everyone knows you as the good girl/nerd. except you’re so fucking tired of that image. (and you’re also very… horny.) so when you decide to be bold and finally go after hoseok — things don’t really go as planned. instead, you end up tangled in a fake relationship with his best friend/campus favorite fuckboy: jeon jungkook.
:: genre/tropes/au :: smau + written , fake dating / fake relationship , slow burn , strangers to friends (a little bit of frenemies?¿) to fuckbuddies to lovers
:: warnings :: no love triangle, university au, frat boys/frat parties, alcohol consumption, judgy!oc - oc is lowk mean, jungkook who’s full of himself, mutual pining, bad decisions, jealousy, eventual written smut, silly ahh fic.
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index:
𑣲 teaser [written]
𑣲 ch: 01 been on my worst [smau]
𑣲 ch: 02 don't need no savior [written]
𑣲 ch: 03 way outta line [smau]
𑣲 ch: 04 kinda like the way i feel [ lwritten]
𑣲 ch: 05 don’t give a fuck [smau]
𑣲 ch: 06 i’ll be there in five [smau]
𑣲 ch: 07 talk too much [written]
𑣲 ch: 08 show each other [smau]
𑣲 ch: 09 other ways to catch you up [smau]
𑣲 ch: 10 on the phone [smau]
𑣲 ch: 11 can you keep it secret? [smau]
𑣲 ch: 12 this time i know [smau]
𑣲 ch: 13 i’ll stay with you [written]
𑣲 ch: 14 just promise you won't [smau]
𑣲 ch: 15 no pics, no postin’ us [smau]
𑣲 ch: 16 just in my nature [written]
𑣲 ch: 17 to be a littlе troublemaker [smau]
𑣲 ch: 18 so wrong but so right [smau]
𑣲 ch: 19 you really likе the way i [smau]
𑣲 ch: 20 when we kiss [written]
𑣲 ch: 21 you reminisce [smau]
𑣲 ch: 22 this ain’t the last time [written]
𑣲 ch: 23 just stay by my side [smau]
𑣲 ch: 24 this ain’t no game [written]
𑣲 ch: 25 won’t play with you [smau]
⤷ch: 25.5 (extra) girl talk [written]
𑣲 ch: 26 you won’t say nothin’ [smau]
𑣲 ch: 27 don’t you be actin’ like that [smau]
𑣲 ch: 28 postin’ us [written]
𑣲 ch: 29 this love just ain’t disposable [smau]
𑣲 ch: 30 just take what’s yours, don’t run from it [written] the end.
I know, I know, I know I took way too long to post this even though I said I’d upload it last night, but life happened (ahem, work) and I didn’t have the time. But now I’m finally super free and really excited to share the Jungkook fanfics that have stayed with me the most.
P.S. I read a lot of these stories a long time ago, but! I still love them just as much as the first time <3 Also, feel free to tell me in the asks or in the comments which member you’d like to see next (or if you’d prefer a specific trope!).
One-shots:
THE PROPOSAL by @hansolmates
-> Summary: Jeon’s the editor-in-chief for Big Hit Publishings, a closet romantic with a penchant for antagonizing his assistant on the reg. When his work visa is in the process of being renewed and he takes a trip to Norway, his eligibility to stay in America is on the line. However Jeon Jungkook doesn’t go without a fight, and in order to save his job he offers you a proposal you can’t refuse.
-> Review: Have you ever watched The Proposal and wished you could find a fanfic inspired by that movie? Well, you don’t have to keep searching anymore! This is THE The Proposal-inspired fanfic (and don’t lie, I know you thought about it too, we all did). As you can see from the summary, the roles are reversed here, and Jungkook is the boss this time (grrr). It’s obviously not a super faithful adaptation of the movie — it’s an adaptation, not a copy — but it’s incredibly fun, keeps all the elements that make that rom-com one of the greatest ever, and has a super satisfying ending <3
ROCK GOD by @venusjeon
-> Summary: You’ve got one year left to either finish your novitiate and become a nun like your parents always wanted, or leave the order and live a secular life like you’ve always wanted. but the fact that a sister’s flirty nephew is staying in the convent for the summer provides a perfect distraction to such headache.
-> Review: Do you know that empty feeling you get when you finish reading something too good and suddenly have no idea what to do with yourself afterward? So you just sit there staring at your phone screen, trying to process what the hell just happened? That’s exactly how this fic made me feel when I read it two years ago (uff, time really flies). I’m not gonna lie, my relationship with this version of Jungkook is… complicated, but! That doesn’t change the fact that I absolutely adored this fic from beginning to end, and I’d read it all over again just to experience that feeling one more time.
ACCIDENTAL ROOMMATES by @jjkeverlast
-> Summary: Moving apartments is stressful and difficult enough as it is. all the planning and packing and multiple moments of rearranging furniture; all you crave is peace. yet it seemed like peace was far within reach as the owner of the apartment had left out one tiny crucial detail from the ad — a ripped tattooed adonis, coupled, with a tiny baby daughter will come as your roommate.
-> Review: I have to confess that dilf aus are way too powerful for me, so finding this fic, with a tattooed Jungkook, father of an adorable baby girl, who also happens to be oc’s neighbor? It genuinely felt like striking gold. I really loved the relationship between these two, and obviously the baby as well. Also, the little touch Nam brings to this fic is chef’s kiss. It was brief, but perfect, and it gave me one of my favorite scenes.
Series:
HOT BOT by @httpjeon
-> Summary: Purchasing a Hot Bot wasn’t exactly something you ever really planned on. when you do, however, it sends your life down a path of convoluted government schemes and dark secrets.
-> Review: Okay, so, this series actually includes several members, but I only read Jungkook’s part (it had my favorite plot, and I am weak). It’s only four parts long, and all four of them are wonderful. Android aus are genuinely fascinating to me. I’ve read a few over the years I’ve spent here, and I still remember this one fondly because not only was it the first one I ever found, but I also feel like it does an amazing job showing the android’s evolution and, at the same time, the consequences that can happen if their system gets reset or damaged (I still get anxious thinking about that chapter). Seriously, I’m begging you guys to give this series a chance, it’s really, really good.
FLESH AND BLOOD by @kinktae
-> Summary: You are living in a society that is just now picking up the scraps that the Great Outbreak left behind after the government killed off the majority of the zombies. Still, some remain, and fear still lies within society’s walls. So imagine your surprise when the very thing you’ve been taught to fear ends up saving your life, showing you that maybe two beating hearts aren’t always required when it comes to love.
-> Review: Guys. Guys, this one? This one is PURE GOLD AHHH. So, I’m actually a huge fan of monster romance (sue me!), which means that when I look for apocalypse aus, I’m not looking for survivors, I’m looking for zombies, because why not? And somehow, in the middle of my nearly impossible search, I found this absolute gem right here. Three parts. A Jungkook who slowly starts learning how to be human again. And smut (because I know you all love that ;)). This is one of the very few stories on here that I recommended to friends outside of Tumblr because that’s how much I loved it. It’s the kind of story that leaves this warm feeling in your chest and makes you want to come back and read it all over again someday.
SHATTER WITH ME by @colormepurplex2
-> Summary: Your best friend, Jiyoon, and her husband, Jungkook, have faced years of hardship trying to start a family. In a last-ditch effort to have their dream life, they seek solace in surrogacy. Wanting to see your best friend smile, you offer to become the bright beacon at the end of the tunnel, giving them what they have always wanted. But what happens when you begin to shine your light on their darkness? Things aren’t always as they seem—happiness can be a façade, shattering under the lightest pressure.
-> Review: The amount of anxiety this story gave me is honestly not normal. I still remember how uncomfortable I felt every single time Jiyoon showed up or whenever there was a tense moment between Jungkook and OC because, duh, he was a married man. Anyway, I’m completely in love with this story and its characters. I love stories that make me anxious, that make me unable to stop reading, that force me to keep going until I finish the first part because UGHHH I LOVE when authors make me absolutely devour their stories by sheer force of how good they are. And this is definitely one of those stories. You’re going to eat this up in one sitting, trust me.
-> Review: Just like with Hot Bot, this series has side stories for other members too, but Jungkook’s is the main one (also the longest lol) and OH. MY. GOD. AHHHH. I love it, I adore it, it’s one of the very few series where smut is kind of the “main theme” (in the loosest way possible) that I genuinely really enjoy. The whole concept surrounding this universe is fascinating to me. Like, the Club LaRouge?? Absolute genius. The author is a genius, seriously. And the side stories are incredible too (you have no idea how excited I got when I saw they uploaded Jimin’s). You need to read this one, no excuses. Pure art.
THE WIFE TRAP by @wintrbears
-> Summary: There are two boys but only one girl, leaving Jungkook hopelessly in love with someone he can never have, and doesn’t want to have, because that would mean taking you away from the person he loves most. Then suddenly there’s only one boy and one girl, but it’s the wrong one.
-> Review: This space was way too small for me to give you my full review, so here’s the link to the reblog where I talk in depth about this incredible ongoing story.
it wasn’t hard when you had it all. you were the prettiest girl at your university by miles, paired with a good brain, a sweet personality and more importantly - you were genuinely nice to be around. every girl wanted to be you and every guy wanted you for himself, a combination that had you ranked queen bee on the social hierarchy, something you had never even tried to do.
it came naturally to you, and that was the part that had people who didn’t like you so envious. you didn’t try to be likeable, you simply were, making sure to befriend anyone and everyone despite their social status, or just going out of your way to be kind to people just because you could. the fact you were so beautiful only added a cherry on top. you were a full package.
even your circumstances had a way of working out. you came from a household where abuse was a norm, and so, you had left at the ripe age of 12, only to be taken in by your best friend, yejin, and her family who you now considered your own. you were treated as though you were blood, with lavish birthday parties, and a full ride to the university of your choice, which just so happened to be the same one your best friend attended - to which you both shared a lovely apartment on campus.
you were perfection defined to all, and yet, they failed to see your one fatal flaw.
obsession.
it was a disease, you knew this much, which is why you kept it under lock and key, a darkened secret only you knew about. it trickled into the darkest parts of your brain where it had begun to fester into tangent thoughts, things that coaxed your throat and soul into a never ending cycle of want and need.
no one understood, no one would, you knew that. how could you explain that you had never been able to look at someone normally without feeling the entirety of your life collapse before your very eyes?
you made it a a rule to never fall in love, not with anyone, not ever. a rule made to be broken it seems for only a few months into your university life, your eyes happened upon the one person that had brought every dark fantasy of your own to light.
jeon jungkook.
oh, that name. it unsettled you. it made you become a twisted little thing that wanted nothing more than to lock him away for your own selfish greed.
you felt pained at the prospect of him looking at another woman, even more pained when you realised he was the one person you couldn’t introduce yourself to - leaving you in a limbo where you couldn’t stomach him belonging to another, and doing exactly nothing about it. what was the point of popularity when it couldn’t even be used for your benefit, in your time of need?
being smart was one thing, jungkook was a genius. he was years ahead of anyone you’d ever met, with a brain so sharp it seemed to annoy him whenever he was sat in your shared physics classes. you sat four rows behind him, three seats to his left, giving you the prime spot to stare at him all lesson, doodling his name in your book whilst thinking of all the ways you wanted him.
it wasn’t sexual, not entirely - of course you often thought of him. you had been with other men on the mere basis that they shared a feature with him, whether it be his large eyes, his smile, his dimpled cheeks - one look and you were able to imagine it was him instead, though it never quite satisfied that deep itch inside of you. it was more than that, though. he represented something fucked up inside of you, something that had your hands shaking whenever you conjured it up in your mind.
he was home, and he didn’t even realise it.
he wasn’t particularly nice, with an ego too large to really make good friends. he had a few, all who were equally as smart, and they would sit at a table quiet, amongst themselves, where you would fight with every inch of your life to not look over despite feeling some of their eyes on you. you were pretty, popular and smart - every man’s dream, and yet it meant nothing if it wasn’t him.
you couldn’t even remember how this began, only that it had no end. he had no social media presence, went to his nerdy, stupid clubs, played his games with his friends and studied endlessly - you needed him like you needed air to breathe.
it was comical really.
hilarious, that you, despite your wit, were not able to see what was so clearly so familiar to you reciprocated.
how was it that jeon jungkook, object of your foul infatuation, had the same incessant need when it came to you?
it was sick, really, the way he felt about you. sweet little thing, shorter than him, smaller in every way, he knew that he could have cornered you months ago and you would have bat your big eyes up at him in that way you often did to others, rendering them weak, wrapping them around your pinky.
it wasn’t enough.
he wanted you in a way that wasn’t normal, it couldn’t be encouraged - he wanted you to belong to him, to own you, to have you so deeply intertwined into him that you wouldn’t know how to breathe without him. that’s how he felt about you, and he was sure you had never even noticed him.
every day, he’d wake, sitting in the same seat of his physics class where the reflection of his laptop monitor would show you sat a few rows behind him, to which he would spend the entirety of his time watching you. though he couldn’t see your face clearly, the muffled reflection of you was enough to have his heart beating out of his chest, as his hand would often crush whatever pen or pencil would have the misfortune of being in use that day.
the difference between you both was simple. jungkook had gotten here first.
he remembered the day his eyes had found you, simply studying in a cafe, his heart looping over and over and over and over. he had sat at the opposite end, watching you, for a straight hour before you had left, to which he needed another on his own simply to recoup.
he wanted to be good for you, throwing himself into his academics just so he could have something to show for. he was a genius, his brain working at a rate much faster than that of the average person, and it didn’t go unnoticed - his professors practically begged for his opinion, job offers going crazy at the prospect of managing to bag such an ideal student after graduation.
he kept them all in limbo, no matter the insane salaries. it would all depend on you; his sweet, angel girl. where would you want to settle? far away, near the coast, where sun and ocean were to be siblings? or would you prefer to stay in the city, where familiarity brought you comfort?
even the thought of you got him hard, his hand constantly having to adjust himself whenever he was even near you.
that’s when the stalking properly began.
first step in making his life easier were the cameras. he installed them mainly in your room, managing to put a few at different angles when you and your roommate were away on a holiday. he remembered that day fondly, having stolen multiple articles of clothing for himself, even going so far as to edge himself in the comfort of your own bed, breathing in the soft scent of your shampoo from your pillow.
second, the tracker on your car. what kind of guy would he be if he let his girl go anywhere, and everywhere without notice? he liked to make sure you were safe, after all, and how else was he supposed to enjoy his weekends if he didn’t know where you were? wherever you would go, he would come too, adorned in a hat and a mask, sat at a distance, but close enough to admire your sweet face.
thirdly? interference.
watching had become tedious, especially when the payout was beginning to become the same. he longed for more, craved to know you in a way that was completely out of bounds. he wanted something bigger, wanted to mould the situation further until it could unravel all on its own.
it started small. a window left unopened, despite you knowing with certainty that you had closed and locked it the night before. then, your lip gloss, a favourite where you carried everywhere diligently, suddenly disappearing. you weren’t forgetful, nor known to misplace things, so its sudden loss became confusing to you.
clothes weren’t being taken, but they were being moved. you liked your wardrobe coded, with summer and spring on one side, and your autumn and winter on the other - you knew once you started realising a few pieces had been messed around with, that someone was actively here. touching, misplacing.
you noticed - how could you not? you were observant, far too in tune with your things to not notice such small details that felt jarringly big to you.
he watched it all with bated breath, and his fist around his cock.
the way your features would pull in confusion, head tilting and pout ready, unaware you were on camera and being live streamed to him and him alone. god. he wished you could see what you did to him, how you had him breathing heavy at the mere sight of you - he yearned to know if it would scare you away.
the thing that began to dawn on him, however, was the realisation that it didn’t add up.
your lack of action, or perhaps your lack of reaction, was the first stickler. your acceptance, however, was a confirmation of something he had only ever dreamt of in his wildest, most fucked up dreams.
you understood.
you weren’t scared, or confused, or terrified at the prospect of someone breaking in. no, you were at ease, as though what you knew of yourself could no longer scare you, even if it stemmed from someone entirely different and this..oh, this. that was what he craved.
he couldn’t stop now that he was aware, and lord knew that his plan was beginning. no longer would he sit in the shadows, watching and bidding his time.
you were his, whether you liked it or not.
the first time he stayed, he didn’t touch anything, a clear difference to all the other times he had become comfortable.
your apartment was quiet, the soft hum of the fridge bleeding into the silence, yejin snoring somewhere on the opposite side of your shared place, all whilst jeon jungkook stood in your bedroom, watching you sleep.
you were so sweet to watch, all curled into the covers, cheek smushed against the pillow whilst you held something tightly to your chest. a little teddy he had left on your bed for you, a sign of his courtship that he could see for his own two eyes you had accepted readily. the sight had him smiling.
his tongue pressed into his cheek as he stepped closer. the sight of your panties, forgotten on the side, had him grunting lightly, his hands reaching out for them almost immediately before pulling them up to his nose, and breathing them in hungrily. his favourite scent.
he had seen you through screens regularly, stolen so many pairs of your underwear just to smell them - this all felt like routine.
you, however, asleep. no, this was out of the norm.
he had never seen you so adorable, so sweet. his girl, he whispered under his breath before backing away quietly.
it wasn’t time. you couldn’t see him just yet, not until you were ready, because he knew once he started, he couldn’t stop.
and so, he gently placed your panties into his pocket, cock hard, shoulders rolling before slowly departing, his heart thumping out of his chest.
he wasn’t ready for you to see him. not like this.
not until you understood.
—
the party was loud. excruciating for some, but the alcohol in your system left a dull hum in your ears as you sipped from the red solo cup, your hair pulled up into a sweet ponytail. bodies were packed so closely, with laughter echoing against each wall, a bright and illuminated swimming pool at the heart of the party where everyone stood in either bikinis or shorts.
this was the kind of place that chewed people up and spat them out whole - a place where you dominated. you fit right in, perched against a corner of the pool with your feet in the water, too small bikini barely covering your tits whilst a scrappy pair of shorts sat on your body. the essence of a university pool party was to be as promiscuous as possible for the night, whilst completely disregarding any man that approached you.
you only had eyes for one anyway.
you were used to the eyes, the attention, the way heads turned when you and yejin walked into a place, but even this felt a little too much. frat parties weren’t to your taste personally, but they were where the vibes were - everyone knew if you wanted to party, you had to attend a kappa pi event, no matter how annoying the guys were. it was simply an opportunity to see and be seen, to get a buzz in your system, let loose and what not.
secretly, you had tried your hardest not to come, but yejin wasn’t having any of your excuses. you had done something, something that felt so inherently fucked up, and yet your stomach was buzzing in a sort of excitement that you knew if anyone ever found out, you’d be demonised for life.
you had hacked into jungkook’s phone.
fuck. it felt thrilling to even think about how you had done it, and a small sense of pride filtered through you veins at the recognition you had done it all by yourself.
many often dismissed you as a pretty girl, but you were incredibly smart. it didn’t take long to figure out the coding needed to hack into his phone, especially when you had been eyeing it for so long - you had spent your last physics class doing exactly that, managing to infiltrate it directly, and now being able to access it in real time on your own.
you could see what he was doing, what sites he’d access, what he’d watch, what he’d do, who he’d text. your body shook in excitement at the thought, brain completely somewhere else as yejin giggled at something a guy whispered into her ear, sipping quietly.
she had begged you to come, unaware of the fight inside your chest, and considering the way you were gripping your phone, she figured you had met a new guy. she was never one to push you, knowing you were oddly private about these things, always respectful of your boundaries - but she couldn’t come to a party like this alone. she won in the end, knowing you couldn’t say no to her.
“we’re gonna get some more drinks. want anything?” she asked you sweetly, to which you shook your head with a small smile, wiggling your eyebrows about the man who had turned his back momentarily.
she let out a small giggle and nod, before standing up, walking away and into the house, leaving you to soak in the water and party for yourself.
water splashed from different sides of the pool as condensation clung to your bare stomach and legs, the slight chill in the air pebbling your nipples, all whilst you tipped your head back in soft thought.
it was exhausting the way you couldn’t think, or exist without him tumbling into your thoughts, demanding your attention, grabbing it without permission. you could feel a constant ache in your stomach at his absence, wanting nothing more than to simply fixate on him from afar. you couldn’t even imagine what he’d be like up close.
you were too caught up in your own delusions to realise the very object of your affections stood only a few metres away from you, chest heaving.
you see, jungkook knew.
he had known before stepping foot into the frat house, phone heated in his palm as his fingers practically crushed it, screen glowing with something that shouldn’t have made sense. it couldn’t be.
he noticed the abnormality almost immediately.
a delay, at first, hardly noticeable to a large majority of people and yet he was different in every way. a man like him, savvy in ways that were not deemed normal, determined something was wrong almost immediately - code didn’t falter unless someone had interfered.
unless something, someone, was inside.
it took him less than 10 minutes, fuelled by anger at first. who the fuck dared to hack him? what could they even want? money? extortion? did someone know about his psychotic obsession with you? his chest flipped at the thought of being found out before he could monopolise on it, before he could have ever even watched your reaction up close. it pained him.
and thus, queue ten minutes of silence in the car as jin, his friend, drove the 20 minute journey to the off campus party, all whilst he sat in the backseat, decoding, deciphering.
he traced lines, rerouted access, digging deeper and deeper and deeper and deeper and deeper until he finally got exactly what he wanted.
once he had found it, he dropped his phone into his lap with a silent, shaky exhale.
you.
it took him another 40 seconds just to be able to pick his phone up without his hands betraying him weakly, his eyes widened, lip caught between his teeth.
he couldn’t stop staring - far longer than what was necessary, or logical. it was as though neither his eyes or brain could comprehend what was in front of him.
your name. you. your access. you. your fingers swiping through apps and looking at things. you. he watched as you entered his photo album, lingering on gym photos, and random pictures he would take of things he needed to remember. you.
he broke the silence in backseat, his friends paying no mind as they chatted amongst themselves, only for him to laugh quietly under his breath in disbelief.
you.
you?
his sweet, angelic girl. you? with your big eyes and pouted lips, so precious it made his heart ache with a need to ruin you. dressed in your baby pink’s and blues, constantly attaching cute little keychains to your bag, an aura emitting from you that he long wanted to get his hands on.
oh, he had misplaced you entirely.
to do something so wrong, perverse..so filthy. hacking into his phone? for what?
his brain had rewired in the span of the remaining ten minutes of the journey to the party, a soft understanding filtering through his body.
he didn’t know you well at all. in fact, he was appalled. here he was, a man priming himself to be your future, and yet he barely knew you it seemed. he had fallen right into your trap of innocence, as though you were free from any of the filth that plagued his mind - only to find out you too were a victim of it.
he could have shut you out. your work was sloppy, too out in the open, it had taken him mere minutes to discover you, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to ever do such a thing.
oh, sweet, sweet y/n. his heart bloomed at the thought of you, a small, genuine smile on his face as he watched you rummage through his phone, even going so far as to sneak through his notes app. his cock pulsed painfully whenever he’d see you linger on one of his photos, a confirmation that you too were so sick in the head.
once the car stopped, he knew the game had finally begun.
jungkook didn’t belong here. it was obvious to anyone that knew him, and to himself - this wasn’t his usual scene, despising loud gatherings as though they were an insult to him personally. his closest friends, all who were as nerdy as him, stared wide eyed as they took in their surroundings, trying to place themselves somewhere that typically excluded them.
he wouldn’t have come, not usually, but he had a very clear objective.
you.
he salivated at the prospect of having you out in the open like this, tits practically on show, tiny bikini whilst you sat so sweetly as you always did, completely oblivious to the way every man had their eyes on you. he was jealous by nature, possessive to a fault - what kind of guy would he be had he not come?
he was in a pair of shorts, forgoing his t-shirt somewhere at the entrance, and he knew he had caught the attention of a few girls himself. he was bigger than most of the guys here, with muscles rippling every crevice, a chest so broad and shoulders so wide they had you closing your eyes tight in thought most days.
one look at you, and his very soul fell aflame.
his jaw tightened, hand crushing his phone slightly as his chest flexed. not through a screen, not through hidden glamours under a cap and mask, no. he was out in the open, watching, staring, salivating.
you were on your phone now, a hidden little smile forming on your lips, almost giggling. one look at his phone and he could see you were still looking through as though it was the most interesting thing on earth, despite being sat alone with multiple people yearning for your company. he was of course one of them.
he couldn’t stand this feeling in his stomach any longer, the excitement, the thrill. the game had shifted entirely now he knew you were a willing participant. you were one and the same, equally as fucked, equally as messed up. he couldn’t think of anything more romantic even if he tried.
his tongue pressed against his cheek just as a girl walked past him, fingers trailing over his chiseled abs in a way to get his attention. he looked down at her, almost feeling an excruciating sense of disgust at the sight of her - another girl touching him, someone that wasn’t you?
his face remained stoic, mean even, despite the sultry smile on her lips as she passed him, no doubt figuring it would be easy to bed the nerd, something that nearly had him scoffing under his breath. once she had properly walked away, his eyebrows furrowed, frowning slightly, before returning his attention back to you.
his sweet girl.
only, this time, you were staring back at him, eyes wide, lip jutted out in a pout, a look of clear upset painted on your features. you weren’t even trying to hide it, your emotions stronger than anything you could conjure up.
he was yours. all fucking yours, and here he was, chiseled and hardened in a way you had never seen in real life, tattoos cherishing much of his milky skin, your chest almost heaving at the sight.
that green, ugly emotion in your chest was fluttering all over you at the sight of him being touched by someone else, so much so that you broke eye contact with him after a few moments, your brain not comprehending the way he too was staring at you, so much deeper than simply looking. you looked to your left, hands turning your phone off as you tried to regulate your breathing.
you felt like you had been punched in the stomach.
you couldn’t even fester on your feelings, as yejin tumbled over to you, grin wide, drinks in hand, her new boy toy following like a lost little puppy, though she paid him no mind, no longer interested.
“got you a drink anyway.” she hummed, sitting beside you on the edge, putting her feet into the pool.
she peered up, noticing your far away expression, the way you were nibbling on your bottom lip, hands slightly shaking.
“you okay?” she asked, voice immediate, eyes furrowed as she examined you.
“yeah.. sorry. just got a bit of a headache, the musics too loud.” you lied smoothly, praying she would believe you.
to further convince her, you took the drink she handed you, wincing only lightly as you drank it all in one go, completely ignoring the burning stare from just behind her.
you couldn’t think. it wasn’t like your brain worked like the average girl’s anyway, you were clouded with this parasitic obsession that clouded every normal thought - how could he? how dare he? were you not pretty enough? smart enough? did you not warrant enough to capture his attention entirely?
your chest only pained further, as yejin began conversing with you, and you kept up, of course, to appease appearances. the thud in your throat was heavy in itself, chaining you to where you were sat, your shoulders hunching up with every wave of deep jealousy.
“i’m gonna go to the bathroom.” you murmured to her. “okay, want me to come with?” she asked, eyebrows furrowed in slight worry, knowing you were being a little different.
“don’t worry, i’ll be down soon.” you shook her head, giving her a small sort of smile, before getting up.
the hallways of the house felt much narrower when you were walking through absentmindedly, thoughts completely adrift, stomach aching in horrible self doubt. too long, too packed, bodies brushing past you as you made your way to the bathroom with the sole intention of locking yourself inside and simply overthinking.
your fingernails dug into the palms of your hands, leaving bloodied crescents as your breath continued to get more and more uneven the more you thought.
how could he?
over, and over, and over, and over.
it didn’t make sense, it shouldn’t have mattered, not to this extent, even you recognised how abnormal this was, but he was yours. jungkook was all fucking yours - you had done the work. you were the one hacking into his phone, invading his privacy and his right to anonymity. it was you, all you, and to have someone else see him when he belonged to you was fucking enraging.
you felt humiliated when you took into account he didn’t even know you.
you barely recognised the heavy footsteps behind you. not until a harsh hand grabbed at your wrist, all but forcing you against the cold wall. a sharp gasp tore from your throat as your body made contact, your shoulders hunching upwards immediately at the hiss of coldness against your skin, a wild difference to the bubbling heat simmering inside of you.
him.
your eyes widened for a fraction.
jungkook didn’t give you time to hesitate, no time to run or turn, your hands being grabbed and forcibly pushed above your head, pinned against the wall. your eyes were large, lips parted with small puffs, whilst he stared at you openly.
you had never been this close to him.
to look at his features directly, with every opportunity to trace the slope of his nose, the soft skin of his lips, the furrow of his brows and the harshness lined in his eyes. he was everywhere all at once, his bare chest emitting a sort of heat that had you almost curling towards him, your own chest lost of any air and comfort.
you couldn’t think, your shaky breath stopping for a moment only to release a quiet whimper that seemed to hit him directly as he too let out a shaky breath.
“where are you going?”
his voice. oh, his voice. so quiet, meant only for you, and yet firm.
like he already knew the answer, only asking to hear his own suspicions confirmed.
your lips parted, your chest still heaving as you tried to pull yourself together. you couldn’t show him how undone you were by his presence, never mind his burning touch - something you know you’d replay over and over until your mind split in half.
“bathroom..” you managed, barely above a whisper.
the weakness in your tone compared to the firmness of his own was visibly jarring, enough to have his eyes trace each and every one of your features. your nose, to your lips, cheeks to your eyes, all down the panels of your neck.
he acted as though he had all the time in the world, as if this wasn’t highly inappropriate given you were both technically strangers. oh, how ignorant you were to your own surroundings.
“you look upset.” he murmured, tone void of any concern. instead, laced with recognition - as though he knew to read you better than he could himself.
you swallowed harshly, jungkook watching your throat with his own bated breath.
“i’m not,” you said quickly. too quickly. “it’s just loud, i..it’s just..”
his thumb pressed into your pulse, feeling it jump.
lie.
“you’re a bad liar.” it felt like a warning.
a beat.
you exhaled through your nose as he eased the pressure on your wrist, gently rubbing his thumb as a means to ground you once more. you wanted to relax, wanted nothing more than to ease in his touch but all you could think about was how close he stood to you, his cologne, both of you scantily dressed, your bikini top doing nothing to cover you modestly.
“look at me.” he whispered, your eyes having fallen to his bare chest as you began to space out into your own thoughts.
you peered up through your weighted lashes, breath still uncontrollable. the intensity, it had your stomach jumping painfully, the eye contact both too much to handle and yet you never wanted him to look away, feeling scared it would be ripped from you before you could think.
“what’s wrong?” he asked again, softer, body inching closer, thumb pressing into your pulse once more.
you simply shook your head in response. you couldn’t bring yourself to say it. how could you? he let her fucking touch him. her hands, rubbing over the same skin that was now beginning to press intimately against you, as though he wanted it branded in his bloodstream.
the silence between you stretched, as he pushed, and pushed, and pushed. your chests were openly touching, his head dipped low to capture your eyes properly, legs intertwined now. had anyone walked past you both, they would have naturally assumed you were making out given the intimacy of the stances, the sheer nature of the way you were pressured into the wall.
you were suffocating from it. you couldn’t think. you couldn’t comprehend. not when the only thing you were seeing were her hands, a flicker of genuine anger and a roar of jealousy holding you hostage.
the words slipped out before you could really do anything about them.
“you let her touch you.” you whispered, voice fragile.
the three seconds of silence between you felt like a lifetime multiplied. your eyes widened as you comprehended what had just left your lips, a streak of fear gripping your heart. you watched his eyebrows furrow, head tilting just slightly as he absorbed your words.
the quiet dropped like a weight, as you watched in real time his features completely transform from that of someone intense to a man who felt too dangerous to be good. he darkened, eyes growing lidded, lips growing slack.
“what?” he calmly asked, as though your response held more power than anything else physically possible.
too calm. far too steady.
you shook your head immediately as it dawned on you what had truly left your lips. you had let out your deepest, darkest self in front of him simply because you were overwhelmed by his presence. stood, forced to the wall, body against body, breath mingling with breath.
“i..didn’t..no..”
“no.”
his hands left your wrists, slowly easing them down whilst maintaining eye contact. once your hands were down, immediately, his own brushed up to your face, both palms cupping your jaw possessively, pulling your chin upwards.
“say it again.” his voice was breathless.
his grip was neither gentle nor cruel, but you could feel it in every facet of your stomach. you couldn’t move, made to feel every inch of his darkened stare, whilst your own fingers gently gripped his wrists, shaking.
he knew exactly how much pressure to use against you. knew exactly what had you spiralling, and what grounded you, opting for a gentle mix of both.
you couldn’t help your emotions, feeling your bottom lip begin to tremble, eyes growing glassier by the second.
“you let her touch you..” your chest rose sharply, voice breaking at the end of your sentence. “she was..and you just..she was all over you.”
your lips pressed against one another harshly as a means to silence yourself, heart spiralling whilst your brain begged you to see reason, to quieten in front of him in fears of such harsh rejection.
you tried. you truly did. you didn’t want him to know, didn’t want him to see.
but you were already gone. your voice had cracked, your eyes were already glassy, lip already trembling. it was as though he had cheated, indulging in another woman with his heart and soul when it had been nothing more than a fleeting touch, a norm for a place like this. you couldn’t rationalise that though, not when you were so deeply obsessive, so intensely fucked up in every way.
jungkook let out a loud, shaking breath.
you were heartbroken. over him?
he couldn’t believe it. he couldn’t fucking believe what he was hearing, what his eyes were seeing, what his heart was bouncing to. you? his sweet, gorgeous girl, so hurt because of a fleeting touch from a woman who he hadn’t even spared a proper glance at? he hadn’t reacted to her touch because he had barely computed it, as she meant nothing. was nothing.
to know a 3 second interaction had you about to cry, so bothered you had to physically remove yourself from the environment, shaking with each passing step. fuck, fuck fuck.
oh, you were the world and more. look at you, he thought, his head coming down to press against yours so gently, such a juxtaposition to the way he was holding you so firmly, so harshly as though you were ready to run away. a part of you was prepared.
his thumb pressed against your shaking bottom lip, as you tried so hard to hold your tears back, looking like a pathetic little baby. his baby.
“you didn’t like that.” he confirmed. not a question, but a clear cut statement, whispering it down at you to show you he understood.
you simply nodded, letting out a shaking breath, sniffling lightly. you felt fucking humiliated, your mental illness out for him to see in the ugliest of ways, all the whilst he cradled you like this wasn’t absolutely absurd - no one normal would have reacted the way he was reacting.
fingers began spreading over you, one hand leaving your jaw and travelling down to your neck, lightly wrapping. not squeezing, but merely holding.
you felt anchored.
“hey,” he nudged his nose against yours, breaths beginning to mingle from how close your faces were. “look at me.”
you listened, watery eyes meeting his.
the way he was looking at you confused you entirely. you were used to men looking at you because they wanted you, or because they wanted something from you - this was completely different. jungkook looked down at you as though you represented something deep inside of him, a look that you knew you held for him and him alone.
a look of full, unadulterated obsession.
“i didn’t touch her.” he promised, lips grazing your skin. “she touched you..” you corrected shakily, eyes begging to close at the feel of his touch.
“and i let it pass.” he promised, shaking his head lightly at you. “didn’t let it go on, didn’t give her nothing.”
your lips parted but you couldn’t bring yourself to say anything. he watched you think, watched it click in your brain, as though you were stranded in the desert, thirsty, whilst he brought you a pitcher of water.
“you think i’d let someone think they could have me?” he almost spat, as though the words were offensive. “when you’re there? sat there?”
your breath caught so sharply it hurt.
“what?” you whispered.
his gaze didn’t waver. “you heard me.”
he leaned in closer, his nose brushing openly against yours, nuzzling as the corner of his lips began to graze your own, your eyes falling shut immediately.
“i saw you. smiling at your phone.” he murmured, feeling your pulse quicken underneath his hand. “you think i wouldn’t notice? all my pictures, my notes, my text messages, my fucking call logs.”
your eyes shot open in shock. your lip began fully trembling now, a hardened noise leaving your chest as you held back a soft sob, scared at having been discovered. you knew this would ruin you, make sure you’d never even be able to have a friend again, never mind exist.
more importantly, you would lose him, jungkook, the object of your infatuations.
“hey. c’mon baby. it’s just me.” he shook his head at you, cooing. “it’s okay.”
a heavy tear escaped, dribbling down your face pathetically. “i-i..”
your body was shaking.
“it’s okay.” he reiterated, eyes deceptively kind, warmth plastered over you as he kissed over where your tear trailed. “i liked it.”
you let out a noise of confusion, a whimper paired with a shake of your hands.
“i like knowing you’re in there, looking at my stuff. i like it so fucking much.” he breathed, his own eyes closing momentarily. “just how i like knowing where you are.”
a sudden stillness enveloped you.
no longer were your limbs rattling, or your eyes widening - the tears remained, fresh and hot as your orbs began to overflow as though the words leaving his lips could have only been conjured in the faintest of dreams. jungkook was speaking, and yet your brain was barely comprehending, not quite understanding. he liked knowing where you were.
he liked knowing where you were.
he liked it.
the knowing.. what did that mean? what did that represent? what was he referencing, symbolising, alluding? your brain was failing you, and as bright as you were, you felt smaller than you had ever in the entirety of your life simply trying to keep up.
tears were streaming easily now, and he couldn’t help the soft coo he released, soothing you with gentle eyes as though what he was saying was normal, casual even. none of this was healthy, not from your side, especially not his and yet you felt your crumpled hands faintly touch upon his chest.
you couldn’t help the bloom of romance in your stomach.
how sweet, how romantic.
“what does that mean?” you asked him through your tears, fingers digging into his chest as a means to feel closer to him, almost shamelessly.
your question didn’t land lightly with him.
it didn’t drift between you, didn’t penetrate the clawing tension between you by softening the air or easing the lump in your throat. no, instead, it sank. heavy, thick, debilitating, you could almost feel your legs ready to give out despite the fact you were bordering on sobs, the fear of being found out slowly being replaced by something so much bigger, so much more compelling.
he didn’t answer you immediately.
instead, his hand on your throat tightened. slowly, not enough to cause you any semblance of pain, but enough to show you he was there, to remind you, to rid your brain of any thought that was now clouding your judgement. this was real. he wasn’t a figment of your sick fucking imagination, something to soothe the illness deep inside of you, the parasite that claimed you head from toe. he was real. this was real. you were real.
his thumb pressed into your jaw, harsher now, tilting your head up just a fraction, causing you to look into his gaze. his heart gave him away, however, as you felt it thud meanly against his soft skin. you felt so exposed, so on show, seen in a way where you could feel him inside of you.
his eyes dragged all over, committing each inch to painstakingly detailed memory, as though you were a prized jewel and he a mere sailor.
“you don’t know?” he murmured, voice low, laced with a somewhat sense of amusement - not mocking, but in a way that was clear he found you endearing. as though your tears and confusion were the cutest thing he’d ever seen.
your brows pulled together as a hiccup left you, tears still streaming with no intention to stop. you shook your head then, small, uncertain, and it finally had something inside him snapping.
“fuck.” he exhaled harshly, more to himself than you, his forehead dipping to gently brush against yours once more lingering as though it was hardly enough. like he needed to ground himself before the cracks in his very soul were laid to bare in front of you.
“it means,” he started slowly, “that i’ve been watching you a lot longer than you’ve ever even looked at me.”
your breath hitched.
a sharp involuntary noise, something you couldn’t control no matter how hard you tried, your fingers now digging into his chest as a means to regain some sense of control.
he noticed. of course he noticed. his lips twitched just fucking looking at you.
“don’t do that.” he whispered with an almost accusatory tone, head shaking. “don’t act surprised now.”
you shook your head, so much faster this time, as though you were fighting to prove your innocence despite it being the furthest thing from the truth. the shame inside you hurt, but he was here too soothe it.
“i don’t..i don’t understand..”
“you do.” he cut in firmly. he leaned in close to you, your breaths mingling as your lips sat mere centimetres away from one another. “you’re too smart not to.”
your lips trembled. he was right.
you did understand - perhaps not entirely, not in a way that had you deciphering his words, but the strain in his voice. the harshness that came with it. he was telling you something your brain often echoed over and over to you. he was showing you the same disease up close, and your mind recognised it, saw it for what it was, what it could be.
home.
you were a cocktail mix of thrill and fear, your fingernails digging so harshly into his skin that he was sure you’d break it, with small tiny cuts beginning to form, not that he minded. he felt branded by you, a fucking dream come true.
“the windows,” he continued quietly. “things that went missing, your clothes..fuck, your panties are my favourite. you started leaving them in places i’d find. started making it so much easier for me.”
you breathed harshly.
“you noticed all of it. i know you did, because i watched you, studied you. yet you haven’t said a word to anyone.” his words were a jumbled mess, as though he was making sense of it in front of you. “why?” he asked, so softly, so gently.
it was a question with only one answer - you were smart enough to know that. it seemed that he already knew, and yet, with the way he was holding you, the way you clung to him, he yearned to hear it from you. not for it to be coaxed, but for you to sincerely say it.
your chest rose and fell once more, eyes leaking beyond control as a horrible sob left your lips, finally broken, entirely ashamed. the words slipped out before you could stop them, before you could ever dampen them down from a mixture of embarrassment and pure humiliation at being caught, alongside a dangerous streak of want that truly couldn’t have lessened even if you tried.
“i..” your voice barely audible. “i didn’t want it to stop.”
you closed your eyes as your hands finally let him go, cuts in the shape of crescent moons tight into his chest as your hands flung to your face, cradling your features away from him through quiet cries.
you prepared for him to push you away, to sneer at you in disgust, into disappointment, into anything that resembled any form of sanity that any other person would have gladly shown you. the thought of losing something you had never truly even gotten to have despite needing it more than anything was enough to have your knees buckling, your body shaking.
what you didn’t expect, however, were the large hands on your body to cradle you so sweetly, pulling you into an even larger chest, so that your face was engulfed entirely by jungkook. both arms held you delicately, causing your brain to malfunction as your now reddened orbs looked up only to meet his, your breath stolen by the look of pure yearning.
oh, sweet y/n, he thought to himself.
it was as if you had written him a sonnet.
a soft smile was directed down at you as his beefy biceps caged you into his body, even softer kisses placed against your forehead. your hands were still hiding your face slightly, and though you couldn’t stop your crying, the look of confusion that he was met with was so endearing, he couldn’t help but let out a shaky sigh.
“there she is..” he whispered down at you, eyes filled with an emotion you couldn’t place.
“hm?”
“i was wondering how long it would take until you finally showed yourself to me.”
“what?” you hiccuped.
your fingers slacked around your face as your body racked with a mixture of both half sobs, and harsh hiccups, your chest fighting for breath, all whilst your brain struggled to keep up, his touch intoxicating, burning into your skin. it was hard to comprehend this was even happening.
“you liked it.” he repeated, smile so earnest you would have thought you’d given him the greatest gift on earth.
his arms loosened around you, though his touch only got more and more daring. one hand slid up to your cheek, pulling you closer to him whilst the other took a hold of the back of your legs, sweeping you up in a notion that was far too easy, as though you weighed nothing.
the shock of suddenly being suspended into the air had you leaning into him immediately, arms flying around his neck as he simply led you into the bathroom, closing the door with his foot. instead of putting you down, you watched as he sat on the edge of the tub, sitting you down onto his lap, manoeuvring you like a doll without thoughts.
soon enough, your legs were on either side of him, your arms still wrapped around his neck, both of your barely clothed bodies pressed in a way that had you hiccuping again, a loss of air in your lungs now causing you to become light headed.
your chest was rising and falling, but he too matched you. it was like neither of you could believe this was real, that you were touching, existing, talking, holding one another like it hadn’t just been revealed you both liked to stalk each other.
the thump inbetween your legs got louder and louder until it was all you could feel, and from the way you were sat, you wanted more, wanted to sit a little forward until you were seated right against him, but the fear in your chest kept you rooted.
“don’t cry, baby.” he whispered, the quiet sound of music from downstairs echoing against the walls. “don’t be scared.”
you sniffled, eyes meeting his, fingers gently daring to brush against the back of his head where hair sat ready to be touched. his thumb pressed into your pulse on your wrist as his head pressed against yours, his body cradling yours as though you were the sweetest thing he had ever seen, his girl. his, sick, stalker girl.
“you just wanted to see me, right pretty girl?” he cooed down at you, causing you to nod through a hiccup. “nothing wrong with that. it’s just like i wanted to see you.”
your lips parted slowly, nodding, breathing still difficult. his words felt so comforting, the sickness inside your brain soothing now that it had been assured. you felt at home, so at peace.
your heart strummed harshly from the skin to skin contact as you peered at him almost nervously, your chest jolting from hiccups, your makeup utterly ruined. his words were also rattling in your brain, echoing from side to side as you tried to comprehend them, tried to understand them in a way that felt rational. instead, romance bloomed in your chest, the woman from earlier a distant memory as the same thing rolled in your mind over and over.
he just wanted to see you.
you.
all you.
for a moment, the world narrowed down to that simple truth.
you.
jungkook watched it in real time. your eyes began to droop, soften as you sniffled, lips still quivering with each passing moment. your hands on his neck lessened in grip, a sort of acceptance, a gentle comfort in the way you realised everything you had ever wanted was possibly here, right now.
this wasn’t fleeting, not like the attention you received daily from others. it stayed deep inside of you, wrapping around your ribs, curling around your heart until it suffocated you, precisely like what you had wanted.
“yeah,” he whispered, breathing in your scent, your perfume mixed with alcohol, eyes tracing your own. “that’s it, sweet girl.”
“i wanted it to be you.” you admitted in a small voice, no longer afraid, but still hesitant. “i knew things were being moved and taken in my room but..i didn’t want it to be anyone else.”
silence spanned between you, a moment of quiet in what had felt like an admission of the century.
your words hit him hard visibly, as he let out a shaking exhale, eyes shutting so tightly you could see the strain in his jaw. his hands shook as he held you, holding you much tighter suddenly - you couldn’t think outside of him. you watched him with bated breath, sniffling as your hands slipped from his neck, and instead slid down his chest.
“not anyone else.” he repeated finally, processing your words.
his own hands moved, no longer cradling you as they now moved to the back of your head, fingers threading into your hair, neither gentle nor rough. possessive.
“say that again.”
you blinked up at him softly. “hm?”
“say it again.” his voice sounded heavier, harsher, as though finally, your admission had undone him entirely.
your lips trembled. “..i..didn’t want it to be anyone else but you..”
and in that moment, you had ruined jungkook completely.
a broken sound left his chest, a cross between a laugh and a shaking breath, his head dropping forward as his grip on you tightened so much harsher, pulling you flush against him. you were pulled forward, pressing both of you against one another in a way that you could feel him against the flimsy denim of your shorts, the two of you unable to look away.
“fuck..” he whispered again, but for the first time, he sounded wrecked. overwhelmed. his nose brushed against yours, frantic now, like he didn’t know where to put himself. “do you know what that does to me? what you’ve just said to me?”
you broke the eye contact, peering down at how you sat so directly against him, brain pulling you in a million directions as you both lightly grinded your cores against one another. the action felt so natural that neither of you were even doing it consciously, your bodies simply doing it for you. the pleasure was low, but you could feel it heavy in your stomach.
it grounded you.
“i’ve been in your apartment for fucking months.” he admitted, no shame now, no hesitation, just honesty. “been watching you. installed cameras in your room, got one in your shower..fuck. my girl, aren’t you? my sweet, sweet girl.” he rambled, breathing in your scent.
you heart bloomed so softly, your eyes watering once more.
“waiting for you to notice..wanted you to notice so badly, y/n. i needed you to know it was me. didn’t even think you knew i existed.”
your quivering lips parted to let out a noise of rejection, as though the notion was insanity in itself. you had noticed him immediately.
“i see you, see all of you, and i want it. i want all of you, i want that sick fucking part of your brain because mine is sicker.” he admitted, voice so much harsher than before. “you’re all i think about, all i can ever see, i wake up, study, and watch you. that’s it. i orbit you.”
his other hand gripped your hips, grinding you harshly against him as his actions began to become readied, assured. he was playing with you purposefully.
“i like following you too. i know your coffee orders, know what sizes you wear, know where you like to study.” he whispered this, as though it was a secret only for you to hear. “you’re branded on me. took your panties every chance i got because it’s the only thing that gets me off anymore. need to feel you, need to feel close to you.”
a strangled noise left your throat, as you clung to him tightly, your own hips moving in unison as you tried to hold back your tears. your heart was ready to explode out of your chest from a mixture of overwhelming joy. the man of your dreams was picking you, the real you, openly because he too was like you. sick in the head.
“i didn’t touch that girl.” he added suddenly, tone suddenly filled with venom, a tone you had yet to hear from him. he was offended beyond belief. “i’d never touch another woman other than you, y/n. not when you’re right here.”
his words finally broke you, as you once more, burst out into deep sobs.
you were being seen.
you were being chosen.
every negative emotion that chained you to gaping hole in your mind was brushed away, letting the darkness exist finally within its own right. others would have demanded it to close, to hide away, to make sure they never even caught a glimpse of it.
jungkook wanted to nurture it. he was picking you, choosing you, based on it, because of it.
“you hacked my phone because you went looking for me.” he whispered, his own eyes glistening lightly, cooing as he wiped your tears earnestly. “baby..i..i’ve been building my life for you.”
“really?” you desperately asked through your cries, body shaking in his arms.
he nodded, chest rising and falling at the sight of you, his sweet, gorgeous girl.
“you’re not too far gone.” he promised. “you’re just finally catching up with me.”
the movement between you began to slow as you began to hold one another, finally giving in to your desires, your cheek against his bare chest, openly breathing in his scent as you sobbed, and sobbed and sobbed.
minutes later, when you had finally managed to calm, and his chest sat glistening from your tears, he pressed a soft kiss to your head, causing you to look up through sniffles and hiccups.
“you’re tired.” his thumb brushed under your eye, catching the dampness that still remained as though it personally offended him.
you didn’t think to argue. he was right.
not physically, more so something deep inside you. you could feel the exhaustion in your bones, deep inside your stomach, through the ridges of your brain - you felt both alive and dead all at once.
you simply nodded at him, causing a soft grin to form on his face.
“i want you to go home.”
your brows pulled together faintly like you didn’t quite understand.
home?
his hand slid down to your thigh, squeezing once gently. “go home, get in bed, don’t wait up, okay? just go.”
you stare at him. it felt like an instruction, felt like care.
“but..what about you?” you asked, voice croaky from your earlier cries.
his lips twitched into something small, a sense of assurance lifting in his shoulders, relief clear on his face from the way you pulled at him.
“i’ll watch you.”
you knew those words should have felt wrong, and yet, they settled inside of you like a kiss to the soul. your breath managed to steady for the first time that night.
“okay.”
no hesitations. no questions. no thoughts. no concerns.
his eyes darkened at the thought of you so pliant for him, as though you wanted him to simply think on your behalf, a role he was more than happy to fulfil.
within the next ten minutes, jungkook cleaned your tearful face of any mascara streaks, you had spoken to yejin who jumped up to take you home immediately, as a good friend should, and you were already in your apartment.
it took another half an hour to properly prepare for bed, but once you were, dressed in nothing more than tiny little panties and a tank, you felt safer than you had ever in your life. wrapped in the plush of your covers, your cute teddy bear sat somewhere on the bed, your washed hair pulled out of your face - it was the assurance that jungkook could see you right now that ultimately led you asleep.
he too had managed to get home, preparing for a nightly visit to his laptop. he had gotten it out, positioning it on his lap as he watched you sleep like a baby, all curled up, so sweet, so darling.
his weepy girl. he had just begun in telling you his feelings, but now, he knew it was time to actually show you. the thought had his stomach bouncing in knots.
—
life after the confession remained oddly the same. you were sure that a big tsunami of change would come, a pit of anxiety in your stomach forming at the unknown, and yet everything felt eerily familiar. once you realised it was because he had been a constant in your life, whether you realised it or not, from day one, it all became clear. you woke up each morning, knowing he was watching you, showered knowing he was watching you, ate your breakfast, brushed your hair, got dressed - all of it. you did it with the knowledge that he was watching you.
you didn’t expect it to feel so safe, so comforting. a constant state of surveillance would have upset anyone else, but to you? each time you woke up, knowing he was there, it felt like a declaration of unadulterated love. your heart bloomed to know jungkook cared for you so much he couldn’t ease a waking moment without you, even using you in the background when you slept just so he too could relax.
anytime you would catch him in the hallways, neither of you pretended anymore. you simply looked, stared even, fingers grazing secretly as an act of acknowledgment. you wanted him, he wanted you more but alas, the game was not done.
oh, not at all - why would either of you stop when he had just began?
to have you so willing was merely a bonus on top of everything.
the quiet between you and jungkook grew with each passing day, but with it, an assured comfort - you wanted more, as did he, but taking the first step was difficult when all you had known was one another in a different state. to hide in the shadows felt safer.
the announcement came on a grey, dark thursday, with misted clouds collecting in the sky, condensation heavy against the windows of your university campus. it was the sort of afternoon that made winter feel heavier, quieter. slower. students were half sleeping, half listening, whilst the scratch of pens and and laptop keyboards echoed throughout the lecture hall.
your professor droned on and on as you continued to doodle, as you had been doing for the past hour. his monotone voice filled the space whilst you peered over the dark screen of your laptop, positioned in its usual way to glance at jungkook any chance you got. again, though you couldn’t see his face, it didn’t deter you.
you continued marking your notebook as you long abandoned your physics work, instead opting to draw little loops of jk, jungkook and tiny hearts you blacked out, with the intention of doing more and more. all this whilst pretending to make notes on quantum states, a content look on your face.
pathetic, you knew, but there was a sense of security in knowing you didn’t have to hide anymore. there was comfort in it, and that made you feel good enough to not care anymore if anyone watched what you were doing. the guys who sat beside you were curious enough, always trying to flirt, always trying to get your attention - one look at your battered notebook and they got the message loud and clear.
you were halfway through tracing his surname next to your own name for the twentieth time that session when professor choi cleared his throat, demanding everyone’s attention.
“now, onto the research practicum. i don’t want to hear any of you whining about not being able to find someone to partner up with, so i’ve taken it upon myself to put you into pairs.” he said, adjusting his glasses. “no changes. no swaps. you’re all adults now, and i expect the best of your ability.”
everyone groaned around you, causing you to sigh quietly underneath your breath. you were sure you’d be paired with someone who barely knew anything, in hopes of supporting that student - you couldn’t be bothered to pick up the slack for two people, and so, you sat there, eyes closed, already feeling the low buzz of annoyance.
names were called, people either happy or hiding their frustration, causing you to cringe when you realised your name was up next.
you braced.
“y/n y/l/n, you’re with..ah, yes. jeon jungkook.”
a beat passed in the room.
your pencil dropped from your fingers, clattering against the table loudly before you moved to collect it instinctively, your shoulders raising high in a mixture of shock, confusion, alarm and suspicion. your body went still in a way that felt violent - not butterflies or nerves, but instead, something so much darker.
you could feel your stomach cave in itself as your professor continued rattling off names, heat rushing to your cheeks, chest, fingertips. shallow breaths left your lips as you nervously peered over your laptop screen to gauge something, anything.
only, he wasn’t there.
not in front of you, three rows down. not where you felt most safe seeing him, in the blur of the back of his head, face obscured and figure present. not where he always sat, broad shoulders hunched over a screen, fingers tapping in that restless, impatient rhythm you could sometimes hear if you strained hard enough.
your heart stuttered, almost pained.
was he..not happy?
immediately, your brain went into overdrive as your now shaking hands cupped one another, lip bitten hard to hold back the intensely overwhelming waft of emotions in your head, toying with the idea that he didn’t want to be around you. the game was over. he realised how deeply messed up you were. he hated you. he was disgusted by you. he thought nothing of you.
an almost whimper left your lips as you considered that you may have imagined it all entirely - that perhaps your brain, so primed to have everything circle back to him, had merely conjured it up.
your hands were shaking harder now as you tried to relax your restless body, the onslaught of your demeaning thoughts beginning to take over you, feeling the emotion rise in your throat and pull at your eyes. you looked down at your notebook, adorned with his name, almost ready to weep.
a chair scraped next to you.
slow. deliberate. purposefully harsh.
the sound cut through the room like a blade, a few people even turning to look at such a loud noise, some grumbling in annoyance and others turning away.
you, however, looked up, with teary eyes, letting out a small exhale of what could only be described as relief.
there he stood, jungkook, laptop gripped, bag slung over his shoulder whilst his notes sat comfortably in his notebook in his other hand. he was maddeningly calm, as though he had every intention of taking up all of your personal space, like it was his and his alone.
your entire nervous system felt ablaze as you watched him sit down, not bothering to spare anyone around you both a spare glance, ignoring the professor ahead, attention on you and only you.
he noticed the beads at your waterline, the way your lip jutted out gently in a quivering pout, all against your will. his chest tightened, half in awe and other half absolutely enamoured by how sweet you looked - there was nothing he loved more than seeing you up close and personal like this, but seeing you so visibly emotional?
he wasn’t a fool, especially when it came to you. he knew you inside out, knew that you liked to stare at him all lesson just above your laptop screen, and figured once you hadn’t seen him after being paired, your brain began assuming the worst.
his silly girl.
he knew, of course he knew.
the second he had sat down and caught the dew in your eyes, and the way you hid your trembling lip in that telltale way you had when emotion threatened to overspill, his very fucking soul tightened at the mere sight of you.
you had thought he didn’t want this. didn’t want you as his partner.
didn’t want you.
the idea alone was offensive to his personhood, a concept that felt both foreign and false - he couldn’t even fathom it. he knew you were different, and despite being equally as fucked up, you were still his angel girl who processed things differently to him. he knew obsession manifested in different ways but his heart genuinely pained at the thought of you so delicately upset at the thought of it being a reality.
his jaw flexed once. twice.
his things were put out properly, his laptop beside your own, as the other students in the room began to copy him, walking over to their partners. this gave a moment of private reprise between you as he looked, properly looked at you.
jungkook swore something animalistic stirred in his chest at the sight of you. so soft, so devastated, all for him.
he leaned in closer, inappropriate even, as your perfume wrapped around his brain so harshly he felt as though he was in your room, engulfed in your scent.
“hey.” barely a whisper.
your big eyes lifted, wet. so ruined.
he nearly folded. “look at me.”
he wasn’t commanding you, no. he couldn’t bring himself to do that when your brain was already being unreasonable, his voice carrying a tone of hurt that had you meeting his gaze immediately despite how you felt. you obeyed, of course you did, no matter how damp your lashes were.
you felt so embarrassed. you were emotional by nature, but this was different. he was different. you had never wanted anything more in your entire existence, and you were still grappling with the fact he knew about your filthy obsession for him - so much that your brain often failed you whenever you’d think about it for too long, rendering you useless. thus, the negative thoughts came running in.
“did you think i left?” he asked.
you couldn’t bring yourself to answer him.
that, however, was answer enough.
his eyebrows furrowed as a flash of hurt ran over his face, only making you nibble on your lip further as a means to stop the quivering, looking away momentarily before meeting his gaze once more.
“sweet girl.” he breathed, a reprimand heavy on his tongue. he sounded like heartbreak personified. “just moved so i could come sit next to you.”
the words landed heavily inside your chest, falling all the way into your heart and dripping down to your stomach, a sense of reassurance you weren’t expecting engulfing you. unfortunately for you, you felt your lip quivering so much more, as you desperately blinked the tears away, so embarrassed to be crying in front of him again.
you nodded a little, hearing his words, the relief soothing every crack you had created within mere seconds of overthinking. he watched you, watched your cute face, the way you sank into your chair, the way your hands clutched the messy notebook on your lap.
his eyes did a double take.
your notebook.
his lips parted as his gaze settled on the book inbetween your hands, and more importantly, the page you had been doodling in for god knows how long. you snuck a glance at him, eyebrows furrowing a little by the intense stare at your hands until you realised exactly what he was looking at.
your blood ran cold.
all those stupid hearts. his name. your name. both of your names together. his last name with your first name, decorated and coloured, worshiped as though it was the prettiest thing your fingers could bring yourself to spell. they were dreams in black ink.
your hands instantly moved to shut it, but you were way too slow. his palm covered the page before you could shield it from him, hand touching yours openly, both warm and possessive. you were struck by his touch, your entire body stilling once more as you felt the sparks ignite in your stomach, all whilst he pulled it away from your lap, and into his own.
he kept his hand against you, now sat in you lap, whilst his other hand flickered through the pages almost eagerly. too eager.
his hand on you traced your thighs, touching your fingers, holding them against his in a warm embrace, grounding you, feeling the rush through his veins just feeling you. he could see from the corner of his eye your shoulders had relaxed massively, but the anxiety on your face was still evident as he flicked through pages and pages and pages and pages of his name.
jungkook stared and stared and stared, fingers tracing jagged paper from where you’d gone over certain letters a hundred time to tattoo it to the book. a shaking breath left him as he looked over your name matched with his last name.
y/n jeon. fuck.
“looks right.” he whispered, under his breath, but your hypersensitive body caught it immediately.
you looked at him immediately, gaze intense as you watched him, listened to him. his tone had become so much rougher, a hint of desperation tinging every last sentence. your chest rose and fell harshly as you absorbed his words, every inch of your very soul clinging to it like a lifeline.
jungkook took a hold of your pen, letting go of your body for a moment, to which you almost chased it back with a whine. he angled it on the paper, on a completely new page, and began doing the same as you, writing out your name along with his last name, the action bringing him more pleasure than anything he had ever done in his life yet. he was breathing heavily, hands slightly shaky as he traced and traced and traced and traced.
bravely, you reached out for his arm, fingers pressing into the skin gently as your large, teary eyes brought him back to you. the small action of him affirming you only nurtured the growing parasite in your brain, confirming to you why he was worth obsessing over - he was everything.
instead, he took a hold of your hand once more, before slyly bringing it to his lips, kissing over your knuckles one by one. then, kissing your ring finger, as though it was an act of promise, his darkened eyes never leaving yours.
“that name,” he tapped against the book, “i’ll make it yours.”
you were relieved that the room was chaos, with people chatting loudly, moving around, the professor still looking through his notes, allowing you both to converse freely, as you took a sharp intake of breath.
what better gift to a sick mind like yours and his, than a promise of eternity?
“really?” you managed to choke out, desperately fighting tears back as you begged yourself not to cry, not again. you just couldn’t help it. you felt so weepy around him.
“the plans i have for you, y/n..” he shook his head lightly, as though offended you would ever even think otherwise. “gonna get us a house, a ring on your finger. our kids, our pets.”
with each word, you watched a look of genuine bliss overcome him, as he shifted in his seat, as though the thought of such a dream life, his guaranteed future, aroused him to a scary degree. you could see the tent in his sweats begin to form, as he rolled his shoulders, legs wide enough to carry no shame. you, on the other hand, had shifted so much closer to him, your bodies now sat side to side, your hips touching, his hand intertwined to yours and pressed into your lap.
“i want all of that.” a tiny wounded noise left you at the end of your sentence, as you finally looked down at your hands, holding his tighter. “so badly..”
jungkook was fucking enamoured by you. his sweet, angel girl - your heart was too big for your body. look at the way you got all upset at the prospect of everything you had wanted confirmed. god, it had him hardening by the second, moving your tied hands over his bulge as both a means to hide it and to simply feel your touch.
you nuzzled against it immediately, though the action was hidden by the notebook by any prying eyes. his jaw hardened as he looked down at you, watching, observing, the two of you a sight for sore eyes indeed.
in the background, your professor dismissed you all as he gathered his own things, but neither of you made an effort to move, too busy caught up in each other’s feel, as your fingers caressed his hardened bulge. not enough friction to get him off, but your curiosity, your light touch - it felt better than anything. paired with those teary eyes? fuck, jungkook was ready to scream.
the room emptied pretty quickly, and no one, again, speed either of you a glance. the two smartest students paired together? it was obvious you just wanted to situate yourself in your partnership, and so, soon enough, you sat alone in a large, echoing room.
he couldn’t stop staring at you.
he moved the book, pushed it onto the table before letting go of you entirely, though your touch remained on him. he grabbed your chair and yanked, pulling it until you all but practically fell onto him in proximity, grunting lightly under his breath at the feel of you all over.
“mm. my girl, aren’t you?” he whispered lowly, as his thumb reached out to trace your bottom lip. “my soon to be wife. it’s inevitable, baby. it has to happen.”
you nodded through his words as you sniffled a little, your emotions catching up to you. “and you’ll be my husband, forever and ever?”
“always. fuck.” he nodded immediately, eyes closing for a second at your words. “why do you think i work so hard, hm? gotta give you the life you deserve, y/n, gotta make sure you get everything you ever want.”
silly boy, you wanted to scream into his face, as your lip quivered once more, a lone tear finally escaping as it rushed over your cheeks. all you fucking wanted was him. you didn’t care if you were in a run down shoebox for the rest of your life - as long as he was there, and he was yours, then it was fine. he belonged to you.
you felt overwhelmed. you felt like you were barely together.
jungkook’s expression changed evidently - not soft, never that. he seemed determined.
his hand tightened against yours, as though he was trying to understand how you had ever even reached your original conclusion, as though he genuinely couldn’t understand the way your brain worked despite it mirroring his in so many different ways. how had your brain turned the inevitable of him and you, into a mere possibility? you had no choice in this, didn’t you understand?
and so, without really thinking, his hands darted out for you. one on your waist, the other on your hip, lifting you with a practised ease and straight onto his lap, hearing your strangled gasp and not caring a second. his girl crying over him? a concept that typically would have had him snapping his hips into yours meanly, but this was different. how much more did he need to do, to get you to understand?
your legs sat on either side of him, your cute skirt flowing on each side of you too. he pushed you right against him, your lips parting in shock as you could feel him directly against you, bulge against damp panties, your teary eyes now forced to look up at darkened ones peering down at you.
“your brain is making you think stupid shit, y/n.” he said, almost meanly, though the way he was caging you in, the way his head dropped to yours was anything but. “what part of this made you think i don’t want you?”
“no..it’s just..you moved and..”
he sighed a little, thumb pressed onto your lip once more as he lightly shook his head at you. he was pushing, and pushing, until it slipped into your mouth, resting it on your tongue.
the heaviness had you wrapping your lips around it instantly as you stared at one another, your tongue lapping at it gently, though you teary eyes remained. it felt charged, sexual by nature and yet given the circumstance you were in, it was so much deeper.
“listen to me.” his tone dropped as his eyes darkened, earning him an obedient nod as you continued to lick and suck lightly, all whilst he cradled you into his lap like you were the sweetest thing on earth. “there isn’t a scenario, a factor. anything. that could make me not want you, y/n.”
his voice felt mean, harsher than you’d ever heard it, but with the way your shoulders slumped, it was exactly what you needed.
“no scenario could stop this. you could change your mind tomorrow and decide you don’t want this, baby, and i still wouldn’t fucking stop, you understand me?” he pushed his thumb deeper into your mouth. “there’s no escaping me. no escaping any of this.”
you nodded again, just as he removed his thumb from your mouth, panting lightly at the sight of a thin string of saliva connecting you and his digit. he’d replay that memory tonight.
“need you stop thinking.” he whispered then, just as your arms clambered up, wrapping them around his neck to pull him in closer, breathing in his scent. “keep working yourself into circles that don’t exist..i’m right here.”
your entire body eased, like a switch had been flipped and all of your negative thoughts had finally been eradicated. his voice, his presence, that heaviness to his voice - it all softened the hardened edges of your brain, causing you to practically slump in his arms. he could feel it too, from the way your tightened grip lessened, but you grew more comfortable in his arms.
you looked so pretty, he thought, as he properly took his time in examining you. a touch of makeup, your sweet pink jumper, a cute shirt peaking out from underneath and white skirt, you were the epitome of adorable - he wanted nothing more than to preserve you like this forever, all flushed cheeks and gentle eyes. this was why he was so deeply infatuated, how could he not be?
“this is new.” he muttered quietly to himself as his hands tugged at your jumper, fingers playing with the hem before sliding underneath, just to touch against your skin directly.
you blinked up at him. “hm?”
he was taking it in, looking at the way your skirt had bunched due to the way you were sat so intimately against him. he could feel the dampness from your panties, and though he was obsessive, he was a gentleman first - he simply pushed his bulge firmer against you to offer some relief.
the pretty sigh that escaped you was enough to have him offering you a slight smile, so enamoured by his gorgeous girl.
“you didn’t have this before.” he tugged at your jumper.
your heart boomed at his attention of detail - no doubt after months of breaking into your bedroom and going through all your things. fuck, it was so romantic it hurt.
“i just got it yesterday. do you like it?” you asked a little shyly.
“fucking love it, baby. love it so much.” his response was immediate, causing a big smile to form on your face almost instantly.
now that. that floored him.
he couldn’t help but match the grin on your face with a huff of amusement, enjoying how quickly your mood had changed from a single compliment. he’d be sure to do it more often.
“been staring at you the whole lecture, couldn’t focus on anything else.” he admitted through his own grin. “you look so cute.”
your hands met at the back of his neck, playing with the stray hair that had grown too long, your smile doing enough to brighten his entire day. the mood had shifted between you, something akin to playfulness as you quietly conversed, despite your intimate position, small giggles leaving you whilst he whispered things, allowing for a moment of ease. this was new, and outside the realm of heavy emotion you were both used to.
it felt fresh, rewarding even, to be able to just talk to him without your brain whizzing a million miles per hour. it felt good, and just looking at him, you could tell he the felt the same tenfold. he made a comment that had you giggling even louder, your head thrown forward towards his shoulder to which he too, matched you, laughing quietly, ego skyrocketing from the way he could make his girl laugh.
fuck. knowing all of these months of such meticulous stalking had led him to here, right now? he’d do it again in a heartbeat.
his laughter softened first.
not fully gone, but quieter, like it had gotten caught somewhere in his chest whilst admiring you, his sheer emotion for you so much bigger, suffocating it down. his hands beneath your jumper, holding onto your skin so firmly stilled as he tilted his head back, listening.
footsteps.
voices.
faint at first, but growing louder in the hallway outside.
you didn’t notice, not when you were too busy tucking into him, too comfortable, too content. you felt settled in a way you had never felt before, breathing in his scent whilst mumbling something about the project, light little comments without thought.
he noticed though, of course he did. his blood boiled at the thought of someone interrupting you when you were so soft, so relaxed - jaw tightening. you were in your own world, completely unaware of reality that sat just behind double doors metres away.
fuck.
he didn’t want to move you.
didn’t want to shift you when you were so happy perched on him, lightly grinding your core against him for relief, all the whilst keeping up normal conversation - you were the epitome of sweet, all warm and soft and exactly right.
but he wasn’t about to allow anyone see this. see you like this.
“hey.” he murmured, quietly.
he watched as you hummed, not pulling away, not even bothering to look up from your position - just nuzzling closer like you hadn’t heard a thing.
his mouth twitched with fondness.
“baby.”
that got you.
you lifted your head slowly, blinking at him, dazed, as though you had been pulled from a dream like state.
“we gotta move.” his thumb traced your cheek.
you shut your eyes tight immediately, with an almost bratty shake of your head, going back to your position immediately. “no..i don’t wanna.”
that did something to him.
he bucked his hips into you, causing a low whimper to get stuck in your throat. he nuzzled his nose into your hair, breathing in your scent intimately as he rubbed your back.
“yeah..i know.” he said, more to himself than anything.
unfortunately for you both, the voices outside the room were only getting louder, meaning people would be walking in any moment now. he made the decision then.
one hand slid from under your jumper,smoothing it down properly - almost subconsciously. he knew you didn’t like to look dishevelled, always appearing perfect no matter where you went, and despite your dazed brain, he would keep that up for you of course.
“c’mon.” he whispered, watching your arms tighten around his neck with a frown as he picked you up just as he stood, easing you back down onto your feet himself.
the pout on your face had him almost groaning out loud from how cute you looked, with a face of genuine upset lining each of your features at having to leave such a soft state. you felt so good, and now it was all over, a horrible sinking feeling filling your tummy at the thought. he couldn’t bare to look at you like this, not when he was half hard and sporting a small wet patch on his crotch from where you had been lightly grinding, and certainly not when you were looking at him like he was capable of hanging the moon and stars.
“you wanna go home?” he asked you, quiet, as he gathered both of your things.
you nodded, dejected at the thought of the day coming to a close with him, unsure of whether to reach for his fingers now you could actually hear people outside. you weren’t sure what to do now you had broken another wall between you.
your fingers twitched at your side, like your body was fighting an internal battle - one half desperate to grab him, the other half still battling the normalcy you had both been playing into for weeks.
jungkook noticed, of course he did.
his eyes dropped to your hands, the way you were shuffling them, before he shifted closer, arm sliding around your waist with ease. he held all of your things in one hand whilst you slipped your half empty bag over your shoulder, one hand on him at all times, holding him tight to you.
his jaw flexed, subtly, thinking too much for a man who had spent his entire life finding answers coming naturally to him.
“i’m coming with you.” he said, with a tone of finality.
your breath caught.
you looked up at him, eyes lighting up more than he had ever seen, face filled with a level of excitement that had him softening in front of you. his shoulders slumped lightly at the sight, a faint smile forming at the way you looked up.
“really?”
“yeah.” he nodded, laughing lightly. “come on.”
his hand slid down to properly intertwine with your own before he pulled it up to his lips, planting a soft, buttery kiss so faintly on the back of it, you wondered if he had done it at all. he led you to the doors, large back almost hiding you completely due to your size difference, something that had your brain leaking with every chance.
the hallway was much busier than either of you had expected, confirming his decision to get up when you did. the thought of anyone else seeing you so pliant truly made him angry, the deep, sadistic part of his brain igniting at the sheer idea.
you couldn’t help the soft smile that was present on your face as you looked at your intertwined hands, biting back a bigger grin as he led you through, not sparing anyone else a single glance. you were the most popular girl on campus, someone who rarely dated, never gave anyone a chance, especially not people that were deemed to be on your social calibre and yet here you were, hand in hand with a nerd from your physics class.
to say people were staring was an understatement.
your heart was beating out of your chest as you felt jungkook squeeze your hand, offering you a look as he pulled you flush against him. the both of you walked beside one another, all whilst people whispered, some gawking, others analysing you both in genuine confusion. none of them knew.
none of them understood the sick fucking idolisation you both had interlaced into each other’s minds.
he dipped his head as you walked to the entrance, this thumb still caressing your head. “you look so fucking pretty.”
your stomach flipped.
“you already said that.” you flushed with a gentle pat to his arm, something that had his dimpled cheek on show.
“and you deserve to hear it again.” he said almost casually, causing you to giggle behind your hand, flustered beyond belief.
by the time you reached the exit, the air around you felt so much different. it felt charged, both cold and sharp, and yet it did nothing to cool your overheated body. if anything, you felt even more aware of him as you left the safety of your shared campus and out into the real world, out into reality where things were so much harsher - more real.
his hand. you were hyper aware of it now.
the way it refused to let you go even as he pushed the door open for you, guiding you through like it was an instinct. despite the heavy stares, he remained dismissive of everyone else, it meant little to him after all. he wasn’t used to the looks, but it came with the territory - you were the hottest girl on campus, and you were all fucking his.
you both slowed on the steps. not completely, but enough to have you coming to a pause.
you looked up at him, all starry eyed. “my place..or?”
and there it was. jungkook’s jaw twitched, his eyes darkening instantly as he took a heavy step towards you.
“mine.” no hesitation.
your breath hitched, lips parting.
“it’s closer.” he explained. “and i don’t feel like waiting.”
your stomach was flipping violently as all you could give him was a pathetic nod, fingers clinging to him harsher than ever.
and this time, when he pulled you close, leading you to his car that was parked relatively nearby, there was no hesitation whatsoever. jungkook was a man starved, finally about to take his fill - every inch of you. all his
—
stepping foot into jungkook’s apartment was exactly what you assumed it would be.
he was a meticulous person by nature, and as a result, his living space depicted that clearly - rows of bookshelves all neatly arranged, whilst the decor remained minimal and clean, tones of navy and cream throughout. there were little things, things that didn’t quite match if anyone else had walked in, but to your eye, you understood immediately.
a pink and white throw sat on the edge of the couch, folded. you recognised it to be the exact one you had conveniently ‘lost’ two weeks ago. rows of candles sat among the bookshelves, some completely used, scents you recognised as the exact ones you’d often buy. it wasn’t until you looked closer that you realised they really were the candles that were once in your own room.
you turned to look at him, a small smile pulling at your lips.
he met your gaze, quiet, simply watching, examining even, to see your reaction. to see the romance flourish from behind your eyes felt assuring in ways he didn’t realise he could feel, and yet here he was.
he watched as you put your bag down, tucking strands of hair behind your ear, already feeling comfortable. you couldn’t explain it, but being here felt the epitome of safety, and you knew that was his exact intention, a soft sigh of content leaving your lips as you took a few steps forward, your shoes by the door.
“smells so nice.” you murmured quietly, looking over your shoulder as you walked into his space properly.
“i bought the diffuser you like.” he responded smoothly, watching a smile pull at your features in real time.
“you’re so cute.” you squeaked, hands rushing to your own cheeks as though you couldn’t take it. instead, his darkened eyes narrowed. “don’t call me that.”
you ignored him, letting out an exaggerated sigh of fondness as you walked into his kitchen next, fingers brushing against his clean counters, peering at the snacks on his dining table.
“these are my favourite sweets.” you hummed absentmindedly, picking up the pack of sour cherries.
he didn’t respond, causing you to turn on your heel, to peer over and see where his attention lay. upon looking at him, you noticed a gentle dusting of pink on the tops of his cheeks, his ears stained red. it wasn’t that he had any shame in stalking you, non whatsoever - this just felt different. it felt domesticated, or as domesticated as it could get between people as fucked up as you both.
your scents, your candles, your blanket, your favourite snacks. it was like his space was curated in mind of you and you alone. as though his only thought process was that everything in his life went back to you anyway, and so it naturally made sense to come home to something that felt like you. of all the things he had done, all the things he had said, it was this. this that truly made you feel wanted.
and so, once you stopped your thinking, you found yourself walking back over to him, all as he watched, stood, examining you. his eyebrows lifted in partial shock as you immediately wrapped your arms around his waist, holding him to you as though you were a koala desperate to be held.
he immediately reciprocated.
his arms wrapped around you also, holding you close to his chest as you snuggled deeper, breathing in his scent almost hungrily. as your eyes met, he couldn’t help but stare at the freckles held in your eyes, something choking him from the inside from the mere look you gave him.
you were transcendent, beyond belief and theory - he knew in his heart of hearts he wasn’t worthy of one inch of you, and yet he would never let you go. you were all his, until his dying breath.
“it feels different to what i thought it would be like.” you admitted, in a small voice, eyes cast down to his stomach momentarily before resuming your stare at him.
“what?” he rasped, voice tight.
you let silence settle between you for a second.
“i’ve always wanted you. i just..i don’t know, i guess i never thought of there being a reality where this could actually work, i mean.. i didn’t exactly think you’d be like me.” you confessed, eyebrows slightly knitted.
it was his turn for his eyebrows to furrow.
“you could have had me,” his voice sounded rough. “you could have had me the moment you saw me.”
“not in the way i wanted.” you immediately shook your head.
he looked confused.
“it’s hard to explain, okay? i don’t know.” you sighed a little as one of his hands lifted, cupping your cheek. “just always thought that i’d have to hide this side of me so i wouldn’t scare you away, and now that this is real and it’s happening, i just..i never expected it to be like this. it feels different.”
he absorbed your words.
he understood them, of course he did. he differed from you openly - he had always known that if he was to get a taste of your company, he’d keep you shackled to his obsession under lock and key. you, however, were so sweet, so darling - how could he listen to your words without his heart aching so gently?
“no matter how disturbed you feel by your own brain,” he whispered then, thumb tracing your cheek. “no matter how fucked up, just know that i’ve done it too. i’ve done worse and just because i have you, it doesn’t mean i’ll stop. you know that, right baby?” he almost cooed.
your eyelashes fluttered gently, as though you were being told a fucking lullaby.
“promise?” you asked.
instead of responding, jungkook released your face, instead planting the sweetest of kisses to your forehead, breath slightly shaky as he pulled away. taking a hold of your hand, intertwining your fingers, he stepped back slowly but surely. your eyebrows knitted as you watched him edge towards another door, one you assumed was his bedroom.
he didn’t rush you. never. it wasn’t in his nature to make you despite his certainty - so used to being unyielding in every other aspect of his life. every move felt measured, calculated, as though whatever sat behind the door of his bedroom held more weight than anything you were able to conjure.
“c’mere.”
you followed without question.
his room was dimmer than any other part of his apartment, with blinds drawn to only allow for small slivers of sunlight to bleed over his oak flooring. everything sat in its place meticulously, almost too well, with his large bed made to perfection, his clothes cung, ironed crisply and his desk.
his desk sat in the corner of the room, and though the space was large, it took up a considerable chunk considering the three monitors that sat idly, waiting to be turned on.
his space was odd. you couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but a small part of you assumed that he kept it pristine on purpose - perhaps in hopes that it would be ready always for you. you nibbled away on your bottom lip, eyes taking in everything as he continued to lead you inside, your scent seemingly everywhere. it mingled with his own.
your brain went blank as he turned to face you, properly now, leading you over to his chair, rolling it out lightly before taking a comfortable seat. you watched him, head tilted, almost ready to question what he was doing before his arms darted out at you.
large hands grabbed at your waist, pulling you back until you were being pushed onto his lap. he situated you so your back touched his chest comfortably, a position you were very quickly enjoying as you could feel his hands quite literally all over you.
you felt secure, safe. you felt entirely whole in his arms like this, so much so that you let out a soft sigh, just as his head dipped. his lips began grazing the skin of your neck, letting out his own deep exhales, breathing in your scent so openly it had your thighs trembling. he could feel it. could feel all of you. you on his lap, snuggled into him, his aching cock already nestled against you. you felt like home.
the shaky breath that escaped you pleased him greatly, as it acted as direct confirmation of how you felt. just like he did.
“eyes on the screens, baby.” he whispered down at you, catching you staring at him over your shoulder. “c’mere. got something to show you.”
you properly rested against him now, watching as one of his hands darted out to the mouse, his computer finally turning on.
the shy smile that formed as you watched him type in his password, your name, to access his desktop was beyond anything. he could feel the way you curled into him deeper, even going so far as to grind against him lightly. enough to have him bucking up at you, but also not enough to ever claim anything other than mere innocence.
you watched as the screens came to life, jungkook clicking a few things, moving others around as he took his time in whatever he awaited to show you. you were beginning to get restless, moving around on his lap, nibbling away on your lip a little more - you had all of his attention and yet you wanted so much more of it, until you were fully overwhelmed.
“stay still.” he let out a sudden hiss.
you flushed.
you hadn’t realised that your panties were practically stuck to you, skin to skin, from how wet you were getting. from the moment in the classroom until now, you had been horny, that was for certain, but this was different. jungkook had yet to even kiss you, and yet you were grinding yourself on his cock like it was the most normal thing in the world.
suddenly, you were brought out of your haze, your hips stilling for a second as you tried to comprehend what your eyes were seeing before you on the screens.
was that..?
your gasp was loud enough to echo around the room, as jungkook’s hands now sat firmly against your stomach, refusing to let you go, despite what was directly in front of you.
your room.
the camera angle was situated to the top of your wardrobe, tilted so it had the perfect angle of your entire room, most notably your bedroom. your bed still sat in the way you had left it, done, with your teddy sat comfortably in the middle. your makeup station was as messy as always, as you had ran slightly late, causing you to assure yourself you could just clean it when you were home.
the flashing red dot in the corner was what had you struggling to breathe.
live?
“jungkook.” your breath caught, sharp and fragile, like it might shatter had you moved whatsoever.
he continued planting kisses to your neck softly, guiding upwards until he reached your jaw and cheek. “keep looking, baby.”
the second screen shifted. your bathroom. notably, your shower.
this one sat high, connected to the ceiling of your shower, tilted downwards so it was all it could see. that had you gasping even louder as you lurched forward, his grip breaking on you as you examined the screen from up close. a sick part of him wanted to punish you for leaving his arms so easily, but he draw an exception - you were too cute when you were shocked.
your heart began pounding out of your fucking chest. not out of fear, not quite - something else, something much heavier. something that made your skin tight with want, the very parasite in your brain singing loudly as it interpreted this in the only way it knew how.
jungkook loved you.
you could see it now, see it clearer than ever, as your throat began to constrict, holding back a wave of emotion you truly weren’t ready for. you leaned back into his arms after a few moments, to which he simply watched you watch the screens, as though this was the exact moment he had waited for.
it was.
god. jungkook had never been harder watching the realisation settle into your face, into your body. he told you, he had told you from the second he had revealed himself to you that he liked to watch you. you had no idea to what extent, but of course the following you around grew tired after a while.
no, see, he needed something else. something entirely his, that infringed on your very personal being - he wanted to take something from you so it could become his too, shared. he chose your privacy.
you turned to him then, eyes filled with teary wonder, a shaky smile forming on either side of your lips.
“you watch me?” you asked, desperate to hear it confirmed on his lips.
to that, he simply tugged you closer to him, firmly pressing you on his cock once more. “all the time. always.”
you shuddered, fingers clinging to his own that clutched your body. you didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to voice the utter devotion trapped in your throat, not when he was so openly displaying his own. you genuinely believed this to be the most romantic thing anyone had ever one for you, and with the way your pussy soaked him through multiple layers, he knew.
“when you sleep,” he murmured almost thoughtfully, “you curl into your pillow. “cutest thing i’ve ever fucking seen.”
you couldn’t speak. not when your heart was pounding so hard.
“and when you shower..” his eyes shut for a moment, as though imagining. “fuck, baby. you can’t blame me, right? all that water over these tits.”
he was whispering into your ear, rough hands suddenly travelling up to cup your breasts, both engulfing as though it was his every right. you breathed out, immediately closing your eyes at the feel of him massaging, pulling, cupping, squeezing.
you couldn’t speak, couldn’t think. you were staring at your own bedroom, your most intimate space, all whilst he sat, all but worshiping you within the four walls of his own. he continued planting kisses to your neck, your cheek, your head, breathing in the scent in your air whilst long fingers began to unbutton your shirt, pushing your jumper up to your chin, revealing skin with each passing movement.
you let him. of course you did. this was every dream and fantasy all in one.
cold air brushed against bare breasts as he pulled your lacy bra down, just enough to release them, his hands immediately returning to them to provide the attention you deserved.
you let out a smooth whine, all whilst he too huffed under his breath, as though he couldn’t fathom he was touching you like this. he nuzzled his nose into your hair, just as your head tipped back, his fingers circling your nipples, pulling at them gently.
“like watching you play with them..” he whispered then in your ear. “kills me every time.”
“hm?” you let out, watching him toy with you.
“never enough though, is it? need me to do it for you.”
you nodded at that, albeit slightly desperately as you felt your mouth salivate. his hands started to toy with you harder, pushing his hands against your skin as a means to brand you. you could feel it, his silent, invisible mark - it was tattooed onto your very soul, something you were beginning to wear with pride.
“how much..do you watch?” you asked through a breathy moan, as you felt his body shift.
one arm slipped down to your waist, continuing the grinding with ease whilst one hand remained on your boob, pulling, cupping. his mouth dropped to your shoulder, planting kisses on bare skin before sinking his teeth slowly into a bite, marking you physically.
“mm..” he grunted, feeling pleasure up and down his body as all of his blood rushed to his cock, forcing it to strain uncomfortably against his sweats. “every night, i like watching you play with your cunt. your fingers are so small though, never quite hits where you need it, right?”
his words had your brain swimming as you let out a loud moan, fingernails digging into skin. he was spewing filth into your ears, feeding that dirty disease inside of your brain, fostering it. nurturing it.
you shook your head in agreement at his words, only getting wetter and wetter with each passing minute.
the thought of him watching you every night as your fingers plunged in and out of yourself, your thoughts plagued with him and him alone. what he would do to you, how he would treat you, all before you had ever even exchanged a word with him. the frequency of your secret masturbation escapees only got higher and higher after the party, knowing he too was attracted to you.
it all felt like too much and not enough, causing you to turn in his hold. his hands on you dropped as you slid, moving your legs so you were now straddling him, face to face, his eyes finally meeting yours.
you didn’t want to wait, not when he had just shown you the most romantic thing you had ever seen, whispered heartfelt secrets and touched you intimately - enough was enough. you had played the long game, he even longer, and it was time for something to give before your brain shut down completely.
and so, you grabbed jungkook by the face, before pressing your lips against his.
the kiss was unlike anything you had ever experienced, or expected. at first, you took charge, as shock filtered through every running vein of jungkook’s body, his brain unable to compute his reality. that only lasted a few seconds, until he sat up properly, grabbing you with haste and pushing you against his desk, kissing you back with a reverence.
it was neither soft nor gentle, but rather everything you needed it to be.
you tugged him closer as he too did the same, your mouths moving in unison, bodies grinding, using one another. you couldn’t keep your hands off of him and he didn’t bother even trying to fight it, yanking your jumper and shirt off of you completely now, letting it fall somewhere onto the ground, the cool air hitting your skin. you were left in your skirt and underwear, but you watched as he yanked your bra off as though it was a nuisance, finally freeing you completely.
only then did he part from your lips, lowering his head to properly ravish your breasts.
he couldn’t help the loud groan as he bit against your nipples, sucking on them to soothe, only to do it all again. fuck, you were so sweet, even the taste of your skin was enough to have his mind race. he couldn’t bring himself to decide what to do, going between one breast in his pith, to kissing you once more, passionately pushing you further into the desk until it was beginning to bite, only to return to your other breast.
purpled hickeys were beginning to form all over you as he created a constellation, a physical declaration of his feelings for you, a masterpiece made entirely of you and him.
“please.” you begged him, grinding harsher and harsher.
it wasn’t enough. the pleasure would catch, only to be subdued, causing you to faster and faster and yet it wasn’t enough stimulation to get you even close to orgasming for him. he was genuinely breathless at the sight of you, grabbing your hips and lifting you immediately.
he led you to his bed, dropping you in a far gentler manner you were expecting - you, however, grabbed him by his t-shirt and tugged him down before pushing it off of him.
your breath caught as he watched your expression, your shaking hands tracing the tattoos on his arm, the chest and shoulder piece that felt fresh, you fingers trailing over him hungrily. you remembered seeing him like this for the first time at the pool party, how undone you had been at the sight as though it was beyond your wildest imagination - now here you were, underneath him, ready to be ruined.
“look at me.” he panted, nose pushing against yours to get your eyes on him. you obliged. your gazes met, heavy and heated, hands still running over him. “after this..there’s no going back.”
“i know.” you whispered, nodding, knowing the implications of what was to come.
“you’re mine. publicly. visibly. everyone will know.” he fought the burger to capture your lips as he watched you exhale so sweetly, as though what we was saying was music to your ears. “need you to think baby. is that what you want? honestly?”
at that, you pulled him down once more, your lips capturing his in surprise for the second time that day. he melted against yours as your lips moved softer than ever, a gentle but knowing kiss shared between you.
you pulled away slowly. “you’re all i want. i don’t wanna hide how i feel anymore.”
jungkook closed his eyes, still hovering over you as he let out a shaking breath, chest visibly shuddering at your words. god, you were like his personal brand of drug - he could feel you in his blood stream, infusing.
seeing the effect on him had your eyes almost watering, but the need in your stomach was so much bigger. so much harsher.
and so, you tugged at his joggers, as a means to get his attention once more, to which you succeeded as he immediately caught your jaw with his mouth, instead leaning down to remove your skirt immediately. you were left in nothing more than your utterly soaked panties, your legs wide and spread, unable to look away from him.
he let out a loud groan as he parted from your arms, not with resistance of course as your nails dragged against his biceps. he moved down, until he was sat on his knees between your legs, grabbing your thighs and yanking you down the bed with his hold.
you squealed at the sudden movement, only to squeak again when you suddenly felt his nose push against your sensitive clit, all through your clothed cunt. your chest began to rise and fall at the sight of him doing the one thing you had dreamt so regularly of, the way he was openly breathing you in.
god, it was so messed up. he was freaked out beyond belief but he didn’t give a fuck, breathing in his favourite scent. “you know how many panties i’ve stolen from your hamper just to be able to smell this? fuck.”
his words had you flushed from your cheeks to your toes.
“d-don’t say that!”
his eyes met yours.
“used to wrap them around my cock thinking of you, baby.” he practically cooed at you, as he planted pepper kisses to your clit, before finally pushing the material to one side.
you couldn’t even let his words sink into your brain as he finally launched. his mouth attacked your weeping pussy as though you owed him something, and a part of you acknowledged it - he had been sniffing your panties, wrapping them around his cock, pumping in your bed to the thought of you and your scent but now? actually tasting you? he thought he was going to die.
the moans you were letting out echoed onto the walls, and jungkook smirked, knowing they were thin as paper. his friends all lived on either side of him, all in shared apartments whilst he lived alone. though they were not privy to the extent of his perversion, they were well versed in the knowledge of you and his utter devotion. they knew he’d never bring any other woman other than you into his home.
he continued his attack. sucking on your clit to begin with, tracing letters, humming, teeth slightly grazing which had you jolting out of pure stimulation before he pinned you back onto the bed. your hands rushed into his air, desperate for a semblance of comfort that only he could provide.
it took you a full minute to realise what he was spelling out on your poor pussy.
he was telling you he loved you, with v’s and o’s and i’s all curated to bring you closer and closer to cumming on his tongue, all whilst a finger began to prod at your entrance. within seconds, he inserted, letting it go as deep as you could take it, causing you to let out a loud whine.
you were being forced still on the bed, with one hand on your stomach pinning you down, all the whilst jungkook attacked. he pumped and licked, only to insert another finger whilst you were still getting adjusted to one.
you had been with other guys, sure, all before jungkook was even a thing in your mind. none were very good with their hands, or anything for that matter, and so you had come to terms with the fact sex would always be boring for you.
having him inbetween your legs, pleasuring you, all whilst he rutted into the bed himself, moaning between your legs as though he could feel the pleasure in your stomach - it was beyond anything you could conjure.
“fuck, you’re so tight. gotta loosen you up, baby, or you won’t be able to take my cock.” he hissed against you, curling his fingers inside.
you jolted again, legs restless as your thighs clamped around his head, all but suffocating him. not that he gave a fuck - he would happily die right here if given the chance.
“jungkook! i-i..” you could barely speak.
your hips bucked into his mouth after he sucked particularly harshly, causing a squeal to escape you before you pulled at his hair a little too roughly. he groaned loudly at the shot of pain, liking it more than he expected. the feeling of pain by your hands turned him on beyond belief.
he could feel you clenching, tightening around his fingers. could feel the pulsations straight to his cock which was practically weaping, begging for your attention but he needed to be patient. he was confessing his love to you against your sweet core, tasting you as if you were the only meal he’d ever be granted.
you realised very quickly that jeon jungkook was the definition of a fucking munch.
he was lost between your legs, hissing the dirtiest things you’d ever heard, about how you were made to take his tongue, how you needed to loosen up or else he’d have to fuck you open, something about how good it felt to be suffocated by your thighs. your brain was malfunctioning officially as you sunk deeper and deeper into the bed.
“close..” you managed to choke out, though he could hardly hear you, blood rushing to his head as he continued his actions, tongue laying flat to lap you up as much as possible.
you didn’t last much longer, his fingers curling into that spongy part inside of you that had you cumming, your back arching harshly, your hands pulling at his hair as you squealed loudly enough for the entire apartment complex to hear.
jungkook fucked you through it, large digits chasing the remnants of your high as he lapped up your slick, grunting about “how sweet you tasted when you cum.”
by the time your orgasm died down, jungkook had to be forcibly removed from between your thighs as you patted and pushed until he finally pulled back. his mouth was a mess, but it was his eyes that unnerved you - they looked entirely black, as though what he had just experienced was enough to take him to an early grave.
unfortunately for him, you hadn’t even had a chance to start.
your eyes fell to the large tent now in his sweats, the wet patch that had angrily formed. you could have cum again just from the sight of it, a measly sigh escaping you as you sat up on your elbows, hand darting out to message it firmly.
his jaw dropped lightly as you both kept eye contact, watching the way your hooded eyes only got drowsier and drowsier, falling into cockdrunk territory without even having it inside of you. it didn’t take long nor much before your positions were switched, with him now sat up, and you inbetween his legs, pulling down his sweats as though they were personally offending you.
you watched his cock spring up, slapping your cheek as it rested heavy on your face, a sight jungkook swore he could never forget even if he wanted to. his sweet girl.. to think he had once thought you were entirely innocent, and not at all privy to the perversion that plagued him so fully. if only he had known then that you too were a proud victim of it - he would have fucked you sooner.
he watched as your hands immediately took a hold of him, pumping up and down slowly, your eyes meeting his and refusing to look away.
“i won’t last.” he whispered down at you, to which you offered him a sly, coy smile. “just want a taste, kookie..you won’t deny me, right?”
fuck.
a girl like you needed your throat fucked.
instead of responding, he simply brushed your hair out of your face just as your tongue darted out, licking a large stripe up his tip. he was bigger than any guy you’d been with, and so much thicker, needing both hands just to wrap around him. you knew a cock like this would ruin you for life - no one would ever compare again, not when it was so pretty.
you watched as he shuddered, your tongue circulating his slit before tracing the vein down his cock, giggling lightly as you felt his hands in your hair tighten.
“don’t fucking tease.” he hissed at you, cheeks flushed red.
you obliged, though the cheeky smile on your lips, alongside your leaking cunt, proved you were up to no good.
you wrapped your mouth around his tip entirely, lips stretching wide as you began to bob your head immediately, pumping the rest of his cock that you couldn’t reach with both hands. he threw his head back in pleasure, grunting loudly as he returned to watch you.
neither of you could look away as you took more and more of him down your throat, until you began to gag too harshly, releasing him for a moment only to return to your actions. you could feel spit dribbling down the sides of your mouth, continuing to gag, continuing to pump, chasing more and more.
jungkook needed to stop you. he wanted his cum inside you only, knowing it would be such a waste if it sat inside of your stomach instead of your womb but fuck. you were a minx. just the way you bobbed your head so eagerly, as though this was all you’d ever wanted - how could he deny his sweet girl?
and so, with both hands on your head, jungkook began to push it down.
he watched you whimper, forced to take more of him down your throat, but he was uncaring, secretly loving the way you desperately scrambled to accommodate him. he began to thrust lightly, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you felt him use you in the exact way you would often daydream about.
he released you for a moment, watching you pull off of his cock with a choke, coughing for air for a few seconds. he pulled up your chin once it subsided, pulling you in close until your lips connected once more. you could both taste each an other on your tongues, a moan leaving you at the thought.
“can’t wait any longer, baby.” he huffed, grabbing one of his pillows and situating it under your head comfortably.
your heart sang as you watched him prioritise your comfort before grabbing another pillow, placing it directly under your hips, your pussy now elevated for him to fuck exactly the way he wanted. your legs were still shaking, your throat sore from the way it had just been toyed with and yet there was nothing more than you wanted than him.
“no condoms.” you immediately said, as he began inching towards you.
jungkook wanted to laugh. he had every fucking intention of cumming inside of you, you knew that. he knew that. you were the cutest thing he had ever seen, asserting your wants just the way he wanted you to - despite his selfless nature when it came to you, he was a man with needs. he wanted you round and plump.
“no condoms.” he repeated, watching the way your eyelashes fluttered up at him before he pressed another kiss to your lips, passionate.
your tongues lapped at one another, all whilst he began to rest his cock against your core, moving, pressing into you so you’d feel every inch of what was about to penetrate you. he loved the way you moaned into his mouth, allowing for him to swallow every noise as though it was his favourite song.
as he pulled away, a thin string of saliva connected you both, a lidded look on his features.
he sat up from his position, grabbing onto your legs once more, pulling you slightly closer before continuing to rub his cock against you, beginning to push the tip in.
your eyes widened, a gasp loudly tearing into the space once more as you felt him push, push, push. his cock was breaking you in real time as he inserted inch after inch.
you couldn’t breathe.
this was the last barrier separating you, the one, final thing to make your relationship whole and now he was fully inside of you. you could feel him deep, your breath caught as your arms wrapped around his neck, all whilst he pulled himself down so his own arms were at either side of your head.
he could see it was too much, could see it in the way your eyes kept opening and shutting, your chest rising and falling, your legs parting and closing. he wanted to have you like this always, so sweet - his angel girl. god, he’d give you the world now that you were his, all soaked and clenching on his cock like he knew you would be.
he began to thrust slowly, whilst you let out gasps, whines, hums of both pleasure and pain. for every ounce of ache, you felt thrill tenfold as he made you keep your eye contact, gaze locked entirely on him.
“feel that, baby?” he cooed gently, so loving, so sweet. “you can never get rid of me, now. not even if you try.”
in response, you clenched around him hard. he choked.
“you can’t leave me either.” you whimpered up at him, his forehead coming down to connect with your own. “not allowed.”
“leave you? i’d sooner die.” he hissed immediately, as though the notion drove him insane to think about. at that, you felt your bottom lip quiver slightly. “my weepy baby.”
at that, his thrusts finally began to quicken.
they picked up in pace and pressure, as his thrusts now landed harder. faster. meaner.
the sound of skin slapping against skin echoed off of the walls as your name was chanted on his breath, all whilst you clawed at his cheeks, neck and shoulders. he could feel the pain come in waves as the scratches you left on him began to bleed lightly, not that he gave a fuck - he wanted you to mark him in every single way.
by the time he was pounding into you, you were openly crying up at him.
you were so overwhelmed, tears pooling on either side of the pillow as you begged him not to stop, desperate to keep him inside of you for as long as he could, your hips coming up to meet his thrusts. it just felt so good, so whole, nothing had ever felt so right before.
was this a taste of heaven, jungkook thought, as he leaned down to kiss you through your blabbering, all whilst you tried to keep your sobs at bay. god, you were driving him insane. to know you were crying out of pleasure was akin to his wildest dreams, his eyes shutting tight to ward off any thoughts of cumming too soon.
“my girl, my girl, my girl.” he chanted down at you, heaving lightly. “fuck..don’t know what to do with you. need to give you the world but it’s not enough.”
“just want you. you’re my world.” you whimpered at him, all whilst clenching down hard causing him to hiss loudly.
your words were fucking him up. his head swarmed with flashing images of you knocked up, thick diamond on your left hand, cute little dress stretched over your stomach as he cooked for you. a house on a suburban street, with a nice garden and a white picket fence. fuck. he had to give you it all.
“open.” he growled down at you, to which you opened your mouth immediately.
he spat inside, watching the way you swallowed almost instantly, tongue lolling out of your mouth to show him.
“good fucking girl. my stupid baby doesn’t wanna think no more, huh? just needs me to tell her what to do.”
“mhm.” you confirmed, pussy throbbing at his condescending tone. “that's how i want you, all fucked out. need to get you pregnant soon, can’t have this pussy empty ever again.”
at that, you felt your eyes roll to the back of your skull as your legs began to shake. he knew you were close, but he wasn’t done with you yet.
you let out the loudest whine of the night, protesting as he slipped out of you, cock soaked from your juices as it slapped against his stomach. he laughed lightly at how bratty you sounded, the pout on your lips paired with the tears streaming down your face enough to drive any man fucking wild.
he pulled you up by your arms, almost harshly as he rested against the bed frame, pillow behind his back to support you both before pulling you into his lap. you felt his cock prod at your entrance before he all but pushed you down onto it, forcing you to take every inch once more.
the moan you let out would forever remain imprinted onto his memory as he watched your face squeeze in pleasure, feeling him so much deeper in this position. he pulled your legs on either side of him, so you were properly sat, all whilst he cradled you to him.
he began picking you up and dropping you, both of you hissing at the feel of you so much tighter this way, if that was ever possible. he was practically using you, with the way he was manhandling your body, your arms wrapped around his neck as you let him do whatever he wanted in the name of pleasure.
“don’t want t..this to stop..fuck, kookie.” you moaned, watching the way his skin bled lightly from your earlier attacks.
“won’t stop baby.” he let out a breathy exhale. “gonna do this to you every chance i can. fuck you, watch you when you’re not with me, gonna break in like i always do. hm, you want that? you want kookie to stalk you, still?”
“yes.” you sobbed at him, nodding desperately as you began matching his thrusts, it bordering on masochism with the way he was pounding into you. “please don’t stop.”
“sick fucking girl. makes you wet thinking about me stalking you, huh?” he hissed, fingers rubbing at your clit for you, to which you continued to nod. “that’s why we’re a match, baby. that fucked up part of your brain is just like mine, it makes my cock hard too.”
“don’t want anything to change.” you whimpered through a sob, watching the way his eyes rolled back. “don’t worry..fuck..just like that. gonna make sure you feel it this time, hm? make sure you see me everywhere.”
the pleasure, the thought, the promise. it was too much and not enough.
“promise, kookie? promise me.” you begged through your tears, watching as they streamed down your face, falling between you and straight onto where your bodies met, causing jungkook to fuck them back into you. “promise baby. gonna stalk you until you beg me to stop and even then, s’not your choice, huh?”
his words ripped you over the edge as your breathing stopped, cockdrunk and orgasming on his too fat cock. your body convulsed, his arms caging you in as he fucked into you, riding out your orgasm in a way that had your feet wrapping around him tightly.
jungkook watched your eyes shut tight before you squeaked from overstimulation, as he too chased his high, following you closely as he felt his orgasm wash over him. he grabbed onto your body, clutching you tight as he came and came and came and came.
he captured your lips with his own as he rode out his high, feeling you quiver with the way you milked him for every last drop. your mouths moved in unison, his tongue lapping at yours once more as you twitched around him, collapsing in his arms from exhaustion after.
you both panted, both unable to comprehend what had just happened, and yet neither of you made any effort to move. he pulled you closer, still inside, holding you tight, kissing every inch of your face, whispering sweet nothings.
“so good to me.” he whispered down at you right as you closed your eyes, exhausting taking a hold of you as it slowly seeped into your bloodstream.
—
the cafe off campus was home to you by now, and home to the relationship you had fostered with jungkook. this was where he had first seen you, where he had first tasted the sweet, familiar sensation of obsession.
now, he came here with you, hand in hand as he ordered your favourite drink and a cookie, all whilst you rested your head on his bicep as though you were finally comfortable. people around you would stare, half in confusion and other curiosity at the sight of the most popular girl on campus so smitten with her nerdy, know it all boyfriend who was known for his dry attitude. it seemed it was only you who he bothered with, and that confused everyone else even more.
what did you see in him, they wondered. was he rich? did he have a trust fund? sure he was attractive, with his large frame and tattoos, piercings glinting in the sun but you were on a whole other league. they simply couldn’t work it out.
such fools, you often thought, scoffing at the way they’d think. they had no idea what jungkook was to you, and what he represented. a physical manifestation of every deep, twisted desire in your darkened mind - wholly accepting, entirely loving. he was the love of your life, and you. oh, you were the very epitome of life itself for him.
he liked when you’d both sit in the corner, where he’d sit across from you, laughing quietly at whatever you’d tell him as though anything you said was intensely humorous. your cheeks would flush pink as he would take his time in complimenting you, from your hair to your outfit, all the way down to the cute ballet flats that adorned your feet.
“c’mon, finish your cookie.” he’d remind, voice soft despite his darkened demeanour, only for his gentle tone to drop whenever someone would ask him a question, or even look his way.
the only other person he was even remotely as nice to was his own personal circle, and of course, yejin, who you adored more than words. she’d often sit with you both, just so you could both talk and gossip as you’d often do, whilst jungkook merely sat and admired you.
sometimes he would tell you he couldn’t join you just to have an excuse to stalk you. the thought had your panties damp in a second, as you would peer from the corner of your eye, noticing a shadow, a cap and mask, all hidden away in the corners of the room. fuck.
now you were able to spot it, it made the game so much more thrilling.
you were at his home every chance you could get, or him at yours, but on the off chance you would fall asleep on your own, you’d be sure to find the most risqué underwear you could find, all so you could perch on your bed at an angle you knew he’d enjoy. from waking up in the middle of the night to touch yourself to openly addressing him, you took full advantage of his voyeuristic tendencies.
sometimes, you’d wake up to find him in bed next to you, bulge nestled right against where you needed him most, a reminder that he was able to break in when you least expected. of course, that also meant you were constantly undergoing a shortage of panties as he’d steal them.
that didn’t mean you had stopped, however, as you too felt your mind fall deeper into madness.
he had been paired with another girl for a physics project, to which they had shared contact information to divide tasks. innocent enough for most but it had you falling into a deep, dark jealousy, as you hacked into his phone with every chance you got, reading his messages, nibbling away at your lip despite knowing he knew what you were doing.
considering the messages so far consisted of “i’ve done section 2.” and “please do section 4 before monday.” you knew you had nothing to stress about, but you couldn’t reason with someone with a parasitic brain. even after the project was over, you found yourself looking through his phone almost excitedly, it bringing you a sense of entertainment and joy.
you’d leave little snippets of yourself there to remind him you were always watching him - ranging from little i love you’s in his note apps to full on nudes of your body in his photo album, to which he’d go feral for once he’d find them.
neither of you were healthy. neither of you were normal and yet you were happy beyond belief, living a life you were sure that no one else could have given you.
it wasn’t until yejin started hanging around with jungkook’s friends, all of you interacting, that you realised his tendencies were beginning to rub off on his own circle - his oldest friend, seokjin, staring deeply at her with a look of pure and unyielding devotion. she, of course, being a smart girl completely fed into it, making him her little boy toy almost immediately.
“nothing better than an obsessive man.” she had hummed to you with a wink, watching him scramble to go get her the drink she had asked for.
if only she knew how deeply you agreed with the sentiment.
“you’re sick.” you murmured at her with a coy grin, though there were no bite to your words.
yejin only grinned with a small giggle, leaning back into her chair as she crossed her legs, entirely unbothered. “hm, and you’re not?”
you didn’t answer. you didn’t need to when your grin gave you away.
the scrape of the chair beside you was familiar now, and expected, as jungkook hand found its usual place on the back of your neck, thumb pressing gently to ground the both of you to one another.
his drink sat down beside yours, your typical matcha cookie following.
this was routine at its finest.
“eat.” he simply muttered, a small kiss placed to your head before he slid into the seat next to you, as opposed to opposite you this time.
you leaned into him without thinking, breathing in his scent almost hungrily before lifting your drink to your lips, all the whilst curling into him instinctively. yejin’s eyes flickered between the two of you, a sense of candied understanding settling behind them before she let out a hum of amusement.
“i’m gonna go steal jin’s wallet. i wanna go shopping.” she hummed, already standing.
“it’s not stealing if he’d thank you for doing it.” you replied through a glance, causing her to tilt her head before nodding.
“exactly! he has to carry the bags too..”
she disappeared, walking over to the counter where he was collecting her drink, eyes already trained on her as she slid her hand into his back pocket, batting her eyelashes up at him. you watched his jaw slack, completely enamoured before nodding immediately, guiding her to the door without even bothering to spare anyone else a glance. the sight had you giggling.
you didn’t notice the shift beside you until it impacted you directly.
his hand moved from the back of your neck to your jaw, pushing it towards him gently so that you were facing him properly. his sweet girl, you looked so pretty today, he thought. what, with your hair all curled.
“you didn’t sleep.”
not a question, but rather an observation.
you blinked at him, a little dazed, before shaking your head slowly. “i did..”
this thumb pressed under your eye, amused by your lies. “no you didn’t.”
you huffed, your bratty nature to the surface now you were completely comfortable with him. “okay, fine. woke up early, that’s all.”
“what time?”
“…three.”
he watched you for a second longer than necessary, something ticking behind his eyes, before he leaned back slightly in his chair. he was observing you openly as he often did, with his attention on your gaze, momentarily dropping to your lips that he wanted nothing more than to defile, before returning up.
“next time call me, baby.”
you nibbled at your lips at his sweet response. “you were sleeping, didn’t wanna disturb you.”
“call me.” he responded again, firmer this time, as though he’d hear nothing else on the matter.
your stomach fluttered.
a beat of silence filled the air as he pulled you in close once more, pressing his lips to your forehead, looking down at the way you sipped on your drink, humming quietly about how yummy it tasted. he found you so endearing - loving how anytime he’d bring you here, you’d do the same thing, always making the cutest of noises whilst telling him he needed to try how good your drink was.
he reached for your cookie, breaking off a piece before holding it to your lips. you immediately opened up your mouth, taking a bite, cheekily swiping your tongue on his finger before innocently batting your lashes up at him.
you knew he’d get you back later.
you chewed slowly whilst he breathed in your scent, lips grazing against your neck, jaw, nose and head. it wasn’t until you had completely finished your cookie that he pulled back slowly.
“i’ve been thinking about us.” he confessed, softly.
that got your attention. you stilled slightly, as you peered up at his face, trying to determine what he meant.
“about what we’re doing after this.”
you stilled. not visibly, or in a way anyone with an untrained eye would notice, but in a way that only a man like jungkook could be well versed in. he watched you like a hawk.
“after what?” you asked almost shakily. he brushed your lip with his thumb. “after graduation, after everything.”
you watched him more carefully now.
“i’ve had multiple job offers now, different places…different cities.” he murmured gently down at you, only to watch the way your face fell slightly.
it was like he could see your heart straining.
“okay..” you whispered softly, unsure of what to say.
“we need to talk about where we’re going, baby. not taking anything until you decide where you want us to be.”
you blinked.
“what?”
“i’ll go wherever you wanna go. or you can come with me, i don’t really mind.”
your eyebrows knitted together. you weren’t confused, no - you were catching up. it was like a decision had been made for you, and you were finally privy to it.
“kookie..”
“i’m serious, y/n.” his voice remained the same tone, neither raising nor getting too excited. it was like this was fact. “i’m not building anything without you in it.”
your throat felt tight all of a sudden as you swallowed, your chest beating out of your chest at the casual sweetness he displayed for you and you alone. you felt so loved. always so, so loved.
“i don’t even know where i wanna work after this.” you confessed, voice small.
“that’s okay. we’ll figure it out.” he assured.
no pressure, no impatience. just a gentle assurance that whatever you picked, whenever you did, it would be done with him by your side.
“and if it’s somewhere shit?” you weakly asked, attempting some kind of humour despite your heart beating out of your chest.
he huffed out of amusement, easing your shoulders. “then it’ll be shit. doesn’t matter to me.”
you couldn’t stop staring at him, looking deeper and deeper into dark chocolate orbs where you could see nothing but yourself reflected both in and out. you tried to find the exaggeration, or the joke, but you came up short each time.
there wasn’t one.
“i’ll get us a good place. been saving for us.” he murmured almost absentmindedly. “somewhere big enough for you.”
your heart lurched hard.
“and then?” you asked, voice so soft it sat barely above a whisper.
the side of his lips quirked up.
“then, i marry you.”
he said it as though it was fact, as opposed to a wish for the future. you couldn’t breathe. you couldn’t breathe. you couldn’t breathe.
“..and..then?” you choked out, with large eyes.
he grinned, gentle, soft.
“then…no more birth control.” his voice melodic, soft, as though it wasn’t a warning to come. “then, we start our family together.”
jungkook’s hand slid under the table to intertwine with yours before he pulled it up to his lips, watching the way your eyes quickly filled with unshed tears ready to implode at any minute. he huffed out another breath of amusement at the sight of his girl, always so sweet and always so so teary.
the constant tug of war between you to get closer and closer all made sense in that moment.
jungkook wasn’t just your person, he was the only route home. he was everything and more, and you were his sole purpose.
you were both inevitable.
———
i love my creepy little stalkers so much, they’re such weird freaks
my silly babies, i loved writing this one, sorry it was so long omg, 25k words is crazy even for me but i hope you guys enjoy and love it so much!!
if you enjoyed this fic and want to support me in paying my ugly london rent, i have my kofi here ❤️
No titles, no descriptions, and absolutely no strings attached, that were the invisible rules of their secret bond. But a month-long tour changes everything, transforming a routine hookup into a heavy, agonizing attachment. Stranded in the silence of unknown feelings, the physical distance forces them to think about what they’ve actually become.
"N-no," you stammered, feeling his hands pinch your nipples hard. Your body arched instinctively as Jungkook rubbed his hard cock against your thigh.
"Jungkook..." A small moan escaped your mouth.
He captured your lips in a messy, urgent kiss, his tongue diving into your mouth and tasting the sweetness of the chocolate you both had just shared. He kissed you with a fierce passion, as if he had no time left, no time to waste when it came to you.
"J-Jungkook..."
He pressed his hardness right against the center of your pussy, letting himself friction against your warmth.
"See how hard I get for you?" he whispered against your jaw. His lips trailed down to your collarbones and then to your neck, a spot he loved to mark every single time.
His tongue met your heated skin, the slick warmth of his mouth licking and sucking a deep bruise into your flesh before he softened the ache with a kiss.
Jungkook pushed himself up onto his elbows, his dark eyes burning with an intense, unwavering focus as he looked deep into yours. "I missed you," he murmured against your skin.
Without waiting for a response, he claimed your lips again. His fingers tangled into your hair, pulling just firmly enough to tilt your head back and give him deep, effortless access to your mouth. A surprised gasp escaped you when his teeth sharply nipped at your bottom lip, the slight tug on your scalp only heightening the sudden rush of heat between you.
With your eyes closed and your senses overwhelmed, your hand instinctively crawled down his torso. Your fingers found the rigid length of his cock through his pants, squeezing him firmly.
A ragged, broken groan tore from his throat. He opened his eyes, heavy with pure desire, his gaze dropping to your swollen lips, slick with his saliva.
"Look at you..." he breathed, his voice a low tremble. He pressed his thumb against your bottom lip, pulling it down slightly before leaning in to trail burning kisses along your jawline.
As he spoke, he ground his hips forward into your hand. The friction of his cock moving against your palm made him let out a loud, breathless groan, the desperate reaction of a man who hadn't touched you in a long, agonizing month.
Jungkook let out a low, ragged moan the moment your lips pressed against his jaw, tracing a path down his throat until you captured his nipple. You knew exactly how sensitive he was there, and the sharp intake of his breath confirmed it. Shifting your weight, you changed positions, straddling his lap until you were completely on top of him.
"Gosh, you're so sexy," he growled, his large hands immediately wrapping around your waist before sliding down to squeeze your ass firmly, anchoring you against him.
You leaned down, your lips lightly grazing the hard, defined muscles of his chest. He had gotten bigger while away, more muscular, broader, and noticeably stronger.
The truth was, you had missed him terribly. He had been away on tour for a solid month, and you had craved him a lot more than you would ever care to admit out loud. Officially, you and Jungkook were nothing. You weren't boyfriend and girlfriend, and you weren't even in a defined situationship. You simply met up two or three times a month to hang out, drink, and eventually have sex—the absolute best sex either of you had ever experienced. Staying away from him and waiting while he was on the road had been incredibly hard, but you had waited anyway, counting down the days until he finally came back to you.
A loud gasp tore from his throat when your lips pressed directly against his navel. You licked across the warm expanse of his lower stomach before hooking your fingers into the waistband of his boxers and pulling them down, letting his thick, rigid cock spring completely free.
Your mouth watered just looking at him. A small bead of precum glistened at the very tip, leaking out slowly. As if reacting to the intense, unwavering weight of your stare, his cock twitched heavily in your hand.
"Suck it..." he whispered, his voice thick with need as he lifted his hips just a fraction, practically begging for your mouth.
You loved the power of it, knowing that this man, revered by millions and wanted by countless others, was completely coming undone just for you. With both hands, you tightly gripped the thick length of his cock, leaning down to press a soft, deliberate kiss right to the very tip.
Jungkook’s eyes fluttered shut at the familiar, agonizingly sweet touch of your lips. His fingers instantly tangled back into your hair, a low groan vibrating in his chest. "No teasing," he warned, his voice thick and rough.
A quiet chuckle escaped you against his skin. Defying him, you slowly slid your tongue all the way down the rigid veins of his hard dick. The reaction was instant; his hips jerked upward, seeking more.
Locking your eyes with his, you hollowed your cheeks and took his entire length deep into your mouth, deliberately bobbing your head in a slow, agonizing rhythm just to push his limits.
Jungkook endured the torture for only a few moments before his control shattered completely. Gripping your hair with a firm, unyielding hold, he abruptly pulled your mouth away and dragged you upward. Before you could catch your breath, he pinned you flat on your back and crawled over you, his knees settling heavily on either side of your face.
"Enough games," he growled.
His large hand wrapped around your throat, just tight enough to make your head swim with a rush of heat, but light enough to let you breathe. Driven by the sheer intensity of the moment, you parted your lips and parted your tongue out greedily for him.
Jungkook leaned down, his eyes dark as he dragged his tongue in a long, wet stripe against yours, tasting the slick mix of his own precum and your shared heat.
You let out a whiny moan at the action. He was dirty, unapologetically filthy in bed and you loved every single bit of it.
"Let me use this mouth, hm?" he murmured, fisting his cock and slapping the head of it against your parted lips. Your tongue darted out instinctively, licking the slick tip the moment it made contact with your skin.
"Please..." you begged, your voice thick and desperate.
"Want my cock? You want it to fuck your mouth?" He chuckled darkly, slowly pushing himself past your lips, but before you could actually suck him, he cruelly pulled back.
Your eyes widened when, without a single second of warning, he suddenly pushed deep inside again. Tears welled in your eyes as he pulled back and thrust right back in, establishing a relentless, bruising rhythm. You made heavy, involuntary gagging sounds, a wet noise that made his cock twitch violently inside your throat. He absolutely loved it when you gagged for him.
"Take it..." he growled, pushing his entire length deep down, holding it there for a agonizing second before sliding back out.
Once you regained a fraction of your composure, you swirled your tongue against his rigid length each time he deep-throated you. His breath was entirely uneven, his large hands mercilessly fisted into your hair to control the pace.
The room fell silent except for the wet sounds of your gagging and his low, ragged groans. You hollowed your cheeks and actively moved your head to meet his deep, punishing thrusts until he was right on the edge.
To your immediate disappointment, he suddenly pulled out completely. Your lips were swollen and tingling, your chest heaving violently up and down as you fought to catch your breath. Before you could even blink, Jungkook gripped the center of your bra, tearing it out of the way to expose your bare skin, and released his cum all over your boobs.
His head threw back in pure pleasure, a low grunt escaping him as he absentmindedly patted your head. You watched the thick, white cum spill across your chest. It was incredibly hot. Your mouth opened greedily on instinct; a part of you wished he had released all of it right down your throat.
Your chest was still heaving up and down, coated in his warmth. He looked down at the mess he made and smirked.
"Want a taste? Look at you..." He pinched your cheeks firmly, tilting your face up. "Panting like a puppy for my taste. You're so fucking needy."
He swiped a finger through the cum on your boobs and deliberately smeared it across your cheeks, tracing down near your jaw and right at the corner of your lips. Your tongue immediately darted out to taste him.
A sharp moan escaped you the moment the familiar, musky, and salty flavor hit your tongue, the exact taste you had craved for a month.
"Like the taste of me? Does it turn you on?" he whispered, his eyes dark with satisfaction.
He took another heavy swipe of cum from your chest and used his knees to roughly force your legs wide apart. Your back arched off the mattress instantly, desperate and waiting for whatever dirty thing he was going to do next.
"K-Kook," you moaned in sheer need, wanting him everywhere at once.
"Patient," he commanded softly.
He pinned your hips flat to the bed with one hand, using the other to part your swollen folds. "How wet..." He clicked his tongue in approval and spread the slick warmth of his cum directly over your pulsing clit. The sudden contrast of his touch made your entire body jerk. Overwhelmed with pleasure, you moaned his name like an absolute addict, lifting your hips and pressing your aching center right toward his face.
He hummed in deep satisfaction as the heavy scent of your arousal hit him. "So fucking delicious. I can smell how bad you want it."
Without taking his eyes off you, he leaned down and spat directly on your folds and delivered a long, slow, soaking lick directly up your parted folds.
Your body jerked violently at the sudden sensation of his tongue, a sharp, delighted moan tearing from your throat. Jungkook didn't stop, continuing to press his nose against your clit, breathing in the deep, heavy scent of your arousal.
"Fuck..." he rasped against your folds, his voice incredibly deep before he captured your clit between his lips. A violent shiver ran down your spine as you felt his mouth move perfectly, expertly against you.
While his tongue worked over your clit, he pressed his middle finger against your soaking wet entrance, slowly drawing torturous circles. Your hands flew to his hair, your fingers gripping the dark strands tightly. "So good, baby... it feels so good," you moaned loudly, your voice echoing in the quiet room. "Take it all..." you whined as he continued to tease your opening.
"All mine," he whispered against your skin before sucking one of your sensitive folds right into his mouth. Your eyes watered, your lips parted as helpless moans spilled out one after another. "So good, so tasty. I was dreaming about this pussy the entire month on tour." Every time he spoke, the vibration of his voice against your center made your clit throb relentlessly for more.
Without a single second of warning, he suddenly pushed two fingers deep inside you, hard and fast, exactly the way he knew you liked it. He hooked his fingers inward, instantly finding and rubbing against your G-spot. Your body arched completely off the bed at the overwhelming wave of pleasure, your hands clenching tightly in his hair. "Kook! Ah... right there... like that!"
The pleasure was completely intoxicating. His tongue moved faster and faster against your clit while his fingers pumped ruthlessly in and out of your hole.
Hearing your loud, desperate moans only made his dick ache with a hardness that felt almost painful. Your eyes rolled back as a tight knot coiled in your abdomen, tension building rapidly until you finally broke, releasing a heavy wave of your juices right onto his tongue.
Jungkook kept his mouth wide open, shamelessly waiting to lick you entirely clean. He watched your fluids leak out, a dark smirk plastering across his face as he took in the sight of your body squirming beneath him. He didn't give you a moment to recover, continuing to finger you deeply even as you came. "So fucking delicious," he growled, lapping at your juices until your thighs began to tremble uncontrollably.
"Jungkook! Stop..." you begged, your entire body shuddering with a mix of exhaustion and overstimulation as he kept up the rhythm.
His hand moved in and out with practiced, skillful ease. Defying your plea, he slid a third finger inside you, his eyes locking onto your face to watch you unravel. He watched your chest heave up and down, your heavy boobs coated in his dried cum, as you cried out his name.
The moment your second orgasm hit, your entire body became blindingly sensitive.
"No..." you mumbled weakly when he leaned down, ready to lick you again.
"Too sensitive?" he teased, his voice dropping to a low purr. He deliberately flicked your clit, rubbing it with a heavy pressure. "Can't take it?"
"No!" you gasped, trying to squirm away as he rubbed your overstimulated clit at a brutal, delicious pace.
You struggled to move away, whimpering against the overwhelming sensation. "No... too much... I can't," you pleaded, your voice breaking. Hearing your desperate words, he gave your clit one last, slow suck before finally pulling back with a dark, satisfied smile.
"Too much? Your thighs are trembling uncontrollably," he noted, leaning up to press a soft, affectionate kiss to your forehead.
His eyes roamed shamelessly over your body, taking in the sight of his cum painted across your chest, your cheeks, and your lips. He smirked, a wicked glint in his eyes. "I should seriously take a picture of this."
"I will kill you," you breathed, letting out a weak laugh as you pushed him away with what little strength you had left.
He chuckled softly and stepped out of bed. Walking over to the bathroom, he returned with a warm, wet cloth. Slowly and meticulously, he began to wipe your breasts clean, moving up to gently tend to your cheeks and your jawline. He was incredibly gentle now, and you loved this side of him—the way he always took care of you so tenderly during the aftercare.
Once you were cleaned up, he slid back into bed and cuddled close next to you, his strong arms wrapping securely around your waist. "No one makes me come quite like you do," he whispered against your cheek, his breath warm.
You hummed softly, a small smile returning to your lips. "I love it when you're dirty. All needy and desperate for me," you teased gently.
He smiled, clinging even closer to you. He was never usually this clingy after sex, and this sudden, vulnerable side of him made a quiet giggle escape your throat. He pressed his face right into the softness of your chest, letting out a deep sigh. "My body just reacts like this to you. Only you. I swear, I couldn't come half as hard when I fucked some random girl on tour."
The smile instantly froze on your face, your heart dropping heavily into your stomach. Your expression flattened. He fucked someone else?
"Oh," you managed to utter, your voice tight. You didn't know what else to say. Honestly, you didn't even know if you had the right to feel the fierce spike of jealousy currently tearing through you. You and Jungkook had no titles.
Jungkook despised titles. He was a wildly famous man, constantly consumed by world tours, music video shoots, and packed schedules. From the very beginning, he had made it crystal clear that he had no time or desire for a committed relationship. What was supposed to be a one-time hookup had simply turned into a routine for the both of you. Over time, you had foolishly grown attached to the idea of him being yours. But who wouldn't? He was handsome, caring, incredible in bed, sexy, talented, and unimaginably rich. Thinking that he actually wanted you exclusively, though, had been your mistake.
Of course you were just another girl he was seeing. Another girl he was flirting with and fucking whenever he felt like it. Nothing more.
"It was right after the Goyang concert, when we flew to Japan," Jungkook continued blindly, entirely unaware of the shift in the room. "Honestly, I was totally wasted, and she was one of our tour—"
"I see," you interrupted him sharply, unable to bear hearing another single detail. "I think I should go. I just remembered I have some important chores to take care of. I didn't realize how late it was." You abruptly sat up, reaching blindly for your discarded bra.
Jungkook pouted, looking up at you with genuinely confused, wide eyes. "So fast? But we haven't even actually fucked yet—"
"I'm busy. Next time," you replied instantly, your throat tightening as you forced yourself to move. You felt like an absolute idiot for harboring real, deep feelings for him.
You deliberately turned your face away, blinking rapidly to force back the tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. "I'll see you later."
Pulling on your pants and slipping your top over your head, you forced a small, entirely hollow smile onto your face. Without waiting for him to reply, you turned on your heel and walked straight out of the apartment.
To him, it was just a normal hookup. Obviously. You weren't special.
°
After a few weeks, you were invited to dinner by the boys. They were leaving for their Europe tour soon and wanted to have a final meal with those closest to them. You were good friends with Seokjin and Hoseok as well, so you gladly accepted.
You knew you would have to face Jungkook there, but you convinced yourself it was fine. If he was okay with treating you like an option, then you were too. From now on, he was just going to be another casual hookup to you, nothing more.
"Oh! Finally!" Hoseok chimed the moment you walked in. No one else knew about you and Jungkook; it was a closely guarded secret, even from the rest of the members. "I missed you, girl!" Hoseok hugged you tightly.
You chuckled and hugged him back. "I missed you too!"
After greeting the other boys and their friends, you settled into a seat between Seokjin and Taehyung. Jungkook waved at you from across the table, his eyes heavy as he clearly noticed how distant you were being.
Over the past few weeks, he had texted you constantly, but your replies were always short, detached, and sent hours later. He had practically begged to spend one last night with you before he left for Europe, but you had coldly declined, claiming you were sick even though you looked perfectly fine and healthy tonight.
By the third round of drinks, you were laughing and playfully flirting with Taehyung, who was obviously very interested in you.
Across the table, Jungkook’s chest twisted with a violent jealousy he had never experienced before. He knew he was growing dangerously attached to you, it had made him sick with longing. He had been sick enough to moan your name while trying to sleep with that girl in Japan, a mistake that ended with her storming out and cursing him in frustration.
He wanted to ask you out, or at least tell you that he wanted to take things to a real stage, but he didn't know how you felt about him. You never showed it.
Now, his eyes burned holes straight through Taehyung. Taehyung was sitting entirely too close to you, his hand resting casually on your thigh as you laughed at whatever he was saying.
After a while, you excused yourself to the restroom to wash your face and redo your makeup, feeling slightly tipsy.
Just as you were about to close the bathroom door, a foot stepped in to stop it. You looked up in confusion, only to see Jungkook. "What...?"
"Enough ignoring me." He pushed his way inside the bathroom and shut the door firmly behind him.
"Ignoring you? What are you talking about?" you replied with a scoff. If he hated seeing you flirt with Taehyung, you were going to use that to your advantage. You had definitely noticed his eyes earlier, glaring daggers at his own bandmate.
"Y/n... let's go home. I need to talk to you about something," he whispered, his large hands reaching out to grip your waist.
You immediately spun around, deliberately letting his hands drop into empty air. "I'm leaving with Taehyung tonight. He said he has something to show me."
"With him?" Jungkook asked in utter disbelief. "He's my friend..."
"So what? Can't I sleep with your friends?" You pulled out your lipstick, applying it to your lips while watching his reflection in the mirror. His jaw clenched tightly as he stared back at you.
"What about us?"
Oh. Now he remembers 'us'? You internally scoffed.
"Us? There is no us," you said, shrugging your shoulders carelessly. "Weren't we just fuck buddies? Just passing the time with each other?" your tone was ice-cold.
"Passing the time? Are you serious?" He let out a harsh chuckle of disbelief.
"What? You can fuck around with whoever you want, but I can't?" you snapped in a clipped tone.
A harsh chuckle broke from Jungkook’s lips, a sound laced with pure, unadulterated disbelief. He pointed a finger at his own chest, taking a heavy step closer to you until the small space of the bathroom felt entirely suffocating.
"Me? Fucking around?" his voice dropped to a rough, jagged whisper, his jaw clenched so tightly the muscles in his cheek ticked. "Is that what you think I’ve been doing?"
"Am I wrong?" You didn't back down. You kept your gaze locked onto his reflection in the mirror, carefully capping your lipstick with hands that were only trembling slightly from the sheer tension vibrating between you. "You said it yourself, Jungkook. Right after Japan. You had no problem sharing the details of your tour fun while we were in bed together."
Jungkook closed his eyes for a brief second, letting out a sharp, frustrated breath as the pieces finally clicked in his head. The sudden distance, the cold, hours-late texts, the sudden 'sickness' right before he was supposed to leave—it all made sense.
"You—" He cut himself off, running a stressed hand through his dark hair, pulling at the strands. When he opened his eyes again, the burning jealousy from earlier was completely swallowed by a desperate, raw vulnerability. "Y/n, I was drunk. I was stupid, and I was completely miserable because all I could think about was you."
You let out a hollow, bitter laugh, finally turning around to face him fully. "Oh, please. Don't rewrite history to make yourself feel better. We had a deal. No titles, no strings. You can do whatever you want, and so can I. So if Taehyung wants to take me home tonight, it's none of your business."
The mention of Taehyung's name made Jungkook snap. In one swift, unyielding motion, he closed the remaining distance between you. His hands shot out, gripping your waist firmly and pinning your lower back against the edge of the marble sink. He leaned down, his face inches from yours, his dark eyes ablaze with an intensity that made your breath catch in your throat.
"Don't you dare say his name to me right now," Jungkook growled, his chest heaving against yours. "You want the truth? You want to know what happened in Japan? I was a total wreck because a whole month without you was driving me insane. I got wasted, I tried to replace you with some random girl, and do you know what happened? I couldn't even finish because I called out your name. She cursed me out and walked out the door."
He leaned in even closer, his forehead resting against yours, his grip on your waist tightening until it almost hurt.
"There is no anyone else, Y/n. It's only ever been you," he whispered, his voice cracking with a desperation you had never heard from him before. "I didn't know how to tell you. I thought you just saw me as a casual hookup. I thought if I asked for more, I’d scare you away. But seeing you out there with him... laughing with him... it's killing me. Please. Tell me you don't actually mean what you just said.”
You sighed deeply, looking up at him with tired eyes. "Are you done?" you asked quietly, placing your hands against his chest to push him back slightly. "We are nothing, Jungkook. It was stupid of me to ever assume I meant something to the world-famous Jeon Jungkook. You’re a global star. Girls swoon over you. Thousands of women want to be with you." You forced your voice to stay steady, swallowing the lump in your throat to make sure you didn't cry in front of him. "Being with you would only make me insecure every single time you're away."
"You need to trust me—" he started, his voice desperate as he tried to grab your hands.
"I can't, and I won't," you interrupted, shaking your head. "Let's not try to force titles on each other now. It's messy with you... it always has been." You shrugged, trying to act like it didn't matter. "Fucking around is best, and honestly? I'm done with you."
You poked his chest firmly with your index finger, turned on your heel, and walked straight out of the bathroom. The moment you stepped away, your heart felt like it was breaking into a million tiny pieces. You bypassed the table entirely, walking straight toward the exit of the restaurant.
Tears threatened to spill over because, deep down, the crushing realization hit you that you would never feel like enough for someone like him. Your thoughts collided in a chaotic blur, and the tears finally streamed down your face the moment you burst out into the cool night air.
"Fucking asshole!" you cursed out loud into the empty street, your voice cracking. "He didn't even come after me!"
Overwhelmed by the alcohol and the suffocating heartbreak, your knees gave out. You collapsed onto the curb, burying your face in your thighs as heavy, unrestrained sobs wracked your entire body. You felt entirely broken.
"Are you okay?"
A quiet, low, and slightly grumpy voice cut through the quiet of the street. You gasped, quickly wiping at your wet cheeks as you looked up.
Yoongi was leaning casually against the side of a sleek black car a few yards away, taking a slow, steady drag from a cigarette. The amber tip glowed faintly in the dim streetlights as he exhaled a cloud of smoke, his sharp eyes fixed on you.
You stared back at him, your chest heaving, and helplessly shook your head as another broken sob escaped your lips.
Next part
A/n : Hmmm? what was this? I don't know. Want me to write the second part? Or leave it here?
→ SUMMARY : You were a journalist at Yonsei University when you started noticing the strange coincidences between your favorite bumbling freshman and Seoul's newest superhero. The way Spider-Man's voice cracks on 'noona' exactly like Jungkook's does. The way they both bring you the same snacks, have the same nervous energy, the same tendency to ramble when flustered. You tell yourself it's just a coincidence, because the alternative means admitting something you're absolutely not ready to deal with.
→ TAGS : second person perspective used, female pronouns used, college au, spider-man au, noona kink, slight age gap (he’s 21, she’s 24ish), dry humping, virgin jungkook, first time, inexperienced jk, creaming his pants, sexual content, explicit content, library smut, clothed getting off, breast play, grinding, praise kink, crying during sex, crying after sex, embarrassment kink, humiliation kink, slight dom reader x sub jungkook, size difference, pining, jungkook has a big fat crush on you, secret identity, touch starved, protective jungkook, closet sexual activities, desperate jungkook, gentle domming, aftercare, emotional intimacy, fluff and smut, Korean setting, university setting.
→ PLAYLIST: set the vibes.
→ MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQUEST | WORDCOUNT: 11.8k
→ A/N: Hi everyone! Welcome to my first attempt at a Spidey!JK AU, where he somehow manages to be an even bigger mess than Peter Parker 😭. This story is very close to my heart because it dives into the dynamic between a confident noona and her adorably flustered freshman—who just so happens to be Seoul’s clumsy new superhero. To be honest, this Spiderkook oneshot was heavily inspired by Tangie, aka @rpwprpwprpwprw (love you bb!!!). I’d been lowkey daydreaming about Spiderkook for ages but thought, “Nah, that’s too silly.” Then I discovered there’s an entire community sharing the same brain cell as me??? Like, you’re welcome for my service, I guess?? Originally, this was supposed to be a short, smutty 5k romp. But do you think I can write smut without plot? I CAN’T. IT’S A MEDICAL CONDITION. Now it’s a 12k beast with feelings, webs, and chaos. Sorry (but not really). If you enjoy this, I might turn it into a mini-series because, let’s be honest, spider powers in… certain scenarios… sound very intriguing. Hihihi. Hope you enjoy this mess I’ve unleashed on the world! 🕸️
Edit: also, yeah. Tae is older than Jimin and Jungkook here because my sleep deprived brain slapped a ‘hyung’ on Jimin’s mouth and I’m not editing again. (≖͞_≖̥)
The thing about Spider-Man is that he reminds you too much of a certain freshman.
A freshman named Jeon Jungkook who keeps hovering around the journalism building with his messy hair and his wide eyes and his endless supply of convenience store snacks.
You've been telling yourself it's just a coincidence. The way Spider-Man's voice cracks on 'noona' exactly like Jungkook's does. The way they both bring you the same snacks, have the same nervous energy, the same tendency to ramble when they're flustered. It's just a coincidence, because the alternative means admitting something you're absolutely not ready to deal with.
Maybe that's why you're hiding in August Coffee, your usual spot tucked away in one of Sinchon's winding side streets.
The late autumn breeze carries the scent of roasted coffee beans through the open window, and your laptop screen glows with half-finished articles and interview transcripts. Your notebook lies open beside a rapidly cooling americano while the café's jazz playlist provides a gentle backdrop to your furious typing. You're on a deadline for tomorrow's paper, and the last thing you need is—
A flash of red and blue swings past the window.
You pretend not to notice. Maybe if you focus hard enough on your screen, he'll take the hint and—
"Noona!"
—of course he doesn't.
There he is, hanging upside down outside the second-floor window, the eyes of his mask wide and eager. A plastic convenience store bag dangles from his hand, swaying in the autumn wind. Several patrons are already pulling out their phones, and you can feel your carefully cultivated productivity slipping away.
"No," you say firmly, not looking up from your laptop.
"But noona—" His voice cracks on the honorific, and you absolutely refuse to find it endearing. "I haven't even said anything yet!"
"I'm working." You take a pointed sip of your americano, grimacing when you realize it's gone cold. Perfect. "Some of us have actual responsibilities, Spider-Boy."
"I brought you snacks!" He awkwardly maneuvers through the window—you're not sure if the owner keeps it open for him specifically or if he's just that persistent. "You know, the ones you like with the matcha filling? The new ones from that fancy Japanese brand?"
You pause, fingers hovering over your keyboard. "How do you know I like the ones with matcha filling?"
"Uh—" Even through the mask, you can tell he's flustered. His hands fidget with the plastic bag. "Lucky guess? Not that I know you, noona. Uh, I mean, you look like a noona. Not that I know for a fact you're a noona—"
"Stop talking." You pinch the bridge of your nose, painfully aware of the phones still recording this interaction. This will definitely end up on some university Instagram page later. Again. "You're making it worse."
He deflates slightly, shoulders hunching in that familiar way that reminds you too much of a certain someone who keeps "accidentally" running into you at the journalism building. The same one who somehow always knows your coffee order and brings you snacks you oh so casually mention fancying—
No. You're not going there. You're not connecting those dots, because connecting those dots leads to complications you absolutely don't need in your final year.
"I can leave if you want," he offers, but he's already approaching, placing the snacks on your table with careful precision. "But you've been here for four hours, and you always forget to eat when you're working on a big story."
You stare at him. "How do you know how long I've been here?"
"I, uh—" His mask's eyes widen comically. "Spider-sense?"
"That's not how spider-sense works."
"You don't know how my spider-sense works! Maybe it's... hungry-noona-sense?"
A laugh escapes before you can stop it, and you quickly cover it with a cough. "That's the worst excuse you've come up with yet."
"Yet!" He perks up. "So you're keeping track?"
"Go away." You open the snack bag anyway, pretending not to notice how he straightens up eagerly when you do. "Don't you have a city to protect or something?"
"Seoul can handle itself for ten minutes while I make sure my favorite n—while I make sure hardworking journalists eat properly."
You raise an eyebrow at the slip, and he fidgets under your gaze. "Your favorite what?"
"Nothing! No one! Just, you know, doing my friendly neighborhood Spider-Man duties. Very friendly. Very neighborly. Nothing specific or personal about it at all."
You bite into one of the matcha-filled snacks—they're fresh, which means he must have bought them recently. Specifically for you. Just like how a certain freshman keeps bringing you fresh triangle kimbap from the convenience store near your morning lecture hall...
No. Stop it. You're not doing this.
"Sit down," you sigh, pushing the chair across from you out with your foot. "And stay quiet, or I’ll kick you out."
He practically collapses into the chair, bag already placed on the table. You notice his hands shaking slightly, and something in your chest tightens.
You shouldn't find it endearing. You really, really shouldn't.
But then again, you probably shouldn't find anything about this situation endearing — a masked vigilante bringing you sweets in the middle of your favorite cafe, stammering through excuses that sound exactly like the ones Jungkook uses when you catch him "accidentally" walking the same way as you after class.
You really need to stop noticing these things.
You try to refocus on your notes after that, but it's hard—mostly because Spider-Man is still sitting there. Quietly. Staring.
And not in a "just glancing around the cafe" kind of way, either. No, he's full-on watching you, eyes darting between the scribbles in your notebook, the crumbs on your plate, and, worst of all, your face. Like you're the most fascinating thing in the world. Like he's never seen someone drink a mediocre americano and type furiously into Google Docs before.
It goes on for five minutes. Five full, agonizing minutes of silence, punctuated only by the occasional click of your keyboard and the muted sounds of espresso machines in the background.
Finally, you sigh, your fingers pausing mid-typing. "Don't you have better stuff to do?"
"No." The response is immediate. Too immediate. His tone is absurdly casual, like the very idea that Spider-Man—the literal defender of Seoul—could have anything more important than sitting in August Coffee and bothering you is completely ridiculous.
You raise a brow, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. "No supervillains to fight? No cats stuck in trees? Nothing?"
"Nope," he says, popping the 'p' for emphasis. "Pretty quiet day."
You shake your head and turn your attention back to your laptop. "Must be nice."
There's a pause. You can feel him shifting in his seat, the chair creaking slightly under his weight, and when he speaks again, his voice is just shy of hesitant.
"How are the pastries? Do you like them?"
Your fingers freeze over your keyboard. Slowly, you turn to face him again, narrowing your eyes.
"You didn't spit in them, did you?"
"Wha—no!" he sputters, his whole posture stiffening in obvious horror. "Why—why would I—noona, I would never spit in your pastries!"
You let him sweat for a second longer, just to amuse yourself, before breaking into a small, satisfied smirk.
"Relax, Spider-Boy. I'm kidding." You reach for the bag of snacks he brought. "Yeah, they're good. Wanna try?"
His eyes widen a little—well, as much as they can through that mask—and he seems to hesitate, like he's not sure if you're serious or trying to bait him again. You wave one of the pastries in his direction. He glances at it, then back at you, before finally nodding.
"Okay. Yeah, sure."
You watch as he carefully rolls his mask up just to his nose, revealing his mouth for the first time. You don't know what you expected, but… it's a good mouth. Maybe annoyingly good, given how little you want to admit that very obvious fact to yourself. Full lips, slightly pink, with just the faintest hint of nervousness as he bites at his bottom lip before leaning forward.
He takes a bite of the pastry you're holding out to him, and the pleased groan he lets out immediately makes you regret offering him anything at all.
"God, that's delicious," he mumbles around his mouthful, crumbs falling onto his suit. He barely finishes chewing before continuing. "Now I know why you like them so much. I mean—why people say they're so good. Not you specifically. Just, you know, people."
You snort, shaking your head as you turn back to your laptop. "You're a terrible liar."
"And you're a terrible bossy noona," he mutters, mostly to himself, stuffing the rest of the pastry into his mouth before leaning back in his chair.
You're about to toss another sarcastic remark his way when something catches your eye. Or, more specifically, half of something. A small smudge of green—matcha filling, you realize—lingering on the corner of his mouth.
It's instinctive, the way your hand moves—completely unthinking, like muscle memory kicking in before your brain has a chance to catch up. One moment, you're perfectly stationary in your seat; the next, your thumb is brushing against his lip, swiping the smudge away with a gentle, practiced motion.
He startles at the touch, his whole body jerking slightly as his eyes snap to yours. And then, just like that, reality crashes back in.
Your hand freezes midair.
His mouth parts for half a second, like he's about to say something, but then his tongue darts out—slow, deliberate—to lick the exact spot your thumb had just brushed.
You snatch your hand back like you've been burned, your face heating despite yourself.
The silence that follows is awful. Deafening. Inescapable.
He shifts in his chair, his eyes flickering to the table, then back to you, then down again. He clears his throat—once, then twice—before adjusting the edge of his suit with what you can only describe as frantic energy.
"So… uh…" His voice is tight. Way tighter than usual, cracking slightly on the first syllable. "Thanks for that. The, uh. The whole… lip thing. That was. Uh. Cool."
You blink at him, deadpan. "Cool?"
"Yeah. Cool. Totally normal and cool. Happens all the time. Super casual."
If you weren't so flustered yourself, you'd have laughed at the way he's fidgeting in his seat, his hands gripping his thighs under the table like he's trying not to explode.
"Right," you say slowly, leaning back in your chair. "Casual."
"Exactly."
He nods a little too enthusiastically, and you notice his knees bumping against each other under the table before he quickly crosses his legs. His hands drop to his lap almost immediately after, like he's trying to adjust the spandex near his thighs.
Your gaze is momentarily drawn there before—
"Anyway!" The word comes out nearly an octave higher than it should. He's already standing—or, more accurately, bolting to his feet—his hands still awkwardly hovering in front of him. "I should, uh, get going! Supervillains don't wait, you know? Gotta, uh… save the people of Seoul. Yeah. Big hero stuff."
You stare at him, unblinking, as he starts inching toward the door. "Uh-huh."
"Thanks for the pastries, noona! Great talk, as always!" He clears his throat again, audibly struggling to keep his voice steady. "Okay! Bye!"
And then he's gone, practically sprinting out of the cafe before he can embarrass himself any further.
You sit there for a long moment, still frozen, your brain catching up to what just happened. Then, slowly, you reach for another pastry.
Whatever just happened? Definitely not your problem.
"I'm such a fucking idiot."
Jungkook's voice is muffled by his hands, currently covering his face in what can only be described as unrelenting shame. He's lying on Jimin's couch, legs splayed out haphazardly, the picture of a man defeated by his own existence.
Across the room, Jimin raises an eyebrow, lazily popping another chip into his mouth. The bag crinkles loudly, much to Jungkook's dismay. "It's not that bad, Kooks. She probably didn't even notice."
Jungkook groans, dragging his hands down his face until his eyes peek out dramatically between his fingers. "She 100% noticed. It was—like—a five-minute interaction. FIVE minutes, and I made it weird. Now she's gonna think I'm a fucking weirdo and a creep."
Jimin doesn't even try to hide the snort that escapes him, his expression somewhere between entertained and unimpressed. "Yeah, because stalking her as Spider-Man didn't have her thinking that already."
Jungkook bolts upright on the couch, eyes wide with panic. "She told you that?!"
Jimin chokes on his chip, wheezing as he waves his hand for Jungkook to calm down. "No! Shit, man, calm down. I'm just saying. Like, I guess? I mean, you do kind of… hover. A lot."
"I don't hover," Jungkook protests, indignant. But even as the words leave his mouth, he hesitates. "Do I hover?"
Jimin gives him a look.
Jungkook groans again, flopping back onto the couch like his limbs have given up on life. "Oh my god, you're right. I hover. I'm that guy. And now it's worse because who the fuck pops a boner from someone—" He pauses, embarrassingly aware of the words about to leave his mouth. "—touching their lip? What is wrong with me? I must be insane. She must think I'm insane."
Jimin, now thoroughly entertained, leans back in his chair with his bag of chips, one leg crossed over the other. "I mean... it's not great," he says unhelpfully, though there's a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Jungkook lets out a strangled noise, somewhere between a groan and a whimper, and buries his face back into his hands. "She's never gonna look at me the same. I probably freaked her out. GOD, she's gonna think I'm some kind of pervert. Or—worse—she's gonna avoid me completely now. And then I'll never see her again. And then—"
"Okay, okay," Jimin interrupts, holding up a hand to stop whatever spiral Jungkook's about to drag them into. "First of all, she offered to share her snack with you, so I don't think she's avoiding you anytime soon."
"But that was BEFORE—"
"Second of all," Jimin continues loudly, ignoring Jungkook's interjection, "maybe just... stop calling her 'noona' every chance you get? It's not helping your case."
Jungkook frowns, peeking out from behind his fingers again. "What's wrong with calling her noona? That's respectful!"
"Yeah, but it's also kinda... you know," Jimin winces, waving a hand vaguely. "Weird, coming from you. Like, you're already bumbling around her like a lost golden retriever. Adding 'noona' into the mix just makes you look—what's the word?"
"Adorable?" Jungkook tries hopefully.
"Pathetic," Jimin finishes, deadpan.
Jungkook groans for what feels like the millionth time, throwing his head against the couch cushion. "Why do I even talk to you? You're supposed to make me feel better, hyung. Not worse."
"Hey, I'm here for the truth," Jimin says, pointing at him with a chip in hand. "You want a cheerleader, go call Taehyung."
"Taehyung's just gonna laugh at me," Jungkook mutters into the cushion.
"And yet, you're shocked I'm doing it too."
Jungkook mumbles something unintelligible, his face half-smashed into the cushion now as he replays every excruciating detail of his interaction with you earlier. The way your thumb had brushed his lip. The way he'd immediately been unable to control the—well, reaction. The way he'd panicked like an idiot, stammered something incomprehensible, and practically bolted out of the cafe without even finishing his sentence.
"Kill me," he says dramatically, still face-down in the cushion. "Just end me. I can't show my face again."
Jimin laughs, leaning forward to pat Jungkook's shoulder in a way that's more mocking than comforting. "Relax, man. You'll survive. Just... maybe keep your hormones in check next time, yeah?"
Jungkook flips him off blindly, his hand waving somewhere above his head.
"Love you too, Spider-Menace," Jimin quips, taking another chip like this is the best entertainment he's had all week.
The crunching sound of Jimin biting into another chip is loud enough to make Jungkook groan into the couch again. "Do you ever stop eating?" Jungkook mutters, his voice muffled by the cushion.
Jimin raises an eyebrow, unbothered, and is about to throw a smartass reply back when his phone buzzes on the coffee table. He glances at the screen, sees Taehyung's name, and shrugs, casually placing the phone between his shoulder and ear as he picks up without pausing his snacking.
"What's up?" Jimin hums lazily, chips still in hand, completely ignoring Jungkook's existential crisis unfolding just feet away from him.
Jungkook's ears perk up despite himself—because why else would Taehyung be calling Jimin right now? He lifts his head just enough to peek over the cushion, his hair mussed and sticking up in odd directions.
Jimin's expression doesn't change at first, eyes still fixated on the bag of chips in his lap as he listens. "Yeah, he's with me," he says vaguely, gesturing aimlessly toward Jungkook, who frowns at being referred to like some stray dog Jimin found.
But then Jimin freezes. His chewing slows. His eyebrows shoot up toward his hairline as Taehyung says something that causes him to do a violent double take at Jungkook.
"What?" Jimin coughs, choking on the chip he was mid-swallow. He pounds his chest a little before leaning forward sharply. "He—what? What, what, what—? Tae, calm down—!"
"What's going on?" Jungkook asks, sitting up now, his stomach twisting uncomfortably at Jimin's sudden change in tone.
Jimin waves him off with a quick flick of his hand, signaling for him to shut up. "No, yeah. Yeah, no, I know," Jimin mumbles into the phone, his tone getting increasingly more exasperated as he listens. "Tae—okay? Can you just—okay?"
"What's wrong??" Jungkook asks again, panic creeping into his voice. He hates not knowing what's going on, especially when Jimin looks... concerned? Flustered? Whatever it is, it's not good.
Jimin twists his head toward Jungkook, eyes narrowing as he motions aggressively with his entire head for Jungkook to shut the hell up.
"Okay, let me— what? You wanna talk to him?" Jimin repeats, his voice pitching higher in disbelief. "Oh, now you wanna talk to him? Fine! Okay, okay, okay, here."
Before Jungkook can process what's happening, Jimin is all but shoving his phone into Jungkook's hands, plunking the bag of chips onto the bed with a dramatic sigh.
"Take it," Jimin mutters, irritation bleeding into his tone.
"Wait, why do I have to—"
"Take it," Jimin repeats, louder this time, his hand already retreating as he grabs another chip to munch on, clearly done with whatever chaos Taehyung just unloaded on him.
Jungkook swallows nervously, holding the phone to his ear as Taehyung's voice immediately fills it in a panicked rush.
"Jungkook! Oh my god, dude, you're not gonna believe this—" Taehyung starts, and Jungkook feels his entire stomach plummet before Taehyung can even finish his sentence.
"Believe what?" Jungkook half-yells into the phone, his voice cracking just slightly at the end, betraying the anxiety bubbling under his skin.
"Don't freak out," Taehyung begins, which, of course, makes Jungkook's blood pressure shoot straight through the roof. His knuckles grip Jimin's phone tightly, and he shares a panicked look with Jimin, who's now leaning against the coffee table with a chip halfway to his mouth, watching the scene unfold like it's prime-time drama.
"I'm already freaking out, hyung! Just tell me!" Jungkook demands, pacing the room like a caged animal.
"Okay, so," Taehyung starts again, and Jungkook can hear the smirk in his voice, which immediately makes him want to fling the phone out the window. "You know Y/N, yeah?"
"Do I—what do you mean, 'do I know Y/N'?! Of course I know—just get to the point!" Jungkook's frustration is mounting by the second. He's wound so tight he feels like a single flick might send him spiraling.
"Okay, Mr. Touchy," Taehyung says innocently, and Jungkook can practically see him holding back a laugh wherever he is. "So, uh… apparently, she's been asking questions."
Jungkook stops dead in his tracks. His heart lurches in a way that makes his hands clammy against the phone. "Questions?" he repeats, voice barely above a whisper.
"Yeah," Taehyung continues, tone far too blasé for Jungkook's liking. "You know, like... about Spider-Man."
Jungkook swears his brain short-circuits. For a second, all he hears is static, like every neuron in his head has collectively stopped firing.
"...What kind of questions?" he asks quietly, his voice taking on an edge that immediately grabs Jimin's attention.
"Oh, you know." Taehyung's voice is light, purposefully teasing. "Like, how he seems to always show up when she's around, or how he just happens to bring her favorite snacks, or—oh, this one's my favorite—how his voice cracks exactly like a certain freshman she knows at Yonsei."
Jungkook's knees buckle, and he collapses back onto the couch like his strings have been cut. Jimin is now openly laughing, clutching his stomach with one hand while pointing at Jungkook with the other.
"She—oh my god," Jungkook mutters into the phone, his free hand running through his hair in frantic tugs. "She knows. She knows, doesn't she? I'm so fucked."
"Hey, hey, calm down!" Taehyung says hurriedly, though his voice is still laced with amusement. "She doesn't know know. I mean, I don't think so. She's not like, accusing you or anything. Just... putting pieces together. Y'know, connecting dots."
"Connecting dots?!" Jungkook hisses, his chest tightening as his worst nightmare begins to unfold in real time. "Do you have any idea how many dots there ARE, hyung?! I'm like a walking... dot-factory!"
Jimin absolutely loses it, doubling over in laughter as crumbs from his chips scatter across the floor.
"Okay, Kook, you need to calm down," Taehyung says, though his tone suggests he's also suppressing a laugh. "She's just curious, that's all. You know how Y/N is. She's a journalist. She's always sniffing around for a good story, right?"
"She doesn't need THIS story!" Jungkook yells, his hand clenching into a fist against his thigh. "Oh my god, what if she writes about it? What if she—what if it ENDS UP IN THE SCHOOL PAPER?!"
"Relax, relax, relax," Taehyung says in quick succession, his voice almost soothing now. "She's not gonna write about it. I don't think she'd do that to you... unless, you know, you give her a reason to."
Jungkook groans, leaning forward to bury his face in his hands again. "I'm so dead. She's gonna out me. My life is over. My life is literally over."
"Hyung," Jimin finally pipes up, gasping for air as he wipes away a tear from laughing too hard. "Tell him to just confess already. At this rate, she'll figure it out before he ever grows the balls to tell her himself."
"Confess?" Jungkook sputters, jerking his head up to glare at Jimin. "Are you insane?! You want me to walk up to her and go, 'Hey, Y/N, funny thing—remember how you thought I was stalking you? Well, surprise! I was, but it's okay because I'm Spider-Man!' That's your plan?!"
Jimin shrugs, smirking as he tosses a chip into his mouth. "Worked for Andrew Garfield."
"THIS IS NOT A MOVIE!"
Taehyung's laugh echoes through the phone, loud and clear. "Oh man, I wish I was there to see this meltdown in person. Seriously, Kook, stop freaking out. Just... play it cool, okay? She doesn't know anything for sure. Yet."
"Yet?!" Jungkook exclaims, horror-struck.
"Gotta go!" Taehyung says way too quickly, the call disconnecting before Jungkook can yell at him further.
Jungkook stares at the phone in disbelief, his chest heaving as Jimin's smug laughter reverberates in the background.
"Cool," Jimin repeats mockingly, curving his lips. "Yeah, Kook, just play it cool. You're so good at that."
Jungkook groans, tossing the phone onto the couch and collapsing after it. "I need new friends."
"You love us," Jimin chirps, reaching for another chip.
Jungkook screams into the pillow.
You were expecting something, anything, really. A subtle slip-up. A sheepish confession. Hell, maybe even some stammering and nervous sweating.
But the moment you confronted Taehyung—cornered him, really, by the vending machine in the student lounge—and the words "Do you know if Jungkook's Spider-Man?" left your mouth, all he did was cackle. Loudly. Mockingly. Like a full-on villain in a Saturday morning cartoon.
"Spider-Man?" he wheezed, doubling over and clutching his stomach like you'd just told him the funniest joke in existence. "Jungkook? Jeon Jungkook? Noona, you're joking, right?"
You blinked, momentarily thrown off by how visceral his reaction was. "No. I'm not joking," you said stiffly, crossing your arms. "What's so funny about it?"
Taehyung straightened up, wiping a fake tear from the corner of his eye as he glanced at you with barely contained amusement. "Do you know Jungkook? Like, know him? Because that kid has two left feet. I've literally seen him trip over air. How would he even swing that gracefully?"
For a brief, fleeting moment, you felt the smallest hitch in your resolve. Because, well, the evidence did kind of contradict itself, didn't it? Jungkook is clumsy sometimes. That much is true. You've seen him knock over a whole stack of textbooks just trying to nod hello at you in the hallway. He once walked into a doorframe because he was too busy staring at his phone.
Spider-Man, by comparison, is supposed to be graceful. Quick. Precise. Not... whatever it is Jungkook embodies most of the time.
But then you think about the stupid coffee shop incident. The way Spider-Man stammered and fidgeted and tripped over his words like a nervous wreck. The way he dropped his entire cool superhero persona when he handed you those damn matcha pastries. He wasn't exactly graceful then, was he?
And okay, let's talk about those pastries for a second. Because the more you think about them, the more your brain starts spinning. You distinctly remember mentioning them once—to Eunjae, over lunch in the cafeteria, weeks ago. How the hell would Spider-Man know about them if he wasn't there to overhear?
You frown, chewing on the inside of your cheek as the pieces start stacking themselves again in your head. Jungkook might be clumsy, sure. But Spider-Man was clumsy too. At least, that day he was. And the matcha pastries aren't just a coincidence. They can't be.
Your inner spiral is abruptly interrupted by a bright, familiar voice calling out behind you.
"Noona!"
You whirl around at the sound like a guilty kid caught stealing candy, heart practically leaping into your throat because you know that voice anywhere. And there he is, the devil himself—Jeon Jungkook, all floppy hair and dumbly wide grin, bounding toward you like an overexcited golden retriever.
He sidesteps a couple of students in his path, his long legs moving with just a little too much energy. Honestly, it's a miracle he doesn't trip.
"I brought you these!" he announces, holding up a plastic bag like it's some kind of trophy. His grin stretches so wide it practically touches his ears, and you hate that your first thought is how stupidly adorable he looks.
Stupid, you think, swiping the bag from his hand. Not adorable. Definitely not adorable. You're sure of it.
Peeking inside, your brows furrow. "Hotteok?"
Jungkook presses his lips together, humming as he nods eagerly. "Yeah! You—" His smile falters just a touch. "You don't like it?"
The way his face drops shouldn't make you feel so guilty, but it does, and it's annoying. "No, uh, I mean…" You struggle for the right words, because… hotteok? Really? You'd been expecting the matcha pastries again. This feels almost purposeful—like he's playing dumb. Is he? Or is this proof that you've been completely off base this whole time?
You're overthinking again. Shaking your head, you wave off the thought entirely. "Yeah, thank you, Jungkook-ah," you mutter, tone softer than you mean it to be.
The banmal slips out without much thought, but the effect it has is immediate. His eyes go wide, and then his whole face lights up in the kind of beam that makes you want to smack yourself for fueling his enthusiasm.
"This is the first time you dropped honorifics with me," he says, looking downright gleeful.
You clench the bag a little tighter and wish you could hate him. Why is he so excited over something so small? Why does it make your chest feel weirdly tight? And why is it so hard to stay annoyed at him when he looks at you like that?
God, this kid.
"Don't get used to it," you mutter gruffly, turning away before the growing warmth in your cheeks betrays you completely.
"So," he begins, falling into step beside you as you start walking toward the journalism building. "What are your plans for today?"
You don't respond. Not out of spite or anything—you're just not in the mood to entertain whatever puppy-dog energy he's radiating right now.
"Writing notes?" he prompts, glancing sideways at you, his tone just a little too hopeful for your liking.
Still, you say nothing.
"Coffee?"
Nope.
"Gonna catch leads for Spider-Man's identity?"
That one makes you stop dead in your tracks. You whirl around so fast he nearly collides with you, blinking like a deer caught in headlights. "Huh?"
His eyes widen marginally, mouth opening and closing like he's trying to come up with a quick excuse. "Taehyung told me!" he blurts, the words tumbling out in a rush.
For a second, you just stare at him, blinking once, then twice. "Huh," you reply, eyebrows quirking upward.
"Yeah!" he adds, voice pitching slightly higher, probably in an effort to sound casual. "He said you were, uh, investigating? Like, Spider-Man and all that? You know, trying to figure out who he is?"
Your head tilts as you study him, arms crossing instinctively. "Did he now?"
"Uh-huh," he nods enthusiastically, though the way his hand rubs at the back of his neck gives him away almost immediately. "I mean, not that I think that's, like, bad or anything? It's cool! Totally cool! I mean, you're a journalist, so, like, it's your job, right? Investigating stuff and—"
"Jungkook."
He freezes, looking way too much like a kid caught sneaking cookies before dinner.
"Why," you ask, narrowing your eyes just slightly, "do you sound like you're trying to convince me not to?"
"I-I'm not! I'm not," he stammers, waving his hands frantically. "I was just, you know, saying! Like, uh, if anyone were trying to find his identity, it'd definitely be you because, uh… you're smart? And observant? And not at all easy to fool?"
Your brow arches higher, his stream of nervous compliments only fueling the suspicion building in your chest.
"Right," you say slowly, dragging out the word as you step closer, watching the way his Adam's apple bobs nervously when your gaze meets his. "So hypothetically…"
"H-Hypothetically," he squeaks, leaning back like he's mentally bracing himself for whatever's coming next.
"If I was trying to find out who Spider-Man is," you continue, voice calm and steady, "you wouldn't happen to have anything to do with that, now would you?"
The way he freezes, body rigid and eyes darting everywhere but at you, would be funny if it weren't so telling. The sheer panic written all over his face is practically criminal.
"I—uh—no? N-No. Definitely not," he stammers, the pitch of his voice betraying him entirely. "W-Why would I have anything to do with that? I'm just a freshman! I don't even know Spider-Man! I mean, who even is Spider-Man? Could be anyone, right? Crazy world we live in, haha…"
You take a moment to just stare at him, fighting the urge to roll your eyes so hard they might actually get stuck. "Right," you deadpan, turning on your heel to start walking again.
Jungkook exhales audibly behind you, feet scrambling to catch up. "Y-Yeah, right! That's what I thought too!" he says quickly, clearly desperate to steer the conversation in another direction. "Anyway, uh, where were we? Oh! Notes! Are you writing notes today, noona?"
You don't respond. Again. Mostly because you're too busy replaying his very suspicious reaction over and over in your head like a mental highlight reel.
Yeah… no way this kid isn't up to something.
You keep walking, your steps steady, purposeful. Jungkook, as always, trots along beside you like he's afraid you might disappear if he doesn't keep up. And unlike you, who values peace and quiet, Jungkook doesn't seem to understand the concept of shutting up.
"So, like, I was thinking," he starts, voice bright and eager. "If Spider-Man's around all the time, do you think he lives nearby? Like, maybe he's a uni student? Or—or maybe he's secretly a professor? Oh my god, imagine Professor Kim as Spider-Man—he'd probably web someone for being late to class, right? Oh, oh, or he'd use his powers to booby-trap the lecture hall if we don't submit our midterms on time! Haha—what do you think, noona?"
You don't answer.
"And have you noticed he wears, like, the same colors as Yonsei's? Like, blue and red? Do you think that's on purpose? Maybe he's trying to rep the school spirit! Or maybe he's trying to throw us off! Who knows, right? I mean, what's your theory? You must have a theory—you're always so smart about these things—"
"Jungkook," you interject, your voice flat as you stop abruptly in your tracks. He almost trips trying to halt beside you, blinking wide-eyed like he didn't expect you to actually respond.
"Yeah?"
"Don't you have class?" You ask, turning your head just enough for him to see the pointed look you're giving him.
He licks his lips, and you know he's about to lie before the words even leave his mouth. "No?"
"Liar," you deadpan, already turning back to face forward.
"You know my schedule?" he shoots back, voice teasing as he trails after you again.
You roll your eyes but don't give him the satisfaction of a retort. If you respond, he'll just milk it—probably tease you further, or worse, distract you with another string of nonsense questions about Spider-Man. No, you're better off ignoring him.
So, you keep walking. He keeps rambling.
And then—
The sound of a bus engine roaring down the street takes you off guard. You don't even register the rush of movement until it's too late.
Suddenly, there's a firm pressure against your shoulders, and you're stumbling—but not forward, no—backward. Stumbling directly into Jungkook's chest, his arms bracketing your body like they're the only thing stopping you from tumbling straight into the pavement.
Your breath catches, your heart pounding against your ribs. You freeze, blinking up at him in shock. "What the—"
He's close. Too close. His face hovers just inches from yours, his expression wide-eyed and… strained.
"Are you okay?" he blurts, his voice laced with breathless concern like he's just sprinted a marathon.
You don't answer. You can't answer. Because all you can think about is how the hell he even managed to grab you like that.
He was five meters away. Five meters away, Jungkook. There's no way he could've—
"What the fuck," you murmur under your breath, your mind racing a mile a minute as you shove yourself upright, still staring at him like he's grown a second head. "How—when—how the fuck did you just—"
"It was nothing!" he rushes out, cutting you off before you can finish your sentence. His voice cracks, and he's already letting go of you, stepping back like he's afraid of the scrutiny in your eyes. "I-I mean, reflexes? Adrenaline? Fight or flight? Haha…"
You narrow your eyes, suspicious once again. "…Right."
Jungkook scratches the back of his neck, the tips of his ears turning red. "Yeah, uh… it's all good. You're fine, right? Totally fine! So, uh… should we—keep walking? Yep, let's keep walking!"
He starts to turn away again, clearly desperate to move on, but you don't budge. You're too busy trying to piece together what just happened, trying to figure out how Jungkook keeps doing things that defy all logic and common sense.
And that's when it hits you.
Spider-Man. Fast reflexes. The ability to move like that without warning. You glance down at his feet, planted firmly on the ground, and then back up at his sheepish grin.
No fucking way.
"I'm leaving."
"No—come on, Tae, you promised!" Jungkook whines, clutching at Taehyung's shoulder like a child trying to stop his older sibling from walking out the door.
Taehyung stops mid-stride, turning to glare at him with an expression that's this close to murderous. "I promised you I'd study with you at the library," he hisses. "Not that we'd come here so you can sit there and drool all over her."
Jungkook freezes, eyes wide. "I—what?!"
"You heard me," Taehyung deadpans, shoving Jungkook's hand off his shoulder.
"I have no clue what you're talking about," Jungkook mumbles, feigning innocence as he suddenly averts his gaze.
Taehyung rolls his eyes so hard it's a miracle they don't get stuck. "Kook, you've been staring at her table since we walked in. Don't even try to deny it."
"I—have not!" Jungkook protests, voice pitching just slightly higher than normal. His head jerks around, and of course his eyes instinctively flicker to your table. The one three meters to the left. The one where you're currently sitting, completely engrossed in your notes, pencil moving methodically across the page like it's the only thing that matters in the world.
You're breathtaking. Ethereal. Like a beam of light in the dull, dusty gloom of the library.
And honestly, Jungkook's not even sure why he's into you. Okay, maybe he's a little sure. Or a lot. But that's not the point—the point is—he is definitely not staring. Not staring, not drooling. Definitely.
"You're doing it right now, man," Taehyung mutters, arms crossed.
"I'm not!"
"You are."
"I'm not! It's just—" Jungkook swallows, gesturing vaguely in your direction. "I was just… checking out the table. It's a nice table! Good wood quality, sturdy legs. The craftsmanship is—"
"Good wood quality?" Taehyung repeats, staring at him like he's lost his mind.
Jungkook groans, throwing his hands up in defeat. "Fine! Okay! Maybe I glanced at her for a second. It's not a crime, hyung!"
Taehyung lets out a long-suffering sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose like he's already regretting his life choices. "I am so done with you," he mutters. But even as the words leave his mouth, he walks toward one of the tables anyway and plops his bag down into one of the vacant chairs.
"Sit," he grumbles, motioning vaguely to the chair across from him. "And don't make me regret this."
Jungkook doesn't need to be told twice. He practically trips over himself as he sits, trying to act cool and not-at-all-focused on the fact that you're sitting so close. So close that he can see the faint furrow in your brow as you concentrate, or the way you absentmindedly tap the end of your pencil against your notebook.
He's not staring. Definitely not staring. Probably.
"You're staring again," Taehyung says flatly, not even bothering to look up from his own notes.
"No, I'm not!" Jungkook hisses, slouching lower in his chair.
Taehyung snorts. "Okay, Mr. 'Good Wood Quality.' Sure."
Jungkook tries. He really does. He's here to study—or at least, he's here to pretend to study—and he's determined to do something productive. Something library-like. Something that doesn't involve spending the entire time sneaking glances at you like some lovesick idiot.
So, step one: grab a book. Easy. People in libraries read books, right? He can do that. Simple.
He meanders through the shelves, grabbing the first book that catches his eye. He doesn't even check the title. Doesn't matter. A book's a book.
Step two: sit down. Done. Chair, occupied. Book, open.
Step three: look at the book like he's actually reading it.
He squints at the text, hoping his brain will absorb something through sheer willpower because god knows his mind sure as hell isn't cooperating right now. Every five seconds, it drifts back to the table three meters away, where you're still sitting, still taking notes, still looking unfairly... breathtaking.
"Jungkook," Taehyung mutters, his voice barely above a grumble as he glances up from his own book. "Why the fuck are you reading that?"
"What?" Jungkook blinks, startled, then looks down at the book in his hands for the first time.
Advanced Theoretical Physics.
Oh.
"You don't even study physics," Taehyung points out flatly, his tone dripping with judgment.
Jungkook flushes, slamming the book shut and fumbling to shove it under the table. "I—uh—thought it looked interesting."
Taehyung stares at him. "Sure you did."
Before Jungkook can come up with anything to salvage what's left of his dignity, you—of all people—decide to stand up, and all the air in Jungkook's lungs promptly decides to leave with you.
Oh, god. You're moving. Why are you moving? Where are you going? Should he say something? Should he act casual? Should he—
You shift slightly, gathering your things, and suddenly Jungkook's heart is doing this weird thing where it's racing and stuttering and flipping over itself, and now his body is moving before his brain can even think to stop it.
"Gotta go," he blurts, practically tripping over his chair as he bolts to his feet. "To the bathroom. I have to—pee. Yeah, really super really need to pee right now. See you in a bit!"
Taehyung looks up, stunned, as Jungkook all but sprints toward the library exit. "What the—wait—"
But Jungkook's already halfway across the library, muttering curses under his breath as he tries not to make it obvious that he's absolutely not going to the bathroom.
Taehyung sighs deeply, dragging a hand down his face before muttering to himself, "He's gonna get us banned from this place, isn't he?"
Jungkook's halfway to the library exit, heart pounding, when he realizes something odd.
You're not heading to the exit.
You're not even walking toward the bathroom.
He skids to a stop, trying very hard to play it cool, to act like he's not absolutely clocking your every move. His hands find their way into his hoodie pocket as he leans against the nearest bookshelf, pretending to scan the titles like he's not also sneaking glances at you over his shoulder.
Okay, so you're not leaving. That's fine. Totally normal. You're just… heading deeper into the library. Toward some distant corner, weaving past tables and shelves like you've got some secret mission.
And Jungkook? Jungkook is absolutely not a stalker. He's not. He's just curious. That's it. Normal behavior. Normal library behavior for a normal freshman.
Totally not unhinged.
But then you disappear behind a bookshelf, and his feet are moving before his brain can step on the brakes.
He follows, not too fast—just casual-like. Normal person stuff. Nothing suspicious. His eyes dart between shelves as he tries to spot where you went, his stomach doing this weird twisty thing that's part nerves, part excitement, part oh-god-why-am-I-like-this anxiety.
And just when he thinks he's catching up, just when he rounds the corner of yet another shelf and is about to spot you—
Yank.
Jungkook barely has time to register what's happening before soft hands grab him by the hoodie and pull him into a small, cramped room. His back bumps into something solid—he thinks it's the door—and suddenly you're standing right there, close enough that he can see every detail of your face, from the faint line of concentration on your forehead to the subtle curl of your lips as you exhale sharply.
Oh fuck. Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.
"You," you exhale, your voice sharp but quiet. "Have some explaining to do, young mister."
Jungkook's mouth opens, but nothing comes out. His brain is short-circuiting, sparking like a broken circuit board, because—how? Why? When? What?
"I—uh—I—what?" he stammers, blinking rapidly as his eyes dart around the tiny supply closet you've dragged him into. It's all brooms and cleaning supplies and the faint smell of lemon disinfectant, and holy fuck, it is too small in here. You're too close.
"Don't play dumb," you mutter, arms crossing as you lean back just slightly—not enough to give him actual breathing room, but enough to make him feel like he's being scrutinized under a microscope. "You've been acting… weird."
"Weird?" He squeaks, his voice cracking embarrassingly. "Me? Weird? No, I'm not weird! I'm—uh—normal! Super normal! The most normal person ever!"
Your brow arches, the skepticism written all over your face making his knees weak. "Normal people don't act like they've got something to hide," you reply evenly.
"I don't have anything to hide!" he says way too quickly, voice pitching high again.
You don't look convinced. Not one bit.
Jungkook swallows hard, his throat suddenly dry as he tries to come up with an excuse, a cover, a way to escape both this tiny-ass room and the weight of your accusing gaze.
But all he can think about is how close you are. How your voice sounds louder in this little space. How your shampoo smells faintly like citrus. How utterly and completely trapped he feels—not just against the door, but under the intensity of your stare.
And he's so screwed. So screwed.
"The bus thing," you say, and Jungkook feels his entire soul leave his body for approximately three seconds before crash-landing right back into his chest with a painful thud.
"What bus thing?" he asks, trying for innocent confusion, but his voice comes out more like a strangled whisper. "There are lots of bus things. Buses are everywhere. Seoul's public transport system is very efficient and—"
"Three days ago," you cut him off, eyes narrowing. "When I almost got hit."
Oh.
Oh.
Oh fuck.
The memory hits him like a freight train. Three days ago. That stupid bus driver who didn't see you crossing. The way his heart had stopped dead in his chest when he realized you were about to—and he'd just—without thinking—
He'd used his webs.
On you.
In broad daylight.
As Jungkook.
Not Spider-Man.
Just... regular freshman Jeon Jungkook, who definitely shouldn't have access to web-shooters or superhuman reflexes or the ability to yank someone out of harm's way from five meters away.
"I don't—" he starts, but his mouth is dry, his tongue feeling too big for his mouth. "That was just—"
"Just what?" you press, leaning closer. "Just adrenaline? Just reflexes? Just another totally normal thing that totally normal freshmen do?"
"Yes?" he squeaks, pressing himself further against the shelf on his back like he might somehow phase through it if he tries hard enough.
Your eyes narrow further. "Really."
"Really!" He nods frantically. "I mean, haven't you heard those stories? About moms lifting cars off their kids? Same thing! Totally the same thing. Chemistry major stuff. Very scientific. Fight or flight response. Cortisol. Adrenaline. Biology... things."
"You're not a chemistry major."
"I could be!"
"You're in communications."
"...Minor in chemistry?"
You stare at him for a long moment, and Jungkook swears he can feel sweat beginning to bead at the back of his neck. This closet is too small. The air is too thick. You're too close, and your eyes are too sharp, and oh god, he's really messed up this time hasn't he?
"Jungkook," you say, voice low and steady. "How exactly did you pull me away from that bus?"
"I... ran really fast?"
"You were five meters away."
"I'm... very athletic?"
"Five meters, Jungkook."
He swallows hard, adam's apple bobbing nervously. "Would you believe me if I said I've been working out?"
The look you give him could probably melt steel. "Try again."
"Yoga?"
"Jungkook."
"Pilates?"
You lean even closer, if that's possible, and Jungkook's pretty sure his heart is about to explode right out of his chest. "One more chance," you murmur. "Tell me the truth."
And god, he wants to. He really, really wants to. Because you're right there, looking at him with those eyes that see right through him, and he's tired of lying, tired of pretending, tired of—
"I just..." he starts, voice barely above a whisper. "I couldn't let you get hurt."
Your expression softens, just slightly, but your gaze remains unwavering. "How did you do it?"
"I—"
Just as Jungkook's about to bolt, there's a distinct click that makes both of you freeze.
"What the—?" You whirl around, pushing past him to grab the handle. It doesn't budge. You try again, yanking harder this time. Nothing.
"You must be fucking kidding me," you mutter under your breath, jiggling the handle with increasing frustration.
And that's when Jungkook realizes several things at once:
1. Someone's locked you two in.
2. The closet is tiny.
3. You're pressed up against him trying to open the door.
4. Your ass is—
Oh god.
Oh god.
This cannot be happening. Not again. Not after the coffee shop incident. Not after he literally had to swing away to deal with his... situation.
"Fuck," he breathes, trying to press himself further into the piece of furniture behind him, but there's nowhere to go. The shelves dig into his back as he attempts to create even an inch of space between your bodies.
His hands hover awkwardly at his sides, not daring to touch you, not daring to move. His breath catches in his throat as you shift again, still wrestling with the door handle, completely oblivious to the way each movement sends sparks of electricity through his entire body.
"Hey!" you call out, banging on the door. "This isn't funny!"
Focus on something else, Jungkook tells himself desperately. Anything else. Math. Chemistry. Professor Kim's boring lectures. That time Jimin ate an entire jar of kimchi and—
You shift again, and Jungkook has to bite his lip to suppress a strangled noise.
"Seriously," you growl, hitting the door again. "Whoever's out there better unlock this right now or I swear to god—"
Think unsexy thoughts. Think unsexy thoughts. Dead puppies. Tax forms. Spidey suit chafing. Anything but how soft you feel against—
"Jungkook?" Your voice cuts through his desperate mental gymnastics. "You okay? You're breathing kind of weird."
"Fine!" he squeaks, voice way too high to be convincing. "Totally fine! Just, uh... claustrophobic! Very claustrophobic. Super claustrophobic. Did I mention I'm claustrophobic?"
You turn your head slightly, and even in the dim light, he can see your brow furrow. "Since when?"
"Since... right now?"
Another shift of your hips as you try the handle again, and Jungkook has to close his eyes, silently praying to whatever deity might be listening to either kill him now or get him out of this situation before he combusts from sheer embarrassment.
Because if you notice... if you realize... oh god, he'll never live it down. He'll have to transfer schools. Change his name. Move to a different country. Become a hermit in the mountains where no one will ever find him—
"Can you try pushing while I pull?" you ask, completely unaware of his internal crisis.
Jungkook makes a sound that might be agreement, might be distress, might be his soul leaving his body. He's not really sure anymore.
All he knows is that he's trapped in a closet with you, with your body pressed against his, and his spidey-sense is absolutely no help because apparently it doesn't warn him about situations that might kill him from pure mortification.
"Jungkook?" you prompt again, and he realizes he hasn't moved to help with the door.
"Right!" he says quickly, voice cracking. "Sorry! Just... give me a second to... uh... mentally prepare."
You snort. "For pushing a door?"
"Yes," he says weakly, because what else can he say? 'Sorry, I need a minute because you feel too good pressed against me and I'm trying very hard not to embarrass myself'?
Yeah, no. He'd rather die.
Jungkook does what you say. He really does. He plants his palms flat against the door, muscles tensing as he tries to push in time with your pulls. But it's too much. Too much to focus on, too close, too you.
His very healthy, very 21-year-old brain is absolutely screaming some unfortunate, very, very filthy thoughts right now, and no amount of silently yelling at himself to stop it, stop it, STOP IT seems to be working.
Push and pull. Yeah, he's thinking of that in an entirely different context, and honestly, sue him. He's a guy. A guy experiencing literal hell because your ass keeps brushing against him every time you shift, and it's doing things to him.
You move again, and Jungkook swears he's going to lose it. Like, right here. On the spot. His knees are weak, his palms are sweating, and his brain is running on some kind of autopilot loop of, "Abort mission! Shut it down! This is a disaster!"
Fuck him. Fuck his life. Just take him now, death. Send the reaper. Hell, send Taehyung to throw him into the Han River. Anything but this.
But then—just as his brain reaches critical overload—you stiffen.
Oh no.
You turn your head slightly, glancing at him over your shoulder, and the look in your eyes is... not great. In fact, it's terrifying.
"Jungkook," you say, his name an ominous warning.
His whole body seizes, every alarm in his mind blaring at full volume as sweat beads at the back of his neck. "Yeah?" he squeaks, his voice cracking so hard he wants to dig his own grave and lie in it.
"Are you hard?"
Oh, fuck.
Oh FUCK.
His brain short-circuits. His entire being freezes. His soul? Gone. It has left the building. His vision blurs at the edges as the words echo around the tiny closet, bouncing off every surface and hitting him square in the chest over and over again.
"I—uh—what?" he stammers, his voice so high-pitched it might as well be a dog whistle.
You straighten, still half-facing him, and your brow furrows with that look of realization that makes him want to throw himself into the sun.
"You are," you say, your tone shifting between disbelief and a growing edge of... amusement?
"I—I—no—what? No, I'm not! That's—no, that's ridiculous!" He tries to back away automatically, but there's nowhere to go, and his shoulders slam against the wood behind him.
You fully turn at this point, arms crossing as you raise a suspicious eyebrow. "Really, Jungkook?" Your eyes drift ever so slightly downward, and oh no oh no oh no don't look down don't look down don't look down.
He flails. Not physically, thankfully, but mentally? He's losing it. He's scrambling for something, anything, to salvage even a shred of dignity.
"It's—it's not what you think!" he blurts out, his hands flying up defensively. "It's—it's the—the door! Yeah! This stupid closet! I told you I was claustrophobic, right? That's gotta... do something... biologically... right?"
You stare at him, unimpressed. Completely, utterly unimpressed.
"It's not me," he continues, voice cracking again because his body is betraying him. "It's—it's like—science! Random reaction!"
"...Random reaction." Your expression is unreadable now, which somehow makes this worse.
"Totally random," he insists, nodding way too quickly. "You know, like... blood flow! Hormones! Human anatomy! It's a thing! You can look it up!"
"Oh, I'll look it up," you mutter, the corner of your mouth twitching like you're trying very hard not to laugh.
"Please don't," Jungkook whispers, his face burning so hot he's genuinely worried the fire alarm's going to go off.
And honestly? He doesn't even care if the fire alarm goes off at this point. He'd happily burn in this library right now if it meant escaping the absolute mortification of this moment.
Jungkook is fairly certain he's about to pass out, maybe die, and definitely disintegrate into dust when it happens. You turn around, shift again, just slightly, your body brushing against him in a way that feels… deliberate?
Or is his brain just playing tricks on him now?
Oh god. Oh fuck. Is this some cruel, sick hallucination brought on by his overactive imagination? Is his mind punishing him for thinking all those filthy, traitorous thoughts earlier? Why can't he have some kind of superpower to read minds right now? Be Professor X or some shit, because at this point, anything would be better than not knowing what the hell is going through your head right now.
Do you think he's a creep? A weirdo? A perverted little freshman who can't keep it together for five fucking minutes?
Or—
The thought makes his stomach flip violently, a spark of something hot—and definitely dangerous—shooting down his spine as you shift again.
Or do you find this… fun?
Amusing?
Arousing?
Because there's something about the way you're not stepping back, the way you're not recoiling in disgust, the way your breaths are just slightly heavier than before, that's making Jungkook's head spin.
And then you chuckle—low, quiet, but unmistakable.
"This is the first time this has ever happened to me," you mutter, the sound light but laced with something he can't quite name.
But he doesn't care what it's laced with. He doesn't even care what it means.
Because oh god, that chuckle—he'd bottle it if he could. He'd trap it in a jar and keep it with him forever, listen to it on repeat like a favorite playlist, let it echo in his head until he went insane from the sound of it alone.
His mouth opens, but no words come out. His body is frozen, his brain completely fried, every single one of his senses hyper-focused on the fact that you're still right there, pressed against him, closer than you've ever been before.
Say something, dumbass, his brain screams at him. Anything. Literally anything.
"I—it's not my fault?" he manages weakly, his voice cracking so pathetically he wants to punch himself.
You laugh again, and this time there's no mistaking it—there's something mischievous in it, like you're enjoying watching him squirm. And oh no, oh god, you're enjoying this.
"I didn't say it was," you reply, your voice smooth, calm, fucking deadly.
Jungkook swallows hard. His legs feel like they're about to give out any second now. His palms are clammy. His heart is doing that thing where it feels like it's both racing and stopping entirely at the same time.
"I—uh—should we try the door again?" he stammers, trying desperately to redirect the situation before his entire body spontaneously combusts from the sheer tension in the air.
You hum softly, not answering right away, and Jungkook feels every muscle in his body tense in response.
You keep moving, but now it's with purpose—up and down motions that are too deliberate to be anything but intentional. Like you're actually trying to... to get him off. Right here. In this tiny closet. In the fucking library.
Jungkook's mind is gone. Absolutely fucking gone. His consciousness has left his body, floating somewhere near the ceiling as he tries to process what's happening. He's honestly shocked he hasn't passed out yet, given how fast his blood is rushing south.
His hands hover awkwardly over your hips, trembling with the effort not to touch. His teeth dig into his bottom lip, desperate to hold back the embarrassing sounds threatening to escape. Because he refuses to pant like some desperate animal, even though that's exactly what you're reducing him to.
But then—oh fuck—you reach back, grabbing his hands. And before his brain can catch up, you're placing them firmly on your hips.
"It's okay," you murmur, your voice low and honey-sweet. "You can touch me."
The permission makes him shudder, a full-body tremor that he couldn't suppress if he tried. Your hand slides over his, guiding it upward, and his breath catches in his throat as you move it higher, and higher, and—
Oh god.
You press his palm against your breast, and Jungkook's brain completely flatlines.
A pathetic whimper escapes him before he can stop it. His fingers twitch against the soft swell under your shirt, and he's pretty sure he's died. This is death. This is heaven. This is some kind of fever dream his horny brain has cooked up.
"Is this really happening?" he whispers, his voice raw and desperate. "Like, actually happening? Not just another dream or—"
He cuts himself off, realizing what he just admitted, but it's too late. The words are already out there, hanging in the heated air between you.
"Another dream?" you repeat, and he can hear the smirk in your voice. "You dream about this often, Jungkook-ah?"
Fuck.
"Way too often," he confesses, the words spilling from his mouth before his brain can catch up. And yeah, that's definitely because his mind has completely checked out. Because normal Jungkook? Coherent Jungkook? Would rather die than admit something like that.
But normal Jungkook isn't here right now. Normal Jungkook left the building the moment you pressed his hand to your breast. Now there's just... this Jungkook. The one who can't think straight because you're letting him squeeze and touch and feel, and your ass is doing absolutely criminal things against his cock.
His forehead drops to your neck, breath coming in heavy pants that he can't control anymore. Fuck trying to be quiet. Fuck trying to be composed. His hips move on their own, grinding forward to match your rhythm.
Because you gave him permission, right? You said he could touch. You guided his hands. So this is okay. This is allowed. This isn't just another fevered fantasy his desperate brain cooked up at 3 AM.
"Noona," he breathes against your skin, the honorific slipping out again because his filter is completely gone. His fingers flex against your breast, testing, exploring, learning what makes your breath hitch. "Fuck."
You guide his movements with a confidence that makes his head spin, showing him exactly how to touch you. His fingers find your nipple through the fabric, and the way it peaks under his touch makes him dizzy with want. Your hand stays over his, encouraging him to squeeze, to explore, to learn.
And Jungkook? He's never been this hard in his entire fucking life.
He's pathetic, really. Getting this worked up from some dry humping and breast play like he's fifteen instead of twenty-one. Sure, they're absolutely amazing tits—perfect, actually, fitting in his palm like they were made for his touch—but still. He's broadcasting his virginity like a fucking neon sign, getting this desperate this fast.
But he can't help it. Can't stop the way his hips keep rolling against you, seeking more friction, more pressure, more. He knows he's close—can feel it building in his abdomen, that telltale tingling that makes his toes curl in his stupid mismatched socks.
"Noona," he whimpers against your shoulder, the sound muffled by your shirt. "Noona, I'm—fuck—"
His breath comes in sharp, desperate pants. He's making these absolutely embarrassing sounds—little whimpers and moans he has to muffle against your skin because if anyone heard him like this, he'd actually die on the spot.
The pressure builds, and builds, and builds, until he's grinding back helplessly, practically sobbing because it feels so good he can't stand it. His free hand grips your hip like a lifeline, probably too hard, definitely leaving marks, but he can't help it.
"Please," he chokes out, though he's not sure what he's begging for. "Please, I'm—I can't—"
He's going to come in his pants like a fucking teenager, and the worst part? He doesn't even care anymore.
"It's okay, Jungkook-ah," you murmur, voice honey-sweet and deadly. "Let go for noona."
And that's—that should be illegal. The way those words hit him is criminal, making his whole body seize up like he's been electrocuted. His hips stutter, losing rhythm as everything goes white-hot. He groans against your shoulder, embarrassingly loud even muffled against the fabric, as his orgasm hits him like a fucking freight train.
He came. He just—he actually just—came in his pants. Like some inexperienced kid who's never been touched before.
Mortifying. Absolutely fucking mortifying.
A hiccup escapes him, something between a sob and a whimper, and he wants to disappear. To evaporate. To cease existing entirely.
"Hey," you whisper, so soft it makes his chest ache. Your hand reaches back, fingers threading through the hair at the nape of his neck, and his skin erupts in goosebumps immediately at the gentle touch.
He wants to cry. Wants to apologize. Wants to explain that he's not usually this pathetic (lie), that he can last longer than three minutes (another lie), that he's not always this embarrassingly eager (the biggest lie of all).
But the words stick in his throat like clay, thick and suffocating. Because what can he possibly say? 'Sorry I just creamed my pants from some dry humping and titty grabbing?'
"It's okay," you murmur, and another hiccup escapes him.
No. No, don't do that. Don't pity him. Don't say those words like anything about this situation is remotely okay. Because it's not. It's the furthest thing from okay. He just—he literally just—
"I really liked that," you add, voice soft but sure.
Jungkook's head snaps up so fast he nearly gives himself whiplash. "What?"
You… liked it? How could you possibly have liked that? He barely lasted three minutes. He came in his pants like a middle schooler. He probably squeezed your tit too hard and left bruises on your hip and made the most embarrassing sounds and—
"How?" he croaks out, voice raw and disbelieving. "How could you—that was so—I'm so—"
Pathetic. Desperate. Inexperienced. Embarrassing.
His brain supplies about fifty different self-deprecating adjectives, but none of them make it past his lips because he's still trying to process the fact that you said you liked it.
The dam breaks.
Jungkook is crying. Tears spill over his flushed cheeks, unbidden and hot with shame, and oh god, he's really lost it now. He's crying, actually fucking crying, because apparently, being mortified isn't enough. No, his body has to betray him in every possible way all at once.
His blurred vision catches you turning around to face him, and then your hands—soft, warm—reach up to gently brush the tears away from his eyelids. The gesture makes him hiccup, and he immediately wants to crawl under the floorboards and die.
"It was cute," you murmur, and your tone is soft but steady, like you actually mean it.
"Don't say that," he mumbles, voice cracking as he ducks his head, his tears threatening to spill faster. He can't handle this. He really, really can't.
You smile—a smile so kind it feels like a dagger to his chest. "Why? I'm not lying."
"You are."
"I'm not."
"It was so embarrassing!" he bursts out, the words tumbling from his mouth in one long, panicked string. "I made such embarrassing sounds and—and I—I came in my pants and—"
"It's what I wanted," you interrupt, your words cutting through his spiraling like a blade.
He freezes, the tears still clinging to his lashes. His breath catches, the air suddenly clammy.
"...What?" he croaks, the word so small and broken it barely makes it past his lips. His mind blanks, unable to process what he just heard. Surely he misheard you, right? Surely this is some kind of cruel, shame-induced hallucination because there's no way.
"It's what I wanted," you repeat, your voice unwavering as you look him straight in the eye, your gaze too steady, too certain.
His breathing stutters. His tears momentarily forgotten, he stares at you, wide-eyed and silent, like you've just flipped his entire world upside down.
Your hand is still on his cheek, thumb brushing away the lingering wetness under his eye, and Jungkook can't look away from your face. Can't process the way you're looking at him—soft but certain, like you actually meant what you just said.
"But—" he starts, voice wavering. "But why would you—I mean, I—" He swallows hard, his face burning. "I barely even touched you. I just... got off on you like some desperate—"
"Because," you cut him off, your other hand coming up to frame his face, holding him still when he tries to look away. "I liked making you fall apart like that. Liked knowing I could affect you that much."
His breath catches. "But—"
"And," you continue, your thumb trailing down to brush over his bottom lip, making him shiver. "I liked how honest you were. How you couldn't hide how much you wanted it."
Jungkook's brain short-circuits again. Because what the fuck? What the actual fuck? You liked that he was desperate? That he was pathetic and needy and—
"The sounds you made," you murmur, leaning closer, close enough that he can feel your breath against his lips. "Were fucking hot."
He makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat, caught somewhere between a whimper and a groan. Because this can't be real. This has to be some kind of fever dream. Some kind of post-orgasm hallucination.
"Noona," he breathes, his hands twitching at his sides, unsure if he's allowed to touch you again. "I—"
And then the door clicks.
Both of you freeze, heads snapping toward the sound. Light floods the closet as the door swings open, and there stands Taehyung, looking entirely too pleased with himself.
"Time's up, lovebirds!" he announces cheerfully. "Did you two work out your... tension?"
Jungkook is going to kill him. He's actually going to murder his best friend. Right after he dies of embarrassment. Again.
"Hyung," he croaks out, face burning hotter than the sun. "Did you—was this—did you plan this?!"
Taehyung just grins, wiggling his eyebrows. "You're welcome!"
When Jungkook can’t get the raw, desperate moans he needs for his sensual new track, he turns to the one person who can give him exactly what he wants - you.
pairing𓂃 : jungkook x fem!reader
warnings𓂃 : vocal booth au, recording kink, voyeurism (the mic is always on), degradation + praise kink, dom!jungkook, jungkook is a big fucking talker, he’s obsessed with your moans, fingering, he fucks you stupid, he cums inside (wrap it up guysss), dirty talk, he makes you listen to the raw audio after, yearning + obsessed jungkook, they both are down for each other, slight breeding talk
Word count 𓂃 ~ 2.5K
It’s 2:17 a.m. when you push open the heavy studio door, two iced Americanos sweating in your hands. The control room glows with that familiar blue-purple light from the mixing board. The sensual, heavy beat Jungkook has been working on for weeks loops quietly — deep 808s, breathy synths, and a slow, grinding rhythm that already feels like sex.
Jungkook is alone, hunched over the console, black hair messy, silver chain catching the light every time he moves. His eyes flick up the second you step inside, and that slow, dangerous smile spreads across his face — the one that always makes your stomach flip and your thighs press together.
“Baby,” he rasps, voice hoarse from hours of recording. “You didn’t have to come.”
“I know,” you say, setting the coffees down. “But your texts sounded stressed. Figured you needed company...”
He rolls his chair back and pulls you between his legs without hesitation, arms wrapping around your waist as he buries his face in your stomach. You run your fingers through his hair and feel him melt for a second. Then he pulls back and looks up at you with those dark, hooded eyes.
“I’m stuck,” he admits quietly. “The ad-libs sound fake. I’ve done forty takes and none of them feel real. The producer wants that raw, desperate sound — like someone’s actually getting fucked while the track plays. I need real moans. The kind you make when I’m deep inside you. Wet. Shaky. Completely unfiltered.”
Your breath catches.
“You want to record me… while we’re having sex?” you whisper.
He nods slowly, thumbs stroking your hips. “The mic is already hot. The booth is empty. Door’s locked. No one’s coming until morning. Just… help me get one perfect take? Please?”
You stare at the glowing red “RECORDING” light inside the vocal booth. The idea is filthy. Dangerous. And you’re already wet.
“Okay,” you breathe.
Jungkook’s eyes darken instantly.
Ten minutes later you’re both inside the vocal booth.
The space feels smaller with the tension between you. The beat plays low through the monitors, vibrating through the floor. Jungkook locks the door behind you, the click final and exciting. He turns to you, voice low.
“Clothes off. Slowly. I want to watch every second.”
You obey, heart hammering. Shirt first, then bra. His gaze is heavy, devouring every inch of skin you reveal. When you push your skirt and panties down he actually groans, stepping closer.
“Fuck, look at you. Already soaked and I haven’t even touched you yet.”
He spins you around so your back is to his chest, both of you facing the big glass window and the glowing red light. His hands slide up your sides, cup your breasts, thumbs brushing your nipples until they’re tight and aching.
“Hands on the glass,” he murmurs against your ear. “Legs apart.”
You do it. The glass is cool under your palms. Behind you, his belt clinks, zipper drags. Then the hot, heavy weight of his cock presses against your ass — already hard, already leaking.
He reaches past you and adjusts the expensive studio mic so the capsule sits right in front of your mouth.
“Say something, baby. Let me check the levels.”
“Jungkook…” you whisper.
The mic picks it up perfectly — soft, already shaky with anticipation.
He smiles against your neck. “Perfect. Now don’t hold back. I want every sound. Every gasp. Every moan. Every time you say my name while I’m fucking you.”
He slides two long fingers between your legs from behind, dragging them slowly through your folds. You’re already soaked. A soft gasp leaves you.
“Fuck, you’re dripping,” he murmurs. “The mic is gonna love this.”
He circles your clit with two fingers, slow and teasing, while his other hand grips your hip. Then he pushes one finger inside — deep, curling immediately against that spot.
You moan, forehead dropping against the glass.
“That’s it,” he says, voice low. “Let the mic hear how wet you are for my fingers.”
He adds a second finger, thrusting slowly, scissoring them open, stretching you. The wet, filthy sounds fill the booth and the mic captures every single one — the slick squelch, your shaky breaths, the way your moans get higher every time he curls his fingers just right.
“Moan louder,” he coaches. “I want people to hear exactly how good my fingers feel inside you.”
You obey. Broken, desperate sounds pour out of you as he fingers you faster, thumb rubbing tight circles on your clit. Your legs shake. The red light glows. The beat pulses.
When you cum the first time it’s on his fingers — walls clenching, a long, raw moan ripping out of you that the mic eats up completely. Jungkook groans behind you, fingers still moving, fucking you through it.
“Perfect,” he pants. “That’s the sound I want.”
He then lines himself up and pushes in slowly — torturously slowly — stretching you open inch by inch while the deep beat pulses around you. A broken, breathy moan slips out before you can stop it.
“That’s it,” Jungkook groans, bottoming out. “Just like that. Let the mic hear how full you are.”
He stays buried deep for a long moment, one hand gripping your hip, the other sliding up to gently collar your throat — possessive but gentle. Then he starts moving.
Long, deep, deliberate strokes. The kind that make your toes curl and your eyes flutter. Every time he pulls out you can hear how wet you are — that filthy, slick sound the mic is capturing in crystal-clear detail.
“Moan for me,” he says, voice rough. “Louder. I need it raw.”
You give it to him. A soft, trembling sound that turns into a longer, needier moan when he angles his hips and drags perfectly against that spot inside you.
“Fuck, yes,” he hisses. “Again. Right there.”
He fucks you a little harder, but still controlled, savoring every second. The desk in front of you rattles. Your breasts press against the cool glass. The red light stares back like it’s watching everything.
Jungkook’s dirty talk starts flowing, low and filthy right against your ear:
“Listen to how wet you are, baby. The mic is eating every single sound. Everyone who hears this track is gonna know exactly how good I fuck you.”
You whimper, thighs shaking.
“Say my name.”
“Jungkook—”
“Louder.”
“Jungkook—!”
He rewards you by speeding up just enough, hips rolling deeper. One hand slides around to rub slow, tight circles on your clit while the other stays on your throat. The combination is devastating.
You’re moaning shamelessly now — high, breathy, desperate sounds the mic devours. Jungkook keeps coaching you the entire time, voice dark and encouraging:
“Perfect… just like that… let it all out.” “Fuck, you sound so pretty when you’re falling apart on my cock.” “Give me more, baby. I want this take to be filthy. I want people to hear how desperate you get for me.”
Your second orgasm builds slowly, torturously. Jungkook refuses to rush it. He keeps the pace deep and steady, hitting that spot over and over while his fingers work your clit with expert precision. When you finally cum it’s with a long, broken wail that cracks in the middle — raw, completely unfiltered, exactly what he wanted.
The mic catches everything: the way your voice shakes, the desperate little sobs, the way you chant his name like a prayer as your walls clamp down around him.
Jungkook groans like he’s in pain, hips stuttering. "Fuck, that’s perfect.”
But he doesn’t stop.
He keeps fucking you through it — slower now, but deeper, grinding against your oversensitive walls while you tremble and whimper. The wet, filthy sounds of him moving inside you are obscene and the mic picks up every single one.
“Gonna fill you up,” he growls against your ear. “Gonna make sure you’re leaking me when we leave this booth. Every time you sit down tomorrow you’ll feel me.”
You’re too far gone to answer with words. All that comes out are broken, high-pitched moans the mic captures perfectly.
When Jungkook finally cums the first time it’s with a long, guttural moan right against the back of your neck — deep, raw, and so real it makes your stomach flip. He stays buried inside you, pulsing, both of you shaking.
For a long moment the only sounds are your ragged breathing and the low, sensual beat still playing.
Jungkook carefully pulls out, turns you around, and lifts you onto the small leather couch in the corner. He kneels between your spread thighs, eyes dark and hungry as he watches his cum slowly drip out of you.
He doesn’t give you time to fully recover.
He leans in and licks a slow, filthy stripe up your center, tasting both of you. You jolt, a broken cry escaping. The mic is still hot — he angled it before he moved you.
“Fuck, you taste like us,” he groans against your skin. “So messy. So perfect.”
He eats you like a man starved — tongue fucking into you, sucking on your clit, two fingers sliding in deep while his mouth works you over relentlessly. Your moans are loud, uncontrolled, exactly what he wants. Every time you try to muffle yourself he slaps your inner thigh, sharp and stinging.
He growls. “Let the mic hear every fucking sound you make.”
You obey. You moan and whimper and beg while he devours you, and when he finally pushes back inside — one smooth, deep thrust — you scream.
This round is slower but somehow even more intense.
Jungkook fucks you in long, rolling strokes that make your eyes roll back. He keeps the mic right beside your head, capturing every gasp, every wet sound, every time you moan his name. He talks you through it the entire time — filthy, coaching, possessive.
“Listen to yourself,” he pants. “Listen to how wrecked you sound. You’re gonna sound so good on the track, baby.” “Tell me how deep I am. Louder. The mic needs to hear it.” “Fuck, you’re squeezing me so tight. You love this, don’t you? Love knowing people are gonna hear you falling apart on my cock.”
You’re crying from how good it feels — tears of overwhelming pleasure slipping down your temples as he fucks you deep and slow, grinding against that spot with every thrust. He reaches between you and rubs your clit in tight, relentless circles.
Your second orgasm hits harder than the first.
It crashes over you in long, rolling waves — your whole body shaking, voice breaking on a scream that the mic captures in perfect, raw detail. Jungkook fucks you through every pulse, whispering praises and filthy promises the entire time.
When he finally cums the second time it’s with a broken, desperate moan right against your mouth — deep and guttural, exactly the kind of sound that will make the track feel alive.
He stays inside you for a long time after, both of you trembling, foreheads pressed together, breathing the same air.
Eventually he reaches over and stops the recording.
Then he hits play.
The raw audio fills the small booth.
Your first round — soft, building moans turning into desperate wails. The wet, filthy sounds of him fucking you. Your broken begging. The exact moment you came the first time — loud, shaky, completely real. Then the second round — slower, deeper, your screams and sobs as he ate you out and fucked you again. Jungkook’s own groans and dirty talk layered throughout. The final, broken moans as he filled you the second time.
It’s the hottest, most explicit thing either of you have ever heard.
Jungkook’s cock twitches inside you even though he’s already soft.
“Holy shit,” he whispers, laughing breathlessly. “That’s it. That’s the one.”
He saves the file, names it “Vocal Booth – Raw Takes (feat. Y/N)”, and pulls you into his lap for soft kisses and gentle aftercare. He wipes you down carefully, helps you get dressed, and holds you for a long time before you both finally leave the studio at 4:30 a.m., legs shaky and matching grins on your faces.
Three months later...
The track drops at midnight.
It’s called “After Hours” — a sensual, late-night R&B song with heavy bass, breathy synths, and the most explicit background vocals anyone has ever heard on a mainstream release.
Within hours the internet explodes.
Twitter / X (trending worldwide):
armyprotectjungkook: “THE BACKING VOCALS ON AFTER HOURS??? HELLO??? Those moans are TOO real I’m actually shaking in my bed rn”
jkswifey4life: “no bc the way you can hear the wetness and the skin slapping… jungkook what the fuck did you do in that vocal booth 😭😭😭”
taekookisreal101: “the girl in the background sounds like she’s actually getting fucked I’m not okay I’m never recovering from this”
moansforjk: “I’ve listened to this song 47 times already. The ad-libs are unhinged. Jungkook really said ‘let me make porn with music’”
Reddit – r/bangtan (thread with 12k upvotes):
“Anyone else losing their mind over the ad-libs in After Hours? They sound way too authentic. Like… real sex noises. I’m scared and horny at the same time.”
“Jungkook really said ‘I’m gonna make this song sound like porn’ and delivered. The production on those moans is insane. How did he make them sound so natural???”
“Bro the wet sounds are actually insane. This man recorded in the studio with someone and we all know it.”
TikTok (official audio – 4.2M views in 12 hours):
“the way the moans match the beat perfectly… someone was getting absolutely destroyed in that vocal booth and i respect it”
“jungkook if you’re reading this i need to know if those are real because i’m not sleeping tonight”
“the girl moaning sounds like she’s in love and getting railed at the same time… tell me that’s not his secret girlfriend”
“i’ve never been so jealous of a microphone in my life”
Weverse (Jungkook’s post 3 hours after release):
[JK] Did you guys like the new song? 😏
[JK] The ad-libs were fun to record.
[JK] Special thanks to my very talented guest vocalist 🔥
[JK] Don’t ask too many questions lol
The comments immediately go feral.
Fans are losing their minds. Theories are everywhere — some say it’s an actress, some say it’s a random staff member, a few very loud ones are convinced it’s his secret girlfriend. The “how are the moans so realistic” discourse is trending worldwide. People are making edits, slowing down the track, analyzing every gasp.
And Jungkook? He’s lying in bed with you, phone in one hand, the other lazily stroking your thigh.
He turns to you with that dangerous little smirk.
“Think they’ll ever figure it out?” he asks, voice low.
You smile, still sore in the best way.
“Probably not,” you whisper. “But they’re definitely going to keep listening… over and over.”
Jungkook laughs, pulls you on top of him, and kisses you slow and deep.
“Good,” he murmurs against your lips. “Because I already booked the studio again for next week. I want more takes.”
You shiver.“Only if you let me choose the positions this time.”
His smile turns wicked. “Deal, baby. Anything for the perfect sound.”
He then tapped the screen until the familiar sounds fills the dark bedroom, playing softly from the speakers.
You both go quiet, listening.
The first thing that comes through is your own voice — soft at first, then breathy and shaky as his fingers worked you open in the vocal booth. Your desperate moans as he fingered you to your first orgasm. The way your voice cracked when he finally pushed his cock inside you.
Jungkook’s hand on your stomach tightens.
“Fuck,” he whispers against your hair. “Hearing it like this… in our bed… it sounds even dirtier than I remembered.”
You feel heat flood between your legs instantly.
The track keeps playing. Your moans grow louder, more broken. The wet, filthy sounds of his fingers moving inside you fill the room. Then the moment he switched to his cock — that first deep thrust, your choked sob of pleasure.
Jungkook’s breathing has gone heavier. His hand slides lower, fingers brushing the waistband of your panties.
“Listen to how wet you were for me,” he murmurs, lips brushing your ear. “Everyone heard it. Thousands of people are listening to you falling apart on my fingers right now.”
You whimper softly.
He pushes your panties down your thighs and slips two fingers between your legs. You’re already soaked — have been since the listening started. He groans when he feels it.
“Shit… you’re dripping just from listening to us.”
He circles your clit slowly, exactly the way he did in the studio, while the sounds continues playing. Your own moans from three months ago echo through the bedroom, mixing with the soft, real ones you’re making now.
“Jungkook…” you breathe.
“Shh. Just listen, baby.”
He pushes two fingers inside you, slow and deep, curling them the way he knows drives you crazy. The wet sound is loud in the quiet room — almost as loud as the one coming from the speakers.
“Fuck, you sound exactly the same,” he groans, pumping his fingers steadily. “So wet. So perfect. The mic caught every single sound… and now I get to hear it while I do it again.”
The raw sounds reaches the part where you came the first time in the booth — that long, raw wail. Jungkook curls his fingers harder, thumb pressing on your clit, and you cum with a broken moan that’s almost identical to the one playing through the speakers.
He doesn’t stop.
He keeps fingering you through it, slow and relentless, while the track moves into the second round — the part where he ate you out and fingered you again before fucking you on the couch.
“Listen to that,” he whispers, voice rough. “That’s you cumming on my tongue. Then on my fingers again. Everyone heard how many times I made you fall apart that night.”
You’re trembling, oversensitive, but he doesn’t let up. When the song reaches the part where he finally pushed his cock inside you the second time, Jungkook pulls his fingers out, rolls on top of you, and slides in — one smooth, deep thrust.
You both moan at the same time.
The song is still playing. Your recorded moans fill the room while Jungkook fucks you slow and deep in the dark, face-to-face, forehead pressed to yours.
“God, you feel so good,” he pants.
He rolls his hips in that perfect rhythm, hitting every spot that makes your vision blur. One hand slides between your bodies, fingers finding your clit again.
“Cum for me again,” he whispers. “Let me hear the real version while the recorded one plays.”
You cum hard, nails digging into his back, moaning his name right as your recorded voice does the same on the track. Jungkook follows seconds later, burying his face in your neck with a low, broken groan as he pulses deep inside you.
The track keeps playing softly around you as you both come down, breathing hard, bodies tangled.
Jungkook doesn’t pull out. He stays buried inside you, kissing your neck, your jaw, your lips — slow and sweet now.
“That was hotter than the studio,” he murmurs, smiling against your mouth. “Hearing us together like that… fuck.”
You laugh weakly, still floating. “You’re actually going to listen to our sex tape while we have sex now?”
“I prefer the real you, my love.” he says, grinning. “The fans think those sounds are the hottest thing they’ve ever heard. They have no idea it’s you. My perfect, filthy little secret.”
a/n: hiii, I've been so busy lately and haven't gotten ANY time. this is just what I felt like writing randomly so I thought.. why not?
also I was listening to 'you could start a cult' by niall while writing this. man I was feeling it.
the clock barely strikes seven and jungkook is already at your door. he is wearing an oversized black t-shirt and grey sweatpants, a smile playing on his lips.
he's already moving forward, capturing your mouth in a kiss, arms snaking around your waist pulling you closer to him.
"hi," jungkook says in between the kisses, grinning widely.
"hi", you reply, wrapping your arms around his neck
"I missed you," he confessed, nuzzling his face into your neck. it's nights like these that are so unique wherein you both can separate yourselves from the world, your house being the sweet escape.
these nights don't require special efforts. just ordering food while binge watching your favourite show on the couch even though it was him who won the game of rock paper scissors. you catching jungkook staring at you besottedly, while you rant to him about your day and how you have an important presentation next week. you both can be however you want to be.
sometimes, jungkook finds himself thanking the universe for having you in his life. all his life, he felt like a nomad in search of what love feels like, now he knows it all.
you are his safe space, a person he can confide in.
a person he would want to listen all day, adore all day. no wonder how his day went, at the end of the day he feels all his worries being washed away just by your kisses. even if the world decides to keep jungkook away from you, he can feel an invisible string pulling him to you.
midnight hours feel like a reverie, the show playing on the t.v. long forgotten. jungkook pulls you into his lap, hands resting on your hips. his eyes staring into yours reverently before dropping to your lips. you don't know who moved first, only that your lips were against his and suddenly the world was caught in a standstill. his lips were soft against yours, your hands tangled in his hair. his hand drawing gentle circles on your hips. this intimacy, it was nothing sexual. it was your own sacred religion.
he pulls back breathless, forehead resting against yours.
"I love you," jungkook says, his nose brushing against yours.
"I love you too"
even if time plays its mystical tricks, you are sure this love will keep you two tethered together. you will always love nights like these.
no warnings just jungkook and reader being in love
author note: i wrote this a while ago but i didnt have the energy or confidence to upload it due to the other posts ive uploaded but i dont want to forget this page so i had to post something.
jeon jungkook had many titles. he was the golden maknae, kookie, jungkook, even ian, a name he thought of before debuting with his real name, but there were two titles he cherished the most, husband and father. the former came earlier, after 3 years of being boyfriend and girlfriend on a summer night of 2019, jungkook proposed to her. he would never forget her face when he knelt on one knee and draw the ring he had been hiding for months…
2019
8 concerts into the love yourself speak yourself world tour, jungkook was utterly exhausted. they ended their love yourself tour early that year and with their new album map of the soul persona, they started their new leg of the tour with two concerts at the Rose Bowl stadium, 4 more dates at the United States and they were flying to Brazil and then to England, where they would have two sold out concerts at the Wembley Stadium. it wasnt until their second concert, when they witnessed their fans sing to them “Forever Young”, when they realized what they had achieved, what they were achieving and what they would achieve, that jungkook knew it was time, time to marry the girl that had stolen his heart from the first smile, one of the people he loved the most, the girl who was there when the long nights at the study made him exhausted, when the social world was too overwhelming, when he cried longing for his lost childhood, when all that he wanted was a kind heart to lean on.
his eyes were still red from crying, his body was shouting him to turn around, go to their hotel room and sleep till next morning, but he shouted back, he wanted, no, he needed to do this, to take this next step onto their relationship, to be able to call her wife, and her to be able to call him husband. the thames was lull, the street buzzing with people having dinner or just taking a walk in the summer breeze. wearing black from head to toe, a cap and the hoodie above it, his face was covered in black, but even then, he knew some people would recognize him. did he care? no, not at all, not when the only person that mattered was gripping his hand and smiling at him as if he was some kind of god and had just made a miracle, jungkook thought she was the miracle. she was all sweet smiles and kind words, a flower in a meadow full of thorns, and his hyungs loved her like a sister, like she was another member of bts. in those initial weeks, they teased him all the time, but they were happy for him, their younger brother.
they stopped at the railing facing the river, the city behind them. his hands were shaking a little, the ring weight in his pocket but he took a deep breath and gripped her hand.
“you should be sleeping, you know? we still have a long way to go tomorrow.”
“i know but i wanted to do this” jungkook turned to face her and gripped both hands now “ i had something planned for this, something entirely different but tonight made me realize things, that a new chapter is starting for us, as a group as a family, maybe it had already began but it made me realize that i want to start a new chapter in my life, our chapter” he dared to look at her eyes, silver lining them under the street lights, as fallen stars and a soft smile on her face. “you are the greatest thing that ever happened to me from the first time i laid eyes on you, i knew then that you were someone special, different, you walked through the world with a smile on your face and a kind word to everyone, you lit up every room, even the darkest heart melted at the sight of you, and im so grateful to call you my girlfriend… but i think it’s time to take the next step, to be able to call you wife and for you to be able to call me husband” she whispered his name but jungkook was already taking the ring from his pocket and kneeling on one knee.
he opened the box and their faces were stained with tears, but none cared. “ i want to make you happier every day of your life, i want to travel the world with you, i want to grow old and know with no regrets, that i got to marry you, that i got to be able to be yours and only yours. my beautiful girl, my jagiya, nae sarang, will you give me the honor to be your husband?” people stopped to watch, a few of them even recording and jungkook knew without a doubt that it would soon be trending, did he care? no. not when the love of his life threw herself to him. she hid her face on his neck, smelling his scent that had smooth her on the long nights, the times that she had been so drained, he had always been there, always supporting her, in one way or another. she could only nod, nod, and nod, yes she would marry him, yes she would be with him forever, yes he was the love of her life, yes she would marry him.
2026
7 years had passed since that june night where he had proposed to her. 2 years later he married her, a small but beautiful wedding, they had married both the korean way and the conventional way, he would never forget the moment she had walked down the aisle, he started crying then and didn't stop until the banquet, and even then, when his hyungs walked to the small stage and talked and talked about them through the years, the youngest members of the family they had created.
and now, 7 years later, jeon jungkook was proud to call himself father. he wasn’t the youngest now, that little life they had created was. it had been a long long night, full of pain but also happiness and now, sitting beside his sleeping and exhausted wife, he looked down at his little girl, jeon sun hee. shes was so tiny and round, her pink cheeks, her small nose and those eyes, so round and big, just like his, oh he was damned, so so damned by this little ray of sunshine and his love at his side. his shirt was discarded somewhere, skin to skin contact is the best this first hours a nurse told him so he had let both of them sleep until a knock disturbed the bubble of peace. the door opened and jin, namjoon, yoongi, jimin, tae and hobi walked in with various bags, plushies and balloons, all of it for the new member of the family. his baby was still asleep even with all the members in the hospital room, but his wife awoke, awoke glowing like the brightest star.
a family.
he had created a family, with the people he had grown up with, the people who had been there since his trainees days, who had cried, laughed, fought and lived with, and now at the age of 28, jeon jungkook, the golden maknae, knew he had achieved happiness like no other.
