#jeongguk

[jung-koook]

DOUBLE ATTACK 😩 (cr. @taee)

[ggukiebar]

gun play | j.jk

pairing: police officer jungkook x thief reader

word count: 16.9k

genre: dark smut

summary: trying to steal the gold necklace around his neck, you didn’t realize that the man you were stealing from was a high-ranking police officer.

warnings: officer jungkook x thief reader, explicit sexual content, dead dove, cnc/dub-con, gun play, belt choking, usage of handcuffs, primal play, free use/rape, public sex, heavy degradation, manhandling, daddy, dom jk, clit rubbing, spitting, mock sympathy, condescending dirty talk, cum eating, pussy eating, blow job, usage whore & slut, praising, multiple orgasms, manipulation, rough sex, overstimulation, fingering, cum eating penetrative sex, creampie.

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Desperation has a way of rewriting your morals. It convinces good people to cross lines they once swore they would never touch, somehow making it feel like the only choice left.

"Let's check out the beer house tonight." Hanni said, wiggling her eyebrows as she leaned against the kitchen counter. "I heard it's packed with rich people on Fridays."

Your brows knitted together. "A beer house?"

A knowing smirk tugged at Hanni's lips. She swept her dark hair into a messy bun before pulling out the chair beside the table, giving the seat a light tap as she gestured for you to sit.

The moment you settled across from her, she propped her elbows on the table and leaned in…There was a familiar gleam in her eyes—the kind that only appeared whenever she had a new scheme brewing. 

"It's one of the most popular beer houses in the city," she explained. "The drinks alone cost more than what we spend on groceries in a week. People who go there don't think twice before throwing money around, which means they're exactly the kind of people we're looking for."

You couldn't help but picture it.

Crowded tables, loud music and half-empty bottles scattered across polished wooden counters. Men laughing far too loudly, their faces flushed from alcohol, expensive watches gleaming beneath the dim lights while thick leather wallets bulged inside the pockets of tailored trousers.

You frowned, unease settling in your chest.

"I'm pretty sure it'll be full of drunk old men, Hanni." you rested your chin against your palm. “Doesn't that sound a little... dangerous?”

Hanni dismissed the concern with a careless wave of her hand.

"They'll be too wasted to notice us," she said with a shrug. "Besides, those are the guys with money. A few missing bills won't even cross their minds."

She leaned even closer, lowering her voice as though she were about to reveal the greatest secret in the world.

"Just give them a sweet smile," she said, the corners of her lips curling into something dangerously playful. "Make them think you've taken an interest in them. Laugh at their terrible jokes, let them believe they're charming..." 

She snapped her fingers between the two of you. "And before they even realize what's happening, you've already walked away with their wallet—or better yet, their credit cards."

A life built on stolen fortunes, calculated manipulation, and carefully crafted deception.

The words no longer sting the way they used to. They've become as familiar as your own name, each one another thread woven into the person you've become. What once filled you with guilt now slips through your fingers as though it was never yours to carry.

Perhaps that's what desperation does.

It doesn't ask you to become someone else. It simply teaches you how to live with the stranger you've become.

Earlier that evening, you and Hanni gathered everything you had stolen throughout the month, laying each piece across the small wooden table between you.

"We only gathered six hundred dollars this month, Y/N... This won't be enough."

A phone, a handful of jewelry, two wallets, and a watch clattered against the worn wood before settling into a messy pile.

"This won't cover this month's rent..." she let out a weary sigh, her manicured nails tapping absentmindedly against the tabletop as she stared at the stolen valuables and the few crumpled bills scattered between them. "And we still have enrollment next month."

Your lips fell into a pout. "But the jewelry I stole is real gold."

You reached for the bracelet, turning it beneath the light. The polished links gleamed against your fingers.

Hanni only sighed again, the exhaustion in her expression deepening.

"It's low-karat gold, Y/N. And there's barely enough of it to be worth anything." she rubbed her temple before glancing at the rest of the pile. "If you manage to steal more next time, maybe we'll actually get something decent for it."

You looked back down at the bracelet, the weight of her words settling heavier than the gold resting in your palm.

You weren't born into wealth…from kindergarten until the day you graduated high school, scholarships carried you through your education. Without them, you doubted you would've made it that far. 

College was different.

Moving out had seemed like the responsible decision at the time. Renting a small apartment near the university was cheaper than spending money on transportation every day between your hometown and campus, and you couldn't bring yourself to ask your parents for more than they were already giving. 

So you packed your clothes into two worn-out bags, hugged your mother goodbye, listened to your father's endless reminders to eat properly, and promised them you would be fine.

Your father spent his days baking homemade bread before the sun had fully risen, while your mother worked quietly as a bookkeeper, carefully balancing numbers that never seemed to balance in your own household. Together, they earned just enough to keep food on the table and a roof over your heads.

Needs always came first.

Wants became something you learned to admire from a distance.

Yet, strangely enough, you never felt deprived.

Your home was small, tucked away in a quiet neighborhood where everybody knew everybody, but it was always filled with warmth. 

While your classmates spoke about family vacations abroad, arrived at school carrying luxury handbags, and replaced perfectly good shoes simply because a newer pair had been released, you found comfort in simpler things. 

The smell of freshly baked bread lingering in the kitchen before sunrise. The sound of your father humming while kneading dough. Your mother's gentle voice reminding you not to skip breakfast, even when she knew you were running late.

You loved that life.

More importantly, you loved the people who gave it to you.

Which was why, when college came, you couldn't bear the thought of asking them for more. Every dollar they handed you felt heavier than the last, weighted by sacrifices they never spoke about but could never hide. 

You watched your father work longer hours. You noticed your mother's tired eyes after another day spent staring at ledgers and receipts. They never complained…not once—but love has a way of revealing exhaustion long before words ever do.

So you promised yourself that you would become lighter.

You moved out. You searched for part-time jobs. You told yourself that no matter how difficult life became, you would survive without asking your parents to carry you any farther.

You really believed honest work would be enough.

Finding a cheap apartment hadn't been easy, and if there was one stroke of luck you could still thank the universe for, it was meeting Hanni.

You found her through a post looking for a roommate. She needed someone to split the rent, and you needed somewhere you could actually afford. 

The apartment sat only a few minutes away from the university, saving you the transportation costs you had spent countless nights calculating over and over again.

Hanni turned out to be easier to live with than you expected. She wasn't the type to spend recklessly or chase after things she didn't need. Like you, she stretched every dollar until there was nothing left to stretch. 

For the first few months, you lived off your savings.

Each rent payment made the envelope thinner. Each grocery trip reminded you that numbers disappeared far quicker than they were earned. You searched for work every chance you got, walking into cafés, convenience stores, restaurants—any place with a "Now Hiring" sign taped to the window.

When a fast-food restaurant finally hired you as a server, you thought things were finally looking up.

You couldn't remember the last time you had been so relieved. The excitement, however, didn't last very long.

The paycheck barely reached your hands before it already belonged somewhere else. Half disappeared into rent. Another portion went to groceries, transportation, and the endless expenses college quietly demanded. 

Scholarships covered your tuition, but not everything else. There were laboratory fees, books that professors insisted were mandatory, printed materials, projects, uniforms, and countless little payments that no one ever warned you about.

The money came in. It left even faster.

And no matter how carefully you budgeted every cent, by the end of each month, you always found yourself staring at the same conclusion.

It still wasn't enough.

Hanni, however, never seemed to struggle the way you did.

For reasons she never fully explained, she always had money tucked away somewhere. Not enough to live lavishly, but enough to ease the constant pressure that settled on your shoulders every time rent was due. 

Naturally, you asked where all that money came from. Hanni would only shrug, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips as though the answer amused her.

"I have a lot of sidelines," she'd say, never bothering to explain any further. 

It was vague enough to end the conversation, yet suspicious enough to keep your curiosity alive.

Eventually, you stopped asking…but you never stopped noticing. 

One afternoon she'd come home carrying the newest phone model, casually placing it on the kitchen counter while she searched the refrigerator for something to eat. 

The following day, it would already be gone. 

Sometimes it was a watch. Other times it was a gold necklace or a designer wallet. The items constantly changed, disappearing almost as quickly as they appeared, but you never questioned her. 

It wasn't until the two of you had grown close enough that she finally trusted you with the truth. 

You remembered expecting disgust to settle in your stomach the moment she confessed. Instead, all you felt was curiosity. 

Hanni told her story so casually, as though she were recalling an ordinary childhood memory instead of admitting to a crime.

She learned how to steal when she was still a little girl. Whenever she picked up a toy at a store or tore open a packet of snacks while trailing beside her mother, no one questioned her. People rarely suspected children, and Hanni learned that long before she understood the weight of what she was doing.

What started as childish curiosity slowly became instinct. Instinct became skill, skill became confidence, and confidence eventually became survival. 

By the time she reached adulthood, stealing was no longer something she occasionally did—it was simply how she made a living. 

She wasn't born into comfort either. Her family had struggled just as much as yours, if not more, and perhaps that was why you found it difficult to judge her. 

You knew what it felt like to lie awake at night wondering how another month would pass. 

You knew what desperation looked like because you had seen it reflected in your parents' exhausted smiles, hidden behind reassuring words they never truly meant. Maybe that was why her confession never horrified you.

Desperation has a peculiar way of changing people.

Because somewhere deep inside, in a place you refused to acknowledge, you understood exactly why she had chosen this path.

"You should blend in. Don't wear those ridiculous jackets or black caps." Hanni chuckled, uncapping the marker in her hand before turning to the small whiteboard hanging beside the refrigerator. 

She drew little stick figures and arrows as if she were giving a university lecture instead of teaching you how to commit crimes. There were circles around the words confidence, timing, and exit, each one underlined twice before she tapped the marker against the board. 

It sounded embarrassingly simple…but it wasn’t.

Your first theft had been nothing more than a granola bar from a convenience store, yet your hands had trembled so violently you almost dropped it before reaching the exit. Your heart pounded against your ribs with enough force to convince you everyone around could hear it.

Every customer who glanced in your direction felt like security in disguise, every beep from the cashier sounded like an alarm, and by the time the automatic doors slid open behind you, your palms were slick with sweat around the tiny snack bar you had risked so much to steal.

Hanni, meanwhile…walked out carrying a bottle of wine, two bags of cheetos, and three packs of mini m&m's tucked somewhere beneath her oversized cardigan. She looked utterly unbothered, stopping only to ask whether you wanted to eat at the nearby park before either of you went home. 

You remembered staring at her with your mouth slightly open, unable to understand how someone could steal so much and still have the composure to worry about dinner.

She only laughed. "It gets easier."

You hated how right she was.

Over the following weeks, your trembling hands gradually learned to stay still. You learned that people rarely questioned someone who acted like they belonged. 

Confidence, Hanni often said, was the greatest disguise anyone could wear, and manipulation was nothing more than convincing people to believe the version of you that benefited them most. 

You practiced smiling at strangers. You practiced maintaining eye contact. You practiced walking away without looking back.

Little by little, it became easier to silence the guilt.

Two months later, you could finally say you were improving. Your movements were steadier, your excuses more believable, your lies smoother than they had ever been before. 

Even so, whenever you compared yourself to Hanni, you still felt like an amateur watching a professional at work. She stole with an ease you doubted you would ever possess.

"Hanni, I'm not good at seducing people... you know that." you let out a groan, dropping your forehead onto the table with a dull thud. 

For all the confidence you had slowly learned to fake while stealing, anything involving men was an entirely different story. 

You have no experience.

Your thefts still involved people, but you always kept your distance…especially from men. You waited for moments of carelessness, slipping valuables from unattended bags, distracted shoppers, or pockets left carelessly exposed before disappearing into the crowd.

It was safer that way. The rewards were smaller, perhaps, but it meant you never had to charm, distract, or make someone lower their guard just to steal from them.

After all, you were still an amateur.

Romance had always seemed like a luxury you couldn't afford. 

While your classmates spent their weekends going on dates or gossiping about their newest crushes, you spent yours calculating expenses and wondering whether instant noodles could count as dinner for the fourth night in a row.

Hanni had pointed it out countless times before.

According to her, manipulating people wasn't always about lying. 

With men, it was about making them believe they had a chance with you. 

The problem was…you had no idea how to do that. 

You didn't know how to flirt, how to bat your eyelashes, or how to laugh at someone's terrible jokes without making it painfully obvious you were pretending. The thought alone made your stomach twist into nervous knots.

Hanni rolled her eyes, dismissing every excuse before you even had the chance to finish making one.

"Oh, stop it." she waved a hand dramatically. "You're very pretty, Y/N. Don't give me that bullshit! Just smile at them…one cute little smile and I guarantee they'll be tripping over themselves to impress you."

You buried your face deeper into your arms."But, Hanni—"

"No buts." she sprang to her feet before you could protest again, practically skipping toward her bedroom. A moment later, she returned with two shopping bags swinging from her hands, the grin on her face growing impossibly wider.

"Besides, I already bought us dresses for tonight." she giggled.

Oh, you were doomed.

"This is so short," you complained, tugging at the hem of the black spaghetti-strap dress for what had to be the tenth time. Every time you managed to pull it down another inch, it simply rode back up the moment you took another step, as though the fabric itself was determined to embarrass you.

Hanni had insisted on doing everything herself. Your hair fell in loose, natural waves over your shoulders, soft enough to hide the nervous rise and fall of your breathing. She had done your makeup too, dusting the slightest touch of glitter across your eyelids that shimmered every time the streetlights caught your face. 

Even before you reached your destination, your feet were already protesting against the thin, strappy heels wrapped around your ankles, each step reminding you that beauty demanded sacrifices you had never volunteered to make.

Hanni glanced at you before letting out an amused laugh. "I can't see your panties from here, so you're fine."

You shot her an unamused look, earning another laugh from her.

Unlike you, Hanni looked completely at ease. 

Her dark green off-the-shoulder dress hugged her figure effortlessly, paired with matching heels that clicked confidently against the pavement. Her hair was swept into a messy updo that somehow looked intentionally elegant rather than rushed, and with the confidence she carried herself, no one would ever guess that the two of you struggled to pay rent every month.

Together, you looked exactly like the kind of girls who had never worried about money a day in their lives.

Which was almost funny.

Because hidden beneath expensive-looking dresses and carefully applied makeup were two women desperately hoping to walk away with someone else's wallet, watch, jewelry—or anything valuable enough to buy another month of survival.

"Okay, let's order a drink first and look around," Hanni said, her voice barely audible beneath the chatter spilling out from inside the beer house as she pushed the heavy wooden door open.

You followed closely behind, your heartbeat already beginning to pick up.

You had spent the entire walk convincing yourself that the place would be filled with loud, drunken old men slumped over tables, too intoxicated to notice a missing wallet or an expensive watch. Instead, your expectations dissolved the moment your eyes adjusted to the dim amber lights.

The place was crowded…not just with old men, but with all kinds of people. Groups of friends occupied long wooden tables, raising glasses every time the football match playing on the massive television reached an exciting moment. Couples sat tucked away in quieter corners, talking over bottles of beer, while businessmen who looked as though they had come straight from the office loosened their ties and laughed with colleagues over overflowing pitchers.

Your gaze drifted toward the long wooden bar stretching across one side of the room, shelves behind it neatly lined with bottles you had only ever seen locked behind glass displays. The smell of grilled meat and fried food lingered in the air, mixing with the bitter scent of beer, while a small band adjusted their instruments on the stage, preparing for the night ahead.

You quietly took a deep breath, trying to calm the nervous flutter building inside your chest. 

You had been stealing for two months now, yet every new place made you feel like it was your first all over again. The fear of getting caught never truly disappeared—it only learned how to hide beneath your smile.

Hanni walked through the crowd without a hint of hesitation, weaving between tables before claiming two empty seats near the stage. When the server approached, she greeted him with an easy smile, the kind that belonged to someone who had come for nothing more than a quiet drink after a long week.

"Two draft beers, please."

The server nodded before disappearing toward the counter.

Hanni waited until he was out of earshot before her eyes swept across the room once more, lingering only for a second before the corner of her lips slowly lifted.

"I found your table." Hanni raised a brow, the corner of her lips curling into a knowing smile.

You pouted, instinctively following her gaze as your eyes wandered across the crowded beer house. Round wooden tables filled nearly every corner, occupied by groups of men laughing over clinking bottles, scattered glasses, and the remnants of another round.

Of course she'd choose men. You had long grown used to Hanni's reasoning.

Men were easier to distract…and according to her, far easier to manipulate than women.

"Which one?" you asked, squinting as you searched through the sea of unfamiliar faces.

Hanni let out a quiet laugh before leaning closer, her perfume briefly overpowering the scent of beer lingering in the air. "The third table near the bar," she whispered, careful not to draw attention. "They look a little older than us. Not too old, though." 

She grinned mischievously. "I'd say they're giving daddy vibes."

You frowned at her. “Ugh, Hanni!”

Slowly, your gaze followed the direction she had subtly pointed, finally landing on the group she had been watching.

There were seven of them gathered around one of the larger tables, completely absorbed in their own conversation. They couldn't have been much older than Hanni had guessed, perhaps somewhere in their late twenties or early thirties. 

Dressed in simple shirts, rugged jeans, and jackets carelessly draped over the backs of their chairs, they looked more like friends unwinding after a long week than the wealthy businessmen you had imagined on your walk there.

At first glance, there was nothing remarkable about them. Yet the longer you watched, the easier it became to notice the details.

A watch that caught the light every time one of them lifted his beer. A phone left face-up beside an overflowing ashtray without a second thought. Car keys, wallets, and cigarette packs lay scattered across the wooden table between bottles of beer and half-finished baskets of bar snacks, abandoned in the comfort of good company.

They laughed loudly, occasionally teasing one another, while wisps of cigarette smoke curled lazily into the air above them. They were so engrossed in their own little world that they never once looked your way.

"What do you think?" Hanni asked, her eyes never leaving the group near the bar."I say you target that table while I take the one near the door."

Your gaze lingered on the men for another moment before dropping to the table between you. Almost as if on cue, the server returned with your drinks, carefully placing two glasses of draft beer in front of you. Tiny bubbles rushed to the surface beneath a thick layer of foam, the chilled glass immediately collecting beads of condensation.

Hanni thanked him with a smile before wrapping her fingers around her glass. She looked... excited. There was always a certain spark in her eyes before a job, one you had grown familiar with over the past two months. 

While your stomach twisted itself into knots, hers seemed to settle. The closer she came to danger, the calmer she became.

Your fingers traced the condensation gathering around your own glass as you quietly stared into the golden beer. The thought of walking up to a table full of strangers, pretending to be interested in one of them, was enough to make your stomach tighten. 

You had spent the last two months learning how to steal, how to lie without stumbling over your words, how to smile convincingly enough for people to lower their guard. 

But flirting? That was something entirely different.

Still...

You glanced down at the dress hugging your figure before absentmindedly smoothing the fabric over your thighs. Hanni had spent her own money buying it for you. She had curled your hair, done your makeup, and patiently convinced you that you looked like you belonged in a place like this. She had done everything she could to make tonight successful.

The least you could do was try.

The numbers flashed through your mind before you could stop them, reminding you how little time you had left before another payment was due. 

You drew in a slow breath before finally looking back at Hanni, offering her a small smile that carried far more determination than confidence.

"Alright," you said with determination. "I promise I'll do my best."

Her face immediately brightened. "That's my girl!"

She lifted her glass toward yours with a grin so wide it was almost contagious.

"Cheers to that, baby."

The soft clink echoed between you, disappearing almost instantly beneath the laughter, music, and the constant hum of conversations filling the beer house.

Easy…smile, flirt and steal.

After a couple of minutes spent nursing your drinks and quietly familiarizing yourselves with the beer house, Hanni caught your eye from across the table. She gave the slightest nod—a silent signal the two of you had long grown accustomed to. 

It was time.

You rose from your seat, smoothing the wrinkles from your dress before letting your fingers comb through your hair, tucking a few loose strands behind your ear. Hanni disappeared into the crowd without another word, already making her way toward her own target, while you headed in the opposite direction, forcing yourself to wear the kind of smile she had spent weeks teaching you. Soft enough to seem approachable…confident enough to belong.

The barstool closest to their table sat empty.

You slipped onto it, offering the bartender a polite smile as he passed by before pretending to study the rows of bottles displayed behind the counter. From the corner of your eye, your attention never truly left the table behind you.

Your heartbeat steadied, not because you were any less nervous…but because your mind had finally begun doing what Hanni had trained it to do.

Observe.

A few wallets lay carelessly on the wooden table, abandoned without a second thought by men too engrossed in conversation to notice their surroundings. Your fingers twitched ever so slightly.

Tonight, maybe two wallets would be enough. Any more than that would only invite unnecessary attention.

Your gaze lingered for another second before drifting higher, carefully studying each of the men one by one. 

If you were going to approach someone tonight, it couldn't be just anyone. You needed the one who looked the wealthiest, the one whose watch alone could cover next month's rent, whose jewelry might be worth more than everything you and Hanni had managed to steal over the past few months combined.

You couldn't flirt with all of them. So if you were going to take the risk, you might as well choose the wealthiest one.

Your eyes drifted from one man to another, careful not to linger for too long. 

One wore a pair of silver earrings that matched the chain resting against his chest. Another—the one with dimples that appeared every time he laughed—had an elegant silver watch wrapped around his wrist, the polished metal glimmering beneath the warm lights whenever he reached for his beer. The man beside him looked much simpler, dressed in an ordinary black shirt without a single piece of jewelry to catch your attention, and you dismissed him almost immediately.

You kept looking.

Until your gaze landed on a tattooed hand lazily wrapped around the neck of a beer bottle.

Silver rings adorned nearly every finger, each one different from the next, and just above them rested a watch that looked far too expensive to belong in your world. Your eyes followed the slow movement of his hand as he lifted the bottle to his lips, only to notice the gold chain disappearing beneath the collar of his dark shirt. 

His ear was adorned with several silver earrings, each one catching the amber light whenever he turned toward one of his friends. When he tilted his head back for another sip, the small silver ring through his lower lip glinted just as brightly.

Then your gaze wandered lower…a pair of Porsche keys hung carelessly from the belt loop of his black jeans, swinging gently whenever he shifted in his seat as though they were nothing more than an ordinary keychain.

You quietly looked away before he could catch you staring, your heartbeat quickening as your fingers curled around the wooden counter.

Target locked.

You immediately order a shot of tequila, not to get drunk, but to act drunk.

Hanni had told you that people lowered their guard around someone who seemed tipsy. A little laugh that lingered too long, a gaze that wandered a little too often, movements just clumsy enough to look believable. It made approaching strangers easier.

You thanked the bartender with a polite smile before resting your elbow against the counter. From the corner of your eye, your attention drifted back to the table.

His back was mostly facing you, making it difficult to study him without being obvious. Every now and then he'd turn toward one of his friends, giving you a brief glimpse of his side profile before looking away again, and somehow those fleeting seconds were enough for you to notice far more than you intended.

His jaw was clean and sharply defined, catching the amber glow whenever he tipped his head back to drink. A straight nose balanced his features effortlessly, while soft strands of dark hair fell across his forehead, shifting every time he ran a hand through them. Every so often, you caught sight of his dark round eyes, softened by the alcohol he'd been drinking, their usual alertness replaced by a lazy heaviness that made them unexpectedly... pretty.

Your brows knitted together. 

You were supposed to be memorizing his belongings Y/N! Not his face!

The bartender slid your tequila across the counter. You murmured a quiet thank you before lifting the glass to your lips, taking only a small sip. The burn barely had time to settle in your throat before your eyes sneakily wandered back toward the table.

"Huh?"  

His seat was empty!

Your brows furrowed as your eyes searched the group, confusion replacing the confidence you had spent the last several minutes trying so hard to build.

"Looking for me?” a deep chuckle sounded from behind you.

Your eyes widened, you turned so quickly you nearly knocked your drink over.

Even with you sitting down, he towered over you with ease, one side of his body leaning casually against the polished wooden counter. Up close, the details you had only managed to steal glances of moments ago became impossible to ignore—the silver rings decorating his fingers, the tattoos stretching over his right arm, the small hoop piercing his lower lip, and those heavy-lidded eyes now looking directly into yours.

The corner of his mouth curled upward…amused.

As though he'd caught you doing something you weren't supposed to.

"H-Hi!" you greeted, your voice coming out much smaller than you intended as you struggled to hide how badly he had startled you.

What the fuck.

For a split second, every lesson Hanni had drilled into your head disappeared. Your carefully rehearsed smile, your excuses, the confident persona you had spent two months trying to build—they all vanished the moment he caught you off guard.

He raised a brow, the corner of his mouth lifting ever so slightly.

"May I help you?"

Your own brows drew together before you could stop them, your smile faltering for the briefest moment.

"Hm?"

"You kept looking at me." he chuckled, low and amused.

There wasn't even a hint of uncertainty in his voice, as though he'd caught you staring several times already and had simply decided to humor you instead of calling you out for it. 

Heat rushed to your cheeks almost instantly, your mind scrambling for something—anything…that would keep your act from falling apart before it had even begun.

Trying to save yourself, you immediately gave him a flirty smile.

"Oh..." a soft giggle escaped your lips, "Was I that obvious?"

You tilted your head ever so slightly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before looking back up at him through your lashes exactly the way Hanni had told you to. 

When he took a step closer, your breath hitched. 

His thick black boots brushed against the legs of your stool, and with the way he positioned himself, his broad frame nearly shielded you from the rest of the room. It wasn't intentional…or maybe it was—but suddenly the chatter of the beer house seemed much farther away than it had a second ago.

"Uh-huh," he murmured, the single sound barely above a whisper.

The faint scent of mint lingered beneath the beer on his breath, close enough to make your thoughts blur for a moment. Up close, the gold chain resting against his collarbone shimmered softly, layered alongside several silver necklaces that framed the base of his neck. 

Before your courage had the chance to abandon you…you slowly lifted a hand and rested it around the back of his neck, your fingertips grazing the cool metal chains lying against his skin.

"You're cute," you whispered, biting lightly on your lower lip as your fingers idly toyed with one of the necklaces. Every movement had been rehearsed in your head a dozen times before tonight, yet none of them felt natural now that they were happening. You only hoped he couldn't tell.

Fuck, he’s so handsome up close!

His head tilted slightly, curiosity flickering across his face before his gaze slowly drifted downward. It lingered far longer than you were prepared for, tracing the exposed skin above your dress before continuing lower. Instinctively, you fought the urge to tug at the hem that had ridden higher on your thighs.

Don't. Fake it until you make it.

"I am?" he asked, the corner of his mouth lifting into the faintest smirk. His tongue swept across the silver ring piercing his lower lip before he leaned even closer, his lips hovering just beneath your ear.

"Yeah," you breathed, forcing confidence into your voice despite the frantic beating of your heart. "Want you."

The words felt foreign leaving your mouth. Still, they had the desired effect.

As his attention remained fixed on the spot where your pulse fluttered, your fingers subtly found the clasp hidden beneath the chains around his neck. 

One careful movement...that was all it would take.

You had barely begun to unhook it when his hand closed firmly around your wrist.

Your heart stopped. For one horrifying second, you were certain he'd caught you.

"Let's go to my car."

What?

"H-Huh? I..."

He lifted his head just enough for your eyes to meet his. The lazy amusement from earlier had disappeared, replaced by something darker. 

"I can't fuck you here."

Your eyes widen, fucking was your limit!

Your gaze drifted to the thick gold necklace resting against his chest... the leather wallet tucked carelessly into his pocket... and the sleek black car waiting only a few steps away.

Fuck it.

You followed him in silence, the cool night breeze brushing against your exposed skin and reminding you just how short your dress was. 

Your gaze remained fixed on his broad back as he unlocked the car, your throat tightening around a nervous swallow.

Earlier, when you had walked past Hanni, you had nearly burst into tears at the sight of her giving you an approving nod, silently cheering you on while she remained at her table, busy charming the men around her.

You couldn't back out now. Not after she'd placed this much faith in you.

The parking lot was quiet, a little farther from the beer house…the music fading into the distance. When he turned around, you gathered every ounce of courage you had left and greeted him with the sweetest smile you could muster.

Your mind raced, thoughts crashing into one another until only three remained.

First, find a way to slip the gold chain from around his neck. The wallet would come next, once he finally let his guard down.

Second, you were not going to fuck him. 

It didn't matter how broad his shoulders were, how unfairly handsome he looked, or how pretty his eyes became whenever he smiled.

Your hormones could cry about it later.

Third, whatever happened tonight... for the love of God, do not get caught.

He looked down at you, one brow lifting ever so slightly when he noticed the faint tremble in your legs.

"Get in."

He pulled the backseat door open for you, and you offered him a small, flirty smile before carefully slipping inside. 

The leather seat gave beneath your weight with a quiet creak, and for the briefest moment, you convinced yourself you'd have a second to steady your breathing, to gather the scattered pieces of your thoughts before facing him again.

The hope didn't last.

The car shifted as he climbed in after you, the door clicking shut behind him with a soft, final sound that seemed to swallow the last bit of space inside the cabin. 

Your pulse faltered, the hem of your dress had ridden higher than you'd intended, exposing far more of your thighs than you were comfortable with, the fabric inching dangerously close to revealing the lace of your panties. Every instinct urged you to smooth it back into place, but you stopped yourself.

Focus, Y/N! You need to seduce him!

You had barely opened your mouth, ready to deliver one of the corniest pickup lines Hanni had relentlessly drilled into your head, when his hand suddenly pulled your hair. 

Your lips parted in surprise as he tugged you toward him, leaving no room for hesitation before his lips crashed against yours.

A breathless whimper escaped you, your eyes widening for only a second before they fluttered shut. His fingers tightened around the hair above your nape, angling your head exactly how he wanted it, his kisses deep, hungry, and impatient.

The bitter trace of beer lingered on his tongue, flooding your senses until your thoughts blurred at the edges. Your body yielded without resistance, melting effortlessly against his as he drew you closer, the strength behind the movement making you feel almost weightless in his hold.

For a fleeting moment, you forgot your mission.

His tongue slipped against yours with practiced ease, stealing every coherent thought from your mind before instinct finally caught up. 

You slowly lifted your arms around his neck, your fingers threading through the softness of his hair as though simply indulging in the kiss. Then, careful not to rush…they drifted lower, brushing over the warm skin of his nape before gliding toward the necklace resting against his neck.

“Open your mouth wider,” he rasped, pulling away just enough to speak. A string of saliva stretched between your mouths as his other hand slid around your neck…his long, tattooed fingers wrapping firmly around your throat in a possessive grip.

Your eyes widened…one of your hands remained tangled behind his nape, your fingers still toying with the chain around his neck, desperately searching for the tiny clasp hidden beneath his hair. 

Too distracted to obey his request… he suddenly tugged your hair harder.

A startled gasp escaped your lips, and he seized the opportunity—his tongue slipping hot and messy into your parted mouth, kissing you with a hunger that left you no chance to catch your breath.

You barely kissed him back, surrendering to the pace he set as your mind gradually emptied. Somehow, through the dizziness clouding your head, your fingertips continued their quiet search along the cool metal resting against his skin, praying to find the clasp before he noticed.

“Mmph!”

A soft whimper caught in your throat when he bit down harshly on your lower lip. The hand around your neck tightened, his fingers pressing deeper into your throat until your breath hitched, the pressure almost choking you.

“What are you doing?” he groaned, pulling you away from his lips before effortlessly lifting your entire body onto his lap. 

Large hands settled on your hips, guiding your legs to either side of him until you were straddling him completely, your dress riding embarrassingly higher over your thighs in the process.

“Hmm?” you murmured, blinking up at him through hazy eyes, your lips swollen and glistening from his relentless kisses.

He tilted his head, studying you in silence. 

The intensity of his gaze made something tighten inside your chest. Your confidence, already hanging by a thread, began to unravel beneath his eyes alone, and without thinking, your hands abandoned the necklace altogether, drifting back into his hair as though that had been your intention from the very beginning.

“Kiss me back,” he rasped.

A quiet breath of relief nearly escaped your lips. He hadn't noticed.

You offered him the sweetest smile you could manage before leaning in again, your heart pounding so violently you were certain he could feel it through your chest. You kissed him as carefully as you could, trying to mimic the way he'd kissed you only moments ago, parting his lips with hesitant eagerness, hoping it looked natural enough to fool him.

To your surprise, he let you…he didn't take control or deepen the kiss. Instead, he simply let you explore him at your own pace.

Heat crept up your neck and settled across your cheeks, embarrassment blooming beneath your skin as the realization slowly dawned on you. 

He wasn't following your lead. 

“Baby...” he chuckled between kisses, his tattooed hand sliding up to cradle your jaw, holding your face steady with a firm grip. “You're not kissing me properly.”

Embarrassment rushed through your body so quickly it almost made you dizzy, your inexperience laid bare after only a few clumsy kisses. 

Determination quickly swallowed the humiliation. 

Before you could think twice, you leaned in again, kissing him with far more urgency than before, desperate to prove that you knew exactly what you were doing.

The moment he finally kissed you back, a breathless whimper nearly escaped you. 

He kissed you effortlessly, guiding the rhythm while you struggled to keep up, your breaths already turning shallow enough that you were certain you looked seconds away from hyperventilating.

Determined not to lose yourself completely, you bit down on his lower lip, earning a low, gravelly groan that vibrated against your mouth. The sound alone made your stomach flutter. Taking advantage of the distraction, your trembling hands drifted back to the chain around his neck, fingertips carefully searching beneath his hair for the tiny clasp.

Your eyes fluttered shut when he sucked on your tongue, warmth rushing across your ears and down your neck so quickly it almost burned. It was your first time being kissed like this—his kisses were shamelessly lewd, all heat and desperation. Saliva glistened between your mouths whenever he pulled away, only to capture your lower lip again with another lingering suck that stole the air from your lungs. 

Before long, the only sounds filling the car were the quiet, wet presses of your mouths and the uneven rhythm of your breathing.

You couldn't tell whether he was simply that good at kissing or if your lack of experience made every touch feel overwhelming. Either way, the way his hand remained wrapped around your jaw, firmly angling your head exactly where he wanted it, sent a shiver running down your spine.

A soft, helpless moan escaped your lips when you felt him spit into your mouth without breaking the kiss. The sensation sent heat unfurling through every inch of your body, your knees threatening to weaken even from where you sat on his lap. 

Your thoughts dissolved into a haze, and before you realized it, the fingers that had been so carefully searching for the clasp of his necklace had gone slack, your mission slipping further out of reach with every slow, lingering pull of his mouth.

“Grind on me.” he groaned.

Your eyes widened, before you could even process his words, both of his hands settled around the curve of your hips, guiding your body into a slow, deliberate roll against his lap.

“W-Wait—” 

His mouth found your neck, scattering soft, lingering kisses along the sensitive skin. Goosebumps rippled across your body as his lips traveled lower, his grip never once leaving your hips as he slowly rocked them back and forth, drawing helpless whimpers from your lips.

Heat rushed to your cheeks the moment you felt the firm outline of his hard cock pressing against the thin fabric of your panties.

“Roll your hips, baby.” he grunted.

His teeth grazed your neck before his tongue soothed the sting, the cool metal of his lip piercing dragging lightly over your throat.

Your eyes squeezed shut…losing yourself completely as you followed the guidance of his hands, the subtle throbs of his cock impossible to ignore through the layers separating your bodies.

“That’s it,” he praised, looking down at your rolling hips.

“Oh, gosh…” you moaned.

You couldn't comprehend how dirty and lewd this was, grinding against a stranger's cock while convincing yourself that you wouldn't fuck him.

His clothed mushroom tip grazed the apex between your thighs as he guided your hips through another slow rub, drawing a startled gasp from your lips. A wave of warmth unfurled low in your stomach, spreading until it settled heavily between your legs.

Fuck, you were getting so wet.

Your body burned with a growing tension you didn't know how to quiet. The fabric of your panties clung uncomfortably against your cunt. When his hands finally cupped your breasts over the thin fabric of your dress, a shaky breath caught in your throat. 

Your fingers instinctively clutched at his shoulders for balance as he continued to maneuver your body with effortless ease.

“Oh my-”

His lips trailed lower…you sucked in a sharp breath when they reached the swell of your cleavage, your heart stumbling the moment you caught sight of his tongue slipping between the soft curve of your breasts, tasting the narrow valley created by the tight fabric hugging your chest.

“Hmm... so soft,” he murmured.

Before you could even process the praise, he leaned back just enough to gather saliva in his mouth, his cheeks hollowing before he leaned down and let a warm bead of spit fall between your breasts. It slowly trailed down the center of your cleavage, disappearing beneath the neckline of your dress.

A startled gasp escaped you, the shamelessness of it sent another rush of heat coursing through your body.

“Spread my spit, baby.” his voice dropped into a teasing murmur as he brushed a lingering kiss against your cheek. “I want you messy.”

He never stopped guiding your hips, slow, patient rubs against his lap while he watched you expectantly.

You swallowed thickly. It felt as though your body had slipped into a trance, your thoughts muffled beneath the haze he'd wrapped around you. 

Almost absentmindedly, your fingers found the warmth between your breasts, gathering the wetness before slowly spreading his spit across the soft skin of your cleavage, his dark, heavy-lidded eyes following every hesitant movement.

Your gaze drifted downward, landing on the gold chain resting against his collarbone.

The necklace!

For a split second, you wanted to slap yourself. 

You'd become so hopelessly lost in him that you'd nearly forgotten why you were here in the first place.

Trying to keep up the act, you smiled and gathered the warm trace of his spit onto your fingertips before slowly bringing them to your lips. A flicker of nervousness stirred in your chest as you parted your lips, letting your tongue glide languidly over your damp fingers, never once breaking eye contact with him.

His lips parted. “You like it?”

You nodded. “Hmm…”

“Want more?” he cooed, his voice rough with satisfaction. 

Your cheeks heated, a little self-conscious under the way he stared at you before leaning in to kiss you again. You whimpered when he spat into your mouth while kissing you, trying to focus as your hands finally found the chain around his neck. Your fingers worked quickly beneath the curtain of his hair, your heart pounding so violently you feared he would hear it.

Then—the clasp gave. 

Relief crashed over you.

You carefully eased the necklace free, letting the chain slip from your fingers onto the leather seat beside you with a faint clink before your hands returned to brace against his chest. 

Your pulse hammered in your throat, so distracted by stealing the jewelry that you didn't feel his fingers hooking beneath the thin straps of your black dress until they were already sliding down. Cool air kissed your skin a second before you realized the straps had fallen from your shoulders, the dress bunched at your waist, your bra laid bare beneath his dark, hungry stare.

"Ohh—" a moan ripped from your lips when his hands grabbed your tits through the bra, his palms kneading the soft flesh as his fingers pinched and rolled your stiff nipples through the thin lace. 

"So pretty," he praised, his eyes never leaving the swell of your breasts spilling over the cups.

His hand slid behind your back, his fingers flicking the clasp open. Your bra sprang loose, your tits bouncing free, your nipples peaked and aching.

“Keep grinding, baby.” he rasped.

Your hips moved before your brain could catch up, rolling against his lap. His hard cock formed a thick ridge beneath his pants, pressing right against your soaked panties. 

The delicious friction made your cunt leak, slick pooling in the gusset as each slow roll of your hips rubbed your clit across his length until your panties clung to your wet, chubby slit.

“Mhm,” you whined as his mouth locked onto one nipple, his tongue lapping at the bud before sucking hard, his teeth scraping lightly while his other hand squeezed your breast, his fingers twisting the neglected nipple until it throbbed.

Wet sounds filled the car—the slurp of his mouth around your nipple and the squelch of your dripping cunt rubbing against his cock through the fabric. 

You forced yourself to look down, your heavy-lidded eyes searching for anything that might help you finish what you had come here to do. Then your thigh brushed against the square outline beneath the fabric of his pants.

His wallet.

You drew in a shaky breath before rolling your hips against him with a little more desperation. A low groan vibrated against your nipple the moment he felt the change in your rhythm, the sound sending another wave of heat through your body. 

A helpless whine slipped from your lips as your own hands wandered over him, trying to appear just as consumed by the moment. Your palms skimmed over his shoulders, down the firm planes of his chest, and lower still, making you swallow hard at the realization of just how toned he felt beneath your touch.

“Ouch,” you whimpered when his teeth suddenly bit into your nipple.

He only chuckled against your skin.

The sting disappeared beneath a lingering kiss before he lifted his head just enough to murmur.

“Slow down, baby. You're gonna make me cum.” 

The teasing words had barely left his lips before his attention shifted back to your breast, his mouth closing around the swollen nipple with harsh, eager suction that made your thighs instinctively tense around him.

Even through the layers of his pants, you could feel how big and hard he was beneath you, the firm outline of his thick cock pressing insistently against your soaked panties with every shallow movement. 

Fuck, focus Y/N.

His wallet had shifted dangerously close to the edge of his pocket, almost slipping free from the constant movement of your bodies.

You rolled your hips against him again…another soft moan escaping your lips as the friction sent a dizzying pulse of pleasure through you. 

“Oh my…” 

For a fleeting second, you almost forgot the wallet, your body threatening to lose the battle your mind was still desperately trying to win.

“Baby…” he groaned harshly.

His hands tightened around your waist, pinning your hips firmly in place before you could move against him again.

Confused, you instinctively tried to move again, but his hand beat you to it. It slipped between your thighs before firmly cupping your pussy over your soaked panties, his palm pressing against your wet cunt as his fingers slowly dragged against the damp fabric. A soft, unmistakable squelch filled the quiet cabin, and your breath caught in your throat.

“I said stay still, fuck.” he whispered, mercilessly squeezing your pussy through the thin fabric until another helpless moan spilled from your lips. 

Your eyes fluttered shut on instinct, your mouth falling open as his slow, deliberate touch only made you wetter, the soaked fabric sticking embarrassingly to your folds with every movement of his hand.

A startled gasp escaped you when his free hand suddenly rose to your face, firmly squeezing your cheeks together. 

“Keep your eyes open. Look at what I'm doing to you,” he commanded, his thumb finding your clit through the damp fabric and rubbing slow, lazy circles that sent a violent shiver through your body.

“Oh... gosh,” you whimpered, your voice barely above a breath. 

Your thoughts were beginning to dissolve all over again until something caught your eye.

His wallet had finally slipped free from his pocket, landing quietly on the leather seat beside him. Relief surged through you, and you almost smiled in triumph, the sight nearly distracting you from your mission's success.

Before you could dwell on it, he hooked a finger beneath the damp gusset of your panties, flipping the fabric aside just enough to expose your slick pussy. His fingertips returned, meeting your bare cunt directly, and the sudden skin-to-skin contact tore another breathless gasp from your lips.

Your eyes rolled back as his long fingers slowly rubbed against your sensitive cunt. The cool metal of his rings grazed your slit with every stroke, sending a sharp shiver through your body and drawing another helpless whimper from your throat.

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest. "Enjoying yourself?"

You could only nod, slow and breathless, your chest rising and falling beneath uneven breaths. Heat bloomed across your cheeks, your face burning from every filthy thing you had let him do to you.

"Yeah?" he murmured, his voice dropping into a whisper. "You like my fingers, baby?"

Before you could answer, his middle finger slowly pressed into your tight, untouched hole.

A broken whimper escaped you, your teeth sinking into your lower lip as your body instinctively tensed around the unfamiliar stretch. For a fleeting second, your hand nearly came up to push him away, your inexperience heightening every overwhelming sensation. But he caught your face first, his fingers tightening around your cheeks, forcing your gaze back to him.

He inhaled softly before hollowing his cheeks, gathering saliva in his mouth, then leaned closer and messily spat between your parted lips.

"Swallow."

You obeyed without hesitation, your throat bobbing as you swallowed, your walls fluttering tightly around his finger at the command.

His hand slipped lower, lifting the hem of your skirt before his gaze settled between your thighs. He watched with quiet fascination as his finger slowly disappeared inside your virgin hole before drawing back out again, only to repeat the motion at an unhurried pace.

"You're so tight, baby." he tilted his head, his eyes never leaving your pussy. "When was the last time you fucked?"

The question alone nearly brought tears to your eyes, embarrassment burning through you just as intensely as the confusing mixture of pain and pleasure his touch continued to pull from your body.

“L-Long time ago.” 

As if Y/N! 

He licked his lower lip, a quiet whimper slipping past your lips as the pad of his middle finger reached deeper inside your warm tight hole. His movements remained slow until his fingertip brushed against your spongy spot, the sharp ache of the stretch gradually melting into a pleasure so warm it made your body soften around him.

"Aww, is that why you're so tight, baby?” he whispered.

God, this was so wrong.

“Maybe you need me to stretch your hole again, hmm?" he cooed, lowering his head until his lips wrapped around your swollen nipple, sucking gently while his finger continued to work deeper into your tight cunt.

"Y-Yes," you mumbled incoherently, your rational thoughts dissolving as your hips instinctively rolled forward, chasing the slow rhythm of his finger.

The moment he felt you move, his free hand settled firmly around your waist, stilling you with ease. He released your nipple with a soft pop before a quiet chuckle escaped him, his dark eyes lifting to meet yours with unmistakable amusement.

"Patience, baby. I'm still having fun."

A pout tugged at your lips, ready to answer back, but the words never came. His left hand slipped between your thighs instead, slowly parting your folds before drawing back the hood revealing your glistening clit, exposing it completely beneath his dark gaze.

"Wanna suck this clit so bad," he whispered, his gaze fixed between your thighs as your clit pulsed beneath the weight of his stare.

He leaned down and spat over it, a slow trail of saliva slipping down your slit until it met the middle finger buried inside your hole. A helpless whimper caught in your throat, your eyes squeezing shut as he spread the saliva over your exposed clit with slow, pressured strokes, every messy rub sending another wave of pleasure through your body.

Both of his hands were devoted to you now. His tattooed fingers continued to work your tight hole with an unhurried rhythm while his other hand circled your swollen clit, spreading your growing wetness together with his saliva. His eyes never left your cunt, watching every tiny twitch, every shiver that rippled through you as though he wanted to memorize your pulsating pussy.

"You wanna cum?" he asked, lifting a brow as he watched your chest rise and fall with uneven breaths. His middle finger emerged coated in a thick ring of your white milky juices before disappearing back inside you, while your legs trembled uncontrollably beneath every slow sweep of his thumb across your swollen clit.

You nodded desperately, “Y-Yes…”

He pursed his lips, studying you for a long moment.

"You sure?"

"P-Please," you pleaded, your hips instinctively rolling in search of more.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" a small smile tugged at his lips, though there wasn't a trace of humor behind it.

Confusion barely had the chance to settle before he slowly inserted a second finger into your cunt.

A loud moan tore from your throat as the sudden stretch stole the air from your lungs. His fingers paused only briefly, allowing your body to adjust before they began to move together, scissoring you open with slow, rhythmic strokes while his other hand never stopped rubbing your clit.

The lingering ache of the stretch gradually melted beneath the mounting pleasure, your body surrendering to it completely. Your thighs quivered uncontrollably around his hand, your back arching as your orgasm crashed through you. Your eyes rolled back, your walls fluttering helplessly around his fingers while wave after wave of pleasure left your entire body trembling.

“Well done, baby.” he praised.

Even after the intensity began to ebb, your cunt continued to pulse around him, your legs still shaking from the aftershocks.

Only when your breathing had become nothing more than uneven gasps did he slowly withdraw his fingers from your hole, drawing another helpless whimper from your lips as the sudden emptiness met your lingering sensitivity.

Then he leaned in, his teeth grazed the shell of your ear in a soft bite before his lips brushed against it.

"I’m so proud." he whispered.

As your gaze drifted downward, it caught on the slight opening of his wallet, the sight striking you like a quiet reminder of why you had approached him in the first place.

Your fucking mission.

You bit down hard on your lower lip, gathering what little composure remained before forcing the words past your throat.

"C-Can I drink some water? I'm kinda thirsty," you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper. Your thighs were still trembling from your release, your heart pounding so loudly against your chest that you were certain he could hear it.

You expected him to refuse…Instead, he simply nodded.

"Hmm sure, baby. Let me get it for you."

His tongue swept across his lower lip before he gently tucked a few loose strands of hair away from your flushed cheeks, his touch unexpectedly tender as his eyes lingered on yours.

You swallowed hard, relief flooding through your body so quickly it almost made you dizzy.

"I'll wait for you here," you said with a small smile, leaning forward just enough to steal a quick kiss from his lips before he stood.

His eyes narrowed, smiling a little, but there was something in them that you couldn't quite pinpoint.

The moment he climbed out of the car, shutting the door behind him before disappearing into the noisy beer house in search of a bottle of water, you sprang into action. 

You quickly fixed your dress before reaching for the thick gold necklace that had slipped onto the leather seat during everything that had happened between the two of you. Your fingers wrapped around it before darting toward his wallet, still resting exactly where you had dropped it after deliberately sitting on it when you asked for water. 

Your pulse thundered in your ears as your gaze frantically swept across the interior of the car, searching for anything else of value. It didn't take long before your eyes landed on a small, heavy bag tucked beneath the passenger seat. 

Without wasting another second—or even bothering to look more....you snatched it as well, clutching the necklace, the wallet, and the bag tightly against your chest before quietly pushing the car door open.

With shaky, trembling hands, you slipped out of the vehicle and hurried toward the nearest sprawling tree beside the parking lot, its thick trunk shielding you from anyone who might glance in your direction. Only then did you allow yourself to stop, your chest rising and falling with uneven breaths as you hugged your stolen belongings close, desperately trying to calm the frantic pounding of your heart. 

The necklace alone felt expensive in your hands, its weight unmistakable, and you couldn't help but admire the rich gleam of the gold beneath the parking lot lights. 

This has to be high-karat. 

Your eyes practically sparkled at the thought, relief and triumph swelling inside your chest as you silently congratulated yourself. You had actually managed to steal from him without getting fucked... and without getting caught.

Almost.

A small smile tugged at your lips as you slipped the thick gold necklace into your pocket, the reassuring weight of it pressing against your thigh. 

Your attention soon drifted to the heavy bag you had grabbed from beneath the seat, curiosity getting the better of you. You crouched beneath the tree and slowly pulled the zipper open, your brows knitting together at the sight of something black and metallic nestled inside. 

Frowning, you reached to get a better look, only for your breath to catch in your throat.

It was a gun. 

What the fuck?

Your hands instantly began to shake. The bag slipped from your grasp, hitting the ground with a heavy thud that echoed far louder than it should have in the quiet of the parking lot. 

You stared at it in horror before your gaze darted to the wallet still clutched tightly against your chest, your pulse pounding so violently it made your fingers numb.

"Oh God... this is a bad idea," you whispered to yourself, panic clawing its way up your throat.

For one reckless moment, you considered running back, returning the necklace, the wallet, the bag….everything—and pretending none of this had ever happened. 

Maybe you could leave them inside his car before he noticed. Maybe you could still walk away.

But it was already too late.

If there was one thing Hanni had drilled into your head from the very beginning, it was this: once you stole something, you never gave it back. Going back wasn't bravery—it was stupidity. 

And stupidity was exactly how thieves got caught.

With trembling hands, you slowly opened his wallet, your brows immediately knitting together when an identification card tucked behind a gleaming gold badge came into view. 

Your stomach dropped. This wasn't a wallet at all—it was a badge holder. 

A cold chill crept down your spine as your fingers shakily flipped the leather, your eyes scanning every detail printed across the identification. The words blurred together at first, your racing heart making it impossible to focus, until your gaze landed on the line that mattered most.

CITY POLICE DEPARTMENT

Rank: Captain  | Name: Jeon Jungkook

For a long, terrifying second, your mind went completely blank, your pulse pounding so violently it drowned out every sound around you. 

"F-Fuck! Oh God—fuck!"

The words tumbled out in a frantic whisper as your hands shook so violently you could barely keep hold of the badge holder. 

Your breathing grew shallow, your mind racing through every possible escape, each one ending worse than the last. 

You stared at the polished badge in horror, your heart threatening to beat straight out of your chest, when the sound of approaching footsteps suddenly reached your ears.

Panic surged through your body, and you instinctively turned, ready to run for your life, but a firm hand wrapped around your wrist before you could take a single step.

"Where are you going?" he asked with a quiet chuckle from behind you, amusement lacing his voice.

You froze.

Your gaze remained fixed straight ahead, too terrified to look back at him. Cold sweat trickled down your spine as your heartbeat thundered in your ears. 

The heavy bag still lay on the ground at your feet. The gold necklace weighed against your pocket. And clutched tightly between your trembling fingers was his badge holder, still opened to the identification that had shattered every ounce of confidence you had only moments ago.

You had been fucking caught.

Not just by any random stranger. 

But by a goddamn police captain.

"I got your water, baby," he said, his voice coated in quiet amusement. You flinched the moment the cold bottle brushed against the back of your thighs, the chill a cruel contrast to the heat of your panic.

"O-Officer, I—"

"You forgot something, didn't you?" he whispered against your ear, his grip never loosening around your wrist. 

The bottle of water lazily traced the length of your trembling thigh, as though he had all the time in the world.

Your eyes squeezed shut, your legs threatened to give out beneath you, hot tears gathering until they spilled freely down your cheeks. Every frantic thought crashed into the next, leaving you unable to form a single coherent sentence.

He leaned in even closer, his warm breath ghosting just below your ear.

"You forgot my wallet, baby." his voice dropped into a slow drawl. "That's my badge holder."

A broken sob caught in your throat. Your future flashed before your eyes in vivid, terrifying fragments. 

You could already see the cold metal of handcuffs locking around your wrists, the flashing red and blue lights, the backseat of a patrol car, a holding cell, your family finding out, your future slipping through your fingers before you had even been given the chance to fight for it. Everything you had worked so hard for, every dream you had stubbornly clung to despite your circumstances, all of it seemed to crumble into pieces in the span of a few unbearable seconds.

You had just thrown your entire life away.

“P-Please, I-’’

"Is my poor baby too dumb, or does that pretty little head of yours just want to get fucked?"

You shook your head frantically, tears spilling faster down your cheeks. "N-No, no, Officer, please... I'm sorry. It was a mistake—"

A startled gasp escaped you when he suddenly spun you around, your back pressing against the rough bark of the tree. Your tear-clouded eyes instantly met his dark ones, the amusement lingering in them only making the panic clawing at your chest grow worse.

He raised a brow, studying your face for a long, agonizing moment.

"Aww, look at you…so scared, baby." he cooed.

“I-I’m sorry-”

“Want me to give you a chance?’’ he tilted his head.

Hope bloomed inside your chest so suddenly it almost hurt.

Jungkook took another step forward, his broad frame caging you against the tree until there was nowhere left to run. Your entire body trembled beneath his gaze, your heart pounding so violently you could barely hear yourself think, and you looked up at him with desperate, pleading eyes, clinging to the smallest possibility that he might actually let you go.

"P-Please, Officer… I-I'm sorry..." you stammered, the words tumbling over one another in your haste. "I-I know it was wrong, a-and that—"

‘’Run.” 

Your lips parted in disbelief.

"W-What?"

He slowly licked his lower lip, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth that carried no warmth whatsoever. Stepping closer until there wasn't even a breath of space left between you, he brushed the pad of his thumb across your trembling lips, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Run, baby. Run as fast as you can.” his voice dropped into a low murmur, his tone as though he were talking to a child. "And when I catch you, I'm gonna take you to prison. I'll fuck you every day behind those rusty metal bars. I'll use your tight little pussy until your hole is gaping and leaking. Maybe I'll even let my comrades fuck you too. We'll take turns fucking that slutty, manipulative pussy of yours."

Desperation made people do reckless things. 

It silenced reason, drowned out fear, and left nothing behind but the instinct to survive.

You spun around and bolted before your mind had the chance to catch up, your legs carrying you as fast as they could through the dimly lit streets. Instead of following the brighter roads, you veered into the narrow, shadowed alleyways, your panicked thoughts convincing you that the light was far more dangerous than the dark. 

People could help you—but the moment they learned why you were running, they wouldn't see a terrified woman. 

They would see a thief.

A criminal…and they would hand you right back to him.

Your lungs burned, each desperate breath sharper than the last, your feet throbbing against the unforgiving pavement as you forced yourself to keep going. When a tall chain-link fence came into view, fear surged through your exhausted body. You stumbled toward it, your shaking hands already reaching for the metal, frantically searching for a way to climb over it.

You never got the chance.

A powerful hand suddenly seized both of your wrists from behind, wrenching them backward before you could react. A startled cry tore from your throat as your body was dragged away from the fence, only to be slammed against it a heartbeat later.

 “L-Let me go!” you cried.

The rough metal dug painfully into your cheek, your breath knocked from your lungs as he forced your arms higher behind your back. Then you heard it—

A sharp metallic click…cold steel closed around your wrist.

You were handcuffed.

He secured the other cuff around the metal fence, leaving your wrists restrained above your head. The cold steel bit into your skin as you instinctively struggled against it, your cheek pressed harshly against the chain-link, the rough metal scraping your flushed skin every time you tried to pull away. The handcuffs refused to budge, each desperate tug only making them dig in deeper.

"N-No... no, please," you cried, your voice breaking into helpless sobs.

Instead of hurting you, he reached up and gently combed a few loose strands of hair away from your face, the unexpected tenderness making your entire body flinch. His fingers lingered for a moment, idly twirling a lock of your hair around them before giving it a soft tug.

"Shh, it’s okay…" he said in a mocking tone.

"I-I’m sorry, please…I’ll do anything—"

The plea died on your lips when you felt him lower himself behind you.

“Anything, baby?” he whispered.

He settled onto one knee before slowly gathering the hem of your dress, inch by inch, until your damp panties were fully exposed beneath the cool night air. His large hands slid down to your thighs, spreading your legs apart with an effortless firmness that left your body trembling against the restraint. 

Your eyes widened as you pulled uselessly at the handcuffs, your legs instinctively trying to close, but there was nowhere to go. A warm tongue suddenly pressed against the fabric between your thighs, dragging slowly over your sticky panties.

His nose remained buried in your tight hole, drawing in a slow, deep breath as though savoring every scent of you. His tongue dragged languidly along your slit from behind, the damp fabric of your panties doing little to dull the sensation.

"O-Oh gosh-" you cried, fresh tears spilling down your flushed cheeks as you felt him inhale against your clothed cunt again. His tongue swept over you once more, leaving your panties even wetter than before.

“Let me play with you.” he murmured before diving in.

You bit down hard on your lip, another wave of warmth pooling between your thighs despite yourself. More tears slipped from your eyes, the overwhelming pleasure tangling with the fear coursing through your body.

I am not enjoying this, I am not-

A low groan rumbled behind you as he spread your legs farther apart. His pointed nose brushed against your puckered hole, inhaling deeply. 

You craned your neck to look around, but there was no one in sight. Only the lonely yellow glow of a streetlamp stretched across the empty street, casting long shadows around the two of you.

When he flipped your panties aside, you instinctively tried to close your legs, but a startled gasp escaped your lips as his palm suddenly came down against your inner thigh with a sharp smack, the sting urging your legs back open for him.

“Open up for me, baby. Let me taste your little pussy,” he murmured, giving your thigh another light tap as he silently coaxed you to spread yourself wider.

You were getting wetter, but the thought of someone's tongue directly against your pussy was beyond your virgin imagination.

When you still didn't move, a quiet chuckle rumbled in his chest.

You felt him rise behind you, the warmth of his body disappearing for only a brief moment before the unmistakable click of metal made your breath hitch. Before you even had the chance to turn your head, the cold barrel of the gun was pressed against your temple.

A broken cry caught in your throat, your entire body trembling. 

“W-What-”

"Spread your legs."

His voice was firm, leaving no room for hesitation. The barrel pressed more insistently against your temple, and with another shaky sob, your knees slowly fell farther apart.

A satisfied hum vibrated from his chest. Only then did he pull the gun away, tucking it back into the holster at the back of his belt before lowering himself between your thighs once more. His hands wrapped around them, holding you open exactly how he wanted, and the moment he buried his face between your legs, a deep groan escaped him.

“Oh, gosh!” you moaned.

You were already leaking, his broad tongue dragged slowly up and down your chubby, swollen folds before slipping between them, teasing your slit as it delved deeper, massaging your inner walls with slow, deliberate strokes that only left you wetter.

“Pretty.” he leaned back and spat onto your cunt, watching the thick strand of saliva mingle with your slick wetness. “Do you regret what you did, baby?”

His fingers hooked beneath your outer lips, spreading them apart just enough to watch his saliva disappear deeper into your cunt. He spat again, his gaze fixed on the way it slipped between your folds, leaving your sensitive inner walls glistening.

“Y-Yes,” you moaned shamelessly, the torture only making you wetter.

“Would you let me do anything I want?” he asked, staring at your fluttering cunt.

You bit your lip, feeling your milky juices drip from every degrading thing he'd been saying to you.

“Yes.” you said in a tiny voice.

He chuckled, “You wanted to be used like this, didn't you?” 

He leaned in, his tongue flattening as he licked from your perineum to your clit in one slow, vulgar stroke, spreading his spit until his own drool began to trail down his chin. 

“You wanted this…you sat on my lap, ground your filthy cunt against my cock, acted like a good little decoy so you could rob me. But your hole's been thanking me the whole time, hasn't it?”

You shut your eyes tightly when you felt him continuously spitting on your cunt, your pussy was getting so wet that you felt it dripping on your inner thighs down to your ankles.

He held your folds apart, leaving you completely exposed for his hungry gaze. Leaning back, he watched the way they trembled and pulsed beneath his eyes before leaning down again, his tongue already darting out to lap up every drop of your juices. Each time he swallowed, he would only spit over you again, coating you until you were slick enough for him to start all over.

Your eyes widened as the muzzle of the gun pressed against your inner thigh, cool, unforgiving steel sending a shiver through your body. It slowly slid higher until it settled against your entrance, the tip quickly growing slick with your wetness.

"O-Officer—"

“Shh, you wanted me to catch you, didn’t you? To rape your thief little pussy.” he mocked, his eyes fixed on the way the tip of the gun glistened with your milky juices as he slowly dragged it up and down your chubby slit.

Desperation was a frightening thing. 

It stripped away reason piece by piece until all that remained was the helpless anticipation of whatever came next.

When you didn't answer, too absorbed in the feeling of the foreign gun against your pussy, he pressed it harder against you, drawing a pained whimper from your lips as tears stung your eyes.

"Answer me when I'm talking to you," he said firmly, applying just a little more pressure.

"Y-Yes," you whimpered.

He tilted his head. "Yes, what?"

You bit your lip. "Y-Yes, O-Officer."

He hummed in approval before pulling the gun away. His tongue darted out to taste the tip, sucking your wetness from the cold metal before releasing it with a soft pop.

A low groan rumbled from his chest as he buried himself between your thighs once more, diving back into your exposed pussy with relentless hunger. The obscene sounds of slurping, sucking, and the occasional spit echoed through the place, each one making you feel weaker, more helpless beneath him.

You bit down hard on your lip as you felt your orgasm creeping closer. You tried to hold it back, to keep control, but your body betrayed you. 

Every flick of his tongue, every slow suck, every warm trail of spit sent another wave of pleasure crashing through you, making your pussy convulse beneath his tongue. 

“F-Fuck-” you whimpered.

Your thighs trembled uncontrollably, your arms ached against the restraints, and your eyes rolled back as the pulsing sensation deep within you grew stronger with every passing second. You wanted to pull away from his mouth, to escape the overwhelming pleasure, but his grip remained firm, holding you exactly where he wanted as he sucked out every last tremor, refusing to let you move even as the overstimulation left your body trembling.

“Mhm, you taste so good, baby,” he whispered, leaning back just enough to pinch your folds together, as though squeezing every last drop of your milky white juices from your pussy before leaning in again to catch it on his tongue.

A helpless whimper escaped your lips. Your legs were on the verge of giving out beneath you, your arms still held captive by the restraints while your pussy throbbed with overwhelming sensitivity. As he rose to his feet, his palm landed against your cunt in a careless slap, making you flinch before he lazily wiped the sheen of your juices from the corner of his mouth.

His hand found your hair again, fingers threading through the strands before tightening into a firm fist. He tugged until your head tipped back, exposing the line of your throat, and his lips brushed against your tear-dampened cheek.

“Wanna steal more, baby?”

His grip twisted tighter, pulling your head back until your neck arched painfully. 

He slowly dragged his tongue along the salty trail of your tears, licking your cheek with slow strokes, savoring the taste of your cries as another quiet hum of approval rumbled in his chest.

You whimpered, your body trembling as you felt the hard outline of his clothed bulge press against the plush of your ass. He slowly ground his erection against you, a low grunt vibrating beneath your ear while his hand kept a firm hold on your hair, tugging your head back just enough for him to suck and leave harsh bites along your neck.

“What do you want, baby?” he whispered, grinding his cock more firmly against your bare ass. “My money? My jewelry?”

“O-Officer-”

His fist tightened in your hair, forcing another helpless whimper from your lips as he dragged his tongue along your throat, feeling the way you swallowed hard beneath him. “You wanted all of it, didn't you?”

His teeth sank into your neck once more as his clothed bulge rutted harder against the cleft of your ass, the seam of his pants catching against your skin with every slow roll of his hips. At the same time, his free hand slipped beneath your dress, yanking the fabric higher before grabbing a full handful of your bare ass, his fingers digging into the soft flesh hard enough to leave bruises.

"My pretty, pretty thief," he praised, pressing a kiss to your cheek as his hips rolled against you with even more force.

He wrenched his pants open just enough for his hard cock to spring free, the heated length slapping against one ass cheek before the other. Pre-cum glistened over the swollen tip as he slowly ground the shaft along the plush curve of your ass, coating your skin with every deliberate roll of his hips.

"Feel that? I'm so hard for you, baby."

A helpless mewl slipped past your lips as you weakly shook your head, your entire body trembling while he continued rubbing against your ass.

“Fuck, you make me so fucking horny.” he grunted.

Your cheeks burned crimson, the same flush spreading across your neck, and another whimper escaped you when he suddenly jerked your head back by the hair. 

"Grind back, baby, or I'll fuck this tight little ass of yours."

You cried harder, your body trembling as you reluctantly began to move your ass against his cock. A deep groan escaped him, his right hand settling firmly on your hip as he looked down, watching the way his hard length slid slowly through the cleft of your ass with every hesitant grind.

He spat over the curve of your ass for added lubrication, and a helpless cry caught in your throat when you felt the warm saliva land against your puckered rim. Despite the humiliation, your pussy only grew wetter.

His tattooed hand suddenly snaked around your waist, trailing lower until it reached your cunt. You gasped as his fingers cupped your pussy before hooking between your folds, spreading your lips apart into a lewd V-shape for him to admire.

“Look down and watch your clit, baby.” he rasped, tilting your head down so your gaze fell between your legs.

“P-Please...” you croaked, your body growing weaker by the second, your pussy aching for more even as the rest of you threatened to give out.

“Wanna be fucked so bad, huh?”

You gasped as his middle finger suddenly pushed between the V-shaped hold of his fingers, slipping inside your tight cunt. Your walls fluttered helplessly around the thick digit as he slowly worked it deeper.

“Oh! Mhmp!” you screamed.

His cock left your ass, the slick tip dragging slowly down until it notched against your entrance, smearing pre-cum and his spit over your swollen folds.

“Gonna fuck you good, baby…you’ve been a very bad girl.” he yanked your hair, tilting your head back as his tongue traced a slow path from your neck to the shell of your ear. “Need to fuck some sense into you, hmm?’’

“Mhmp!” you whimpered.

“Shh... moan for me, baby. It'll feel good.” his finger pressed deeper one last time, stretching your walls before he slowly withdrew it. The emptiness lasted only a heartbeat before he replaced it with the thick, leaking head of his cock, nudging its way against your entrance.

“Ahhh!” you screamed at the sudden stretch, his thick cock forcing its way into your tight pussy until you could feel every pulsing vein dragging against your walls as he pushed deeper.

He thrust halfway, then stopped, watching your cunt spasm around him, a thin ribbon of milky white release clinging to his shaft like a ring. 

“Fuck, you’re so tight.” he slowly pulled back before driving into you harder, bottoming out in one deep thrust, his pelvis slamming against your ass hard enough to make the fence rattle.

“Need to use this cunt every day. Maybe I’ll let my comrades fuck this tight little cunt so they can loosen you up for me, yeah?” he grunted, pushing even deeper until his balls rested snug against your cunt, the coarse hair at the base of his cock brushing against the curve of your ass with every shallow grind.

“U-Ugh, p-please...” you screamed, trying to wriggle, but he only answered with a low grunt against your ear. Then, without warning, he withdrew his cock completely.

For one fleeting moment, you thought he was finally going to let you go.

But your eyes widened the instant you heard the unmistakable clink of his leather belt being unclasped.

Your eyes widened as you felt him wrap the leather around your neck, fastening it just snug enough for him to tug whenever your cries grew too loud, cutting off your words with every sharp pull.

“Behave, baby.” he chuckled, easing himself inside you once more while keeping a firm grip on the belt for leverage. Every now and then, he gave it another deliberate tug, silencing your screams as his hips continued to drive into you.

The moment his hips began to roll against yours, your eyes fluttered back, pleasure blooming beneath the sting until you couldn't tell where one ended and the other began. 

“O-Oh, O-Officer!” a shaky sob escaped your lips, born as much from the humiliation as the sensation itself. Your pussy ached for more, clenching helplessly around his thick girth, betraying you with every pulse.

A quiet chuckle rumbled from behind you. His arm slid around your waist, holding you firmly against him as he circled his hips into yours, each relentless thrust threatening to lift your body off your feet.

“Is my baby enjoying this?” he whispered, giving the leather another measured yank, just enough to cut your sob short. The strap bit into the flushed skin of your throat as his hips snapped forward again, his balls slapping wetly against your cunt with every forceful thrust.

“This is turning you on, huh?”

You shook your head, but your pussy only grew wetter, your cries slowly dissolving into helpless moans as he continued to fuck you from behind.

“Want me to stop?” he whispered.

“N-No, Officer.” you whimpered, tears slipping down your cheeks as you gave a slow, trembling shake of your head.

“Yeah? You like getting used?”

He gave the belt another sharp tug, cutting off your whimpers before loosening it just enough to let a broken moan spill from your lips. Then he drove into you even deeper, his mushroom tip grinding against your spongy walls until you could feel your own milky juices coating his shaft.

"Gonna lock you up in a cell, baby… you'll be the precinct's little fucktoy."

The moment his thick head brushed against your g-spot, your entire body spasmed around his cock. A harsh groan tore from his throat as your walls clamped down on him, forcing him to pull out almost immediately. His movements turned urgent, one hand fumbling for the keys clipped to his belt while the other steadied you. Your hazy eyes fluttered shut as you felt the handcuffs finally come undone from your wrists.

You thought he was done.

A weak gasp escaped your lips when he suddenly flipped you over to face him, your exhausted arms falling limply to your sides as he stripped away the rest of your dress. Without a word, he lifted you with effortless strength and pinned you against the cold metal fence before guiding his hard cock back inside you. A broken whimper slipped from your throat at the oversensitivity left behind by your previous orgasm, your body instinctively tensing around him as his mouth found your exposed nipples, sucking them greedily while he chased his own release.

Your body bounced helplessly with every powerful thrust, like a toy being used exactly as he pleased. Your tongue nearly lolled from your parted lips, your mind reduced to nothing but scattered pleasure as his larger frame manhandled yours with ease. Low grunts and strained moans vibrated against your swollen nipples, each sound muffled by the way his mouth refused to leave them.

A rough growl tore from his throat as his climax finally overtook him. You felt the thick warmth of his release spilling deep inside your already used hole, his hips continuing to roll against yours in slow, deep motions, as though determined to push every last drop of his cum even deeper. 

“Fuck, baby,” his teeth sank into the soft flesh of your breast, the sharp sting blending seamlessly with the lingering waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

Some of it trickled down the insides of your thighs, warm against your skin. Your eyes fluttered, barely able to stay open…your body hanging limply in his grasp.

When he finally set you back on your feet, your legs nearly gave out beneath you. Before you could steady yourself, he was already kneeling between your thighs again, firmly spreading them apart as though he hadn't just reduced them to trembling. 

“W-Wait-” you panicked.

A helpless cry escaped your lips when his mouth found your swollen pussy once more, lapping up the mixture of his release and your milky wetness, slurping every drop with relentless hunger. The overstimulation sent your body reeling, your clit already so unbearably sensitive that the moment his tongue slid upward to wrap around it, your pussy pulsed against his mouth, another orgasm crashing through you before you could stop it.

He looked up at you with heavy lidded eyes, watching every twitch and shudder that overtook your body as you came around his mouth. 

You could see the way his cheeks hollowed with every slow suck on your clit, and somehow the sight of his discarded gun and badge lying carelessly on the floor beside him made the moment feel even dirtier—

A police officer on his knees, devotedly eating out the very thief he had caught.

Only when he was satisfied did he rise to his feet. His hand slipped into your hair, gently tugging you toward him until his lips claimed yours, letting you taste yourself on his tongue as he kissed you with greedy desperation. Your eyelids grew heavy, your knees threatening to buckle again, your body barely able to remain upright.

You flinched when you felt his hardened cock brush against your inner thighs even as he continued kissing you, a wave of panic surging through your exhausted body. Your pussy already felt swollen and unbearably sensitive, every nerve still humming from the relentless orgasms he had pulled from you.

As though sensing the fear creeping into your expression, he let out a low chuckle, slowly pulling away from your lips to study your face.

"Aww, is my baby tired?" he cooed, the words dripping with mock honey as he nudged your chin upward. 

You shook your head, your body instinctively yielding to whatever he was going to do next.

The corner of his mouth twitched before he bit down on his lower lip, your quiet submission enough to make his cock throb.

"Kneel for me."

Your knees trembled beneath you as you slowly lowered yourself, a startled gasp escaping your lips the moment the swollen tip dragged a lazy streak of pre-cum across your cheek.

"Open up, baby…daddy's not done." he gathered your hair into one hand with a gentleness that belonged to a lover rather than the man standing before you, tilting your face toward his groin, a smile tugging at his lips that never quite reached the darkness in his eyes.

"Clean up the mess you made, hmm? Open wide for Officer."

The swollen head nudged past your lips, and a mock-pitying sigh slipped from him as your mouth slowly yielded around his cock, your tongue flattening instinctively beneath the weight before a helpless gag caught in your throat.

"There, there," he murmured, his fingers absentmindedly stroking your hair. "Suck nice and slow, pretty girl."

He began to rock his hips into your mouth in slow, shallow thrusts, while his free hand continued to pet your hair with a tenderness so painfully at odds with the degradation spilling from his lips.

"That's it, baby," he praised softly. "Tongue flat, like the dumb, cute slut you are."

He pushed his cock deeper until the swollen mushroom tip nudged the back of your throat, the prominent veins along his shaft dragging against the roof of your mouth with every slow thrust, the upward curve making each movement reach even deeper.

"I can give you everything you want, baby," he whispered, a groan slipping past his lips as his thrusts gradually became sloppier, his grip on your hair tightening with every push. Saliva gathered at the corners of your mouth as you fought the urge to choke, wet, muffled gargles escaping your throat each time he buried himself deeper. Your eyes burned, quickly turning red as tears pooled along your lash line.

He cradled your hair once more, the tenderness of the gesture clashing with the relentless pace of his hips.

"I can provide for you... spoil you with all of my money," he murmured, easing himself forward until your nose brushed against the coarse hair at his pelvis. 

He held your face snugly in place for a brief moment before slowly rolling his hips, then gently pulled you back just enough to let you catch your breath, his saliva-slick cock dragging across your flushed cheeks.

"Do you want that?" he asked, tilting his head as he lazily ground his cock against your swollen cheek.

You nodded eagerly, your tear-filled eyes never leaving his.

He chuckled, giving your cheek a light tap with the head of his cock. "Do you understand me, baby?"

You pouted…your cheeks burning red, your eyes swollen, your lips wet with his precum. 

“Mhm..” 

“Mhm?” he chuckled.

He bit his lower lip as he stared down at you, quietly admiring the mess he'd made. “Cute.” 

Without warning, he yanked your head forward until he was fully seated inside your mouth, your nose pressed into his pubic hair as his balls slapped against your chin with each shallow roll of his hips.

"Gurk—gurk—"

You choked around him, tears immediately spilling down your cheeks, but the only response he gave was a deep groan as he slowly began to fuck your face, each thrust forcing another muffled gargle from your throat.

"Fuck, baby...I'm gonna cum."

He pulled out just enough to lean down and spit onto your tongue before pushing his cock back into your mouth in one smooth thrust, the loose belt still hanging around your neck, its end dragging through the dirt every time your head was forced forward.

You gagged helplessly around him, your cheeks hollowing as your eyes rolled back, your head rocking back and forth with every relentless thrust while he used your mouth however he pleased. And when you felt his rhythm begin to falter, his thrusts growing rougher and increasingly sloppy, he suddenly pulled free with a low groan. Before you could even catch your breath, he hauled you to your feet, one arm wrapped firmly around your body as he guided his cock against your cunt, his other hand positioning himself before pushing his hard cock back into your tight hole.

“I’m gonna cum inside baby, a reward for being a good little toy for daddy.”

A broken cry escaped your lips as he buried himself to the hilt, his body shuddering the moment he came. Thick, warm spurts filled you one after another while your body trembled from the lingering overstimulation, his hips continuing to jerk and roll against yours as he emptied every last drop inside you.

"These are worth thousands, Y/N! Oh my God."

Hanni's eyes widened in utter disbelief, her gaze sweeping across the worn wooden table as though she couldn't decide which stolen treasure to look at first.

A thick leather wallet, its compartments stuffed with crisp bills. Heavy gold necklaces lay tangled together beside matching rings, each piece gleaming with the unmistakable richness of high-karat gold. A limited-edition watch rested nearby, its polished face catching the kitchen light with every slight movement. And a duffel bag overflowed with expensive perfumes, bottle after bottle worth more than most people's monthly salary.

A slow smile tugged at your lips as your gaze wandered over Jungkook's belongings scattered across the table.

You never told Hanni that you'd gotten caught. 

Instead, you let her believe everything had gone according to plan.

Desperation has a way of rewriting your morals. It convinces good people to cross lines they once swore they would never touch, somehow making it feel like the only choice left.

He had given you far more than you had ever planned on stealing.

Tucked beneath your bed, hidden inside an old shoebox, were stacks of cash and signed checks worth enough to keep you comfortable for a long while—buying you the time to find a better path for yourself.

You hadn't even told Hanni about them.

Not because you didn't trust her, but because you knew the moment she saw that kind of money, questions would follow. Questions you couldn't answer without admitting where it had come from. So you kept the cash hidden, the checks tucked safely beneath it, and carried the secret alone.

He still hadn't turned you over to the authorities, even though it was painfully obvious he'd known exactly what kind of person you were from the very beginning.

From the moment he'd let you reach for the clasp of his necklace, he'd already known.

No high-ranking police officer—especially not a captain…would've failed to notice what you were trying to do. He had seen through you from the very beginning, long before you'd ever managed to slip a single thing into your hands.

Why did he let you?

You smiled seductively, slipping the watch and wallet beneath your dress before taking another sip of your now-warm beer, your gaze lingering on your target, who was far too drunk to notice the way your attention had never truly been on him.

Perhaps you hadn't changed.

Because here you were, stealing again…chasing the same thrill, the same rush, while somewhere beneath every excuse you made for yourself, another reason quietly waited.

Maybe you wanted to see him again.

You left the crowded club with the stolen watch and wallet hidden beneath your dress, weaving through the lingering crowd until the music faded behind you. The cool night air greeted your flushed skin as you made your way toward the smoking area, where you and Hanni had agreed to meet.

You had been stealing for six months now. 

You managed to steal from a shopping mall, a restaurant, a boutique, and even a high-end store—your usual targets where men were rarely involved.

Tonight, you decided to try flirting again…attempting to seduce someone despite the fact that your only experience had been with him.

Before you could even pull out your phone to text Hanni, someone pushed you against the cold brick wall.

Familiar dark, round eyes stared back at you, the same pierced lips curled around a cigarette as smoke drifted lazily into the night. Tattooed arms caged you in on either side, leaving nowhere for you to go.

Your eyes widened.

Seeing him dressed in the crisp navy uniform of a police captain stole the air from your lungs. 

Gold captain's bars gleamed from the epaulets on his shoulders, while a polished metal badge rested proudly over his chest. His duty belt sat low around his waist, crowded with the familiar weight of handcuffs, a radio, holster, and the rest of the equipment that came with his authority. The neatly pressed fabric, the black tie tucked beneath the collar, the nameplate pinned above his pocket—it all transformed the man you remembered into someone far more intimidating.

Power looked infuriatingly good on him.

Before you could utter a single word, his left hand slipped under your dress. Your breath caught as his fingers found the watch and wallet strapped against your thigh with effortless precision.

“Looks like my baby didn't learn her lesson, hmm?”

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂˚₊┈┈୨୧┈┈‧₊˚⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂

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[cherrygkoo]

정국 - RAW | oneshot

the one where you convince your boyfriend to try that stupid tiktok trend - eating sushi off his bicep - only for the sushi not to be the rawest thing caught on camera that night.

pairing: jungkook x fem!reader

genre: established relationship au, porn with plot, smut, fluff (mdni!)

word count: 8,089

warnings/tags: 18+, explicit smut, unprotected sex, creampie!, multiple orgasms (like... three), dirty talk, praise kink, degradation, recording/filming (the phone is basically a third character), food play (sushi on nipples, sushi on biceps, sushi everywhere), oral sex (f. and m. receiving), breast play (he fucks her tits and it's messy), clit stimulation (so much blowing on it, rubbing, tonguing), fingering, grinding and dry humping, squirting (she literally gushes everywhere), cum play (eating sushi mixed with cum, sucking her own fluids off him), hair pulling/fisting, lip biting, hickies/marking, second person pov, rich miami aesthetic, tiktok trends gone wrong (or right), that lip ring doing damage, "i fucking love you" ending, soft aftercare

a/n: I was in the process of writing chapter 3 for my jungkook series "purple tears I cry," and a certain sushi scene made me think of this that I just had to write a whole separate oneshot smut for it. this is genuinely nasty, please read at your own risk! hope you guys enjoy and let me know what you think of it... don't forget to reblog <3

The Miami humidity clings to your skin the moment you step out of the Uber, but the restaurant's AC hits like a wall of relief, crisp and expensive-smelling, all yuzu and polished wood and money. Nobu. Of course he chose Nobu. You catch your reflection in the dark glass doors, your teal dress catching the neon glow from the street, the silk clinging to the curve of your hips in a way that makes Jungkook's hand tighten at your waist, fingers digging in just enough to remind you who you belong to tonight.

Your hair is up, mostly, a messy twist that took you forty minutes to make look effortless, two strands curling against your collarbones like they have a mind of their own. Your skin glows, sun-kissed and dewy, and you feel his eyes on you, always on you, as the hostess leads you to the corner booth. You make sure to sway your hips a little more than necessary because you know he's watching, know his gaze is fixed on the way the silk shifts over your ass.

He's wearing a white button-up - one that should look innocent, corporate, boring, except he's left the first five buttons undone, and the fabric gapes open to reveal the hard plane of his chest, the ink that spills over his shoulder and disappears beneath the cotton. His lip ring catches the low light when he smiles at you, silver glinting against his mouth, and something low in your stomach tightens because you know exactly how that metal feels against your throat, your breastbone, the inside of your thigh. You know how it feels when he drags it down your stomach, when he looks up at you with those dark eyes while he tongues you open.

You slide into the booth and immediately pull out your phone, propping it against your water glass, angling it just so. The red recording light blinks to life. Jungkook raises an eyebrow but says nothing, just settles across from you, his knee brushing yours under the table, his foot hooking around your ankle to pull you closer.

"Documenting the experience?" he asks, his voice low, rough, the kind of voice that makes you think of hotel sheets and sweat and the way he sounds when he's inside you.

"Memories," you say, but your eyes drop to his mouth, to the silver ring there, and you know he sees it, knows exactly what you're thinking. You adjust the phone slightly, making sure the frame catches both of you, the candlelight, the way his shirt falls open when he leans back.

The server arrives with menus you don't need because you already know what you want, what you always want here. But Jungkook takes his time, asks questions about the omakase, the wine pairings, his voice smooth and deliberate while his shoe slides up your calf beneath the table, pushing the silk of your dress higher, higher, until it brushes the back of your knee and you have to bite your lip to keep from making a sound.

"Spicy tuna," you manage, your voice breathier than you intended, and Jungkook's eyes darken because he knows, he always knows what he's doing to you.

"Two orders," he says to the server, not looking away from you. "And sake. The good stuff."

The sake arrives in a ceramic flask, and he pours for you, his fingers brushing yours as you take the cup, and you make sure to let your tongue linger on the rim when you drink, watching his jaw tighten, watching his gaze drop to your mouth. You set the cup down and lean forward, the neckline of your dress gaping just enough, and you see his eyes flick down, see his throat work as he swallows.

"You're playing with me," he murmurs, and his shoe presses harder against your leg, insistent.

"Maybe you're playing with me," you counter, and you kick off your heel under the table, let your bare foot find his thigh, slide up, up, until you're pressing against the hard outline of him through his trousers, and he hisses, his hand gripping the edge of the table, knuckles white.

"Careful," he warns, but his hips shift, pressing into your touch, and you smile, sweet and dangerous.

"Or what?"

The spicy tuna arrives like art, ruby-red and glistening, arranged on black slate with edible flowers you won't eat. You take the first piece with your fingers because fuck the chopsticks, and Jungkook's gaze tracks the movement, watches your lips close around the fish, the rice, the wasabi that burns just enough. You moan, deliberately, because you know what it does to him, and his jaw tightens, that muscle jumping beneath the skin, his hand disappearing beneath the table where you know he's adjusting himself.

"Good?" he asks, voice wrecked already, ruined, and you haven't even started.

"So good," you say, and you take another, and another, each time making sure to lick your fingers after, slow, obscene, your eyes locked on his. You can see the flush spreading up his neck, can see the way his chest rises and falls faster than it should, the open shirt showing too much skin, the tattoo peeking out, and you want to trace it with your tongue, want to mess up his hair and ruin his composure right here in this restaurant full of people who think they're being subtle about watching you.

You lean back, your foot still working him beneath the table, and you reach for your phone, checking the angle, making sure it's still recording. You tilt it slightly to catch more of him, the candlelight catching the silver in his lip, the way his eyes look black with want.

"Say hi to the camera," you tease, and he does, his voice rough, his smile sharp and predatory.

"Hi, camera," he says, and then, lower, just for you, "Can't wait to see what you do with this footage later."

You take another piece of tuna and hold it out across the table, an offering, a test. He leans forward, never breaking eye contact, and takes it from your fingers with his teeth, his tongue brushing your fingertips, hot and wet, and you feel it everywhere, feel it between your legs where you're already aching, already soaked through your underwear.

"Jungkook," you breathe, and he catches your wrist, holds it, sucks your fingers into his mouth one by one, cleaning them, his tongue swirling around each digit while the restaurant noise fades to nothing and there's only him, only this, only the wet heat of his mouth and the promise of what comes after.

"You're killing me," he murmurs against your palm, his lips brushing the sensitive skin at your wrist, and you shiver, your foot still pressed against his hard length, feeling him throb even through the fabric.

"Good," you whisper. "Suffer."

You eat slowly, deliberately, drawing out every bite, every sip of sake, every moment of his foot tracing patterns on your calf, his knee pressing between your thighs under the table. You talk about nothing, everything, your voice light while your body screams for him, while you watch the sweat bead at his hairline, watch him shift in his seat, uncomfortable and hard and yours.

By the time you're full, stuffed, the silk of your dress feels tighter across your ribs, and you lean back with a groan, hand on your stomach, your foot finally retreating from his lap. He exhales, shaky, and adjusts himself again, not subtle, not caring who sees, and you love him like this, undone, desperate, ready to drag you out of here and fuck you in the Uber if he has to.

"I can't," you say, patting your stomach. "I'm gonna burst."

Jungkook smirks, that dangerous smirk that means trouble, that means you're in for it the second you get back to the hotel. "Shame. I like watching you eat."

"Pervert."

"Your pervert."

You flag down the server, ask for a takeout box, and Jungkook pays without looking at the check, just slides his card across the table like the amount doesn't matter, because it doesn't, not to him, not to either of you tonight. You pocket your phone, the recording still running, capturing everything, capturing the way he stands and offers you his hand, the way he pulls you against him in the elevator, his mouth at your ear.

"You're going to pay for that," he whispers, and you shiver, feel his hand slide down to grip your ass, squeezing hard.

"Promise?"

The hotel suite is all white and marble and floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the ocean, dark now, just a black expanse beyond the glass. You kick off your heels, your feet sinking into carpet that probably costs more than your first car, and you collapse onto the sectional, pulling out your phone, scrolling through the footage while he pours himself a drink at the mini bar, his back to you, the white shirt pulling across his shoulders, the tattoo peeking out from beneath the sleeve.

TikTok. Endless, brainless TikTok to wind down.

A couple on a beach. A dance trend you don't care about. A recipe for something with feta cheese.

Then: a girl, pretty, blonde, sitting cross-legged on a bed in what looks like a generic hotel room. Her boyfriend beside her, shirtless, flexing his bicep. The girl grins at the camera, then at him, and unwraps a sushi roll, places it on the hard curve of his muscle, and leans down to take it with her teeth. The comments are screaming. The views are in the millions.

You stare at the screen.

You stare at the takeout box on the coffee table.

You stare at Jungkook, who's pouring himself a drink, his back to you, the white shirt still open, showing too much skin, the lip ring catching the light when he turns his head.

Enlightenment.

You set your phone down. Stand. Cross the room on bare feet, silent, predatory. He hears you, turns, glass halfway to his lips, and you pluck it from his hand, set it on the marble counter with a clink that sounds like a promise.

"Take your shirt off," you say.

His eyebrow arches, that lip ring catching the light again. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me." You reach for the takeout box, open it, the spicy tuna still perfect, still glistening, and you can feel him watching you, confused and curious and already getting hard because he always gets hard when you use that tone, that minx tone, the one that means you're about to ruin him.

He sets the glass down. Undoes the remaining buttons slowly, deliberately, his eyes never leaving yours. The shirt falls open, then off, and he's bare in front of you, all golden skin and ink and muscle that makes your mouth water. You step closer, close enough to feel the heat coming off him, and you press your palm to his chest, right over his heart, feeling it thud against your hand.

You set your phone down on the marble counter, angling it just so, the red recording light blinking like a heartbeat in the dim room. You want this captured, want the lens to swallow every moment of what comes next, want to watch it later and feel the heat crawl up your neck all over again. Jungkook's eyes flick to the device, understanding dawning dark and dangerous in his gaze, and when he looks back at you, something has shifted. The playful tension from the restaurant has evaporated, replaced by something heavier, hungrier, something that makes your breath catch in your throat.

You lean in, your hair falling forward, those two dark strands brushing his shoulder like silk curtains framing the moment. You don't go for the sushi yet. You press your mouth to his throat first, sucking hard enough to leave a mark, hard enough to make him groan deep in his chest, the sound vibrating against your lips. His hand comes up to tangle in your updo, disheveling it further, fingers tightening in your hair until your scalp sings with the sting of it. You lick the salt from his skin, taste the cologne at his pulse point, the musk of him underneath, and you feel him shudder beneath your mouth, feel the sushi roll shift against your cheek as he breathes ragged and wrecked.

"You're insane," he murmurs, but his voice is already ruined, gravel and velvet, and you smile against his neck, teeth grazing his tendon, feeling his cock twitch against your hip through his trousers.

"Wait until you see what comes after the appetizer," you whisper, and finally, finally, you turn your head and take the sushi between your teeth, your eyes locked on his, watching him watch you, watching the way your lips close around the rice and fish, the way your throat works as you swallow, and the sound he makes is animal, guttural, something torn from deep in his chest that makes your thighs clench together with nothing but air between them.

He moves before you can even taste the wasabi. His hands find your waist and he's lifting you, setting you down on the cool marble counter like you weigh nothing, like you're something to be arranged, positioned, consumed. The stone bites against your bare thighs where your dress rides up, and you gasp, but the sound is swallowed by his mouth crashing against yours, the metal of his lip ring pressing hard into your flesh, cold and burning all at once. He tastes like sake and want and the promise of destruction, and you open for him, let him take, let him plunder your mouth with a desperation that makes your head spin.

"Look at you," he breathes against your jaw, his teeth dragging down your throat, sharp and claiming. "Look at you, playing with fire, recording this, thinking you're in control."

His hands find the thin straps of your teal dress, silk whispering against your skin like a secret. He doesn't rush. He takes his time, sliding the straps down your shoulders with agonizing slowness, his eyes tracking every inch of exposed flesh, his pupils blown wide and black with desire. The silk catches on your nipples for a heartbeat, clinging, teasing, and then it falls, smooth as water, pooling at your waist, and you're bare for him, your breasts heavy and full, nipples tight and aching in the cool hotel air, no barrier between his gaze and your skin.

He stares. The silence stretches, thick and electric, and you feel beautiful, powerful, laid out like a feast on this marble altar. His throat works, his hand coming up to cup you, weigh you, his thumb dragging across your nipple so slowly you whimper, arching into his touch.

"No bra," he observes, his voice rough, almost reverent. "You were planning this. Walking around that restaurant with nothing under this dress, teasing me, letting me wonder."

"I wanted you to wonder," you admit, your voice breathless, broken. "I wanted you to think about it all night."

"Evil," he murmurs, and then he's bending his head, his mouth closing over your nipple, hot and wet and devastating, and you cry out, your hands flying to his hair, gripping tight as he sucks, as his tongue circles and flicks and drives you mindless. He moves to the other breast, giving it the same worship, the same relentless attention, and you're squirming on the counter, your hips rolling, seeking friction, seeking him.

He pulls back with a wet sound that makes you blush even as you moan for more. His eyes are dark, predatory, the playful boyfriend from the restaurant gone, replaced by something that looks at you like you're prey, like you're his to ruin.

"Bed," he commands, his voice leaving no room for negotiation, no room for anything but obedience. "Now. On your back."

You slide off the counter, your legs shaky, the silk of your dress catching on your hips as you move. You cross to the bed, each step feeling like you're walking through honey, through heat, your body thrumming with anticipation. You climb onto the white sheets, the fabric cool against your heated skin, and you lie back, your breasts falling to the sides, heavy and aching, your hair spilling across the pillows in waves.

He follows you, stalking across the room with a predator's grace, all bare chest and ink and the hard outline of his cock straining against his trousers. He stops at the foot of the bed, his eyes raking over you, devouring you, and then he reaches for your phone still sitting on the counter, brings it with him, sets it on the nightstand angled perfectly to capture everything, the red light blinking like a third heartbeat in the room.

"Keep it recording," he says, not a request but a decree. "I want you to watch this later. I want you to see what you look like when you're being fucked properly."

He undoes his belt with slow, deliberate movements, the leather hissing as he pulls it free, the metal clinking as he drops it to the floor. His trousers follow, and his underwear, and then he's naked, glorious, his cock thick and heavy and curving up toward his stomach, the tip already wet with arousal, the veins along the shaft prominent and pulsing. You can't help but stare, can't help but lick your lips at the sight of him, at the thought of taking him inside you, anywhere, everywhere.

He climbs onto the bed, crawling up your body like a storm rolling in, all dark intent and coiled power. He doesn't touch you where you want him most, not yet. Instead, he straddles your chest, his knees settling on either side of your ribs, his hands bracing on the headboard above you, caging you in, trapping you beneath him. You can smell him, musk and sweat and something uniquely Jungkook, can feel the heat radiating off his skin, the weight of him hovering above you.

"Look at you," he breathes, his hand coming down to grip himself, to stroke once, twice, the sight obscene and mesmerizing. "Look at these perfect tits. Do you know how many times I've thought about this? About fucking them? About painting you with my cum?"

You whimper, arching up, and he takes that as invitation, as permission. He leans forward, guiding himself down, the hot, heavy weight of his cock settling into the valley between your breasts, skin against skin, velvet over steel. He groans, long and low, his head falling back, the column of his throat working as he begins to move.

He starts slow, rocking his hips, sliding himself through your cleavage, the friction making him hiss, making his abs tighten and flex with each thrust. You press your breasts together, creating a tighter channel for him, and he groans your name like a prayer, like a curse, his pace quickening, his hips snapping faster, harder. The head of his cock peeks out from between your breasts with each forward thrust, glistening and flushed, and you crane your neck, wanting to taste, wanting to lick the salt from his skin, but he pulls back just enough to deny you, a wicked smile playing at his lips.

"Greedy," he pants, his thrusts becoming erratic, losing their rhythm, his control fraying at the edges. "So fucking greedy for it. You want this? Want me to cum all over you? Mark you?"

"Yes," you gasp, your own arousal spiraling tight and hot between your legs, the sight of him using you, losing himself in your body, driving you wild. "Yes, please, Jungkook, please-"

He breaks. His hips stutter, his hand gripping the headboard so tight his knuckles go white, and he comes with a shout that sounds torn from his soul, thick ropes of cum spilling across your chest, your throat, marking you, claiming you in the most primal way. He keeps thrusting through it, milking himself, his cock twitching against your skin, until he's spent, until he's trembling above you, his chest heaving, sweat gleaming on his inked shoulders.

The silence that follows is broken only by your ragged breathing, by the wet sounds of him still sliding against your cum-slicked skin. He looks down at you, at the mess he's made of you, and his eyes flash with something dark and satisfied, something possessive.

"Beautiful," he whispers, his hand coming down to smear the evidence of his pleasure across your breasts, your nipples, making you glisten with him. "So fucking beautiful."

He reaches over to the takeout box still sitting on the counter, forgotten until now, and retrieves another piece of spicy tuna, the fish still cool, still perfect. He brings it to your chest, and you watch, breathless, as he places it carefully on top of your nipple, the sushi resting there like an offering, like sacrilege.

He bends his head, his eyes locked on yours, and takes the sushi between his teeth, his tongue dragging across your nipple as he does, hot and wet and filthy, sucking the fish and your flesh together, the combination of sensations making you cry out, making your back arch off the bed. He chews slowly, savoring, his hand coming up to palm your other breast, his thumb circling your nipple, spreading his own release across your skin in obscene patterns.

When he swallows, he surges up, his mouth crashing against yours with a ferocity that steals your breath, his tongue thrusting deep, sharing the taste of tuna and salt and him, his teeth catching your lower lip, the metal of his piercing dragging against your sensitive flesh. He kisses you like he's starving, like he wants to consume you whole, like the camera isn't even there, like the world has narrowed down to just this, just you, just the wet heat of his mouth and the weight of his body pressing you into the mattress.

"Mine," he growls against your lips, the word vibrating through your chest, through your bones. "Say it."

"Yours," you gasp, your hands gripping his shoulders, your nails digging crescents into his inked skin. "I'm yours, Jungkook, I'm-"

He cuts you off with another kiss, deeper, harder, his hand sliding down your body, beneath the silk of your dress still pooled at your waist, finding where you're wet and aching and ready, and you know this is only the beginning, know that the night is long and the camera is still rolling and he's nowhere near finished with you.

He pulls back from the kiss with a wet, filthy sound that echoes in the quiet room, his eyes dark and glittering with intent. His hand is still between your legs, his fingers spreading your wetness in slow, teasing circles, and you arch into his touch, desperate, needy, your hips rolling to chase more friction.

"Give me the phone," he commands, his voice rough as gravel, as velvet, as something dangerous wrapped in silk.

You reach for it with trembling fingers, the device still warm from where it sat recording, and you hand it to him, your breath catching as he takes it, as he adjusts the angle, as he points the lens down at you like he's directing a film where you're the only star.

"Look at you," he murmurs, the camera capturing everything, capturing the flush spreading down your chest, the way your breasts rise and fall with each ragged breath, the sheen of sweat and his release still glistening on your skin. "Look at this fucking body. Do you see what I see? Do you see how perfect you are?"

He shifts back on his knees, the mattress dipping beneath his weight, and he hooks his fingers in the silk of your dress still pooled at your waist. He pulls slowly, agonizingly slowly, the fabric sliding down your hips, your thighs, leaving you completely bare, completely exposed to the lens, to his gaze, to the hungry darkness in his eyes.

"Spread your legs," he orders, and you do, your knees falling open, your thighs trembling as the cool hotel air hits your heated core. You feel exposed, vulnerable, the camera recording every inch of you, the way your pussy glistens with arousal, swollen and pink and aching for him. He zooms in, the lens close enough to capture the details, the way you pulse with need, the way your thighs are already shaking with anticipation.

"Beautiful," he breathes, the word almost reverent, almost profane. "Look at this pretty pussy. So wet for me. So fucking ready."

He sets the phone down on the mattress, angled up at you both, the red light blinking steady and watchful. But then he's reaching for your hand, pulling you up, placing the device in your trembling grip.

"Hold it," he instructs, his voice dropping lower, filthier, his eyes locked on yours with a command that brooks no argument. "Record me. Don't you dare stop filming, understand? I want you to capture every second of this. I want you to watch later and see exactly what you do to me."

You nod, your throat too tight to speak, and you angle the camera down, your fingers shaking as you focus the lens on him, on where he's settling between your thighs like he belongs there, like he's coming home.

He looks up at you through his lashes, that silver lip ring catching the light, and he knows, he always knows what that piece of metal does to you. He runs his tongue over it slowly, deliberately, letting you watch the way it moves, the way it glints, and your breath hitches because you can feel it already, can imagine the cool metal against your overheated flesh.

"You like this?" he asks, his voice a purr, a promise, a threat. "You like watching me? Like knowing I'm about to wreck you with this mouth?"

"Yes," you whimper, the camera trembling in your grip as you hold it steady, as you capture every moment.

He starts at your knee, his mouth hovering, his breath hot against your skin. He blows, a gentle stream of air that makes you gasp, makes your leg jerk in his grip. He holds you steady, his fingers digging into your thigh, and he drags his lips up, up, not touching, just breathing, just letting you feel the ghost of him, the promise of him.

He reaches the crease where your thigh meets your hip and he pauses, his eyes flicking up to the camera, to you, holding your gaze as he blows again, right there, right where you're throbbing, where you're aching, where you're dripping for him.

"Please," you beg, your voice breaking, the camera shaking in your hand. "Please, Jungkook, please touch me-"

"Shh," he soothes, his breath washing over your clit, hot and cool and devastating. "I've got you. Be patient, pretty girl. Be good."

He blows again, directly on your clit this time, the sensation shocking, electric, making you cry out, your hips bucking off the mattress. He holds you down with one hand on your stomach, pinning you, controlling you, and he leans closer, closer, until you can feel his breath fluttering against your most sensitive flesh, until you're trembling, until you're sobbing with need.

"Look at the camera," he commands, his voice vibrating against your thigh. "Don't look at me. Look at the lens. Show them how pretty you are when you're desperate."

You force your eyes up, staring into the small black circle of the phone's camera, your vision blurred with tears, your mouth open, your chest heaving. You look wrecked, you know you do, you can see your reflection in the dark screen, can see the way your hair is tangled and wild, the way your lips are swollen and red, the way your body is flushed pink with arousal.

"Good girl," he praises, and then he finally, finally, touches you.

His tongue drags through your folds in one long, slow stroke, hot and wet and perfect, and you scream, the sound tearing from your throat, your hips bucking against his mouth. He groans against you, the vibration sending sparks up your spine, and he does it again, and again, lapping at you like he's starving, like he wants to taste every drop of your arousal, like he could spend hours here, drowning in you.

He focuses on your clit, circling it with the flat of his tongue, then the tip, then flicking it, relentless, merciless, driving you higher and higher until you're panting, until you're chanting his name like a prayer, like a curse, until your thighs are trembling on either side of his head.

"So fucking loud," he murmurs against you, the words muffled, filthy. "Let them hear you. Let the whole fucking hotel hear what I'm doing to you."

He pulls back just enough to speak, his chin glistening with your arousal, his eyes dark and wild. "Keep recording. Don't you dare stop."

You nod frantically, your hand cramping around the phone, but you hold it steady, you keep the lens focused on him, on where he's watching you with predatory intensity.

He slides one finger inside you, slow and deliberate, curling it to find that spot that makes your vision white out, and you moan, long and loud, unable to help yourself. He adds a second finger, stretching you, filling you, and he starts to pump them in and out, his wrist twisting, his knuckles dragging against your walls in a way that makes you see stars.

"More," you gasp, your head falling back, but he clicks his tongue, sharp and reprimanding.

"Eyes on the camera," he reminds you, his voice stern, commanding. "Look at me through the lens. Show me that pretty face."

You force your head up, your neck trembling with the effort, and you stare into the camera, your eyes wide and glassy, your mouth open as you pant. He adds a third finger, the stretch burning so perfectly you sob, your hips rolling to meet his thrusts, and he starts rubbing your clit with his other hand, circling it in tight, relentless patterns while his fingers work inside you, while he crooks them to hit that spot, that perfect spot, over and over and over.

"You're taking three fingers so well," he praises, his voice dripping with filth, with pride. "Look at you, stuffed full, dripping down my hand. You love this, don't you? Love being watched, love being used, love being my little porn star."

"Yes," you cry out, the camera shaking as your orgasm builds, coiling tight and hot in your belly. "Yes, yes, Jungkook, please, I'm gonna-"

"Not yet," he cuts you off, his fingers stilling, his hand pulling away from your clit, leaving you hovering on the edge, desperate and whining. "Not until I say. Keep holding that camera. Keep recording. I want to see your face when you cum all over my tongue."

He dives back in, his mouth replacing his fingers, his tongue thrusting inside you, fucking you with wet heat while his thumb presses hard against your clit, rubbing in furious circles. The dual sensation is too much, overwhelming, devastating, and you're screaming now, loud and unrestrained, your voice raw as you chant his name, as you beg, as you plead for release.

"Jungkook, please, please, I can't, I need to-"

"Cum," he commands, the word vibrating against your core. "Cum for me now. Let me taste it. Let me drink you down."

He sucks your clit into his mouth, the metal of his lip ring pressing hard against the sensitive bud, and you break. Your orgasm crashes through you like a wave, like a storm, like something violent and beautiful and earth-shattering. Your back arches off the bed, your thighs clamping around his head, your hand spasming around the phone as you cry out, loud and broken and his, completely his.

He doesn't stop. He keeps licking, keeps sucking, drawing out your pleasure until you're shaking, until you're sobbing, until you're pushing at his shoulders because it's too much, too sensitive, too everything.

He finally pulls back with a wet, obscene sound, his chin dripping with your release, his eyes dark and satisfied and wild. He looks at the camera, looks directly into the lens where you're still recording, still capturing every filthy moment, and he licks his lips, slow and deliberate, savoring your taste.

"Delicious," he murmurs, the word dripping with innuendo, with promise. "My favorite meal."

He crawls up your body, his skin hot against yours, his mouth finding yours in a kiss that tastes like you, like him, like everything dirty and perfect and yours. The camera is still recording, still capturing, still blinking its red light in the dark room, and you know, you know this is a night you'll be watching back for years, a night that will never stop making you blush, making you ache, making you want.

"Good girl," he whispers against your lips, his hand tangling in your hair, his body heavy and warm above you. "You did so well. You held it the whole time."

He takes the phone from your trembling grip, checks the recording, a smug, satisfied smile playing at his lips. "Perfect angle. Look at you, pretty thing. Look how beautiful you are when you cum."

He shows you the screen, and you watch yourself, watch your face contort with pleasure, watch your body arch and shake, and you feel the heat crawl up your neck even as you feel yourself getting wet again, already wanting more, already wanting everything he has to give.

He pulls you up, his hands rough at your waist, flipping you until you're straddling him, your knees bracketing his hips, your hands braced on his inked chest. The sweat-slick slide of your skin against his is electric, devastating, and you can feel him hard and thick beneath you, pressing against your thigh, leaving wet trails of pre-cum against your skin.

"Come here," he growls, his hand fisting in your hair, pulling you down until your mouths crash together, teeth clicking, tongues tangling in a messy, desperate dance. He tastes like you, like sake, like the lingering spice of tuna and salt and sex, and you moan into his mouth, your hips rolling instinctively, grinding your soaked core against his rigid length.

"Fuck," he breathes against your lips, his hips bucking up to meet you, the friction making you both gasp. "Fuck, baby, you feel so good."

You reach for the takeout box still within arm's reach, your fingers trembling as you unwrap another piece of spicy tuna, the fish cool and glistening in the dim light. You break the kiss, sitting back on your heels, and his eyes track your movements, dark and questioning, until you lean forward and place the sushi directly on his nipple, the pink flesh peeking through the dark ink of his chest tattoo.

"Christ," he hisses, his head falling back against the pillows, his throat working as you bend down, your hair creating a curtain around you both.

You take the sushi between your teeth first, biting down, the flavor bursting across your tongue, but then you keep going, your mouth closing over his nipple, sucking hard, laving it with your tongue, the combination of cool fish and hot skin making him arch off the bed, his hand flying to your head, gripping tight.

"Oh fuck," he groans, long and low, the sound vibrating through his chest into your mouth. "Oh fuck, baby, fuck-"

You suck harder, your teeth grazing the sensitive flesh, and he cries out, his hips jerking up, his cock sliding through your folds, bumping against your clit with each thrust of his hips. You release his nipple with a wet pop, looking up at him through your lashes, your lips swollen and glistening.

"You like that?" you purr, your voice dripping with filth, with power. "Like me eating off you? Like being my plate, my meal?"

"Yes," he pants, his eyes blown wide, his chest heaving. "Fuck yes, anything, everything-"

You start grinding in earnest, rolling your hips, sliding your soaked pussy along the length of his cock without letting him inside, teasing, torturing, your clit dragging against his rigid shaft with every movement. The friction is delicious, maddening, and you're both moaning, the sounds filling the room, raw and unfiltered.

"Oh fuck, baby," he chants, his hands gripping your waist, your hips, guiding your movements, his fingers digging in hard enough to bruise. "Oh fuck, just like that, just like that-"

You lean down, your breasts pressing against his chest, your mouth at his ear. "Feel how wet I am?" you whisper, your voice a dirty secret. "Feel how much I need you? I've been dripping for you all night, Jungkook. All fucking night."

"Shit," he groans, his hips stuttering, losing their rhythm. "Shit, you're gonna make me cum like this, make me-"

He reaches for the phone, his hand trembling as he angles it up at you, capturing the way you move above him, the way your body undulates like a wave, like something primal and ancient and devastatingly beautiful.

"Look at this," he murmurs, his voice wrecked, his eyes flicking between the screen and your face. "Look at you, grinding on me like a little slut, so desperate for it. You want this cock, baby? Want me to fill you up?"

"Yes," you whine, your movements becoming erratic, desperate. "Please, please, I need it, need you inside-"

He drops the phone to the mattress, the camera still recording, still capturing everything, and he grips your hips hard, lifting you, positioning you above him. You reach between your bodies, your hand wrapping around his thick length, guiding him to your entrance, and you sink down slowly, inch by inch, your head falling back, your mouth open in a silent scream as he stretches you, fills you, completes you.

"Fuck," you gasp, your hands braced on his chest, your nails digging crescents into his skin. "Oh fuck, Jungkook, you're so big, so-"

"Move," he commands, his voice guttural, his hands guiding your hips. "Ride me, baby. Show me how good you are."

You start to move, rolling your hips in slow, deliberate circles, feeling every inch of him drag against your walls, hitting places that make your vision blur. He keeps one hand on your hip, guiding you, controlling the pace, while the other reaches for your breast, palming the heavy weight, his thumb dragging across your nipple.

"The sushi wasn't the rawest thing tonight," he breathes, his eyes locked on yours, dark and possessive. "This is. You and me, like this, nothing between us. Just raw, filthy fucking."

You moan, your movements speeding up, your hips snapping down harder, taking him deeper, until he's hitting your cervix with each thrust, the stretch bordering on pain but feeling so perfect you can't stop. He grabs the phone again, angling it up at you, capturing your face contorted with pleasure, your breasts bouncing with each movement, the place where your bodies join, wet and obscene.

"So fucking beautiful," he murmurs, his voice reverent and filthy all at once. "Look at you, taking me so well. My perfect girl."

He flips you suddenly, his strength shocking, his movements fluid and predatory. You're on your back before you can process the shift, him settling between your thighs, his cock still buried deep inside you, his hands bracing on either side of your head.

"Recording," he commands, pressing the phone into your trembling hand. "Don't stop. I want you to see this. Want you to watch later and see exactly how I fuck you."

You hold it up, the lens focused on where your bodies meet, and he pulls out slowly, agonizingly slowly, until just the tip remains inside you, glistening with your combined arousal. He hovers there, teasing, and you whimper, your hips bucking up, seeking more.

"Quiet," he orders, his voice sharp. "Be quiet and listen. Listen to how wet you are for me."

He thrusts back in, hard and deep, and the sound is obscene, wet and filthy, your arousal squelching around him, the slap of skin against skin filling the room. You bite your lip to keep from screaming, your hand shaking as you hold the camera steady, capturing the way he pulls out and thrusts back in, over and over, the rhythm building, the sounds growing louder, wetter, more desperate.

He pulls out completely, his cock slapping against your stomach, wet and heavy, and he drags the head through your folds, bumping against your clit, circling it, teasing it with short, sharp jabs that make you cry out despite your best efforts to stay quiet.

"Please," you beg, your voice breaking. "Please, Jungkook, please fuck me, please-"

He lines himself up and thrusts back in, but this time he doesn't stop, doesn't slow, doesn't tease. He starts pounding into you, hard and fast and merciless, his hips snapping forward with a force that moves you up the bed, your head hitting the headboard with each thrust. He's fucking you like he hates you, like he loves you, like he wants to crawl inside your skin and never leave.

"Scream," he commands, his voice ragged, his hand wrapping around your throat, not squeezing, just holding, just reminding you who you belong to. "Let me hear you. Let the fucking city hear what I'm doing to you."

You scream. You can't help it, the pleasure is too intense, too overwhelming, building and coiling tight in your belly, your orgasm approaching like a freight train. He's recording your face, the camera capturing your mouth open in a silent scream, your eyes rolled back, tears streaming down your temples into your hair.

"That's it," he pants, his thrusts becoming erratic, losing their rhythm as he chases his own release. "That's it, baby, cum for me, cum on my cock, let me feel you-"

You break. Your orgasm crashes through you, violent and beautiful, your pussy clamping down on him, milking him, and he groans, long and loud, his hips stuttering as he spills inside you, hot and thick and endless. But as you come, as your body convulses around him, something else happens, something wet and shocking, and you're squirting, actually squirting, your release gushing out around his cock, mixing with his cum, creating a mess of fluids that soaks the sheets, his thighs, drips down your ass.

"Holy shit," he breathes, his eyes wide and wild, the camera still recording, capturing the obscene flood of liquid, the way it glistens on his skin, the way your body continues to shake and convulse. "Holy fucking shit, baby, look at you, look at this-"

He pulls out slowly, his cock still half-hard, dripping with your combined release, and he holds it up, angling the camera to capture the mess, the way his cum mixed with your arousal drips from his shaft, thick and white and obscene.

"Suck it," he commands, his voice rough, his hand tangling in your hair. "Suck your cum off my cock. Clean me up, kitten."

You scramble down, your body still trembling from aftershocks, and you take him into your mouth, tasting yourself, tasting him, the mixture salty and musky and filthy. You hollow your cheeks, sucking hard, your tongue swirling around his sensitive head, and he groans, his hand tightening in your hair.

"Fuck, yes," he pants. "My balls, kitten, suck my balls."

You pull back, your hand wrapping around his shaft, and you duck down, taking one testicle into your mouth, then the other, rolling them on your tongue, sucking gently while your hand works his length. He pulls your hair, guiding you, his hips bucking slightly, and then you pull back, kitten licking him, small, teasing laps at the head of his cock, your eyes looking up at him through your lashes, innocent and filthy all at once.

"Perfect kitten," he breathes, his voice wrecked, his eyes dark with renewed desire. "My perfect little kitten. Look at you, so eager, so good for me."

He starts fucking into your mouth, his hand guiding your head, his hips snapping forward, pushing his cock deep into your throat, and you relax, let him use you, let him take what he needs. He's relentless, his stamina shocking, and you can feel him swelling, feel him getting close again.

"I'm gonna cum," he warns, his voice strained. "Gonna cum again, baby, gonna-"

He thrusts deep and holds there, his cock pulsing, and he spills down your throat, hot and thick, more than you thought possible, more than should be human. You swallow, your throat working, your eyes watering, and when he finally pulls out, spent and trembling, you collapse back onto the pillows, laughing, the sound breathless and beautiful and disbelieving.

"I can't believe you had all that cum inside you," you marvel, your voice hoarse, your lips swollen and glistening. "That was... that was the third time?"

He collapses beside you, his chest heaving, his skin flushed and sweaty and marked by your nails, your teeth, your possession. He pulls you into his arms, his hand cradling your head against his chest, and you can hear his heart hammering, feel the rumble of his laughter.

"For you," he murmurs, pressing kisses to your hair. "Only for you, pretty girl. You drain me completely. You ruin me."

The phone is still recording somewhere on the bed, still capturing the aftermath, the sweat-slick mess of your bodies, the way you curl into each other like survivors of some beautiful storm. But for now, you just breathe, just exist in this moment of shattered, perfect aftermath, your fingers tracing patterns on his chest, his hand stroking lazy circles on your back.

He doesn't ask. He just moves, shifting off the bed with a grace that seems impossible for someone who just spent himself three times over. You hear water running in the bathroom, the sound of a cloth being wrung out, and then he's back, kneeling between your thighs with a warm, wet towel in his hand.

He cleans you slowly, carefully, his touch reverent where it had been ruthless before. He wipes away the mess of your combined release, the sweat, the evidence of everything you did together, and his eyes follow the path of the cloth with a tenderness that makes your chest ache. He presses kisses to your inner thigh, your hip, your stomach, each one soft and lingering, worshipping you in a different language than the one he used when he was inside you.

When he's finished, he tosses the cloth aside and crawls up your body, his weight settling over you again, but different now, protective, cocooning. He finds your mouth, his lips brushing yours in a kiss that tastes like salt and love and exhaustion. He bites your bottom lip, catching it between his teeth, pulling slightly until you whimper, and then he releases you with a laugh, low and warm and vibrating against your skin.

"Beautiful," he whispers, his forehead resting against yours, his fingers tracing the line of your jaw like he's memorizing you, like he's trying to commit every inch to memory. "You're so fucking beautiful. Do you know that? Do you know what you do to me?"

You smile, your hand coming up to tangle in his hair, still damp with sweat. "Show me," you whisper back.

He pulls back just enough to look at you, really look at you, his eyes dark and endless and full of something that makes your breath catch. He cups your face in both hands, his thumbs brushing over your swollen lips, and when he speaks, his voice is rough, stripped bare, nothing but truth.

"I fucking love you," he says. "I love you so much it scares me."

The words hang in the air between you, heavy and real and perfect, and you pull him down, kiss him deep and slow, pouring everything you can't say into the movement of your lips against his.

The camera is still recording somewhere, still blinking its red light in the dark, but neither of you reach for it. Some moments are just for you. Just for this. Just for the two of you, tangled in white sheets in a Miami hotel room, sweating and spent and in love, the rawest thing either of you have ever known.

[fics-lovebot]

jungkook fic recs - pt. 3

main masterlist

· · ♡ · · tysm to the amazing creative minds of the writers for giving me sevaral moments of joy reading your creations

pls reblog if you like any of my recs and don´t forget to support authors!❤️

riding jungkook´s nose - ( @euphoricfilter ) we´ve ALLL thought about this, and if you haven´t you´re lying, periodt. pRAISINGGG, he´s in a pussy-drunk frenezy, he likes feeling used, he likes getting his hair pulled, he likes getting his face wET, it´s sickenINGGGG goreaditplease

fucking in the gym - ( @euphoricfilter ) this was inspired by that one pic of him and jimin with their back out, I SEE THE VISION, fucking with ceiling mirrors

wicked - ( @noteguk ) smut, incubus!jk, big big corruption kink, lots of dirty ploting and dirty talk, yupppp this is a good one, so detailed, love me a fic that lit makes me see what i´m reading

strings attached (to my heart) - ( @jungkoode ) smut, crack, fluff, IT HAS IT ALLL, spider man au, college au, spider-man!jk x journalist!reader. READ THE TAGS BC ITS GOOD AF, bc wdym you combined sub-loser-desperate jk who also has a noona kink wITH a superhero au??? it´s like you wrote it for me,, (also, this deserves many many more notes imo)

think i need someone older - ( @redcherrykook ) smut, whipped rich older bf!jk (PERIOD!!) x younger!reader. JESUS FUCKING CHRISTTTTTTT!!! no more words needed, this one´s pulled right out of my maladaptive daydreaming folder

fade into you - ( @nmjoo-n ) SMUT, fluff, fwb to lovers au. barista!jk, possessive obsessive toxic lovesick!jk (LETS FUCKING GOOOOOO). this is a whole 2022 masterpiece, they way this is written, and the way jungkook is borderline PSYCOTICH (or in love ig) for her is so hotttttttt. deff one of my favs

this is how you fal in love - ( @jeonqkooks ) fluff, smut, angst if you squint. rockstar!jk au, est relationship. this is beautiful, a 2022 gem. love love love how lengthy and detailed this is

frost impressions - ( @fortunexkookie ) soccer coach!jk, teacher!reader, gamer au, work au, idiots to lovers, one sided pining at first, it´s a longggg one. another 2020 masterpiece, one of my favorite fics out there, he´s so disgustingly smitten with his new coworker that he ends up making a terrible first impression. so so so entertaining and fun to read, jk is silly af lmao, can´t stop putting his foot in his mouth, theres a bunch of cute second hand embarrasment situations

Over The Odds | The Confession - ( @jungk0oksthighs ) ceo jk, sugardaddy jk, jealous bf jk, sugar baby reader, he gets mad and yells bc he is lowkey insecure of her ex but reader is equaly in love. this is a series

wrong time - ( @spideyjimin ) smut, angst, dilf!jk, ceo!jk, exes to lovers, workaholic as a scape mechanism, the one that got away type of stuff but she broke things up first for valid reasons, big big heartache but she´s still the love of his life

don´t blame me - ( @ctrlsht ) sugar daddy!jk, ceo!jk, soft yan!jk, obsessive!jk, student!reader, unhealthy behavior on his part, manipulative behavior on her part, jealousy on both parts, he goes a lil too far but reader is bitchy and annoying, he lit gives her everythinggg she asks for, the man is..creazy about her in a very unhealthy way and she takes advantage of that, toxicc

failed quickie - ( @vminizzle ) cowerker jk, suggestive, they´re about to fucc on an elevator but shit happens, he likes his hair pulled!!1!

someone older - ( @bonny-kookoo ) smut, ceo jk, divorced jk, 30 something yo jk, taehyung has a kid, younger oc, its a nice read, would do it again

[missenu]

in the frame (act ii.)

synopsis: your skills as a videographer gets put to the test when your friend, who happens to be in the same profession, falls victim to double-booking. problem is, you only specialized in weddings, not adult films. despite your initial reluctance, you take the job. cue the lights … you meet jeon jungkook, a pornstar, on set — in his world. you just never expected him to play a part in yours.

pairing: pornstar!jungkook x wedding videographer!fem reader

wc: 16.9k

genre: s2l, pornstar au, smut, angst, fluff

cw: slice of life, inaccurate adult films industry discourse/depiction, emotionally confused chars, angsty n cute moments, down bad jk, big bro hobi, mainly jk pov, smoking, alcohol consumption, 18+ ONLY, messy kisses, sexual guilt/shame, virgin oc, slight voyeurism, multiple sex scenes, filming, jk jerks it, oral (f receiving)

a/n: one thing about me is that i’m a liar. muah enjoy!

series masterlist | main masterlist | prologue | act i. | act iii.

Life motto: try something three times before calling quits. After three tries of your cycling class, you knew a lifetime of a sore coochie wasn’t tangible. Gave dating apps the same chances as well and the results were as expected: disappointing, borderline revolting. You’ve stuck with some things — sashimi, 10K daily steps, and coconut body moisturizer. Thing is, everything you’ve stuck with after the third try enriched your life. If you wanted to play technicalities, you’ve only kissed Jungkook twice. You don’t know if you could ever kiss him the third time for you could only extend the trial or never kiss again.

As much as the experience enriched a part of your life … you’re ruined. Have not stopped thinking about Jungkook since that night — how his lips felt against yours: soft for the entire four second duration and fleeting towards the end when they inevitably pulled away. 

Pleasure, feelings, and work can be separate.

Right. Only for Jungkook.

Wasn’t your full intent to avoid him for the past week. Work got busy and you’ve been dealing with Mina for the last twenty-four hours, asking if you were available for a last minute project at RkivedShots. You’ve sworn to give something three tries before quitting, and while you’ve only filmed once with RkivedShots, you don’t know if you had it in you to do it again. Had Mina been a little less nice and more curt with you, declining would’ve happened quicker and easier.

Asking Jungkook for his opinion would’ve been ideal, but again, you haven’t spoken to him in a couple days. Taehyung wouldn’t be able to give you an answer, defaulting the choice back to you.

You wanted someone to tell you it wasn’t a mistake to accept the project. Wasn’t a mistake as you drive to RkivedShots’ headquarters and not some random warehouse in the middle of nowhere. Because if it were a mistake, you’d have no one to blame but yourself.

“I promise it’ll be a quick shoot! Namjoon’s trying something new and he thought you’d be the perfect addition to the project.” Mina reasoned.

She greets you again at the entrance of their company building and briefs you on the assignment.

“He wanted to title it ‘vanilla’ … with a vanilla ice cream emoji next to it.”

Your mind wanders to the endless possibilities. Were the actors going to be drenched in vanilla ice cream? Worse … what if it had nothing to do with ice cream? The set up makes you question the theme even more: just a queen-sized mattress with soft yellow-hued lighting. A regular bedroom. If it’s one thing you’re sure of, the term ‘regular’ and RkivedShots do not go together.

“Our actors are still getting ready, so we’ll call you when we’re ready to shoot. Enjoy the snacks I prepared in your break area.” Mina smiles and points to a discreet location with your name printed on a piece of white paper.

You’re a little less nervous this time around after learning the project only involved a couple. Nothing better than starting off with one extreme such as an orgy to another production just between two actors. RkivedShots has prepared you well. Also prepared you for the excitement of the many amenities you’ve yet to explore. You wonder what kinds of snacks they’ve set out this time. Hands parting the divider between the set and your break area, you startle from a familiar voice.

“Pixie?”

It can’t be. Not again.

Of course, none other than Jeon Jungkook in the flesh. Or … well, in a robe. Dangerously opened, might you add.

You stand there, deer in headlights, before Jungkook laughs and wraps his hand around your wrist. He tugs you into your break area, barely catching the words coming out his mouth over the loud pounding in your ears. 

“What’s your game, Pix?” He simpers, eyes matching the glimmer of his lip piercings. 

“Game?” You ask in a stupor, having just processed you’ve bumped into Jungkook at another RkivedShots production set yet again. Seems like your whole relationship’s built on surprises and random meetings.

“Avoid me for a week only to surprise me at work?” He teases. 

“I’m not avoiding … Been busy, that’s all.” Half-truth. “Wasn’t aware you were gonna be here.”

“Could’ve known if we’ve been talking.” He shrugs, no malice behind his words. “But I get it. Life happens.”

Jungkook happened too. He rooted himself in a part of your life you’re not sure how to navigate around. He’s left you with no oars, and no certainty over what your next words should be.

“Sorry …”

“You’ll get wrinkles like that.” He taps your forehead. “‘S fine, no biggie.”

His words don’t exactly match his smile — meant to reassure you, but only leaves you wondering whether he really is alright. Perhaps things were easier when Jungkook only reached out to you regarding film.

Jungkook sits on the arm rest of one of the couches in your break area and you take a seat on a small stool on the opposite side, untrusting of yourself if you were any closer to him. His exposed thighs peep through the slit and if it opened a little more … alright, it’s nothing you haven’t seen before. But it still makes you swallow thickly, eyes wandering around the secluded space.

“Thought you said you weren’t signing with RkivedShots. Change of heart?” He tilts his head.

“More like Mina. Have you ever tried saying no to that girl?” You huff. Jungkook takes the chance to make it known you and him were within the same vicinity with his full laugh. 

“Five years of working with her and I still find myself questioning why she isn’t in negotiations.”

“Right?” You chuckle. “Just another one-off job though.”

“Sure, that’s what they all say.” Jungkook winks. Was that what Jungkook believed after his first job? Speaking of jobs, you realize you’re both on the same set, which could only mean …

“Are you also a part of this production?” Dumb question, but Jungkook’s kind enough to grant you a simple answer.

“I am.” He confirms.

“Oh.” Your lips press into a thin line. “I-Is … would that be weird for you?”

“Would that be weird for you?” He parrots with his arms crossed, and your eyes drop to his chest.

“A little? I mean, we didn’t know each other the first time on set.”

He stares and exhales through his nose. “We’ll be fine, P. Just gotta separate things, remember? A job’s a job.” He reminds.

You and Jungkook fall into regular conversation. He asks about your schedule for the upcoming month, then you ask what he’s planning to eat for dinner, to which he questions whether that was your way of asking him out for dinner. Wasn’t your intention at all, but food with Jungkook sounds nice. The potential plan gets shot down when he tells you he already has other plans tonight. 

He looks at his watch and sighs. “I gotta head back to the makeup chair. Stella’s gonna throw a fit.”

You’re reminded in just a few moments, you’ll be filming your friend fucking another person. It doesn’t sit right with you, but like Jungkook said … a job is a job — you can separate your feelings. 

You have to.

Following closely behind him, you fall into your usual habit of overthinking, questioning if you can actually do this. There’s no denying your crush on Jungkook, but you were not ready to make it known — not ready to complicate the situation or relationship you’ve barely started with him. After all, the secret crush you have on your friend will crush you; if not, seeing him fuck someone else will finish the job.

Deep into your thoughts, you hadn’t realized Jungkook stopped before you bump face first into his back.

He turns, “You gonna be okay, Pix?”

“Yeah.” You lie.

Jungkook reads you easily. He hesitates, but then his hand nudges yours, and his pinkie hooks onto yours. You don’t move away.

“It’s not an orgy at least.” Jungkook tries to joke.

Yeah, it’s not an orgy. No, far worse. It’s Jungkook with someone else. Will it always feel like this?

“I suppose.” You reply. Feeling guilty for the damper mood, you try to joke too. “As long as you aren’t doused in vanilla ice cream or something.”

“God, I hope not. Namjoon’s done too much in the food category.”

“Oh, I’m aware.” The words leave your lips before you could fully register their insinuation.

“Are you now?” His pinkie curls around yours tighter, unwilling to let go of the thought — of you. “What other videos have you seen from RkivedShots?”

You blink, heat rising to your cheeks. Flashes of his thick fingers wrapped around his manhood threaten to make you black out entirely. “Nothing else.” You stutter.

“Uh-huh, sure.” He unhooks his pinkie with a mischievous grin and takes a step back. “I’ll see you out there, ‘kay?”

“Okay.” You nod, heart hammering even after he’s long gone from your space.

Jungkook’s costar was absolutely stunning. Skin free from blemishes or scars, breasts lifted and perky, and god, does she have a pretty smile. They seem close … friendly. Makes sense to have good chemistry before any bed chemistry.

True to Mina’s words, the script fits exactly what the title of the production suggested … vanilla. Nothing crazy, which is the crazy part considering Namjoon is all about breaking barriers. He wanted a shock factor for his audience. What better way to do it than to do something conventional?

“Totally going to rock RkivedShots’ fans.” Namjoon chuckles, going over the script with you and all the different angles he’d like you to film in.

It’s a simple scene: a couple waking up the morning after their wedding and making sweet love.

From behind, the girl and Jungkook de-robe. You should be used to seeing Jungkook naked at this point. Third time’s the charm, but you don’t feel quite lucky at the moment knowing what’s about to happen. You know the freckles on his chest up to the one below his lips. They say your moles and freckles were a result of all the kisses you received from your lover in your former life. And now, you’ll watch as someone else kisses them.

This is work.

A small fraction of both yours and Jungkook’s day which has nothing to do with who you are off set.

Though, if this is purely work, why does your grip tighten around your camera as Jungkook winks and smiles in your direction? 

He sways his head to the side, shrugs his shoulders, and climbs into bed with his co-actress. You fight the laughter bubbling in your chest at the cringy lines being regurgitated between the woman and Jungkook — not so funny when the blanket slips below their waists, revealing his cock buried deep in her cunt. His mouth hangs open, a red flush spreading across his chest.

It really is soft-core porn at its finest.

Namjoon’s scripts are good, but the actors make it better. The kisses, murmurs of love, compliance to requests of reaching further, deeper. It’s the closest thing to love when Jungkook has her in missionary, arms embracing her as his lips press against her forehead. So tender — the complete opposite of everything happening below the waist.

The fucking issue is when he dares to look up at the camera — at you. Hooded eyes, mouth pouty, and hips unfaltering.

You swallow. Startled, almost struggling to keep the camera still. It would definitely capture your every quiver if you weren’t a professional.

Something in Jungkook shifts. He cracks a smile, his strokes become more frantic, causing the woman below him to moan even louder. He pays no mind, his only attention is on you and how you’re now biting down your lip.

Your eyes jump between the display screen and the tangible scene unfolding beyond it, ultimately choosing to fixate on the screen. Not only in a wrestling attempt to ground yourself, you remind yourself you’re here to work — that this is your job. As an attempt to escape his sliced stare, you angle the shot moving slightly downward to focus on his middle rhythmically meeting the woman’s. Doesn’t make it entirely better, maybe not at all, but at least you’re not forced into a staring contest with the devil himself.

“Cut! Less looking at the camera, Jungkook.”

This goes on for another three takes until Namjoon calls for a powder touch-up.

The co-actress detaches from Jungkook and scurries off to her chair.

Jungkook barely passes you and you whisper, heated and flushed, “You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?”

“Just working.” He picks up his water bottle and chugs down a good amount. All while still maintaining eye contact with your glossed gaze, like this is some sort of joke.

Thankfully, Jungkook lessens his antics. Probably more to do with everyone’s time and not at the expense of your feelings.

The final scene transitions to the woman falling to her knees and ripping off Jungkook’s condom. She kneels between his legs; consequently, so were you on the side. The camera faces her, filming every second of her fast handjob, mouth open for his inevitable orgasm.

She looks up at him, and begs for his cum before taking half his length in her mouth. 

You unconsciously shift in your kneeled position, thighs tensing — the action so minimal, one could easily miss it. Not by Jungkook. Your mouth parts, and although small, your warm breath reaches Jungkook’s bare skin. Jungkook moans, left leg tensing and shaking at the first sign of his orgasm. 

“Gonna cum.” He rasps, looking down. At you. “Fuck baby, ‘m gonna cum all over you.”

Oh, how you wish you were the one kneeling between his legs, taking his length in your mouth like his costar is now. You’re uncertain what you’d do, having never given anyone head in the past. He’d guide you, right? Tap the head of his cock on your lips before entering? Tell you how he likes getting sucked off? Praise you for a job well done and if not, you’d have all the chances in the world to make it up to him in different ways?

His costar pulls his cock out her mouth, pumping him faster as his cum lands across her face. She envelopes her lips around the tip, sucking till he’s empty. He runs a thumb across her face, gathering his cum. Eyes never leaving yours, he pulls his softened cock out of her mouth and replaces it with his thumb. 

“You make me the happiest man.” Another cringe-worthy line, but it was the last line in the script. Namjoon cuts the scene and wraps up production.

Jungkook helps his costar up first, then holds a hand out for you — the same cum-covered fingers, momentarily in another woman’s mouth. Ignoring his hand, you push yourself up from the ground. He stands there, brows twitching in confusion with his hand still extended in the air. 

You shake your head.

“So mean.” You mutter, shoulder brushing his arm as you walk past him.

The only good thing about RkivedShots were their snacks and you don’t hesitate to empty the spread before leaving. You also know this was the final time you film with RkivedShots or any adult film production company for that matter. 

Jungkook doesn’t follow you — doesn’t come by to see you off for the day, but you see him. Are reminded of him for hours in your day through the clips you edit, keeping and reserving those intensified stares for yourself. 

A small part of you hopes none of the day was an act. It wasn’t just a job and he felt something too.

Jungkook was convinced his desire to kiss you was innocent at best and foolish at worst. He was so foolish. He fucked up building an attachment to someone he knew should be kept at a distance, and now, distance was all you granted him.  

You’re upset with him and he’s not too sure why. Sure, his teasing on set went a little beyond necessary … but you enjoyed it, right? He knew he did. Wanted to show you how good he was at separating pleasure, feelings, and work. What other better way to show it than through demonstration?

‘So mean.’ Not true. Mean is ignoring his well-intended text messages and check-ins. Mean is also leaving your read receipts turned off and he isn’t sure whether you’re alive or not. A quick search on your business website shows you actively posting your past bookings … so yeah, you fit the definitions of cruelty. Not answering his text messages. Not addressing the elephant in the room — the one he unfortunately led in. 

Alright, maybe he’s to blame in all of this.

After a week of crickets, he can’t be bothered to keep trying. Communication was a two way street and his unanswered messages stopped all potential forms of interactions with you. Aside from that, Jungkook’s taken some time off from work. No, the time off wasn’t because of the whole situation with you. His profession gives him the financial flexibility to not work all the time and as a result he enjoys work even more after a period without it. 

What does Jeon Jungkook do on vacation? Nothing, really. He’s traveled where he wanted to in his twenties, so vacations are meant to just live. He eats what he wants, goes to the gym, and catches up on movies he’s missed. 

Also, fucks just ‘cause he wants to and not for a script. 

Just like he’s doing right now with his neighbor, Yoona—a pretty, forty-seven year old divorcee living the floor above him. The sixteen year age gap should be off putting, but there’s something about the maturity and wisdom she brings in this no-strings attached relationship Jungkook would otherwise struggle to maintain with someone around his age. She can’t be bothered to start over, and Jungkook isn’t looking for anything serious. She wants a good fuck, he wants confidence.

“Fuck yes, use this pussy.” She takes him on all fours, bed creaking as Jungkook fucks himself into her. He could do anything with her. Today? He’s unkind and she’s content with it. 

She just paid off her kid’s hefty university tuition ‘cause her ex-husband demanded her to do so while still milking the alimony dry. How do you go from promising ‘till death do you part’ to depleting your ex-spouse’s bank account as an act of revenge? An unfortunate, double-edged sword for her to make more money than him, but Jungkook wouldn’t have it any other way. Better she’s self-sustained than having to rely on a deadbeat man. Plus, Jungkook gets moments like these with her.

When Jungkook moved below her on the thirty-fourth floor, he hadn’t expected his neighbors to be this quiet. That is, until he heard screaming one day. Wishing he had a ladder and stethoscope to listen through the ceiling, he settled for the muffled conversation, eventually ruling as a classic case of cheating on the husband’s end. Some shit about Yoona not giving him enough attention and he wanted to feel like a man again. Boring and overused. After that night, Jungkook has not heard any form of human life upstairs. Maybe she forgave him. Maybe they moved out. Or—calling all crime junkies—maybe she murdered him.

Oh well, it’s none of his concern. 

Though, one encounter at the apartment complex’s gym, add the multiple shared glances, Yoona was in his bed before midnight. She finds him when she needs to blow off steam, whether it be from her ex or her children — and he finds her … well, whenever he’s horny. 

See. This is why Jungkook thinks marriage is a sham. He questioned the concept of holy matrimony when Hoseok told him he was thinking of proposing to Yoongi. Fifty percent of marriages end in divorce and then you’re left to deal with the aftermath. Nah, no thanks. But he’s glad marriage is working for his friends so far. 

He finishes in the condom shortly after, restless even when Yoona notices and offers to suck him off as a thank you for making her cum four times this morning. He’d take it, but a notification comes in on his phone. Yoona knew how all of this worked. She isn’t hurt or bothered by the idea Jungkook wasn’t fully present—wasn’t fully hers.

She pushes herself up, unneeding of any form of aftercare. This part felt weird in the beginning as Jungkook couldn’t comprehend how anyone didn’t want to be taken care of after sex. He’d love nothing more than to tend to his partner’s vulnerable needs. But sex with Yoona was just sex. Nothing more, nothing less. 

Maybe her expectations for the relationship had been low considering her dried out sex life with her ex-husband. Or maybe she doesn’t expect anything from a young man like Jungkook other than a good dick. Everything works out for Jungkook in the end: Yoona’s in her bathroom cleaning herself up and getting ready for work.

Post-nut clarity lets him take care of things he actually cares about. He opens your message thread and gets greeted by an image. No words … just … 

Roasted persimmons.

The plate is perched on your lap. Thighs exposed, you’re in the same black shorts he saw you in the video that one night. They’re perfect—your thighs—something he’d grab onto if he were driving … hell, as you drive. Would you let him lay his head there? Squish his cheeks between them as he eases your mind after a long day? And maybe you’d let him and all would be well again. A good orgasm always helped Jungkook forget about his problems. Wished that was the case after the sex he just had, cock throbbing again underneath the sheets at the mere thought of you. 

He missed you. Missed talking to you and poking your knowledge on film and photography. Missed your presence. Feels terrible for taunting you. Feels even more terrible at the thought of wanting you when you’re naive to all his desires. 

Jungkook [9:13 a.m.]: Yum.

The message was vague enough to deter you whether it was aimed at the persimmons or your thighs.

🧚[9:13 a.m.]: Morning 🙂 🧚[9:14 a.m.]: Long time no talk

And whose fault was that? He doesn’t reply, watching the typing bubbles fade in and out for a couple minutes. 

🧚[9:20 a.m.]: That was lame. Sorry, I’m really bad at this. Jungkook [9:20 a.m.]: At what?

His phone begins ringing and as much as he’d like to answer, he’s literally laid up in someone else’s bed—someone else’s home—very much naked. He begrudgingly clicks on the Custom Message button and types out a quick excuse, but before he could hit send, Yoona walks out in a beige pencil skirt, hair pulled into a neat bun. She fixes her earring backings, pausing as she does a fast once over at Jungkook.

“Don’t think I can go another round, Jungkook.” She eyes his covered lower half, silk sheets doing little to conceal his hard-on. Though not for her this time around, he’s not going to bruise her ego. 

“Gonna head out.” She continues. “Feel free to stick around as long as you want, but Haemin’s stopping by around noon.” Haemin … her teenage son. Yeah, no, Jungkook wasn’t going to stick around for that.

No sappy goodbye kisses are required with Yoona. No well-wishes or check-ins either. Completely different from how he wishes things were between you and him. The moment Jungkook finds himself outside her home, he immediately calls you back.

“Hi.” Your greeting comes out hesitant even after answering at the first ring.

“Pix,” He breathes, “Sorry, got caught in the middle of something so couldn’t answer your call.” He opts to take the stairway, concerned the elevators might drop the call.

“It’s okay.” You reply. “How have you been?”

“Fine.” He answers, thumb pressed on the sensor to unlock his apartment door. “How are you?”

You laugh. Soft, with a hint of remorse. Was it awful of him to assume that you haven’t been alright? That, perhaps, your misery had something to do with avoiding him for the past month?

“Busy.” You pause, hesitating with your next words. “Found myself thinking about my friend often.”

Friend. Huh. He’s not sure how he feels about this title. Then again, what other label could fit?

“Which one?” His door gently clicks behind him, lungs unconsciously trapping his exhale as to hear your sheepish voice better.

“The mean one.”

He chuckles, with little humour in it. “Sounds like an asshole.”

“He is,” on the other side, Jungkook hears you shift and move, imagines you repositioning on your small couch. “I’m not sure if he even knows though.”

Humming, he plops down on his own. “Have you tried talking to him?”

“Does right now count?” You sigh. “Okay, no more games, Jungkook.” He hates the way his back straightens at the sound of his name rolling off your tongue. 

“Look, I texted and you ignored me, P.”

“Only ‘cause you weren’t addressing the issue or apologizing. And you still haven’t.” Okay, fair, the couple of times he texted you after filming were dismissive and avoidant.

Still not fair enough for him to give up his stance, no matter if he’d happily drop this whole discourse with a single word of yours. He missed hearing your soft tone around them, and maybe that’s exactly why he keeps arguing. 

To hear more of you.

“If you were upset, why didn’t you say anything? We’re too old to be playing guessing games.”

“And we’re too old to not read the room. You were mean and you still haven’t admitted it.”

The crazy thing is, Jungkook knows what he has to do to fix all of this. He knew in his heart he was in the wrong, but it’s hard to admit it. Humiliating, even. He’s only as good as his pride and that’s something he’ll have to swallow.

Just as he geared himself to properly apologize, you sigh again. “Let’s just call a truce. I gotta prep for a booking this afternoon. We can talk more about it later. Glad to know you’re alive at le—”

“I can come help, if you like.”

You pause. 

“If you want.”

He does, that’s unquestionable, and quite obvious. He’s not as certain it’s the same for you, though. “Do you want me there with you?”

Another pause. “I do.”

Jungkook has about two hours to put together an appropriate outfit for a black-tie wedding. It’s the most excitement he’s felt all month since going on vacation. Which is foolish, considering he isn’t doing anything valuable going to a stranger’s wedding. At this point, he’ll take any form of you in any setting, even if it means wearing those godforsaken dress pants again.

You’re beautiful. Always been. Even more beautiful when you smile and throw a small wave in his direction as he gets out of his car. If you weren’t with your equipment, maybe it’d look like you two were each other’s plus ones for this wedding. He certainly wouldn’t mind.

He helps with your bags, carrying the heavier load and you let him without protest. That’s what he’s here for: just to help you. You guys weren’t dates for a wedding. You weren’t lovers — barely friends now, especially with how he treated you.

He finds himself on the cusp of an apology every single second of the event, but he knows to keep work and feelings separate. All he knows is his apologies to you in the past were not well-received. A wedding, let alone your place of work, was not the time and place. 

He makes up for his clogged up words by trying to sneak your favorite appetizers in your direction. Hard when the couple seems to treat their employees … less than employees. Your itinerary mentioned to bring your own source of hydration and food. Bunch of other dumb rules Jungkook couldn’t be bothered to follow through, because if they were strict with their employees, they’re probably just as strict with their wedding guests. And god, did they look gloomy during the ceremony and reception.

Of course, Jungkook charms one of the waiters into giving him a mini-charcuterie cup.

“Psst, Pix. C’mere.” Jungkook waves behind one of the stone pillars. Between the wine glasses clinking and utensils scraping against plates, the reception was utterly dreadful and miserable. To add onto the horrors, there wasn’t any music playing.

You look to the side and fix your camera on the tripod before sneaking away, eyes lighting up when Jungkook holds out a small cup full of both savory and sweet snacks. 

You gasp and whisper, “How’d you get your hands on these?” You moan softly after popping in a chocolate-covered pretzel. Maybe Jungkook didn’t need music.

“Employees in the back are manifesting a divorce, so they gave away a cup as a sacrifice.” He jokes. You giggle, another sound Jungkook preferred over the silence. Would add that single giggle to a playlist and loop it for hours. Does that sound creepy? Definitely better than whatever this function is looking and sounding like.

“Let’s get a bite after this is all over. My treat.” You say. Jungkook hums around a starved mouthful, crumpling up the empty cup after you’ve both demolished every single bite, even all the unfavorable treats you both typically wouldn’t reach for on a normal day.

For a wedding this expensive and extravagant, the couple ran a terribly strict program at a night meant to celebrate their love and unity. He could only imagine what the future holds for this couple if they were this rigid for a celebration of their unity. Oh well, whatever floats for their boat. He’s sure they own at least ten and never set sail.

He counts down every second of the event, holding onto the promise of spending more time with you outside of working. It’s when you both packed all your equipment into your trunk, Jungkook finally feels a surge of anticipation as you offer a neutral smile.

“There’s a diner I saw on my way over. We can go there unless there’s somewhere else you prefer.” You close the trunk to your car, waiting for his answer.

“Diner’s good.” He nods. “Let’s go.”

Jungkook follows behind your car, noting how you’d signal a little earlier, waiting for cars to pass so he’d always remain right behind you in view. He follows you through the windy roads — the most intuitive thing he’s done all month long. 

In the small diner filled with other patrons of all ages, your formal wedding attires are none of the surprising. Looking less like you were both tortured at a wedding, Jungkook slides into the booth with his hair slightly disheveled and the first three buttons undone. You, on the other hand, took out your bobby pins during the ride over, leaving your hair running in whatever direction it pleased. Jungkook orders pancakes and a decaffeinated coffee, you order an omelet and hot tea — a perfect balance of sweet and savory, because what’s a good meal if not shared?

“So, work keepin’ you busy?” Jungkook sips his coffee. Lukewarm, bleh. When you look up at him, the liquid takes immediate effect down his esophagus, setting his chest and the pits of his stomach ablaze.

“Unfortunately. But I’m expecting a slow-down during summer holidays. No one likes being outdoors when it’s too hot or too cold. Plus, not in the budget for couples to fly me out to a destination wedding.” You shrug. “You? How’s work?”

“Makes sense. The beach sounds nice right now.” He nods. “Ah, and I’m technically on vacation, so I can’t complain.”

Raising your brows, you speak around your cup. “Oh? For how long?”

“However long I want.” 

Unlike your choices of beverages, your food comes piping hot. You and Jungkook thank the older waitress before prepping all the proper condiments. The food is not of high quality, but after hours of nothing but pretzels and blueberries, this was a meal for the royalties.

“What have you been up to?” You ask, helping him slather an ungodly amount of butter on the pancakes.

“Trying to get back into gaming. Hiked last week and got some good nature shots.” He muses, cutting up the pancakes into bite-sized pieces. He drizzles globs of syrup over the pancakes to balance your butter. Pushing his plate to the center, you do the same with your plate of omelet.

“That sounds like a good time.” You acknowledge, joy spreading across your face at the first bite of pancakes.

“Mhm.” His fork stabs into one of the omelet pieces.

Silence falls between you both as you eat the subpar, but first, hot meal of the evening. Basic mannerisms called for no talking at the table; yet, you’ve hardly looked him in the eye. He should say something. Maybe start out with a long overdue apology — an appropriate heartfelt one because he cares about your feelings despite not fully understanding what he did wrong.

The wedding wasn’t an appropriate setting to talk; was a diner any better? Probably not, especially when trying to enjoy a meal. But every time he goes to swallow a bite, his throat constricts, tighter with each passing moment. Food is fighting to go down and words are in the way, trying to get out.

He continues eating; although, he’s slowly losing appetite the more you avoid his gaze, the mix of butter and syrup on your fork suddenly garnering your attention more than the man seated across the table from you. Half of him thinks, plans, and molds the perfect words for an apology. Curating something so foolproof, you wouldn’t be able to refuse it. The other half of him debates dropping the situation. Don’t try to fix what isn’t completely broken.

Instead, he buys some time by small talk, asking about how Gum was doing, to which he finds out you bought a second beta fish (separated by its own tank, of course) and named him Bubba.

“He’s pretty, isn’t he?” You lock your phone after showing a picture of the two fishes and their makeshift dividers.

Okay, Jungkook isn’t one to demand constant updates, but friends (if that’s what you are to each other) are supposed to share their lives with one another, right? In any other circumstance with his friends, they’d keep him posted on their whereabouts and small wins—losses too. Knows the silence between you two was a result of some mute animosity, but you’ve always been a terrible texter even before all this.

Not as terrible for you to keep fish-updates to yourself, though.

He rarely calls you by your actual name, but serious conversations call for a mildly serious introduction. 

You tilt your head. 

“I’m no stranger to things getting busy, but I don’t know …” He begins. “Makes me kind of disappointed to learn things about you after the fact.”

God, the moment those pathetic words leave his lips, he’s reduced to a fool begging for a hint of attention. So dumb having to ask your friends do the bare minimum — even dumber when his heart races at your frown.

Your voice sounds smaller. “I’ve always been like this.”

Great, he shows a little bit of weakness and now he’s going to be labeled as needy. Jungkook sits there, ready for your refusal — mouth agape, drawing in a sharp breath only to let out the air through a shaky exhale, no response following. He thinks your big eyes flickering over his face are making it harder to add anything else.

Lucky for him, you explain yourself further before he has to strip himself bare further. Not that he ever minded whenever he was in your company. Right now, the action carries a bit of shame with it.

“Maintaining communication’s hard for me.” You sigh. “I don’t mean to keep stuff from you. I’ll do better.” 

Jungkook only nods, content with your promise. You give him a tight-lipped smile and go up to the counter, striking up a short conversation as the cashier rings up the bill. 

Outside the diner, Jungkook is just a few steps behind you as he watches you make your way to the car, moonlight bright enough to light a pathway. Tunnel vision turned off, your skin glows underneath said moonlight enough for Jungkook’s attentive gaze to follow your every movement in the darkness. 

Then, the gravel underneath your heels crack as you turn.

Your steps grow bolder, but now you’re walking straight up to him, and for a split second, Jungkook thinks—no, hopes— you kiss him goodnight. Not the goodbye kind, a lingering, syruped-sweetened peck. But the punishing kind, where it leaves him wanting more as he’s been wishing for since the night he kissed you. 

You don’t, though, and that was enough punishment in itself.

You stop in front of him, breeze carrying your scent. “I’m still upset.” Your brows pull together, eyes wide as you stare up at him.

Ah, shit, he’s going to have to veer off from the script he curated in his head moments ago at the diner. It’ll still be a genuine apology, just not a well-versed one. Can’t be when you’re finally in his immediate proximity, and not at an arm’s length. He can feel your warm breath grace his skin, and for a second he’s teleported back to the very situation that made him you-starved for longer than he’d ever like — the very one you’re still upset over.

He inhales, “I know. I’m sorr—”

“No.” You shake your head. “I’m upset because I … I’m confused.”

So is Jungkook. Confused, because you’re both upset but still can’t help the fondness as you take the time to recount his moles — as he takes the time to count your every lash.

You swallow. “I don’t know how to explain these feelings, but I missed your company — I missed you.” The confession lands in a beat of silence too long. Heart in your hands, you continue. “I’ll try to be a better friend.”

A better friend. Huh.

He’s always in the market for friends. He has plenty of friends: good ones, ones no longer in his life, and ones he keeps for the sake of keeping. He intends for you to stay in his life if you wish to. Yet, your words burn like scalding water to the hand, unsure if it’s from the suggestion you were bad to begin with or that you only truly saw Jungkook as a friend.

Fuck that. He undoes your statement — voids it for a moment. 

Hands coming up to cup your cheeks, you’re pulled against him before you could register what’s happening. 

Even as Jungkook hovers over you, blocking all sources of light, moonlight is forever etched on your lips. So is the sweetness and everything good about you Jungkook desperately wants to savor. 

He has you now, moonlight on his lips and all.

Kissing always felt good. But kissing you? He doesn’t ever want to lose this feeling. You moan, helpless as your fingers cling to the bottom of his dress shirt. 

He pulls away just enough to speak, hoping his honesty reaches you. “You are good, Pix. So good. It’s me. All my fault, okay?” His lips brush against yours. “I’m sorry.” Another kiss. “Shouldn’t have done that at the shoot. I couldn’t help it.”

You nod, half whimpering as you kiss him back, repeating the same phrase you last said to him on set. “So mean.”

He doesn’t mean to be. And so he showers you with kisses, traps you against his car because he won’t chance the possibility of you leaving on bad terms again — a crucial moment to show you how sorry he is. If anyone were to come across you and Jungkook right now, they’d either whistle or yell something on the lines of getting a room. 

“I’m sorry.” Jungkook says again. “I’ll do better.”

Both you and Jungkook do better after that night. 

You attempt texting him daily — seemingly awkward and forced at first to Jungkook. He doesn’t allow himself to get too excited over a changed behavior early on in the event you revert to your old ways.

He tries his best to take things slow. Jungkook isn’t privy to relationships fizzling away after a short while, and is aware of their fleeting nature. Still, he hopes to build a solid one with you first regardless of his dislike of labeling you both as friends. Two things can exist at the same time … he’s just not sure where you stand in all this. Some people just wanna have fun; unsurprisingly, most people can’t envision a life with a pornstar halfway into a relationship and end up leaving. 

Here for a fun time, not for a long time.

Maybe you’ll be that for him — maybe that’s all you want from him.

Pleasure, feelings, and work can be separate.

The statement grounds him, but eats away at his core with every moment spent with you. Nearly two months have passed since he’s accepted any work. Granted, he’s gone longer without work in the past, though, a looming unease brews inside the more time he takes away from his job. Thinks he should go back — rebuild and secure his routine again.

He’ll think about it.

Time away from work is meant for living, so he relishes in your company, inviting you over for dinner to finally watch 27 Dresses. He laughs to himself after he sent over his guest entry code and you question what kind of complex he lives in to require a guest code.

He runs his wet hands through his kitchen towel at the buzz of his doorbell system, signaling your arrival. Though unneeded, he still glances at his intercom out of habit, finding you looking around the vicinity. You take your phone out from your pocket, seemingly going to text Jungkook of your arrival.

He presses on the red button. “What’s the password?”

You startle, confused. Once spotted the camera, you glare, mouth pulled into a small pout.

“Pixie?”

Funny how you think your nickname would be the key to opening the door. He didn’t have an actual password in mind; nonetheless, the name he chose specifically for you is enough to gain entry through every one of Jungkook’s doors.

“Welcome to my humble abode.” He mimics the same cheesy line you used when he first visited your home. His home isn’t nearly as humble, even with its minimalistic appearances. Every carefully handpicked decor and furniture held an air of expense.

“Nice.” You compliment, taking off your shoes. Rarely caring about other people’s comfort in his home, he finds himself overly prepared for your visit, going as far as purchasing a pair of house slippers for your comfort.

What? Just a nice gesture he does for a friend who has welcomed him far too many times in their home. And secretly, he hopes you’ll continue to wear these slippers with every future visit, the compression wearing down and shaping perfectly around your feet as time progresses. 

From Jungkook’s height, he spots a hint of orange in the small brown bag you hold from behind. 

Persimmons.

“P, you know I can’t finish those on my own.” The small complaint carries a light jest.

Shrugging, your lips mirror his curled ones. “Well, I guess I would just have to help you.”

You follow closely behind him, and he’s suddenly conscious of his home. Did you fancy the candle’s scent he lit up about thirty minutes ago? He wasn’t going to tell you he spent his morning trying to find a scent matching closely to the one at your home.

He leads you to his kitchen where he has plates of ingredients washed and prepped. Saved the onion for last because … well, it’s onions and they’re the bane of his existence. 

You’re seated on one of his high stools with a glass of water he poured. It’s weird having you in his space for once — a new type of different where he grows accustomed to the view of you surrounded by everything he loves. He chases away the thoughts of you fitting just right in.

You talk about your day, stopping to giggle as you offer to help when he starts tearing up during the onion cutting.

“You’re my guest though. Shouldn’t be helping.” He sniffs, wiping away his tears with his forearm. 

“Got saran wrap?” You round the corner, now right by his side.

“Upper right cabinet.” He answers, going to the sink to rinse his hands and eyes. 

“I saw this tip on Facebook …” You tip-toe, reaching the box and taking the wrap out.

“Okay, Facebook Mom.” He grins teasingly, paper towel in hand to dry his hands and face.

“I’ll have you know, they give some of the best advice there.” You rip away a strip and walk over to Jungkook.

“Facebook’s just for nosey people.” He’s long deleted Facebook after a nasty post circulated about him early on in his career. 

“Missing out on all the food groups and marketplace.” You stand in front of him, crowding him against his own sink. “How else do you think I found Gum and Bubba?” 

Hands coming up to his face, the saran wrap covers his eyes and nose. He jerks his head back before complying under your hold when you giggle, fingers patting the plastic secure over his cheeks.

You snort, arms crossing like you’re proud of your intervention. “There. Have a go at the onions again.”

Jungkook blinks, unsure how to properly function with his sight and breathing impaired. “I’m happy you found something great from Facebook—”

“Many things.” You correct.

“But this is the genius advice you got, Pix?” His vision goes cloudy after his tenth exhale.

“Trust me! It works.” You say with your hands on your hips.

Lo and behold, it does. One point to Pixie … er, to the Facebook Moms.  

A comfortable silence falls between you and Jungkook as he turns away to cook. That is, until the legs of the chair scrape against the floor once again and Jungkook feels your heat on the left side of his body, front brushing his arm.

“What are we having tonight?” 

We. Feels nice to hear. You feel nice next to him.

“Chicken risotto.” He replies, throat bobbing as you press your chest closer.

You probably don’t even realize what you’re doing either. Even under the food’s strong aromatics, Jungkook picks up your scent by sheer proximity. He could abandon the risotto—right here, right now—in favor of crowding you against his kitchen counter and kissing you silly. What’s the need for food when your kisses do enough to keep him fed and satiated? 

Slow, he reminds himself. 

He hums, glancing at the top of your head, your eyes fixated on the pan. “Almost done. Just gotta plate and we can eat together. Wanna start up the television? 27 Dresses should be on Netflix.” 

You linger for another second before moving to the living room. He slows his movements on the stove as he listens for his television, tense shoulders dropping at the sound of the brief welcome introduction. 

Steaming risotto plated, he expected you to remain in the living room, but when he walks in, you’re nowhere to be found.

“Pix?” He calls out, setting the plates on the coffee table.

“I’m here.”

He turns, following the source of your soft voice, and he finds you staring out the large curtain wall. This time, as he steps closer, he’s the one standing behind you, front pressed against your back.

“It’s nice here. You see everything.” You murmur. Frankly, this part of his home was his favorite. Nothing beats waking up or coming home to this view. Might argue this view was his new favorite: you looking up to face him, round eyes dancing between his own eyes and lips.

He clears his throat. “Food’s ready. We should eat before it gets cold.”

You blink. “Right.”

Both you and Jungkook sit on the floor of his living room. Risotto’s good — your company is even better. Evening’s going well and you seem to be enjoying the food. He mentally cheers in his head at a job well done.

“My university cohort group page posted an announcement for a photography competition. Not sure if you’re interested. Would be fun.” You say, wiping your mouth.

Jungkook was no stranger to competitions having entered quite a few of them in his teenage years. They were fun in the beginning when there was still no pressure behind them. Things changed as he got older and while there was no pressure, his pride was on the line. People got better — more creative and competitive. He’d imagine that’d be the same with this contest.

He shrugs. “Hm, maybe.”

“I can help if you like.” You offer. “There’s nothing to lose.”

Jungkook smiles, but doesn’t fully agree to the proposition quite yet. 

People are lying if they say it takes a whole hour to eat. No longer than fifteen minutes into the movie, you and Jungkook finish your respective plates. You offer to wash dishes, but Jungkook refuses.

“I’ve got a dishwasher for that, P.”

Brows raised, you counter. “Okay, so do I, but it’s quicker by hand.”

He muses. “Why else would we have a dishwasher if not to use it to wash dishes?”

You shrug. “Store dishes?”

He chastises you for another thirty seconds before telling you to relax and enjoy the movie while he gets up to start the dishwasher.

Back next to you in record time, his teeth worry at the inside of his cheek. He never realized how big his couch was in comparison to your small two-seater. Far less cozy than yours, but there was never a need to entertain his guests out of comfort. They never stayed long and Jungkook valued aesthetics over ease.

Now as you’re both seated on his too-big-of-a couch, he wonders if you’re comfortable. There’s enough space on the surface where you don’t need to be side by side, but Jungkook didn’t mind you being close. 

He wanted you close.

Arm slung along the backrest, his urge to touch the nape of your neck intensifies at your small shiver.

Perceptive to your every shift and need, he’s eagerly ready to right any discomfort. “You cold? I could get a blanket. Turn on the heater—”

You shake your head. The single gesture has his restless nerves calming, while the side of his leg dips as you shift your body closer to him. Your shoulder presses into the side of his chest. 

“I’m good like this.” You turn your head to the side. “Are you?”

He fakes a cough. “Yeah. ‘m good.”

Jungkook wanted this hangout to be void of any talks of film or photography. He knows you both share love for those topics … still, what else was there? He’s finding it hard to rack up any other conversation starters with you this close to him. 

What does he default to? Babble about the different film styles of the movie, even though he’s positive he’s wrong about his knowledge and theories. Nonetheless, you nod and act as though all the concepts Jungkook mentioned were something new and praiseworthy. 

He’s about to transition to another analysis of the last frame in the movie when you suddenly shift to face him with a determined look.

“Do you wanna kiss me?”

He freezes, body seizing up at your unprompted question.

“You can’t–can’t just say that.” He instinctively covers his face with his hand, can’t bear looking at you like he’s a teenager navigating his first crush again. The tips of his ears burn from your honesty and when he finally wills himself to look at you, you’re also just as embarrassed — adorably so.

“Forget I asked.” You mumble, inching away. “Sorry.”

“Wait! No, I mean, yes, I want to, just,” He stumbles over his words. “You caught me off guard.”

The movie’s long over, and Jungkook didn’t get to ask how’d you like it — what you thought about the sister’s betrayal and how he thinks Jane’s problems would’ve gone away if she developed some form of backbone to say no. Actually, he’s in no position to judge Jane. Jungkook has no backbone when it comes to you — can’t seem to refuse you. 

Doesn’t want to.

Knees planted on the sides of his thighs, you lean down to kiss him like you’ve intended to do so since the moment you walked through his door tonight.

Seems like every meeting with you has ended like this. Neither of you mind. You’re still hesitant when it comes to kissing, playing it safe as you press your lips on his, favoring his bottom lip only.

Cute. With every moment he lets you explore, you grow a little more confident in your actions. Just a little more time before he— 

“Mmp–” You pull back, breath heavy with a sheen of saliva on your lips. His, definitely. All his.

“What? Didn’t like that?” Jungkook tilts his head.

“Never done it.” You admit, voice small.

Jungkook had a feeling you’ve never french kissed before. Not an issue. His lips part, back hitting his couch as he pulls you closer. “Go on. Stick it in my mouth. Try it.”

Jungkook half expects you to shy away, but your hand holds the back of his couch, caging him in your embrace. Your nose grazes his before he feels your wet muscle push through the entrance of his mouth. Groaning, he wraps his lips around your tongue, sucking on it. 

He pulls away, “That’s how it’s done. You paying attention, Pix?” He doesn’t give you enough time to reply as he pulls you in again and you blindly stick your tongue back into his mouth another time.

Oh, it’s fucking filth.

Jungkook’s cock throbs painfully in the confinements of his pants. Doesn’t help when you roll your hips on top, seeking for some form of relief too.

And when you pull away, a string of saliva keeps you tethered to him for a millisecond. You’re saying something but Jungkook can’t hear anything through the pounding in his ears.

“My turn?” You ask.

And it’s only reasonable Jungkook agrees. After all, what’s a lesson without proper demonstration of your newly learned skills?

His hand cups your chin, fingers squishing your cheeks slightly to part your mouth.

Voice groggy, his smirk taunts you. “Show me what I taught you. You can do that, yeah?”

You nod, eyes growing heavy as Jungkook leans in. Without warning, he thrusts his tongue into your mouth. You moan, copying exactly what he did when he had your wet muscle tangled with his mouth. Such a quick learner, so keen to impress.

A minute goes by with you sucking and playing with his tongue. He loves it. Loves the way you sound—loves how you grow bolder if he reacts a certain way. His mind slips into territories of how you’d take his length in your mouth, cock growing stiffer in his pants thinking about it. You’d be just as clueless, right? Asking for guidance when Jungkook could quite literally bust a nut at the sight of you on your knees. Well, he has, but that’s besides the point.

Eventually, you both return to the normal pace of kissing, and even when you pull away, he can’t stop. Finds himself trailing kisses on your jaw, down the column of your throat.

“Jungkook,” You breathe, fingers woven into his hair.

“Hm?” He sucks harshly on the juncture of your neck.

Whining, you tug at his thick locks. “I-Is this normal?”

This? Whatever he’s doing with you? Probably not in the handbook of things to do with your friends, but alas, here you both are. 

“What is?” He asks, warm exhale hitting your skin. 

You take his hand, once rested on the curve of your hips, and place it dead center on your chest.

“This.” You swallow. “I know you said things should be separate. But … I don’t know.”

Your glassy eyes almost make him uncertain of his own strict belief. He hesitates when your fingers slip to his nape, curling at the base.

“Can be.” He corrects, feeling the hard thumps through your sweater. If he wanted, he could show you how his own heartbeat matches yours. But he doesn’t. Conjures something in his head convincing enough to slow its pace down. “It’s okay to not know. We’re just enjoying each other, right?”

“This is enjoyable for you?” You ask, breathless.

Jungkook mentally scoffs, as if the boner he’s sporting right now — which he’s sure you can feel, rock hard against your middle — isn’t enough proof. 

“It’s sufficient.” He jokes, and a playful smile spreads on his face as you lightly smack his chest. His expression morphs into tenderness. “I wouldn’t do something if I didn’t like it, P. Same needs to go for you. You are enjoying this, right?”

“I am.” You confirm with a small nod.

“Good.” He kisses you, soft and reassuring. “Good.”

The kisses get heated again, and you slide his hand down over your breast, silently giving him the okay to do as he likes. 

“You sure, P?” He murmurs against you.

Your palm over his presses harder, a silent yes. The pressure first comes from his fingertips, a tentative, experimental squeeze. You shudder, leading his hand under your sweater. His warm touch meets the soft skin of your stomach.

“Just so you know, this wasn’t–” Jungkook groans, kissing you once more, “my intention.”

“What were your intentions?” You push his hand up, guiding him to the valley of your breasts again. “Hm?” You push.

“Dinner. Movie.” He’s glad he didn’t make fun of you for your caveman-like responses a while back. He’s no better at the moment. 

His hand is over your tit now, and a light pinch spurs on a small moan. The bralette you have on is sheer. Could feel your stiff nipples through the cloth. 

“What were your intentions, P?” Jungkook asks, thumb swiping over the hardness.

You hardly suppress a whimper. “Spending time with my friend.”

That word — again, settling ickily in between you both — prompts him further. “Like this?” He squeezes harsher, knuckles pinching your covered nipple. 

Dropping your head into the crook of his neck, you whine.

“Uh-huh. Like this.”

“You’re killing me.” He hisses.

Somewhere between the kissing, sucking, and groping, you end up on your back on Jungkook’s too-big-of-a couch. Comfort was the last thing Jungkook cared about when he purchased it, mainly for the functionality and its general ability to seat and hold multiple people for multiple types of activities. This isn’t about the couch’s body count though. Right now, his too-big-of-a couch fits you both perfectly. There’s one less thing to worry about, but this small win brings other issues to light. Like how he’s somehow responsible for your pleasure and experiences or how you somehow get a whiff of insecurity.

“Jungkook.” You clear your throat.

You shake from how quick he parts from you, lips detaching from your skin, hand coming out from underneath your shirt. 

“Yeah, Pix? You okay?” He’s utterly unaware of how his looks affect you, as you drink in his kiss-bitten lips, messy hair, and blown out stare. You mirror his state, skin hot to the touch and clothes not in their original state from the time you entered his home.

Still, you sit up, pulling your sweater down to cover your midriff.

“Sorry.” You chew on your lips, noticing how this is definitely a shift from the previous activities.

Jungkook blinks, breaths regulating as he shifts up, but never too far from you. “What’s wrong? Did I…?”

There’s no throw pillow for you to shield behind. No where to run or hide. 

He’d never pressure anyone to have sex with him, but things were going well and suddenly they weren't. A part of him can’t help but go into that dark space of … was it his fault? Did he read the room wrong? Not the first time when it came to you.

Maybe his game was off.

Or maybe it was him. His profession — who he is.

He can’t help but question out loud now that you haven’t said anything.

“Is this about what I do?” He asks again, straight to the point. “I test every week and I’m all for safe sex. Or no sex too. I don’t mind us just hanging out.”

A small puff of air exits before you laugh. “I’m the exact opposite of you, Jungkook.”

When his brows only furrow further in confusion, you continue, “I am having a nice time. I enjoy this … but reality is, I don’t know what I’m doing.”

He blinks. “Okay? I never expected that of you.”

Shaking your head, you look down at your lap. “You said you don’t want to be in the position to teach or lead.” 

Jungkook really needs to be careful with his words in the future. His words hold value and they are true to an extent. He just never felt like he was forced into the position to teach you. He does want to guide you, discover and learn — all that, alongside you.

He inches closer to you, pressing a small, careful kiss on your cheek you don’t move away from. He takes it as a sign to keep going.

“I don’t think I’ve been teaching or leading you.” He replies, the pressure of his body pushing you to lay on the couch again.

“You don’t,” your mouth gets covered momentarily from a quick peck, “understand.”

“Tell me then, so I do, Pix.” His hand cups the back of your neck and holds you there as he kisses down your neck.

“Don’t wanna be seen as some loser needing their hand held, but I’m afraid I might need it.” You whine and shiver from his touch.

“Intimacy doesn’t have to be perfect.” He reasons, more to himself than ever. “Won’t hold your hand through it unless you want me to.”

You purse your lips. “I might not be able to give you what you want.” Rather, what he’s used to. Similarly, Jungkook worries he might not be able to give you what you want — what you need. And what you need is someone who’s patient and gentle. So accustomed to either falling in line with a script or fucking based on primal needs, Jungkook isn’t sure if a part of his brain is capable of rewiring for someone like you.

He wants to try, but trying comes with the price of feelings.

You kiss him, your ease and comfort slowly thawing again as you let out a soft sigh, breath fanning against him before uttering, “And what you want matters too.” 

What does he want? He’s well past the point of wanting filming lessons from you. He reached the conclusion a friendship was necessary, but it wasn’t the only thing he wanted. It’s certainly not a relationship like the one he has with Yoona … which he thinks he might need to stop if he were to explore more with you. For your sake, and for his too because he assumed you’d want something strictly between you two.

Wait, would you?

This is the fucked up part of starting stuff with a friend.

Even more fucked up for having to be careful and delicate with someone inexperienced.

For this very reason, he really does dislike inexperienced people. And yet, he likes you, a lot—more than he’d like to admit.

He’s not sure what he wants out of this. At the moment, all he can think about is what he wants to do to you.

Jungkook leans near you again, and your breath stills, waiting for what he says next. 

“Let me take care of you tonight.”

He doesn’t promise it’ll be good, not like how kissing is. Has perfected the art of kissing, but what he wants to do produces subjective outcomes. You might love it, you might hate it — that’s for both of you to find out. He kisses his way down your body, focusing a little more at your chest because that’s where you seem to react most … where he finds you softest. 

For now.

Your sweater lifts again, exposing your belly button. He kisses the side of it, and his cock twitches in his pants as you giggle and squirm. You quiet down when he nips at the button of your jeans, fingers splayed on top as he waits for your go-ahead.

“Didn’t shave, by the way.” You sputter.

“What are we, sixteen?” He jokes. He’ll be honest, sixteen year old Jungkook wouldn’t know right from wrong, and probably be repulsed only because he was taught to. Took a while for him to learn body hair was normal, no matter how much or little.

You offer a shy smile. “Just a courtesy notice.” 

“Not needed, but thanks, P.” He smirks, doing his best to alleviate your worries along with the trembles of your fingers on your button. “Warn me if you got teeth down there, alright?”

You laugh and Jungkook takes this moment to pry off your pants, leaving your underwear on. Jeans tossed somewhere on the ground, Jungkook kisses the top of your knee, spreading your legs wide enough for him to drop down between them. 

You should’ve worn a different pair of panties. You couldn’t have predicted reaching this level of intimacy with Jungkook tonight. Cotton blue does little to conceal the wet patch growing in the center, and Jungkook takes in the view a little longer than you would like. You cover your face with your hands.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?” Jungkook leans down, pressing his lips on your stomach. He feels it tense, squirming under his pecks.

Your voice comes out muffled and strained, “Nothing.”

The last time he said this phrase, he had different intentions. Wanted to show you how possible it was to separate pleasure, feelings, and work. He doesn’t think you’re saying this to deceive or deter.

“Can’t think.” You add, shoulders caving in as his hot breath warms your core.

“Try.” He kisses over your clothed pussy and you whimper, startled. “You have to tell me what you’re thinking, ‘kay?”

You nod, removing your hands from your face which ball up at your sides when Jungkook presses dainty kisses on the inside of your thighs. Your body still tenses here and there, not fully letting your guard down. Even worse, you weren’t verbalizing your thoughts as he asked.

Screw it.

He’s gonna give you something to think about—something to remember whenever you’re with or without him.

“Jungkook!” 

Your back lifts off from the couch, brows pulled together as you watch him lick one long stripe along your slit, from the bottom to the top of your covered cunt.

Parts your panties to the side and wets his lips in anticipation. You’re fucking soaked, pussy lips glistening with your arousal, all from the previous makeout session. You may not be able to verbalize what you think, but Jungkook reads the message loud and clear when he runs his fingers between your folds.

He groans at the warm feeling, smooshing wet kisses along the inside of your thigh. “Pretty pussy. Gonna let me play with it, Pix?”

“Y-yes.” Your chest caves and heaves from the pleasure, eyes somehow holding his hooded stare from where he looks up at your face.

He does this for a couple minutes, watching how you’d react when his fingers part for your clit before he scissors them closed again. Your breathy moans come out without control as he speeds up his ministrations. He spits on your cunt — lubrication not needed, but it’s something he hopes you liked.

And fuck, you do.

Jungkook said he wasn’t gonna hold your hand, yet here he was: one hand keeping your panties to the side and the other coming from under your thigh to tangle with your fingers. His thumb rubs the top of your hand reassuringly, doesn’t need words to tell you he’s got you. Can’t talk even if he wanted to with his mouth busy lapping at your cunt.

It’s good—so, so, so fucking good. He knows it by how you cry out, the tail end of your moans coming out like a question, a surprise at how good this foreign experience is. He’s enjoying himself too, eyes closing as he wraps his lips around your clit. He sucks, soothes over with his tongue, and does it again. Can’t tell if the pool of wetness under you is from your pussy or a mixture of his saliva. Fuck if he cares. 

“God, Pix, you’re dripping.” He peers at you. “So much.”

“Uh-huh.” You mewl. Your poor brain must be working overtime, unable to formulate a proper sentence. 

Your hand squeezes harder around his as he laps up and down your folds. He soon grows tired of keeping your panties parted, briefly unwinding his fingers from yours and sitting on his heels. His heart lurches at your little whine, assuming Jungkook was done or denying you of pleasure, front slightly jolting forward at the sudden loss.

Your first experience is important and he’d never leave you like this — not without taking care of you and seeing through your orgasm. Fingers hooked at the waistband, he’s uncaring how shitty of a job he’s doing at removing your panties. It’s a crumpled mess dangling off one of your ankles and neither of you are concerned enough to finish the task as Jungkook finds home again between your legs.

Naturally, one of your hands is already enveloped in his, so he takes your other one and puts it on his head. Your nails rake through his hair, settling nicely on the base of his head before you pull his face back to your cunt.

Good. He likes that. Can’t help the muffled, pleasured sound he lets out against your core.

“Keep going. Please.” Your mouth drops open at the feeling of him suctioning around your clit again.

He hums, his other free hand coming underneath to part your legs further. The pad of his thumb pushes at your entrance, not with enough force to enter; yet, enough for you to keen and grip his dark locks tighter.

He’ll stay there for as long as you want, or don’t want. Your thighs unconsciously close around his head, squishing Jungkook’s cheeks in the process. You murmur a small apology, half giggling and half moaning in the process. The couch he chose might be stiff and uncomfortable for a reason after all — he appreciates it even more when he’s able to drive his hips down for some much needed friction. 

“Koo–” A warning, wailed in the space of his living room. 

Jungkook takes the sign, coaxing you with matched eagerness. “I know, baby. It’s okay. Cum on my tongue, won’t you?”

You cry out, stomach tensing at the first wave of your orgasm.

Fucking hell, he could nut just by the way you sound. He nods, continues doing whatever he’s been doing. Keeps everything the same, up until when you start to shake and your toes push at the couch, trying to move away from him. No way he’s letting you rob yourself of a good orgasm.

“I’m cumming.” You gasp. “Oh my god, I-I’m cumming.”

He pins you down, no more hand holding, just thighs opened for him as he continues eating you out. And because it’s your first time, he’s got to set the bar high—that good head should always feel like this. Head turned sideways, Jungkook moves himself up and down, lips suctioning and tugging every part of your pussy. 

He finally backs off when your weak hands grasp his shoulders. Whether to stop him or to pull him back up your face, Jungkook moves and plants kisses all over your torso on his way to you. His forehead touches yours, nose nudging the side of your cheek. You can smell yourself on him. Can see your arousal shining on the bottom of his face. Everything Jungkook previously showed you goes out the window as you press your lips to his and stick your tongue clumsily into his mouth. Alright, to be fair, he only showed you how to handle another person in your mouth. 

Chuckling and exhaling through his nose, he massages his tongue on yours, slow and deliberate.

“So good.” He praises, wiping the corner of your mouth with his thumb. “Did you like that?”

“Which part?” You breathe, hooded eyes looking into his. “But the answer is yes.”

He laughs.

“What about you? Did you like it?” You ask. Usually so sure of yourself, your voice comes out uncertain, anxious even at the thought he of all people might’ve hated everything he’s done with you. You avert your eyes under Jungkook’s confused stare.

He doesn’t verbally answer—instead, he drives his hips forward to your bare cunt. You gasp, still sensitive from your previous orgasm.

His own mouth falls agape, then curls into a wicked smirk at your reaction. “What’s the verdict, Pix? Hm?”

You gulp, hesitate a little before you say: “Like it needs to be taken care of.”

“Can do that on my own, don’t worr—”

“I wanna see.” You admit.

“Why?” He teases, brow lifted. “Seeing it on RkivedShots wasn’t enough?”

Your mouth goes slack. “How’d you know?”

“I didn’t.” His smile grows. “Now I do.”

He rolls over to the side. Looking down, he snorts at the sight of your shriveled up panties hanging on your ankle for dear life. 

With one hand, he loops the opening onto your other ankle and pulls your underwear up for some coverage. He’s sure you’re messy from below, but knowing you, you’d probably be in your head about your lack of clothing and his lack of exposure. 

How the roles have reversed. 

You turn to face him. “It was just one time,” you mumble, sheepish.

“Yeah?” He doesn’t know exactly which video you’re referring to. Hopefully not the grapefruit one. “Good to know, it’s supposed to be watched and enjoyed, so don’t worry about it.”

“Okay …” You scoot closer, his hard length pressing against your stomach. “What happens from here?”

Were you asking about his current predicament or the status of your relationship?

He tilts your chin, going with a safe answer. “World’s our oyster.” 

“Then, I want you to feel good too.” Your hand trembles as you trail down his front, stopping just shy of his metal beltloop.

Jungkook reaches down and helps you unbuckle his belt, undoing the zipper with no struggle. Hand wrapped around your wrist, he places it behind his head. “You gonna help me?”

“Did you want me to, um,” You look down, uncertain what to do. “Touch you?”

Jungkook needs something fast. Your touch is favored, but he’s unsure how long it’d take to teach you what he fancies and he’s in dire need of a quick release. Maybe next time, if there is one. He hopes there is.

“There’s other ways you can help.” He smiles. “Take off your top.”

“That’s not fair.” You protest. “Why am I the only one naked?”

Oh, you’re so predictable. Jungkook laughs, rolling you over so he straddles your hips. 

He reaches below his shirt and pulls it over his head, tossing it somewhere behind him. He doesn’t worry about the state of his body. Knows he looks good with how you drink him in, a visible swallow before you drag your eyes up his torso and end with his locked gaze.

“There. We’re even now.” 

He decides then, you don’t even need to take off your top. Just pushes it high enough to reveal your bralette. Tucking the end of your sweater underneath your chin, his mouth waters at the sight. With all the time spent as a pornstar, he’s been faced with all variations of breasts: tiny, big, saggy, lifted … you name it, he’s seen it.

Yours are perfect on you—fit you so well. You gasp when he takes one in his hand, squeezing. Your hand covers his, while the other hides your other breast.

“They’re nothing special.” You murmur to the side.

Shaking off your palm, Jungkook leans down and places a small kiss on your covered tit. Does the same with the other one. Over and over, ‘till you’re worked up again.

“They’re perfect.” He runs his tongue over your bralette, but you feel the pressure on your stiff and sensitive nipple.

Finally, he dips his hand down his Calvins and free his cock from its confinements. Knows exactly what he needs to get himself off and knows it’ll be a quick finish with your help. 

He comes back to your lips, kissing you, whispering how good he feels. You trail down his jaw and the crook of his neck. 

“You can mark me up, Pix. Do whatever you want.” He rasps, head cocked to the side for better access.

“Won’t it be a problem for work?”

A complete misconception pornstars need to come to work unmarked. If that were the case, tattoos would’ve been long banned in the adult film industry. There’s nothing a little makeup can’t fix.

“Haven’t been to work in a while and–fuck–I’m resting.” He moans, hands going faster over his length. “Please? Come on.”

Just like his first kiss with you, you tentatively move in, wet lips smooshing against his hot skin. Your tongue darts out, wetting the area before you suction your lips to his neck. When you finally pull away with a victorious grin, Jungkook knows he’s marked.

Your eyes drop below, watching Jungkook jerk himself off.

“So greedy, Pix.” He purrs, slipping into an open-mouth moan as he moves faster.

“‘m not.” You answer, unsure of what he’s referring to.

“You so are.” He chides, his grip tightening around his length. “Watching my videos, filming me … now this? Greedy, baby.”

Your thighs close around his waist, flustered from his words. “I–” He drops his head and buries his nose in your hair. Moisture gathers from his heavy and uneven breaths vibrating in your ears, and Jungkook thinks he might die when your arms embrace him.

“What was your favorite part, hm?” He grunts as he lifts his face to look at you with hooded eyes. Jungkook traces his lips on your cheek, wanting to coax an answer out of you before granting you a much needed kiss. Your eyes widen for a fraction, teeth chewing the inside of your cheeks as you build the courage to reveal your secret. 

“When you cum.” You admit. “I love watching you cum.”

Jungkook knew he was gonna finish fast, but he never expected it to happen this soon — this abrupt. He tenses and shakes as he unloads all over your exposed belly. You gasp, fingers curling around the base of his head. That only spurs him on even more, hand moving at a punishing pace to let everything go for you.

He drops his softening cock, shivering as it hits against your warm skin.

You look down at the mess on your abdomen, eyes blown out and lips swollen from how hard you bit down on it. He tucks away a strand of your sweaty locks and presses a kiss on your furrowed forehead.

“Did you like that, Pix?” He murmurs, hot breath hitting your skin.

You nod, eyes fixed on the bodily fluid. “Can I touch it?”

He laughs. “Sure. Whatever you like.”

The hand behind his head uncurls and drops down in between your bodies. He watches as your fingers swipe and collect, drawing your hand closer to your face to examine his cum.

He thinks he’ll die if you stick your fingers into your mouth to taste him. But you don’t, instead, your hand hovers awkwardly in the air like you don’t exactly know where to place it without getting cum everywhere.

Jungkook cackles, telling you to hold still while he gets something. He tucks himself back into his pants and jogs over to his bathroom. When he returns with a wet warm towel in hand, you’re still in the same position, and he doubles over at the sight. You giggle, half-yelling at him to hurry.

“Cute.” He cleans your fingers first, then lets the cloth linger on your stomach to re-moisturize the dried up cum before he gives you a proper wipe.

“Stay here, Pix.” And he doesn’t know if he meant for the moment or for the night — he’ll go with whatever you choose. 

He cuts up a couple persimmons and refills your cup of water before grabbing a throw blanket on the way back to the living room. You’re seated upright, still in your underwear. It’s all so natural how your eyes light up and you settle next to him, blanket draped over your legs.

Intimacy doesn’t have to be perfect, but Jungkook wants it to be for you. 

Jungkook hasn’t gone back to work in the last two weeks simply because he wants to keep enjoying his time off, especially with how you’ve talked him into joining the competition. See? Can’t say no to you.

So he’s been out in different neighborhoods and parks taking random pictures. This time, he sits with you in a quaint coffee shop after a couple hours of nature shots. Photography’s fun for Jungkook until the dread of not being good enough hits. He refuses to voice these silly thoughts, letting you take hold of the very source of his anxiety, his camera, typically meant for a hobby and stress reliever. The shutter goes off multiple rounds as you capture the surrounding objects in the cafe. 

“Lemme see, Pix.” His hand reaches out for his camera.

You turn away, childish, with a pensive frown as you land on a recent picture you took. “Hold on, gotta delete this one … the lens didn’t focus.”

Jungkook snorts, sliding in your side of the booth to peek over your shoulder. There’s beauty in blurred images, similar to the relationship you have with Jungkook — similar to the static buzz in your ears as his hand covers yours on the device and his skilled fingers adjust the camera settings with a couple of clicks.

“Okay, I think it’s fixed.” He hands the camera back.

You cheer, fingertips pressing through the album for the pictures he took this afternoon. “I think you got some good shots today, Jungkook. Should have a good batch to send into the competition.”

He shrugs. “Mm, I’m not so sure. Feels kinda pointless.” There are so many skilled photographers out there. This competition is another beast in comparison to the ones he participated in the past. 

Your brows knit together. “Huh.”

“What?” His own brows mirror yours.

“Didn’t peg you for the insecure type.”

Jungkook scoffs, eyes narrowed. “Reverse psychology doesn’t work on me, Pix. I’m serious.”

“So am I.” You purse your lips. Placing the camera on the table, his gaze follows your movement and settles on the device, even as your voice takes on a reassuring, less teasing tone.

“You have nothing to lose. This is supposed to be fun. You are having fun, right?”

Ironic you’re asking the same question he asked you that night.

“I always do.” He replies with a sigh. “And I guess you’re right. There’s nothing to lose.”

Jungkook feels like the biggest loser as you smile in triumph. And while he knows you mentioned you didn’t want your hand held figuratively (probably meant as a metaphor), all he finds himself wanting is your warmth enveloping him. 

Picking up the camera again, you turn the lens at Jungkook and another round of shutter goes off. A picture’s worth a thousand words, and he wonders if these encapsulate a time of his feelings for you.

Jungkook chuckles, scooting closer to you. “Take another one.”

“You’re barely in the frame.” You pull the camera further.

He leans in, temples touching yours. “This better?”

The countdown happens with his head, the want happens in his heart. A picture’s worth a thousand words, unsaid and unheard. And this one will mark the time Jungkook started caring for someone special like you. 

Later, he drops you off in front of your building, but no goodbyes have been said yet. You tell him you’ll be busy for the next coming weeks and all he tells you is to text him.

Mainly because he won’t be in the city for a couple days, and maybe because he can’t bear your absence longer. He doesn’t let you know of the latter. “I’ll be away for a weekend. Hoseok and Yoongi are hosting a get-together up in the mountains.”

“Have fun, and tell them I said hi.” You unbuckle your seatbelt. 

He nods, taking off his seatbelt too. Leaning over the console, he brushes your hair out of your face and plants a quick kiss on your lips. Not a verbal ‘I’ll miss you,’ though, it is as good as one.

The last words he fans over your mouth are, “Bye, Pix.”

The get-together was a cover up for a retirement party. Who would’ve thought Yoongi and Hoseok would retire at thirty-five? Well, Yoongi did. He hates working and Hoseok’s the type to follow suit.

“Long time no see, Jungkook. Whatcha been up to?” Ryan, a past costar, places his hand on the small of Jungkook’s back. Warm, enticing, but Jungkook doesn’t want any of that. What he actually wants is for the Wi-Fi to work since his data’s been shit the entire weekend. 

“Not much.” He replies. “Taking a little break from work. Been nice. How have you been?” He tilts the router’s antennas and checks if the signal’s improved on his phone. 

Nope.

“Oh, same ol’.” He shrugs, bringing the bottle of beer to his lips. His hand remains on Jungkook’s body, now holding his waist.

“Jungkook, quit messing with the router,” Hoseok calls out. “What are the odds we’d ever be one with the wilderness again?” Yeah, Hoseok definitely is at the moment ... sunbathing absolutely naked. 

“Say, if you’re free tonight, Kia wants the three of us to hang in the jacuzzi.” Ryan propositions, hand lingering on the small of Jungkook’s back. Jungkook’s no fool. The couple eyed him the entire weekend, throwing him subtle smiles and laughing extra hard at his jokes.

He can’t be bothered with their current offer while his top priority is his need to fix the damn router. After another couple of seconds, the light on the router flashes a solid green light. He checks his phone again and the picture of the tall trees he sent this morning finally delivers. Immediately, he receives a notification.

🧚[2:27 p.m.]: Pretty 💚

Just like the feeling in his chest. It aches prettily when he receives a picture of you at your work station, prominent bags underneath your eyes accentuating your exhaustion. 

“Maybe.” Jungkook replies to Ryan. Probably not, but Jungkook’s always been too nice … too cordial. He’ll make up another excuse later, or wait till alcohol skews Ryan’s memory of his offer. 

A bunch of other notifications on his phone come in, mostly random ads and spam in his inbox. 

Agent Lee [2:31 p.m.]: Hey, got a project for U. LMK if U r interested. 

He’s grateful for all the opportunities his agent has looked into for him. At the end of the day, it’s a transactional relationship. Jungkook gets a job, his agent gets a cut for the recruitment. There’s no rush to reply. After all, he’s one with the wilderness … or at least, should be.

The mountain’s perfect — air crisp and fresh in comparison to the usual pollution casted over the city. The cabin Hoseok and Yoongi picked out had ten bedrooms for around twenty-some guests and with his luck, Jungkook didn’t need to share with anyone. God bless the Airbnb hosts for placing four beds in one bedroom.

The weekend was filled with barbecue, outdoors activities, and way too much company. Jungkook holds himself well in social events, but he has limits. He preferred one on one time anyway — something more lowkey. 

Yoongi is inside the cabin drinking with a couple of their friends; whereas Hoseok and Jungkook remained outside with their bottles of beer and cigarettes.

Perfect way to end this weekend trip. Jungkook’s ankle moves happily in place. He looks at his phone, smiling as he sees another notification from you updating what you were having for dinner.

“What’s got you smiling like an idiot?” Hoseok blows out the smoke from his cigarette. “Or should I say who?”

Jungkook debates whether or not he should tell his friend. It’s not like you don’t know each other, but that was also part of the issue. He’s not one to kiss and tell, so he’ll keep details vague.

Jungkook locks his phone and sets it face down on his lap. “Your wedding videographer.”

Hoseok sputters into a coughing fit mid-inhale. “Wait, the same one who filmed The Silent Library Orgy?”

Jungkook nods. Doesn’t know why he feels like he’s telling a parent he’s dating for the first time.

“Interesting.” He brings the cigarette back to his lips. “She’s nice.”

“She is.” Jungkook concedes.

“So, she cool with the profession?”

Ah, there it is.

“Not sure.” Jungkook knows the whole rundown of dating someone not in the industry. Most of the time, they aren’t cool with the nature of the job. It’s hard to separate personal and work when much of his work encompasses activities he’d do with someone he was dating. Except, he wasn’t dating you and you aren’t dating him. And he’s keen on demonstrating you pleasure, feelings, and work can be separate, after all.

He’s not so sure he’s ready to face the reality of your feelings for him and his job. Just wants to enjoy you.

“Probably good to figure out soon.”

“Yeah, probably.” Jungkook waves off.

“Don’t do that to the poor girl.” He warns, as if the conversation wouldn’t be difficult for Jungkook either. 

A conversation does need to happen eventually. Selfishly, he wants to continue spending time with you just as things are. And unreasonably, he’s upset Hoseok’s right.

Better to rip off the bandaid now than later, he supposes.

Jungkook sinks further into the reclined lawn chair. Nearby frogs and crickets echo back and forth, filling the silence between the two men.

“Hate this part of seeing someone.” Jungkook mutters.

“Why’d you think I stuck to dating people in the industry?” Considerably less complicated when you’re with someone who understands the ins and outs of the job. “Hurts less parties.”

When his friend stays silent, pondering, Hoseok continues, “Keep putting that shit off and it’s gonna burn you. Promise.”

Jungkook smiles. “Alright, wise one.”

Pleased, Hoseok changes the topic. “Can’t believe Yoongi and I are finally kicking the bucket.”

A cloud of grey exits Jungkook as he chuckles. “You make it sound like you’re dying.” 

“Feels like a part of me is. Youth.” He mumbles. “Been doing this shit for damn near fifteen years.”

Jungkook has been doing this for almost ten years and he feels like he can go for a lot more, the inevitable ending still indefinite in his brain. He doesn’t know if it’s from actual passion for the job, or the comfortable lifestyle it offers. When his thoughts unconsciously flicker to you, he frowns. No matter all the luxury, there are still normal, regular things he can’t have in his unusual, exceptional life.

“It’s the right thing to do. No regrets.” Hoseok adds. “You’ll realize too.” He points at Jungkook with his cigarette.

“Realize what?”

“We all outgrow this field.”

Part of Jungkook knows he can’t stay in the industry until actual retirement. Though, there is a subcategory in porn with the elderly community and while he knows he’s years beyond that point, he isn’t sure his hips or back can handle anything strenuous as fucking seven days a week at the age of sixty-five or beyond. 

Regardless, Jungkook scoffs. “You’re just jealous I’m young and have the freedom of choice.”

“Maybe I am. Yerin called me ‘unc’ last week.”

“Well, you are her uncle. I don’t see how that’s an insult.” Jungkook taps his cigarette into the ashtray. 

“Called me that ‘cause I said her brows were fleeky. Apparently that shit’s ancient, can you believe that?” He huffs a laugh before clearing his throat. “Anyway. You really see yourself doing this for the long run?”

Filming porn is all Jungkook has known. It’s never failed him. It wants him, conditionally … as long as he looks good and performs. He’s always thought he’d work in this field long enough to not have to work anymore. Never thought there could be something more for him out there. Get a regular 9-5? Hard pass. He’d rather shit in his hands and clap. He isn’t into any form of manual labor either, so that puts him out of a job. Jungkook’s also a man of spite, doing shit where people would perceive as taboo or “wrong.” Quitting would only prove his doubters right. 

The closest thing he’d consider doing outside of his current field is photography. He’s not going to make jackshit with how saturated the market is, at least not the first couple of years. Again, he wants photography to remain a hobby. The climb to the window is far beyond his reach at this point in his life. He’s missed out on the networking, skill learning, and time needed to establish a clientele … let alone finding his niche.

He’d rather choose a familiar hell than run into the unknown, praying and hoping he’d find a safe haven.

Porn is easy and routine. Of course, bad days exist — if anyone says they love their job unconditionally, they’re liars.

“Ah, what the hell, who am I to question? You’re on your own path, Jungkook.” Hoseok presses the last bit of his cigarette into the ashtray. 

Knowing his friend, his dismissive nature isn’t like him. Jungkook benefits a lot from being the youngest in his friend group. He’s not considered young to the masses, but amongst his friends, he reaps off the fruits of their struggles. Learns to not make mistakes through their mistakes and if he does end up fucking things up, he always can turn to them for an answer.

“Does meeting someone special mean I should give up certain things?” Does meeting someone mean he needs to change?

His friend hums, takes a moment to ponder for an answer. “Depends.”

“On?”

“Risk management factors.”

“You really are unc.” Jungkook rolls his eyes. “Dumb it down for me.”

“Look, change is scary, but remaining the same is scarier. I’ll be honest, no clue what Yoongi and I are gonna do, but we’ll figure things out—I’ll figure things out.” He corrects himself, an unconscious grin on his face from the thought of his husband. “I just know we can’t milk our time in this industry.”

Jungkook thinks about all the things he loves right now: his home, lifestyle, hobbies, and most importantly, freedom. Would he lose these things the moment he decides to quit the one thing maintaining these pillars in his life?

Perhaps Hoseok does have a point in this ‘risk management’ theory. 

Jungkook’s phone vibrates against his leg. Two notifications. One from you and another from his agent.

He takes one final long drag of his cigarette. Funny how smoking feels like it’s the only thing forcing him to breathe when it could also be the reason for his inevitable death. He replays your voice in his head, telling him he has nothing to lose. True, but he is losing something when he could only choose and go through one door. 

Hoseok’s right. A part of Jungkook dies a little as he only replies to one message thread.

He commemorates the last night with beers, company he otherwise wouldn’t see unless on set, and the powerful jacuzzi jets.

Jungkook makes an enemy of the fluorescent lights in his break area and blames them for his inability to stay hard ten minutes before he’s called on set.

Yup, definitely the lights and not something to do with how he’s been short with you all week, not fully going through with the plans you offered whether it be dinner or helping him with the photography competition. Yesterday, he let you know he might be free to come over tonight—would have to check-in later.

All vague answers. If you were truly upset, you’d confront him about it. And you haven’t, so business as usual.

He hates fluorescent lights, but more than that, he hates the lighting on his screen the most.

He sees your contact name and picture—the same picture you both took at the cafe. Hates this guilt-ridden feeling traveling to the tips of his fingertips as he presses the answer button.

“Hey—whoa, it’s really dark where you’re at.”

Jungkook chuckles and reaches over to the light switch. He has his phone angled just at his head and as unsuspecting as you are of his intentions, you offer a soft smile. You don’t tell him you’ve missed him, but he feels it — knows it.

“Hey, Pix. What’s up? Everything okay?”

“Yeah! I just wanted to check-in if tonight’s still a go? I know you said you’d let me know—”

“Need actor and actress on set in five minutes.” The director’s voice blares through the intercom in the corner of his break area.

Jungkook swallows, sees the shift in your eyes, but you blink away the confusion.

“You didn’t mention you were back at work again.”

“Yeah, I accepted a new project.” He scratches behind his head. “And about the plans tonight, I should be free—”

“You know what? I forgot, I had some things to take care of tonight, so I think it might be cutting it close.” You interrupt. “We can find some other time that works for the both of us. Don’t wanna keep you from work.”

“Wait, Pix. I—”

You shake your head, bottom lip trembles slightly before you move the camera away from your face. “I’ll text you. Have a good day, okay?”

The call drops before he could respond.

His arm falls to his side, phone enveloped in his hand for a moment before he sets it on the vanity near his other belongings.

His costar is gorgeous, as all of them have been in the past. New, apparently, a little on the shy side when they first met to sign papers, but she’s thankful her first job was with someone like Jungkook. Kind, handsome, and experienced; well, he’s only two of the listed traits. He feels like the worst person in the world at the moment. 

Unfortunately for Jungkook, the video call with you didn’t help. Embarrassing for a pornstar like him to not be able to get it up. Rookie bullshit to let his personal life impact work. So much for the idea of pleasure, feelings, and work can be separate. 

The director and his costar were kind enough to give him an additional fifteen minutes to prepare himself. Some of his team even offered enhancers, which, frankly, felt insulting. He’s always been apprehensive about using medication for his job. He looks at the pills, slides it right off the counter and into the wastebin, ‘cause fuck that. 

Just as you’re the person responsible for his state, you’re also the person who ends up bringing him out of it. He thinks about you and how you sound, how you feel, how you look. And it’s enough to hold him through work.

He fucks himself into his costar. A little too rough, but thankfully, she said she was good with that beforehand and it fit the script. He just wants to get this over with and go home.

He loves sex. Loves how it eases his mind. It’s better than a cigarette. Better than any form of sugar or drug.

Yet, at this moment, it feels more like a duty, and all he could see right now were your dejected eyes. You have no reason to be sad, and perhaps it’s why the guilt is so all-consuming. You can’t voice your hurt and betrayal — not allowed to.

He feels himself soften inside the girl under him and he slams his eyes shut, praying these thoughts go away.

It’s sick. How he wishes he was inside of you instead, fucking you like he’s sorry for god knows what. He’s not a good person, but maybe if he could make you feel good in the only way he knew how, you’d forgive him. Right his wrongs.

Thinking about fucking you helps. His costar announces she’s going to cum, and it’s not fake like he’s used to on set. Jungkook doesn’t know if he is able to get there, but he still pulls out after she’s finished. His hand moves feverishly over his cock like he did the night with you. 

You. You. You.

He finally cums all over the woman’s stomach with a call of your name. 

Unlike him, your promised text messages never come.

a/n: beta’d by @lovieku she saved my AH with her suggestions and edits!!! this part couldn’t have reached flow state w/o her help. everyone go show her some love or else! 🫂

alright now… do any of yall hate me after reading this part? i hope to have some discussion heh or hear your thoughts!! i also anticipate act iii coming around late april or early may. as always, ty for your guys continued patience and support. toodles~

gentle reminder: no taglist ♡

act iii.

[cupidsbling]

The bad twin | 전정국

as your boyfriend hungrily makes the most passionate love to you, you soon come to the realisation that it's his trouble-making twin brother instead – the 'bad boy' who intrigues you more than anything, the one who often corrupts your thoughts – the man who secretly obsesses over you.

genre – secret pining au, angst, fluff, smut.

pairing – bf's twin brother jungkook x fem reader.

warnings – oc's boyfriend is a dick, cheating, jk is secretly obsessed with oc and a little pervy, explicit language, mentions of intimacy between oc and her boyfriend, a lot of smut between oc and jk (will add specific details in the chapter)

note – had 1k words of this in my drafts for over a year, but after reading and OBSESSING over @wintrbears The wife Trap, I've been extremely motivated finish it up hehe. (thank you for beautiful story and some inspiration, queen!!!)

lmk if anyone wants to be tagged. will post this lil oneshot next month!!

[yzzart]

⋆˚｡OTHER SIDE! | J.JUNGKOOK

if you met your brother's best friend, for whom you have a crush, on the same sidewalk, would you go to the other side? well, your friends bet no; he's already said you're on the other side.

⋆˚࿔ pairings: brother's best friend!jungkook x f!reader.

⋆˚࿔ tags + warnings: age gap (Jungkook is 28, reader is 24), reader is a magazine columnist, teenage crush, inspired by the song "Other Side" by Brent Faiyaz, cat-and-mouse dynamic, jealous!Jungkook, Jungkook acting like a jerk, a bit of angst, mention of an argument/fight, explicit content, unprotected sex, dirty talk, biting and hickeys, clitoral stimulation, oral sex (female receiving), slight nipple obsession, mild praise kink, crying during sex. (not yet reviewed) — wc: 13.5K

#1 "HOME SWEET HOME"? BOY, GO BACK TO SEOUL.

"Are you listening to me?"

Searching for even a shred of honesty, and summoning that classic childhood pressure the knowledge that lying was a terrible thing, something that shamed anyone who did it, — mom was always right — you were convinced you had moved past it; that you had put a final period on that chapter of your life.

It was ridiculous — perhaps something far more sweeping and drastic than the word "shameful," a term that wasn't even in your vocabulary at the time — to keep circling back, to keep dwelling on the past when you had already turned the page; besides, you weren't some hypersensitive teenager anymore.

At least, that was exactly what you kept telling yourself; well, it worked most of the time and held water — it earned a seal of quality.

Or…

Until someone mentioned his name, or said how he was doing, or until your stomach decided to act as if you were fifteen again. Instantly, you were fifteen once more — back to when you first discovered the passion growing in your heart. — Actually, scratch that "seal of quality" idea immediately; it didn't hold up, and you’d want to file a complaint.

Damn, it was cruelly ridiculous.

"I can't believe i'm talking to myself."

The bar was busy. More so than usual for a thursday, though not quite packed; just crowded enough that Juria had to raise her voice to get your attention. — Something your best friend hadn't managed to do for a little while now; almost five minutes, to be exact. — The music was loud, accompanied by the constant clatter of glasses behind the bar.

You wanted to ask why the night shifts were always the worst, but you knew it was such a stupid question — realizing it wasn't worth asking. On the bright side, you didn't work those hours, nor did you work at that establishment. You simply took advantage of Juria’s invitation — she would always manipulate you with lines like "we need to have some fun" or "lose that sour look; it doesn't suit you" — and visit your brother.

Speaking of whom, where was Jimin?

In truth, that clever woman had a plan up her sleeve — or rather, up her manicured nails; she was seizing the chance to "run into" Jimin’s friend Taehyung, who also worked at the bar. — Truly, the world was full of schemers. — The young man was far from naive; he recognized the woman’s intentions before she even reached the counter.

"What?" — Juria’s remark snapped you out of your thoughts — a welcome relief. Shaking your head and swirling the drink remaining in your glass, you leaned closer to the redhead. — "I’m sorry, Juria. Could you say that again?" — You furrowed your brows as you asked; the look was too genuine for your friend to deny.

"You’re acting strange." — Juria raised her glass to her lips, glistening from lip gloss in the dim light, while fixing you with an arched-brow stare, the look of someone who suspected something. So, she had been right. — "Seriously, honey." — The woman placed a hand on your knee in a gesture of affection.

"I'm fine, Juria." — In just one sip, you finished the drink; the burning, caused by the alcohol, went down his throat drastically and quickly. You placed the empty glass on the counter, waiting for the opportunity to drink again. — If you doubt it, if your brother saw it, he would add water. — "Did you see the photo i posted? I tagged you." — You tried to change the subject; in fact, you could return the focus to your friend's conversation.

Behind the counter, the noise of a video cracking is loud, drawing your attention; When you turn your head towards the sound, you see Taehyung observing — in other words, dedicating himself to the conversation — the scene while drying some glasses. He would take your glass if it weren't for you holding it.

"She's been like that for about ten minutes." — He shrugged as he tended to the glasses; you saw him smiling.

"Thanks for the help, Taehyung." — You said dryly, returning the same smile to the older. You certainly weren't going to leave the bartender a tip — absolutely not. He silently mouthed, "you're welcome."

"Don't tell me you're thinking about him…" — Juria leaned against the counter, looking at Taehyung in search of an accomplice — and finding one instantly. He followed her lead, abandoning the task of cleaning glasses to rest his arms on the marble surface. — "I know that look all too well."

Damn, where have you been, Jimin?

"Who?" — The question came out fast; you almost choked on your own saliva. Even with the music blaring, you caught every word and couldn't hide a peculiar — actually, surprising — reaction. Like, maybe you could have been a little less dramatic about it. — "Shit, don't even start with that."

You knew what they were up to, and it was awful; honestly, you’d rather walk on hot coals than endure the way Taehyung and Juria were in cahoots. Sometimes, you saw them more as enemies than friends. — It was a bit of an exaggeration — drastic and over-the-top — but that was how you felt; and, with the alcohol in you system, you was getting more emotional and sensitive.

"A bit of a strange reaction to a simple question, love." — The redhead tilted her head, making a funny face: eyebrows arched, eyes narrowed, lips pursed. You laughed, unable to help yourself. — Taehyung mimicked her.

"How old are you two? Five?"

Before the pair had a chance to answer her, the bar's back door opened, and Jimin appeared. It looked like he had been using his phone, as he was holding it in his hand before slipping it into his trouser pocket — likely on a break or handling something personal, which explained his absence for a while. — Upon seeing you, even though he saw you often, your brother smiled in your direction.

"I'm surprised this bar is still standing after i've been away for twenty minutes." — Jimin draped his cleaning rag over his shoulder and nudged Taehyung’s waist with his elbow. A few minutes later, a customer ordered a drink, and the older stepped in to serve them. — "Jungkook is coming back tomorrow." — What?

"I thought he wasn't coming back until next week." — Wow, Taehyung had completely left that detail out of the conversation; not that you, like, actually wanted to know. You pointed at your glass, signaling that you needed a refill; your friend got the message.

Your phone buzzed with a notification, but you chose not to check it right away. — So, he was back in Busan? After roughly four years and five months — and no, you didn't know the exact number of days — spent in Seoul taking on the responsibilities of managing the family finances, Jungkook had to settle into his new life. That didn't mean he never visited Busan, he certainly didn't neglect that part of his life, but the visits were brief, shorter than he would have liked; still, he always made a point of seeing his best friend.

The curious thing was that Jungkook never managed to see or visit you during the time he spent in Busan; it was strange — It seemed as though he was trying to avoid you; it was a choice he made of his own free will. In some ways, though, it was better that way; yet, he still followed you on social media. He would often send you small gifts via Jimin — a gesture you truly appreciated.

Jungkook cared about his best friend's little sister; he had never stopped caring about you.

"Oh, he asked about you," — Jimin said after calling your name. For the third time, you nearly choked on you drink; Juria rested her hands on her knee again, steadying you. For God's sake, couldn't that boy just stay in Seoul? — "Taehyung, did you see that cherry liqueur?"

"I think we ran out, didn't we?"

Reaching for your phone to check the time, you took the opportunity to look at a recent notification — 10:23 PM. There were several, actually, but only one bothered you; it was pretty obvious why.

mnijungkook liked your photo.

For the first time in ages, you felt something dangerously familiar wash over you from head to toe; it was unbearable, and there seemed to be no immediate solution. My God, it was the same feeling you’d had as a teenager. — Jungkook was coming back to town, and apparently, you hadn’t gotten over him at all.

#2 WHY DO YOU GET THE IMPRESSION THAT YOU FEEL ANGER WHEN YOU SEE ME?

You were exhausted; you wished you could find — or even invent — a word stronger and more concrete than "exhausted" to truly define your state at that moment. This time, you weren't exaggerating. Scheduling interviews, meetings, and a photo shoot that ran nearly two and a half hours late — compounded by the editor-in-chief deciding to change half of an upcoming article at the last minute.

It wasn't that you hated the idea of ​​working as a magazine columnist — you’d never dream of thinking that; you were grateful for the job and enjoyed working in a field you loved. But, holy shit, sometimes you just wanted to cause a scene — create the kind of utter chaos Dwight did in the fourteenth episode of The Office’s fifth season.

You just wanted to go home, take a long bath, and sleep for ten hours straight — or maybe do all three.

As you left the building, greeting the security guards stationed by the large entrance doors and reaching for your phone, you noticed messages from Juria; they were trivial. Just "did you survive?" to which you had replied, "unfortunately." You then tucked your phone into your bag and headed toward the bus stop — or, on second thought, you could take a taxi.

Then, you stopped in you tracks, as if something had suddenly startled or surprised you, which was exactly what had happened.

Holy shit.

He was leaning against a black motorcycle, wearing a black leather jacket with his arms crossed, or rather, his sleeves were rolled up to his forearms, leaving his tattoos exposed; there were some new ones, or maybe just touch-ups, it was hard to tell.

Did he look stronger?

He certainly seemed taller than you remembered. — Of course, it had been four years and a few damn months; you didn't perfectly recall his build. — And his hair was a bit long, not excessively so, but it suited him.

Jeon Jungkook.

"No, no." — You murmured, gripping the strap of your bag tightly, feeling a sense of unease. Why was he right outside your workplace? Jungkook should have been resting after his trip, busy, or anywhere else and not there; besides, how did he even know your work address?

Before you had the chance to process what you was seeing and what was happening — and for that matter, to curse your brother for telling his best friend where you worked — you noticed something else; or rather, someone else.

A woman was standing beside him and she was beautiful, truly beautiful. She was standing next to the motorcycle, talking to Jungkook, laughing with him, and touching his arm.

They seemed intimate, very close; you had never touched his arm like that. A deeply unpleasant, uncomfortable sensation churned in your stomach — it felt like nausea.

He was smiling at the woman, who burst into laughter — unnecessarily, it seemed forced — at something he’d said. She touched Jungkook’s arm again, and you could have sworn you saw her tuck a lock of hair behind her ear and whisper something into his ear.

"Oh, right." — You almost bit your tongue in indignation; you didn't even know why you were annoyed. There was no reason for it; Jeon was a grown man, single and very handsome. It was obvious he’d be surrounded by beautiful women who were always flirting with him. Yeah, you’d had to get used to hearing about it.

But less than 24 HOURS after arriving in the city? Wow.

You should just leave. — Yes, that was exactly what you intended to do to avoid dragging out the situation; you were going to turn your back and head home, looking for a taxi. Acting like a grown woman; you weren't obligated to watch the scene unfold. — Then, he looked up and saw you hurrying in the opposite direction, scanning the street for a cab.

Jungkook’s face lit up instantly; it was as if a star had fallen right there in the street, or as if someone had flipped on a light. A genuine, happy smile spread across his lips, possibly highlighting his lip piercing. Jungkook called out your name, practically shouting to get your attention; you didn't want to stop, but you had to.

The woman next to Jeon looked at you with curiosity and confusion, not liking being left out; she hated that she didn't continue to receive the boy's attention because of your presence. — Jungkook quickly moved away and walked towards you.

"You left earlier than i expected!" — Jungkook's voice was peaceful, very serene, and showed a good mood at seeing you. His eyes shone for you, he was happy to have seen you again; it was clear.

"What are you doing here?" — Your tone was harsher than you intended, taking Jungkook by surprise; there was no need for it.

"Wow, what a way to say hello." — He gave a humorless laugh. He furrowed his brows, trying to figure out the reason for such odd treatment. He tilted his head, a classic Jungkook habit, you remembered. — "It's been a while…"

"What are you doing here, Jungkook?" — You repeated the question. Your eyes darted toward the woman, wondering how she was taking Jungkook’s absence; to your surprise, you heard her say goodbye to him and walk away, heading in the opposite direction.

"I came to get you." — He put his hands in his pants pockets.

"Get me?" — You blinked in surprise. — "Why?"

"Because i wanted to."

You would look at him, though at times you couldn't bear the eye contact for long and would fix your gaze on an invisible spot on his jacket or his necklace; regardless, your focus remained entirely on him. You were starting to feel nervous, and fatigue was taking its toll, yet you held your ground.

"I’ve been away for a while, and i thought it would be nice to see you," — Jungkook explained, scratching the back of his neck.

There was no real need for the explanation, and he knew it, but he wanted to be clear with you, and he was telling the truth; after arriving back, the only thing he’d had to do was ask Jimin for your work address. — Well, he hadn't expected your earlier reaction, but he intended to ignore it, he’d love nothing more than to forget it.

Jungkook tried to mask his nervousness, which seemed to be mounting little by little; he wondered why, but he didn't have the patience to wait for the answer. It was probably just post-trip exhaustion, he hadn't rested as much as he would have liked; yeah, that had to be it.

You had changed. — Not that it was a bad thing, quite the opposite; it was good, really good. Jeon immediately corrected his thoughts. You were no longer the teenager, that little girl who was always glued to Jimin’s side; no longer the girl who used to tease him by sticking out your tongue or rolling your eyes or the young girl who constantly put up new posters in your room, trying to make it look edgier and cooler.

Now, you were a mature, beautiful, and incredibly confident woman; you were admirable, too, and according to your friends, and especially Jimin deeply dedicated to your work.

In fact, you were absolutely and perhaps even unconditionally beautiful. — Damn, he knew you had grown up, but he had no idea it would be like this. — Jungkook hadn't realized that the shy smile playing on your lips could have such an effect on him, or that it would make him want to keep looking at you.

It seemed Jungkook would struggle to resist the resurgence of certain feelings and thoughts, ones he had once deemed biting and devious, yet at the time, dismissed as merely fleeting regarding his best friend's sister. Jeon had promised himself he wouldn't revisit that story, that situation.

Absolutely not.

"Jungkook?" — Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts; it wasn't the first time, you had been calling him for seven seconds. He had seemed to go blank, frozen for a moment, before snapping back to reality. — "Is everything okay?" — you asked, tilting your head and rubbing your arms; you was starting to feel cold.

"Hmm…" — He acknowledged, blinking rapidly. You watched Jeon’s tongue press against the inside of his cheek, a sign of impatience, as his fingers ran through his dark hair, tidying it up. — "Shall we go? Lucky for you, the spare helmet should fit." — You walked over to the motorcycle; upon receiving the helmet and putting it on, you confirmed what he had said, it was a perfect fit. Before Jungkook started the engine, while waiting for you to climb onto the back, you hesitated.

"She isn't going to get, like, jealous?" — Upon hearing your question, the older turned his head toward you, and you could picture his furrowed brows and the pout on his lips. Jungkook wasn't stupid, let alone naive; he knew exactly who you were talking about.

"Who?" — His voice came out muffled by the helmet, but you could detect the confusion in his tone. He liked to play at feigned simplicity, innocence.

"That woman." — Ah! Jungkook smiled; you were glad it wasn't visible, but you knew he was smiling because of his eyes, they crinkled and sparkled. That man was infuriating; he drove you crazy. — "I'm serious, Jungkook."

"Are you interested?" — You hated it when people answered your question with another question. — "I don't think she'll get jealous." — He shrugged, as if it were nothing. — "She's not my girlfriend or anything like that."

Wow. — For some completely irrational, and slightly significant, reason, your chest felt lighter; no, you felt lighter. It was kind of absurd, but you didn't care; you didn't care one bit.

"Were you jealous?"

"What? Of course not." — You climbed onto the back of the bike. You weren't sure if it was right to place your hands on Jeon's waist for balance you could have held onto the sides of the motorcycle; there were other handholds but he noticed your hesitation and wasted no time grabbing your hands and placing them on his waist.

"You were."

"I wasn't."

"A little bit, come on." — He was amused. It was obvious, or perhaps he simply didn't want to hide it; either way, there was no need to. Jeon had missed teasing you; he had missed your impatience with his playful antics — he had missed you.

"Jungkook…"

"Yeah?"

"Can we go, please?"

#3 NOTHING STRANGE HERE, MOVE ALONG.

The sound of water running over concrete, accompanied by the wet, unsubtle noises of fabric scrubbing against a surface, filled the garage; someone was humming, too.

Jungkook wiped the wet cloth over the side of the motorcycle, watching and enjoying the result as the black paint regained its shine in the afternoon light. The cleaning was nearly finished; it was a relief, as only a few spots remained, and being a stickler for detail, he wanted the bike to look brand new.

Cleaning his motorcycle was, without exaggeration, therapeutic for him; Jeon held a deep affection for the vehicle. He couldn't quite explain the feeling of seeing it so well cared for, especially by his own hands. It was the true meaning of satisfaction.

"You're cleaning that spot for the third time." — Taehyung’s voice came from behind Jungkook; he was the one who had been humming earlier. Jeon tried not to detect a taunt in his friend's words, but it was impossible.

"There was a stain, Hyung." — He offered as an excuse, lying to the older. In reality, there was no stain at all. Rising from the small stool, Jungkook left the wet, dirty rag beside the bucket of soapy water.

"There wasn't." — He insisted stubbornly, like a child; the two of them acted like children, really and it only got worse when Jimin joined their squabbles. — "Tell the truth: you've got something on your mind." — Taehyung wasn't lying, and that made the situation trickier; it was a toss-up, specifically because Jungkook couldn't explain what he wanted, not even to himself.

Wiping sweat from his forehead, Jungkook turned to see Jimin walking toward him and Taehyung, carrying three bottles of beer, exactly what he needed right then; he was grateful. He had been cleaning the motorcycle for nearly three hours; the long delay was due to his friends chatting away.

"How long are you staying in Seoul, anyway?" — Jimin asked, raising the bottle to his lips and taking a sip.

"A few weeks." — Jungkook shrugged, mirroring the blond man. — "Maybe a month or more?"

To be honest, Jungkook didn't want to return to Seoul; what with the corporate responsibilities, the pressure to deliver results, and the insufferable meetings with tedious, arrogant people. He owned up to his immaturity and his reluctance to fully embrace his role; he felt a need for honesty.

It wasn't that he hated the role he had to play in the financial world; a world his family had built and intended to perpetuate. — His brother had chosen not to follow that path. In fact, he had clashed with their father, causing a rift. — Jungkook hadn't been the first in line to inherit the family's financial empire, but he had become the most competent. — Following his older brother's decision, he took it upon himself to shape his father's vision.

Most of the time, Jungkook agreed with his brother's decision. If he had been in his brother's shoes, he wouldn't have thought twice.

"Will you survive?" — Jimin asked, teasing his friend. A message notification caught their attention; it was the blond guy's phone, so he reached for the device to check the message.

"Maybe." — He crossed his arms, taking a sip of his beer. Taehyung rolled his eyes at the answer; he’d forgotten just how dramatic his friend could be. Both of them grew curious about the message Jimin had received, as he was typing a reply presumably while smiling. — "Who is it ?" — He asked brazenly, without a shred of shame.

"My sister." — Ah, that made sense. Jungkook raised his eyebrows and stared at some invisible point, thinking of the girl; it had been two days since he’d last seen you, when he’d picked you up from work. — "They're rescheduling a photoshoot, or something like that," —He remarked, without many details.

"Again?" — Jungkook asked, looking skeptical; on the way to your house, you had mentioned a delay with the photoshoot for part of the article and that it would need to be rescheduled. Your boss hadn't been happy about it, and neither had you. — "I can imagine how she must be feeling." — He set the empty beer bottle down on the old garage table.

"She told you?" — Jimin raised his eyebrows, turning off his phone after replying to you and slipping it into his pocket. The tattooed man nodded, glancing at the motorcycle to check for any dirt; no, it was spotless. — "When?"

It was that simple; Jimin wasn't going to interrogate him, there was no intention or need to do so. No drama. He trusted his sister and his best friend. — After all, there was no issue.

"Yesterday." — He answered faster than expected, which was a bit unusual, since Jeon usually took a moment to reply to certain things, often because his attention was elsewhere. — "She spent about five minutes badmouthing the model's team, the ones responsible for the delay." — Jungkook laughed at the memory; you had even gotten him to criticize the team too, turning him into an accomplice. He could feel the vibrations of your laughter as you held onto him to keep from falling off the motorcycle. — "She works incredibly hard."

A dazzling smile played on Jungkook’s lips, one he didn't try to hide in front of his friends; after all, there was no malice in his words. — He recognized the effort you put into your work and had listened to all you complaints and the projects you was organizing; he’d even made you promise to tell him every single detail. God, Jungkook’s cheeks actually ached from smiling and laughing so much with you.

He enjoyed the time spent with you, however brief; something deep inside Jeon was longing for more.

"Oh," — He turned to his friend. — "..she could come by. I don't know, we could ask for something.."

"Or you could go pick her up… again." — Taehyung bit his lip in a teasing tone, playing with the tattooed boy and not worrying about Jimin's reaction, who could get irritated by his speech; but, on the contrary, he didn't care. He just poked the side of Taehyung's stomach.

"Aish." — Jungkook threw the slightly wet and dirty cloth at Taehyung.

#4 NOT EVERYTHING IS ABOUT YOU, IS IT THAT HARD?

Music vibrated through the walls; surprisingly, the DJ showed off his incredible work and good taste with everyone in the room. If in doubt, even outsiders could take advantage. This was great, everyone could enjoy it. — Colorful lights crossed the crowded dance floor while people danced, talked, laughed in groups or pairs spread across the room.

Oh, and they kissed, forgot to mention. As you walked, accompanied by Juria, who invited her, in other words, forced yoy to come and swore that she wouldn't take "no" for an answer. well, you would have had the patience to say all the synonyms for the word "no" but you preferred to follow your best friend — you managed to see several people kissing; probably, it wouldn't just be kisses.

Anyway, you wouldn't judge any of the souls.

"I'm going to grab something to drink." — You shouted to the redhead, who was enjoying the beat of the music; the instrumental track was truly great to listen to. It was impossible not to shout when trying to communicate with anyone, sometimes, even shouting didn't work. Luckily, Juria was still sober and heard you. — "Do you want anything?"

"No, sweetie!" — She said with a charming smile, winking at you; she was always fun to be around, and you loved seeing Juria happy like that. You also knew she would magically vanish from the small space you were occupying within just a few minutes. — "Make yourself at home." — Suddenly, before turning toward the bar, Juria gripped your shoulders to lean close to your ear. — "Be careful, because you look hot." — She whispered.

"Oh, Juria, please!" — You laughed, amused by her words and the way she winked at you once more.

On the bright side, the bar area wasn't too crowded; there were few people around, and you was relieved to find a small empty spot to order a drink without getting shoved, bumped, or having someone grind against your. —phew.

"Gin and tonic, please!" — The bartender nodded and winked at you, a friendly, innocent gesture. While waiting for you drink, you tapped your fingernails against the counter to the rhythm of the music. You didn't notice the young man standing next to you, watching you.

"Great choice," — he said enthusiastically, offering a closed-mouth smile. You looked up toward the voice and found yourself facing a handsome man, that was your first thought, tall, with slightly tousled dark hair and kind eyes. — "I’d order the same thing."

"Seriously?" — You laughed, realizing the guy was using a pickup line to strike up a conversation with you; well, it was worth a shot. — "Do you say that to everyone and just change the drink?" — Now it was the handsome guy's turn to laugh.

"Maybe."

"At least you admitted it."

“Honesty is my best quality.” — Unable to resist the guy’s cheesy line, you laughed, and he instantly smiled back, revealing his dimples. The bartender handed you your drink, along with the one he had ordered. He picked up his glass and raised it toward you, silently suggesting a toast. It was completely random, but you decided to play along. — “To a great choice.”

“To the worst pickup line ever.” — Before your glasses could clink, he dramatically placed a hand over his heart, as though you’d deeply wounded him. You could only shake your head, trying and failing not to laugh at the ridiculous display.

"Ouch.” — He narrowed his eyes and pouted dramatically, looking like a rain-soaked puppy; for a fleeting second, he reminded you of someone else. — “You really know how to be cruel.”

“And you really know how to be persistent.”

“Is it working?” — You clinked your glasses. As you took a sip, you merely shrugged in response, though if you were being honest, you were enjoying the easy banter between you.

"Maybe."

”‘Maybe’ is pretty close to a ‘yes.’”

“In what universe?”

"In mine."

At that exact moment, not even a second later, Jungkook saw you; from the other side of the party, he had a clear view of the bar and the venue’s entrance. — He knew the owner of the place, who had sent him an invitation as soon as he heard Jungkook was back in town.

Why not? — It had only been a few days since his return to the city, and he wanted to make the most of it; the invitation had seemed like the perfect opportunity. — So, he invited Yoongi along. Yoongi didn’t agree right away, but the boy from Busan had always known exactly how to convince him.

They had been there for a while now. Jungkook was grateful he had taken it easy, he hadn’t had much to drink. Back then, he had been no stranger to late-night parties and celebrations, and he still enjoyed nursing a drink every now and then, letting it bring back memories of the old days. — Since arriving at the party, he’d somehow ended up with five crumpled slips of paper tucked into his pocket, each one bearing a phone number and a tiny heart scribbled beside it.

He had no idea when they’d gotten there, but one thing was certain: none of those numbers would ever make it into his contacts.

Truthfully, he could have but he had no interest in doing so, no desire, no curiosity. — Nothing at all.

“Isn’t that the guy who went to school with us?” — Yoongi remarked, assuming Jungkook was staring at the same thing he was; a guy making out with one girl before immediately moving on to another. — “Damn,..he’s got stamina.” — He finished the last sip of his whiskey and turned toward the dark-haired man, only to find Jungkook’s gaze fixed on a completely different part of the room. — "Jungkook?"

No response.

"Jeon?" — After being ignored twice, Yoongi gave up on calling his name and followed the line of his friend’s stare instead. It didn’t take him long to figure it out. — “Ah…I get it.”

It was almost impressive. Yoongi had called his name three times without getting so much as a glance, a response, or any sign that Jungkook had even heard him. Yet the moment Yoongi muttered those two words under his breath, Jungkook finally turned to face him.

“What?” — The anger, disgust, and indignation etched across Jungkook’s face were impossible to miss. He bit the inside of his cheek and tightened his grip around his glass hard enough that, under different circumstances, he might have shattered it. Fine lines creased his brow as he kept his eyes fixed on the scene. — “Who is that guy?”

“No idea.” — Learning the name of the guy flirting with his friend’s little sister had never been on Yoongi’s agenda. Jungkook answered with nothing more than a low, gruff “Mm.” Yoongi shot him a knowing look. — “You shouldn’t even be asking that.”

"Why?"

“It’s simple, Jungkook.” — Frustrated, Yoongi pinched the bridge of his nose. — “Because it’s none of your business and definitely none of mine.”

Yoongi was right. — He always was. It was rare, almost impossible, for his reasoning not to make perfect sense, and he already knew exactly what was happening without anyone having to tell him or without needing to guess but it wasn’t his business either. — And what was he supposed to do? It didn’t matter, because Jungkook wasn’t about to listen to Yoongi’s lectures or his pleas to stay put and pretend he hadn’t seen you standing there with that guy.

What the hell did he have to do with his friend’s sister’s love life?

“Don’t do anything stupid, Jungkook.” — Yoongi refused to beg, though he sounded like the angel perched on the tattooed man’s shoulder. The moment he heard, “I won’t,” he nearly swore at him with every curse word he knew. — “That’s exactly what you said before you broke a guy’s nose in Gwangju.”

“Yeah, but i was right that time.”

“You’re not right this time.”

Jungkook didn’t listen. He ignored the older friend — a level of disrespect — Yoongi would definitely take issue with and kept walking in the one direction he had no business going: straight toward you.

The guy’s name was Haein. — As cheesy as he was, he was undeniably charming, winning you over with his sense of humor and making you laugh with surprising ease. The alcohol might have had something to do with it, but let’s not dwell on that. — The conversation flowed effortlessly, light, natural, and easy, free of challenges, petty arguments, or someone constantly trying to get under your skin at every opportunity.

Haein was funny and incredibly polite, too; more than that, he seemed genuinely interested in everything you had to say. He listened, paid attention, asked questions. He wasn’t just waiting for his turn to speak; he was actually engaged in the conversation.

“So, you’re a writer?” — Haein’s eyes lit up with curiosity, genuine enthusiasm shining through as he asked about your work. He told you he was a photographer, a profession he’d dreamed of since he was a kid; his mother had always loved taking pictures.

“I’m a columnist.” — You replied, absentmindedly tracing the rim of your half-empty glass with your fingertip. Even beneath the dim lighting, the rosy tint on your cheeks was impossible to miss, and Haein found it undeniably endearing. You caught him quietly saying it was amazing. — “It’s not nearly as glamorous as it sounds.”

“What? I disagree.”

“How can you be so sure?” — You asked with a small smile. — “You don’t even know what i actually write about.” — You hadn’t meant for it to come across as blunt, and thankfully, Haein didn’t take it that way.

“I don’t need to.” — Haein smiled warmly. — “The way you smile when you talk about it tells me you care a lot about what you do.”

Honestly, you couldn’t remember the last time you’d been genuinely interested in talking to a guy you’d just met. — Well, by now, he’d already gone from complete stranger to pleasant company; was that too much of a leap? — Everything between the two of you felt so effortless. Haein had somehow made you forget the noise and chaos of the party around you.

What would it hurt to give him a chance, right?

Apparently, quite a lot, because you were so caught up in the conversation, so genuinely enjoying yourself, that you never noticed a very familiar figure making his way toward you.

In any other situation, you would’ve much rather run into Jimin than him.

“I didn’t know you were here.” — He cleared his throat after calling your name. Unlike usual, he didn’t sound to be in a particularly good mood. His familiar voice was lower than normal, carrying a sharpness that made it seem unusually dry or maybe that was just your impression. The smile on your lips vanished instantly, as though you’d somehow been caught doing something wrong.

Haein noticed the sudden change in your expression and in your posture. The shift caught him off guard, but he couldn’t help attributing it to the newcomer who had just stepped into the space the two of you had been sharing.

Jungkook, of course.

“I didn’t know i needed to let you know.” — He clearly didn’t like the boldness in your reply, though it was to be expected. Jungkook’s eyes narrowed, and his expression shifted into something that looked almost like disgust.

You didn’t mean to be so harsh with your brother’s friend; after all, the two of you had been getting along again over the past few days.

“Is he a friend of yours?” — Haein asked, adding a cute nickname derived from your name. It was endearing, and Jungkook let out a humorless laugh at the sound of it. The other noticed the tension between you two, his gaze shifting back and forth between you and the tattooed man.

“Unfortunately.” — You heard Jungkook click his tongue, and you couldn’t stop yourself from rolling your eyes. The guy in front of you quietly laughed at his reaction. Haein shifted his attention, realizing he was being stared at and he had been right. Jeon was looking at him with a lowered, judgmental gaze, and it definitely didn’t mean anything good. He could have felt uncomfortable, but he wasn’t naive.

“Who are you?”

“Who wants to know?” — Haein raised an eyebrow. He wasn’t going to put up with something like that, much less accept having his conversation with you interrupted. He actually had the nerve to challenge your friend.

“I asked first.” — Jungkook argued.

“And i’m not obligated to answer.”

“Jungkook…” — You tried to interrupt, even though you already knew it wouldn’t make any difference.

“Stay out of this.”

Sighing, you couldn’t believe the situation you had found yourself in. You knew both of them were incredibly stubborn and self-centered; avoiding an awkward scene out of pure ignorance didn’t seem to be an option, apparently. You wanted to find Juria — though, at that moment, you felt it would be easier to find a needle in a haystack — and leave; at least with Haein’s number saved.

Maybe not. — Even though you had enjoyed the conversation and felt comfortable around him, he was still just a handsome guy you might meet once and never see again.

“Do you always treat people this way, or did you make an exception just for today?” — Haein questioned, the corners of his lips curving into a sarcastic smile. He wasn’t afraid of whatever answer or aggressive reaction might come.

“I made a special exception just for you.”

“Look, it’s fine.” — Haein raised his hands in surrender, though the gesture was clearly playful, keeping that teasing smile and disdainful look. — “I’m going to get some air.” — He could tell this wasn’t going to end well, not to mention he already knew there was something going on between you and Jungkook. Before leaving, he gave you one last smile. — “I hope i see you again later.”

“I hope so too.”

Jungkook’s expression hardened instantly; his jaw clenched tight. He felt a bitter taste in his mouth, running his tongue along the inside of his cheek. There was also an uncomfortable sensation in his eyes, making him blink several times. The sight of Haein, — whose name Jungkook didn’t even know, — disappearing into the crowd brought him a strange sense of relief; it was weird, honestly.

He found himself hoping you wouldn’t find him again. — Not this time.

“What was that, Jungkook?” — You questioned, visibly irritated and overwhelmed. You had so many questions, you wanted to yell at him; God, you felt suffocated. — “No, it felt like i was doing something wrong.” — Your eyes moved over him, not focusing on his face, you barely cared to. The colorful lights shifted around the two of you. — “My God, even Jimin doesn’t act like this.” — You gestured with your fingers.

“You didn’t even know the guy.” — Jungkook let out a humorless laugh, crossing his arms.

“So what?”

“Oh, so what?” — You widened your eyes mockingly at his words. Jungkook could be ridiculous when he wanted to be, he somehow always managed to outdo himself. Sometimes, you wondered how you had ever liked someone like him. — “You trust anyone now?” — How was that even a question? — “Always looking for attention.” — Once again, he let out a humorless laugh.

In disbelief, your expression was pure shock; you blinked once, twice, as the music, which seemed to have grown louder and the floor vibrating beneath your feet became impossible to tolerate like it had been before.

“Excuse me?” — Jungkook didn’t look apologetic in the slightest. He seemed completely normal as he stared at you in that ridiculous way, almost like your brother.

No, not like Jimin. — Jimin didn’t usually look at you like that. Sure, he scolded you sometimes, like any normal sibling would, but this was different.

“Who do you think you are to talk to me like that?”

“Someone with common sense? Trying to stop you from doing something stupid.”

“I don’t need you to stop me from doing anything.” — You still couldn’t believe this version of Jungkook. All you could think about was the shame burning in your chest.

“Of course not.” — He cleared his throat. — “You always know exactly what you’re doing, don’t you?” — He raised his voice, his anger evident, his composure slipping. Jungkook could have stepped closer instead of making her feel the need to shout over the music, but that was his choice. The sarcasm in his voice was so obvious that it made you freeze, pressing your body against the counter. — “He was a complete stranger. Did you even think about that?”

“You were once a complete stranger to me too, Jungkook.”

You had hit his ego; that was a point for you.

Before, it had only been teasing, a way for the two of you to mess with each other, but now it had turned into arrogance, careless words, and no filter whatsoever. You had been showing this side of yourself since Jungkook’s return, he couldn’t say he hadn’t been warned. And as your attitude grew worse, it was clear you had no intention of stopping; well, neither did Jungkook.

“It’s completely different.” — He rolled your name off his tongue in a resentful murmur, rolling his eyes and letting his gaze settle on the crowd for a few seconds; a girl caught his attention and winked at Jungkook.

It wasn’t, and he knew that.

“No, that’s not the problem.” — Your throat was starting to itch; it felt dry, and you wanted to order another drink, this time something stronger. You were sure that if you asked for one in front of Jungkook, he would either knock it to the floor or drink it right in front of you, probably. — “You’re never going to see me as a grown woman, damn it.” — What a relief.

Jungkook fell silent, accepting your words. He felt a pang of desolation and anger; it wasn’t difficult to recognize the discomfort in the conversation, you had never been very good at hiding your emotions. He could have simply stayed quiet, leaving you alone with your hurt, or finally gone back to the guy you had been talking to; no, Jungkook didn’t think twice.

“Because you don’t act like one.” — He shrugged, raising one eyebrow while lowering the other. — “Maybe you won’t anytime soon.”

Those words hit you hard, like a punch; a pain so miserable, filled with overwhelming sorrow. Disappointment and anguish walked hand in hand, you hadn’t expected that. You never expected to hear the man you had loved so much as a teenager, the feelings still lingering in your chest, never truly overcome, say something like that. In the silence that existed only between you and Jungkook, you couldn’t believe it.

Staring at him with glistening eyes, but not from emotion, from disappointment, you felt a ridiculous sting. You wanted to get away from him, away from that place; you no longer worried about Juria. She could handle herself, and a simple message from you saying “going home ;)” would be enough.

You had never felt so stupid.

“Okay.” — Your voice came out so quiet. Jungkook shouldn’t have been able to hear it over the music and the noise surrounding you, but somehow, impossibly, he did.

He realized the mess he had made — he promised himself Yoongi could actually kill him — but it was too late. Jeon called your name, his voice a little gentler, almost like he needed a pair of puppy ears drooping to match it. — “No, Jungkook.” — He tried to get your attention, reaching out and touching your arm, wanting to step closer and apologize, but it wasn’t enough. It didn’t matter anymore.

You refused to feel his touch, rejecting Jungkook’s attempt to get closer to you. You began to feel nauseous, a strong repulsion building in your stomach, disgust and anger toward him. Your chest was racing, and you could no longer endure all the noise and the crowd around you. At that moment, you weren’t thinking about finding Haein to try to lift your mood, continue where you had left off, and distract yourself. You just wanted to go home; you shouldn’t have gone out in the first place. That was the truth.

And so, you left; without looking back, without giving Jungkook a chance. He remained standing there, not saying another word, not daring to stop you; watching you disappear among the people in the room. It didn’t take long before Jeon could no longer see you.

For the first time that night, unlike what had happened in Gwangju, Jungkook felt exactly as he deserved to feel: like a complete idiot.

#5 GIRL, YOU MUST BE FROM THE OTHER SIDE.

Jungkook cruelly hated the bitter feeling, the pure misfortune that was growing in his chest; it was something fierce and overwhelming at the same time. That feeling, in the very few times he had experienced it, had followed him before but never like this, never with this intensity. He had ruined everything.

Fuck, he had really fucked everything up.

It had been five days since what happened at the party; five days of ignored messages, declined calls, and changes to your work schedule. Obviously, a lot had happened. — Well, he couldn’t really complain, after all, he had neither the moral high ground nor any dignity left. — For five days, he ended every conversation asking himself how many times someone had to type "i’m sorry" before the words completely lost their meaning.

Jungkook had tried. — In fact, he was still trying.

“She’s still hurt, Jungkook.” Or, “She doesn’t want to talk to you.”

Fuck.

Thinking back on the messages from his best friend, Jimin had repeated those words three different times. He wanted Jungkook to keep facing just how ridiculously he had behaved that night. After finding out what had happened, your brother greeted him with carefully restrained hostility, weighing everything between you and Jungkook.

Jimin knew, better than anyone, what was really going on with his best friend. Honestly, Jungkook couldn’t talk to Jimin the way he normally did anymore; the only person who ever saw this remorseful, melancholic version of him was Yoongi.

The only piece of advice he had actually followed — after ignoring countless others — was to find some way, any way, to talk to you. Still, Jungkook finally worked up the courage to ask Jimin something important; something that involved you.

And so, Jungkook stood in front of your front door, desperately wishing to put an end to the feeling weighing on his chest. He hadn’t expected that thought to sound so selfish. The truth was, he wanted to talk to you, to hear your voice. More than anything, he wanted to see you.

As he rang the doorbell, he felt a knot form in his stomach. It was strange, sending a slight shiver through him. Anxiety and nervousness settled in; he knew he was in the red zone. He lightly tapped the tip of his shoe against the ground while waiting for someone to answer.

Jungkook wanted to check his phone, but he knew that would only make things worse, and he was grateful he’d left it on Do Not Disturb. No one came to the door, so he rang the bell a second time. He wasn’t impatient; for you, he could have waited until the end of the next day if he had to.

Were you really going to avoid him forever?

While the doorbell rang, you were in the kitchen. You had gotten out of the shower not long ago and were looking forward to resting after another exhausting day at the magazine. — The new head of the photography department was awful. — On top of disrupting your team’s meeting, she had deleted several files containing photos and product previews for one of the company’s campaigns; she was a complete nightmare.

By the second ring, you were already at the front door, wondering if it might be Juria, you had grown used to the redhead dropping by unexpectedly or Jimin. To be sure, you looked through the peephole. — It was him.

Jungkook was standing at your door.

Tragic, and so utterly pitiful. — You had learned to recognize his name flashing across your phone screen and ignore it before reading a single message; when that wasn’t enough, you temporarily muted his contact. — On the bright side, it had worked but seeing him there was different. — You knew Jeon had stopped by your workplace a few times, including the day he first came back, because your coworkers kept mentioning him. This was so much harder; in the end, it seemed you weren’t going to get rid of Jungkook anytime soon.

After five days of trying to get your head straight.

“What are you doing here?” — You opened the door just enough to see him through a narrow gap. Funny, it felt like a pathetic case of déjà vu, because those were the exact same words you had said to him that day.

Jungkook stood frozen, swallowing hard. For a second, neither of you said a word. You looked exhausted, worn down and not because you were sleepy, but because of him. That hurt far more than he could have ever expected or imagined.

“We need to talk.”

“No.” — The answer came instantly, as if it had been sitting on the tip of your tongue for days, without a trace of hesitation. Jungkook took a deep breath and bit down on his lip piercing, an unbearable habit, both for himself and for anyone watching him. He said your name like a plea, the regret in his voice genuine, but you refused to give in. — “You already said everything you wanted to say, remember?”

He wished he had the chance to forget it all, to erase what had happened, to erase the fact that he had hurt you.

“I didn’t.” — He shook his head in denial. You remained unmoved by Jungkook’s words, refusing to give him the chance to explain himself or say what he needed to say. Why hadn’t you just closed the door? — “Please.” — You opened the door a little wider, not to invite him in, but to make it clear that he needed to leave. — “I want to apologize.”

You remained silent, allowing Jungkook to continue, but he expected more, and that frustrated him. He was genuinely trying, and Jungkook had never been good at trying when it came to things like this. He was doing everything he could not to appear vulnerable, preferring to hide behind anger instead. He knew it wasn’t the best choice.

“Did you come here to apologize, or to prove you were right?”

“Fuck, no.” — Jungkook rested his tattooed hand against the door, applying just enough pressure for you to notice. He wanted to come in, but he didn’t dare ask. He looked genuinely remorseful. He hated feeling this way, as if he needed your attention, your hand to steady him. — “I was angry. I didn’t mean to…”

“That doesn’t change what you said.” — Your voice was so strained, unable to hide the frustration behind it. You kept your eyes on him, catching every little movement the older man made. You hated the fact that, even in the middle of your anger, you still found yourself admiring him. Jungkook quietly whispered, “I know,” his gaze dropping to the floor. — “Then why did you say it, Jungkook?”

Jungkook hated the way you said his name now. It bothered him like burning embers dragged across his skin; he had never imagined it could affect him like that. He had never imagined the two of you would end up in a situation like this. Your voice, once so gentle and soft, now carried a fragile blend of indignation and sadness.

Why? — That was the question. the only one. And Jungkook hated it because there wasn’t a simple answer, because the truth was humiliating: because he had seen another man looking at you like that; because he had felt something he neither wanted nor should have felt; because he couldn’t stand the thought of someone else getting to know the parts of you he had always wanted to know himself.

“Because i care about you.”

“That doesn’t justify anything, Jungkook.”

“I always tried to ignore this shit. You were younger, you still are, you’re my best friend’s little sister, and i knew i shouldn’t have been looking at you that way."

Your breath caught in your throat, your eyes widening with shock and anguish. Jungkook blinked several times, the hand resting on the door pressing harder against it while the other ran through his hair, leaving it even more disheveled. His voice was steady, and somehow, that made it worse.

“Then i left, and you grew up, i kept pretending nothing had changed. That’s it.”

You stared at him in stunned disbelief, your expression caught somewhere between shock and confusion. You had never expected to hear a confession like that or those words from him. Your face betrayed an emotion that was impossible to read.

Part of Jungkook worried about how you were taking it, while the other part no longer cared. He just wanted to let out what had been trapped in his chest for years. — Neither of you had imagined this conversation would ever happen. — Honestly, you struggled to believe it was real, that Jungkook’s words were true instead of some cruel illusion. You didn’t know what to expect anymore and yet you didn’t feel like he was lying.

Why hadn’t you just slammed the door in his face and carried on as if none of this had ever happened? It would have been so much easier.

“Are you telling me that…”

“I’m saying you drive me crazy. You confuse the hell out of me.” — He wasn’t joking. Jungkook looked so serious, so resolute, that it made you swallow hard and open the damn door a little wider. — “You get under my skin.”

“You’re so arrogant.”

"I know."

“You hurt me, Jungkook. Do you really think you can just show up here and fix everything?” — With the door open, he could get a broader glimpse of the entrance to your home. It was small and cozy, the kind of place that radiated warmth and safety. It reminded him of you. Jungkook’s eyes swept over the room before returning to yours.

“No.” — He answered immediately. — “I don’t.” — For the first time, perhaps in all the years you had known Jungkook, you saw something different in him; fear. Not much, but enough. He was carefully choosing his words when, in truth, he wanted to tell you everything without a single filter or restraint. — “I just didn’t want to lose you.”

The silence between you and Jungkook was cruel, painfully so, merciless. — Your stomach churned, leaving you feeling strangely unsettled. You didn’t know what to say; you couldn’t think of anything. Funny, considering you had always been ready with a sharp remark or something to provoke him. You parted your lips, hoping to say something, to answer him, but closed them again almost immediately.

Jungkook took two slow steps forward, crossing onto the tiled floor of your entryway. He was so close now. He seemed like an entirely different man from the one who had argued with you at the party.

Less defensive, more honest. He was still stubborn, still proud but, at the very least, he was honest.

“Then why does it feel like you’re angry at me?” — You asked, unable to keep the sorrow out of your voice. You couldn’t bring yourself to look him in the eyes. It felt as though you were the one who should be ashamed.

The question caught him off guard because you had noticed; of course you had. You had always noticed everything about Jungkook, though it was never something you took pride in. Before answering, he let out a humorless laugh.

“I’m angry at myself…” — Your name left his lips with the same gentleness as always. Ever since he’d met you, there had always been a quiet tenderness in the way Jeon said your name, and you had always loved that about him. — “I spent so long trying to keep all of this under control… and in the end, all i managed to do was hurt you.”

As his words faded, your gaze dropped to Jungkook’s lips for a single second, a fleeting moment of vulnerability, of quiet openness.

Just one second, yet the two of you noticed it, and that was more than enough. — The same hand that had been resting against the door came up to cradle your face, the cool metal of the ring on his index finger brushing against your skin. — He held you so carefully. — His fingertips moved slowly across your cheek, as though asking permission to be there. Jeon waited for you, giving you every chance to pull away if that was what you wanted. His breath began to mingle with yours, and he made no attempt to rush, not a single movement; he kept waiting for the slightest sign that you wanted him to stop.

But, perhaps to Jungkook’s surprise, you didn’t pull away. You didn’t push him back; quite the opposite. Closing your eyes for a brief moment, exhausted from fighting your feelings any longer, you gave him all the permission he needed and so, Jungkook kissed you.

At first, it was hesitant. Just the faintest brush of lips, almost shy but the moment you gripped the fabric of Jungkook’s shirt and fully returned the kiss, all the distance the two of you had created over the past few days melted away, as though it had never existed.

Jungkook kissed you with unmistakable care, savoring every second, wanting to commit the feeling to memory. Your lips moved together slowly, unhurriedly, while your tongues met in a gentle, intimate kiss that gradually deepened. At the same time, both of your hands instinctively searched for closeness, for the comfort you had been denying each other for far too long.

Jungkook’s hand remained cupping your face, his thumb gently stroking your skin, while his other hand rested on your waist, pulling you closer. You could still feel the remnants of his anger lingering beneath the surface, intertwined with something else entirely, raw desire. Even so, he deepened the kiss with unmistakable care, silently showing you that, this time, he wasn’t trying to control anything.

The need to pull away from each other was almost cruel, but neither of you could complain. Silence settled between you for a few seconds, no, for a few long minutes. You were both stunned, especially you, not because of the kiss itself, but because of its intensity because of everything you were trying to process all at once. — He rested his forehead against yours, your breathing still uneven as the two of you silently tried to find your rhythm again.

You had never imagined finding yourself in a situation like this.

That didn’t mean you disliked it or that you had anything to complain about. — You had allowed yourself this moment; you had let him kiss you, let him touch you and part of you wanted more. — Jungkook had spoiled you already, and that wasn’t your fault.

He took your hand, his fingertips tracing slow circles across your palm before lacing his fingers through yours. The contrast in the size of your hands was impossible not to admire. A shiver ran through you, catching you completely off guard.

The closeness between the two of you felt so new — almost too new — and strangely unfamiliar. At the same time, it felt like something that should have happened a long, long time ago.

Of course, despite the small hesitations on both sides, your steps naturally carried you farther into your home. Whatever was about to happen didn’t belong out in the open or where your privacy could be invaded.

Without paying attention to where he was going, Jungkook kissed you again with unmistakable urgency. He felt addicted to your lips, to the taste of your mouth, as though he were committing the most beautiful of sins. He kissed you with longing and hunger. Shrugging off his leather jacket, he let it fall to the floor as if it hadn’t cost a fortune, then slipped off his shoes.

His hands never left your body; for the oldest, it was simply impossible to let go of you.

“Jungkook, fuck it…” — You mumbled between the wet kisses, the kind that created an unpleasant mixture of shared breaths and saliva, trying to scold him. He was desperate, completely out of control, and could only understand his own desire; you couldn’t really blame him, he had dreamed of this. — “Ggkie…!” — Jungkook liked that nickname and had never hidden it; it had been a long time since the last time he heard it. It wasn’t difficult to notice the way his lips curved into a quick smile as he whispered, “my beautiful”.

The leather belt joined the other pieces and accessories from the clothes Jungkook had discarded on the floor; he liked practicality, simple and straightforward. It was enough for the moment, he needed to breathe and keep himself composed, or at least try to. Jungkook’s large, tattooed hands grabbed your thighs before giving them a small tap and signaling for you to make a little jump, and not that it was difficult, of course, he lifted you onto his lap; your legs wrapped around his waist, fitting perfectly against him. Through the thin, delicate fabric of the shorts you were wearing, you could feel his arousal. It didn’t bother you, not even a little, but it sent a few sensations through your body and made you crave more closeness.

You could actually stain, wet the tip of Jungkook’s pants; the thought itself managed to fascinate you. It was bizarre.

“Please…” — He breathed, biting his lip as he looked at you with half-lidded eyes, completely overwhelmed by the moment. Jungkook felt almost ridiculous, like a teenager experiencing something for the first time, and he knew it. — “Don’t tell me your bedroom is too far away.” — His words came out quickly; he didn’t have the patience for anything beyond what was necessary.

Shaking your head, you guided him toward the room while he carried you, his steps following your directions.

Thinking about it, he had never been inside your home before; this would be his first impression. Even though he had seen and liked some of the photos you had taken in different parts of the house, that didn’t really count. — There was a first impression for everything.

Jungkook’s somewhat blind, heavy, and clumsy steps led him to the room he was looking for. He would have liked to admire your room, to take in every detail; perhaps, in the future, he might have the chance to see it more leisurely and with your permission. — The tattooed man laid you down on your bed, hovering over your body; Jungkook’s lips moved away from yours, etting them rest, given the visible swelling and redness and trailed down your neck. Licks, light sucks, and bites, which took her by surprise, were left upon your skin; you was no fool and realized that Jungkook wanted to leave marks on you. — Not to mention the older one’s leg moving between your thighs, specifically, his knee making contact with your intimate area, covered only by your shorts; the movements were light, slow, and torturous for you.

Every moan disguised as a sigh brought a wicked smile from Jungkook's lips.

"I used to dream about this, you know?" — He murmured, his voice hoarse and tinged with a hint of desperation; it was dry. Jungkook swallowed hard. — "Fuck, i dreamed about it so damn much…"— He didn't lie, there was anger and truth in his words; there should be shame, but he didn't know the feeling.

That didn't mean he didn't feel the courage to tell you all the things he'd ever thought about doing to you or about you.

His hands slid down to the hem of your shirt, signaling you intent to take it off and do exactly what he wanted. Since you was at home, there was no need to wear a bra or anything of the sort, it was a feeling of freedom; well, Jeon was certainly grateful for that. — He swore he noticed a trivial smile on the man's lips, similar to someone receiving a gift.— Jungkook's face moved away from yours, leaning down to the level of your breasts and it wasn't long before his mouth latched onto one of your nipples. He was sucking it hard, he was hungry, he wanted to taste it; Jungkook always paid extra attention to boobs, he didn't want to consider it an obsession, even if it seemed like it.— His tongue flicked against the sensitive tip of your nipple, the wet, incredibly loud sounds echoing through the bedroom; you knew your panties were soaked, and you could have come from that alone.

Fuck, you could cum — easily — with Jungkook sucking on your tits.

You didn't even notice that, with his hands free, Jungkook gripped the waistband of your shorts, along with your panties, and wasted no time pulling them down to the middle of your thighs; it was only temporary, as he was soon going to toss that garment onto the damn floor. Jungkook kept kissing your nipple, his chin slick with saliva, while you were delirious with pleasure, running your fingers through his dark hair; a silent plea for more. It was something you had always dreamed of.

With quick, practiced movements, the middle and ring fingers of the bastard’s left hand parted your pussy, making sure to touch the entrance, which was already soaking wet. He teased the idea of ​​penetration, pressing just the thick tip of his middle finger against the opening and sending a spasm through your body. — It had been quite a while since you’d had sex; you couldn't even quite recall the last time but you were certainly grateful for the state you were in now. — Jungkook’s finger slid in easily; you were well-lubricated, and even with your nipple in his mouth, Jeon was salivating.

"Uhuh…" — He grunted, tugging at your nipple before releasing it with a wet, dirty snap, then licked and played with the sensitive, saliva-soaked tip; — "You were really waiting for this, weren't you?" — He wanted to wring that confession out of you, even though he was in no position to judge right now. You had always wanted him, always. Jungkook bit his lip, unable to suppress the smile forming; his face was flushed, matching the color of your own lips, lips you had bitten yourself. — "My beautiful girl." — He kissed the swell of your tits. — "Come on, lift up a little…" — He gripped your thighs to steady you, and you obeyed, making room for him on the bed as your head rested against the headboard.

As intended, he removed your shorts and panties and tossed them aside, not caring where they landed. Jungkook left you completely naked, at the mercy of his presence. You couldn't help but feel a twinge of shyness — not in a negative or derogatory sense — before the man you had been in love with since your teenage years. Your legs drew inward slightly, your knees touching for a brief moment.

"Don't be shy, princess." — He whispered sweetly as he moved closer to your thighs. Jungkook’s gaze was affectionate yet tinged with desire and lust; he locked onto you effortlessly, without even trying. — "That doesn't suit you." — He clicked his tongue, parting your thighs and letting his eyes drift down to the wet sheen of your pussy. — "That’s not the girl i know."

You would like to hate this man.

"Remember we haven't seen each other in years." — You summoned the strength and the sheer will to try and counter his remark; you were right was true and very obvious. Jungkook laughed, at the same time, trailing short kisses down your inner thigh. You always had some answer on the tip of your tongue, the difference is that, in the past, you would struggle to try to talk, finish a bold sentence for whoever was provoking you.

"Of course, Aegi."

In that very instant — or rather, mere seconds later — Jungkook’s head was nestled comfortably between your thighs. You could have smothered him, and for Jeon, that would have been a dream come true. The tattooed man’s lips, accentuated by his piercing, and his tongue roamed over your pussy with an animalistic hunger, sucking your clitoris firmly but without excess or any hint of brutality. Jungkook reveled in the taste, kissing your pussy; it was filthy, delicious, and uninhibited. At times, he would suck on one of your folds, give it a gentle tug, and let it snap back with a loud pop. His tongue continued its up-and-down movements, grazing your opening.

You had goosebumps; waves of heat and tiny electric shocks rippled through you, it was surreal. You knew you weren't being dramatic or exaggerating, yet you felt on the verge of unraveling. Electric tingles shivered across your stomach and deep within your core, while your breasts ached with arousal, pure, unadulterated desire; seeking relief or attempting t you squeezed your still-damp, hypersensitive nipples with your fingers. Then, you felt your clitoris being gently sucked and tugged.

"Ngh,. Jungkook!" — You pressed the handsome young man's head between your legs; he felt the pressure you were exerting, yet made no move to stop it. Jungkook was kissing your pussy ravenously, as if he hadn't tasted it in years, driven by a hunger he wanted to satisfy; it seemed as though he wanted to devour you whole. — "Just like that, please…!" — Jungkook’s ears burned hot and red, flushed by the sound of your moans and the way you spoke his name, always with a soft, whimpering plea at the end as you called out for him.

"So delicious." — He growled between licks and quick sucks; even the tip of his nose was smeared with saliva and your juices. Jungkook found himself addicted even to your scent. — "Oh, princess…" — A laugh rumbled in his chest as he sucked your clitoris. — "You're going to let me eat you again, aren't you?" — Yes, yes, of course. Of course you’d let him.

In your desperation, you couldn't string together a coherent sentence; you could only utter Jungkook’s name, the one thing filling your mind and the only thing you could say out loud. Deep down, you wanted to match the filthy words he was directing at you, but you lacked the breath and the experience for it; still, you agreed with everything. Jungkook could do whatever he wanted with you.

He didn't use his fingers at all —even though he wanted to like hell — because, of his own accord, Jungkook wanted and preferred to eat your pussy. Using only his mouth and tongue seemed more fitting for an apology, too. Suddenly, he felt his scalp heat up and sting from a sharp tug of your hands, and your hips ground against his face; it was clear you was close to coming in Jungkook's mouth. Your body was trembling, a sensation akin to freezing, and spasms began to set in; your mouth gave voice to moans and the name of your brother's best friend.

You came in Jungkook's mouth.

Jungkook’s chin, lips, and nose were wet and likely glistening in the room's dim light and the angle at which he was positioned. He inhaled deeply to catch your scent. Without hesitation, he ran his tongue in one long, continuous stroke across your pussy and sucked on your clitoris once more; you nearly kicked him, involuntary spasms were to blame. Even though you couldn't see his face clearly, you knew you were smeared all over that damn man’s face. Naturally, he would be licking his lips to savor every last drop.

It all happened so fast. — In truth, you were in a daze; you hadn't fully regained your energy. — Jungkook was shirtless, revealing the countless tattoos scattered across his arm; one colorful design looked like a painting that extended up to the start of his shoulder, he had covered up some of his other tattoos with that specific one. You longed to touch them, to trace them with your fingers. He had also stripped off his pants and underwear; it was a level playing field now. — How the hell had he taken them off so quickly?

"I don't have any, ah.." — Jungkook murmured with a little shyness in his voice. Over your body, he distributed kisses on your neck, a few quick licks and you felt like you were in heaven, you knew you deserved it. — ".,no condom, i didn't know that.." — He hadn't known you two would end up having sex after the apology.

Shit, you felt the hardness, in addition to the weight, and pulse of Jungkook's cock passing, lightly, into your pussy; specifically, his glans scraping his folds. He was so big, not to mention thick; it was ridiculous to try to compare it with your casual affairs.

"Don't worry," — You soothed the oldest. You would take the pill, but you really should have accepted the box of condoms Juria wanted to buy for you; damn it all. — "Ggkie." — Your lips fit on Jungkook's lips, you were addicted to his mouth. You liked the way he caressed your tongue with his; it was similar to licking a lollipop. Your tongue was sucked, and you could moan with it.

As he kissed you, Jungkook penetrated you slowly and carefully. — He knew you weren't a virgin, thanks to a conversation he’d had with Juria while waiting for your brother to go out, and he couldn't deny the pang of jealousy and curiosity that had pierced his chest. — Every inch slid inside you little by little; it was a maddening, exquisite torture that left you craving more. The burning sensation was undeniable yet bearable, and you could feel every ridge grazing your warm, yielding walls; wet, squelching sounds echoed from where you were being filled. Your walls heated his cock and pulsed around it as Jungkook moved his hips, thrusting deeper into you.

At times, your teeth clashed against Jungkook’s lips—and his against yours, too. It was a desperate kind of kissing. You felt so small; his large, sturdy frame loomed over you, while your hands roamed over his muscular, tattooed arms, leaving faint scratch marks on his skin. — Damn, he was huge; in every sense. — You dug your fingernails into his shoulders, feeling him shift the rhythm of his thrusts.

"Are you going to take a piece out of me, sweetie?" — The false pity, compassion for himself, was easy to detect in Jungkook's voice. His wounds were stinging as the sweat mingled with them, yet he wouldn't dare complain or ask you to stop.

In response, your moans were a gift to Jungkook’s ears; his name escaped your lips amidst gasps and ragged breaths. Your furrowed brows and closed eyes betrayed the pleasure washing over you. You could feel his thick, prominent head striking that special spot inside you so deliciously, it was utterly delightful, magical. — That wet sound, so visceral, yet so pleasurable, echoed between your bodies, filling the room.

Shit, Jungkook growled, slamming his hips against yours with greater force.

"You can handle it, sweetheart." — Jungkook pressed his forehead against yours, brushing his nose against yours and your cheeks; he was sweet. He always had been with you. — With every thrust, Jungkook’s cock stretched you further, settling deep into your warm, yielding walls. — "Like that…"

Jungkook’s hands, gripping your thighs, spread your legs a little wider to create new space, allowing for deeper thrusts that drove you to the brink of madness. You could feel his heavy balls slapping against your skin, keeping rhythm with the wet, slapping sounds of your bodies colliding. Your legs trembled and quivered around Jungkook, and you moaned wildly for him as a sensation of burning, tingling, and fluttering heat rose in your stomach. — It was obvious. — Jungkook groaned and growled as he realized it, continuing his thrusts without breaking the rhythm, whispering a mix of sweet nothings and filthy talk laced with profanity.

So, you came. — Your body kept trembling; you felt cold and hot at the same time; not to mention the few small tears that threatened to fall and eventually did, wetting your cheek. Jungkook’s name escaped your lips in a low, almost inaudible murmur, yet he heard it. — The older kept moving his hips, maintaining the same rhythm, fighting against the way your walls tightened around and vibrated against his cock.

"Gongjunim," — Jungkook murmured as he kissed you completely clumsily, sucking on your lips and tongue. — "You're so good to me." — He bit your chin, chuckling mischievously; his low growl vibrated through your body. — "You always have been, haven't you?"

Jeon’s breathing grew ragged, and his moans, along with the force and speed of his hips, seemed to burn against your senses; the sound of the headboard banging might have embarrassed you, had you cared. Jungkook pressed his forehead against yours again, keeping his eyes open to admire you despite his blurred, hazy vision; he looked wild, yet godlike. Amidst those final hip thrusts, and driving deeper with satisfaction, Jungkook came inside you, filling you completely with his seed.

Even after a short while, roughly two minutes and a few seconds, Jungkook remained inside you; he could feel your pussy tightening around him at times, and he loved the sensation. — He was heated; who could blame him? — All the while, he kissed and caressed you with tenderness and affection. Silence filled the room, broken only by the sound of Jungkook’s kisses against your skin and the rhythm of your breathing.

"It's funny…" — Your voice was weak and a bit dry; you might look for water in a moment and it caught Jungkook's attention. Those dark, brilliant eyes, looking a little sleepy at the moment, gazed at you with curiosity.

"What?" — He asked, planting a lingering kiss on your forehead.

"…that i spent years trying to forget you…" — Your words came out as a whisper, something secret. — "…and it took just a few minutes to ruin all my pitiful effort."

Jungkook’s lips curved into a smile, making his piercing glint in the dim light; it was a pleasant, affectionate, and genuine smile. The classic smile that always greeted you whenever he saw you. It was an adorable and slightly peculiar confession in Jungkook's eyes; he chuckled at the words and pressed his lips to the tip of your nose.

"Thank goodness."

[zetaares]

summer love | j.jk

during a trip with your friends in brazil, you decide to go out to a nightclub, but who would have thought you’d meet the hottest man out there?

pairing: musician!jungkook x law student!reader

genre: smut with plot, strangers to friends, friends to lovers, part 1???

warnings: explicit sexual content, rough & passionate sex, dom!jk, light choking, fingering, shower sex, female oral sex (eating out), squirting, standing/bench sex, riding, pull-out method (mention of condoms!!), size difference, jk has got a curved veiny dick, mentions of an ex-boyfriend, emotional confusion, eventual love confession.

summary: while staying in rio de janeiro, a girls' night out leads you straight into the hands of a hot stranger who wrecks you for the night. what started as a wild vacation hookup turns into something neither of you can walk away from when fate brings you back together in LA a year later.

part 2: here

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“i don’t know about this dress,” your friend sophie said, checking herself out in the mirror.

“i like it. it looks good on you, soph,” andrea replied as she fixed her makeup, sitting in front of the shiny mirror in the hotel room.

you were having the holiday of your life in brazil with your best friends, what else could you ask for? after your ex-boyfriend broke up with you months before this trip, it had messed with your head. you weren’t even sure if you could get out of your house, let alone travel outside the country. he had confessed that he wasn’t sure about the two of you and that he hated himself for it, that he didn’t want to break up, blah blah. truth is? he cheated on you. no wonder he was so unsure!

“y/n,” sophie said, snapping you out of your thoughts. “girl, you look stunning! why don’t you try on my necklace?”

she walked toward you as she sat on the edge of one of the matrimonial beds, handing you a beautiful golden necklace that shone against your sunkissed skin. brazil’s sun was no joke.

“oh wow,” you started, looking at yourself in the mirror where andrea was doing her makeup. “it’s really beautiful, soph. thank you!”

“oh, it’s nothing! come on, ready to take some photos?” she asked, turning up the volume on the speaker as loud music resonated through the large hotel room.

“yeeees!” andrea squealed, jumping out of her seat and pulling you all into a group hug, everyone bouncing with excitement to be there.

you took some photos and posted them to your instagram story, just like your friends did. once you were all ready, you spritzed on some perfume and headed outside where your uber was waiting.

the ride made you feel like you were in a movie, windows rolled down, your straightened hair a mess in the strong wind, but it was perfect. you could even smell the ocean from copacabana’s beautiful beach. it amazed you how many people were still out at 1:30 am. you had eaten dinner at the hotel lounge before leaving.

the driver was hilarious, trying to talk to the three of you in broken english, but thankfully you knew how to speak the language. he even let andrea connect her bluetooth to the car stereo and blast loud music. you were so thankful for your life and your friends in that moment, and for once, you could let go of the heavy thoughts.

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there was a long queue to get into the club, with people chatting everywhere, but luckily the line moved fast and in less than ten minutes you were inside. the place was huge, a three-story building. sophie had managed to get vip tickets so it wouldn't be too crowded. the weather was insanely hot, so paying a bit extra for your own booths to dance and enjoy freely was worth it.

you went up the stairs and settled down in the area one of the hosts guided you to: two black leather couches facing a low table with a bucket filled to the brim with ice and vodka in the center. you looked at each other, and as if the music held some sort of magic, you automatically started moving your bodies to the brazilian rhythm. you swore those instruments awoke something inside you. you were dancing like crazy while andrea and sophie danced alongside you with big smiles.

at some point in the night, you couldn't even tell where you were standing. you took your sweet time taking in your surroundings. every single guy was so hot. andrea was already gone, probably making out with a handsome local, while sophie danced next to you, holding your hips while you both sipped on caipirinhas. you kept looking around, feeling like an absolute goddess. plenty of men were already staring and smiling at you, and you smiled right back.

you decided to turn all the way around and that’s when you caught sight of a tall guy over your shoulder. his face was full of piercings, and he clearly wasn't a local, he looked foreign, probably asian, and ridiculously hot. before you even had time to think, he was already walking your way with a bottle of beer in hand. you smiled, and he smiled back.

“heeey,” he said, joining you and sophie, moving his shoulders to the rhythm as he took a sip from his bottle.

you gave a nervous smile, but the alcohol in your system was already working its magic. you took your last sip of the night, leaned your back against his chest, and rolled your hips to the music. he reacted instantly, wrapping one hand around your hip and leaning down into the crook of your neck.

one thing was clear: he was bold, and you loved it.

“i like the way you move,” he murmured softly in your ear with a velvety voice that made you feel like you’d go crazy. the way he smelled didn't help either.

you didn't say a word as you felt his lips press against the back of your neck while you kept moving. you loved the way a single kiss from him made you feel.

sophie quietly left the two of you alone under the guise of going to the restroom. you had tuned out your surroundings long ago, this man was driving you insane, or maybe it was just the alcohol.

turning around, you took the beer bottle from his hand and set it on the table. you ran your hands through his hair, leaned up on tiptoes, and pulled him into a kiss. his reaction was instant, he kissed you back, pulling your body flush against his in a way that drove you wild.

when you pulled apart to catch your breath, he asked, “wanna go somewhere else?”

you nodded. “yeah.”

the moment the word left your lips, he laced his fingers through yours, and you grabbed your small handbag to head out.

he led you to his car. if you were sober, you never would have gotten into a stranger’s car, especially knowing he had been drinking!

you could barely walk straight, smiling at nothing in particular, just letting things happen. he opened the passenger door of a black audi and buckled you in. you watched him walk around the front toward the driver's side. he was wearing a burgundy shirt with several buttons undone, he’d probably opened them inside the club to beat the heat.

he drove quickly, and the next thing you knew, you were in an elevator riding up to the 20th something floor of a massive hotel.

“do you live here?” you asked mid-kiss, completely lightheaded.

he chuckled and shook his head, pulling you into another deep, steamy kiss.

the elevator doors chimed open, and he guided you to his room. a massive floor-to-ceiling window overlooked the city lights below.

as soon as he shut the door behind you, he pinned you against the wall and kissed you deeply, his large hand gripping your ass under your dress. you smiled, and he grinned back.

“cm’ere,” he said, unbuckling his belt, unzipping his jeans, and sitting down on the edge of the bed.

you followed him over and straddled his lap, a leg on either side of him. your dress had hitched up, revealing your legs and the black lace underneath.

“fuck, do you feel that?” he asked. truthfully, you couldn't miss how hard he was beneath you, and it was turning you on fast.

“mhm,” you hummed, kissing his neck as you unbuttoned the rest of his shirt. in one smooth motion, he discarded it, showing off a toned torso covered in tattoos and abs.

“fuck,” you breathed out.

he grinned. “like what you see?” he laughed and lifted you effortlessly to your feet. he found the side zipper of your black dress and slowly slid it down, helping you step out of it. he took you in like a piece of art, biting his lip. stripping off the rest of his clothing, he pulled you back onto the bed with him lying on his back, leaving you on top with your chest exposed to him. “you’re so hot,” he murmured, making your mind spin.

you smiled and decided to take charge, kissing him hungrily while your hands explored his body. you could feel his hard length twitching between your folds. you grinded down against him, back and forth, your natural slickness making every slide hot and effortless.

“yeah, come on, grind on me,” he encouraged, guiding your hips with his hands.

he leaned his head back with his mouth slightly open and eyes closed, taking in every single movement. then, grabbing hold of you, he flipped you beneath him, pinning you to the mattress. he trailed kisses down from your neck to your torso, licking your nipples until you squirmed beneath him. sliding lower down your stomach, he finally reached where you were aching for him most.

you bent your knees, and he settled between your thighs. he took hold of your legs, giving you a wicked glance with his dark eyes before leaning in to suck on your clit.

“oh, fuck yeah,” you gasped, gripping his hair to guide his movement.

“you like that?” he asked, sliding his tongue inside you with long, deliberate strokes.

“y-yes, so much,” you managed to choke out.

he shifted his weight onto one arm, using his free hand to stroke your body before sliding his fingers down to join his tongue, circling your clit. how was he this good at it? it was driving you completely wild.

“fuck yes,” you whimpered, lost in the sensation.

opening your eyes briefly, you saw him smirking down at you. he worked his fingers so well that your whole body was writhing on the bed beneath him, his strength and presence were driving you crazy. he circled his fingers faster, making you shiver and cry out.

“so beautiful,” he breathed out.

when you opened your eyes again, you saw him reaching toward the nightstand for a condom. you rolled onto all fours for him, just how you liked it. hard and fast from behind.

“damn baby, already on all fours?” he chuckled, giving your rear a firm slap.

he took you right there, pounding into you until the sound of skin hitting skin filled the room, driving you out of your mind. he pulled your wrists behind your back, forcing your head down sideways onto the pillow, leaving you completely open to him.

“f-faster... hmmm,” you moaned loudly, certain the rest of the hotel guests were going to complain.

jungkook didn't hesitate. he tightened his grip on your wrists behind your back, driving into you with a relentless, punishing rhythm that made your knees tremble against the mattress. every thrust sent shockwaves through your entire body, the friction and heat mounting until you were completely breathless, clinging to the edge of the bed as the intense coil in your core finally snapped.

you let out a broken, breathless cry as your orgasm crashed over you, your inner muscles clamping down tight around him. hearing you break, jungkook growled low in his throat, his hips accelerating into a few final, deep, desperate thrusts before he came undone into the condom, buried deep inside you.

he held you tight for a moment, both of your bodies slick with sweat as your breathing slowed. pulling out, he sat on the edge of the bed to get rid of the condom before lying back down next to you and rolling onto his stomach. keeping a comfortable distance between you, you both drifted off to sleep.

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morning light was already streaming through the massive floor-to-ceiling windows when your eyes fluttered open. for a second, you were completely disoriented, the gentle hum of the air conditioner and the bright brazilian skyline reminding you that you weren't in your hotel room.

a quiet shift next to you brought it all rushing back.

you turned your head slowly to find him sleeping on his stomach. both of his arms were stretched up on either side of his head, his face buried deep into the plush pillow. the soft morning glare hit his back, highlighting the sharp dip of his spine, the defined muscle tone across his shoulders, and the dark ink of his tattoos sprawling over his skin. he looked impossibly relaxed, completely different from the intense, confident guy who had pinned you to the bed hours earlier.

careful not to make a sound, you slid your legs out from under the sheets. you wince smiled at the faint, dull ache between your thighs, a pleasant reminder of last night, and tip toed across the cool floor toward the bathroom, quietly shutting the door behind you.

after using the toilet, you turned on the faucet, letting the cool water wash away the lingering fog of sleep and makeup. you splashed your face, grabbed a hand towel, and began patting your skin dry.

when you looked up into the bathroom mirror, you caught his reflection standing in the doorway.

he was leaning against the frame, sleepy eyed, dark hair delightfully messy, his gray sweatpants hanging loosely on his hips.

“morning,” his voice came out deep and raspy with sleep, a small smirk playing on his lips as his dark eyes met yours in the glass.

you turned around, resting the back of your hands against the edge of the sink. “morning. sorry! did i wake you?”

“nah, but i noticed the bed was empty,” he chuckled softly, taking a slow, barefoot step into the bathroom.

you smiled, heat creeping up your neck as memories of the night before flooded back. watching him step closer, you realized something ridiculous. through all the loud music, caipirinhas, and wild heat in the club, one tiny detail had been completely skipped.

“you know...” you started, leaning back against the marble counter, “we never actually introduced ourselves. what’s your name, by the way?”

he paused, an amused glint flickering in his eyes as he closed the remaining distance between you.

“jungkook,” he said softly. he reached out, his hands naturally finding your waist, his thumbs rubbing small, warm circles against your skin. “and you?”

“y/n,” you replied, feeling an immediate spark reignite the moment his skin touched yours.

“y/n,” jungkook repeated, letting your name roll off his tongue with a low, slow cadence that made your chest tighten.

he glanced over your shoulder toward the large glass shower enclosure, then looked back down at you.

“well, y/n... i was just about to turn the shower on,” his grip on your waist tightened, pulling you an inch closer until your stomach brushed against his. “care to join me?” he said, smirking as he stepped away from you, showing off his toned, tattooed back as he turned on the shower. “i don't bite, baby,” he added, catching you running a hand over your neck as you debated his tempting offer.

fuck it, you thought. for once in your life, you were feeling free, feeling good about yourself. you felt wanted again. none of this was something you could have lived with your ex, he was trash those last few months, making you feel like you were nothing, when you were so much more. this trip was part of your journey toward loving yourself again.

you walked over to him, sliding both hands up to caress that beautiful back you were already obsessed with. leaning in, you gently rested your forehead against the warm skin between his shoulder blades. the contrast was crazy, here you were, completely bare and raw, clinging to a man whose last name you didn't even know, yet finding this weird sense of safety in his warmth. he went completely still under your touch, the steady stream of the shower filling the quiet space between you for a few seconds before he slowly turned around to face you.

“all good?” he asked softly, a bit of genuine concern in his eyes. he clearly hadn't expected something so quiet and intimate from a late-night hookup.

“yeah, yeah, it’s just...” you started, trailing off as your eyes dropped to the floor.

he reached out, his thumb gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, “i think you’ve got some heavy stuff going through your head right now, am i right?”

the way he said it hit you right in the chest. he was reading you like an open book, seeing right through the brave face you’d been putting on all night. how could a complete stranger be this perceptive? it felt surreal how easily he seemed to get you without you having to explain a thing.

“i can make those thoughts go away,” he murmured, tilting your chin up until your eyes met his, searching your face for a reaction, a smile, anything.

you looked up, taking him in up close for the first time. his sleepy, hungover face was out of this world, his lips slightly parted, showing a glimpse of his teeth in a tender smile. you noticed the small moles on his skin and even his long eyelashes. you felt the warm tips of his fingers finding the hem of the oversized t-shirt he must have thrown on you last night.

you closed your eyes and slowly lifted your arms as he gently pulled the shirt over your head, the fabric smelling like him. your bare skin met the cool air of the bathroom until he closed the distance between you. you opened your eyes to find him staring down at you with an intensity that made your pulse race.

“you’re so beautiful,” he murmured, placing a hand behind your lower back to pull you flush against him.

he was being so gentle, so gentle it almost brought tears to your eyes. the way his lips traced your neck, your collarbones, and the shell of your ear made you fall for this feeling of being cared for, of being wanted. he brought his lips back to yours for a slow, unhurried kiss. there was no rush, just two strangers taking their time to feel everything.

taking a step back, he took off his grey sweatpants, revealing he had nothing on underneath. as he stepped into the shower, he held out a hand. you took it without hesitation, stepping into the warm stream as the room around you blurred, the heavy glass mirror fogging over completely.

he trapped you between his arms, your back pressed against the cool blue tiles as he kissed you again and again, the heat of the water mixing with the heat of your bodies. he slowly squatted down, trailing wet, hot kisses down your ribs and over your stomach, his lips brushing right against where you needed him most. all the thoughts in your head melted away, replaced by a desperate need. you wanted to fuck. you wanted him to fuck you.

“eat me out,” you demanded, your hands tangling in his wet hair as his grip on your ass tightened.

without wasting a single second, he parted your thighs, taking your clit into his mouth and circling it with his tongue. your body quivered against the tile. he slid two fingers inside you under the warm water, working you so sweet and deep that your knees buckled.

he stood back up, his chest heaving against yours as water slicked over his tattooed shoulders.

“turn around,” he rasped, his dark eyes fixed on yours. “let me fuck you real good.”

you obeyed, turning to rest your hands against the wide tiled ledge inside the shower, the built-in bench coming in ridiculously handy. bending your knees, you arched your back and lifted your hips for him, completely surrendered.

“ah fuck, let me grab a condom,” he muttered, his hand slipping from your hip as he prepared to step out, but you caught his forearm.

“don’t,” you said softly, a sudden flush of bashfulness hitting you because the only reason you were still on the pill was your ex. “i’m on the pill...”

he paused, his dark eyes locking onto yours through the steam. “you sure?”

you nodded.

he stepped back into the hot stream, positioning himself right behind you. you loved being taken from behind, feeling the raw strength of a man, of this man, working you so damn well. both of his hands gripped your hips as he aligned the head of his throbbing cock with your entrance. he slid all the way in with zero resistance, a dark smirk spreading across his face at how easily you took him.

“fuck, y/n, you’re so wet,” he groaned, pulling back slowly before driving back in. “hmm, yeah, so tight...” he spoke those magic words that hit your brain like a drug.

“hmm, god, i love it,” you gasped, taking the lead to roll your hips back against him, fucking yourself on his cock.

the wet slap of skin against skin camouflaged under the sound of the shower was driving you wild. you just wanted to soak in every single second, it was exactly what you needed. it was so dirty, so intoxicating that you swore you could feel yourself falling. and you were, your legs were literally giving up. sensing your knees weaken, he lifted you slightly, shifting you back onto that tiled bench. he gripped your shoulders, pounding you from behind.

“ah yeah,” he muffled, his hot breath hitting your neck as his chest pressed flush against your back. “you’re taking me so good, baby. go on,” he whispered, his hand reaching up to gather your wet hair into a messy makeshift ponytail. the pull tilted your head back, leaving your neck completely exposed as your soft whimpers echoed through the bathroom.

“hmm, harder,” you urged, and jungkook lost it. his movements became frantic, almost impossibly fast. his free hand found the front of your neck, resting there with just enough pressure to send a shockwave down your spine. “i’m close, i’m close, i’m—”

before you could finish, a wave hit you that you’d never felt in your entire life. your body buckled as you squirted, your inner muscles clamping around him in violent waves.

jungkook helped you sink fully onto the bench, letting you catch your breath as he gave himself a few quick, desperate strokes, coming with a low growl. he wiped the steam from his eyes and looked down at you, a genuine smile breaking across his face.

“that was... fucking hot y/n,” he breathed out, still trying to catch his own breath.

you felt dizzy sitting there. everything was spinning in the best way possible, that sensation was entirely new to you, so intense it barely felt real. you looked up at him and smiled, completely speechless.

“come here, let’s shower,” he said softly, washing his hands before popping open a bottle of shampoo.

you smiled, standing on shaky legs to join him under the water.

the whole thing felt crazy intimate. this was a total stranger you’d picked up at a club in a foreign country, yet here you were, sharing this quiet morning. you ended up laughing together when a bit of shampoo got into your eye, making you panic to rinse it out. jungkook laughed along, patiently helping you wash off under the stream, rubbing soap over your back and leaving a few tender kisses on your wet shoulders.

afterward, he managed to prepare you a quick breakfast. he’d picked up some fresh oranges during his stay in brazil, along with a loaf of bread from a local market. as you finished slipping into the oversized clothes he’d lent you again, you hopped up to sit on the kitchen counter and unlocked your phone for the first time since last night.

3:00 PM.

you had literally slept the entire day away. fucked in the shower, and now you were having breakfast, at 3:00 PM.

the second you dragged down your notification bar, your heart did a flip.

“oh no,” you gasped out loud.

jungkook turned around from the stove, a plate of warm toast with jam in his hands, looking at you with pure curiosity. “what?”

“15 missed calls...” you said nervously, rubbing your forehead as you quickly pulled up the group chat and typed out:

i'm alive!!!

i'm actually at a hotel

with a guy

jungkook grinned, hopping up to sit on the counter right next to you and taking a big sip from his glass of orange juice.

“i think you should probably call them, no?” he teased, his dark eyes sparkling.

“yeah, i definitely sho-,” you muttered.

the phone didn't even ring twice before the screen glitched and two panicked faces popped up at the exact same time.

“Y/N! WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?!” sophie practically screamed into her microphone, her hair a wild mess as she held her phone way too close to her face.

“GIRL, WE WERE ABOUT TO CALL THE POLICE!” andrea chimed in right behind her, shoving sophie out of the frame so she could stare into the camera. “we came back to the table last night and you were completely gone! we thought you got kidnapped!”

you winced, pulling the phone an inch away from your face while jungkook muffled a laugh into his glass of juice, enjoying every single second.

“i'm fine! i'm so sorry, guys, i swear i'm okay,” you said quickly, trying to keep your voice down. “i... uh... left… with someone.”

dead silence hit the call. sophie and andrea exchanged a look on their side of the screen before both of them yelled in unison.

“AHHH, YOU LEFT WITH SOMEONE?!” sophie shrieked. “the asian guy with the piercings? the absurdly hot one?!”

“uhm, yeah,” you stammered, feeling heat rush all the way up to your ears. “we went back to his hotel.”

andrea’s jaw literally dropped. “wait... it’s 3:00 PM. y/n... did you just wake up?! did you spend the whole night and the whole day with him?!”

out of the corner of your eye, you saw jungkook leaning over, curiously trying to take a sneak peek at your screen. the second you noticed him hovering, you completely blocked him, pulling the phone flush against your chest and glaring at him. he just let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head with a playful smirk on his face.

“andrea, shh! oh my god,” you hissed into the microphone, trying to regain control of the conversation.

“is he there right now? IS HE LISTENING?!” sophie whispered loudly into her mic, her eyes wide as she tried to inspect your background “HEEELLOOOO?!?!”

seeing his chance, jungkook suddenly leaned in close behind your shoulder, sneaking just half of his sleepy, messy haired face into the top corner of the frame.

“heeeey gir—”

you didn't even let him finish the sentence. instantly panicking, your thumb smashed the red button, cutting the audio off mid-word before he could even get the greeting out.

you dropped your phone onto the counter and buried your face in your hands, groaning out loud. jungkook burst into a full, hearty laugh, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull your flustered body against his side.

“you didn't even let me say hi,” he teased laughing while you sat there dying of embarrassment.

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that summer in brazil became a blurry, beautiful paradise. what started as a wild one-night stand melted into the best week of your entire life. you, sophie, and andrea ended up merging groups with jungkook and his friends who were also staying in rio.

you can still vividly picture that last sunset in copacabana. the sky was painted in deep pinks and gold as sophie splashed around in the warm ocean, screaming for everyone to get in. you remember jungkook grabbing your wrist with a toothy grin, his long fingers interlaced with yours as he dragged you laughing down the shoreline, both of you crashing into the waves. under the water, with the sun dipping below the horizon and nobody watching, he had pulled you flush against his chest to steal a few ocean-tasted kisses that made your heart ache before it was time to say goodbye.

one year later.

los angeles.

a lot had changed since rio. you were back in LA, grinding through your final year of law school, constantly buried under legal briefs and cases. jungkook had moved to the city too, pursuing his music career, his days spent in dark recording studios, his nights spent running around town.

and somehow, through the chaos, you two had stayed in each other's orbits.

you had his number saved in your phone, and what started as occasional text check-ins turned into routine hangouts. dinner, late night food runs, and eventual hookups. you weren't officially together, no labels, no promises… just two people who couldn't seem to untangle themselves from one another.

it was 11:00 pm on a friday night. the empty pizza box sat closed on the kitchen counter, and both of you had already washed up for bed. your 5th-floor apartment felt like a cozy sanctuary, high above the LA traffic. low, sultry rnb melted into smooth jazz from the bluetooth speaker on the shelf, filling the room with a warm, steady rhythm. mood lamps decored the living space in a soft gradient of warm purple and golden orange light, casting shadows against the walls.

jungkook was sitting back on your couch in his grey sweatpants and an oversized tee, his long legs spread casually as he waited for you.

“you’re staring,” you murmured, leaning against the doorframe of the bathroom with a hairbrush still held loosely in your hand. you were dressed for sleep in a matching baby pink velvet set, a soft cropped tank top and tiny velvet shorts that hugged your hips.

jungkook let out a low, raspy chuckle, running a hand through his dark hair as his eyes slowly dragged over your outfit. “can’t help it. you look ridiculously good in pink.”

setting your brush down, you walked across the warm floorboards, stepping right between his open knees to straddle his lap. jungkook’s large, warm hands immediately slid under the hem of your velvet shorts, resting flush against your bare thighs to pull you close.

“hmm...” you breathed, resting your hands against his chest.

“i missed you,” he whispered, leaning up so his lips brushed the shell of your ear over the gentle saxophone playing in the background. “spent all day in the studio thinking about you,”

the restraint snapped right there. you reached down, tangling your fingers in his hair, and pulled him into a heavy, bruising kiss. he groaned into your mouth, his tongue sliding past yours as his hands tightened on your waist. the kiss was raw, hungry, and entirely unhurried, perfectly timed to the slow music filling the room.

he slid your pink tank top over your head, tossing it onto the coffee table, before his mouth trailed down your jawline to your bare chest. he cupped your breast, taking one sensitive nipple into his mouth to suck on it gently, sending an electric shock straight down to your core. you gasped, arching your back into his mouth as his thumb hooked into your velvet shorts, pulling them off with practiced speed.

he pulled back just enough to look up at you, his dark eyes blown wide with desire as he shoved his sweatpants down his hips.

“ride me, baby,” he rasped, his voice heavy with command.

you didn't need to be told twice. gripping his broad shoulders for balance, you lifted yourself up, aligning your wet core over his hard length, and slowly sank all the way down onto him in one full, breathtaking movement.

“ah—fuck, jungkook—” the air completely left your lungs in a loud, shattered moan.

riding him was your absolute weakness, the absolute control, the deep friction, and the view of jungkook looking up at you with pleading eyes, through the purple and orange glow of the room drove you insane. you set a torturous pace, rolling your hips and grinding down against him before lifting yourself up to take him all the way in again.

“fuck, y/n,” he grunted, his tattoos flexing as his hands gripped your hips tightly, helping you set the rhythm. “you feel so fucking good... god, look at you...”

“mnh, harder, kook, d-deeper…” you whimpered, your head tilting back as you picked up the pace, the soft cushions of the couch taking every heavy impact as the music swirled around you.

he lifted his hips to meet yours, thrusting up into you with ruthless precision. “like that, baby? hmm? tell me how bad you need it.”

“yes fuck, right there,” you sobbed out, your voice echoing off the walls as your inner walls began to clamp desperately around him.

the sensation was completely overpowering. you threw your head back, riding him frantically until the intense pressure shattered into a full body orgasm. you cried out his name, your thighs trembling violently as the waves tore through you.

hearing you break was his absolute limit. with a guttural growl, jungkook gripped your waist, pulled himself out of you at the absolute last second, and came undone right across your stomach and thighs, his entire body shuddering beneath you as he held you tight against him.

for a long time, neither of you moved. you collapsed forward, resting your forehead against his chest as your breathing slowly synchronized with the low jazz fading out on the speaker. jungkook wrapped his arms tightly around you, rubbing slow, soothing circles into your back, his chin resting gently on top of your head.

as you lay there in the warm, ambient light of your apartment, the entire year flashed through your mind. you thought back to that chaotic, spontaneous night in Rio, how broken and lost you’d felt after your ex, and how this incredible man had casually walked into your life and helped you heal without even trying. from the Copacabana beaches to quiet Friday nights on your couch in LA, he’d made you feel so safe, so desired, and so deeply loved every single step of the way.

you were so overwhelmed with emotion that the words slipped out of your mouth before you could stop them.

“i love you,” you whispered softly against his skin.

the room went completely still for a split second. you froze, your heart hammering against your ribs as you realized what you’d just confessed out loud.

but jungkook didn't pull away. instead, a soft, breathless laugh escaped him. he tightened his hold around your waist and tilted your chin up with his thumb, forcing you to look at him. his dark eyes were shining with so much warmth it almost brought tears to your eyes.

“i love you even more,” he murmured softly, leaning in to press a tender kiss to your lips.

he pulled back just enough to look at you, a timid, slightly nervous smile softening his face.

“i know this might sound like a stupid question, considering...” he trailed off, gesturing vaguely between the two of you with a quiet chuckle, before his gaze locked back onto yours. “...but do you wanna make it official? i want to call you my girlfriend everywhere i go.”

you couldn't help the huge grin that spread across your face. leaning down, you kissed him again, sweet, slow, and full of absolute certainty.

“yes,” you whispered against his lips. “i’d love that.”

⊹⋰𓇼⋆⸝·⸝⋆꙳⊹⋰ ⊹⋰𓇼⋆⸝·⸝⋆꙳⊹⋰

HEY YALL, i had so much fun writing this, i just had to give them a plot, i’d love to write a pt2

let me knoooowww