. Haven’t been cooking for you because I was embarrassed.”
“Don’t. That’s not your job,” he says, his smile evident in his voice, eyes gleaming at how sensitive you are, how every twitch and gasp fuels his ego.
“Don’t wanna starve you,” you whimper, the words tumbling out through the haze of pleasure.
“No?” He tilts his head, that playful dominance shining through as he watches your face contort.
You hum in agreement, shaking your head weakly.
“Okay, I’ll eat then,” he says.
He withdraws his fingers slowly, the sudden emptiness making you whine in protest, your pussy clenching around nothing as your sticky arousal gets on your thighs.
You exhale shakily, chest heaving, trying to catch your breath, but before you could regulate your breathing, Jungkook’s hands are at your waistband. With a forceful tug, he pulls your leggings and panties down your legs in one rough motion.
“Jungkook!” you exclaim, voice pitching higher as embarrassment floods. “What’re you doing!”
“About to eat,” he replies casually, kneeling between your legs hanging at the edge of the bed. “Since you’re so worried about my appetite.”
“This is not what I meant,” you protest, thighs closing in futile attempt to hide.
“Come on,” he whined in Korean, playful but insistent, his accent thick. His hands gently but firmly pry at your knees. “Been a while, hasn’t it? Let me take care of you.”
“Do not use that against me!” you whine back.
He switches tactics, those pleasing eyes boring into yours, one hand resting warmly on your knee.
You’ve thought about this for days now. The cool press of his lip rings against you, how good he is with his tongue. The thought alone makes more arousal seep out of your entrance. Your legs part instinctively, opening wide for him, a silent invitation.
A slow, satisfied smile spreads across his face, dimple peeking as he leans in. He starts with soft kisses along your inner thigh, nipping lightly at the skin until goosebumps erupt. His eyes stay fixed on yours, intense and unwavering. But the intimacy gets too much, and you avert your gaze to the side, biting your lip again.
He chuckles softly, the sound vibrating against your thigh. “Look at me.”
Obediently, though with a hint of attitude in your narrowed eyes, you turn back, meeting his stare. It feels exposing, vulnerable, but the command in his voice sends even more arousal out of you.
He pushes your thighs wider, fingers digging into the soft flesh to hold you splayed open, your pussy on full display — swollen, wet, clit begging for attention.
Finally, he leans in closer, his breath ghosting over your heated core, making you shiver. His tongue darts out, licking a stripe right over your sensitive clit. Immediately, a sharp wave of pleasure shoots down your spine, your hips jerking into his mouth further. Your thighs quiver, instinctively trying to close in on his head, but his grip is stronger, keeping you spread at his mercy.
He holds your gaze as he buries his face deeper, the metal of his lip rings against your folds. His mouth latches onto your clit fully now, lips sealing around the bud as he sucks — gentle at first, then harder, tongue flicking rapidly against it.
The suction pulls a quiet moan from your open mouth, your back arching, pressure building in your lower tummy. Slick coats his chin, dripping down as he devours you, humming in approval at your taste, the vibrations adding another blissful yet tormenting sensation.
He lowers his face further, his tongue extending to lap directly into your sopping entrance. The tip of his tongue presses inside, tasting your arousal, swirling against your inner walls as he gathers more of your juices. Then, his nose nudges firmly against your swollen clit, the firm bridge bumping it with just the right pressure.
“Y- yes, Kook, right there,” you moan, the words spilling out in a breathy plea as you lean back on one arm, propping yourself up to watch him work, your free hand gripping onto the sheets.
He starts moving his head up and down in a steady rhythm, the rounded tip of his nose circling and pressing into the throbbing nub, intensifying the friction. His tongue stays buried inside your pussy, thrusting shallowly, lapping up your warm slick.
A deep hum vibrates from his throat, the sound muffled against your heat, like he’s seeking your approval or praise, dark eyes flickering up to lock onto yours. The lower half of his face is completely buried deep between your spread thighs.
You nod frantically, eyebrows knitting together in ecstasy, your bottom lip caught so tightly between your teeth that you’re convinced you might’ve drawn blood. “Fuck, yes, just like that,” you gasp, the praise fueling him as your body trembles.
Jungkook’s own brows furrow in concentration and bliss, his expression twisting like he’s savoring the richest feast imaginable — and he is, devouring your pussy with all his focus. Breathing is a challenge with your thighs clamped around his ears and your pussy coating his mouth and nose, but the thought doesn’t discourage him; he’d gladly suffocate between your legs.
His gaze never wavers from your face, taking in every detail: the way your features contort in pleasure, eyes half-lidded and glassy, your lower lip now visibly swollen from the abuse of your teeth.
Driven by your reactions, he shoves his face even deeper, the hard ridge of his nose bone grinding harder against your clit, providing relentless friction that builds the coil in your tummy tighter. His tongue plunges further inside, fucking into your pussy with wet, slurping strokes that echo obscenely in the room, pushing you toward the brink.
“Jungkook, baby, I’m already so close,” you moan, your voice coming out hoarse and hushed, strained from all the moaning and restraint.
Your hips start to rock subtly against his mouth, and he hums again — the low vibration rumbling straight through your core, making your clit pulse against his nose and your inner walls clench around his invading tongue. That sensation ignites something within you — your hips buck forward, grinding harder into his face, chasing the pressure as you smear more slick across his skin.
You throw your head back as louder moans tear from your throat, your entire body flushing hot, skin prickling with sweat. The orgasm crashes over you, seizing your muscles in a frozen moment of pure intensity before you convulse, thighs shutting around his head, pussy clenching as your cries fill the room.
After a few blissful seconds, the aftershocks turn into overstimulation, the continuous lap of his tongue and nudge of his nose becoming too much on your hypersensitive nerves.
“Okay! Okay!” you giggle breathlessly as you push at his shoulder with your foot, trying to create some distance while your body still twitches.
Jungkook finally pulls back with a low, guttural moan, his tongue darting out to lick his lips clean of your essence, savoring the sweet taste. He rises slowly, crawling up your body, his eyes low and dark with lust.
You haven’t laid a single hand on his cock yet, but he looks utterly wrecked — face flushed a deep pink, hair disheveled and sticking to his forehead with sweat. Your arousal glistens across the entire lower half of his face, from his chin to the bridge of his nose.
“Your face is all wet!” you giggle again.
He doesn’t respond verbally, just leans down to capture your lips in soft, lingering pecks, as if he suddenly can’t be apart from you for even a moment, sharing the faint tang of your own essence between you.
“Alright, munch,” you say with a teasing lilt, pressing your palms against his chest to create space, sitting up alongside him on the bed. “Go wash up.”
“Fine, fine,” he succumbs, getting off you with exaggerated defeat, hands raised in mock surrender as he stumbles to his feet, legs a bit unsteady like he’s had one too many drinks, his bulge straining obviously against his sweats.
“Need help with that?” you ask, your voice light and teasing, eyes flicking pointedly to the obvious problem between his legs.
“Nah,” he groans, the sound low and rough. “You rest, I’ll take care of it.”
“And eat a real meal, please?” you call after him, voice laced with affectionate concern as he heads toward the bathroom.
“I just did!” he yells back, the playful retort echoing down the hall, followed by the sound of running water.
You snort, a hand coming up to cover your face as laughter bubbles out.
Yeah, you wouldn’t be texting Jennie tonight. You’re right where you want to be.
genre: hockeyplayer!jungkook, richgirlie!oc, college!au, fwb, brother's best friend
summary: your ex-high-school crush is now your fuck buddy. you just gotta make sure that your older brother taehyung, jungkook's best friend, doesn't catch you red-handed.
*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ**✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*
pt 01: ego season (m) 6.3k
pov: you make ur secret fuck buddy jealous.
pt 02: number 7 (m) 3k
pov: your jealous fuck buddy pounds you in his jersey.
pt 03: hush-hush (m) 1.5k
pov: you receive a dick pic from jungkook while you're out on a family dinner.
pt 04: too hot to handle (m) 5.3k [one year ago]
pov: it's a hot summer day, and naturally, your brother's best friend can't take his eyes off your scantily clad body.
pt 05: summer playlist (m) 4k
pov: jungkook dedicates a cute playlist to you and fucks you to it on the balcony.
pt 06: yours, but not yours (m, a) 3.6k
pov: you're his, he's yours, but only when it's convenient.
pt 07: next move (m, a) 13.7k
pov: you’ve spent so long pushing jungkook away, but now you’re the one trying to pull him back in.
pt 08: pierced (m)
pov: you get a belly button piercing and jungkook is obsessed.
in which jeongguk almost makes you forget you’re four years older than him and that he’s fucking you with a lollipop on the counter of the local cafe you work at.
⌗ from LOViE playlist
pairing younger!jk x barista!fem reader
genre smut
contents pwp, 80s au, jk 20 | oc 24, noona usage, situationship ??, slight jealousy, makeout sesh, public sex, brief tit play, fingering, switch!jk And oc, food play, cum eating, almost bj, jk is sensitive and could come untouched, he’s also so whipped
word count 3.6k
author's note i'm so sorry for this it's a filthy mess barely read through ! i'm ovulating and jk got me so wet in his last live Oop... can't stop thinking about his Rings and that Lollipop omg. anyway lovieku nation do not fear cause you're getting a lengthier and deeper fic soon ☺️😛 love ya
The heavy door jingles as it’s pushed open. Your hand freezes mid-swipe across the counter, voice already on autopilot before you even look up.
“Sorry, we’re clos—”
But when you do look up, you have to resist rolling your eyes straight back into your skull. Unsure if it’s annoyance or a visceral reaction, something that starts lower and coils tight in your middle.
“Should flip the sign then, no?”
Jeongguk gestures lazily toward the entrance — toward the board the manager told you to turn before leaving you alone to clean every inch of the café, like some 80s Cinderella scrubbing after midnight. Flips it from OPEN to CLOSED.
Still, the fashionable rebel doesn’t feel the message applies to him. The door swings shut behind him, as if the very idea that this place could be closed to him is incomprehensible. As if you would actually ask him to leave.
He steps closer. Leather jacket, simple black tee, straight black jeans cinched tight at the waist with a thick belt. A silver cross hangs at his throat, the tiny stones catching the light, matching the many rings stacked along his fingers.
Jeongguk looks ridiculous, even more so when a smirk on his pierced lips is in response to your eventual eye roll. He looks ridiculous because he’s the only one dressing like the trends crawling out of the city. Walking around like he expects paparazzi to trail behind him on the empty streets. Like he’s not out of place in your small town.
Like he doesn’t make you feel out of place.
He’s younger than you, four years. You know because your little sister had biology with him back in high school, and the stupid project they had to present resulted in him coming over to your house for a couple of days. A couple of days that turned into a recurrence. A recurrence with the sole purpose of seducing you.
You. Awkward, hair messy and braided, coffee-stained apron and bare faced you. With a rag in one hand and a cleaning spray in the other.
You sigh, placing them on the counter in front of you. “I said we’re closed.”
He coos, striding nearer until only the table separates your bodies. “You’re really gonna kick me out, noona?”
Teeth clenching, you untie your hair and let it fall loose, fingers combing through the front in an unconscious attempt to look more presentable under his swollen doe orbs and cocky smile.
Jeongguk has managed to seduce you.
It took three years. Three years of persistence, of never once backing down. He found every possible excuse to partner with your sister on school projects just to be in your house, in your space. Even when there were no assignments, he’d come over anyway, giving your sibling false hope that he was trying to befriend her, maybe even make her his girlfriend.
Your parents loved the idea. You didn’t. Not because you thought they’d be a bad match, but because you knew the real reason he kept showing up.
It only got worse when he found out where you worked. He started coming in every day after classes, giving up his every penny into the jukebox just to dedicate songs to you. His favourite was Can’t Take My Eyes off You.
It happened one night at a house party he somehow managed to sneak into. Found you on the porch, drunk and crying into your arms. Drove you home on his bike, the night air sobering you just enough to realise what you were doing when you pulled him down by the collar and kissed him in front of your door.
You threw up seconds later.
Since then, it’s been sneaky encounters, mostly in your bedroom after he’d knock softly on your window, hair tussled and breath fanning from the short but tense climb.
But more than anything, it’s given Jeongguk the final green light to fully court you. Gifting you roses every week, dropping you lunch at work, scoring goals for you at charity games. You pretend you don’t notice who he’s pointing to every time that happens.
In return, you haven’t given him much. Heated makeout sessions, dry humping and touching over thin layers. That’s where you drew the line. There was one time he touched himself in front of you, the first and only time you’ve seen his glorious and bare dick, all up and red for you. He’d claimed he was so hard he felt like he might actually die, sounded genuinely panicked when he said it — breath shaky, eyes wide. You’d believed him enough not to push him away.
Most of the time, though, it takes very little. A few slow grinds against your thigh and he’s spilling into his jeans with a strangled groan.
You made it clear from the beginning that whatever this is, it stays between you. A strict secret. No matter how many times he’s tried to ease public touches into your dynamic, you always step back. Pretend he’s just another customer. Just another boy in town. Your little sister’s friend.
It’s not like you’re not attracted to him. You are. Objectively, undeniably, he’s beautiful. Sharp jaw, dark eyes, tall figure. You just can’t shake the shame that comes with wanting someone younger. Especially someone who could have any girl his age, the very ones already lined up for him, battling their lashes, whispering when he walks by.
You’ve tried telling him a thousand times, that you’d be just a waste of his time, that he’d be better off with Leah, or Anna, or whichever cheerleader was flirting with him at the game last week.
Jeongguk doesn’t care. Ever since you happened, it’s as if his vision has narrowed, his ears have closed to every voice but yours. His focus has moved in one direction, and the destination is you.
If he can’t have you, then he won’t have anyone. There’s no point. He wants you only.
Hands planted on your hips, you lift your chin and try to conceal the once-over you just gave him, though your gaze lingers a second too long on the lollipop he rolls between his ring-adorned fingers.
“What are you doing here, Jeongguk?”
He sucks on his candy before smiling. “Wanted to see my favourite girl on earth.”
At that, you turn your back to him immediately, pretending to be busy wiping down a section of counter that’s already spotless. In reality, your heart climbs straight to your throat, eyes squeezing shut along with your thighs pressing together without you meaning to.
“I’m busy.”
Behind you, his jewelry clinks against the surface, fingers tapping lazily along to the muted hum of your playlist. “Too busy even for me, angel?”
Expression set, knowing exactly where this is headed, you turn around. He leans forward instantly at your proximity, like a dog catching the scent of its owner, and your faces are so close that he has to tilt his head down and you have to crane your neck up.
“What do you want?”
“You.”
The lollipop is strawberry flavoured. You know because his breath fans warm on your lashes, and because you can almost taste it yourself when he pops it back into his mouth, pretty tongue curling slow and deliberate all over it. His cheeks hollow around it, pushing it in and out. In and out. All while his blown pupils flick between your own and your lips.
You like to think of yourself as a strong, independent woman. Who knows exactly what she wants and what she doesn’t. Will fight for it, or against it.
Two minutes later, Jeongguk is on the other side of the counter with you pressed between him and the unforgiving edge. His palms are insatiable and slide from your thighs up along your waist, settling just beneath your chest. His mouth claims yours, swallowing your every small, breathless sound.
You are a strong woman, most of the time. At the very least you can say you’re fighting for what you want. And against it, if the way your hips move restlessly against the denim of his jeans counts as resistance.
The mix of sugar and saliva turns sticky, syrup-thick between you, and it threatens to make your teeth ache. You’re almost sickened by how easily your limbs melt in his hold, honey-soft and pliant. Almost, because you also sickeningly enjoy the rough smell of cigarette lingering on you after a long shift tangling with his soft amber scent.
“I missed you,” his words are muffled in your mouth, neither of you able to pull away. You answer with a soft hum, arms sliding around his broad back to tug him closer. You’re afraid to speak and be betrayed by your own voice. So you’ll let your tongues do the talking instead.
His own explores like it’s reaching as deep as it possibly can, almost tasting the words you keep locked at the back of your throat. He’s always been the one to say what you won’t. He talks enough for the both of you.
With his grip tightening on your hip, he reluctantly draws back, leaving only a breath of space, distance bridged by the longing in his stare.
“I really wanna touch you, noona. Please… can I?”
You’re convinced he only uses those puppy eyes when it benefits him, but you can’t prove it. The only piece of evidence you have is your immediate nodding, every single time.
Jeongguk fumbles with the strings of your apron, letting it slip from your waist and pool at your feet. He groans at the sight of you in nothing but your excuse of a skirt and a flimsy tank top, fabric clinging to your skin. His wide hand cups your boob, thumb brushing slow circles, while he mouths at the other over the thin material. You gasp at the raw contact, at the contrast of his cool rings and the heat radiating from his towering body, back instinctively arching into it.
He never lingers on one spot for too long. Comes back up, saccharine lips teasing yours before drifting to the sensitive and just as sweet place under your ear. The strawberry lollipop is still hooked loosely between his fingers. And with his own mouth occupied, it finds a new purpose: nudging one strap off your shoulder, his hand twists the smooth edge of the candy on your hard nipple, your head thrown back at the slick feeling.
“Ggukkie, oh my god,” breaths stuttering, you’re overwhelmed with his resolute confidence, fingers curling and tugging at his already-tousled hair as if wishing you could pry him off, but front betraying you and naturally pressing forward for more.
Fanning on your neck, he licks a stripe behind your lobe, sucking on the sensitive spot. Then lingers there, tip of his nose to your ear, so that his words stick like the sugar trail smeared all over your chest.
“I’m so hard for you. Let me touch you, please?”
You know what he really means. Your face slowly comes back up to meet his, brows knitting together both in pleasure and confusion. Confusion at the way your heartbeat stumbles when you take him in like this: heavy-lidded eyes dark with want, lips parted just enough to catch his breath, one hand still cupping your boob for insatiable closeness.
There’s no other reaction that feels more natural than kissing him. And he seems to get it, gulp down your consent, seek for more as he surges forward and reaches inside your mouth with animalistic urges. You frantically tug at his jacket, letting him throw it somewhere over the counter behind you.
When he finally pulls back, he’s breathless. His pitch-black sharpening gaze is on you, a faint sheen of moisture briefly keeping you tethered.
“You know you’re mine, yeah?”
“Huh?”
He pops the lolly back into his mouth, tongue swirling over it. The way his wet muscle flickers up, down and around it has your core quivering, mouth falling agape. The moment he pulls the candy out with an audible pop, briefly toying with the stick, you can see what he means. What he’s warning you for. He’s resolute, won’t wait for another second.
“Yoongi-hyung won’t give you what I can.”
In any other circumstance, you would’ve laughed in his face.
If it weren’t for his sneaky fingers hooking your panties aside beneath your skirt and letting the strawberry head glide along your folds. Your startled gasp melts into a moan, instinctively bracing yourself for balance on his shoulders, fingers curling into his collar.
He seizes the opportunity presented by your weight practically hanging off of him to lift you up onto the counter behind you, glasses and cups clattering together, one leg guided open and hoisted up over his forearm, the other barely keeping you steady on the floor.
You desperately wish a 20 year old boy didn’t have this much power over you. The kind that makes you forget your words, how to properly put them in a sentence. You don’t know how much longer you can pretend he’s wrong about you being his, or that the candy being dangerously close to your fluttering hole isn’t simultaneously the sexiest and most disgusting thing that’s ever happened to you.
“What the… fuck… does Yoongi have to do with anything?” Your expression is so tense it threatens premature wrinkles, only softening when his thick and silver-ringed fingers trail up to tangle in your hair.
“I saw you at the party. Flirting with him,” he keeps teasing your entrance, alternates between that and your swollen clit. “I know I’m younger, but I can fuck you better, noona.”
You gasp around surprise and pleasure, clinging to the thinnest thread of composure, though your body has long decided what it wants.
“What do you think you’re doing, Jeongguk?”
“Showing you.”
A loud moan is ripped from you when he finally commits, finally pushes the candy inside, swirling it in agonizingly slow circles. You head thrashes, overwhelmed by the collision of guilt and pleasure, brows drawing and eyes welling up. The hand buried in your locks descends to wrap gently around your throat, forcing your hooded gaze back to his.
“What? You think I can’t?”
You’re certain, painfully positive, that he can make you cum like this. Even more sure when his index and middle fingers thrust the candy deeper, while his thumb begins a relentless rhythm around your clit. You shake your head frantically, not in denial of his words but as a visceral reaction to his touch. It feels the closest you’ll ever be to heaven and hell. Your arms slide up his chest to wrap around his broad back and haul him closer.
The grip on the side of your neck tightens, the silver of his rings digging in deliciously, his eyes strictly on yours. “I’m going to make you cum on my sucker,” he smirks childishly at the pun, but you’re putty in his hands and hang on his every sound. You can only nod pathetically. “And then I’m going to taste it.”
When you buck your hips closer, inviting his suggestive intentions, you feel exactly how hard he is against your thigh. The brief and searing contact has him rutting his bulge flush on your skin, mouth forming an O shape around a delirious moan that you promptly swallow, capturing his lips with yours.
Your orgasm is messy. It’s your teeth clashing, tongues wishing they’d reach even deeper, his hold working at it as he pulls you into him from your nape. It’s the lollipop hanging from your tightening heat, three fingers joining it and his thumb maintaining an uncoordinated pace on your nub. He devours your every whimper at the cold bite of his silver rings on your sensitive folds, and a particularly sharp groan when you feel the textured surface of one entering you alongside his long digits.
Eventually, you only convulse around them once you’ve answered his command.
“You’re mine. Tell me you are. Tell me you want this.” No matter how much he tries to project dominance, or how much older he wants to make himself sound like, the request comes out more as a beg, a plea, a desperate whine against your lips as if he’s constantly waiting on you to tell him what to do. Guide him, please him, tell him he’s doing a good job.
“Want this so fucking bad, Ggukkie. I’m yours, I’m yo—oh, fuck!”
Nonetheless, the incoherent and stuttered confession, the continuous and satisfied pulse of your hole and your body naturally pulling his clothed length closer is all the fuel he needs. Not that he requires much. He’s incessantly untiring when it comes to you and your pleasure.
Jeongguk swipes the dense, translucent fluid from your folds, welcoming the sweet result onto his flat tongue. He watches you as he swallows, lets his cheeks hollow around the taste as he proudly savours every last drop.
His eyes tell a whole other story, now. They’re wide and searching, seeking approval, reassurance, relief. The wet sounds are punctuated by his small whines, and you let his bucking hips beg just a moment longer before your hand finally ruffles his hair. Your breath is still frantic, brains still very much fucked.
“You’re so naughty,” it’s a whisper between you, mirroring the slow tipping of the slicked candy. It slips from his mouth with a string of saliva still connecting him to it, before you’re wrapping your own hungry lips around the treat.
Jeongguk groans, hand palming himself through the heavy denim of his jeans. He’s gradually surrendering his show of dominance, slowly losing himself to you and the hazed effect you cast over him.
“Fuck. Please, let me come,” his head leans into your hold, mouth capturing yours and the glistening, consumed lollipop held between you. You both suck on it, tongues swirling on its head and tangling with one another in a syrupy knot.
Guiding the stick, you push it further into his mouth, pressing the round head flat against his tongue. He’s completely pliant now, throat clicking with a shallow gag as you test how far he’ll let you go.
Smiling at his familiar obedience, you hop off the counter, a small whimper escaping you as your sensitive core hits the cool air. You leave the candy hanging from his lips before dropping to your knees. The lollipop eventually slips, clattering to the floor beside you, and his jaw almost follows, remains agape in shock.
When you press a kiss through the tension in his jeans, he hisses. “Oh fuck. Oh fuck, don’t do that. I’m gonna fucking— gonna fucking come.”
Matching his impatience, you decide to save the teasing for another day. You fumble with his belt and the metal of his zipper, peeling down his black denims to reveal a heavy, darkened patch of heat on his Calvin Kleins.
Finally letting his length spring free, a strained moan catches in his throat. His hand flies to your hair, fingers sliding down to cup your cheek with the tenderness that you know him for. You feel the rings pressing on that spot, might leave a mark, but you simply kiss his palm, briefly mouthing his thumb before turning your focus to his perfectly tall and thick cock, pulsing in your face.
Retreating the discarded lollipop, you trace the sticky candy on his base, drawing a rough groan from his chest. Then, following the sugary trail, you run your tongue along his entire length, swirling right over the tip.
“Baby, fuck— I’m so sorry,” his hold on your jaw tightens, cock twitching on your tongue and the tip of your nose. Your hand travels up his tight abs, lollipop staining his shirt with his own precum as you force him to look down at you. He’d kept his eyes squeezed shut, desperate to keep from unraveling in under a minute before you’d even truly started.
When he sees you — brows drawn up in confusion, eyes still glassy from your own release — and feels your warm, wet mouth closing around his head, he breaks. A wail escapes him as he throws his head back, spilling across your tongue and over your cheeks. His cock pumps relentlessly, feverishly.
You watch in awe, his face contorted in pleasure that almost seems painful and a fist closing around your locks.
Hooded gaze dropping back to yours, you find that his eyes are brimming. A single tear falls, lands unexpected on your forehead.
“I’m so— so sorry, noona,” his voice quivers and threatens to break into a sob. He’s still twitching with over-sensitivity when you alarmedly stand up, candy finally clattering to the floor so you can cradle his face in your palms.
“Goo, baby, it’s okay.” You smile reassuringly, peppering his flushed face with soft kisses. “We’ll try that again another time, hm? How’s that sound?”
He peeks at you shyly through his lashes, cheek seeking the comfort of your touch. He sniffs, tip of his nose a dusty red. “Really?”
You nod, brushing the damp hair from his forehead. “Really. You did so good.”
Jeongguk leans in, tongue catching the stray white spots on your cheeks before seeking the rest from your mouth. You both hum at the contact, fronts pressing together as he already begins to stir against you once more.
When you pull back, your nose scrunches as your foreheads rest against one another. “This was all so disgusting.”
He lets out a breathy, boyish chuckle. Makes it hard to believe he’s been the same guy ever since he stepped through the door.
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