Maki "fuck the clans system and their misogynistic ways" Zen'in would NOT of let the Gojo clan get even a SLIGHT hold on her family and their freedoms like that
As a kindergarten teacher, you’ve kind of been conditioned into being a nice person. After all, you spent most of your day surrounded by people with missing front teeth and shoes that light-up— it’s hard to be mean to children. Especially when they’re all so cute and squishy, have the doughiest cheeks on the planet and say the funniest made up words like, “bazillion-jillion” and “jiggly-wiggly.” They were endearing and they were sweet, often making your day without even meaning to.
The same couldn’t be said for their parents.
Areum is sitting in the reading area, backpack neatly placed atop her desk, when her father arrives. Clad in the same dark suit as always, Jeon Jungkook looks extremely out of place in your colorful classroom. “Daddy!” Areum beams, and he has the decency to at least kiss her forehead hello before jumping headfirst into battle with you.
Jeon Jungkook is a single dad, a fact Areum had randomly decided to disclose to you one afternoon in the sandbox, as children do, so you know he has a lot on his plate. Between working and raising a little girl, you imagine it’s difficult for him to unwind. The dark circles under his eyes are a force to be reckoned with, but you suppose it sort of adds to the sexy dad vibe he’s got going on.
(Not that you could ever say that to his face.)
And as understanding as you want to be of his situation, Jungkook is a little… annoying. He’s a good dad! That fact cannot be denied. But even you can look past your sympathy shades to say that scheduling his fifth parent-teacher meeting of the month is a little excessive.
He has this rather incessant fixation with arguing about her grades, convinced— as most parents are —that his kid is the smartest in the world. So even before Jungkook sits down, you already know what he wants to discuss. His briefcase hits the corner of your desk with a thud, before he flashily draws out a red sheet of craft paper from its depths, Areum’s art project from last week. Doesn’t even offer you a greeting. “This is definitely worth an A+.”
You sigh, pressing your hands against your face. “Mr. Jeon,” you begin slowly, “I’ve explained before that her art projects are not graded solely on the quality, but on her ability to follow instructions as well.”
Jungkook bristles, letting the sheet flutter onto your desk. Areum glances over from behind the kid-sized bookshelf, gives the two of you this pointed look as if she’s the adult in the room trying to reign in two fighting kids. The worst part is that it actually works; in a quieter voice, Jungkook hisses, “Areum’s art is good— I think you just hate my kid.”
Your jaw drops. “What—“ you blurt out, belatedly remembering to keep it down. You push yourself to your feet, arms crossed over your chest. “I do not hate anyone’s kid,” you spit, “much less one as as sweet as Areum.”
Jungkook’s jaw twitches, hands on his hips. “I know she’s sweet,” he spits, briefly glancing over at where the topic of your heated interaction is flipping through a a butterfly book. “Sweet and talented, which is why she should’ve gotten an A+, and not a B+.”
You roll your eyes. “Again, not based on her talent only, Mr. Jeon.” Like a kid, he copies your pose, the sleeves of his suit a little strained as his muscles bulge beneath the fabric. He even looked hot when he was mad. You stomp that thought down, whirling around to reach for Areum’s weekly performance review which you hastily slap down onto your desk. “Look,” you huff, flipping through the sheets carefully held together with a pink paper clip, “she’s good at art, but struggles a little with the instructions.”
Jungkook’s sighs, the sound practically a growl from how it catches in the back of his throat. And despite the annoyance wafting off of him in waves, he tries to subtly lean closer to get a look at your notes. He doesn’t drop his stance, doesn’t even apologize for coming on so rudely— not that it’s the first time —without knowing the situation. He remains as on edge as he was when he first walked in. “‘Needs to have instructions repeated multiple times,’” he recites, eyeing your detailed review.
You nod, trying to push the paper closer to him; Jungkook is standing a little too close now, the scent of his cologne tickling your nose. “She tends to get ahead of herself,” you explain, glancing over. You nearly flinch when he looks back, so close. His gaze is solid and unwavering, meeting yours with a serious glint in his as he listens carefully to what you’re saying. “She needs to work on listening first and then doing.”
For a minute, Jungkook doesn’t say anything, choosing to just rub his hand against his chin as he mulls over the information you’ve just presented him. And while standing beside this awfully gorgeous yet slightly hardheaded man is a little overwhelming, it’s better than having him accuse you of hating his five year-old kid. Areum peeks over and you offer her a tight-lipped smile, which she returns with her own sparkly grin. It eases your nerves.
“Okay,” Jungkook suddenly announces, clapping his hands together. The sound makes you jump, makes Areum run over too. He points a finger your way. “So help her improve her listening skills,” he says, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. “That’s your job, right?”
You frown. “My job is to teach her,” you correct, unimpressed. “A child’s listening skills are something they usually develop at home.”
“At home?” he repeats, mindlessly placing his huge hand on the top of her tiny head. Areum’s got the same dark brown hair as him, the same glossiness and all, too. “So can’t you just come over and help her?”
You choke. “What?” you cough, flustered at Jungkook’s suggestion and how easily it’d rolled off his tongue. “I’m her teacher, Jungkook, not her tutor or nanny or whatever.”
“Miss __ is gonna come over?” Areum exclaims, clinging to her father’s pant leg.
“No,” you rush to correct, trying to respond in a way gentle enough for Areum but blunt enough for Jungkook. “That would be very inappropriate of me, Areum.” The aforementioned father rolls his eyes, stuffs the hand not petting Areum’s head into his pocket.
“Why?” she asks, as most kids do.
You sigh, straightforward in the glare you send Jungkook. “Only people you know and like should be going to your home, honey,” you try to explain, offering her the best, if strained, smile you can muster.
Areum blinks. “But I know and like you,” she says, and you’re touched for all of two seconds before she feels the need to tack on, “and Daddy likes you, too.” You freeze and it’s Jungkook’s turn to jolt in surprise. Areum pushes on. “Yeah, Miss __,” she nods, seemingly recalling a far distant memory. “Daddy calls you the pretty lady from school, mmhm.”
The blood rushes to your face. Jungkook jumps to his own defense. “No,” he chuckles nervously, trying to play it off as he glances between you and his child, “that’s— I didn’t say that, Areum.”
Another frown from the tiny human dead set on embarrassing the two of you. “What? But Daddy, you always ask about Miss__ and you always wanna visit school just to see—“
He interrupts her with a loud cough, cheeks aflame. Not that you’re any better, suddenly unable to look him in the eye. “We should, um,” Jungkook stammers, reaching for his briefcase, “head home now. Yes.” You nod meekly, clumsily handing him Areum’s art project before he can forget it on your desk. Your hands bump and the both of you stumble over each other’s apologies, choppily bidding each other goodbye.
“Bye, Miss __!” Areum calls, unaware of how she’s just reduced two functional adults into stuttering messes. Jungkook, who you previously wanted to throttle for being so annoying and insistent, spares you a shy glance that sends a tingle down your spine. “You can come over whenever you want! Daddy can make you dinner.”
in which y/n and jungkook cuddle as /friends/ (and jihope are disgusted)
(a/n: inspired by jikook in that one run ep where they wore pjs.... this has been in my drafts for so long, i was meant to add more details and edit it but i came back to this today and i was like fawk that, i’m posting it! so yeah....i hope this is fine that’s all feel free to send constructive feedback but pls be nice </3 and yea see u guys next whenever bc my inspo comes once a year LOL)
“i feel sick.”
beside hoseok was jimin, whose eyes were narrowed into slits at the scene in front, his hand absentmindedly shoving a popcorn into his mouth. “me too. i wanna throw up.”
it’s tradition that jungkook has his small group of friends come over on thursdays for movie night, but it was the first time that you had been available to come and, well, jungkook couldn’t help but feel excited at the thought of having you there. at first, you were a bit hesitant knowing it was all boys and you, but he was able to persuade you (‘please, the only reason i’ll feel like watching is if you’re there?’ oh and if he didn’t, the boys wouldn’t be happy with him breaking the tradition) and it’s not like they were strangers. (or it’s not like you didn’t feel giddy at the thought of being there as well.)
tonight, the group decided to have a final destination marathon. but hoseok and jimin’s exchange in comments weren’t directed at the gruesome death playing on tv or at tae drooling in his sleep, but at the giggling pair of bodies sprawled out on the floor - and that was you and jungkook.
to say jungkook was whipped for you was an understatement. he was always craving your attention. when you were together, the rest of the world thirdwheeled. laughing wasn’t a crime for jimin and hoseok. it was the slowburn, the oblivious flirting that was so excruciating for them to watch. the lingering stares, elbow nudges, the constant teasing.
the night started with everyone coming over one by one, you being the last and most awaited (for jungkook, atleast). you rang the doorbell and it was the fastest the boy had stood up in his life that his vision had blacked out for a good ten seconds.
you heard the door unlock and you liked to believe jungkook’s eyes lit up at the sight of you.
“hi,” he greeted softly and you felt your insides melting at the beauty in a dark grey carhartt shirt and strap cargo pants. you hadn’t seen him in a week.
“hi.” you smiled and his eyes lingered on yours for a few seconds until you shrugged at the short silence, feeling too self-conscious under his stare. “so...?”
“come in,” he said, stepping aside for you and you allow yourself to walk inside his home. “y/n’s here!”
jungkook closed the door behind you before you felt his hand at the small of your back guiding you to the living room. it almost felt like it wasn’t there with how careful and feather-like soft he was touching you if only you hadn’t been hyperaware of how his hand felt on you and the warmth it sent all through your body.
“hey!” “y/n!” “what’s up?”
before the movie started, you took the spot on the carpeted floor, back leaning against the sofa and legs stretched out as you were most comfortable that way. sure enough, jungkook sat as close to you as possible, arms touching, so the two of you could fit under the blanket he had draped over you. you felt something tingle at the pit of your stomach at the close proximity that it almost made it difficult for you to focus on the movie.
when he felt you slide your legs up and raise your blanket to your chin he didn’t waste any second to ask you. “oh, hey, are you still cold?”
“um, just a bit.”
he pulled the blanket off the two of you and immediately you shivered at the lack of cover. you watched in confusion as he scooted forward, tapping your knees so he could slip inbetween and lay his back on you before pulling the cover over once again. it was then that your heart rate had skyrocketed and you froze at this unexpected move. “body heat...”
it was a brief moment of feeling bold when he had done it which immediately died because, well, he hadn’t thought this through; it was too an impulsive move when both of you had never done skinship like that before. suddenly, he felt stiff and awkward. had he overstepped a boundary? he’d ruined it, didn’t he. what if you were uncomfortable? he didn’t want that...
truly it felt awkward and the pounding against your chest was loud that you were sure it was impossible for him to not hear with his head on your chest, but jungkook’s mind was running with 20 milli-thoughts per second and his quickened heartbeat itself was ringing in his ears to even notice yours. only then when he was about to mutter an excuse to take it back when you’d relaxed into his cuddle, hands that were previously awkwardly raised in the air now dropping to his shoulders briefly before you take it further and cross them over his chest in a loose hug. it was...nice. and effective.
it was halfway through the second movie when jungkook had decided that the marathon was over for the both of you. he steered your attention away to more random, silly things and now you’re laughing at his toe socks, which he had shown you because he knew you always thought it was funny. this didn’t go unnoticed by hoseok and jimin, to which they reacted.
“get used to it,” seokjin interrupts and both their heads shoot up to look at him.
“they’re always in their own bubble,” hoseok comments.
“yeah...happens all the time,” seokjin says, paying his attention back to the movie. “get a girlfriend maybe.” hoseok nudges him on his side in offense.
“or boyfriend,” yoongi butts in from jimin’s side.
“your hands are so small,” jungkook teases, removing one of your rings from your finger so he can try it on his pinky.
you scoff sliding it off him, “they’re normal-sized. yours are just big."
he smiles, but your still icy fingers go unignored when he pulls the blanket over your bodies and hesitantly, he grabs both your hands under to enclose them in his for more warmth. second bold move of the night. you feel your heart race at that once again and there’s a rush of heat to your cheeks. thank god the lights are off.
you look around and everyone else is asleep on their own. “you know,” he starts, closing his eyes as he snuggles more comfortably and rubs both his thumbs on your palms to soothe you, “you’re more comfortable than my couch.”
you laugh. “thank you? i’m afraid you owe me a massage after this though.” you’ve been in this position for 2 movies back-to-back and your back was starting to feel like hell.
“oh sor-“
“no! no, i mean, it’s okay,” you say, pulling him back before he can leave the position when he’s already withdrawn his hands from yours. ”i didn’t say i didn’t like it. it’s...still cold.”
you feel flustered at your own excuse, but the aching of your back is nothing compared to the feeling of having jungkook right here, in your arms. there’s butterflies in your stomach and you can’t see the way he’s smiling but, you’re hoping he feels the same.
Anyways, I hope Modula ends with Yuji jolting awake and going, "damn that was wild, anyways I'm hungry" and going to get breakfast with Nobara and Megumi
Jungkook is scheduled to visit you today after practice, his towel already set out on the bathroom sink. It’s his favorite one, the grey one that he reaches for after a post-practice romp in the sheets. He’s always so warm after practice, smells like the off-brand shampoo in the locker rooms and his typical meathead body spray and deodorant combo. It’s sour, something between pine and wolf piss and stainless steel; y’know, typical college athlete stuff. Pungent as it may be, some deodorant is better than no deodorant.
The trek to the campus’s state of the art football stadium is a fifteen minute walk, and ten of those minutes are spent debating just how much you like your boyfriend that you’re willing to face the absolutely rotten stench of the football locker room. It’s only thing more acrid than Jungkook’s horrendous post-practice body spray, the scent of the locker room itself. By the time you arrive, you decide you like him enough. When he does things like this, not a lot. But it’s enough.
Jungkook’s hair is wet when you walk in, and he’s straddling one of the locker room benches, two meaty thighs slung on either side. “Hiii,” he sings, leaning back to showcase his absolutely massive bosom. He’s got his stupid smile on, the one he flashes you whenever he knows he’s done something wrong. In this case, the ‘something wrong’ in question is summoning you from your evening nap to deliver his emergency deodorant. The walk has calmed you down a bit, enough for you to shuffle close and drop a kiss against his forehead. He closes his eyes like a good boy, and goes to envelope you in a hug. But then the absolutely atrocious smell of his body, post-shower, no deodorant hits you and you jump away. “Baby,” Jungkook whines, catching the deodorant your throw his way with one hand — sexy — before yanking up the hem of his shirt to roll it on. His abs are taut, always so delicious after practice, and they play a huge role in drawing you back towards him. “My hero. My savior. My beacon of light in a sea of—“
“That’s enough,” you shush, sitting down in front of him. Jungkook beams, leaning forward to place a kiss against your cheek. Now that his atrocious smell has been quelled, you allow him a few more smooches, along your jaw and down your throat. He tries to get frisky, huge palm on your thigh, creeping towards your mound, but you catch him by the wrist. A warmth crawls up the back of your neck. “We’re in your stinky locker room,” you frown, eyes flickering toward the open entrance you had walked in from.
Jungkook, now having moved past his good boy act, rolls his eyes. “So? You owe me.” You don’t ask for what, mostly because you know Jungkook will probably make up some elaborate lie to get you onboard. And while sometimes his little scheming is cute, there’s a high possibility that he will end up on a tangent about something completely unrelated and then no one will get any action. Another glance at the doorway. You decide the irregular creaks and thumps are probably just the old piping.
You turn back and catch his chin between your hand, squishing his cheeks until he looks like a puffer fish. “You get ten minutes, and if I don’t cum you’re going straight home,” you warn him, punctuating your statement by releasing your grip. Immediately, you’re upon him, nearly send him and you tumbling backwards when you grab him by the collar and haul his face towards yours. Jungkook’s excited whoop is muffled by your kiss, lost under the wet smacking of your lips.
He settles soon enough, reaches those brawny arms around you. Amidst all the locker room smells, the scent of his familiar yet weird combo comforts you, makes you melt into the kiss. Jungkook’s hands work fast; as much of a goofball as he is, he knows when to get serious. His shirt is tugged off with one smooth yank over his head, and yours follows, two hands at your waist that slowly creep up. Your bottoms are a bit more difficult, forcing the two of you to your feet as you wiggle them off, kicking them off to the side just in time for Jungkook to push you back down onto the bench.
The surface is hard and flat, makes your back arch all weird. But you can’t complain when Jungkook lowers himself between your legs, yanking the hem of your panties to the side. “I can do it in seven,” he smirks, before diving tongue-first into your folds. He starts off with one long lick, cunt to clit, that sends a pleasant shiver up your spine, a tiny gasp passing through your lips.
Enveloping your clit with his lips, he begins lavishing it in a series of soft kitten licks and more brutal sucks, dark eyes flickering up to assess your reactions with each switch. All the while, Jungkook’s hand — the one that had been placed on your inner thigh, holding you open — glides over your skin, raising goosebumps in its wake, until he’s caressing the soft skin of your labia with his thumb. Soon, his fingers graze the length of your slit before dipping into your core.
“Ah—,” you choke out in surprise, your feathery tone echoing off the walls of the locker room. Jungkook grins, letting out a soft amused puff against your wet folds that makes you tremble anew. He begins plunging his fingers in and out, trying to match the rhythm of his thrusting with the circling of his tongue. It’s not perfect, but that makes it all the more enjoyable; when you’re not enjoying the stretch of your walls around his thick fingers, his mean suckling against your bud is making your toes curl. “Oh, fuck,” you gasp, reaching down to bury one hand in his wet strands. They ‘re ice cold, darkened by the moisture that still clings to them, and Jungkook has the audacity to offer you a lazy wink. You jolt, both in response to his fast fingers and just his audacity in general. “Shut… shut up.”
He pulls off with a pop, cherried lips glistening with saliva and your pre-cum. “Didn’t even say anything,” he teases, tilting his head in amusement. The hair not caught between your fingers spills over, tickles the top of your thigh as Jungkook resolves to placing kisses along your mound instead. His hand, still moving, slows to a more forceful prod into your heat, his two fingers scissoring you slowly.
Jungkook does that for a while, leaning his cheek against your thigh as he gazes up at you dreamily. You want to cover you face, hide yourself from this disgustingly in love fool and just bask in the warmth building in your stomach. But he’s so handsome, so dreamy, even when he smells like pine and wolf piss and stainless steel. “Hurry up,” you shudder, letting go of his hair to tuck a strand behind his ear instead.
Jungkook’s cheeks heat up, and he tries to cover up his shyness by completely snatching his fingers out of you. A short-lived whine slips past your lips, but it’s soon replaced by a high-pitched moan when Jungkook begins to rapidly rub his fingers over and over your cunt, the very tips pushing your swollen clit back and forth. “K- Kook,” you squeal, thighs trembling with the threat of clamping shut. But Jungkook holds you down, dark brows furrowed and jaw clenched as he rubs you off. “Slow,” you choke out, hoarse, but the word dies on your lips as the simmering heat in your core begins to spill over. Your neck muscles practically give out, head lolling backwards as your back arches. Jungkook doesn’t slow down, even when his hand against your pussy begins to sound wet and obscene, squelching loudly as you orgasm against his rough digits. Every sound bounces off the lockers, filling the room with your mind and your wetness, makes it sound like the chanting of a roaring crowd on game night. Jungkook pushes on, doesn’t give up until you’re begging for him to stop with tears in your eyes.
In the end, he places a kiss against your thigh. “Sweet,” he grins, reaching for your clothes on the floor. “New record— six minutes. That’s my second record on campus, actually, right after my legendary 4 touchdown game.”
A thin trail of sweat trails down the center of your spine, crawls between your shoulder blades and down the small of your back, only stopped by Jungkook’s rough palm that’s assumed position there, holding you against him as you rock against his thighs. “That’s it,” he purrs, lips against your throat. Just last week, he had placed mark after mark against you, painting you in dark blossoms that had you wearing turtle necks for the rest of the week. Now, he’s soothing over the tender skin with his tongue, hot breath fanning over the wetness.
He’s fresh out of practice, still so sweaty and smelly, wet strands of hair hanging over his forehead. When he first came up behind you, earning a startled shriek from you and about fifteen different glares from the bustling campus life around you, you had been reluctant to let him close. Now, approximately twenty minutes later, you’re refusing to let him go.
He’s wearing those slutty shorts all soccer players wear, stretched taught around his muscular ass, hem halfway up his thigh. It’s impossible for you to ignore him when he has those on. His hand glides over your spine, settles against the nape of your neck. “A little faster,” he murmurs, trailing his lips up your throat, along your jaw. “It’ll feel better if you go faster, angel.”
Another jerky roll of your hips. His thigh muscles tense beneath you, provide juuuust the right amount of friction against your tingling folds to make you mewl. “Do— don’t do that,” you puff, fingers digging into his shoulders. “I’ll come.”
Jungkook grins, dark eyes zeroed in on the trembling of your lower lip as you speak. “Isn’t that what you wanted?” Meanly, he pushes his thigh into you, pulls you down against him, makes it so your folds are forcibly and roughly spread apart against his warm skin. You suck in a tight breath, choking on his name. Jungkook laughs. “Just wanna cream yourself on any part of me you can. Bet you’d fuck yourself against my knee if I let you.”
“N- Not true,” you stammer, clenching your jaw as you snap your hips forward. Your clit just barely grazes his skin, but the bud is so sensitive, even that much is enough to make you cry out against him. Jungkook grins, pressing his smile against your jaw. His thigh was one thing, but his knee was absurd! You wouldn’t do that. (Would you?)
Two hands on your hips, he guides you through the motions. “Sure,” he teases, making sure to routinely tense up the muscles in his thigh with every grind of your cunt against him. “Ah, you’re making me so dirty,” he pouts, kissing along your cheek. Beneath all your whimpering and moaning, the lewd sound of your wet folds against his equally as wet skin highlights your performance, makes your cheeks burn when you focus on it a second too long. “What a dirty girl.”
You whimper, your entire body going numb as you grind yourself against him. He’s warm, sturdy. Feels like a huge teddy bear when he pulls you close, drowning you in his smell. Still a little stinky, but your lusty mind excuses that fact as you continue on your mission. Your movements grow uneven, pitiful whines filling the air between the two of you as you chase after the feeling dangling right before you. Jungkook does his best to help you along, choosing to ignore his own raging erection in favor of pushing you down against him even more. It hurts, but it’a the good kind of pain. “Come on, baby,” he huffs, nudging his nose against yours, “just a little more. Then I’ll fuck you, promise,” he murmurs, brushing his lips against yours. Your pussy clenches at the low timbre of his voice, tightening up as a slow and well-earned orgasm washes over you. “I’ll fuck you real good.” It’s nothing compared to what he’ll do to you next.
ooooh if ur comfortable with it can u do: Jungkook + he's a little jealous (in a healthy, hot way)? that's all I could think of but im a sucker for jealousy and a little pining <3
“People will look at you,” he pouts, sadly slumped over the edge of your bed, watching you get ready. He’s been pleading his case since he first walked in, eyes dragging over your frame in the tiny black dress you’d donned for the night. It’s girls night, a well-deserved outing after such a long week, so you’d gone the extra mile to get all dolled up. And while he may have been appreciative of the sight at first, his interest was quickly replaced with a frown. “You just look so good,” Jungkook mumbles.
“Why, thank you,” you laugh, eyeing your makeup in the mirror once more. Jungkook’s reflection is slightly behind yours, lower lip tucked between his teeth as his gaze traverses the length of your exposed legs. You turn around, leveling him with a smile as you readjust the straps of your dress. “I’ll be home before midnight,” you assure him, sauntering over to place a kiss against his lips.
Jungkook accepts it with a soft sigh of defeat, pushing himself up onto his elbows. “Better be,” he murmurs, catching your hand in his before you can slip between his fingers and disappear for the night. He squeezes, finally letting go of his childish jealousy to bestow a genuine compliment against you, raising your knuckles to his lips. “Have fun, gorgeous.”
And you do have fun, dancing and drinking with your friends for a couple hours. Just as Jungkook had said, people do look your way, stroking the flames of your confidence, but all you can think about is the hunk waiting for you back home. Said hunk is bombarded with kisses the minute you get home, your friends dumping your tipsy self into his arms before hopping back into their Uber. “Oh, wow,” Jungkook chuckles, helping you inside.
He helps you onto the nearest seat, dropping to a knee as he works on undoing your strappy heels. “I’m homeee,” you slur, swaying back and forth until Jungkook has enough and hauls you into his arms, princess carrying you into your shared bedroom. “Look at me allll you want,” you sing, letting out a giggly yelp as he dumps you onto the mattress, dress slipping further up your thighs.
Jungkook huffs out a quiet laugh, rifling through the drawers of your dresser for some comfortable clothing. “Trust me, I will,” he plays along, returning to your side, helping you out of your dress. Having gone bra-less for the sake of your dress, your naked breasts are revealed to the cool night air, the sight of them painting a soft red hue over Jungkook’s cheeks. Such a fact doesn’t go unnoticed by you, arms winding around his shoulders to pull him closer.
“Fuck me,” you exhale, messily engaging him in a kiss that involves too much teeth and too much tongue. Jungkook doesn’t mind, just lets out a strained exhale as he forces himself away. He places his hands against the mattress, the tiny charm on his necklace swinging out from beneath the hem of his neckline. It swings back and forth like a pendulum, your eyes following the movement as if you were being hypnotized. “Jungkook,” you murmur, fingernails against his scalp. When you pull him in for the second time, he indulges you in a wet kiss, tongue gliding against yours. A tiny moan escapes you, swallowed up by his mouth.
Your legs are drawn around him, heels pressed against the base of his spine as you encourage him closer. Beneath the front of his pajama bottoms, the beginnings of his arousal stir, half hard cock teasing you over your panties. “Just a little,” Jungkook warns, cutting your tiny cheer of celebration short when he grinds down against you, the hot and heavy press of his cock against your folds making you shiver. “You’re still drunk.”
Even with his hips slowly grinding against you, you manage to whine in protest, weakly pounding your open palms against his shoulders. “Don’t you want me?” you frown, capturing his bottom lip between your teeth, giving the tender skin a little tug that results in a harsh exhale from Jungkook. “All the guys at the club did…”
A mixture of a surprised cough and a chuckle escape him, his hips nestled between your thighs. “Did they, now?” he plays along, guiding your hands away from his shoulders, fingers tangling with yours until he’s pressing your entwined hands against the mattress above your head. “But you only want me.”
oo requests?? can we get some jungkook fwb? (honestly never see enough of it)
Everyone knows you’re his favorite girl, even him. He makes a point of announcing it every chance he gets. “There she is,” Jungkook grins, and he looks even more handsome under the dim glow of the bar lights. His thigh is your seat, gestured forward with two careful pats from him, his long fingers decorated with rings and tattoos alike. “My favorite girl.”
His favorite girl gets certain privileges the other girls don’t get to enjoy; he’ll leave the bar at your request, come running to your apartment at the crack of dawn if you so much as ask. “I’m lonely,” you whine over the phone, toying with a stray thread on your sheets, and twenty minutes later, Jungkook will appear. Sometimes drunk, sometimes faded. Sometimes completely sober. He fucks best when he’s sober, spreads your legs apart and licks a long line from your hole to your clit until your entire body quivers from the pleasure.
His favorite girl gets to push him around as much as he does you, pin his hands above his head and ride him like a cowgirl. Jungkook let’s you do whatever you want to him under the condition you’ll let him do the same. He’ll eat you out for the longest, let you suffocate him between your thighs, and then shove his cock down your throat, makes it so you can barely breathe, gagging around his length. An eye for an eye.
His favorite girl gets to yell at him when he’s acting stupid, cry when he’s with other girls, and sleep soundly knowing you’ll never be cut off. “It was just one round,” he promises, softly patting the back of your head. You had looked for him all night at the club, wore the dress you knew he liked, just to catch him dancing with some other girl you’ve never even seen before. Truthfully, you’re not sure you’re even allowed to cry; the moment you’d caught Jungkook’s gaze, you leaped for the first man you saw, let him screw you in one of the booths as Jungkook watched from the bar.
His favorite girl gets to keep him overnight, swaddle him in your floral-scented sheets and card your fingers through his hair as he sleeps. “I’ll cut the rest of them off,” he whispers, face nuzzled against the base of your throat. (He won’t.) He’s the warmest in the mornings, his body practically a second radiator as he wraps those strong arms around you. Jungkook always makes the same breakfast in the morning— the only one he knows how to make —and it’s those godawful scrambled eggs that make you yearn for more. “See you,” he husks at the door, back in last night’s clothing because he refuses to leave anything at your apartment. He presses a kiss to your forehead, already gearing up for the same cycle all over again. “My favorite girl.”
