𓄲 Jungkook's admission is so quiet that you almost thought you'd imagined it. But then he exhales shakily and you feel him go rigid under your palm again. He's blinking rapidly, his face pain-stricken. He parts his lips to speak, yet nothing comes out. Frustrated, he tries again but it only makes his voice crack and his face crumple, "They're my children and I couldn't protect them."
전정국 x f!reader ˖ ࣪ ꉂ🗯˙ ‹— cw dilf!jungkook single dad jungkook nanny!reader 1980s au slowburn fluff angst (eventual) explicit content age gap (jungkook is 30, reader is 20) oc!cassian/oc!rayne (jk's children) make him cryyyyy
⧽ word count ⋮ 6.1k
average reading time ⋮ 30 minutes
── [ ✉️ ] Ladies oh my god, your husband has returned from the great and dreadful war (not having a laptop). May we reunite and geek out over a 30yo man crying his guts out. Anyway, real talk for a sec, yeah? This was the longest I've ever gone without writing HW, I'm so used to working on it every single day that returning felt so strange. I feel like my writing was a little disconnected from the story (?) I genuinely don't think I've deleted and wrote shit only to delete it again this much ever before. So yeah, this is a mess of overthinking on my part. Last night I realised he needs to cry so I had to squeeze that in there and change a bunch of things up holy fuck it was a ride. What I'm trying to say is, my fragile ego is at an all time low so if you genuinely think is is ass, don't tell me. Lie to my face please. Alright that'd be all. Feedback in the comments/reblogs and asks are much appreciated <3
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chapter 29 — "Man Tears"
Attending an interview was a lot more nerve wracking than you'd imagined. You had landed the small part-time at the restaurant below your apartment through your parents who knew the owners — the application to become the nanny of Jungkook's children had been done through a short email.
It was safe to say that sitting down face to face with a complete stranger and trying to boast about all your amazing qualities was somewhat terrifying. But Namjoon had put in a good word for you, and you trusted him.
The interviewer was a woman in her late sixties. She wore a knitted, lilac sweater and big, round glasses that made her look like a bug when she blinked. It was slightly comical and you found yourself quite distracted by the blue mascara coating her lashes. The bold, orange lipstick certainly didn't aid your case either.
But she turned out to be a nice lady — Mrs. Lee — and she offered you a cup of tea as you sat down in a secluded corner of the library. She apologized for the noise even though the place was nearly vacant, then apologized again for the lack of professionalism regarding the entire thing. Apparently the staff room where these type of matters were usually handled was being re-painted. You told her it was no mind.
Truthfully you knew very little about literature and libraries. Visiting them was not something you did often — if ever — and you felt slightly out of your element here. Your eyes had scanned the selection of titles around you when Mrs. Lee went to fetch sugar for the beverage, recognizing a few.
Rayne would love this place, you thought. If all went well then perhaps you could get her some copies on a discount, at the very least you could surely borrow her a few, maybe even bring her along. The young girl had been on your mind ever since you pulled out of the driveway. You wondered how her and her brother were doing, had they arrived at their grandparents' yet? Was she feeling better?
Jungkook circled the back of your mind too, as he so often did. But you did not hold the same worrisome concerns for him, well, maybe only a little.. He'd looked nothing like himself — awful to put it short. His last words are still fresh, the pleas for you to stay and the tears he hadn't been able to keep at bay. The sight had tugged at your heart even when reason warred against it.
Mrs. Lee returned shortly, demanding your attention back to the interview at hand. It was a surprisingly pleasant experience. You learned that she had been running the little bookstore for thirty years now, together with her husband. But it was getting hard for her to stay on her feet during the long days and she was in need of someone else to run the front desk. You told her that you'd worked a short summer job in a shoe shop and knew how to deal with customers. That seemed to please her.
Namjoon was a regular here and they knew each other through frequent visits and shared interest for non-fiction. She said that he spoke highly of you which made you hide a flustered smile into your teacup.
The last ten minutes of the half hour long interview was spent discussing literature, though Mrs. Lee did most of the talking. You were content to listen to her ramble, watching her blue lashes blink rapidly with excitement. When it was over she thanked you and informed you that she'd be giving you a call before the end of the week.
You walked out of the small library feeling surprisingly light.
Though your peace was short lived. The second you made it home Jungkook returned to the forefront of your thoughts. It continued like that throughout the rest of the day, all the way into the late evening hours before you finally managed to pass out due to sheer exhaustion. Rayne had yet to make use of your number and your landline remained silent.
Tomorrow became today all too soon. And today meant that you would be seeing Jungkook. With a restless night of sleep you pull yourself through a breakfast that would've probably tasted just fine, had your own nerves not dulled your senses. You rethink your attire three times before settling on a simple, green sweater and jeans, which just made the ordeal of overthinking pointless.
The drive to the Jeon estate felt shorter than usual, even as you stalled by each light and kept well below the speed limit. Jungkook's car is parked in the driveway and you repeat yesterday's notion of boxing him in with your own.
After turning the engine off you sit in prolonged silence for a while. It had been so easy to tell him that you would stop by when he'd been clinging to you with tears rimming his eyes — you mentally scold your past self for caving so easily and forcing future you to deal with the consequences.
Five minutes pass and you know that you can't keep putting this off. So with a heavy sigh you tear yourself from the driver's seat, abandoning the safety of your car as you head for the front porch of the Jeon house with held breath. God, you usually weren't this nervous. Then again, Jungkook didn't usually cry at your feet.
You shrug once, attempting to shake the stiffness from your arms and legs as you hype yourself up whilst climbing the three stone steps.
The door looms ahead, tall and threatening as it beckons you closer and your feet obey without question. Your loosely curled fist hovers above the firm wood, hesitating. You had been going over what you thought to be each possible outcome of today. Some ended in tears, others in shouts and anger, a few rare ones in peace. Your knuckles tap twice — knock, knock — and you inhale a deep breath.
Often would you have to wait another half a minute or so, wallowing in lonesome silence as you listened for the footsteps coming down the stairs. But today the lock turns immediately, like whoever expecting you on the other side had been stationed there for some time.
The door swings open, revealing an oddly nervous-looking Jungkook. Nervous because he never smiled when greeting you. Yet there was a shy little tug at the corner of his lip, his gaze meeting yours for a brief second before it flickers to a spot in the distance. You return the gesture with a strained smile of your own, one that he catches through the corner of his eye.
He clears his throat then, rolling his shoulders once as his face schools itself back into neutrality and steps aside. The cold is left behind when you cross the threshold, the familiar air of the Jeon house wrapping around you in a hug that doesn't feel all too welcoming.
Jungkook closes the door and seals it quietly. The hallway is spacious but the remnants of yesterday makes it feel smaller where you stand. You shrug your coat off and he takes it from your hands without being asked — just like he always would.
You seize the opportunity to study his attire when his back is turned. He's dressed in tailored, black pants, the button up has been ditched for a sweater that hugs his frame, not skin tight but close enough for you to catch his bulging muscles when he reaches for a hanger.
Slipping out of your shoes, you place them neatly beside his and when you straighten back up you find him already watching you. He looks significantly better than he had yesterday. The bags under his eyes were still present — they wouldn't fade overnight. But his face was smooth again, he'd shaved and taken the time to style his hair like usual, a lonesome strand falling down his forehead and kissing one of his dark brows.
"Hi."
His voice is low yet perfectly audible. It's the first spoken word uttered between you and it was painfully awkward. Jungkook must realize this too because he shoves his hands into his pockets as he distracts himself with peering down at the floor, rocking back and forth on the soles of his feet.
You swallow, forcing your stiff posture into something more relaxed. "Hi," you say, busying your fingers with flattening your shirt, been rumpled by your coat.
The place was dead silent, no sign of neither Cassian nor Rayne. You guessed they were still at their grandparents' house. That meant this would be the second time you found yourself alone with Jungkook within these four walls — only this time it was for entirely different reasons.
The two of you continue to stand by the door, unmoving as the air crackles around you. Jungkook lifts his gaze to peer at you through his lashes, lips pressing together before parting. "You look nice." A simple compliment that for some reasons sits a little heavier right now.
You nod, "Thank you."
He looks as though he wants to say more, his next exhale coming out as half a hum only for him to stop himself again. Another ten seconds pass until he finally blurts out, "How was your interview?"
The inquiry makes you pause, you hadn't expected him to bring that up now of all times. You hesitate, "It went well. I think I might get the job." You end with a noncommittal shrug though couldn't help but feel excited at the prospect of securing the simple position.
Jungkook notices the glimmer in your eyes and you don't know if you love or hate that he does. "That's good," he croaks but doesn't sound like he entirely means it. He brings a hand up to push through his hair, his jaw going tense before relaxing. "New car?" he then asks, tilting his chin in the direction of the door as though it was see-through.
You follow his gaze, lips pursing together. "My parents' Christmas gift." The car had been in your possession for almost a month by now — suppose you and Jungkook hadn't had much time to converse about such mundane changes as of late.
He nods slowly but doesn't bother with further questions, though his attention lingers on the handle. The real reason for your presence had yet to be brought up, he was stalling, had been for the past five minutes and it takes him another one to speak again.
"I—" his tongue darts out to swipe across his bottom lip, "I didn't think you would actually come." His carefully put-together appearance argued otherwise but you make no comment on it. Jungkook quickly adds, "But I'm glad you did. I am."
Each sentence comes out slightly strained, improvised almost, which was somewhat endearing for a man of his caliber. You might've made a remark on it had you not been upset with him still. Rayne's tears are engraved deep in your heart, as is Cassian's pitiful face. The man before you had more than a little explaining to do to get himself back in your good graces.
"I told you I would."
You barely recognize the cold tone you used, it tastes foreign on your tongue and you're not sure you like it. Jungkook nearly winces, his face twisting into a pained grimace for half a second before he smooths it back out. "I know I just—" he cuts himself off, shaking his head as if mentally erasing what he was about to say.
Shifting his weight from one foot to the other, he clears his throat a second time. "I've been thinking about how I... want to do this." His gaze meets yours, dark and intense but not in the way you'd become so accustomed to. This one held something more conflicted.
"I'm not very good all of this," he gestures to the space between you, "Talking, I mean." A frustrated sigh slips past his unguarded lips and you watch as he sucks the inside of his cheek between his teeth, chewing on the flesh anxiously.
Then he suddenly turns toward the stairs, sending them a pointed look. "I thought I'd show you instead."
You, too, regard the steps you'd climbed so many times before — your own curiosity spiked in lack of better judgment. Jungkook's eyes are hot against the side of your face as he studies you intently, waiting for your permission — which he receives in the form of a barely-there nod.
The sound of your joint footsteps echo throughout the vacant house as you make your way to the second floor. The Jeon estate had always been cold but without Cassian's warm laughter and Rayne's witty commentary it feels almost hostile.
Jungkook walks by your side, keeping his hands to himself, buried deep within his pockets. You don't know where he's taking you and you don't stop to question it, he wouldn't give a satisfactory response even if you did. As you pass his study, and then his bedroom, you can't help but frown. Though your confusion seems to be of no matter to him as he comes to a stop by a door you recognize all too well.
Your earliest encounter with it had been on your first day as the appointed nanny to his children, where you had tried the handle over and over only to find the door stubbornly locked in place. Despite your best efforts, the damned thing had lingered in the back of your mind since, filling you with questions left unanswered — until now.
Jungkook's hand retreats from the confines of his pants, and in his palm a small key rests. The silver glints when he grips it and your eyes are drawn to the shimmer. You had always wondered what could possibly be sacred enough for it to be kept sealed away from the rest of the house, and your heart rate picks up at the thought of finally learning why.
He shoves the key inside the lock and twists, it gives a soft click and suddenly the door falls open.
You expect him to step inside first but Jungkook remains rooted to the spot, his gaze set on something ahead, but exactly what you couldn't pinpoint. His expression is unreadable, though the tension in his jaw contradicts his carefully weaved together composure.
It takes you a full minute to realize that he was not going to enter and so you take it upon yourself to do so regardless. The floorboards creak under your weight, abnormally loud as you leave him waiting on the doorstep.
The smell is what hits you first. It's stale. Not necessarily bad — the room doesn't smell unpleasant — but stale nonetheless. It was the same kind of smell that clung to houses on hot summer mornings where the window hadn't been opened in days. You decide that it must be the case for the one in here looks unused. The glass is grimy, something that wouldn't have caught your eye anywhere else, but the Jeon estate didn't do grime.
The room you stand in is a bedroom. If the large king-sized bed in the center wasn't enough of a giveaway then the dresser to your left certainly was. A thick layer of dust coats the dark mahogany wood — leading you to believe that it had been long since it was last shown an ounce of care.
You cast your attention across the entirety of the small room — the one you had been kept away from all this time had been a place so simple it almost felt mocking.
But the longer you stare, the bigger the pit in your stomach grows. There was something wrong with the space. If the Jeon house was cold and distant then this was the heart of it all. The wound which the venom seeped from.
On quiet feet you approach the bed. The sheets are a rumpled mess, unwashed and thrown to the side the way yours would look on mornings where you scrambled off the mattress in a rush. No one had bothered to straighten them. The pillows are dented too, marked by whoever slept there last.
You reach out, fingers hovering shy of the soft cotton. For some reason you can't bring yourself to touch. The feeling in your chest is unexplainable — not hostile — it resembled more of a warning. You weren't welcome here, no one was, not even Jungkook.
He's frozen on the threshold and when you glance over you find a sorrowful frown on his face. His arms are crossed tightly over his chest as he regards you from his spot.
"This was your room."
You don't have to phrase it as a question for the answer was written right before you. He nods anyway, a small dip of his chin that looks like it hurt. The 'was' echoes painfully and you think of the guest room he currently occupied. What had made him close this one off? What had made him keep it behind a lock to shield it even from his children? What was he hiding from?
Jungkook lets his hands fall to his sides as he finally steps inside. His foot touches the same floorboard yours had, the groan of wood returning as he slowly makes his way over to where you stand.
His elbow brushes yours but he doesn't pull back, simply staring down at the same sheets you were. "She slept on this side," he says, "Didn't like the left one because she thought it brought bad luck."
Your breath lodges itself in your throat at the mention of her, of Yelena. Jungkook rarely spoke of her and when he did it was with utmost detachment. This is different. His voice, though barely above a whisper, carries emotion. Reminiscent of a time long lost.
You gaze down at the comforter. It wasn't hard to picture her resting her head on the pillows — the traces she'd left behind served enough proof. But it was hard to imagine Jungkook. You'd grown so used to his distance that the idea of closeness between him and the woman you met all those weeks ago seemed impossible.
"She spent a lot of time here toward the end," he continues without looking at you. His eyes are anchored to the spot on the bed, you wondered if maybe it helped him find the words. "Hated it when the children disturbed her, even more when I did."
You glance at his hand, dangling only an inch from your own. His fingers are trembling and it makes your heart twist uncomfortably.
"So I just let her be for most of the time," Jungkook murmurs. He inhales deeply, taking what little breathe-able air remained inside the room with him. His eyes flutter and his brows crease, like he was fighting back unfriendly thoughts. You wait for him to say more but he never does.
The sun that spills through the dirty windows reflect onto the pale sheets, whispering quiet sorrows to the abandoned fabric. You regard the minuscule particles floating in the air and catching on the intruding rays as you wonder where they might be headed. You end up dedicating another minute to uncovering the mystery, giving up and turning to the dresser you'd previously disregarded when no conclusion was drawn.
Your legs carry you across the room, stopping short of the closed drawers. There was a picture frame sitting on top of the dark wood, covered in a layer of dust just like everything else.
The image however, is still intelligible. It's a photo of Yelena standing in an open meadow. Her skin is warmly kissed by the sun and the breeze plays with her dress. She has one hand in her hair to keep it out of her smiling face, the other clutching a bouquet of flowers to her chest.
She looks happy.
The woman in the picture was not the same Yelena who'd appeared on the doorstep three weeks ago. No, this was the woman Jungkook had fallen in love with. The woman Cassian and Rayne called mother. She was gorgeous and the longer you study the photograph the more of the children you saw in her.
You pick the frame up carefully, like one would a precious artifact, as you bring it up to your face. Somewhere in the distance there's movement, the sound of Jungkook forcing himself over to stand behind your shoulder. He says nothing but you can feel his uneven breath where it fans across the slope of your neck.
"She's beautiful," you compliment, thumb stroking the edge of the frame, though you dare not attempt to wipe the dust away.
He doesn't acknowledge your comment, hasn't spoken in a while. You wouldn't force him to, but your heart longed for answers. Your curiosity had a habit of taking you a little too far, you suppose today was no different. Without glancing up from the picture, you ask: "What happened?"
Jungkook's next exhale hitches halfway and you can practically feel the tension radiating off of him given the proximity of your bodies.
You weren't oblivious to the state in which Yelena stumbled into the living room on that afternoon. She had been all hollow cheeks, pale skin and raw-bitten lips. Her skittish demeanor and wandering eyes had been impossible to miss. To assume some form of substance to be involved was easy — it was the most plausible explanation after all.
But even as you braced yourself for his response, nothing could have prepared you for the words that came out of his mouth next.
"I watched her die."
Jungkook's voice is strained with emotion, with grief. Yet he says it calmly, as a matter-of-fact-ly. Yelena was not dead, not really. You had seen her, spoken to her and she had responded. Your studies taught death as a physical cease of existence, something implemented into all biology — an inevitable end to life.
Yelena's body was alive, battered and bruised but her heart still beats. The photograph stares back at you tauntingly. Her body may be alive but the woman in the picture was dead. The children's mother was dead. Jungkook's former wife was dead.
"She died slowly," he whispers over your shoulder, his own gaze likely fixed to the frame as well. "I was there for each second." He pauses and you can feel him swallow another lungful of air, "I tried not to let the children see but I couldn't keep them away from their mother." There's a bitter edge to the tone he uses but it's not directed to neither Cassian nor Rayne.
You imagine a much younger Cassian knocking on the door to this room. You imagine him crawling into bed with his mom. You imagine his confusion when she rejects him. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes at the thought of the children — who you had come to love so fiercely without even meaning to — having to witness their own parent like that.
There's a long moment that follows where the two of you concern yourself with nothing but regarding the photo held in your grasp. Such a beautiful picture, withering away in such an ugly reality.
Jungkook's hand brushes against your hip, an accidental touch that lasts only for a fleeting second before he pulls it back. But you still notice, and your attention drops, watching his trembling fingers — worse now — his thumb was twitching sharply. You don't think to stop yourself as you let go of the frame, reaching out to lace your fingers with his as your palms press together.
The trembling doesn't stop but at least there was something to hold onto, even if it was small. He tightens the gentle grip you had taken, clinging on so fervently that one might think he was drowning. In some ways he might be.
You set the picture frame down on the dresser, back into its designated spot which was a small patch of wood that had yet to be covered in dust. Then you finally bring yourself to turn around and meet his gaze with your own. His ever piercing eyes had this way of always pinning you to the spot, yet they seem unable to find their target — they keep flickering across your face, searching anxiously for something.
Wordlessly you lead him back toward the bed, hand in hand. Jungkook makes no verbal objections, though his feet drag him across the floor dreadfully. When you reach the edge of the mattress you pause, hesitating to as much as touch this sacred time capsule. It's his shallow breath and clammy grip that wins you over in the end, and you sink down on the soft mattress, tugging him closer.
His limbs lock up, the blunt edges of his nails cutting into your hand. You wait for him, you wait for what feels like an entire minute, until he finally sits down beside you ever so carefully. Your thigh is pressed against his and though you could move to create space to breathe, you don't think you want to.
Jungkook's head is hanging low, his jaw working silently as he peers at the floor like he hoped for it to swallow him whole. You take his shaking fist in both palms, fingers tracing his knuckles one by one.
"I should have made her leave long before I did," he murmurs with a frustrated sigh. The regret bleeds through in his voice, raw and shameful. "But I though that— I thought that she would get better." He inhales sharply through his nose, brows furrowing across his forehead as he presses his lips together. "I was selfish."
You want to tell him that he was not, only you don't know how. And Jungkook was too lost within his own memories to even register if you spoke. So you bite your tongue.
Minutes pass, how long exactly was impossible to tell without a clock and you stopped counting after two hundred seconds. Jungkook continues breathing through his nose, in and out, you listen to each inhale and exhale. His back is tense, his shoulders drawn up high and you don't question yourself when reaching out to trace your fingers down his spine, the same way you had his knuckles.
He stiffens at first, his muscles pulling taut before fading as he leans into the caress. You remain just like that for a while longer, with him avoiding your gaze and you getting wrapped up in the things he'd just told you.
"I couldn't protect them."
Jungkook's admission is so quiet that you almost thought you'd imagined it. But then he exhales shakily and you feel him go rigid under your palm again. He's blinking rapidly, his face pain-stricken. He parts his lips to speak, yet nothing comes out. Frustrated, he tries again but it only makes his voice crack and his face crumple, "They're my children and I couldn't protect them."
His breath was coming in quicker now — like he was struggling for air — and you watch clearly as the first tear escapes and slides down his cheek. The sight makes your stomach twist as a sense of helplessness crashes over you.
The hand you'd kept on his back slides to his shoulder and you pull him closer. Jungkook's tense frame is surprisingly pliant and he turns just enough to fall limply into your embrace. His head is a heavy weight against your chest, ear pressed over your beating heart as he fights through the emotions inside his own.
You manage to hook your arm across his broad shoulders, fingers drawing idle circles onto his bicep through the fabric of his sweater. His hair tickles your chin slightly and you instinctively reach your spare hand up to run it through the soft locks. Jungkook shudders against you, a stifled sob slipping past his gritted teeth.
"You did your best," you whisper as your nails scratch at the nape of his neck. Then you lean down to press a kiss to the crown of his head, ignoring the way your heart clenches when he clings even harder — arms wrapping around your waist desperately as he claws at the back of your shirt. "You did good."
Wet tears soak your neckline. He cries silently but each dry heave feels like a gunshot. You wish you could offer more than just your presence, you wish there was something you could say to make it all better — but there was nothing. So you resort to holding him tightly.
You don't know for how long the two of you sit on the edge of that bed. Time had lost all meaning, you would get up when he was ready to. Your nose stays buried in his hair, breathing in the scent that was him with each inhale. The hand on his arm continues tracing its gentle patterns, the one on the back of his head too.
You don't think about anything anymore. The entire day had been wasted on worrying about this moment. Wasted on mulling over your interview. Wasted on thoughts of Yelena. Wasted on trying to piece together what made him act the way he did when really, all you had to do was listen.
The wait stretches on. Waiting was all you had done today but you found that you didn't mind. Eventually Jungkook's tears ebbed away and his breathing evened out. His shoulders stopped shaking and his body grew even heavier as exhaustion washed over him. He still didn't pull back and you had no intentions of letting him go.
"I'm sorry," he whispers against your collarbone. The apology comes out raspy, the remnants of his sobs manifesting themselves in his vocal cords. "I just—" You hear him swallow once, turning to press his forehead to your chest, "I'm scared. I'm scared of a lot of things."
Your fingers come to a slow halt in his hair and you loosen your hold when he straightens up a fraction. It brings your faces close together, close enough for you to see the dried tracks on his cheeks, the redness to his eyes and his damp lashes that smudge residual tears when he blinks.
He isn't frowning anymore, in fact all tension was gone form his features. It felt like seeing a clear sky after heavy rain. His gaze meets yours for the first time since you sat down, and in it you find hope.
"But I want to make it right." The hands that had previously been gripping the back of your shirt slide down to rest on either side of your waist, "This. You and… me."
You know that you should've probably said something by now but the truth is you had no idea what that might be. Jungkook doesn't push you for a response though, in fact his attention had dropped to your lips — his own parting slightly as he leaned closer, only to stop himself again.
Your heart stumbles over its next beat when you realize that he'd been one impulsive tick away from doing something that would complicate an already fragile situation, just barely managing to catch himself before pushing you both over the edge. His brows furrow, frustration shadowing his expression before vanishing again.
An act of closeness, that's what you try to dismiss it as. The need to feel connected to another human being, if only for a second. That perhaps it was a way for him to simply quiet the storm that had just passed through him and nothing else.
But Jungkook's eyes tell an entirely different story.
The bed creaks when he shifts on it, not to put space between you but to eliminate it further. He draws a deep breath, his chest rising slowly with the inhale. His hands press firmer against your waist, fingers twitching just enough to betray his nervousness at whatever he was about to say next. You regard the single strand of hair falling across his crinkled forehead — the frown he wears so deeply embedded between his brows.
The room shrinks around you as the walls creep closer. You recognize that look, you've seen it on him before. Parted lips. Dazed eyes. You knew what he wants for you want it just the same. Knowing that you cannot trust neither him nor yourself to actually give it up, even after all of today, is what hurts the most. He must understand that too, surely? Yet he braces himself to ask anyway.
He swallows thickly — throat straining every step of the way — the sound is deafening against the silence you had been left to linger in after his last words, and his next are exactly what you expect. "I want to kiss you." His voice is barely above a whisper, though it had regained some of its strength. The statement treads on a trembling sigh and a second later he quietly adds, "Can I?"
Your teeth press down on your tongue to stop it from saying something it shouldn't. Jungkook's jaw is clenched tight, a muscle in his cheek ticking like he, too, was fighting the urge to let himself be reckless. He already knows what you'll tell him — his wavering gaze gives away more than he thinks.
Finally, you shake your head, ignoring the stubborn call of your heart as you open your mouth. "No."
The rejection stings but there's no surprise to be found on him. Instead he simply nods, a single dip of his chin. "Figured you'd say that," he murmurs with another sharp exhale through his nose.
The sun had passed its highest point in the sky long ago, it was now peeking directly through the window, spectating the scene inside. Its rays caress the side of his face, highlighting the evidence of his earlier tears and you realize that you weren't content to end the moment like this.
Jungkook's gaze flickers to your hand when it reaches for his cheek, letting you cup it in your palm. His lashes flutter but his eyes never fully close as they continue to regard you half-lidded.
He inhales quietly, "You shouldn't do that."
You can't help but frown, your thumb — which had been stroking the high of his cheek — pausing mid-caress. "Do what?"
Without looking away, he reaches his own hand up to cover yours where it rests against his cheek. His touch is warm, Jungkook always was. He lets out the breath he'd just taken, it mixes with yours. "Touch me like this. Makes me think about things I don't deserve." Even as he says it, he makes no attempt of pulling away, if anything he presses his face firmer into your palm.
His skin is alive under the tips of your fingers. You know that you could spend hours mapping out each fine detail and never be satisfied. But his statement makes you think, and thinking makes you ask questions.
"Like?"
Jungkook sighs, "You."
The admission makes your brows pull together even deeper. He speaks of himself with such despisal and though you were admittedly upset with him still, you didn't like hearing him talk like that. No less did you enjoy him declaring it as though it had always been his decision.
"I decide if you deserve me." Your voice doesn't waver and for that you're thankful.
He blinks once, lips parting, clearly not having expected that response. Five seconds pass, then ten, fifteen. His fingers curl around yours, keeping your hand where he can feel it. "And do I?"
You think back to the weeks you spent in the dark, without as much as a call from him. It doesn't make you angry, not anymore, but it still leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. So does the memory of Cassian and Rayne yesterday. "I don't know yet." It's as close to the truth as you're going to get.
Then you think back to Namjoon, to the kiss you'd shared under the fireworks — and the fact that Jungkook had still found his way inside your mind, even when another man's lips were on yours. You try not to acknowledge the way your heart thunders in your chest as you chew on the inside of your cheek. "I want you to."
He goes completely still at that, fingers twitching on top of your own as he swallows. "Then let me make it right." Reaching for your other hand, he brings it to his lips, hesitating like he expects you to pull away. When you don't he presses a reverent kiss to your knuckles.
For a second you almost consider throwing all sense of reason out the window and letting him kiss you properly. The tender feelings in your heart screams for you to do just that and you want to give in so bad that it physically hurts.
"Please," he whispers, "I can't stand seeing you walk away a second time." His gaze drops to your hand, a quiet breath spilling across your fingers before he lifts it again. "Let me do good by you."
── [ ✉️ ] Be real, was it terrible? Wait no I don't want to know. Let's just all say it was alright and hold hands and kiss. Okay okay great <3 There's a lot more to unpack so don't go thinking "oh they're back together, oh she forgave him" NO! He has work to do.
you love your boyfriend, you really do. he's your soulmate in every way and the person you are sure you'll spend the rest of your life with. but the man is forgetful.
and after a long three months of being apart, with him being abroad for his band's tour, you were eager to reunite. after all, seeing each other again meant lots and lots of reunion sex... until he groans when he reaches into his nightstand and finds nothing but an empty box of condoms.
"what? what's wrong?" you frown, already completely naked under the love of your life whose expression mirrors yours. pure frustration. his groan is low, doing nothing to help the pool of arousal between your thighs, but it's not good.
"no condoms, baby. forgot to stock up," he admits with a sheepish smile, scratching the back of his neck.
you've got to be kidding.
your legs were already wrapped around him, the tip of his throbbing cock brushing your sopping cunt. you'd waited months for this... but you also were no longer on birth control because there were too many negative side effects worsening your health. and taehyung and you were in absolutely no position to risk getting pregnant: he is at the height of his career as an idol and you're busy working your way up in yours.
so all you can do is throw your head back on his stupidly soft pillows and whine. "tae! are you kidding?" you huff and he pecks your lips in apology.
“i am so sorry, love," he laughs breathlessly against your mouth, though the sound is laced with genuine regret. taehyung drops his forehead onto your bare shoulder, his body weight pressing you into the mattress, hot and heavy and entirely unfair. "i swear i mentally added it to my list like ten times while i was in tokyo, but i guess i forgot."
he sighs at the sight of your familiar pout. "i know, sweet girl, i know," he groans, pressing his perfect nose into your neck and inhaling deeply, as if to memorise your comforting scent after months apart.
he grunts quietly, his hips rolling instinctively. the blunt head of his cock slides through your soaked folds without penetration, just enough friction to make you jolt in his big arms. "fuck, baby. you're so wet for me."
"my poor needy girl," he murmurs sympathetically, immediately recognising that devastating whine of yours. he knows exactly what you wanted— to be ruined, filled up, and fucked thoroughly after three months of separation. he presses kiss after wet kiss down your neck, swallowing your frustration. "i know. i wanted to fuck you into next week."
you have to smile at that, but you turn your face into the pillows, nothing but pure lust taking over. the feeling of his bare cock nestled between your folds is too addictive.
he laughs darkly, the vibration rumbling against your chest as he leans down to bite gently at the exposed curve of your shoulder. "don't hide that pretty face, angel. i know you wanted to be ruined." he shifts his weight, the thick, heavy length of him resting hot and impossible against your slick heat, teasing you without giving you what you crave.
"taehyung," you mewl, grinding your hips up to meet his. "i need you," you whine, beyond reason.
the brunette man groans desperately, his hips rolling back with you, giving you just enough pressure to make you gasp. "baby, baby, i can't fucking do that right now." he nuzzles into your neck, sucking hard enough to leave a hickey as he tries to suppress his obvious need.
"but i need you! need something!" you groan in pure frustration, lust and anticipation coursing through your tense frame.
"i know, baby, let me help you," he coos immediately, his large, veiny hand sliding between your sweaty bodies. he doesn't hesitate, dragging two thick fingers through your soaking folds before pressing them directly against your aching clit, rubbing tight, devastating circles. "'m not gonna leave you hanging, pretty girl. just gonna use my fingers and mouth, yeah?"
you nod so quickly it's almost pathetic, but luckily he just finds you adorable.
he chuckles softly, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead before sliding down your body. "that's my good girl," he praises, his fingers continuing their relentless circles on your clit while his other hand spreads your thighs wider apart.
taehyung had always been bigger compared to you, and not just the monster between his legs. his hands can span the entire expanse of your torso, his body completely covers you in bed. it's almost obscene how he can easily manhandle you but it's something you find insanely hot.
not to mention, he's a god with his hands.
he utilises that size difference effortlessly, his huge hand easily pinning your hips to the mattress while his fingers work with devastating precision. "look at you," he murmurs, his velvety voice dropping an octave as he watches the way your body reacts to him. his hand practically swallows your lower abdomen, his long fingers curling to rub that perfect, punishing rhythm against your clit that has you seeing stars.
"so fucking pretty for me," he continues, his voice a low rumble as he leans down, pressing a kiss directly below your navel. his other hand joins the first, his thumb and middle finger spreading your folds apart while his index finger presses directly into your entrance, starting a slow, shallow thrusting motion.
his fingers curve, circling the head of your clit with deliberate, expert pressure— tapping, rubbing, pulling your swollen bud between his thumb and forefinger as he slides his index finger deep inside you.
"mmm, breathe for me, sweetheart," he commands gently, the way he knows will make you chase after his touch. one finger, then two, stretching you slowly.
his calloused thumb keeps working your clit in tight, relentless circles while he taps out a slow, methodical rhythm. two fingers curl against that sweet spot just above your entrance. you're so wet that it's a quiet, slick mess between your thighs. "that's it, baby," he purrs, voice low and rough. "just like that. i missed this."
your moans are never quiet with taehyung, even when you grab one of his cushions and shove your mouth into it to suppress them. he chuckles, pulling it away. "let me hear you, baby."
your pretty eyes roll back at his stimulation. you'd always had a thing for his praise, especially how he gently commands you in ways that make heat pool in your stomach. "m-missed you too, tae!" you manage to blurt out between moans.
he rewards your enthusiasm with three fingers now, his thumb adding just the right amount of pressure right where you need it, rubbing your clit in firm, steady circles that have your hips grinding helplessly against his hand.
"i know, i know," he whispers, kissing your inner thigh. "my sweet girl missed my fingers inside you? missed getting spoiled by me?"
"mhm, that's it," he murmurs against your skin as he adds a fourth finger, curling them deliberately against that sensitive spot. his thumb never stops its punishing rhythm on your clit— hard, direct, knowing exactly how much you can take. the wet sounds are obscene, thick and sloppy, echoing through the quiet room. "such a good girl for me."
you shake your head, gripping a pillow as you gasp for air. "'s too much! c-can't take it!" you cry out as his lip tugs up. he knows your body better than you do and that includes exactly how much you can take. and four fingers is nothing compared to his thick length.
"oh, baby, i know exactly how much you can take," he smirks, his fingers curling deeper, hitting that spot inside you that makes your toes curl. he pulls them out slowly, only to slam them back in hard, making you see stars. "you can take a lot more than this."
he watches your face scrunch up, your nails digging into the pillow. "three months is a long time to keep this pretty pussy waiting," he says with dark amusement, his fingers working inside you, finding each nerve ending like he's memorised your map in his head. "i missed making you fall apart."
taehyung leans back up to kiss you sloppily, his tongue working wonders in unison with his hand. when he pulls away, resting his forehead on yours, your eyes flutter open and notice his neglected cock. throbbing and purple at the tip with the need to release.
his breath hitches sharply, a low, guttural sound rumbling in his chest as you wrap your fingers around his thickening length without warning. his jaw clenches, the muscle working hard as he fights his own composure.
"baby," he warns, voice strained, rough. "that's… you don't want to do that." his hand presses against the mattress, knuckles turning white.
"why not?" you tease innocently, giving his thick, heavy shaft a slow pump. he throws his head back, a guttural groan tearing from his throat, his abs contracting violently as you swipe your thumb over the sensitive, leaking tip. "you said we can't fuck," you purr, your hand working him in time with the thrust of his fingers inside you. it's heaven.
"we can't," he pants, but his hips are starting to move into your touch, his thick cock swelling in your hand. "but god, baby, if you keep touching me like that…" his fingers speed up inside you, thumb rubbing your clit faster as you jack him off. your eyes roll back, revelling in the implication that he might give in and fuck you.
he notices the way your pupils dilate, the way your hips tilt up unconsciously— your body practically pleading with him. the way your fingers stroke him like you're trying to seduce him out of a fight. his expression hardens, jaw clenching as he watches your hand on his length. "stop," he commands, though his voice is strained.
you don't stop, of course. you wrap your grip tighter, thumb dragging over his slit, collecting the wetness beading at the tip. he hisses, his fingers stuttering inside you for a second before resuming their relentless pace. the sounds between you are obscene now— your wetness coating everything, his cock leaving smeared tracks over your knuckles.
"fuck, baby," he groans and his voice cracks deliciously, completely wrecked. his fingers curl viciously inside you, hitting that spot that makes your whole body seize up, matching the pace of your own hand.
"i told you to stop, angel," he grunts but his hips buck helplessly into your fist, his cock throbbing so hard you can feel the pulse against your palm.
"why?" you blink innocently, legs subtly shaking with your pending orgasm.
"because i'm trying not to fuck a baby into you right now," he hisses, eyes blazing with frustrated, unspent lust. "come on. hands off, bunny. i'm serious."
he's dead serious, but his cock is leaking, proving otherwise. he's desperate. maybe more than you are. so you disobey him, naturally. you know he won’t really mind in the end.
you flip your wrist, adding pressure to the base of his shaft, squeezing hard enough that a broken groan escapes him. his head drops to your neck, teeth sinking into your collarbone— hard.
“oh fuck,” he groans, not making any move to stop you. but his fingers double their assault, curling and thrusting so fast and deep that your pussy clenches violently around him.
it hits you both simultaneously— a whiteout explosion that tears a loud man from your mouth and a guttural roar from his. you clamp down violently around his four fingers, soaking his hand, while he spills thick and hot all over your stomach and fist, his entire body seizing up above yours.
the room spins, your ears ringing, but the moment the high fades, his entire demeanour shifts. you're in for it.
the aftershocks make your legs tremble, your orgasm still rolling through you in waves. but taehyung's expression has gone completely dark: pupils blown wide, jaw clenched, chest heaving. his cum drips down your stomach, and his fingers are still inside you, twitching with residual pleasure but now something far more hungry.
your boyfriend grunts lowly, pulling his cum-slicked fingers from your soaked pussy. the wet sound is obscene in the heavy silence and you whine at the sudden loss. he presses a palm to your stomach, spreading his mess down your skin.
his hand moves with quiet intent, spreading his mess across your bare skin in a slow, intimate ritual. his thumb drags the hot liquid down toward your hip, then back up, then out across your lower stomach. it’s almost tender, almost a caress, but there's a possessiveness in the way he claims your skin with his mark.
your lips part. he’s unfair. he shouldn’t be able to mess with you like this with no promise of satisfying your growing need. he knows he’s playing dirty, but it’s only getting you both more worked up.
“tae,” you whine, a final resort. “please just fuck me? you can pull out!”
your boyfriend lets out a breathy, jagged laugh, his head dropping to rest against yours as he stares down at your flushed, desperate face. his eyes are dark, heavy with the kind of lust that feels like it could burn the bedsheets. or the entire house down for all you care.
"pull out?" he repeats, the words a low, gravelly rasp against your ear.
"baby..." he drags his sticky fingers up your stomach, leaving a glistening trail right between your breasts. "we both know i’m terrible at pulling out." his voice dips lower, rougher. "you really think i can fuck you raw, after three months, and actually have the self-control to pull out?" his thumb brushes over your bottom lip.
you hate that he has a point… so all you can do is pout.
his thumb brushes your pout, nearly making you melt right then and there. god, your face. the flushed cheeks, the swollen lips, the desperate little whine you let out. it should be illegal.
"don’t give me that look," he mutters, but his thumb lingers on your lower lip longer than necessary.
taehyung’s eyes dip down to where your thighs are still shaking, still slick and open and aching after your orgasm. the sight makes his jaw clench so hard you hear his teeth grind.
"you're still so wound up," he observes, voice flat but his own cock is already twitching against your thigh, betraying him completely. he sighs heavily, pressing his forehead to yours.
“yeah? why don’t you do something about it?”
taehyung lets out a guttural sound that is half-growl, half-sigh, the sheer willpower required to stay still clearly taxing him. he stares into your eyes for a long beat, searching your expression, seeing nothing but the blatant hunger you have for him.
"you are fucking trouble, my love," he grunts, but the words are thick with devotion. and then you get what you begged for. the three months apart was worth it.
.𖥔 ݁ ˖ Ever since Spiderman saved you and your cat Luna from a fire, you’ve made a habit of finding your way into crime scenes just to see him again. The crimes themselves are minor, sure, but Spiderman’s patience –on the other hand– is anything but.
That is, until his dna undergoes a deep biological mutation, leaving him unable to control himself and his arachnid senses.
pairing: (brand new day)spiderman!jungkook x f!reader
genre: fluff, smut, tiny bit of angst?
warnings: tba
wc: 341 for the teaser
⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒
You hear police sirens approaching in the distance, and before the three men can get very far, thick strands of webbing suddenly shoot across their bodies, stopping them in their tracks and pinning them together.
“Were you guys going somewhere?”
His voice reaches you before you can even spot him, your heart recognizing it before your eyes can find him. The robbers, however, don’t look worried in the slightest. Their expressions remain strangely calm, almost satisfied, as though this is exactly what they wanted. “We were waiting for you.”
It’s already too late to flee when you notice one of the three men pressing a tiny red button hidden in his hand.
“Run!” Spiderman urges everyone to get out of the way, and luckily, they actually manage to move in time.
You, however, aren’t quite as lucky. You knew you shouldn’t have canceled your gym membership when, in your desperate attempt to keep up with everyone else, you find yourself falling further and further behind the crowd. Your legs are burning as you force yourself to keep running, but apparently all those years of convincing yourself that walking around campus counted as exercise have finally caught up with you.
A wave of scorching air suddenly hits your back, and a tiny yelp escapes you before you even have time to scream. You hit the ground, completely taken off guard, fully convinced that your skin is about to be melted off and covered in second degree burns. But that doesn’t happen.
Instead, a heavy body suddenly lands on top of you, shielding you from the worst of the heat as his entire body covers yours. A deep groan rumbles right behind you, and with him still covering you, you manage to turn your head just enough to see Spiderman’s head resting against your shoulder. For a few seconds, neither of you moves.
Eventually, he lifts his head and looks directly at you, and a long, almost suffocating silence settles between you as you stare at each other.
“Of course it’s you.” He slowly pushes himself up, clearly in pain, before holding out a hand to help you up. You take it, letting him pull you to your feet before slowly finding your balance without needing to lean against him. Your ears are still ringing from the explosion, and you stand there trying to figure out what just happened while he stays close, making sure you don’t fall again.
“Are you doing this on purpose? You really fucking need to stop showing up.”
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
author’s note:
hello everyone! i’ve been working on this for a while, and i truly hope you guys will enjoy it! I’ll add the link to the main story once it’s posted!
You don’t need to have seen the new spiderman movie to read this! There shouldn’t be any spoilers aside from the dna mutation thing and everything that follows from it, which you can already figure out from the trailer anyway! Of course i decided to add a little bit of… spice to that ;)
yoongi x you (femreader) | 1.7k words
summ. — grumpy x sunshine and domestic bliss with yoon
genre — fluff, lil bit of angst
a/n — thank you lovely anon who requested this!
masterlist
—
Yoongi was the Luke to your Lorelai, the Roy to your Keeley – on paper there was no logical reason why your dynamic worked, polar opposites in almost every way.
He walked on the darker side of life; a little mysterious, quietly confident and self assured but humble, wildly charming and devilishly handsome. He was the kind of guy who kept his heart tucked into his pocket, staunchly loyal with a secret smile brighter than the stars he swore you hung in the night sky.
In contrast, you were sunshine personified and you wore your heart on your sleeve. Your friends would describe you as generous, intelligent, caring and ridiculously beautiful – the kind of girl who made any room she walked into cooler, better.
On paper, it wasn’t written clearly but you were like moths to a flame. Love-struck.
It started small with knowing smiles and inside jokes – my god, you had jokes for days! And he laughed at every single one, without fail. Head thrown back and smile lines crinkling together kind of laugh, creating a jigsaw you desperately wanted to piece together. You loved his dry sense of humour – dark, macabre jokes sprinkled with tasteful sarcasm that he saved just for you. So yeah, on paper, you couldn’t make sense of it, how your heart felt safe with someone so different to you.
“You know that giving a guy a key to your apartment means things are getting serious, no?”
Yoongi stood in your kitchen, carefully making you a cup of coffee – strong and dark with the tiniest dash of milk, just the way you liked it, while you scrounged around in the cupboards for the snacks you bought on a whim just in case you had visitors, though rare it did happen from time to time.
“Why the fuck did I put the crackers up there,” You muttered under your breath.
Yoongi placed down the teaspoon he’d been drumming on your countertop and came to your rescue, his warm hand resting on your lower back as he reached up beside your head and plucked the shortbread from the top shelf with ease.
“So short.”
“Dick.” You quipped back, snatching the packet from his hand before skipping away with the crackers and a tray of cheese and fruits.
“And to answer your question – no, I don't think giving you a key means anything but being smart because it saves me having to come all the way down here to unlock the door for you... because you're here allll the time,” your drawling tone earned a pinch to the ribs as you launched onto the sofa, Yoongi following closely behind.
“I'm here all the time because you call me, miss ‘I'm scared of the dark and need a big, strong man to look after me’,” Yoongi mocked in a high pitched voice, causing you to scoff into the hot cup of coffee nestled in your hands.
“Big feels generous…”
A shocked expression swept across Yoongi’s face – eyebrows raised as he playfully brushed off your burn.
“Ooh does it now? I don't think that’s how you felt last week in Seoul – just saying,” He shrugged before taking an exaggerative sip from his own mug, your eyes suspiciously narrowed but the smile itching the corners of your mouth threatened to give you away.
“Admit it.”
"No way!” you scoffed, voice cracking.
“Come oooon, admit that I'm big or I'm not watching Love Island with you.”
Yoongi quickly grabbed the remote control from the coffee table in the midst of his ultimatum and held it above his messy head of dark hair as you carelessly shuffled into his tracksuit-clad lap, determined to take back what belonged to you.
“Don’t you dare threaten me, sir – I have so much dirt on you so you do not want to push me…” you couldn't be serious if you tried.
"All the dirt you have on me includes you, baby so do your worst,” He taunted with a whisper, his smug smile making your eyes roll.
You were sweet on the surface but he truly had no idea who he was dealing with.
“Three words; Facetime in Vegas… or maybe you need me to re-jog your memory?” Yoongi’s face dropped in disbelief, dragging his bottom lip between his two front teeth at the memory but as he peered into your playful eyes, a dubious scoff puffed from his mouth.
"Pfft, you wouldn’t do it…”
“Oh baby,” you mocked, hands pressed to his tight chest as you settled into his lap, eliciting a groan when you looked down at him, “Try me and find out..”
“What about the photos you sent me last week after you went shopping? That green lacy thing was out of this world."
“Oh I looked hot in that, I wouldn’t care if you posted those!” You waved off, not even slightly bothered by that threat.
“Okay, what about the video you sent me later that same night? You know the one… that featured a very special guest that lives in your bedside table…” Yoongi trailed off as your eyes widened in his direction.
“Okay now that’s too far!”
“More than Vegas?!”
“Fine!” You huffed, “We need to settle this,” eyes casting across the coffee table until they landed on the small bowl of cherries nestled between the cheese and grapes.
“Alright Mr. Tongue Technology… If you can tie this cherry stem into a knot, I’ll forget about Vegas and I’ll admit that you are, in fact, big.”
Yoongi’s eyes closed shut for a millisecond before he laughed and took the challenge, cherry stem already clinking the back of his perfect teeth, smirk tickling his lips. It took a bit of finessing, cheeks hollowed and tongue clearly doing most of the work, trying not to giggle whenever he made eye contact. It also didn’t help as you wiggled on his lap every time you laughed.
“You’re distracting me!” He mumbled through clenched teeth, cheeks blushing.
You scoffed, “Don’t make excuses…”
Yoongi rolled his eyes and locked in, jaw contorting before a triumphant smile swept across his sweet face. He carefully plucked the perfectly knotted cherry stem from his lips, eyebrows wiggling in amusement. You shook your head and took the stem, inspecting it carefully as his head lulled back in victory, placing the remote on your side of the sofa.
“I win.”
“You always win,” You whispered and kissed the proud smile that lit up his handsome face.
You knew Yoongi well enough to know he was going to relish in the win so you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at how goofy and beautiful he looked admiring his handy work. It was so easy to melt into his touch and the one thing you knew for sure was that you could kiss him all day, every day, maybe for the rest of your life.
Yoongi was the first to come up for air, eyes blurry and heart shaped while you took a couple more seconds to return to the real world, begrudgingly opening them to see the sweetest human being staring right back. The sigh he exhaled was so deep that it reverberated through your bones, worrying you a little until his hands brushed down your sides and the smile etched on his face remained.
“Why are you being such a chicken about us moving in together? I thought you would be excited,” He asked quietly, gently.
“I'm not being a chicken, I'm just being realistic,” you whispered, desperately wanting to change the subject, “which may seem like the opposite of my sunny disposition but I can also be serious when I wanna be... also your eyes look really pretty right now.”
Yoongi chuckled at your horrible attempt to change the subject, “I know they are so why don’t you want to wake up to them every morning huh? Because I wanna wake up next to you.”
“That’s pretty cheesy for you” You jabbed, earning a smack to the backside
“This is what you do to me! You make me soft and cheesy and I hate it! But I’m learning to lean into it because I love you a lot – soooo…”
“Soooo…” you mimicked but quickly shied away from his intense gaze, “Soft Yoongi is my personal favourite and I love you so much too… but we’re weird and so different to one another and I feel like I’ll be too much for you, too over the top if we lived together and then you’d realise how annoying I am and leave… What if that happened? God, I would be devastated.”
You hadn't even realised that you'd started chewing through the pink varnish on your nails until Yoongi gently grasped your wrist and laced his fingers with yours. He sighed and kissed the back of your hand – the pause in conversation gave him time to gather his thoughts while the circles he drew into your palm with the pad of his thumb calmed your racing mind.
“What do you think?” You pressed.
Yoongi answered hundreds of questions every day but he was struggling to think of a time when his response to a question held this much meaning. Actions meant everything to you, and he couldn't wait to hold your hand in public and not be afraid of getting caught sneaking kisses when the two of you were meant to be a secret, but words were a good place to start.
“What I think is that we love each other, yeah? And what I know is that I love being weird with you, and I love watching you move through the world. We balance each other out, like a cherry. You’re sweet and I’m a bit tangy – a perfect combo,” Yoongi teased, sweetly pinching your hip.
“Every day with you so far has made my world brighter and I know my stupid sense of humour makes you laugh every single time. Moving in together won’t change that – it’ll only make us stronger.”
He gave you a genuine smile and a quick kiss to your cheek as you buried your head in his neck, warm relief washing over you.
summary. it wasn’t your first time going to some Jungkook concert at a club in central Seoul, but it was the first time he noticed you. neither wasn’t your first time playing tug-of-war with a rapper who thought he was some kind of 2Pac, even though Jungkook was very good with his tongue.
pairing. rapper!jungkook x groupie!oc
word count. 3.3k
warnings. pure smut. cocky!oc dom!jjk. oral (f receiving), oral (m receiving), kinda public sex, creampie, unprotected sex (wrap it up). oc totally desperated for jjk. mdni.
author note. the song groupie by pH-1 did all the work ngl. i'm oc, you are oc, we all are oc because i would also be desperate for jjk. English is not my first language, so please forgive me if i make any spelling mistakes.
Jungkook was performing his second concert at that club in downtown Seoul, surrounded by girls his age and a few friends who were there. It wasn't the first time all night that your eyes had met his.
Silver microphone, matching your earrings.
Your face looked familiar to him, but he couldn’t figure out where he’d seen you before, were you here last night? the truth is, he didn’t really care, because as the words flowed to the beat of the track playing in the background, one of his most famous songs, your glossy lips moved in perfect sync. That felt so out of place.
When the song ended, Jungkook took a sip of a drink, some kind of mixed cocktail his friends had made for him, that he had left on the DJ’s table.
You watched his every move, and Jungkook liked that. You were mesmerized by his aura and he knew the power he could have over girls.
When the concert ended he decided to stay there, and so did you. He watched you dance with every sip he took from his glass, his third of the night.
You danced with a friend, sometimes by yourself, and other times you turned down guys you could have easily gone off with just by saying a couple of words. Jungkook laughed at all of them.
He wondered what you would smell like, how soft your skin would be, and what it would be like to grab you by the hair to put you in your place.
Your hips were moving to the beat of the music, and it’s possible that Jungkook’s friends pointed out to him how distant he was that night. What he liked most about you was that, even though you knew he was watching you, you acted as if he didn't exist, the way you were playing innocent was turning him on. He wanted to mess with that attitude of yours.
Jungkook was feeling a little lonely from the VIP, so he told his friends to bring some girls over—especially you.
‘’Yeah, that one.’’ He whispered into his friend's ear, both looking at you.
In a matter of seconds, you found yourself right next to the guy you’d come to see perform, but you kept acting as if nothing had happened, taking selfies here and there.
‘’So’’ he said so he could talk to you ‘’no thanks?’’ You flicked your hair with a slight turn of your head, you knew exactly what you were doing, and you loved this little game.
Tight dress, perfect hair, expensive perfume, everything went exactly as you’d planned. Your skin glowed, not just because the lights brought out its radiance, but also because of the coconut-scented oil all over your body.
‘’Thank you…’’ you said, hoping for the answer you wanted. Your gaze fixed on his, it seemed like a contest.
‘’Jungkook.’’ And there it was—exactly what you were expecting.
‘’Mhmm’’ you sissed ‘’that's a pretty name.’’ You had it exactly where you wanted it.
‘’And how about you tell me your pretty name?’’ He took another sip of his drink, without hesitating for a second, even though you had your own, you snatched it out of his hand and took a sip.
‘’[Y/N]’’ you said in a whisper, a bit like a hissing snake. The music was so loud, and the leather couch you were sitting on was sticking to your thighs, but you didn’t care.
‘’What I was thinking.’’ You raised your eyebrow, giving him a chance to keep talking. ‘’It's a really pretty name to moan.’’
‘’First, you’ll have to earn it, right?’’ Jungkook wasn’t the first rapper you’d run into at clubs, you knew how to play his own game.
‘’Tell me what you need or what you want and you’ll get it.’’ His lips close to your earlobe, whispering all those words, you felt a warmth spread through your whole body. ‘’I’ve seen you turn down other guys—so why not me?’’
He had hit the nail on the head, but he didn't know it.
‘’Maybe…’’ you said, approaching the very spot where he had been just seconds ago ‘’and just maybe, cause I want to moan and scream that pretty name of yours.’’
You figure those were the words of affirmation Jungkook needed to get you out of that seedy bar where he'd performed and take you to his car. His hand on your wrist, guiding you out of there
‘’Wait.’’ you said in the middle of the crowd ‘’I love this song.’’ You didn’t even know what song it was, you just knew the beat was perfect for taking it to where you wanted it to go.
You approached his body like a black mamba, your eyes dark with the lust of the moment, it felt like stalking defenseless prey.
You danced around him, pressing your hips against his, he tried to keep up with you but got lost in your movements as he ran his hands all over your body.
‘’Is this what you wanted?’’ you asked, close to his lips.
‘’I had something else in mind.’’ He said as you moved to the beat of the music.
‘’I’ve already told you, Jungkook, that you have to earn it.’’ You said almost in a whisper.
‘‘You talk too much’’ he said as he turned you around, ass pressed against his crotch.
‘’Or you don't talk enough.‘’ You looked back, meeting his eyes, and your hand moved toward his cheek, resting on it. Your ass kept moving back and forth over his crotch, for a few seconds, you could feel something inside him getting bigger.
‘’Cut it out with that attitude of yours if you don’t want me to fuck you.’’ He whispered and you laughed.
‘’That’s exactly what I want Jungkook.’’ A couple of songs later, you could tell that something inside him was on the edge of breaking. He couldn’t take it anymore. ‘‘Yeah, let’s go, this place is boring’’ eyes fixed on him.
That’s when he grabbed your wrist tightly, not like he did before, and dragged you out of that club. It could have been -4 degrees outside, and you wouldn’t have even noticed.
You could feel your pussy throbbing and he was surely feeling it too when he set you down on his car door and slid his tattooed hand down to your pussy.
His hands were all over your body and his lips on both sides of your neck, planting kisses all over your skin, even as he was trying to find his car keys.
‘’I-is your studio nearby?’’ you asked, moaning in his ear. He groaned in despair.
‘’So now you want to know where I record?’’ he said mockingly.
‘’Just—’’ a moan escaped your lips when you felt his hand slipping under your dress ‘’just answer the fucking question so we can leave.’’
‘’So needy already?’’ He couldn’t go even a minute without feeling his lips on your skin, and he was the one who asked you if you were needy. ‘’Say it [Y/N], say what you want.’’ He whispered to you, cupping both your cheeks with one hand. ‘’Say you need me, say you want me to fuck you until you drop that attitude you’ve had all night, acting like I didn’t exist.’’
Damn, this game was going way too far.
‘’F-fuck’’ you had just let out a moan at his words. ‘’I want you to fuck me.’’ You confessed in a whisper, your gaze fixed on his dark eyes.
He took his car keys out of his pocket and unlocked the car.
‘’Get in.’’ He commanded. ‘’I think I deserve something first.’’
You got into the back seat of the car, which, even though it was parked in an alley, was somewhat visible, luckily, there was no one around.
He didn’t hesitate for a second to push you back against the seats, with your legs draped over his shoulders, pulling off your thong as fast as he could, you moaned from the pressure of his cold tongue and the contrast it created against your cunt.
‘’Ye-yeah’’ your hands reached for his hair, gripping it tightly, your body felt relaxed for a moment, until he began to pick up the pace of his licks. He was trying to push you to the limit.
‘’Fuck Jungkook’’ moaning his name was something you had always dreamed of. ‘’Please, don’t stop’’ you begged while working on your clit with his tongue.
He poked his head out for a moment to look you straight in the eyes and smile.
‘’I hadn't planned on, baby’’ and he went back to your pussy to continue at a completely different pace. He stuck two fingers right inside you and you flinched at the sensation. ‘’Come on, I know you can take it.’’
He began to move his fingers upward while his tongue kept working on you, nothing but moans escaped you.
‘’Right there’’ you managed to say. His pace picked up as he felt your pussy tighten around his fingers. Just as you were about to reach orgasm, he stopped.
He stepped back and looked at you victoriously.
‘’What the fuck?’’ you screamed. Out of nowhere, he came up to you and started kissing you passionately, your tongues desiring each other.
‘’I don't think you deserve it.’’ He said between kisses. ‘’But since I'm a good person’’ he said as he returned to the spot where he'd left you with your pussy throbbing ‘’and because I want to hear you moan, you're going to get it.’’
And he slid his two fingers back inside while looking you in the eyes, and after watching your eyes roll back, he pressed his tongue against your cunt again, nonstop and at a fast pace, which made reaching the climax easier than before.
Screaming his name was another thing you were dying to do, but his hand found your mouth and covered it, muffling all the moans and sounds you were making. Shiny lips with your fluids, and he licked them while he stared at you. He’d just made you cum and was looking at you with desire
‘’I have something planned for you.’’ He said as he pulled your dress down, he got out of the car and sat down in the driver's seat, starting the car to take you to his studio. ‘’You’re lucky the ride only takes 5 minutes, because otherwise you'd be touching yourself in front of me all night long.’’
And you cursed because it was only a 5 minute ride.
You didn’t know how it had happened so fast, but there you were in a room where many girls just like you would love to be. A mixing console with two laptops on it, a large screen, and, across from it, another small glass-enclosed room with a microphone.
Jungkook didn’t wait a second to pull you onto that table, you wrapped your long legs around his hips to pull him closer to you so you could feel him better, passionate, quick kisses.
You were desperate to feel him, so much so that you didn’t hesitate to slide your hand down to the button on his pants, unbuttoning it as you gave him more access to your neck, letting his tongue glide over it.
When your tongues met again, you moaned, he tasted of alcohol, just like you did.
Your hands slid down his pants, you were eager to find a Jungkook who was more submissive, even more desperate for you.
‘’Look at you, desperate for my dick.’’ His voice was choked up. He had no idea that this was as far as you wanted to go.
‘’I’d like to see what you’d do in my situation.’’ You said, trying to seduce him. You climbed down from that table, pushed him toward the chair behind it, and sat him down in it. ‘’And now you’re going to find out, Jungkook’’
You lay down, unable to tear your eyes away from his, mesmerised by those dark irises. He felt just the same as you. Jungkook was unable to control his feelings for you, he wanted to grab you by the hair, put you in your place, take control of the situation, but your presence and your aura wouldn’t let he do it.
His trousers were down, and with both your hands you caressed his muscular thighs, you licked your own lips at the mere thought of what you were going to do. Jungkook was breathing heavily, trying to fill his lungs with air, a futile effort.
You stroked his cock through his boxers, which still bore a faint trace of what had been his cum from your earlier encounter with his tongue and your pussy. You liked the feeling you’d stirred in him.
You took off his underwear, gently brushing the backs of his thighs with your hands, he drew in a breath at the touch of your fingers with his skin.
You glanced at his cock with such tenderness that you could see Jungkook shudder, you looked at him through your eyelashes, fluttering them slowly, blinking a couple of times. His cock hitting his stomach, spilling a little precum because of your actions.
‘’Fuck, just do something.’’ He whimpered, begging you in a certain way, and you couldn’t resist.
You gently took hold of his cock, and he sighed. You loved seeing him like that, and you didn’t mind that other girls had been in the same situation as you. You moved up and down with one hand, whilst with the other you stroked his thighs, working your way down to his balls.
‘’[Y/N]’’ he groaned. You loved hearing your name come from his lips, it was like the song of the sirens, and so you picked up the pace. You couldn’t resist it, it was so captivating.
He threw his head back and you could see Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, he was trying to stifle his moans by biting his lip.
You were in control of the situation, in fact, you’d always been in control.
When he lowered his head again and your eyes met his, you felt your pussy throb, he was challenging you with his gaze. And you didn’t think twice about licking the tip of his cock whilst you kept staring defiantly at him.
‘’F-fuck’’ he just whimpered. ‘’[Y/N]— your mouth—fuck’’
You gathered a little saliva and pooled it on your tongue, making it easier to run your tongue along his entire length, before returning to where you started. You took your time sucking his cock, you loved how salty it was, the way he shuddered, and you loved the way he moaned your name.
You took a deep breath before putting it as far back in your mouth as you could and he cleared his throat, searching for your hair with his hands to guide you.
‘’P-please’’ he said as you picked up the pace ‘’stop please, I don’t want to cum yet.’’ You pulled his cock out of your mouth with a ‘pop’ that made him let out a grunt.
He stood up in a rage and you followed him, he turned you around and pressed your body against the cold table, you could feel his lips against your skin, your shoulders, your neck, he was leaving a trail of saliva wherever he went.
It didn’t take him long to place a hand on your back so that your stomach would rest on the table, he lifted your dress just enough to reveal your pussy, thong lost somewhere in his car.
‘’God’’ he moaned as he ran his fingers over your heat ‘’you’re soaking.’’ You whimpered at the cold sensation of his rings against your cunt.
He grinded against your ass, he played with his cock, giving your wetness a couple of slaps with it, you could hear the sloppy sounds and it made you shudder.
He pushed it inside you, a gentle thrust that made you exhale all the air from your lungs in a moan.
‘’Fuck Jeon’’ you said his stage name. That was when he realised what was going on, yes, he had seen you before, in fact, you’d been to several concerts, and at every one of them you’d been there with your beautiful eyes, your stunning figure and your immense self-confidence.
Seething with rage as a punishment, he quickened his pace, whilst his thrusts grew ever more forceful. The truth is, he’d been expecting it, you were far too beautiful to be a coincidence.
‘’Yes—right there.’’ Hearing you moan was a real treat, and he thought of a better way to punish you for lying to him. He gave you a thrust before pulling out of you completely. You looked back, searching for his eyes, bewildered.
You could see him take out his phone and open the voice notes app, leave it on the table and give yourself another strong thrust. You groaned because of the difference in pressure.
‘’Were you that desperate to have me?’’ he asked you, whilst your pussy clenched at the bluntness of his question. Hard thrust, you could hear the background sounds of the fluids.
He grabbed you by the hair, causing your back to arch. You couldn’t even speak, all that came out of your mouth were the moans he made you let out.
‘’Asking for my name, when you know it perfectly’’ he groaned, his voice sounded like a sigh ‘’you had moaned about it before, alone in your room, touching that pretty pussy of yours wishing it was me’’ then you smiled triumphantly, he’d realised exactly what you were up to.
‘‘I can tell you’re getting wet just thinking about it’’ he tried to say between sighs. Those were the words that made your breathing quicken, you came all over his cock.
Shaky legs, laboured breathing, dress half-slipped down. You were exactly where you wanted to be.
‘’I want to look at you, please.’’ You managed to say ‘’I want to look into your eyes while you’re inside me.’’
‘’Fuck [Y/N]’’ You turned round slowly and took hold of his cock to gently guide it inside you. You looked at him with desire, you saw how he licked his lips, bit down on that piercing and looked down to see his cock sliding into you, he groaned at the heat of your pussy. ‘’I won't last long.’’
You started moving before he did, they were slow circular movements. You grabbed him by the back of his neck and pressed your lips against his.
At first, he began to thrust gently, but then his pace quickened again. He grabbed you by the waist, your ass was resting on the table and you had to hold on to it, your head thrown back as you moaned.
With his gaze fixed on you, he managed to whisper ‘’feel how fucking deep I am inside of you?’’
Your pussy tightened, the atmosphere was thick and the air in the room was hot. He pulled your dress down so he could see your boobs, taking one into his mouth and playing with your nipple with his tongue, applying a bit of pressure that made you shudder whilst he kept thrusting and with his other hand, he was tracing circles with his thumb around your waist.
‘’I’m so close—I’m so fucking close.’’ The two of you pressed your foreheads together ‘’I’m cumming!’’ he shouted as a warning. And you could feel all his cum filling you up completely.
He was trying to catch his breath, you saw him smile, he was reaching for his phone so he could stop that voice memo.
‘’I’ll use it for a song, as I can see that’s what you wanted’’ he said, licking his lips. ‘’So’’ he began to say ‘’you a groupie, huh?’’
gimmie a friends/lovers to strangers to lovers fic with Jungkook where you’ve been texting with him predebut when u both were young on those learn Korean websites because u wanted to learn Korean and he wanted to learn English for fans and u became friends but he had to stop talking to you so he could focus on debuting and then when you finally visit Korea you see him all famous and you tell him that you are fluent in Korean now but had to learn in other ways because you couldn’t bring yourself to use that app after he left because it wouldn’t be the same 🥹
jungkook was undeniably your closest friend. you two came as a pair, packaged tightly together and wrapped in clingfilm. you’d known each other since you were both ten, sat together in primary school, stealing glances at one another as though the intrigue you both kept could hardly make either of you look away. the boy had won your heart in a flash when he offered his banana milk to you after punching the horrible boy that kept bullying you, all whilst offering you a big toothy grin.
he came shopping with you, standing outside of changing rooms with crossed arms and big biceps, analysing every short little skirt and blouse. he’d sit beside you in all of your classes, helping you with your note taking, buying you special highlighters so you could make them prettier. and at parties? jungkook would stand, arm around your waist, eyes shooting daggers at any man that tried to even think about coming near you whilst he took care of you.
you see, jungkook being your best friend was indeed undeniable. the other undeniable fact? he was utterly, completely and entirely in love with you.
it would have been fine, if you weren’t so clueless. you took his actions as nothing more than him being friendly, and comfortable with you and sure - you both dated other people, but he’d made it abundantly clear to every woman in his life that you came first in the peking order. naturally, this didn’t make them stay long.
he had a deep, twisted sort of obsession when it came to you, constantly needing you close, wanting to hold you, smell you, caress you in anyway possible. you let him, of course - you were a sweet little thing, you always assumed it was normal despite everyone in your life questioning it. you were asked a million times a week whether you and jungkook were dating to which you’d always tilt your head, mumbling out a confused no. whenever he was asked, he’d simply smirk, and shrug his shoulders, playing the ambiguity card.
you weren’t sly, however. he could see right through you. no matter how innocent you’d act, he knew you enjoyed the attention, craved it and needed it in a way that resembled himself - you were a mere reflection of one another. he had just come to understand his feelings first.
y/n and jungkook, a simple pair. you couldn’t find one without the other, and despite him being the openly touchy and expressive one out of you both, the only person who thought it was friendly was you. the irony was, you knew deep down it was all a facade you were keeping up in hopes he would never stop. it felt too good to change the game now.
even now, jungkook knocked on your door at 2 in the morning, hair messy, coming from one of the libraries after a long PHD study session. you sleepily rose from your bed, already half way to dreamland as you lazily opened the door. though you weren’t expecting him, you knew it could only be him knocking.
“did i wake you?” he murmured quietly as you yawned against the door, letting him in.
he walked in, placing his bag and shoes by the entrance whilst he watched you sleepily turn back to your bedroom. “mm, but it’s okay.”
he followed you in, watching you snuggle back against your pillow. “scoot over.”
you did exactly that, shuffling, watching as he joined you in your bed, taking over a large majority of the space. you groaned a little as his hands found your hips, large fingers pressing into your skin whilst he pulled you into his chest with utter ease.
“smell good.” you purred, curling your face into his neck. he felt himself visibly relax, breathing in the scent of your hair.
“it’s the cologne you got me.” he murmured down at you.
you groaned in response, pleased at his answer.
if anyone were to see you both right now, the last possible thing they’d ever assume you to be was friends and yet here you were. best friends, even, through thick and thin. you’d learnt not to question jungkook’s wandering hands, how it brushed your ass every time he ran it up and down your back. he, in return, didn’t question you on the way you’d steal his clothes, curling into them whilst demanding to lay on his chest, wrapped tightly in his thick biceps. a mutual understanding, if you will.
“hey, we’re still on for tomorrow right? jimin’s party?” he whispered down, causing a subtle shiver down to go down your neck.
you huffed a little. “yes. now shut up, i’m sleepy.”
he grinned at that, bunny teeth sinking into his bottom lip before he pressed quick peck to the top of your head, finding himself joining you into dreamland.
—
you could hear the boom of jimin’s house minutes before you’d even arrived, offering a look over at your best friend yejin who was a giggling mess at the back seat of the uber. the blonde haired boy was notorious for his gatherings, unlimited alcohol thanks to his connections, and a gathering of people that rivalled multiple parties combined. he was a self proclaimed man of the people, offering his large home as a service to society. or so he claimed.
you slipped out once you’d arrived, pulling the hem of your tiny little dress down. the vibe for tonight was to have fun, find someone, get drunk, get ruined all before cosying back up in your warm, big bed. it didn’t feel like too much to ask for, and jimin’s party was the prime location to do it.
you followed yejin inside the too large house, immediately saying hi to people upon your arrival. within minutes, you’d both done your round, and you were finally walking up to your friends who were all mingling in the kitchen.
“hi.” you squealed at the sight of your party host, who grinned widely before giving you a big hug. “having fun so far?”
“jimin, this is insane.” you laughed, taehyung wrapping his arm around your shoulders. “more than insane, should of seen what happened 20 minutes ago, some girl slapped her boyfriend for flirting with someone else.”
“yeah well, had to try out do the other one.” jimin quipped, referencing his previous gatherings whilst already preparing you a drink.
“the fact you’ve managed that is insane.” yejin grimaced whilst taking a sip of the concoction yoongi had prepared.
your eyes flickered to the tall, tatted boy stood by the wall, back pressed against the surface. a loose tshirt sat on his figure, and though it shielded you from seeing the hard panels on his body, the sheer expanse of his shoulders were enough to have your legs move towards him within seconds.
jungkook was staring at you, gaze as intense as ever. his tongue draped over his bottom lip momentarily, wetting it at the mere sight of you. “hi.” he murmured down at you, lowering his head so his lips would graze your ear just slightly.
a shiver went down your spine. your fingers reached for his stomach, clutching his top gently. “already drinking? thought you’d wait for me.”
“been nursing it. don’t drink that.” he moved the cup jimin had given you out of your hand, preparing one for you instead. he was possessive like that, small acts that you could never pin point.
“hm? this tastes good.” you hummed, resting against him.
his arm slipped around your waist, done too casually despite the weight of it on your body. his eyes wandered over the tiny dress you were wearing, eyebrows furrowing.
“is this new?”
you peered up. “yeah! you like it?” you twirled a little, his arm loosening slightly. “got it today, yejin said it makes my legs look good.”
he grunted, half in appreciation and other half in annoyance that your mutual friend had you dressing in such a risqué dress. the thought of other men noticing you enraged him, in a way that wasn’t normal; not that he gave a fuck.
“i do like it. aren’t you cold?” he asked with narrowed eyes, hand returning to the bottom of your back.
you grinned into your cup, tilting your head. “that’s what you’re for, duh.”
at that, a smirk formed in his lips, the thought of you needing him in a way he was only more than happy to be was comforting to his obsessive brain.
the two of you muttered away, hidden away in a corner whilst your friends chatted around you. to the naked eye, you both appeared to be much more than the best friends you claimed to be. with your hands curled onto him, feeling his abs and hard chest under his clothes whilst his own were wandering up and down your back, often dipping low enough to touch your ass.
it didn’t register in your head that this wasn’t a normal thing. that friends shouldn’t touch each other so intimately, especially not ones that were as close as you and jungkook. the mask of friendship acted as a guide for you both, offering a rope of direction despite both of you often letting go, making your own decisions that completely disregarded what was supposed to be.
“gonna go to the bathroom.” you groaned suddenly.
jungkook had been stood in front of you, leaned over so you were caged against the wall, forcing you to push his chest lightly. “want me to come with?”
“what, so you can watch me piss? does that get you off?” you teased, watching as he rolled his eyes.
his tongue pushed against his cheek. “yeah, yeah, hurry up. i’ll hold your drink.”
you giggled to yourself, loving how riled up he’d get at a mere poke or jab, before sliding out of his grip, feeling his fingers tighten against you before letting go. jungkook watched you walk away, greedily taking in every inch of skin he could get. from your legs to your arms, the way your ass looked so fucking good in that dress. he let out a quiet groan.
you walked up the stairs, avoiding the moans emitting from different rooms like the plague. slipping into the bathroom, you quickly did your business before looking in the mirror whilst washing your hands. the alcohol had allowed for a flush against your cheeks and your pupils were dilated, you felt a rush all over your body. tonight was supposed to be chill, but the air felt electric.
you weren’t sure if it was the music, the amount of people or even the selection of drinks - but you felt slightly out of it. you shook your head, forcing yourself to stay present again before you began walking back to your best friend, almost too excitedly.
unfortunately for you, by the time you were slipping back into the kitchen, your tatted friend wasn’t there anymore, with hobi letting you know he’d gone into the main foyer. you, of course, listened and snuck between multiple people, exploring the house in a bid to find jungkook.
you huffed a little, realising he wasn’t there either. curse jimin, you thought, who needed a house this big anyway? your legs travelled around the expanse of the house, feeling slightly annoyed at the loss of your best friend who was usually stuck to your hip. you knew he preferred to stick together on nights like this, so you weren’t sure where he could be.
your legs took you to the living room, finding him leaning towards a corner which made your head tilt slightly, walking over immediately only to be stopped in your tracks the second you realised what was going on.
he had a girl in front of him, tall and leggy, and it took you no time to figure out who it was. yuna. his on and off ex of two years, toxic as could be, the one woman in the entire world you truly couldn’t stand whatsoever. unbeknownst to you, everytime you’d get into a relationship or begin seeing anyone, jungkook would return to her as a distraction, in hopes of making you jealous, to evoke any emotion he physically could. was it healthy? certainly not, but he didn’t really care for anyone that wasn’t you anyway.
you weren’t privy to this information, which meant your disdain for the frankly horrible woman felt unfounded. you felt guilty whenever you’d think about it, knowing you didn’t like her simply because she had jungkook when he felt more yours than anyone else’s, not that you could ever discuss that with anyone. you huffed at the sight, arms crossed whilst staring right at them.
you both had made a pact. you’d broken up with your ex boyfriend a few months ago, and at the time you felt like it was potentially a mistake, but jungkook had talked you out of it. said if you don’t go back, he wouldn’t go back to his ex either and selfishly, you knew that was what you wanted. yeah, you might have missed your ex, but the secret possibility of having him all to yourself was too much not to indulge in. seeing him now, however, had you drowning in annoyance.
yuna’s gaze flickered over jungkook’s shoulder, noticing you stood a few metres away looking at them openly. she wasn’t very fond of you either. it was hard to stomach the fact she would always be second in jungkook’s eyes, if even that, compared to the best friend he kept so closely to him. you could call and he’d drop the entire world to be by your side, so it made her bitter, naturally. seeing you stood there, visibly losing in comparison to her made a small smirk form as she tilted her head upwards to look at jungkook, her hands suddenly sliding all over his chest and shoulders.
you scoffed, deciding you’d had enough as you turned on your heel and exited the room with a grumble. if he wanted her so bad, he could have her, you didn’t care. he wasn’t allowed to come back to yours after though, a broken promise is still a broken promise and you held a grudge like no one else.
“now what’s got you frowning at a party like this?” jin questioned as he wrapped an arm around your shoulder, seemingly appearing out of no where as you trudged to the kitchen to get drunk.
“nothing. it’s stupid.” you shook your head.
“probably, but if it’s upset you, let’s talk.”
you sighed, as you grabbed the bottle of vodka, making a concoction you knew would be too strong for you to handle. you were a lightweight after all. “jungkook’s in a corner getting all close with yuna.”exess
“stupid boy.” he shook his head. “are you upset because you don’t like seeing them together?” he asked, leaning against the fridge, watching as yoongi and jimin walked in, seemingly with the same idea as you.
“what..no it’s not that.” your cheeks flushed, a cheeky grin forming on his face that jimin was beginning to rival, understanding the context of the conversation immediately. “yeah? why you getting all red then?” the younger man teased.
“shut up.” you hissed, making him throw his hands up.
“okay. let’s say for arguments sake you’re not jealous, are you really gonna let that something as silly as that ruin your night?” jin asked, bumping your hip whilst making his own drink. “you can’t let his bad decisions dictate how you feel, enjoy yourself.”
“god. boring. don’t listen to him, y/n.” jimin huffed, grabbing your arms and twirling you a little. “don’t get upset. get even.”
“huh?” yoongi asked, eyes narrowing. “okay, feels like it goes without saying that you shouldn’t listen to jimin right now.”
you were intrigued, however. “what do you mean?” you asked, peering at him.
“get even.” he reiterated with a smirk. “gotta play him by his own game.”
“yeah, well, it’s not like my ex is here.” you grumbled at him, taking a sip of your too harsh drink, making you wince. jin tutted, stealing it out of your hand and making you another, more appropriate one.
jimin’s smirk could have rivaled the cheshire cat, with the way it pinned to either side of his face, clearly loving this game. he knew about jungkook’s feelings for you, and about the hidden feelings you could barely admit to yourself - wasn’t it time he had some fun, and made sure progress was being made?
“ah, but i have something better.” he tutted, leading you out to the entrance of the kitchen so you could look out all of the people here. “so many eligible bachelors. why go for something you’re used to, when you could try something new?”
you pondered his words whilst you heard yoongi groan, taking the drink jin was preparing for you and downing it himself.
soon enough, you had found yourself the perfect man. you couldn’t really remember his name, jaehoon, jaehyun, something along those lines - not that it really mattered. he was the right fit for what you needed. you flirted in a way you knew worked best, eyelashes fluttering and a few casual touches here and there, he was practically smitten by the end.
you’d even gotten up to dance, his hands travelling all over the expanse of your stomach, your hips and hair. he was letting you know exactly what he felt and what he was thinking through his eager touch. normally, you’d feel disgusted, you weren’t someone that revelled in attention like this but it was hard to think when you were being guided by jealousy.
“wanna get out of here?” he whispered down at you, voice heavy with intent.
at first, you faltered, as though ice water had been splashed onto your face, suddenly aware of what you were doing. one look upwards and you noticed jungkook wasn’t even around you, and for some stupid reason you couldn’t rationalise, it made you angry. he broke the pact. he had you walking around the party looking for him. him and his touches, wandering hands and fleeting looks - you knew friends didn’t do that, but it was jungkook. it was okay if it was him, you preferred it even, and yet here you stood, about to make the biggest mistake of your life out of pure ego.
“yeah.” you huffed a little, carried away by your thoughts.
the man in front of you couldn’t believe his luck, you were easily one of the prettiest girls at the whole party and entirely out of his league so he wasn’t about to waste a single minute. he took your hand, smirk big whilst leading you through the house, and towards the door.
you passed some of your friends, who were all looking at you inquisitively, managing to get to the foyer before you were so rudely stopped by a hand yanking your own away from his grip.
“what the fuck are you doing?” jungkook appeared, chest big and shoulders as wide as they could be.
he was inching towards the shorter man, eyes narrowed dangerously as though something completely unfathomable was taking place in front of him.
“who are you?” his eyebrows narrowed. “let go.” you hissed at the same time, yanking your hand out of his grip.
he turned to you, eyebrows furrowing in half confusion and annoyance. “what, you’re gonna leave with this guy? are you fucking stupid?”
“what’s it to you?” your eyes were matching his in emotion, whilst the man beside you watched you both in confusion. “listen, man, she told me she was single..”
“yeah, well she’s not.” he broke eye contact; facing him once more. “touch my girl again and i’ll fucking kill you.”
that was all he needed to hear; backing down immediately and all but scurrying away. jungkook was very well known, he had a presence that made most men uncomfortable, a cocktail mix of strength and anger that anyone would shy away from. it was secretly one of your favourite things about him, you were convinced he was invincible - the thought of him being able to protect you so thoroughly had butterflies erupting in your stomach.
“jungkook.” you hissed once more, anger bubbling in your stomach.
he didn’t bother to respond, grabbing you by your hips and pushing you almost harshly against the wall, secretly making sure your head didn’t bang. “what was that? leaving with some guy, you don’t even know who he was.”
“would it have been better if it was someone i knew, then?” you scoffed, hands gripping his shirt where his hardened chest sat beneath, pushing him away though he didn’t budge whatsoever. stupid, concrete body.
his eyes were darker than you’d ever seen them. “you don’t fucking leave with anyone that isn’t me, you hear me?”
you rolled your eyes. “you don’t get to act all innocent with me, i’m surprised you’re not upstairs with yuna right now.”
“what are you talking about?”
“i saw you, so don’t even bother.” you huffed, pushing him by his chest once more only for him to grab your hands, pinning them to the wall above you.
“yeah? tell me what you saw, hm.” he darkly whispered down at you. “did you hear what we were talking about, or are you jumping to conclusions?”
you wiggled slightly, his chest now all but pressed against yours. this position was entirely indecent, and if either of you were more aware of your surroundings, you’d be thankful that everyone was currently too drunk to notice you.
“you said you wouldn’t talk to her anymore, that was the pact.” you hissed. “you promised and now you’ve broken it, so i can do whatever i want, you don’t get to dictate my decisions.”
he scoffed in your face, and your eyes widened lightly at the mere audacity, wiggling again against his grip. all this was doing was pushing your body tighter against him.
“you know, if you had stuck around longer than 5 seconds you would have actually heard what we were talking about.” he all but grumbled. “she approached me, wouldn’t leave me alone, i’ve spent the last 15 minutes telling her to fuck off, that i’ve only got my eyes on one girl, only have time for you.”
you stopped wiggling, his words hitting you one after the other.
“imagine my fucking surprise when i try find you, only to find some fuck leading you out of this place.” his face was dangerously close to yours. “what were you planning, y/n? trying to get me angry? was that your game plan?”
you didn’t respond, nervously keeping eye contact. your thighs were pressed against each other tightly, a sick part of you enjoying this more than anything, the way he was being a little rougher with you whilst still being protective - it made your brain sing.
“and what would you have done once you were both alone, hm? he wanted to fuck you.” he growled harshly, making you grumble under your breath. “you think a guy like that is worth fucking?”
“okay, fine, i shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions. but you still broke the pact.” you weakly pushed back, your ego too high to let him win.
jungkook knew it, knew the only reason you’d gone so far was out of jealousy and it made his heart clench harshly - it felt fucking incredible. his girl, his y/n, so bothered at the sight of another woman staking their claim on him that you’d become this blind? if only you knew the way he had shut yuna down, leaving the girl practically in tears after he explained how deeply his heart and brain were intertwined into you - that he’d take morsels from you if it meant being close to you, whilst he wouldn’t even look at her twice even if she’d offer herself whole. he knew it was cruel, but in that moment, when all he wanted to do was return to you, he hardly cared.
“yeah, i did.” he murmured after a moment, slowly easing your hands back down from the wall, now pushing them back onto his chest. he could feel your fingers pulling at the fabric of his t-shirt once more. “forgive me, baby. swear my intentions were good.”
you nibbled on your bottom lip. he was still so close, his nose bumped against yours gently, “fine.” you huffed a little, despite one of your hands drawling down to his stomach, feeling the tightness of his abs beneath.
he dipped his head so your cheeks were pressing together, his lips ghosting against your ear. “now, stay with me for the rest of the night. next man i see touching you, i’ll fuck up.”
and as you both walked away, you sported a triumph grin, not only having jungkook possessively lead you to a spot on the couch, but also have his wandering hand go from your hip to firmly grabbing your ass.
—
“how much longer?” jungkook groaned alongside yoongi, who sat beside him, arms crossed and eyes closed.
the two men were sat within the confinements of what felt like a jail, but was actually a mere clothing department. surrounded by pretty dresses and a flourish of colours, the pair felt utterly out of place, dragged here by either girl. yoongi and yejin had a weird back and forth that had been building for years, incredibly similar to your own relationship with jungkook? the difference between you, however, was they at least tried to be subtle for the sake of appearances.
“god, just wait, you’re both so impatient.” yejin huffed, whilst you both chatted away in your respective dressing rooms. “i don’t know about this one.” you murmured, loud enough for jungkook to pick up on the slight tinge of anxiety in your voice.
“come out, y/n.” he gently coaxed, noticing your feet from underneath nervously shuffling.
you did exactly that, however, your hair pulled up into a messy ponytail that he couldn’t tear his eyes away from.
“wait let me see too!” yejin excitedly rushed out, the lilac tone of her dress catching yoongi’s attention.
jungkook couldn’t look away from you. a sweet grey dress that hugged every inch of you - from where it sat on your calf to the way it dipped in at your waist. it felt like your legs went on for days, your breasts accentuated. you were perfection in a bottle, and the fact you weren’t sure drove him insane.
“i really like that, actually. you look nice.” yoongi nodded in approval, yejin walking over and adjusting the straps. “oh, you are so getting this. you look hot.”
you looked over at jungkook. it was his opinion you really wanted, and you knew it wasn’t healthy, but you craved his thoughts the most. he was soaking you in hungrily, eyes dark and legs parted slightly, causing you to flicker down secretly. he was enamoured by you.
“i like it.” he grumbled. “i like it too much.”
your cheeks flushed a little, pleased with your best friend’s approval. “you sure kookie? just think this grey is too moody for a wedding, and maybe it’s too tight?”
“it’s perfect. i’m wearing black, so we’ll match.” he shook his head. yejin grinned to herself before flaunting her outfit towards yoongi who was equally as enamoured.
“ooh, are you wearing that suit we got together at the start of the year?” you excitedly asked, shuffling over to him. you were now in front of him, his legs parted as he leaned back in his chair, your body inbetween.
he was taking you in, openly. from your eyes to your lips, lips to your neck, neck to your boobs and downwards. he couldn’t get enough.
“mm, yeah. remember you saying how much you liked it.” his hands were touching you now, on your hips, sliding over the material hungrily. “i really do.” you admitted, a small, too cheeky grin forming on your face.
yejin had returned to her dressing room now, you promptly doing the same, jungkook’s hands falling off of your body, watching the dress pool at your feet from the bottom of the door. he spread his legs a little wider, accommodating for the already growing nature of his length.
“hey, you guys joining us for dinner?” yoongi asked him quietly, watching as yejin walked out, hands playing with her hair. “dunno man, might have to pass, she’s kinda tired so thought i’d take her home.”
he nodded, watching as you too came out. jungkook admired you whilst you both said your goodbyes, soon enough standing in front of him, in between his legs slightly, like before. “you don’t have to come with me if you’re hungry, kookie, i don’t mind making my own way back.”
he scoffed, whilst standing, height towering over you immediately. “gotta take my girl home, hm?”
you didn’t want to admit the pounding that formed in your chest at his words and the ease in which he said them in. he took a hold of your hand, both protective and possessive whilst leading you to the counter, not sparing you a single glance as he paid for your dress. you had known him long enough to know he’d sooner die than let you pay for anything, another thing that had you kicking your legs and screaming into your pillow.
“wait, can we go to yours instead? just remembered my house is a mess and i don’t wanna deal with that right now.” groaning into his arm whilst you walked beside him, peering up with big, hopeful eyes.
jungkook wanted to scream. as if he could say no to you.
“mm, sure. you left your stuff from last time too in case you want to shower.”
you grinned wide at the confirmation. “hm, maybe i’ll have a bath.”
within the next half hour, you were in jungkook’s bath, soapy bubbles covering your naked body whilst you hummed in delight, candles littered everywhere to create some sort of ambience. you loved coming to his place, it was much bigger and warmer than your own apartment. his scent was also everywhere, which made your brain keen.
“you hungry?” jungkook called out from the kitchen, prepared to make you a whole ass meal at your mere confirmation.
you were away with the fairies, too cozied up in the warm water and scented bubbles to even begin to hear him. jungkook frowned, realising you hadn’t responded, making him walk towards the closed door, knocking lightly and asking again.
in return, all he got was a slight hum, as though you were confused of what he was asking. without thinking, the door was already being pushed open, revealing you.
your hair was pulled up in a cute little bun, whilst your knees propped up in the water, the only sliver of skin jungkook could see whilst the rest of your body lay hidden underneath the expanse of bubbles. he watched as you peered up at him lazily, as though this was the most normal thing in the world - as though friends were supposed to walk in on each other naked.
“what did you say?” you murmured up at him whilst exhaling a little, seemingly content.
his lip quirked upwards slightly, whilst his cock thumped against the expanse of his boxers and jeans angrily. if you shifted, just slightly, just a little…
“asking if you’re hungry.” his voice has become rough, causing your eyes to flicker over to him, before slowly trailing down, noticing the way he was evidently hard.
in all honesty, you’d noticed it constantly. whether it was you waking up to his morning wood pressed tightly against you, or whether it was at parties where you’d sit on his lap only to be left with a core aching for something you weren’t sure you’d ever get.
“not really. this feels too good to leave.” a sigh left your lips dramatically, making him crouch beside you, his hand dipping in the water slightly to feel the temperature. “that does feel good.” he confirmed.
“i even put the salt thing you bought for me. feels so nice.”
if jungkook was any other man, he wouldn’t have been able to pick up on the secretive tone you were using. but, alas, he knew you better than you knew yourself, which meant he could recognise the teasing tilt to your voice with ease. you were enjoying this. you liked seeing him rock hard for you, and judging from the way your eyes kept flickering down, you were just as needy.
“yeah? mind if i join you, baby? wanna see what’s got you like this.” he was suddenly so close to your face; watching the way your pupils were dilating, your eyelids hooding whilst you offered a little nod, almost delirious.
hungrily, you watched him. he discarded his top, his jeans. he made sure your eyes were connected as he was left with his boxers, his length imprinted against the thin material, watching the way your gaze flickered down almost hungrily.
“make some room.”
it was though you were taken out of your trance, slowly pulling yourself to the corner of the massive bathtub whilst he himself got in, his boxers sat on the floor of the bathroom. jungkook rested against the opposite side of you, his back against the tub whilst you did the same, the bubbles mostly hiding you.
him, however - no he was a different story. his cock sat heavy against his stomach, pink and long, thicker than anything you’d ever seen before. it looked angry, the way it was twitching, hard and begging to be touched, visible to his sweet best friend.
he watched as you stared, little gasps leaving your mouth as you hungrily took him in. you weren’t hiding it, something he appreciated greatly.
the problem with your shared dynamic was that neither of you were shy about how you felt, making it clear to the world whilst never discussing it to one another, leaving you in this tension filled relationship where you both wanted each other in a way that felt stifling.
jungkook watched the way your chest and rose and fell, hints of your pebbled nipples coming to the surface before being hidden away once more.
“you were right. does feel good.” he casually murmured, wet hands running through his hair to keep it out of his face, as though his cock wasn’t leaking pre cum in front of you.
you weren’t sure what to say, core thumping and begging for something, anything.
he smirked slightly. “but colder than i expected.” your eyes looked up at his voice, finally listening again. “c-cold?”
“yeah. warm me up?” he tilted his head, watching as your body moved before you could even think.
you moved towards him, water sloshing, not that either of you cared, so your back was now suddenly against his chest, your naked bodies curling into one another with ease. your nudity wasn’t an issue for you, and certainly not for him, but the second you moved, you hadn’t realised this meant the bubbles were now moving away from you too.
your visibly naked body pressed against him, whilst his arm curled around you. he could see your breasts, the way they jolted with every move, causing his cock to twitch much to your non-secret enjoyment.
“feels better.” he breathed down at you, air tickling your ear, making you curl further into him. your hands were against him, one on his chest and the other at his side under the water, but your gaze had fallen directly onto his cock once more.
“pretty.” you whispered up at him. his ego was beyond anything at the minute. what do you mean his pretty little best friend was perched, naked on his chest, admiring his fat length?
he nuzzled your nose, almost condescendingly with his own, eyes dark and dilated to match your own. “yeah? you like it?”
you nodded, curling into him further whilst one of your hands drew circles against his stomach, dangerously close to where it sat. you weren’t as innocent as you looked, and jungkook fucking loved it.
his own hand curled tighter against you, fingers touching just above where your own pussy sat. “been like this since the dress shop. you looked so pretty.”
the way he was cooing at you had your eyes fluttering shut for a moment, a small grin beginning to form. “i’m happy you liked my dress.”
“i fucking loved it.” he scoffed, drawing his own circles against you. “always look so beautiful.”
the ending of his sentence was whispered down at you, as though they were words too big for either of you to hear. it did nothing to stop your grin from growing, giggling a little into him as you nuzzled closer to his chest, your fingers brushing against his cock more openly.
you watched as it twitched, whilst his own hand was beginning to fall forwards, almost cupping your heat entirely.
“kookie…” you began, nibbling down your bottom lip as you nervously looked up at him. “can..can i?”
instead of responding, jungkook took his free hand and took your own, pulling it up to his lips to plant pepper kisses all over it. your eyes were batting up at him, enjoying the affection and attention beyond anything you could ever describe, before watching him take your hand, and slowly wrap it around his dick.
your little gasp nearly had him bucking up into your hand. the way it couldn’t wrap around fully, your fingers much smaller than his and yet you wasted no time, beginning to pump him slowly, up and down.
“you’re so thick.” your voice was filled with awe, and again, his ego felt like it was about to sky rocket. jungkook wanted to close his eyes, relish the pleasurable feeling of you exploring him for the first time like he had dreamt of on so many occasions. and yet, he couldn’t look away from you, the way your eyes were hooded and your hands were moving up and down in pure intrigue. it made him want to ruin you.
“my turn.” he whispered in your ear, making you shiver. his hand that was grazing against you, now moved purposefully. jungkook ran two fingers up your slit, groaning a little at how wet you felt. despite the water growing colder each passing minute, you both felt on fire.
you let out a breathy moan, head pressing against jungkook’s cheeks as your legs opened up for him, the two of you peering up at one another.
“prettiest pussy i’ve ever seen.” he huffed through a moan, your hand moving up and down his length. your faces were turned to one another, breaths mingling as your lips sat dangerously close.
god, you were so beautiful. jungkook couldn’t get over the hazy look in your eyes, the way your gaze only ever looked away to look at your hand pumping him, or his own fingers moving against you.
a loud moan left your lips once you felt jungkook push a finger in, deep and full. he wasn’t waiting for you to adjust, merely pumping it with a curled edge, hitting you exactly where you needed it. your forehead now touched his own as you adjusted your body, giving him more access whilst you too sped up your actions.
neither of you could look away, pleasuring one another as though it was the most natural thing on earth, both yearning to kiss each other and yet there still seemed to be an air of uncertainty. soon enough, he added another finger, watching as your mouth fell open and eyes shut tight.
“cmon, baby, want your eyes on me.” he whispered against you, pressing too gentle kisses to your face, making you whimper and nod whilst doing exactly that.
your hands were sloppy, almost unsure of yourself as the pleasure raked up and down your body. fortunately for you, jungkook was of the opinion you didn’t need to ever work, the concept both foreign and offensive to his mind. his hand darted out, taking a hold of your own on his cock and guided you, taking control of you whilst also fingering you, actions growing harsher.
“fuck. a pussy like this needs to be ruined. look at you; just begging to be stretched out.” his words were pounding in your brain. “bet you can’t think unless you’re leaking cum.”
you stretched your legs impossibly wider, water sloshing around you as you nodded along to his words, feeling them in the pit of your stomach. you wanted that so badly.
“jungkook, i can’t..” the moans you were letting out were loud and bouncing off of the walls of the bathroom, whilst you both grew more and more erratic.
his fingers ploughed into you, in and out, curling right against that singular spot that had you arching your back into him whilst he helped you fist his cock.
“you can.” he hissed, biting your jaw, leaving hickeys against your neck and jawline as though he had every right. “wanna feel you cum for me, sweet girl. hm? so good to me, just letting my ruin your little pussy. who does it belong to?”
“you.” you responded almost instantly, back arching as you felt something grow in the pit of your stomach. “all yours, kookie, always.”
he nodded, forcing you to look at him as he too could feel his orgasm approaching. your words were like a drug to him, feeding ever warped belief he’d ever thought. you were both on the edge, so close, so ready to break, feeling higher than ever in one another’s arms.
he pulled you in suddenly, fingers leaving your core and dropping your hand away from his own cock. you wanted to whine until you realised what he was doing, positioning your body on top of him so he could slide his cock between your slit, pushing the tip into your tight hole.
“you’re going to cum on my cock, y/n. you hear me? gonna fill you up, make sure it fucking sticks.” his words were so dark, so possessive and yet they bounced around your brain in mere pleasure.
your body was shaking, he was a tight fit, but he wasted no time, only managing to fit the tip and an extra inch inside before roughly thrusting inside of you, building on both of your impending orgasms. if you thought his fingers felt good, the painful stretch of only a part of his cock had you screaming into his face. he couldn’t stop, his hands harsh and leaving bruises on your ass as he clutched, chasing both of your orgasms. neither of you were thinking clearly, which caused jungkook to lean even closer and press his lips tightly to yours.
your brain blanked.
the movement of his lips, the way your mouths moved in unison hungrily, both of your hands moving against one another was enough to finally push you over the edge.
your legs shook whilst jungkook came too, a loud grunt leaving his lips as ropes of cum painted your walls, whilst you cried out in pleasure, the too harsh coil bursting all over your body.
you felt like you were on cloud nine, and once you had finally come down for your high, you realise you were perhaps out out of it for longer than you’d realised. your back was against jungkook’s, his arm around your waist whilst the shower head above washed both of your bodies. your legs felt weak and hard to stand on, but his grip was tight and made you steady.
“you okay?” he gently murmured down at you, with a small kiss to your forehead, causing you to nod with a little curl. “i feel so good.” you hummed, aching core a reminder of his love for you.
“good. did so good for me, sweet girl. fingered all that cum back in you too, so it’s all inside.”
his words would have scared any other girl, and yet here you were, quietly giggling to yourself like he had just said the most romantic thing on earth.
you reached over so you were turned in his arms, pressing your cheek to his chest, feeling entirely dwarfed in this position and yet it was exactly what you needed. the grin on jungkook’s lips rivalled that of a cheshire cat.
“cmon, let’s get you fed.”
the rest of the day was spent with you sat in jungkook’s arms, continuing your usual routine. you’d always been touchy, holding one another, nuzzling in one another’s neck and cuddling but this? no, this was completely different.
he had you sat on the counter whilst he cooked for you, shirtless, feeding you spoonfuls whilst he kept a hand on you at all times. later, he fed you from his lap, making sure you were full and satiated. once you were done, you both popped on a movie, watching until you felt sleepy, his arms carrying you to his bed. you slept good that night, feeling protected as you curled into jungkook’s arms, biceps wrapped around you and his fat cock hidden away in your gummy walls.
though neither of you rushed to talk about what had happened, you almost didn’t feel the need to. jungkook was yours, he always had been, and yeah you didn’t have a label, but you weren’t sure anything could accurately describe what he was to you anyway.
you fell asleep in the arms of the only man you’d ever truly cared about, body and soul, heart and mind.
—
you loved weddings more than anything else on earth. to be around people expressing joy for shared love felt pure in the sweetest of ways, and it was always an honour you held deep in your heart whenever you were invited.
you sat on a table with all of your friends. jungkook sat behind you and jimin to your right, the circular table wide and chatty, laughing with one another and clapping your hands excitedly when namjoon made his toast.
ever since that night with jungkook, things had changed. not in a bad way, oh contraire - his lips would often find your own in a sweet embrace, fleeting but gentle, his hands wandering inappropriately in their usual fashion but now it held more weight. you’d lost count on how many times he’d cum inside of you, it slowly becoming an addiction for you - you couldn’t function if he wasn’t inside you in some way. it was like a switch had shifted in both of your brains and it made you realise you didn’t want to pretend anymore, you liked his attention, yearned for it, wanted more and more and more.
you hadn’t seen him for a few days which felt like a lifetime, but your exams and your part time job kept you away from him, not that this was a deterrent. he’d send you videos you know you’d giggle at, or facetime you like he typically would. it felt different, the air had changed, and you found yourself longing for something you knew you could have.
jungkook had picked you up from yejin’s apartment, some of the other guys coming with too so you could all attend together, and he could have sworn you’d stolen his breath then and there. he’d seen you dressed for parties, or even half naked, but it didn’t compare to seeing you now. elegance dripped from every inch of you, your dress from the shop he’d bought you adorned on your body and your hair pulled back in a sweet bun, wispy pieces adorning your face. he was wearing the suit you loved so much, and the both of you couldn’t help but grin at one another.
on the ride there, the both of you sat in the back of yoongi’s car. his hand was against your thigh, possessive and meaningful and you found yourself playing with his fingers almost excitedly. you liked how visibly he wanted the world to know you belonged to him. made you feel good.
walking in, you weren’t sat together for the ceremony, with jungkook being further down in the row whilst you and yejin sat separately from the boys, much to his disappointment. this proved beneficial when he realised his position allowed for direct access to you, watching you greedily as he took you in. he couldn’t help but notice how many of the groomsmen were eyeing you up, and it made him clench his teeth but he remained quiet. a problem he’d deal with later.
the bride soon walked in, a vision in white, and jungkook watched the way your eyes utterly lit up, a little gasp leaving you. his gaze was hungry, obsessive, he couldn’t look away even if he wanted to - the way your small hands were clutched by your chest as though the mere sight of the bride had hearts pooling at your stomach. you wanted to be a bride? done, he’d get you a ring first thing tomorrow.
he was being quiet tonight, and despite now being sat behind you at the table, he’d not talked to you much. you were a slight over thinker, so you were assuming it might have been the environment, maybe he was uncomfortable at weddings? he didn’t seem uptight or anything, merely contemplative, and he was still being touchy so you assumed it was about something else as opposed to you.
silly little you had no idea that jungkook was thinking of the next steps. he’d propose to you, obviously, the title of boyfriend and girlfriend was insulting to him and he’d never stoop so low than to claim you in such a way. secondly; you’d get married, and he’d buy you a big house - he was already lined up for a high paying job that he was about to start, and he was pretty comfortable considering his family’s fortune. did you want a lot of kids? lord knew jungkook would give you a hundred if that’s what you wanted, or he’d live a life solely focused on you if that’s what you preferred. he knew you well enough to know you liked children, always cooing and complaining about baby fever to him as though he wasn’t correctly equipped to heal you from it.
after a while, you simply couldn’t take it anymore, pulling at his sleeve a little, forcing him to look at you whilst everyone ate.
“you okay?” you tilted your head at him, wispy hair falling into your face.
fuck, jungkook thought. you were beauty defined.
“yeah, i’m all good.” he confirmed, taking your tugging hand and intertwining his fingers with them underneath the table. “sorry, just been lost in thought.”
“what’re you thinking about?” you asked curiously.
he peered over your features, the way your big eyes were blinking up at him as though he held the answers to the universe.
he pressed a little kiss to your hand. “about how pretty you’d be in a white dress.”
you gasped almost immediately, catching the attention of yejin and seokjin who sat beside jungkook, before they looked away. you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him, chest beating hard at the insinuation of his words, gaze dropping to the way his lips quirked slightly at your reaction.
“why..” you cleared your throat. “why are you thinking about that?”
his thumb was tracing patterns against your skin, leaning closer to you for a minute. “i always think about you. feels fitting for the setting.”
your heart was beating. was he teasing you? you didn’t even need to think to know the concept of jungkook being your future husband was something akin to having heaven on earth. a man utterly, entirely obsessed with you, showering you with love and affection whilst being a six foot something adonis. the fact he was your closest, most cherished best friend since childhood only added a little cherry on top.
“shut up.” you pushed him lightly, but the dusting of pink in your cheeks was enough for anyone to notice.
soon enough, the wedding party actually began, with namjoon forcing all of you to dance and have fun, laughs being heard all around the room as you and other guests danced the night away. you knew you were lucky for having such a sweet circle of friends, all caring and uplifting, unafraid to make fools of themselves in the pursuit of joy.
you slipped away, grabbing yourself a champagne flute and heading out to the open balcony to get some air. you were having the time of your life, and despite having jungkook in your mind all of the time, it felt refreshing to be around such love whilst thinking of him. your best friend. your man.
a small smile formed on your face as you found yourself wanting to scream out loud, feeling so many happy emotions, humming a little as the nippy night air chilled the heat on your body, your exposed arms forming goosebumps.
“god, it’s loud out there.” a voice chirped to your left, making you gasp a little as you looked over.
a tallish man; blonde, green eyes. he was lanky, and resembled one of your exes. on any other occasion, you’d be ready to admit that he was undoubtedly your type, but at the minute, the only thing that could begin to occupy even one moment of your thoughts were that of big boba eyes and a bunny smile.
“you startled me.” you breathed, letting out a light laugh.
he grinned. “sorry.” he turned to you fully. “too much for you too?”
“just wanted some air. got myself a drink, so, can’t complain.”
he laughed in response with a little nod. you found yourself chatting to the stranger, finding out he was a close friend of the groom, was currently working as a lawyer, financially responsible, even had a dog. on paper, this man was the total catch and the fact he was being so openly responsive with you, it didn’t take a genius to figure out he clearly desired you.
however, you felt absolutely nothing.
sure he was attractive, but hardly anything could pull you away from the warmth jungkook provided. he felt like home. twisted, warped, dark and yet it felt safe, something you knew no one else could replicate. he’d known you since you were in pigtails, held your hand through every single thing you’d ever experienced and still stood tall. if not him, then who?
“okay, i’m just gonna ask. gotta shoot my shot, so..” the green eyed man, nate as you’d come to learn, turned to you. “are you single?”
your cheeks flushed almost instantly. you had a sneaky suspicion his interest was blooming from that angle and yet assumed the best. “oh..uh, not really.”
“that doesn’t seem like a confident no?” he tilted his head.
you bit your lip, a slight smile forming. “guess it’s complicated.”
“a girl like you shouldn’t be wasted on complicated. you deserve a clear answer.”
you peered up at him, nibbling on your lip and contemplating. “i know what i mean to him, we’re best friends…we’re more than anything i can describe, really. i don’t even know what you’d call us..i guess that’s why it feels complicated.”
nate took a swing of his drink. “what a lucky son of a bitch.”
you giggled at that, before feeling a heavy warmth against your back, thick fingers clutching the side of your hip and breath tickling the back of your neck, a single kiss being pressed against it. your brain swirled with content, recognising the touch almost instantly, as though you were tethered.
“very lucky.” jungkook all but purred into your skin, a small and almost shy smile forming at your lips.
the man beside you instantly understood this man to be the exact one you had spoken about, and the sight of you together, the way you both melted into each others touch floored him for a moment. you were right - this was the epitome of complicated. as a stranger peering in from the outside, he wasn’t sure what he’d call you. boyfriend girlfriend felt foolish, anything more would be too little, but the way you were reacting and touching one another felt fated.
he took his leave, the once disappointment that swirled in his stomach quickly replaced by an understanding - you were each other’s person. he didn’t stand a fucking chance.
“you scared him away.” you teased, whilst jungkook turned you in his arms, looking down at you with arms locked around your waist. “bad dog.”
“yeah, i guess i did.” he hummed. “been doing that with every man that comes your way for years. some slip through.”
you giggled. he wasn’t joking. not that you needed to know.
he twirled a strand of your hair. “you seem contemplative.”
“is a girl not allowed to think?”
“hm. i encourage it.” hands slowly slipped up to the small of your back. “tell me your thoughts?”
you bit your lip.
“what are we?” you asked quietly, as though afraid you’d break the peace in the quiet you shared with him.
jungkook didn’t falter, though. not that you expected him to, but you knew that it was an age long question that made most people uncomfortable. it was about time you realised that jungkook wasn’t like most people, and he hadn’t been for the past 15 years you’d known him.
he tilted his head slightly, so that your eyes would meet his directly.
“you are everything.” he simply responded. “i feel like anything i label you as is too small and it feels insulting, but i’ll take anything you give me.”
you nibbled further, nodding. “i know.” your voice came out a whisper. “i’ve always liked you to be honest. i guess i just put our friendship first because you’re my best friend, you mean so much to me.”
your admission was sweet, and he could feel it in the depths of his soul.
his finger reached up, tilting your head back gently and pressing a small kiss to your jaw. “i feel a lot more than like for you, y/n. think you’d run for the hills if you truly knew.”
“i wouldn’t.” you breathed out, pulling at his shirt, tugging. “wanna hear it. you can tell me.”
jungkook stared down at you.
“you are the only thing i ever think about.” his finger under your chin was now caressing your cheek. you were so delicate. “morning, afternoon, evening. i feel physically sick if i don’t see you, don’t touch you or talk to you. your voice alone feels healing.”
you breathed out a shaky breath of air.
“remember our pact? i don’t talk to yuna, you don’t talk to your dumb fuck ex.” you nodded.
“only reason i ever entertained her was because i couldn’t stomach the thought of him being around you, getting to hold you and kiss you. even now, i feel angry, feel sick even thinking about it ever being a reality.”
“jungkook..” you all but gasped out.
“i know it’s fucked up. i know it’s not normal, but my brain is warped. i’m obsessed with you, felt this way ever since we were kids and it’s just gotten worse and worse and worse. but i don’t care, baby. you’re it for me and i’m spending my life making sure you feel every bit of that, i don’t care if it means i have to tear this world and make a new one for you.”
your heart was beating out of your chest as you peered up at him, hands shaky and lips parted.
“you, y/n, are mine. i’m yours too.” he nodded. “so call me your boyfriend, or whatever you want, because soon enough, i’ll be standing up there with you walking down the aisle all pretty in white.”
he brought you closer.
“and even then, when you call me your husband, i’ll feel fucking sick. because it’s a cheap comparison for what i feel for you, what i wanna be for you - you’re one half of me, and i’ll never make you feel any less.”
peering into jungkook’s eyes, you saw a swirl of two things. love, undoubtedly, which swam in pools of ebony brown, curling around his iris and hugging the whites of his eyes as though it was the most natural thing on earth. behind it, bigger, stronger even, sat infatuation - deadly, all encompassing.
if you were a better woman, you’d run for the hills, recognise him as the apex predator whilst identifying yourself as his ideal prey. unfortunately for you, every line of obsession that made up jungkook’s entire being was matched within your own. you were every inch of what he was to you, you felt the exact same emotions, the same need, the same awe, the same primal want that you couldn’t explain to anyone else.
he was yours, yours alone and you’d never let him forget it.
you were both leaning in, about to kiss, reaching a new high and understanding when your name was called out from inside the building. within seconds, it seemed you were pulled away out onto the dance floor where the bride was ready to toss her bouquet, your figure hidden amongst the other excited women around you.
you turned, your intention to simply watch as red petals flew in the air, cascading through the crowd and landing gently within your hands, brushing your fingers gently until they found a home in your embrace.
jungkook watched from the balcony, small smirk forming as he too clapped alongside everyone else in the room.
figures, you thought, catching his gaze as you inhaled the scent of the fresh roses. even luck knew where you belonged. captured tightly against harsh thorns, possessive and rough - no way out with no will to find one.
SUMMARY. Life after high school has been pretty mundane. Give or take a few breakups, a few quarter life crises, you’ve done well for yourself. Enter Jeon Jungkook: a blast from the past and your ex-Chemistry tutor, except now, it seems he's traded in his glasses and textbooks for a lip piercing and tattoos. The universe is clearly testing you... or maybe it's giving you one last shot to get it right.
pairing. jeon jungkook x reader
word count. 21.7k
warnings/genre. ex-cheerleader!reader, oc used to be a mean girl, ex-nerd!jungkook, jungkook used to be OBSESSED with oc, like clinically obsessed (what is wrong with him), slight sexting (kinda maybe) alcohol consumption, jimin instigating but what’s new, making out in dirty club hallways, fingering in an uber, he’s HUNGRYYY, he has a d*ck piercing!, oral (f receiving), you bounce on it, he fucks you while carrying you, idk read the rest they have sex, he cums inside you
note. WE NEED TO BRING BACK THE DYING ART OF A 10k+ WORD ONE-SHOT. the concept of publishing a 7k celly when my 6k celly hasn’t even been posted yet… i hate me too. i hit 7k a few days ago but this has been in the works since man’s best friend dropped. i’m quite proud of this, if i do say so myself. also before anyone yells at me, this was NOT on the to-do list but when there’s a will, there’s a way (or in my case, if you get a little tipsy, your brain starts thinking of ex-nerd!jungkook and this happens). this is just a fun little thing. porn with plot! but anywho, thank you all for following me, for engaging with my work, for continuing to give me a platform to share my passions. i love you all. here’s to many more celly’s!
▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။|||| when did you get hot? by sabrina carpenter
banner creds | masterlist
Saturdays. 3 PM. Brunch. It’s been carved in stone since the day you met Park Jimin during your freshman year at Yonsei University, when he was still closeted and you were still treating every night like your last on earth.
Today, he’s on a rampage about his fiancé of two years, Kim Taehyung.
“Do you know what he did? He bought a twelve foot cactus. Twelve. Fucking. Feet. And guess where it is now?” Jimin waves his fork dramatically, almost stabbing two nearby patrons in the process. “In the middle of our beautifully crafted living room. He’s lost his fucking mind.”
You hum, twirling a straw in your iced latte, half-listening and half-focused on the couple next to you who seems to be arguing. “So sorry, Jiminie. I don’t know how you do it.”
“Thank you.” He sighs. “It’s a lawsuit waiting to happen when I inevitably walk into it. You know, when I told Tae to pursue art, I didn’t think it meant this.”
Taehyung and Jimin have the kind of love story that makes romantic comedies look documentary-level realistic. By comparison, your love life is a blooper reel that never made it to air. They’ve been disgustingly in love since senior year of university, and you’ve been their trusty little third wheel. While it’s comforting to hang out with a couple that has a dynamic as healthy as theirs, you do have to fight the pang of jealousy that hits you everytime.
“Last week it was the sculpture made of kitchen utensils. This week, desert plants. Next week? Probably something with a blow torch,” Jimin carries on, poking at his salad mercilessly.
You snort. “Tae doesn’t know how to work a blow torch.”
“He could, is my point. He’ll try anything once.” Jimin’s eyes light suggestively, and the gag reflex hits fast and mercilessly. “Like that one time he wanted to try out suspension and—”
“Jimin. Please. I am trying to enjoy my coffee,” you plead.
He rolls his eyes. “Like you don’t love us.”
“I do,” you reply quickly. “But please spare a girl the details of your sex escapades.”
“Maybe you’re bitter because you need some sex escapades of your own.” Jimin shrugs. He’s not saying it to be rude—the man doesn’t have a mean bone in his body, unless someone’s rude to his fiance.
Poor Park Jimin has been running a one-man campaign to get you laid for months. The last time you remotely showed interest in a man was a year ago, and that catastrophe ended with you sobbing on their couch for 72 hours straight while Taehyung made you soup and Jimin burned sage to ‘cleanse the toxic energy.’
You have no interest in any of it.
Sure, sex is cool and all, but the idea of the emotional turmoil that comes with the territory seems like something you can do without.
“What did I say about bringing up this topic again?” you groan.
“C’mon, please tell me you have something new that’ll make me feel better about my cactus situation.”
Your fingers collect the condensation on your plastic cup, pretending to be deeply engrossed by it. “I have nothing.”
“So as exciting as my cactus?”
Your foot kicks his ankle under the table and the noise he makes in retaliation is enough to get dirty looks from the other patrons. “Jesus Christ. Aren’t you a ball of fucking sunshine?” he moans in agony. “This is why you need to have sex. You get all crabby and violent when you don’t. When’s the last time you had sex again?”
Okay—there was that guy from the marketing conference in March…. No wait. That was last year. February? No, that was the guy who ghosted you after two dates. January? You weren’t even in the country in January. December feels like a decade ago but that was... oh god, was that really eight months ago? Nine? The guy with the man bun who worked at the bookstore and couldn’t find your—
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Yikes.” He gives you a dramatic side-eye, one that screams you are a pathetic loser, but lovingly. “You need to stop getting coffee with me and go get coffee with a man.”
You frown. “Well, you’re a man?”
He rolls his eyes. “A man who doesn’t enjoy the good ol’ cock up his ass.”
Fair play. Jimin leans back in his chair, studying you intently. Never a good sign. “You know what your problem is?”
You pick up your latte, taking a few sips. “Enlighten me, Park Jimin.”
“You’re too picky.”
Coffee snorts out of your nostrils, landing right onto the table. Jimin flings napkins at the mess, disgusted. “I’m sorry, have you met me? I’ve went out with some weirdos.”
“No, no, not the weirdos.” He waves a hand in the air. He;s about to go on one of his famous monologues, and all you can do is sit back in horror and watch. “I’m talking about the good ones. The ones you actually like. You find one tiny flaw and suddenly it's ‘oh, he chews too loud’ or ‘he uses the wrong there, their, they're.’ Like, relax. Nobody’s perfect.”
“Really? Says the guy currently plotting his fiance’s death over a home decor choice.”
“That’s different.” Jimin’s pinching the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and thumb, something he truly only does when you’ve exhausted his last nerve. “Taehyung and I are past the point of no return. We're in too deep. You, my dear sweet angel, are sabotaging perfectly good opportunities because you're scared.”
Of course, you’ve had this conversation with your therapist numerous times, and you’ll do anything to avoid the topic in your personal life.
But before you can open your mouth to argue, a voice cuts through. It’s low but polite, maybe a little uncertain.
“Jimin-ssi?”
You don’t bother looking up to see who it is. Jimin knows everyone and their mother, their cousin, probably their dog too. Walking down the street with him is no easy feat, considering half of Seoul stops to talk to him. So, you do what you always do: focus on your phone and ignore the small talk about someone’s new job or whatever mundane life update they’re dying to share.
You scroll through Instagram, half-listening as they exchange pleasantries. Something about the gym, mutual friends, weekend plans. Standard small talk that you've heard a thousand times.
“Yeah, bro, it’s been forever,” Jimin’s saying. He sounds happier than he normally does when he talks to these people. “I saw your LinkedIn update. How’s the new job treating you? Still insane?”
“Better now that I’m settled in,” the mysterious voice responds, and there’s something familiar about it that tickles the back of your brain, but you’re too busy watching someone's Instagram story about their breakfast to pay attention. “The team’s chill, and I don’t have to be on call on weekends anymore.”
“You deserve it after all that overtime hell,” Jimin laughs. “Oh, hey, you should totally meet my friend [YN] here. [Y/N], this is Jeon Jungkook.”
Your head snaps up. Your phone falls to your lap.
What. The. Fuck.
You haven’t heard that name since high school.
High school you, to put it mildly, was kind of a bitch.
You were a cheerleader, top of the social food chain. Naturally, you failed a few classes because you were too busy making out with Kim Mingyu behind the bleachers and planning which party to hit up on Friday night to care about things like academic integrity.
When your GPA started looking tragic enough to threaten your spot as cheer captain, the guidance counselor assigned you a tutor. And since the universe loves to have fun with you, you were paired with Jeon Jungkook. Lanky, awkward Jeon Jungkook, with messy brown hair that looks like he cut it himself with safety scissors, thin silver glasses that slid down his nose every five seconds, and wide, innocent boba eyes.
All that to say—you did what any mean girl would do and took advantage of him. Batted your eyelashes, laughed at his terrible jokes, and suddenly your chemistry homework was getting done without you having to lift a finger.
Tests? He'd leave his answer sheet just visible enough for you to copy.
Lab reports? Practically wrote themselves, if by ‘themselves’ you mean Jungkook wrote them while you filed your nails and complained about how boring science was.
So, this? This has to be a comedic joke. This is a prank. Jimin is pranking you—it’s an elaborate one, you'll give him that. That's the only logical explanation because there is absolutely no way that the scrawny, stuttering kid who used to turn tomato red everytime you asked him to explain a chemistry problem is now standing here, towering over your table.
The man who stands before you has a lip piercing, one that hugs the curvature of his pink lips. A sleeve of tattoos that curls down his arm in vivid ink. His hair is perfectly tousled, dark chestnut locks falling into each other.
And most importantly, those arms. Biceps. He could probably bench press you. Why are you thinking about him bench pressing you? Stop thinking about him bench pressing you. Oh god, you're staring. You're definitely staring. Say something. Anything. Be cool.
He is—there's no other word for it—buff. Like, really buff.
And he's looking right at you with dark eyes that definitely weren't that intense in high school, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
“[Y/N] [Y/L/N]...” His voice has a deeper timber to it, with a confidence that high school Jungkook could never have. His tone alone is enough to send a shiver down your spine. “It’s been a minute.”
“Uh, I—yeah,” you gulp down a quarter-sized lump that magically appears in your throat. “It has.”
Smooth. Incredibly smooth. Someone needs to hand you a medal for conversational excellence.
His eyes narrow into slits, like he’s analyzing you and your pathetic life. Sizing you up to discover that you’ve lost all importance in the world, and are now just another girl in the world.
Jimin, completely oblivious to everything, beams at the two of you. “Amazing! You two already know each other.” He claps his hands together. “Jungkook, you should sit. [Y/N] and I were just catching up on her sad little love life.”
Damn you, Park Jimin.
Maybe ten years ago, you wouldn’t have cared if he knew about your romantic failures, but with the black shirt hugging his biceps so perfectly, you resent Jimin’s openness.
“I was not—” you protest, but Jungkook’s already got a hand on the empty chair between you two, plopping into it.
“Was she now?” Jungkook tuts, looking over at you expectantly. “How sad is sad?”
“Okay, not sad.” You roll your eyes. “It’s just… quiet.”
His eyes dance with amusement, and you sink into the chair. “I can’t imagine you having trouble in this department.”
If only he knew the half of it.
You open your mouth to combat the embarrassment, maybe to come up with some elaborate lie about how you have three dates lined up tomorrow night, but a server interrupts you before you get the chance. She smiles at Jungkook, and you can't help but note how her eyes twinkle when she realizes how utterly attractive he is. You sink one inch lower into the chair.
Please don’t order, Jungkook. Ordering means staying and your brain (or your ego, for that matter) can’t take a second more.
She asks what he wants, pearly whites on display, and he replies smoothly, “Just a black coffee is fine. Thanks, sweetheart.”
He turns back to you and Jimin, smiling lightly. Behind him, the server trips over her own two feet a bit before adjusting her shirt and walking off. You watch the whole exchange with a weird feeling in your chest. It's not jealousy—you have no claim to be jealous. But it's something. Maybe annoyance that she was so obvious about it. Maybe annoyance that he didn't seem to notice.
“So, how do you two know each other?” Jimin’s smile resembles a mischievous cartoon villain who just tied someone to railroad tracks. Vibrating with joy, eyes gleaming, the whole nine yards. You don’t even need to hear him speak to know what he’s thinking.
“High school.”
You and Jungkook both say in unison, surprising even yourself. He glances over at you before elaborating. “I was her Chemistry tutor.”
The memory alone sends shivers of disgust down your spine. You can still picture it so clearly: high school you in your cheer uniform, sitting across from him in the library with phone in hand, texting Mingyu about whose parents were out of town that weekend while Jungkook explained electron configurations. He’d push his glasses up his nose, stumble over his words when you’d sigh and lean forward, watch him turn crimson red and stutter through the rest of the explanation.
Evil. Pure, unadulterated evil.
“You needed a tutor in high school?” Jimin snorts, taking a long sip of his drink.
“Hey, that shit isn’t easy.” You push his shoulder playfully.
Jungkook cocks an eyebrow, leaning forward in his chair. “Definitely not easy when you’re too busy with cheerleading practice to study.”
“And you were a cheerleader?” Jimin gapes.
“Okay, that’s enough reminiscing for today.”
Jimin raises his hand. “I’m not done reminiscing. I want to hear more about cheerleader [YN].”
Your face falls flat. Luckily, before Jungkook can embarrass you more with tales from a decade ago, the server comes back with his coffee, making sure to toss him the widest smile her pearly whites can muster.
Jungkook’s lips wrap around the cup. Your eyes just so happen to fall on the movement, on the way they hug the rim. Were they always that kissable or did he get lip filler?
He meets your gaze.
Shit.
You turn back to Jimin, who’s eagerly awaiting more from Jungkook. “What else don’t I know about high school [Y/N]? She’s never told me anything.”
“Well,” Jungkook starts, and by the way his lips curve upwards, you can tell the next anecdote won’t be endearing. “She did ask me once if we could ‘skip the math parts’ of chemistry.”
Jimin bursts out in laughter. “You’re kidding me.”
“In my defense, chemistry is like, ninety percent math,” you retort. “That’s a reasonable request.”
“It really wasn’t,” Jungkook counters, and his grin widens. There’s something almost… predatory about it. Like he’s enjoying watching you squirm. “But then again, you always did think the rules didn’t apply to you.”
For a moment, you can’t do anything but stare at him. This confidence, this self-assured way he’s teasing you without a hint of anxiety that used to color every interaction, is foreign.
The absolute worst part of it all is that if he wasn’t currently roasting you for being a shallow human being, this might be the sexiest thing you’ve ever witnessed.
The eye contact, the slight smirk playing at his lips, the veins poking out of his biceps. All of it both excites and confuses you.
“What do you mean?” You tilt your head, feigning innocence.
“Nothing.” He shakes his head, laughs to himself. “Just that some things never really change.”
A pregnant pause fills the space. Jimin’s eyes dart between you two like he’s at the US Open and this is the match of the century.
“You know, she also once asked me if atoms were contagious," Jungkook adds, turning to Jimin like you’re not even there. It’s a fucking power play—one that high school you invented—and you hate how effective it is.
A long exhale leaves your mouth, and you have to bite back a thousand venomous words in retaliation. Jimin laughs. “Oh, don’t worry. In college, she asked me if square roots were plants.”
Okay, so math wasn't your strongest suit. Sue a girl.
Jungkook’s hands wrap around his cup, taking a quick sip. They’re bigger than you remember, rougher, with calluses to match.
Truthfully, everything about him is just… more. Bigger, broader, bolder.
You shift gears, clearing your throat to interrupt whatever powwow Jungkook and Jimin have going on regarding your academic life. “What do you do now?”
“Software development.” Jungkook almost seems surprised that you have an interest in his life. “Started at a startup, but I just moved to a bigger company.”
“What kind of software?” you ask mindlessly, happy to have the attention finally off you.
“Mobile apps. Some web development.” Jungkook shrugs like it’s nothing, but you catch the hint of pride in his tone. “Nothing crazy.”
Jimin chimes in, eyes twinkling with mischief. “You know, [Y/N] works in marketing for a tech company. You guys probably have tons in common now.”
You want to sink through the floor. Actually—scratch that. Sinking through the floor isn’t enough. You need the floor to open up, swallow you whole, digest you, and then launch whatever remains into the sun.
You can see exactly what's happening here. You can see the gears turning in Jimin’s pretty little head. He’s planning your wedding, probably picking out centerpieces. He thinks this whole encounter is fate, some kind of romantic star-crossed lovers nonsense where the nerd gets the girl who was too stupid to notice him the first time around.
He’s going to be insufferable about this. Probably loop Taehyung into this delusion as well. There will be betting pools on when you finally hook up with Jungkook.
Which—okay, fine—you wouldn’t be completely opposed to. Hypothetically. In theory.
“How’s that going for you?” Jungkook turns to you.
“Good. I’ve been at my current company for a few years now. I just got promoted last year.” Your chest puffs out a little. There’s nothing you need to prove to him. But it doesn’t hurt, especially as he validates your words with a slight nod in approval.
“That’s awesome. I’m happy for you.”
Not said with even an inch of malice.
“Thank you.” You flip your hair over your shoulder. “See, and I didn’t even need math or chemistry to be successful.”
He chuckles. “Fair enough.”
“I know how emotionally tolling it was to tutor me, so at least your efforts didn’t go to waste,” you joke, and he cracks a smile at that, bunny teeth poking out.
“It wasn’t that emotionally tolling.” He shrugs, lifting his coffee to his lips. “It was fun. Y’know, when you weren’t texting that guy you used to date.”
He maintains eye contact with you as he takes one, two sips, and you have to clench your thighs to ignore the second heartbeat that’s beating in your vagina.
Jimin opens his mouth—probably to ask approximately eight thousand invasive follow-up questions about your high school love life—but his phone buzzes violently against the table, the vibration loud enough to rattle his fork.
Glancing down at his phone, his expression shifts from pure glee to actual panic. “Shit, I need to head out. Taehyung’s making dinner and if I’m late, he’s gonna put that weird purple pesto in it again.”
You raise an eyebrow. “Purple pesto?”
“You know how he is, babe.” Jimin frantically flags down the waiter, motioning for the check.
You and Jimin always split Saturday brunch. It’s a tradition, one that you don’t plan on breaking. You reach for your wallet in your bag, prepared to pull out your trusty debit card.
But before you or Jimin can get too far, Jungkook smacks his AMEX Platinum card down like it’s nothing.
You blink at the shiny metal. “Jimin and I always—”
“I’ve got it,” he says, all casual, like dropping 100,000 won on lunch for three people is normal for him.
To your left, Jimin has the biggest shit-eating grin of all time. “Thanks, Jungkook. You don’t have to do that.”
“It’s my treat. It’s nice to run into old friends.” He tosses you a side glance when he says the word friends, because that’s hardly what you two ever were.
Jimin’s phone buzzes again, and his eyes widen as they scan the new message. “Oh no. No, no, no.”
“What?!” You lean forward, trying to peek at his phone.
“Yeontan threw up all over the new rug. Taehyung just sent me a picture, it’s…” He makes a sour face. “I gotta go. Code red dog situation.”
“Is he okay?” you ask, because despite Jimin’s dramatics, that little ball of fur is your ray of sunshine.
“He’s fine.” He stands, shrugging on his thin sweatshirt. “He probably ate something he should have. This was great though! We should all hang out again soon!”
And then he’s sprinting out of the cafe, leaving you all alone at the table with none other than Jeon Jungkook.
If you didn’t know better, you’d say Jimin planned this. Although, to be fair, you do know better, and he one hundred percent planned this. You're going to kill him. You're going to actually murder your best friend.
The waiter comes by, charging Jungkook’s card while you sit there awkwardly, twiddling your fingers. You don’t know what to do with yourself, quite frankly.
“Jimin isn’t very subtle,” Jungkook says, signing the receipt and placing it aside.
“Jimin doesn’t do subtle.” You fidget with your napkin. “He probably planned this.”
He quirks an eyebrow. “Oh, really? You think so?”
“I know so. He’s been trying to set me up with someone for months.”
Crossing his bulky arms over his chest, he leans back in his chair. “How’s that working out for him?”
“Well,” you begin, “Considering the last attempt was one of his coworkers who turned out to be married, I would say pretty terrible.”
“Jesus.”
“I’m not really into the whole polyamory thing,” you joke.
Jungkook laughs and stands, and you follow suit, realizing how much taller he is than you. Not that he hasn’t always been tall, but now he has the ego to match it.
“Want me to walk you to your car?” he asks.
You bashfully look down at your feet. In your years of living in Seoul, you’ve never once been embarrassed about taking the bus before. The Korean bus system is efficient and better for the environment. But Jungkook, with his fancy tech job, probably has some sleek car that makes the bus system look like a clown car.
“I took the bus, actually.”
Immediately, without so much as a second thought, he goes, “I’ll drive you home.”
“You don’t need to—”
“I know I don’t need to.” He strolls towards the exit, holding the door open for you to glide through first. “I want to.”
Wait. Is he… is he flirting? That was definitely flirting, right?
If he is very specifically flirting with you, that means he either has a terrible memory or some kind of revenge plot in the works. Both options seem likely and panic-inducing.
When you finally get outside, the crisp afternoon air dances across your skin. The autumn leaves crunch beneath your feet. You keep a few inches for God between you and Jungkook, and he falls into a comfortable pace beside you, matching you.
His hands are nestled into his pockets, kicking leaves as he walks. Now that you two are alone, he’s returned to some of his old habits, like being quiet around you when there’s nothing to fill the noise with.
“How do you like your job?” he finally decides upon asking, and your head lifts to peer at him. He’s gazing at you intently, clearly waiting for an answer.
“I like it. Most days, it’s creative, but we do a good amount of analytical work too.”
“Why did you choose marketing?” He seems genuinely interested in your answer, which sends tingles down your spine. It’s been a while since someone has cared enough to ask about your life beyond the standard two questions.
“Well, you know I suck at math,” you start, and he laughs at that. A deep sound that reverberates in his chest and makes your insides mushy. “I also hate science, so that wasn’t an option. I like being creative, and I’m a visual person. I took an intro class and it stuck.”
He nods, soaking it in. “Was college you the same as high school you?”
You know what he’s asking. Was college you also the biggest bitch alive, or did you grow out of that phase?
“Nah.” You shake your head. “I’m not as shallow… or annoying.”
He smiles. “Good to know.”
You reach his car—a black BMW that looks like it was ripped right off the set of Fifty Shades of Grey—and he unlocks it with a soft beep.
“Your car is nice,” you note, and his cheeks turn a soft pink at the compliment.
“Thanks. I figured I should probably upgrade from the bus at some point.” He opens the passenger door for you, causing you to almost trip getting in at the sheer thoughtfulness.
You frown. “Hey! I still take the bus.”
He raises his hands up in surrender. “Not hating on the bus. I took that bad boy for years.”
Jungkook closes your door, rounding the car to the driver's seat and hopping in. the inside of the vehicle smells like leather, mixed with the faint scent of his cologne. Your brain can’t help but go a little fuzzy—scents are your weakness. Any man who smells good deserves to get their dick sucked, period.
“Address?” he asks, starting the engine.
You give it to him, and he inputs it into the GPS. Fifteen minutes, it spits back. Fifteen minutes in a car alone with Jeon Jungkook, the most confusing blast from your past.
Peeking over at him, you take his appearance in. His jaw is defined and sharp. Could probably cut glass on that thing. His nose juts out, big enough for you to wonder if he’s ever let a girl sit on his face. God, you really need to get laid. You’ve resorted to sexualizing the man you used to tease in high school like some kind of medieval man who just saw an ankle for the first time.
The guilt of your past sits heavy in your chest, but your body doesn’t seem to care. It wants what it wants, ethics be damned.
You don’t deserve to be this turned on by someone you treated like human furniture for two years. But here you are, wondering about the logistics of his face between your thighs, and maybe that makes you exactly as terrible as you’ve always suspected.
Your eyes wander down to his biceps, down to his arms that are cluttered with tattoos. Different designs snake down his skin, some with color, and it takes all your might not to reach out and trace them. Fuck, now you’re thinking about his hands gripping the steering wheel. The veins. Those long fingers—
“You have a lot of tattoos,” you blurt out.
His eyes remain on the road, but his lips curl upwards. A little bit like a smirk. “I do.”
“When did you start getting them?” you wonder aloud.
“College. I started with one, but then I got addicted and kept going.” He glances at you for a second before turning his attention back to the road. “You disapprove?”
“No! No, they’re… they look good. Really good.” You want to die. “But it is different from what I expected from you.”
His gaze hardens. “A lot of things are different from high school.”
Silence fills the air as you two continue along the highway in the direction of your neighborhood. Your town is quaint, not too far outside of the main downtown area of Seoul. It’s so peaceful that your neighbors are two elderly women who treat you like their daughter.
You wonder where Jungkook lives. If you had to guess, he probably lives in Gangnam, the upscale area in Seoul. Fancy tech job, fancy car… he must have a fancy house to match. Or a fancy girlfriend.
“Do you live near here?” you ask, hoping to sound as casual as possible. Although, realistically speaking, there is nothing casual about interrogating your ex-Chemistry tutor.
“Not too far. I’m about ten minutes by car.” His grip loosens on the wheel a little. “Near Hannam-dong.”
So, you were kind of right. Hannam-dong, where all the celebrities and rich people live.
Before you can stop yourself, you say, “Do you live alone, or…?”
It’s possibly the least subtle question in the history of subtle questions, but you need to know.
Jungkook’s grip on the wheel tautens, and when you look over at him, there’s a scarlet flash creeping up his neck. “I—yeah. Alone. It’s just me.”
Is he… blushing?
“Oh, cool.” You try not to sound too pleased by the information. “That’s really cool. I mean, not cool that you’re alone if you don’t want to be alone, but cool that you have your own space and— y’know, everything.”
Nailed it.
“It’s—yeah, it’s good.” He clears his throat, and suddenly, you get a glimpse of the man you remember in high school. Less like the confident, macho guy from the cafe, and more like the boy who used to stumble over his words when you asked him questions. “No one to, uh, bother me or anything. Not that having anyone would be bothering, I just meant—I live alone. No girlfriend or—”
He stops himself, like he’s just realized what he’s saying, and the flush spreads to the tip of his ears. Oh my god. He’s flustered. Jeon Jungkook, with his tattoos and lip ring and his whole sexy confident energy, is flustered because you asked if he lives alone.
The ex-mean girl in you rises to the surface, bubbles in your throat. It’s been a while since you’ve activated her. Not since college, that one time when Park Eunji threatened your spot as sorority president. That version of you knew exactly what to do: touch his arm, squeeze once, watch him stutter. Make him want you so badly it hurts, then pull away. It's muscle memory, this kind of manipulation. You hate that it's still there, your instinct to weaponize attraction.
You want him to be nervous around you. It’s a sick, twisted thought you have, and you don’t know where it comes from, but you want it. “No girlfriend,” you repeat, trying to hide your smile. Reaching out, you place a small hand on his bicep, squeeze once. His bicep is firm under your palm, and the second you make contact, you realize what you've done. That was flirting 101. High school you would’ve done that without thinking twice, but current you? Current you doesn’t have that kind of game anymore. Abort mission. Abort.
You yank your hand back to your lap like he’s made of volcanic ash.
“I didn’t—that’s not—” He runs a hand through his locks, messing it up even more. “I’m just giving context about my living situation.”
“No, I got it.” You keep your eyes trained on the road, even though your heart is doing somersaults in your chest. “Though, I have to admit, I’m shocked.”
He gulps thickly. He pulls up to a red light, finally looking over at you directly. There’s vulnerability in his expression, polar opposite to his earlier reactions to you. “Are you making fun of me?”
Huh. You don’t know why, but the fact that old, anxious Jungkook still lives somewhere deep within him makes your stomach backflip. “I would never,” you reply dramatically, waving your hand for emphasis. “I’m just speaking aloud.”
Jungkook hums at that, focusing his attention back onto the street. It’s quiet again, if not for the sound of the engine purring and the awkward tension that’s loitered in the car since you stepped inside.
He doesn’t need to ask you anything else anyway, since Jimin did a good job of outing you as the most single girl in the history of single girls. He might as well have just admitted you’re a born again virgin.
The familiar road of your neighborhood looms ahead, and a pit of despair swallows your stomach whole. You really don’t want to get out of the car that smells like him. It would be embarrassing how you’ve begun to thirst over him, but after not getting laid in a while, you’re about ready to unzip your pants and jam your fingers in there.
“Is it the building up ahead?” he questions, pointing to the cream apartment complex that you reside in. You nod sweetly, smiling brightly. You dial up the ol’ high school charm.
“Thanks, Jungkook. I really appreciate it.” Another quick flutter of your lashes as he puts the car in park, taking a deep breath and angling his body to look at you.
“Of course. Anytime.” His face remains stoic, probably hoping to not look like you affect him anymore than you already have.
Your fingers land on the handle, pushing it open to let the brisk air in, replacing the suffocating tension in the car. “Well, I wish you the best. It was nice running into you today.”
Maybe you should invite him to come up. Maybe you should invite him for a nightcap? Granted, it is midday and there’s no actual alcohol in your home, but you can think of something real quick.
But he doesn’t move toward you, or show any other inclination of interest. In fact, you’re feeling kind of slutty right about now. He probably thinks you’re some kind of embarrassing gold digger—which like, yes, you might be. For him only.
Quietly, he says, “You too,” and that’s the end of that.
And just as you’re about to slam the passenger door shut and head upstairs to scream into your pillow, Jungkook abruptly speaks. “[Y/N].”
You whip around as fast as your body will let you. “Yeah?”
His big eyes twinkle under the sunlight rays reflecting on the car, two bunny teeth poking out as he sheepishly smiles. You’re going to have fantasies about that mouth later.
“Just so you know, today wasn’t planned. But I’m really, really happy I ran into you.”
Huh Yunjin’s birthday bash has never been an easy feat. Every year, without fail, there’s a table bought at an exclusive club, and your entire friend group blacks out within the hour. You’re not sure how she gets away with it, but your love for her and mild fear of disappointing her clearly gets her very far.
Hence why you’re standing in a shopping mall at 3 PM, trying to decipher what makeup product she would like best. Her birthday gift needs to be top notch, because you’re up against Kim Taehyung and Park Jimin, and those two have some kind of gaydar for gift-giving. Last year, Taehyung got her a vintage Chanel bag he “just found” at a thrift store. The year before, Jimin surprised her with tickets to see Beyonce. You’re operating at a disadvantage here.
You pick up another lipstick, eyeing the two intensely. A salesperson loiters over your shoulder, waiting to pounce at any given moment. In the end, you opt for a sleek red lip gloss, one that you know will pair well with her peachy skin. The relief that washes over you at finally securing her gift is endless.
Pushing past the doors of the shop, you blend into the rest of the mall-goers. It’s pretty packed for an afternoon, but you figure it has something to do with the sales going on. 50% off for shoes… hm. Across the way, you see a sign for 25% off scarves, and you squint to try and make out the tiny writing. Buy one, get one free—
“Oof!”
Your body collides into something firm, something warm. It’s fleeting, and you jump back several feet, immediately armoring yourself with numerous apologies. “Oh gosh, I’m so sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going—”
A deep chuckle. “I’m not mad about it.”
You know that voice. That voice has been haunting your wet dreams and your poorly-written mental fanfiction.
When you were ten, you got chosen to attend a unicorn retreat. It was a glorified horse camp, but it was five days of pure magic. Horses walking around with plastic horns on their head, offering unlimited rides to anyone who wanted one. Magical doesn’t even feel like the proper word to describe it.
You thought that was the most enchanting moment of your life. But this… this rivals any stupid pony. This makes those ponies look like donkeys. In fact, with the luck you’ve been given, you might rent a unicorn and a castle.
In front of you stands Jeon Jungkook, looking somehow more scrumptious than he did a few days ago. Defying the damn laws of hotness. You’d spent a good few hours tossing and turning in bed, dreaming about his lips, his eyes, his veiny hands. He looks like he stepped straight out of your wet dream, adorned in a zip-up sweatshirt and black t-shirt, fluffy hair askew.
His eyes still carry that same twinkle from the last time you saw him, and you wonder if they’re like this all the time, or if it's just for you.
“Hi,” you exhale breathily.
“Hello.” He smiles at you, and it’s sweet, just a little dopey, and so decidedly adorable that you want to gnaw on his cheeks like a dog with a chew toy. “Must be my lucky day to run into you again.”
“Clearly.” He is flirting. Sure, there were doubts in your mind before this, but anyone who says those kinds of things, is someone who wants to be balls deep inside you. “I don’t normally treat pedestrians like bumper cars, though.”
Jungkook laughs at that, a melodic sound that sends vibrations from your head to your toes. “If I was a better man, I might’ve moved out of the way to make room for you.”
“Well, then I guess it’s my lucky day you’ve decided to not be a better man,” you counter, and he takes a step closer to you, allowing the people behind him to filter around. A mom of three tosses him an evil glare, but you could care less.
“I was actually hoping to talk to you again so I could ask you a question.” His eyes bore into you, the eye contact making the walls of your vagina contract incessantly. His confidence from the cafe has returned with a vengeance, and you’re not sure what’s gotten into him, but you hope it never leaves.
“I might have an answer,” you tease.
His lips quirk upwards into a soft smirk, one that would normally disgust you but doesn’t whatsoever. “I was thinking you and I should get dinner sometime. Maybe catch up one-on-one.”
If this were a game of tennis, you just won match point. He served, you returned, and now the ball’s sitting in his court while he watches it roll away. Checkmate. Victory. Crowd goes berzerk.
But you know how to play this game. Even though you’re a little out of commission, you still invented half the rules in high school. And rule number one: never let them see you sweat. Rule number two: make them work for it.
Tilting your head, you pretend to consider it like you haven’t thought about what underwear you would wear to this hypothetical one-on-one time. “Maybe,” you say, drawing out the syllables. “I’ll have to check my calendar.”
Your calendar is wide open. Your calendar has been wide open for months. Your calendar is begging for plans. Your calendar is weeping with joy at the possibility of having something on it besides ‘therapy 2 PM’ and ‘don’t forget your lexapro.’
But here’s the thing: if you say yes immediately, if you're too eager, too easy, he’ll figure it out. He'll realize you're still that girl who only wants things because they're shiny and new, who gets bored the second the chase is over. Except this time, the thing you want isn’t a spot on the homecoming court or the captain of the basketball team’s attention—it’s him.
“Maybe?” He’s grinning now, full teeth, like he’s finally been let in on how the game works. “I pour my heart out and I get a maybe?”
“You didn’t pour your heart out. You asked to get dinner.”
He scoffs, “Same thing.”
“Not even remotely close, lover boy.” You migrate an inch backwards, so miniscule he hardly notices.
Something flickers across his face at the nickname—amusement, or something darker, more interested. His eyes track your movements like a predator watching prey.
“I feel like you’re just testing fate at this point,” he jokes. You can see the gears turning in his head, shifting and transforming to try and get to his end goal: you.
“It’s worked once before already.” You shrug, taking a few more steps back.
“Alright, well, can I at least get your number? Not really feeling like leaving it all up to the universe.” The color drains from his face slowly as he realizes you’re really, truly, going to walk away. His voice raises a little at the end of the sentence.
“I’ll see you around, Jungkook.”
With that, you turn on your heel, bags in tow, and make your way towards the exit of the mall with what you hope exudes confidence, and not like someone who’s about to sprint outside and scream into the void. His eyes burn into your back the entire way. Don’t turn around. You’re doing so well. You’re a mysterious enigma. You’re unattainable.
You trip over your own two feet and have to do some weird stumble-hop recovery move just so you don’t eat shit in the middle of the mall.
Okay, so maybe not entirely mysterious. But you do make it outside with a goofy grin on your face, caught in some kind of daze, all because your ex-Chemistry tutor has made it abundantly clear he wants to see you again.
The following Saturday, you and Jimin cozy up at a nearby cafe—a different one than last week’s. You suggested it over text a few days ago, after you had run into Jungkook, because there was some perverse thrill to testing fate and the universe’s weird way of working. Jimin, who could care less where he got his cup of coffee, agreed with a shrug of his shoulders.
“So, tell me again why you didn’t give him your number,” Jimin furrows his brows, picking at his limp salad in disgust. He’s trying this new diet that only allows for 1000 calories a day, and it’s made him even more judgmental than usual. “Walk me through your thought process here.”
You sigh. “Jiminie, I told you already. I’m playing the game.”
“The game… I hate straight people.”
“Hey, you did the same thing with Tae when you guys first started out,” you frown, taking a prolonged sip of your iced latte. Senior year, Jimin refused to see Taehyung more than once a week in fear of seeming too desperate and clingy, even though he texted him every five minutes anyway.
Jimin lets out a long-suffering sigh, pushing the soggy lettuce into the corner of his plate. “Tae and I are different. We’re homosexuals. There’s no rules when society already hates you anyway. But you are playing a dangerous game with him.”
Rolling your eyes, you scoff. “I’m not. I’m playing hard to get.”
“How do you know he won’t get bored?” It’s an innocent question that, when asked, makes you want to bash your head into a concrete wall. “I mean, you’ve seen the guy. He probably has a roster of girls throwing their phone number at him.”
You pause mid-sip, straw frozen against your lips. You… hadn’t actually thought about it like that. In your mind, this whole thing has been about you trying to regain an inch of the upper hand, about making Mr. Cocky work for it. But Jimin's right—Jungkook isn’t the same nerdy kid who would wait around forever for a crumb of your attention. You’re also not the cheerleader that everybody’s dying to get their hands on. He could have anyone, and yet his sights are set on you (or well, as far as you know).
“Then I guess we’ll just have to see how into me he is.” You shrug, but no ounce of you feels calm.
Jimin quirks an eyebrow. “Really? Off of one conversation after ten years, he’s supposed to be magically in love with you?”
“Okay, first of all, it was two conversations, and second of all, do you have no faith in your hot and sexy best friend?” You swish your hair for good measure, but Jimin doesn’t buy it for a second. Your charms have no effect on his gay self.
“I do have faith in you. However, I can’t recall the last time you’ve successfully kept a guy around after the first kiss…” he trails off, pretending to count on his fingers. You gasp, appalled by the insinuation.
“Park Jimin,” you scold. He bursts into a fit of laughter, wiping faux tears from his eyes, and you really can’t help but follow suit at the hysterics of it all. “You’re the worst.”
“I’m honest, babe,” he says through another fit of giggles. “You hate to see it.”
“Jimin? [Y/N]?”
The laughter dies down within a millisecond. Somewhere in the distance, you swear you hear a record scratching.
Tentatively, you crane your neck upwards. Lo and behold, Jeon Jungkook stands before your table, holding an iced coffee and looking between you and Jimin in bewilderment. He must have a tracker planted inside you, because although you had daydreamed about this scenario approximately ten times in the past few days, never did you actually think it would come to fruition.
“Why are you here?” you blurt, and Jimin throws you a glare, facepalming. You slap a hand over your mouth. You have the sudden, embarrassing, debilitating urge to vomit.
Jungkook laughs, and you notice the tip of his ears turning pink. “I could ask you the same thing. This is my regular spot.”
“This is—” You glance around the cafe, like the answer will appear written in invisible ink. “Since when?”
“Since I moved to the area?” He’s donning a massive grin now, one that lights up his entire face.
Your face falls flat. In your frantic search for a new cafe, you neglected the fact that the new spot you selected is located in Hannam-dong. Exactly where he told you he lived last week.
Jimin’s completely forgotten his salad, jumping in to save you from the depths of shame. “Jungkook! Join us.” He’s already pulling out an empty chair before he can protest.
Jungkook shakes his head, the hoop earrings in his ear moving with him. “I don’t want to interrupt—”
“Don’t be silly,” Jimin retorts quickly, shooting you a look that both screams: you’re an idiot and this is fate knocking at your door. “Come, sit here.”
Jungkook hesitantly sets his drink down, sitting down in the chair. “So, what were you guys laughing at before?”
You blink a few times, utterly speechless. There’s no universe in which you admit to Jungkook what you two were discussing before his appearance.
“Nothing crazy,” Jimin starts, and he has this glint in his eyes he only gets when he’s about to do something so diabolically crazy you’ll have to second-guess your friendship. “She was just telling me about this guy she’s playing hard to get with. Real shame, honestly. He sounds great.”
What the fuck is going on? you ask yourself silently. Your mind is shooting blanks.
Jimin sips his water nonchalantly as if he didn’t just throw you under the bus.
You finally muster up the courage to speak. “Jimin’s being crazy,” you say, trying to recover some dignity. “There’s no guy.”
“Really?” Jungkook’s smirk is unrattled. “At the mall, you said you had to check your calendar. It sounds like you’re pretty busy.”
Oh, he wants to play this game.
“I am busy.” You lift your chin in defiance.
“Doing what?” Jimin chimes in. After this lunch date, he’s lucky if you ever respond to one of his texts ever again. “You texted me yesterday saying you were bored.”
“I hope you die, Park Jimin,” you mutter.
He turns to Jungkook, a conspiratorial grin plastered on his face. “She’s playing hard to get. I told her it's a terrible strategy, but does she listen? No.”
Jungkook’s eyes don’t waver from your face. “Hard to get, huh?”
“That is not what I’m doing,” you huff, even though that’s exactly what you’re doing, and all parties present at the table know it.
“No, it makes sense.” Jungkook nods, leaning forward in his chair. “After all, you have that busy calendar… you know, the one you need to check.”
“Exactly,” you agree.
“And have you? Checked it, I mean?”
You stare blankly at him.
“I’ve been meaning to.”
“Mm,” Jungkook hums, sipping his coffee. The white t-shirt and grey sweatpants combo he’s wearing today makes you feel like a rabid animal who’s been deprived of food for too long. “Who’s the lucky man?”
“Get this,” Jimin jumps in eagerly. “She met him at the mall.”
“The mall?” Jungkook asks incredulously, dropping his chin into his open palm.
“And she didn’t even give him her number.” Jimin continues this charade as if you’re not even sitting there. Which, you really wish you weren’t. In fact, you might just bury yourself six feet under this cafe after everything’s said and done.
“Wow,” Jungkook tuts. “I hope that guy gets her number somehow.”
“Seems like a long shot.” You shrug, fiddling with your straw.
“Right. I mean, we can’t forget about fate, because fate’s probably working in that guy’s favor.”
It hits you square in the chest, that Jungkook really does know exactly what he’s done, that he is perfectly aware of the effect he has on you.
There's a pause. A long pause. Jimin is grinning like the Cheshire cat, and you're seriously considering faking a medical emergency.
Jungkook’s biceps strain against his shirt, tongue darting out to play with his lip ring. “You know what I think?” His voice drops several octaves, low enough for you and Jimin to hear. “I think this guy should just show up at your door. Skip all the games.”
“That would be weird,” you quip.
“Would it?” Tilting his head, Jungkook observes you. Feels like he’s seeing right through you with x-ray goggles. “Even if you’ve been thinking about him too?”
You’re painfully aware of how close he is, how his knee is almost touching yours under the table, how his eyes keep dropping to your lips. Your brain is short-circuiting. You can’t think, can’t breathe, can’t do anything except stare at him and wonder what would happen if you just gave in.
“There’s rules to be followed,” you finally mumble.
“Rules for what?” Jimin snorts.
In hindsight, that probably wasn’t the smartest excuse you could’ve conjured up. No one seems to understand the dying art of playing hard to get anymore.
But, really, it was only a matter of time before you lost your temper and threw in the towel. You were never good at winning anything besides cheerleader championships, anyway. “The game, Jimin. The fucking game I explained to you already. Just so we’re all clear, by the way, I was trying to enjoy my lunch before you two decided to gang up on me, so thank you both very much.”
Jimin and Jungkook deadpan, eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights.
Embarrassment courses through your veins, choking your throat. It’s not like you meant to have an outburst and openly admit you’re playing the game with Jeon Jungkook, a man who you used to ignore as if he were invisible. Sometimes a girl gets sexually frustrated and it manifests in interesting ways.
“I’m going to the bathroom,” you grumble. You speed-walk as fast as your legs will take you, all the way to the restroom, locking yourself in one of the stalls and plopping down on the toilet. You can’t pinpoint why you’re suddenly overcome with some silly desire to win this ‘game’ you conjured up in your head, why you won’t just give in to what he so clearly wants to offer you.
But maybe—and you don’t want to admit it—there’s a residual guilt that lives deep inside you. One that when you really face, reminds you of just how cruel you were to others in high school. There was a time in your teenage life where you thought being the queen bee of high school meant you were at the apex of the universe. Now that the tables have turned, and you’re not as big as you once were, maybe you don’t deserve what the universe is trying to offer you.
Maybe you don't deserve what Jeon Jungkook is trying to offer you.
It’s Sunday, but it’s hardly peaceful or restorative. Saturday night was spent partying with Yunjin and Chaewon at some club in Gangnam that served drinks comparable to battery acid, which is why you’re currently battling the worst hangover of your entire life. Your head is pounding so hard you can hear your heartbeat in your eyeballs. And you're pretty sure you're still drunk, which means the real hangover hasn't even hit yet.
There’s no one to blame but yourself. Your brain was a broken record last night: Jungkook, high school, the game. The only way to stop the endless loop was to wash it down with copious soju shots.
Groggily, you roll over and unplug your phone from the charger. A quick scroll through your missed notifications and it’s the usual suspects: Jimin, Yunjin, Taehyung…
Wait.
Your eyes squint into slits, trying to make sense of the unknown number that sent you one message at 8 AM. You don’t recognize it. Spam, probably. Or maybe someone from last night asking if you got home okay. You don’t remember giving your number to anyone, but then again, you don't remember much after midnight.
You unlock your phone, rub your eyes, and adjust to the bright white light of your messages.
+823137565798 waited ten years to run into you again, [Y/N]. im not really interested in waiting another ten to see if fate brings us together a fourth time
It doesn’t take much time for you to put together the puzzle pieces.
You gasp, nearly flinging yourself off your bed at the realization. You reread the message one, two, three times, just to confirm he really said your name in it. You try to do a little excited kick under your covers, but your legs are tangled in your sheets and you nearly fall off the bed.
After yesterday’s temper tantrum, you had exited the bathroom to see Jeon Jungkook no longer present at the table. Jimin shrugged, said ‘he was tired, so he went home,’ and that was the end of that. You were under the impression that you ruined the entire charade, that you wouldn’t have to worry about the game because you already lost anyway.
But here he is, in your messages, contradicting your worst fears.
you who’s this?
Squealing, you throw your phone to the side, but within a few seconds, it lights up again with a new message.
+823137565798 wild guess?
you my amazon package?
You snort as you watch him read it and begin typing.
+823137565798 close. even better
An unwarranted smile sneaks its way onto your face.
you enlighten me
+823137565798 it’s your ex chemistry tutor from high school. that weird dude
you weird dude is how you’re choosing to introduce yourself?
+823137565798 trying to be humble
+823137565798 so about yesterday
Your hangover creeps back into your skull, your head pounding to the beat of a drum.
you we don’t need to talk about yesterday
+823137565798 why not?
you because i embarrassed myself?
+823137565798 you didn’t. thought it was cute
+823137565798 may have also told your best friend i needed your number in the name of saving you from your drought, so you’re not the one who embarrassed themselves
Staring at the message, your alcohol-riddled brain struggles to make sense of the words in front of you. Heat spreads from your chest to your neck to your cheeks. The guilt tries to claw its way up—you don’t get to feel this giddy, not about him—but your body overrules it with a decisive vote. Your hangover is completely forgotten now, replaced by a warm flutter in your stomach that has nothing to do with last night's tequila.
It’s so unlike him, the polar opposite of what Jeon Jungkook used to evoke in you, but the mere thought of him ending your sex drought sends a tingle down your spine.
You’re grinning like a foolish schoolgirl now, dignity be damned. You save his number to your contacts, makes it official in your brain.
you are you offering to get me out of my drought?
You fling your phone to the opposite side of the bed, and scream into your pillow.
The buzz causes you to shoot back up, heart thumping in your throat as you read his response.
jungkook possibly
Somewhere in the sky, your guardian angel is doing backflips.
Hands shaking, heart pumping blood erratically, you type back:
you take a girl to dinner first
The three dots pop up almost immediately, and then:
jungkook tried that already. the girl ran away from me :/
Technically, he’s right. You did run away. And now he’s resorted to joking about it, like it doesn’t bother him. But it should bother him. Should annoy him that the girl who didn’t acknowledge his existence in high school is now playing games with him like she has any right to.
You don’t know how to let him be nice to you, how to let him want you, when all you can remember is a younger you rolling your eyes while he patiently explained molecular bonds. You were cruel. Mostly in small ways that probably hurt more than massive shows of dismissiveness, but harsh nonetheless.
Guilt sits burdensome in your chest, a thorn in your side. Deep down, you’re terrified that when he finally sees you clearly—really sees you, not the filtered version you're trying to present—he’ll realize what you already know. That you were never worth the wait.
Your fingers loom over the keyboard, twiddling. The guilt is there, always there, always a dark cloud hanging. You were cruel to him. Casual about it, even. Used him like a tool and never once considered that he was a person with feelings that could be hurt.
But maybe—and this is the thought that's been needling at you since the cafe—maybe the worst thing you could do now is waste his second chance on you by playing games. Maybe the cruelest thing would be pretending you don’t want this when you so obviously, desperately do.
On the one hand, honesty is terrifying and vulnerability makes you nauseous.
But, on the other hand…
you well maybe the girl wants to see if you’re full of shit or not
Your heart speeds up behind the confines of your ribs.
jungkook i’m not the same guy from high school. i don’t play about what i want
With bated breath, you type your response. It’s a question that you know the answer to, and you don’t know why you need him to say it, but he will anyway.
you and what is it that you want?
jungkook you.
The night of Huh Yunjin’s birthday creeps up slowly on you, amidst a week busied with work, adult errands, and most stupidly, thoughts of Jungkook. The thoughts of him play, pause, tape spooling, and then rewind on a constant loop, unrelenting in their nature.
You hadn’t spoken to him much after your last exchange, minus some ‘good morning’ texts from him that you responded to politely. It’s foreplay, if nothing else, because even a few words from him are enough to leave you giddy for days to come.
You fully intend to take him up on his offer, you just don’t know when. .
Sinkhole is packed to the brim, sweaty bodies colliding in an attempt to feel human intimacy. A disco ball hangs loosely from the ceiling, transmitting silver light across the dance floor. The DJ is spinning up cringy Top 40 hits you haven’t heard since college, but the amount of soju shots you’ve consumed within the past hour masks the embarrassment you feel.
“Cheers to my 28th!” Yunjin yells in your ear, raising her shot glass in the air. Jimin abandons making out with Taehyung in favor of lifting his shot glass with hers, and you can’t help but join in on the festivities.
Yunjin keeps toasting to things that get progressively more unhinged. ‘To being 28! then ‘To my IUD!’ then ‘To tax evasion!’
You're not sure she's even joking on that last one.
You’ve lost count of how many you’ve taken, but the liquor burns less with each passing shot.
“Happy birthday, baby!” Jimin leans over the table you’re all perched at, pressing a chaste kiss to Yunjin’s cheek. She giggles in delight, smiling brightly in the way only a drunk person could.
“Oh, why thank you, Jiminie,” she laughs. “And thank you, Tae and [Y/N] for buying the table!”
It was 75% Taehyung and 25% you, but you’ll accept her gratitude. Buying a table at the club with unlimited alcohol was also part of your master plan to get absolutely obliterated and halt all thoughts of Jungkook, at least for the night.
“[Y/N], we need to find you a hot guy tonight. That dress is doing insane things to your legs,” Yunjin whines, pushing your shoulder. “There’s soooo many boys here.”
Jimin and Taehyung share a meaningful look, one that you don’t miss. Rolling your eyes, you say, “I’m not looking for anyone tonight. I want to spend it with you.”
“Booooring.” She pokes your side, raising her voice to be heard over the sound of Usher. “If you ditch me on my birthday to fuck a hot dude, I won’t be mad.”
“But I don’t want to fuck a hot dude—”
Jimin clears his throat. “Well, actually, you do. He’s just not here right now.”
There goes your vow to ignore all Jungkook thoughts this evening.
“Jimin.”
“What? It’s true,” he giggles, cozying up into Taehyung’s side. “The guy practically sexted you last weekend.”
Feeling caught, you busy yourself with the hem of your black bodycon dress. “Whether I fuck him or not is nobody’s business but my own,” you mumble.
“Oh, please,” Taehyung rolls his eyes. “You’ve been needing to get laid for months. We’re your best friends, which makes it our business.”
“She’s just upset that she ignored him in high school and now he’s this big, hunky guy,” Jimin snickers.
Taehyung frowns. “Bigger than me?”
“Okay, enough,” you snap, pouring more soju into the empty shot glasses. “I just wanna get drunk and enjoy my night.”
“I’m sure you would enjoy your night more if you had a big, sexy man to take care of you. I know I would,” Jimin chuckles. Not in a mean way, but your heart does sink a little as you watch him give Taehyung an open-mouthed kiss.
Yunjin turns to you. “Why haven’t you fucked him?”
You don’t know when this became an intervention, but everyone seems arduously interested on whether or not you fuck Jeon Jungkook.
You shrug. “I don’t know. It’s not that I don’t want to—trust me, I do—I just… feel a little bad about how I treated him in high school.”
Your friend snorts, rolling her eyes with an affectionate smile playing upon her lips. “If he felt bad about how you treated him, he wouldn’t be pursuing you.”
“She’s right,” Jimin jumps back in, and you fight the urge to slam his head into the table. He picks up a soju shot. “It’s kinda cute how desperate he seems for your attention. That’s a guy who’s gonna eat you out like his life depends on it.”
The mental image of his moist, plump lips wrapping around your clit has your thighs trembling under the table, but you clamp them before anyone can notice.
“I’m gonna fuck him,” you promise. “I swear.”
Taehyung raises an eyebrow. “I hope you do, before someone else snatches you up.” He tilts his head in the direction of a man eye-fucking you, and your stomach queases.
“He’s cute,” Jimin takes his shot, and you follow suit. There’s no way you’re getting through this night without getting absolutely obliterated.
“Oooo, there’s a really cute guy over there. 12:00,” Yunjin leans into the group, whispering as lowly as she can over the sound of Kesha.
You refuse the desire to look. Taehyung, however, lets his eyes wander to who she’s talking about. Luckily, Jimin is too entranced by pouring himself another soju shot to care. “Oh fuck me. He’s fucking sexy. I would let that man give me a rimjob.”
You slump into the chair. Somehow you have a feeling you’re about to undergo the world’s least subtle setup.
Jimin’s eyes nearly roll into the back of his skull. Slowly, he angles his body to see who his boyfriend is talking about. “He can’t possibly be that hot—oh my god. Oh my god.”
“What?” you and Yunjin say in unison. If you had to guess, based on Jimin’s track record and the specific tone of that ‘oh my god,’ he’s either spotted a celebrity, a firefighter in uniform, or someone from his legendary whore phase. And given that you’re at a nightclub, you're betting on option three. Jimin’s whore phase is the stuff of legend—a six-month period during sophomore year where he worked his way through half of Seoul's gay club scene. He doesn't talk about it often, mostly because Taehyung gets a very specific look on his face when it comes up, but every once in a while someone from that era will resurface and Jimin will make that exact noise.
“Who is it?” you press on, heart thumping in excitement.
Jimin’s blonde hair sways as he turns to look back at you. “Okay, don’t panic.”
Furrowing your brows, you start, “Don’t—”
“That’s Jungkook, you idiots. The fucking guy from [Y/N]’s high school we’ve been talking about,” he says in a hushed tone, punching Taehyung’s shoulder.
There’s a warm feeling hugging your chest, your body feeling as though it’s been lit on fire. It might be the alcohol, or the sheer joke of it all. Out of all the scenarios you’ve conjured up in your daydreams, this wasn’t one of them.
You turn your body to track where your friend’s eyes were just a minute ago. Even though Jimin already confirmed it, there’s a tiny part of you hoping his eyes deceive him. But there he is, Jeon Jungkook, in the flesh, talking to one of his equally attractive friends. He’s wearing all black—black t-shirt that sculpts his biceps, black baggy jeans that sit tightly on his slim waist. His hair is ruffled, hoop earrings dangling from the holes in his ear. And really, the most sickening part of it all: he has two lip rings instead of the usual one. You’re gonna be sick.
“Earth to [Y/N]...” Yunjin waves a shot in front of your face, and without preamble, you take it from her, swallowing it in one easy sip. The alcohol travels down your throat, but you barely feel the burn.
“You good?” Taehyung raises an eyebrow.
“Just peachy,” you lie. You smile at your friends, but they don’t seem convinced.
Jimin guffaws, leaning back in his chair with an evil grin. “Is that why you just downed another shot?”
“I’m thirsty.”
“For alcohol or for Jungkook?” Yunjin bursts into a fit of giggles, high-fiving Jimin across the table.
Groaning, you let your head fall into your hands. “I hope all of you die a slow and painful death.”
“He’s gotten even hotter since the last time I saw him,” Jimin notes, sipping his untouched margarita. “How is that possible?”
“Can we please talk about anything else?” You reach for the soju bottle, pouring the last of the clear liquid into your glass. Your second in thirty seconds. A new personal record.
“We will do no such thing,” Jimin’s eyes are gleaming with elation. “You need to go talk to him.”
You nearly choke on the liquor. “I’m sorry, what?”
“Go. Talk. To. Him.” Jimin enunciates each word like you’re a toddler.
“Are you insane?” you deadpan. “Like, actually stupid? Have you suffered a brain injury I don’t know about?”
Both Jimin and Taehyung share another unspoken look. “I’m trying to help you.”
“But I don’t want help—”
“[Y/N].” Jimin doesn’t often get very serious, but the expression on his face makes you squirm. “I’m not letting you fuck this up.”
“I;m not fucking anything up by staying exactly where I am.” You cross your arms over your chest. Realistically, you know he’s right. If you were more drunk, maybe you would bite the bullet, march over there, and plant a kiss right on those lips you haven’t stopped thinking about. But you’re not, so at the table you will stay.
“This is fate. This is the universe putting him a few feet away.” Jimin gestures vaguely at Jungkook.
“The universe can fuck off, honestly.”
He sighs, “I’m doing this for your own good.”
And before you can process his movements, a lag in your brain, Jimin turns in his seat, arm raising in a wave, mouth opening to call out his name.
“No!” You lunge across the table, knocking over Taehyung’s drink, causing him to groan. You latch onto Jimin’s arm, yanking it down forcefully. “Don’t you fucking dare, Park Jimin—”
It’s too late.
Because in your desperate scramble to stop Jimin from committing social suicide on your behalf, you've made a scene. Swiveling your head slowly, you see Jungkook staring directly at you.
His eyebrows are raised, a hint of a smirk playing upon his lips. His tattooed fingers toy with the straw in his drink. It feels as though time drags on for hours, as if the hands of a clock are being lugged through molasses.
You slowly extract yourself from on top of the table, slinking into your chair with as much dignity as you can muster. Your hand comes up in the world’s most awkward, tentative wave. The tiniest flutter of your fingers.
Jungkook’s lips stretch wider, raising his hand in return. It’s a proper wave, filled with that newfound confidence of his. Then he turns back to his friend, resuming their conversation. It’s not like you expected him to drop everything for you—or well, you kind of did. You exhale a deep breath. “Oh my god.” You slump in your chair. “That was horrible.”
“That was… bad,” Jimin tiptoes around the word, twiddling his thumbs.
“I’m going to have to fake my death and move to a different country—”
“Stop being a drama queen,” Yunjin cuts in, sliding a shot towards you. You don’t even know or care where it spawned from, but all you know is you need it. “He waved back. He probably thought it was cute.”
Sighing, you shake your head. “There is nothing cute about what just happened.” You down the shot, and you’ve completely lost count at this point of how many you’ve ingested.
“Okay, new plan,” you announce, slamming the glass down. “None of that happened. We enjoy Yunjin’s birthday. We do not make eye contact with Jungkook, we do not speak about Jungkook.”
“Yeah, about that,” Jimin trails off, eyes glued to somewhere behind your shoulder. “It’s too late.”
“Too late for what?”
“He’s coming over here.”
Your entire body halts all movement, rigid like a statue. “What?”
“He’s coming here. Right now,” Taehyung repeats, and your heart drops to your feet. A hornet’s nest of anxiety swarms your stomach, filling your body with buzzing fear.
You shake your head frantically. “Please say you’re messing with me.”
Yunjin turns to see where Jimin and Taehyung are staring, and the moment she touches your arm, you realize you’re trapped. There’s no way out but through.
“[Y/N]. It’s nice to see you here.”
His voice is deeper, a low timbre that makes your brain go all fuzzy around the edges. He stands in front of the table, and you peer through your eyelashes to look up at him.
Fuck. Fuck, he looks even better up close.
The two lip rings catch the light of the disco ball. A silver chain dangles from around his neck and you briefly wonder what it’ll look like hanging over you while he pounds into…God, get a grip. You can catch a whiff of his cologne, something citrusy and woodsy that causes a pool of arousal in your underwear.
“Hi,” you manage a smile, struggling to hold the intense gaze he’s sporting.
He breaks it for a moment, turning to your best friend, nodding. “Jimin, good to see you again.”
“You too, Kook. You should join us!” He scooches closer to Taehyung, patting the minimal space beside him. Jungkook stares at it, then looks back at you with a hunger in his eyes that almost has you keeling over.
“Actually,” Jungkook begins, “I was hoping I could steal [Y/N] for a drink. If that’s okay with you all?”
He wants to... what? Steal you? For a drink? Alone? You turn to Yunjin, eyes pleading. Help me. Save me. Make up an excuse. But she was never going to let you escape where he’s involved. She looks you dead in the eye, smiles sweetly, and says, “No, she’s all yours.”
You’re going to remember this. You’re going to bring this up at every possible opportunity for the rest of her natural life.
Jungkook’s hand extends towards you, palm up, awaiting yours. For a brief second, you stare at it, at his long fingers, at the veins running down his forearm, at the silver rings stacked on his nimble fingers. The hand that's now being offered to you, in public, in front of all your friends.
You can either take his hand and let whatever this is happen, or you can make up some excuse and run away for the fourth time.
Your heart starts cartwheeling in your chest. You can’t look away from his hand, the one you desperately want to take. Jungkook watches patiently, confidently, like he knows just what you’re deciding between.
Fuck it.
You place your hand in his, let your fingers intertwine with his warm ones. It’s secure, and his fingers tighten around yours as if to remind you he has you. Jungkook pulls you to your feet gently. He doesn’t let go as he guides you through the crowd toward the bar, and you’re trying very hard not to think about how right it feels, how you never want him to let you go.
He parks you at the bartop, where a woman who looks like she’d rather be anywhere else is serving alcohol to a group of minors. Jungkook pats the stool beside him, and you’re more than grateful to take the chair. Your heels have been hurting like a bitch all night. When you sink into the chair, his eyes follow the way your dress hugs your thighs, revealing more skin than your old cheer uniforms. You debate tugging it down, but a warm feeling is flooding your insides at the thought of him wanting to see more of you. He towers above you, his AMEX hanging loosely from his deft fingers.
“What do you like to drink?” He leans down, whispers it directly in your ear. The heat of his breath makes your entire body feel like molten lava.
The bartender begins to make her way over, eyes gleaming when she spots Jungkook. If you were less tipsy, you might come up with a witty response, but your current state only allows you to say, “A dirty shirley, please.”
He doesn’t make a face at the girly drink, nor bats an eyelash when the bartender touches his arm four times while he recites his order. You can only watch in awe as he hands over his card and turns his attention back to you, body angling toward you as if to shield you from every other patron who might be able to see you. The slight possessiveness he’s exhibiting would normally make you hurl, but he’s so unapologetic about it that you could care less. You hope he puts his mark on you so no man will ever speak to you again.
Jungkook fiddles with his fingers on the counter, unsure where to put them. The only glimpse of high school Jungkook you’ve seen in days. His hand hovers near your thigh, then his jeans pocket, then back to the counter. For all his cockiness over text and possessiveness, still lies a man who’s intimidated by the thought of truly having you.
The soju in your body hums through your veins, making everything feel hazy and like a really good idea. Liquid courage, Yunjin calls it. Liquid stupidity, sounds more precise.
But right now… you’re thinking liquid courage might be onto something.
Because he’s standing so close you can smell his cologne, something that smells like grapefruit and lemon. Because he angled his body to block out the rest of the bar like you’re the only person here. Because his hand is right there, inches from you, and looks like he wants to touch you so badly it’s causing him physical pain.
And you’re tipsy enough to think: yeah, liquid courage is real.
Before the sober, anxious part of your brain can intervene with a thousand reasons why this is a horrible idea, you reach out. Your fingers wrap around his wrist, and his eyes snap to yours, surprise written across his features.
You don’t utter a word, just simply guide his hand until his palm settles at the small of your back. Every place where his skin connects with yours seems to tingle.
“Is this okay?” he asks, voice low and chest rumbling with the sound. Again, his mouth is right by your ear, and you can’t think, can’t breathe, can't hear anything but him.
“Would I have moved it there if I wasn’t?”
His thumb strokes once against your side. “Just making sure.”
“I’m tipsy, not drunk,” you clarify, only because you need him to know this is a choice. This is something you tried to talk yourself out of over and over again, but you want this. Liquid courage is making you brave enough to admit out loud what you only ever thought to yourself sober. “I know what I’m doing.”
“And what are you doing?” His breath hits your cheek, the side of your mouth, and it’s laced with peppermint and whiskey, and you’re dizzy with need.
“Giving you the green light,” you say, tilting your head to meet his gaze. His eyes are hooded, trained on your lips that are coated in shiny gloss. “That okay with you?”
His hand tightens on your waist, pulling you incrementally closer. He doesn’t need to say anything.
“Very okay,” he murmurs into your hair.
The bartender returns with your drinks, but Jungkook doesn’t move his hand. He takes your dirty shirley with his free hand, passing it off to you. His grip becomes more secure, more selfish, like now that you’ve given him permission, he’s never planning on letting go.
Good, you think. You don’t want him to.
Jungkook’s hand wraps around the glass of whiskey, taking a slow sip. “Seems like fate was on my side tonight.”
You take a gulp of your dirty shirley, the sweetness coating your tongue. “I’m starting to think you might be stalking me.”
His eyebrows raise, a tiny upward twitch in his mouth. “How do I know you’re not stalking me?”
“Oh, you would know.”
“Really?” He leans in, brown eyes sparking like pools of chocolate. “And how’s that?”
“Because I’d be better at it,” you proclaim, emboldened by the alcohol. “You wouldn’t catch me three times in two weeks. I’d have a whole system. Disguises, a wig collection..”
He laughs loudly. You notice that his dimples pop when he does so, eyes crinkling. “A wig collection.”
“At minimum. Maybe some fake glasses and a trench coat.”
“Clearly, you’ve thought about this,” he hums.
You raise your hands in defense. “I’m just saying, if I were stalking you, you’d never know it unless I wanted you to know.”
“Should I be concerned?” he questions, but he’s grinning.
“Depends,” you tilt your head. “Are you worth stalking?”
His fingers spread across the expanse of your spine. “I’d like to think so.”
“Confident.” Another sip of your dirty shirley snakes down your throat, your lips toying with the straw as you peer up at him.
His gaze never leaves yours. “Besides, you’re the one who guided my hand to your back. If anyone's being forward here…”
That almost makes you choke on your sugary drink. “I was just—”
“Giving me the green light,” he finishes. “I remember. Trust me, I remember.”
Your mind stumbles, then short-circuits.
You resort to drinking more alcohol, needing something to do with your hands that’s not touching him. “This is crazy, right? Us, here?”
“Crazy how?”
“You know how. I mean, ten years ago, I was copying your chemistry homework, and now you’re so… you’re…”
There’s not a single English word that properly describes what present day Jeon Jungkook does to you, with his tattoos and lip rings and expensive cologne and platinum credit card and… fuck.
“I’m what?” He leans closer, waiting, expecting.
“This.” you say helplessly. “All of this.”
“Is there something wrong with.” he uses his free hand to motion over his toned body, “this?”
“No. Nothing. That’s the problem.” It slips out before you can stop it. “It would be easier if something was wrong with it.”
The hand not looped around your waist moves from the bartop to your dress, fingers finding the hem where it’s ridden up on your thigh. He plays with the fabric absentmindedly, rolling it between the pads of his fingers. “If no one’s told you, by the way,” he mutters just loud enough for you to hear him over the music, “this dress looks insane on you.”
The wind is knocked out of your chest, a jolt of electricity flashing through your core. “No one’s told me yet. You’re the first.”
His eyes drag up from where his fingers are flirting with your dress, traveling up your body until they meet yours. “You look fucking gorgeous,” he says. “There. Now I'm the second to say it.”
It’s hard to breathe, hard to swallow. Even harder to find words, or form a coherent sentence.
“You—I—you can’t—”
“Can’t..?” His hands don’t dare move from your dress, knuckles occasionally brushing against your thigh. “Can’t tell you the truth?”
“You know what you’re doing, Jungkook.”
“I do,” he agrees. “Is it working?”
You want to lie. Want to play it cool. Want to maintain some semblance of the upper hand.
But your downfall was inevitable, right from the moment you saw him standing in the cafe. Like a champagne bottle that someone shook a little too hard, a balloon pressed against a thumbtack. It was always meant to explode.
“Yes,” you admit.
“Good.” Both of his hands move to grip the side of your barstool. In one smooth movement, he turns you to face him completely. His legs spread, creating space, and he guides the stool forward with his toe until your thighs slot between his. He’s caging you in, hands landing atop your thighs, palms warm against your bare skin.
You’re practically pressed against him, his face level with yours, “Is this okay?” he asks again, fingers digging into the flesh.
Suddenly, it’s like you’re painfully aware of all the places where he isn’t touching you. Your faces, your chests. You want more, need more.
“Stop asking me that,” you mumble, looking away, but he guides your gaze back with a finger under your chin.
“I need to know, princess.” His tone is serious, but you want to smile from the pet name. “Tell me if it’s too much.”
“It’s not,” you whisper. “It’s not too much.”
“No?”
“No.”
His hands slide up your thighs, hiding underneath the fabric, pushing a boundary that hasn't been tested in a long time. “What about now?’
You’re going to combust. Right here, in the middle of Sinkhole, surrounded by people, you're going to burst into flames.
“Still okay,” you exhale.
For one exhilarating second, his eyes drop to your lips, and you think you’ll get what you’ve been seeing in your dreams the past few nights. You need to get out of here. Away from the crowd, away from the noise, somewhere you can actually hear yourself think—or not think. Preferably not think.
“Do you want to…” you start, then hesitate. The words die on your tongue.
He cocks his head, hair flopping into his eyes. “Do I want to…”
Your heartbeat reverberates in your throat. “Talk somewhere more private? It’s loud here.”
His composure shifts, and you watch the realization hit him. What you're suggesting. What that implies.
“Private,” he repeats. “To talk.”
“Yes.”
“About?”
You deadpan, brain racking for a subject, any subject. “Stuff,” is what you come up with.
A dry laugh escapes him. “And maybe things as well?”
You pout. “Important stuff.”
“I’m sure.” His smile is lopsided, goofy and full of light. He pulls you up from the barstool until your feet touch the ground again. His hand finds your fingers, easily lacing them. “Whatever you want, princess.”
Where the fuck did that come from? When did he become the type of person to use pet names? And why is it working? Why is that single word making your entire nervous system light up like a Christmas tree?
Tugging you through the crowd, he peers behind him every few seconds to make sure you haven’t floated away. His hand is firm around yours, guiding you through the mass of bodies, and you try and catch a glimpse of any of your friends.
Unfortunately, you do spot Jimin and Taehyung, pressed against a wall, entranced in a makeout session so intense that they’re definitely not coming up for air soon. At least you won’t have to explain to them where you went. Yunjin is nowhere to be found, probably on the dance floor or already home with one of her many flings.
Jungkook pulls you through another section of the crowd, leading you down a side hallway that’s mercifully empty. The music is muffled, bass still thumping through the walls but not deafening anymore. You lean back against the cold concrete, the chill a shock against your overheated skin. The wall vibrates with each bass drop, humming in your chest.
Jungkook stops in front of you, and you have to tilt your head back to see his face. “What did you want to talk about?”
Your mind shoots blanks. In this dim hallway, you’ve become aware of how completely the tables have turned. Ten years ago, you held all the cards. You were the girl who made him nervous, who had him stumbling over words, who could get him to do anything with a smile and a flutter of your eyelashes. But now you’re the one who’s heart is racing, who feels like you might explode from a single touch. He has the upper hand, utterly, entirely. And you handed it to him willingly. Put his hand on your waist, guided him here, and now you’re putty in his hands and he knows it.
“You make me nervous,” you blurt out.
The silence that engulfs you feels like punishment. Your mouth goes dry, palms sweating under the guise of his stare.
He takes a step closer. There’s little to no space between you. “That’s interesting.”
“Why is that interesting?” Your back is pressed against the wall. Nowhere to go.
“You used to make me nervous,” he says, bracing his hand on the wall. His bicep strains and you have to fight the urge to ogle at them. “For years.”
“That was different, Jungkook.”
“Was it?” He studies you. “In what way?”
“Well, because now you’re you, and I’m—“
“I’m me?” His eyebrows raise an inch, lips curling upwards in a smirk. “What does that mean?”
Why did you drink so much alcohol? Why, why, why? Maybe if you hadn’t, your lips wouldn’t be so goddamn loose. Your filter would still be in tact. You wouldn’t be staring at him like you want to devour him whole.
You peer up at him, eyelashes fluttering. His cheeks are flushed from the amount of drinks he’s consumed, and he’s close enough that you can see the moles that litter his face. The one under his lip. The one on his nose. You want to kiss each and every single one of them. Map them out with your lips until you have them memorized.
You give up on any pretense of playing it cool. “You know you’re hot, Jungkook.”
“Do I know?” The smirk on his face grows tenfold, and god, you want to kiss it off him. “You’ve never told me this before.”
“High school was different.”
“You’ve said that a lot, but it’s actually not that different,” he murmurs.
“Hm?”
His gaze drops to your lips for the hundredth time tonight. “Because I’m still so fucking unbelievably, out of my mind, attracted to you.”
Your brain struggles to process it—that he’s felt this way for years. That it never went away. That all the confidence and cockiness is built on top of the same desire that made teenage Jungkook stutter around you.
“You’re just saying things,” you whisper. But you’ve known. You’ve always known.
His hand falls from the wall to cup your jaw. “You think I begged Jimin for your number because I was just being polite? You think I showed up at three different cafes hoping fate would bring us together because I’m casual about this?”
“But you said that cafe was your regular spot—”
He fights to hide the smile creeping onto his face. “I’ve wanted you since I was a teenager.” His thumb brushes across your cheekbone. “Somehow, impossibly, I want you even more now.”
Your heart is trying to break out of the confines of your ribcage. “Jungkook.”
His forehead is almost touching yours. “What’s different is that now I’m not terrified to tell you.”
You don’t know what else to say to him, so you smile as brightly as you can, letting your happiness live on your face.
“How many drinks have you had tonight?” he asks.
You scrunch your brows together. “A lot of soju. That dirty shirley. Why?”
Bluntly, he says, “Because I want to kiss you. But not if you’re too drunk to remember it tomorrow.”
You squeak, back slightly arching off the wall. You’ve never wanted anything more, never ached to feel someone the way you do him. Heat travels through your veins, burning you to your core.
“I told you, I’m tipsy,” you rush to protest. “I’ll remember this tomorrow.”
It should be embarrassing how quickly you reassure him, how the words tumble out of your mouth.
His forehead presses against yours, and it’s a miracle you don’t dissolve into a puddle. “Then can I—”
“Yes,” you interrupt. If he doesn’t kiss you in the next five seconds, you might actually die.
“I didn’t finish the question.” His lips ghost over yours, a gentle taste of what you yearn for.
“I don’t care what the question is,” you exhale. “The answer is yes.”
And then his lips are on yours.
Never in your high school years did you imagine how Jeon Jungkook kissed. Never thought about how his lips would feel against your own. Never cared to think about it.
This past week, however, you’ve spent more time imagining this exact scenario than you’ve spent breathing. But reality is superior to whatever your brain could conjure up. Your imagination could never describe Jungkook’s demanding kiss, or the way his lips melt into yours with utmost certainty. His hand slides from your jaw to your cheek, cradling it. The other hand finds your waist, pulling you flush against him.
A mix of a gasp and a moan falls from your lips, and he swallows it wholly. Your fists find his shirt, tugging on the fabric, pulling him closer even though there’s no space between you. His lip rings are cold against your mouth, a contrast to the heat of his lips and the heat between your thighs. Parting your lips, his tongue sweeps in, tastes just like you smelled earlier—whiskey and peppermint. Your lip gloss is definitely everywhere at this point—on him, on you, probably on the wall behind you—but you couldn’t care less.
His strong hand travels from your cheek down, down, fingers wrapping loosely around your throat. Claiming, holding. The possessiveness of the gesture sends heat pooling low into your stomach. Jungkook’s thumb presses into your pulse point, feeling how your heart is racing.
And when you do finally pull away, your heart is still going berzerk. His lips are shiny with your gloss, pink and swollen and thoroughly kissed. You can't help but giggle at the sight.
“What?” he asks, breathless. The tips of his ears are tickled pink.
“You’re wearing my lip gloss,” you giggle again, reaching up to wipe it with your thumb. But he doesn’t let you get far, catches your wrist and presses a kiss right where your flowery perfume is sprayed. He takes a deep inhale and smiles back at you like you hung the moon and stars. Your heart is pumping so wildly you’re worried it might actually burst out of your chest.
Then his lips are on your neck, trailing down to your exposed collarbone, finding every sensitive spot with ease like he already knows you, like he holds the map to your body. He holds you tight to him, grounding—and thank god because your legs are shaking so badly that you're not sure you could stand without him holding you up.
“Jungkook,” you gasp, and he hums against your skin. His mouth finds your jaw, pressing open-mouthed kisses, and you’re pretty sure you’re going to pass out. Your fingers thread through his unruly dark brown locks, tugging slightly at the nape.
And you can’t really help the intrusive thoughts that leap in your mind, the tidal wave of desire that keeps lapping at your core. He’s insatiable, and you feel gluttonous. “Do you wanna—” you start, but his teeth graze your pulse point and your brain turns to mush. “maybe—ahh—go to mine?”
He halts, pulls back enough to look at you. “Is that what you want?” His voice is strained, the thread of self-control growing weaker and weaker.
Your brain is fuzzy from alcohol and kissing and the feeling of his hands on your waist, but you know what you're saying. You know what you're offering. You’re done fighting whatever decade-old guilt lives inside you, because you deserve him. Maybe you’re finally ready to accept it. To trust that you’ve grown, that you’re growing, that you’re not done growing and thats okay. You deserve all the good that Jeon Jungkook has to offer. “Yes,” you breathe, “I want—I want you.”
His eyes search for hesitation. “You’ve been drinking, and I don't want you to feel like you need to—”
“I’m sure.” Cupping his face in your hands, you cut his sentence in half. Don’t even let it slip between you. “I know what I want.”
Somehow, his eyes have gone darker, fingers tightening for purchase. “Say it again,” he murmurs.
“I want you, Jungkook.” Your thumb brushes against his bottom lip, catching on his lip rings. “Take me home.”
“Fucking hell,” he practically moans, and then his lips are on you again with an urgency that wasn’t there before. “We should probably tell your friends we’re leaving.”
“Jimin’s busy.” If you had to guess, he’s on his knees at home, getting topped by Kim Taehyung. “And Yunjin will understand. Your friends?”
“They know who you are.”
A swarm of butterflies kick up in your stomach.
You tug on his shirt. “Now can we please go before I lose my mind?”
His answer to that is another quick kiss—but still thorough, because who is he if not a man starved—and he pulls you through the hallway, back into the club, into the thick of the chaos still lingering this late in the night. You hardly register any of it. The lights, the bass of the music, the bodies pressing against you as you squeeze by. None of it matters.
You feel like you’re floating, like your feet are moving but you can’t feel the ground, like you’re walking on clouds. His hand is wrapped around yours, pulling you forward, and you’d follow him anywhere right now. To the ends of the earth. Off a cliff.
Once the crisp night air hits your skin, Jungkook is already scanning the street, hand raised to hail a taxi. One pulls up within seconds—it’s got to be fate, or the universe supporting your agenda to get laid—and he opens the door, ushering you inside with a hand on the small of your back.
Jungkook shuts the door forcefully, immediately snuggling into your side, leaving little to no room for you to create space between you two. Not that you wanted to, but you want to giggle at how utterly fearful he seems of distance from you.
“Where to?” the driver asks, eyeing Jungkook in the rearview.
You rattle off your address, and the cab pulls off into traffic. Seoul at this hour is never quiet—in fact, it’s usually more lively, since clubs stay open until the wee hours of the morning. But all you can really focus on is Jungkook beside you, his thigh pressed against yours in the cramped backseat. His fingers lace through yours. An innocent, sweet gesture, a complete contrast from what was happening ten minutes ago against that hallway wall.
You look down at your intertwined hands—his so much larger than yours, rings cool against your skin. A smile bestows upon your lips. When you glance up at him, he’s staring at you with this fond expression that makes your heart stutter.
“What?” you ask, giddy.
“Nothing,” he replies, but the smile on his face doesn’t disappear. “I just can’t believe this is happening.”
“Me neither,” you admit sheepishly.
His hand reaches over, tugging the hem of your dress down where it’s ridden up your thigh. The action would be chivalrous, if not for the way his fingers linger, if not for the way his jaw clenches, if not for the way his fond expression darkens into something sinister.
“You need to stop moving,” he says, a deep exhale following his words.
You roll your eyes. “I’m not even moving.”
“Your… dress is moving.” His hand remains on your thigh, holding the fabric down. “I can’t hold it together if this dress rides up any more.”
“Oh.”
He shifts in his jeans, clearly uncomfortable. You have to fight not to avert your eyes to his crotch.
“Do you know how long it’ll take to get to her apartment?” Jungkook asks the driver. You snort loudly.
He shrugs. Clearly, the man has never shared Jungkook’s predicament, because he looks unbothered by the urgency in his voice. “About twenty minutes.”
Jungkook groans, leaning back into the seat, closing his eyes for a second. When he opens them again and catches your gaze, he has to close them to calm his friend down there. And it does make you giggle again, but what you want more than anything is to feel him. For him to give you a part of him that you didn’t know you needed until now.
You whisper in his ear. “I don’t want you to hold it together.”
His eyes fly open, and you watch his Adam’s apple bob up and down. “Don’t tempt me right now, [Y/N].”
“Why not?” And you pull out your tricks—you bat your eyelashes, tilt your head down, lick your lips to wet them. His face grows pale.
“Because we’re in a cab,” he murmurs, staring at your lips. “And I’m trying to be respectful.”
“Maybe I want you to disrespect me right now.”
The words are barely out of your mouth before he's kissing you again. His hand leaves your dress to cup your face, angling your head so he can kiss you deeper.
The cab driver clears his throat. You both ignore him, too hypnotized by the other to think about stopping. He pulls you as close as he can, and a frustrated noise escapes from your lips. There’s too many layers, too much distance, and he smiles knowingly against your lips.
He seems to know just what you need.
Jungkook’s large hand lands on your knee, caressing the supple skin.
“You know how to be quiet, baby?”
You nod meekly.
His voice brushes against the shell of your ear, hand traveling up your thigh to mask itself under the fabric of your dress. “Good girl. Spread your legs for me.”
Eyes widening, you stare up at him blankly. There is no way on this planet, Jeon Jungkook, the man who you were sure—up until now—never had his first kiss, is about to finger you in a taxi. But his hand moving near your lace panties says otherwise. You jolt forward at the feeling of his deft fingers swiping at the fabric as discreetly as possible. You gasp, and he tosses you a look before you slap your hand over your mouth. Luckily, the taxi driver seems more focused on the fastest route to your apartment than whatever debauchery is occurring in his backseat. It’s also dark in the car, impossible for the naked eye to see Jungkook’s movements.
He presses against the wet spot on your underwear, and heat creeps up your neck at the realization of just how turned on he’s had you since the hallway. Maybe even before then, if you’re being honest. He smiles at the revelation.
Your nails dig into the leather seat of the cab. Jungkook’s tattooed fingers push aside your underwear, his pointer finger collecting the arousal. A whimper escapes you, and when you look at him, the look on his face sends another round of wetness dripping down his finger. “God, baby, you’re so fucking wet,” he whispers into your ear, letting two fingers ghost over your clit, gently pushing the bundle of nerves. “Didn’t know public sex turned you on so much.”
You bite back a moan. The teasing pace he’s set over your clit would be fun, if you had a constant stream of sexual endeavors, but unfortunately, you’re as desperate as a raccoon sifting through trash. Gripping onto his wrist, you push him onto you fiercely. “Needy, aren’t we?” he mutters.
All you can reply with is a quick nod. He chuckles softly, rubbing circles on your clit with the pad of his pointer and middle finger. Your head falls back on the headrest, eyes squeezed tight, tight, tight as you try to calculate how he found your clit so fast. It’s so wet, dripping onto the seat, his hands, that you could cum just from the stimulation of it all.
“What do you want, princess? Hm?” Somehow, it sounds like he’s far away from you, like you’re caught on your own cloud of bliss. You want to ask for more, need more like it’s oxygen. His rhythm slows just a tad, enough to have your eyes flying open. “I asked you a question.”
Oh. Oh. So he’s that kind of guy.
“I want—I want your fingers,” you whisper feebly.
“Yeah? Where, princess? I’ll give you whatever you want.” he kisses your shoulder, your jaw, and it makes your brain fuzzy around the edges.
The tantalizing pace he’s set on your clit makes it hard to speak. “W-want you to fuck me with them.”
His lips curl upwards, eyes blazing. “You like my fingers?” Another nod. He removes his fingers from your clit, slipping back out underneath your dress. You’re about to protest, maybe even kick him out of the car, until you watch him make direct eye contact with you, and place his fingers in his mouth, letting his tongue swirl around the digits. You blink. What the actual fuck have you gotten yourself into?
“Please, Jungkook,” you beg, your nails scrambling to dig in his clothed thigh. He chastises you, laughs at you, before slithering under your dress again, plunging his fingers directly into your sopping entrance. You gasp, loud enough to make the driver look in the rearview, but you bite your bottom lip before any more can escape. “I know you can take it. If you can take that douchebag Kim Mingyu, you can handle me. Although, after I’m done with you, my name might be the only name you moan for the rest of your life.”
You should hate that. You really, really should. But clearly, your dignity has taken the night off, and in its place is a woman who is so endeared over being degraded by Jeon Jungkook.
His fingers pump in and out, achingly slow, making you feel every inch. You’re gripping his thigh so tightly you swear there’ll be claw marks. Your head rests on the back of your seat, chest heaving. If not for the sound of traffic outside, the driver might be able to hear the way your pussy squelches with each movement.
Jungkook’s lips press against your jaw, litter around your neck. “More,” you mumble, sounding drunker than you did in the club.
“God, you’re so fucking wet. I can’t wait to be inside you. Gonna fuck you all night.” Lewd words continue to spill from his lips. Sending waves of arousal onto his fingers, more for him to play with as he picks up his pace. He curls his fingers upwards, reaching that sensitive spot that far and few men have ever found. Your body trembles, thighs shaking, and Jungkook’s hand lands on them to try and steady you.
His thumb finds your clit, rubbing sloppy circles as he brings you to the brink of your orgasm. Your eyes fight to stay open, looking over at Jungkook—and holy hell. His arm veins are popping out, mostly from the amount of effort he’s putting into fucking into you to completion, his dark hair flopping over his face. His silver chain bounces off his chest, reflecting on the city lights outside.
And you don’t even realize how quickly you’re about to cum, tears brimming your eyes from the way his fingers pump in and out you wildly, thumb matching his pace over your clit. “So tight around my fingers, princess. You gonna cum?”
There’s no way you can be quiet about this. Not with how fucking good he looks, not with how easily his fingers slip in and out you, hitting your sweet spot. You bury your head in his neck, moaning into his warm skin, trying to muffle the sound as much as possible. “Fuck, Jungkook.”
“Want you to cum on my fingers, princess. Can you do that for me?” You nod into his neck.
Your walls clench around his fingers one last time, to the point where he can hardly move them, his thumb working you through the orgasm that ripples through your body. Your fingers claw at his arm, teeth biting at his neck. You can feel yourself lose control, heart beating erratically in your chest.
Jungkook’s fingers halt inside you, thumb coaxing you through the rest of your orgasm. “It’s okay, princess. I’ve got you.”
Your body completely slumps into him, still feeling full with his two fingers inside you.
Finally, after he allows you a moment to catch your breath, he pulls them out of your pussy, soaked with your creamy arousal. “Open,” he says gently, but when you look up at him, his gaze is hardly sympathetic. Your lips part for him, and he places his fingers on your tongue. You swirl it around, tasting yourself, sweet and salty and warm, foreign to you. Jungkook’s eyes never leave yours.
“Good job, baby,” he says as he removes his fingers, pressing one, two chaste kisses on your lips.
All things considered, you’re in absolute shock. Somewhere between high school and now, Jeon Jungkook learned how to kiss like he’s trying to ruin you for all other men. Where did he learn all this? Who taught him to do that thing with his fingers? How does he know exactly where to put his hands, exactly how much pressure to use to make you lose your mind?
The thought of him practicing on other people—other girls—makes something ugly twist in your stomach.
You’re an evil, evil girl. “Where’d you learn all that?”
He raises an eyebrow, tucking a strand of your loose hair behind your ear. “Are you asking about my sexual history now?”
“No.”
“You are,” he teases. “You’re not jealous, right?”
If only he knew how ill you felt at the idea of another girl knowing how his fingers can easily find their g-spot.
“I am not jealous.” You feign indifference, but your voice comes out all defensive and petulant, which kind of ruins it all. “Just asking a question.”
“You want to know who I've been with?” he asks, clearly trying not to laugh.
“Never said that.”
He presses another soft kiss against your lips. “There’s been other people. I’m not going to lie about that. But that’s not a big deal.”
You furrow your brows. “Why?”
His thumb traces circles on your thigh. “Because I thought about you during all of it. I wondered what you’d feel like, wondered what sounds you would make. So, yeah,” he continues. “I learned some things. But I only ever wanted to use them on you.”
You kiss him again because you don’t know what else to do with the feeling expanding in your chest. Because he’s looking at you like that and saying things like that and your heart is fluttering out of your body. God, if that doesn’t make you want to drag him upstairs immediately.
The cab pulls up to your building and Jungkook is already pulling out his wallet, throwing bills at the driver without checking the amount. "Keep the change," he says, and then he's out of the cab, pulling you with him.
Your legs are unsteady when you stand—from the alcohol, from the kissing, from everything—and his arm wraps around your waist, steadying you. “I’m not done with you yet, princess.”
And, really, he’s not joking because he’s on you the second you step through the door to your apartment. Barely even crosses the threshold before his lips are colliding with yours passionately, slamming your spine into the wall by your entryway. His hands cup your cheeks entirely. He can’t get enough of you, like opposite poles of a magnet attracting. Shortly after his affair with the entryway, Jungkook moves a little more down your hallway, but you’re too focused on kissing him to direct him. Your shoes are discarded, purse on the floor, and then your back finds another cool wall to rest against.
Jungkook assaults your neck, leaving a trail of bruises that are going to take a hell of a lot of explaining tomorrow. Your apartment probably sounds like the set of some cheap porno, what with Jungkook’s whimpers and your moans, and neither of you are even naked yet. Your hands run over the front of his chest, feeling his sculpted body underneath his shirt.
“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he murmurs into your collarbone, where he’s leaving hickeys in his wake. His hands wander over your chest, cupping them over your dress. Without another word or warning, he yanks down the top of your dress, your breasts spilling out. You can’t help the gasp that escapes you as he manhandles you, his lips coming to wrap around your hardened nipple. His tongue swipes over the sensitive nub, eyes peering up expectantly, watching every facial expression that contorts on your face.
Your eyes squeeze tightly, a kaleidoscope of color blooming behind your vision. “Jungkook,” you moan, carding your fingers through his unruly hair.
Without preamble, Jungkook kisses your nipples one last time before dropping to his knees on your hardwood floor with a resounding thump.
You open your eyes. The sight in front of you is fucking ungodly. If you look closely, you can see Jungkook from high school, expectantly looking up at you with puppy dog eyes, pushing your dress up to hang around your waist.
“W-what are you doing?’ you ask.
He looks drunk. “Need to eat you out. I want to taste you, princess.”
You don’t remember the last time a man has looked so needy to feel you, to taste you. Actually, you can’t remember a time this even occurred.
You exhale. “Yes. Yes, please.”
That’s all he really needs. Jungkook doesn’t waste a moment more in burying his face between your folds as though it’s his last meal on earth. His fingers come to spread your lips open for him as he flicks his tongue over your nub, sending you bent over as you scramble for purchase in his hair, his shoulders, anything. “Oh, fuck, Jungkook, right there.”
He notices your struggle to stand upright, and then he’s guiding your leg over his shoulder, toes dangling. He moans into your pussy, a breathy little exhale that sends fire shooting through your veins. Jungkook’s strong arm holds your leg in place over his shoulder. His tongue fucks inside of you shallowly, your eyes rolling backwards. “Tastes so sweet, so fucking heavenly, baby,” he mutters but it barely makes its way into your ears. You can feel his lip rings swiping over your arousal, the cool metal causing your thighs to quake uncontrollably.
And then you’re just babbling profanities, a mantra of his name, curse words. A litany of praise. Some other embarrassing things you hope he never remembers.
“I feel g-guilty. For the way I treated y-you in high school,” you stammer, quivering against his face as he licks another stripe up your slit.
You don’t know why it’s all coming out now, but it is. God, you were such a bitch in high school. Such an egotistical brat who was too caught in her own ways to ever see that there was more to life than social status and cheerleading.
His tongue encircles your clit, one of your hands flying to his hair to tug. “Don’t feel guilty,” he murmurs. “That’s not what I want you to feel right now. I want to make you feel good.”
His tongue travels from your hole to your clit, and normally the rhythm would throw you off, but he’s so skillful about the whole thing that you’re teetering on the brink of an orgasm. And he must know, must be able to read your body like it’s something he spent years studying, because he’s sucking on your clit, letting his tongue flick over it repeatedly, maintaining a rhythm that has you screaming, “Oh fuck, oh shit, I’m gonna—Jungkook, I’m gonna cum.”
That doesn’t deter him the slightest. Spurs him on like he’s entered in some kind of pussy-eating competition. You’ll spend years talking about this experience, you think.
Your fingers tighten in his hair, tangling, tugging, and your entire body vibrates as your orgasm crashes over you in waves. He fucks you through it, keeps going until you’re pushing him away with your toe forcefully. When he finally gives up, he says from between your legs, “Better than Kim Mingyu?”
Maybe you shouldn’t care about high school anymore, but you can’t help but laugh, smile at him. “He never even ate me out, Koo.”
His face softens— whether that’s because of the nickname you adorned him with or the fact that Mingyu was an asshole, you’ll never know—and he’s standing up, pressing a dirty kiss to your lips. It’s messy, sloppy, tongue over teeth, but so undeniably him that you cling to him like a koala. “He’s the biggest idiot of all time to miss out on that.”
“Hmm,” you hum against his lips. They taste just like you, and it sends another gush of arousal pouring out of you. His hands slide down your sides, gripping your waist, your hips, pulling you impossibly closer. You’re drowning in him—his taste, his smell, the way he’s kissing you like he’s been starving for it. You can feel his length poking against your thigh, and your heart skips at just how large it al;ready feels through his jeans.
Your hands roam down his chest, feeling the firm muscle beneath his shirt, tracing lower until your fingers find his belt. You fumble with the buckle, fingers clumsy with desire. Jungkook looks down at your manicured fingers, easily working, speaking to how much experience you have. His cock throbs at the thought.
You’re about to get on your knees, return the favor, but he stops you as soon as you lower an inch.
Jungkook simply says, “The next time I want you to cum, is going to be on my cock.”
Okay, yes sir. He’s all dominating and commanding and it makes your pussy clench around nothing.
His forehead drops against yours, breath punching out of him. “Fuck, I need to be inside you.”
The metal clinks as his pants drop to the floor, his Calvin Klein boxers doing little to hide how big he is. Jungkook kicks them off, eager to remove as many layers as possible. Your mouth salivates, and you’re positive a sliver of drool is slithering out of your mouth. His hands tighten on your hips, bruising the skin.
You kiss him again, but this time, it’s rougher, faster, hand slipping beneath the waistband of his boxers, and he makes a sound between a groan and a whimper that makes you feel powerful. Your hands roam, searching, until—
Holy shit. You gasp into his mouth, feeling his length. He’s big, no doubt about that. But it’s the fucking girth of it that has your mouth watering. He’s thick, and you can feel the veins that decorate his cock.
Jesus Christ. This is what your Chemistry tutor was hiding under his pants. A fucking anaconda.
But you’re not about to admit that.
No shot in hell.
“Mhmm, I feel like you’re kinda small,” you tease, battling your eyelashes at him as you stroke his hardened length dangerously slow.
His nostrils flare. “Yeah? Think I’m small, baby?”
“Tiny.”
Your thumb drags over his tip, and then you feel it. A piece of metal. Jeon Jungkook has a fucking dick piercing.
His eyes set ablaze as he realizes that you know. “Fucking hell, you’re still the same brat you’ve always been.”
Jungkook’s lips collide with yours, and he kicks off his boxers urgently. “Fuck,” he breathes against your mouth. Suddenly his hands are gripping the backs of your thighs, lifting you up like you weigh nothing. You gasp, legs wrapping around his waist as your back hits the wall harder. The new position puts you at eye level with him, head spinning. He reaches down between your bodies to let his cock sit in between your wet folds, ever so teasing.
Your fingernails dig into the nape of his neck, head lolling back against the wall. “Please fuck me, Koo. Wanna feel you inside me.”
“Oh, now you want to beg? After you called me tiny?” He hisses as he swirls the tip over your clit, the cool metal of his piercing sending shockwaves down your spine.
“Please,” you beg. “Pleasepleaseplease.” It’s slurred when it leaves your mouth, breath catching when you look down and see the way the metal reflects off his soaking tip, encased in your juices. “I need it.”
With that, he pushes into you, all inches of his length, squirming in his arms. You scramble to hold onto something, opting for his biceps that are straining with the weight of holding you up. A moan leaves both of your mouths. He waits until you’re fully adjusted, taking every inch of him. “Feels so good, princess. So tight and warm, holy shit.”
“Jungkook,” you pant. You’re so full of him, he’s everywhere. Stopping is the last thing on your mind. You’re a woman made of greed. “You’re so—fuck—big.”
He smiles triumphantly and takes that as his sign to move. He uses his arms to slide you up and down his cock, slamming you onto him, your clit meeting his pubic bone. The piercing drags against your walls with each thrust, hitting the sweet spot inside you that has you screaming a litany of crude words that’ll have your neighbors knocking your door down tomorrow morning. His head falls to the crook of your shoulder, burying himself in your scent.
It’s more than you’ve ever taken, beyond any sex you’ve ever had in your life. You’re going to be ruined for all other men and you haven’t even made it to the bedroom yet. Your past lovers are about to become a footnote. A distant memory. Ancient fucking history.
The sound of your pussy squelching with each rough thrust fills the room, Jungkook’s hairline beading with sweat as he furiously pounds into you, tits bouncing in his face. He begins to babble, “Used to cum so hard thinking about you, baby. You in that—fuck—cheer uniform, with your nipples hard. I wanted to push it to the side and fuck you.”
You moan at the thought. “Yeah, why didn’t you? I would’ve rode your face with your glasses on.”
He presses a sloppy kiss on the side of your mouth. “Bet you would’ve loved that, huh? Deflowering the nerd?”
The mental image flashes through your mind—seventeen-year-old Jungkook, all awkward limbs and nervous stammering, those thick-framed glasses sliding down his nose while you sat on his face in the library after hours. You would’ve been so mean about it too. Would’ve made him beg, would’ve had him so desperate and eager to please that he would’ve done anything you asked. Would’ve probably given him the best night of his teenage life and then ignored him in the hallway the next day because you were dating Mingyu and had a reputation to maintain.
“I would’ve made you cum—ahh, shit—so hard.” You try your hardest to maintain eye contact, but everytime you do, your walls flutter around his cock. “You would’ve been obsessed.”
“I was already obsessed,” he groans, nipping at your jaw. His balls slap against your ass, adding to the horrific amount of sounds eliciting from your apartment. “It couldn’t have gotten much worse.”
He has a very fair point.
You thread your fingers through his hair, already on the brink of another orgasm. Everything about him—his scent, the way his tattoos glisten with sweat, how his bottom lip is tugged underneath his front teeth—sends your mind into delirium. He’s fucking you with enough force to have your head bouncing off the wall every few thrusts, that you feel it resound along your bones.
“Fuck, I don’t wanna cum yet,” he whimpers into your skin. “But god, I don’t think I’ll be able to last.”
Neither will you, but an idea sparks in your pretty little head. You crook a finger under his jaw, making him look at you. His expression is completely fucked out, lips swollen, cheeks ruddy. His thrusts slow, enough so that he can pay attention to your words. “I want to get on top. Let me fuck you, Jungkook.”
He nods, and then he’s readjusting you in his arms, with you clinging to him like a newborn baby. You giggle as he frantically tries to find your bedroom, pausing every few moments to press a few kisses to your cheeks and lips.
Finally, he locates your room, plopping you down on the bed, and you moan at the sudden emptiness you feel with his cock gone. He tosses his t-shirt over his head.
Jungkook sits up against the headboard, gently stroking his length as he watches you move to bracket his thighs, settling over his tip. “Ready for me, princess?”
Eagerly, you shake your head in approval, and you sink down inch by inch onto his length. For some reason, in this position, it feels like he’s stretching you out more, your walls sucking him in greedily. Your hands come to rest on his beefy chest, nails digging into the skin.
There’s not many things you're good at, but one thing you are insanely talented at? Riding cock like it’s your god given right. Your hips undulate wildly, bouncing up and down to accommodate his full length. Jungkook watches in awe, in a trance, as you cream his cock. His hands come to sit at your hips, guiding you the best he can. His head rests against the headboard, lazily watching as you play with your tits. “Ride my cock,” he groans, “just like that, princess.”
“You stretch me out so good, Jungkook,” you moan, thighs trembling with each movement. He can feel you getting closer to the edge, already riled up from the previous position. Your walls clench around him, sucking him in. His thumb falls to your clit again, finding it so easily after so many rounds. “Right there, baby,” you chant, eyes closed. “Right fucking there.”
“Jesus, I'm so close,” he grunts, beginning to thrust upwards into you as your own pace slows. The sounds are beyond obscene—his cock plunging into your wetness, headboard slamming against the wall. You don’t care about any of it, not one bit, as long he keeps fucking into you.
It was always obvious from the moment he kissed you at the club that neither of you were going to last long, anyway.
“Fuck, I’m cumming,” you practically scream, which would have you embarrassed, but he seems just as ruined as you.
Your orgasm washes over you, legs shaking as your mouth tears open around a sound that might be his name, might be something else entirely. Your walls flutter around him, and Jungkook can’t help himself anymore. “Fuck, baby, I’m gonna cum too. Can I—fuck—can I cum inside?”
You nod like a broken bobblehead. Thank god for modern medicine.
He empties into you, bruising your hips with his hold. He’s so attractive when he finishes that you almost orgasm again from the sight. His bare chest heaves, a slight sheen of sweat layered on the skin.
For a few moments, you two catch your breath, letting his cock soften entirely inside you. He looks worn, eyes drooping.
But after an eternity, you finally roll off him. You’re not sure what you were expecting in terms of aftercare, but your heart flutters when he lazily wraps his arms around you, tugging you into his side to rest your cheek on his chest. It’s comforting, with his hands playing with your hair, his own heart thumping along in his chest. Reminding you that you’re here with him, and this is real.
Silence has never been so peaceful.
You think you’ll fall asleep like this, but then he says, “I want to see you again.”
Your heart softens around the edges, at the notion that he believes you’ll never speak to him again after this. You can’t blame him for it. It’s exactly what high school you would’ve done.
But you’re not 17 anymore, and you deserve all the good he has to offer you. No more silly little games.
“I would really like that,” you whisper back.
He presses a kiss to the top of your head. “Mind checking your calendar for me?”
You grin like a lovesick idiot. “Yup. Checking right now. And it looks like I’m free this whole week.”
“Thursday, then. Dinner at 7,” he confirms. “You’re not going to, like, make me beg for a real answer this time, are you?”
Giggling, you respond, “Maybe I should check that calendar again…”
He sits up, pouting. “Don’t. Don’t you dare,” he warns, and then his hands are moving to tickle your sides.
You squeal, squirming away, but he just pulls you back against him. The laughs that escape you are so full of sunshine that you hardly recognize them. You’ve been living under a fog for so long that when it lifted, you forgot how bright life could be.
“Okay, okay!” you gasp, and his fingers still. “Thursday. 7 o’clock.”
“There we go.” He kisses your forehead. “Was that so hard?”
“Hardest thing I’ve ever done,” you say dramatically, resuming your post, nestled into his side.
“Liar.” His fingers resume playing with your hair. “You like me.”
You feel like a kid in kindergarten, caught passing a note in class with “do you like me? check yes or no” scrawled in messy handwriting. Like you’re on the playground at recess, heart racing because your crush smiled at you across the monkey bars. But it’s got you just as giddy. “I guess I do.”
Jungkook reaches over to pull the blanket over you two. “So what happens now?” you wonder aloud. It’s an innocent question, but somehow loaded with more intent than you realize.
“Now?” he yawns. “Now you let me stay the night. Then tomorrow I’m gonna make you the most fire breakfast of all time. Then Thursday, I’ll take you to the best dinner of your life. And then—”
“There’s more?” Your eyes widen in sarcasm.
“And then I keep taking you out until you realize you’re in love with me too.”
Your heartbeat is quick but steady in your chest. “Pretty confident about that, hm?”
“Extremely so.” Jungkook yawns again, voice getting drowsy. “I’ve got years of romcom knowledge. I’ve read those Tumblr fanfics. You don’t stand a chance.”
He’s probably right. You don’t stand a chance. In fact, you didn’t from the moment he stood in front of you at that cafe.
Before you close your eyes and float off into sleep, you mumble out, “God, when did you get so hot?”
