#jungkook fluff

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Mutual Help | 61

↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; in order for you to pretend to be his girlfriend, he helps you with your sexual desires ⏤ he calls it mutual help

⇢ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: jungkook x reader

⇢ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fake dating au, fluff, angst, smut, slow burn

⇢ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: explicit language, explicit content

⇢ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 16.3k+

⇠ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯. | 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐱 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ⇢

Going back to reality leaves a bittersweet taste on your tongue and a strange pressure in your chest. So much has happened in Hawaii in the span of just a few days, leaving your existence feeling overwhelming. The rational part of you tries to convince you that, in the end, it’s exactly how it’s meant to be.

After all, this is what you wanted in the first place.

It was your decision.

But rationally, the discomfort from recent events lingers, slowly swallowing you whole. And no matter how hard you try to pretend you can go back to how things were two years ago, too much has happened – there’s no way back.

Dwelling on the past never helped anyone. It only tortures you.

It’s strange – your thoughts spiral as you desperately try to pinpoint exactly what you’re feeling. It’s confusing, painful, and frustrating.

None of the things you’ve done or experienced with Jungkook do you regret. You know very well that, at the time, it was exactly what you wanted – and you acted on instinct. You lived in the present.

Yes, you may have had moments where you told yourself you’d fucked up, that you’d acted purely on your needs and wants. But looking back now, you don’t actually regret it. Maybe you convinced yourself you did – but you don’t anymore.

It was your doing. Yours and Jungkook’s. Two adults who consented to all of it.

Sure, maybe it wasn’t the smartest idea to let it go that far. Maybe you should’ve never crossed the line from being best friends whose closest contact was a tight hug.

But God. You’re insufferable.

Just thinking about all the tension, excitement, and joy makes your toes curl, and you feel defeated knowing you won’t experience it again. Stupid–yes, you’re aware. You’re so fucking stupid.

But if you want to bring your friendship back, you have to set a boundary. No physical contact beyond a hug. No kisses. No intimate touches. No sex.

Just you and Jungkook, writing a new chapter. You know you probably won’t be able to return to the friendship you had years ago – but it’s time to work on it, to get as close as possible. That’s your wish.

Things are awkward for now. But there’s still a fragile, hopeless kind of hope that you’ll be able to work it out somehow.

Small steps, you tell yourself.

Standing at the airport, waiting in line to board the plane, feels like leaving something behind. In a way, you are. Once you’re back in Korea, something unknown and uncertain is waiting for you – especially when it comes to your relationship with Jungkook and how it will continue.

Even your interactions with him have been reduced to a minimum. You’ve only talked about basic things – whether you packed everything before leaving the beach house, the cab’s arrival, the flight departure, or whether you were hungry while waiting to board.

Here and there, he shows you his screen – a few funny videos he’s scrolled past on TikTok. You don’t blame him. He’s trying. But is this how it’s going to be?

Even on the way to Hawaii, with your hands always finding each other, there was nothing hollow between you. Now, it’s different.

And even though you understand the reasons why, it’s still hard to come to terms with.

“Want something?”

“–Hm?” Interrupted by your never-ending thoughts, Jungkook’s voice cuts through them.

He and the flight attendant both look at you, waiting for an answer. The flight attendant – perfectly neat – stands in the aisle, pushing a cart with meals. Jungkook holds his card in hand, ready to pay for the coffee about to be handed to him.

“Um–no, I’m good. Thanks.” You give her a small smile. Jungkook pays, and you turn to stare out the window, met with the same stretch of white clouds you’ve been watching for at least an hour.

Jungkook’s been staring at his phone, too polite to put on headphones and completely zone you out. There’s just nothing you could possibly say to him without feeling the strange atmosphere between you. You’ve tried to make conversation, but it always feels off – ending too quickly, which is probably for the best. At least then it’s not unbearably awkward.

It feels like you’ve run out of topics altogether.

You’ve tried – who’s picking you up from the airport. Whether Taehyung and Jimin reached out. If he’s ready to get back to work.

Just the basics, deliberately skipping anything about the actual vacation. You know it’s waiting for you as soon as you land.

He sips his coffee, not questioning your choice to decline anything. You close your eyes, desperate to clear your thoughts and focus on getting some rest. It takes a while, but eventually you drift into a light nap – still aware of your surroundings, even of Jungkook briefly speaking to a flight attendant who’s gathering trash as he tosses the paper cup away.

You’re not sure how much time passes by, keeping your eyes closed until a soft hand gently shakes you out of your daze.

“We’re here.” Jungkook announces, briefly met with your eyes opening as he unbuckles his seatbelt. 

Here comes the reality. 

“So–let me get this straight… you two went to Hawaii alone, got into a fight because of another woman and man, then ended up having sex?”

If you could curl up in a ball and hide yourself from Maya’s brown eyes, you would do that instantly. You haven’t even told her all the details and her summary actually fits. First of all, you weren’t planning on telling anyone what went down. But she has a great detective way of asking. One look at your face and she knew you two ended up hooking up again. 

“Well–technically yes.”

You told her the part around Nara and Gabriel, reasoning why you’ve done it and up to your satisfaction, she understands why you’ve done it. 

You’re currently at hers and Namjoon’s place, luckily Namjoon’s hanging out with friends. 

“And what was the reason for ending it?”

You look at her in bewilderment as if it wasn’t obvious.

“Wait–you don’t have any cameras here, right?” 

Maya snorts, but there’s nothing wrong with being delusional. You don’t need Namjoon checking any potential footage randomly and hearing the unbelievable story of yours. Not to mention he’s one of Jungkook’s good friends – not that it means anything – but it’s not on your wishlist for anyone else to know. 

“No, not yet. We’re planning to buy one because after the wedding I would like to raise a puppy, so we probably will need cameras around here.”

“Puppy?” you snort, “I'm pretty sure you two have other priorities once the honeymoon starts.”

Maya laughs, looking suddenly sheepishly. “You don’t have to worry about any cameras. So kiss and tell.”

“I probably won’t kiss anyone any time soon–for my sake.” 

Maya laughs again, finding humorous your sarcastic coping. Well, at least you’re trying to joke about certain things. 

“Why would you end it?”

“Maya, come on–” you tsk, shaking your head.

“What? You know my thoughts on this. You’re both single and hot people. You just fit–in all kinds of ways.”

You grab a pillow and throw it at her. Her laugh resounds through the entire living room as she totally forgets the bag that’s been delivered to her. She’s sitting on the couch, a box long forgotten as she seems to eat up every word that’s coming out of your mouth.

“We kept going in circles, Maya. No matter how many times we ended it, somehow we always just ended up–”

“Having the best sex of your lives?”

“Maya, I swear–”

“Sorry, I know it looks like I’m taking it lightly but I just don’t understand what you’re so scared of. If it feels right, who cares?”

“Because it’s not right.” you argue.

She looks shocked, “Oh…”

“It’s not right, in all forms and ways possible. We–I had a pregnancy scare.”

“Holy shit.”

“Yeah,” you sigh, “It made me realize that if the test–if I ended up pregnant, our whole lives would change and that scared me. None of us want that and it was the last drop. We were careless. It keeps ruining our friendship.”

“Friendship?” Maya cocks her brow. Curls tighten in a wide ponytail as her coconut oil fills your senses. “Honey, it’s a relationship by now, no friendship.”

“There’s no relationship.”

“I–” she stops for a second, collecting her thoughts before she opens her mouth again. “Understand what you mean and we don’t have to define the term. I just mean–yeah friends sometimes fuck but you said it yourself. You and Jungkook kept going in circles. You’re both attracted to each other, hell, I don’t think I know anyone personally that would have that much attraction to one another. You can’t get enough of each other. Why just let it be and see where it gets you? If you guys wanna fuck, so be it.”

“I just told you. I don’t need to be reckless, end up knocked up by my friend–that would just complicate everything, not to mention I don’t want kids now. I don’t want it with someone I sleep with.”

“What are you scared of? Hm?” she asks softly. “Are you scared of love?”

You almost choke on your spit, “I don’t love him!”

She cocks her brow, “You sure?”

“I mean I do–not in that way though.”

“Because you don’t let yourself.”

“I don’t need to,” you argue. “A relationship could get messy and I don’t want to lose him. I don’t need to try it just for fun, what happened in Hawaii opened my eyes.”

“I understand,” she says, “Have you guys talked since you arrived? Taehyung was your drive, right?”

“Yeah he was,” you nod, “He obviously asked how the vacation was and all sorts of questions. You know Taehyung. And as for us talking–no. I mean we do have a group chat and we both chatted there, but we don’t really interact directly there.”

“Awh, I’m sorry. You’re sad.”

You try to fix your face from whatever expression there was. “No, I’m okay. I don’t expect everything to be just back to how it was. I think we both need some space before we can see each other.”

“Hey–aren’t you supposed to meet next week? I heard Namjoon about them hanging out at that new place around the corner from where Jungkook lives. I’m pretty sure Joon mentioned you will be there too.”

“I mean–I agreed to come, I just–”

“No, no, no. You won’t decline and you have to go, Y/N!” she almost whines. “The more you keep your distance, the more it will affect you. If you want things to go back to normal, you have to get through this uncomfortable and awkward phase.”

“I know, I know. I’m aware.. I’m just scared of what the dynamic will be.”

“I understand. But I might be there as well. We can just hang out. There’s too many men anyway.” She rolls her eyes as if men bothered you. 

You chuckle, “You’re about to get married.”

“Yeah, can’t believe it’s happening. But men are men, come on.” she jokes, both of you laughing together.

“Good thing there aren’t any cameras here, huh?” you joke, another crack of loud laughter easing the topic.

“Well, well, well–if this isn't a full-time beach bum. Finally came to do some work?”

The familiar voice sends shivers down your spine as you can feel the eyes burning your back. Turning around, you’re met with one and only person who would have the guts to call you that so openly and shamelessly. You would’ve laughed at the nickname, but you won’t give him that satisfaction. 

Min Yoongi stands there, with fully ironed button-ups and hair slightly longer than you remember them to be. He looks neat, wearing one of his fancy colognes you faintly can smell in the air. 

To be completely honest, you kind of like seeing a fresh face that reminds you of your work-life, even though there’s a subtle annoyance, of course. You would never admit it out loud and minus the annoyance, you’re glad to see another man’s face that you interact on a daily basis with. Not that you want to. Since you work together, you’re forced to interact – even though you barely do if it’s not some snarky remarks to annoy the other or something work related.

“Just say you’ve missed me, don’t be shy.” The coffee machine behind you makes a noise while it starts pouring coffee, as Yoongi’s lips curl into disgust. 

The sight makes your lips twitch in amusement. 

“The only thing I’m missing is the air without your presence.”

“Ouch–” you feign hurt, a palm over your heart. “It’s okay. I know deep down you’ve missed me.”

“Yeah, sure,” he rolls his eyes.

“You came here to talk to me. That proves my point.”

“It proves nothing. I came here to make myself a coffee.” he points out and although you feel your cheeks pinch from the burn, you regain your posture and eye-him up and down. 

“God, I almost forgot how annoying you are.”

“My pleasure.” he smiles sarcastically. 

“I’m sure it is. Feels like tormenting me is the only pleasure you’re getting.” You make sure he sees the tight, forced smile as he scoffs, briefly looking away.

He wets his bottom lip. “Really?” he asks, a hint of challenge in his voice. “How many times did you have sex with that best friend of yours?”

For a brief moment, you feel heat rise to your cheeks and the back of your neck under his direct words. One thing about Yoongi is that he loves getting under your skin.

You take a second too long to reply, which only feeds into his assumption–and for once, it’s not entirely wrong. Still, you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of being right.

So you lie, straight through your teeth.

“None.”

“Mhm,” he hums behind you, clearly not believing you for even a second.

The coffee is done, the machine letting out a soft beep. Taking the cup into your hands, you fall back on the one thing that always masks the truth.

“Don’t worry. Maybe in another universe, you and I would have a chance.”

Watching Yoongi’s expression shift into pure, unmistakable disgust makes you laugh hard enough to nearly spill your coffee.

“Yeah, let’s hope that universe never makes it.”

Snorting, you take a short sip of your coffee, hoping it might wake you from your dazed state. The truth is, you didn’t sleep well. You woke up in the middle of the night so many times you lost count. Every time you closed your eyes, it was like you were back in Hawaii – on the plane, or anywhere Jungkook was. He invaded every inch of your dreams.

You once read that dreams are unprocessed events. This feels like proof of that.

You’ve done everything to make yourself presentable; not a single person could guess how your night really was. Yoongi moves to the machine, making himself a coffee.

Opening your mouth to steer the conversation somewhere else, you’re interrupted by someone calling your name. One of your co-workers greets you and quickly slips into a friendly, if slightly nosy, conversation about your vacation. She asks all the usual questions.

You welcome it, though. It seems you need more interactions with other people – anything to keep your mind from drifting back to the one person who keeps invading it.

When you glance behind you, to where Yoongi had been standing, there’s nothing – only the faint smell of his strong americano lingering in the air.

The rest of the week passes in circles. You go to work, come home, and keep yourself busy with small things – organizing cupboards, doing chores, anything to stay occupied.

The group chat mostly consists of Jimin and Taehyung texting each other. Jungkook says he’s had a lot of work since getting back and is still catching up. He replies here and there, usually when they mention him, but otherwise, the chat feels… off.

It’s true – you and Jungkook haven’t spoken directly. And you find yourself wondering if you should just send him a quick text.

That’s what friends do, right?

Even Taehyung calls both of you out for being unavailable, but you fall back on the same excuse Jungkook uses. You’re busy, catching up with everything.

It’s not really an excuse – you are busy. The difference is, you’re making sure you stay that way.

After Taehyung’s comment, you do try to react more to the things they send, hoping he won’t question it further or corner you the moment he gets you alone.

The day of your hangout is here, and you make sure you look as good as you possibly can. You spend a little too long in front of the mirror, adjusting things no one else would notice, just to feel a bit more in control. There’s an odd feeling blooming in your chest, a quiet anxiety building as you prepare to face Jungkook again. It sits there, persistent, like something you can’t quite name but can’t ignore either.

Once you get there, you feel like a high schooler about to take an oral exam in front of the class. A strange comparison, but you swear – the same tight knots twist in the pit of your stomach. Your hands feel slightly restless, unsure of where to settle, and every passing second stretches just a little too long. You catch yourself overthinking the smallest things–what you’ll say first, how he’ll greet you, whether it’ll feel normal at all.

Much to your disappointment, when you arrive, there’s no sign of Jungkook. At first, you tell yourself it might be for the better if he shows up later. Maybe then you’ll feel a little more in control. But it turns out today isn’t that kind of day.

After twenty minutes of talking about everything and nothing, you drift closer to Jimin. “Where’s Jungkook?”

For a moment, Jimin seems taken aback by your question, but he quickly shakes it off. “He’s not coming,” he says. “I thought you knew.”

“Yeah–yeah. I thought he was coming.” You try to play it off.

But even Jimin seems to notice something’s off. Out of everyone, you’d be the one to know. If the thought lingers in his mind, he doesn’t push it – just gives you a small, easy smile.

“He said he’s got one more big project to finish.”

And maybe that’s true. You know how Jungkook is when it comes to work – how easily he loses himself in it, how little time he leaves for anything else.

But still…

You can’t shake the feeling that you might be part of the reason he didn’t come.

When the waitress comes over to take your order, you sheepishly lean toward Jimin and ask if he’d be able to take you home. You feel a little too relieved when he has no problem with it, already offering to come back with you tomorrow so you can pick up your car.

You order soju, desperate to have fun–to forget the missing presence of your friend.

At some point, the others mention how it’s a shame Jungkook couldn’t make it. You just smile, a little too quickly, a little too tightly, hoping no one lingers on it long enough to connect the dots.

It’s just another reminder of how much everything has changed.

By the time it’s been two weeks since you last saw Jungkook, you start getting the feeling he’s avoiding you. Surely, he can’t be that busy to miss every single hangout. 

On Tuesday, you all gather at Jimin’s place for a quick dinner consisting of junk food and a movie that always takes at least an hour to choose. Everyone in the group prefers different genres, which makes it harder to come to a decision.

On Thursday, you invite them over to your place instead.

Jungkook’s excuse for missing it comes in the form of a short message.

“I’m sorry, I can’t. Have an early shoot in the morning. You guys have fun x”

You’re not going to lie – you thought that if you were the one inviting everyone, he’d make sure not to miss it. To say the disappointment settling in your chest was painful would be an understatement.

You try to reason with yourself. He is busy. He wouldn’t lie about that. Even the guys say so. Even Maya knows about it – she mentioned it once while the two of you were on the phone, something about Namjoon needing help picking up a new piece of furniture. Jungkook was usually the first person people called when something heavy needed moving.

Even then, he had to turn him down.

It’s Friday. You should’ve gone straight home, taken the warm bath your body desperately needs to help your muscles relax. But when Jimin’s message pops up in the group chat, asking if any of you are up for fried chicken and beer, you find yourself debating whether you should go or not.

Much to your surprise, Taehyung can’t make it this time either – and, of course, neither can Jungkook.

When Jimin opens the door, blond hair messy and dressed in an oversized shirt, he welcomes you inside. The smell of fried chicken instantly hits you and your mouth waters.

“Finally,” he says dramatically, stepping aside to let you in. “I was starting to think you’d ditch me too.”

You snort quietly, slipping off your shoes as he closes the door behind you. “Tell me something about it.” you mumble under your breath.

You’ve been to Jimin’s apartment more times than you can count. Even if Jungkook’s place is where you usually hang out, you’re no stranger to Jimin’s apartment either.

Jimin’s place doesn’t have that stereotypical bachelor mess you’d expect from a guy living alone. Instead, the place smells faintly of clean laundry and whatever softener he uses, mixed with the lingering scent of fried food. The only exception is the gaming room down the hallway, permanently dim with LED lights and blackout curtains.

The apartment feels comfortable as always, warm lighting filling the space while a game is paused on Jimin’s large television screen.

Jimin walks toward the kitchen island and grabs a can of beer from the fridge before tossing it your way. “Catch.”

You give him a frowned look, thankful your instincts still kick in even at seven in the evening. “Are you trying to kill me?”

“And have Jungkook banging on my door?”

Jimin says it playfully, clearly teasing you. You roll your eyes, cracking the beer open.

“He’d have to be available first,” you mumble under your breath.

Jimin ignores your comment, though a slight grin still pulls at his lips. Cracking open his own beer, he takes a couple long chugs from the can.

The evening settles easily after that. You sit cross-legged on his couch, stealing fries from the takeout bag while Jimin talks about work, complaining about exhausting schedules and people seemingly incapable of doing the simplest tasks properly. 

Eventually, the topic shifts to your own job. 

“I swear he enjoys stressing me out,”

“Who? Yoongi?” he asks, already grinning and expression bright in recognition. “I kinda miss that guy.”

You stare at him in disbelief. “You miss being insulted every ten minutes?”

“There’s something oddly refreshing about him,” Jimin argues with a shrug. “At least he’s honest.”

“He’s insufferable.”

“Which is exactly why it’s a shame you hate him,” Jimin teases. “He’d make a nice addition to the group.”

The thought alone makes you laugh, memories of Jungkook and Yoongi childishly arguing with each other during the camping trip instantly resurfacing. The memories of those moments still feel fresh, almost as if they happened just last week. Thinking about them brings a wave of nostalgia mixed with something heavier you can’t quite name.

There’s never been a trip without some kind of drama, but this time it feels different. It’s only a reminder of how much your deal with Jungkook changed things.

Back then, the biggest issues were Taehyung and Jimin flirting a little too much and ending up with angry women ready to throw their drinks at them. Compared to now, those problems almost seem laughable.

“He’s avoiding me, isn’t he?”

Jimin looks taken aback by the silent question. After the laugh dies down, he looks as if he’s understanding what, or rather whom, you’re hinting at. Jimin isn’t stupid. He has to see that Jungkook has missed too many opportunities to hang out.

“Kook?” Jimin laughs, reaching for the cold fries that will probably taste like gum any minute now.

Nodding, you finish the beer. “I mean, he’s clearly not interested in hanging out.”

The moment the words leave your mouth, you notice the way Jimin’s eyes drift away. He clears his throat, suddenly far too focused on taking another long chug of his beer.

You’ve known him for years. You know his body language. And this – this is Jimin trying very hard not to accidentally say something he shouldn’t.

“Spill it.”

Jimin tries to look as if he has no idea what you’re talking about.

“Jimin,” you repeat through clenched teeth.

He looks almost apologetic then, scratching the back of his slightly messy blond hair.

“We hung out with Jungkook two days ago.”

You nearly choke on your own spit.

This whole time, you genuinely thought he was avoiding everyone. A part of you held onto the hope that maybe he truly was just busy with work, that he simply didn’t have the time.

“You what?” You try to keep the offense at bay, but after the one beer that’s already enough to affect you, you fail miserably.

“Listen, it wasn’t intentional. You were working, and Taehyung and I were already at his place when Jungkook called him about something and ended up stopping by. I swear, we’d never intentionally not include you.”

Trying to process the revelation, you know there’s nothing to be mad about. Hurt, maybe–but that has nothing to do with Jimin or Taehyung. All this time, you’d been sitting here thinking Jungkook had only been keeping in contact with everyone through messages.

You know it was random. Jungkook happened to come over, and it naturally turned into the three of them hanging out. There’s nothing wrong with that. You don’t need updates about everyone’s whereabouts every second of the day.

You were never the type to get upset when the guys spent time together without you. It’s normal. You’re all adults with different schedules, jobs, and responsibilities.

But still, something about it stings.

Jungkook had no problem randomly showing up at Taehyung’s place. Somehow, he found the time for that. Yet the last time you saw him was after you landed back from Hawaii, and since then, your only contact has been a handful of short messages that barely count as conversations.

For a brief second, you think about reaching out. Just calling him and getting rid of this awful uncertainty sitting in your chest.

But clearly, he’s not interested.

And no matter how much you try to stay reasonable about it, emotions get the best of you. Because the truth is – whether you want to admit it or not – you’re hurt. And maybe a little angry too.

“I’m not mad, Jimin,” you assure him, noticing the guilty look practically written all over his face. “So, he’s only avoiding me, huh?”

“No–I don’t know, I don’t think he is.”

“Come on, Jimin.” You let out a dry, unbelieving laugh that makes it obvious you don’t buy a single word of it.

“Well–what exactly happened in Hawaii?” 

You look slightly taken aback by the sudden question. It doesn’t sound invasive, though – more curious than anything else. Like Jimin is simply trying to piece the puzzle together on his own. Clearly, even he can sense the shift in your dynamic with Jungkook.

Your mouth opens, then closes again.

“Because before you guys went, everything felt normal.”

You know that. And you’re not ready to spill everything.

It’s not that you desperately want to hide it or keep it some shameful secret, but a part of you believes it’s simply too private. Too personal to be laid out and picked apart by multiple people. It’s not only your story to tell either – Jungkook is part of it too.

Talking about it out loud somehow makes everything feel far too real. Almost invasive.

If Maya hadn’t caught onto it herself, you probably wouldn’t have been nearly as honest with her either.

The person you actually need to talk to is Jungkook.

You genuinely thought the two of you ended things on a good note. You talked about it. Set boundaries. Tried to be mature about the entire situation.

But somehow, it’s only worse now.

And when you really think about it, the only thing truly happening is the lack of contact with Jungkook. That’s what’s making everything feel so unbearably wrong.

“He asked about you. You know?”

Your head snaps toward him instantly, heart briefly picking up at the revelation. For one stupid second, hope flickers inside you at the thought that maybe Jungkook still cares.

But then the irritation comes just as quickly, settling across your face in a frown. Are you supposed to feel touched by that?

“He’s got my number, just FYI.”

Jimin sighs, leaning back against the couch. “I don’t know what happened with you guys, though knowing you, I can imagine–”

You shoot him a nasty look.

“–but I know Jungkook never acts without a reason,” he finishes anyway. “I just don’t see some huge problem here. He does care.”

“Well, if he wants to ask about me,” you mutter bitterly, “he could do that by asking me. Not you guys.”

“Yeah, he should. I didn’t know you guys weren’t in touch at all. I guess we both were kind of surprised with Tae when he asked about you, but it wasn’t anything worth to be suspicious about. But now that you’re asking…”

You look away, unable to stop yourself from drifting into your thoughts. Jimin reaches out and gently squeezes your shoulder in comfort.

“He really does have a lot of work,” he says quietly. “His schedule’s completely packed. He hung out with us for less than an hour, if that helps at all.”

It doesn't exactly make you feel better. You would’ve been happier hearing that they actually got proper time together. But hearing Jimin confirm that Jungkook wasn’t lying about work does ease your mind a little.

Not that you truly believed he would purposely lie to you. Still, it felt strange. Jungkook always made time somehow – even if it was just for less than an hour, like he did with them.

“Just talk to him, yeah? He really seemed sorry about ditching us lately.”

You nod quietly, exhaustion slowly settling into your body alongside the alcohol buzzing lightly in your system. Jimin notices it immediately and doesn’t even bother asking whether you’re planning to drive home.

“Take the bed,” he says casually while collecting the empty cans from the coffee table. “You’re the only woman in the group. We have standards.”

You snort tiredly. “Your standards are fried chicken and cheap beer.”

“Exactly,” he replies proudly. “Premium treatment.”

The small exchange earns a genuine laugh out of you, easing some of the heaviness sitting in your chest. Still, later that night, once you’re alone in Jimin’s bedroom after taking a shower, the thoughts return all over again.

His room smells faintly like clean laundry and the cologne he always wears. Dressed in one of Jimin’s oversized shirts and a pair of soft cotton shorts to sleep in, you sit against the headboard for a while, absentmindedly staring at your phone resting beside you on the bed.

Maybe you really do have to talk to Jungkook alone.

Even if he’s genuinely busy. Even if he truly feels bad about missing out lately. Something still feels off. Because before all of this, he would’ve texted you daily without fail – and you would’ve done the same.

It’s not like you can place all the blame on him either. You haven’t exactly been reaching out much yourself.

But back then, Jungkook would practically blow up your phone if you disappeared for too long, always wanting to know if you were okay, if you got home safely, if you ate properly.

And maybe it’s selfish to miss that. Maybe it’s unfair to expect him to still act that way just because he always used to. Why should he be the only one making the effort?

Either way, there’s something hanging in the air.

Which is why you find yourself on the way to Jungkook’s place the next day. You went home only to change clothes and make yourself look presentable, as if your worries haven’t revolved around him this entire time.

You opted for high-waisted black pants and a casual white shirt, a mini bag hanging from one shoulder while the other hand carries a paper bag with flavored milk waiting inside for him. It’s a thoughtful gesture, perhaps even a more thought-out attempt to mend things between you.

Jungkook’s building has always been more secure, but recently they updated the system. Now, you need a code to get inside unless someone lets you in from upstairs. Jungkook mentioned it briefly during one of the dinners in Hawaii, complaining about how annoying it was whenever he forgot the code after late schedules.

Thankfully, before you can even think about calling him, someone exits the building. One of Jungkook’s neighbors – a man in his forties whose name you’ve never learned despite seeing him around countless times – holds the door open for you on his way out. A gym bag hangs from his shoulder, clearly on his way to work out.

The two of you exchange quick greetings before you step inside the familiar building, already knowing the way by heart.

On the way upstairs, standing inside the elevator, nervousness slowly starts creeping into your chest and you don’t even fully understand why.

You just hope he’s still home.

Jungkook sent a picture into the group chat this morning – his computer screen filled with editing software and dozens of photos scattered across it. So you hope he’s still dedicating his time to that, because this entire thing would feel like a complete failure if he wasn’t home.

The image of yourself sitting outside his apartment door like some abandoned puppy immediately makes you cringe. Especially at the thought of him coming home late and finding you there.

Stepping out of the elevator, you’re met with the familiar clean scent lingering through the hallway, one you’ve grown used to after coming here so many times.

Stopping in front of Jungkook’s door, you embarrassingly find yourself trying to listen for any kind of noise behind it, something that would confirm he’s actually home. But all you’re met with is silence.

Before anyone can catch you awkwardly peeping by his door, you quickly press the bell, hearing its faint sound through the thick, secure walls.

For a while, which is surely just a few seconds but feels like hours, you hear nothing. For a while – surely only a few seconds, though it feels much longer – you hear nothing. Knowing how well Jungkook’s heavy door isolates sound, you bite the inside of your cheek and wait patiently.

Then the door lets out a soft beep before unlocking, and you’re completely unprepared when it swings open and reveals him.

He’s dressed in all black – an oversized t-shirt paired with shorts, unsurprising considering Jungkook always runs warm. His hair is freshly cut too, shorter than you remember.

But none of that is what truly catches your attention.

Your focus settles on his dark eyes that slightly widen the moment they land on you standing in front of his door. His lips part just a little as he grips the handle, simply staring at you for a second too long.

Well, that’s not exactly the reaction you were hoping for.

So you end up being the first one to speak.

“Hi.”

His gaze slowly drifts over your appearance as if he’s still trying to process the fact that you’re actually standing there.

“Hi,” he finally says back.

“Sorry for showing up unannounced. I wasn’t sure if you were still home.”

For a brief moment, he looks confused by how you’d know that, but realization quickly settles across his face. The picture in the group chat. Of course you saw it.

He knew you read the message.

He just clearly wasn’t expecting you to show up at his door.

And for a split second, you feel oddly satisfied by how caught off guard he looks. Because this way, he can’t really avoid you anymore.

Unless he decides to close the door in your face.

“Are you still working? Can I come in?”

He clears his throat before opening the door wider. “Yeah, come in.”

You brush past him, instantly greeted by the familiar comfort of his home mixed with the scent of freshly made coffee. But even stronger than that is his cologne. Despite not smelling it for the past two weeks or so, it immediately brings a strange sense of comfort and familiarity.

Slipping the bag off your shoulder, you place it onto the small seat by the shoe rack. Still holding the paper bag in your hand, you realize you never let go of it.

“Oh, I brought you something.”

Turning around, you find Jungkook quietly watching you, his attention fully on you without saying a word. His eyes drop to the paper bag as you hand it over.

He pulls out the bottle of flavored milk, instantly recognizing his favorite flavor before placing it back inside.

“Thanks,” he says softly. “Will come in handy.”

You bite your lower lip, and Jungkook’s eyes instantly drop to the movement. He stays awfully silent, and you can’t tell whether he’s still shocked by your sudden appearance or simply not too pleased about it.

“I’m sorry if I barged in here unannounced. If it’s not a good time, I could–”

“No, it’s fine. Come in.”

He motions with his head, and you quietly follow him deeper into the apartment.

His place is clean as always, and aside from the two cups of coffee sitting on the coffee table, nothing seems out of the ordinary. Soft music drifts from one of the rooms – the one that used to be your room while you moved in temporarily. But as you step closer, you notice another presence.

It takes you a second to recognize the familiar face you haven’t seen since the camping trip. That trip really seems determined to keep haunting you lately, as if the universe desperately wants you to remember every single part of it.

Ester stands there with her hair dyed a soft reddish color, holding Jungkook’s prized possession – his camera.

“Oh, hi, Y/N! It’s so nice to see you again!” she greets cheerfully, genuinely looking happy to see you.

Jungkook stands close enough beside you for you to feel his presence, but you purposely avoid looking at him, not wanting him to see the complete shock written across your face. Ester is probably the last person you expected to see here. Honestly, the thought of finding anyone in his apartment never even crossed your mind.

Suddenly, showing up here unannounced feels incredibly stupid.

“Hey, Ester. Nice to see you too.” You force a small smile. “Are you guys working on something?”

The moment the question leaves your mouth, you mentally curse at yourself. It sounds oddly pointed, almost as if you’re trying too hard to casually confirm what exactly she’s doing here.

“I reached out to Jungkook. I got this job and thought I could use some help from a real professional here.” “Professional, huh?”

It’s the first time Jungkook grins since opening the door for you. The smile is faint, touched with quiet amusement, and Ester laughs before confidently nodding at her own statement.

You watch the interaction unfold and suddenly feel strangely out of place standing there. Especially when Ester looks effortlessly pretty in her short summer dress, completely comfortable in Jungkook’s apartment while you stand there feeling like an unexpected interruption.

“Well, if I knew you had someone over, I wouldn’t have come,” you say, already stepping slightly back. “I’ll let you guys work.”

Ester immediately shakes her head, dismissing the idea with an easy smile. Glancing down at the watch around her wrist, she looks back at you kindly.

“I was actually about to head home anyway,” she says. “We already went over everything I needed.”

She thanks Jungkook for helping her, and he smiles softly in return.

“Keep in touch,” he tells her while walking her toward the hallway. “You have my number in case you need help with anything, but I’m sure you’ll do great.”

You almost want to let out a bitter laugh at the mention of his number.

Because if you hadn’t shown up here today, he probably wouldn’t have reached out at all. And honestly, who knows how much longer the two of you would’ve kept tiptoeing around each other like this.

Actually, no.

To tiptoe around each other, there would first need to be some contact between you at all.

She bids both of you goodbye, and Jungkook walks her to the door. From where you stand, you only catch the faint sound of their goodbyes, mixed with quiet wishes of good luck and gratitude for his help.

The door clicks shut behind them.

Slowly, you make your way toward the living room, eyes landing on the untouched cup of coffee still sitting on the table. It looks like Ester barely even took a sip from it, and the realization makes you close your eyes briefly in annoyance at yourself.

“She wasn’t supposed to leave this early, was she?”

Jungkook notices the untouched coffee too, faint steam still rising from the cups as he answers.

“No.”

“Oh, fuck. I’m such an idiot.” You groan, throwing your head back in embarrassment.

“You’re not,” he says calmly. “Ester’s just too polite to say no to anything.”

You almost ask whether Ester was really here only for work, but the thought dies quickly in your head. Because it wouldn’t sound like harmless curiosity from a friend teasing him about having a woman over.

It would sound more like an ex still hung up on him and seconds away from causing a jealous scene.

So instead, you simply sigh. “Yeah… she’s a nice girl.”

Jungkook doesn’t comment on that. He stays quiet, only asking if you want something to drink.

Not even a drink feels capable of washing away your embarrassment right now, so you shake your head.

Silence settles between you after that.

And slowly, you start getting the feeling that Jungkook is purposely choosing not to say anything first, almost as if he’s waiting for you to explain why you suddenly showed up here.

Somehow, that irritates you a little. Because he’s not even questioning your presence.

He just watches you quietly, eyes lingering on you as if he’s studying you. Or maybe he simply doesn’t care enough to ask.

You hate that you can’t tell what he’s thinking anymore.

“Heard you and the guys hung out,” is all you say. It’s not meant to sound accusing, and your voice stays soft. “I know it wasn’t exactly planned.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” he confirms quietly.

Silence stretches between you again afterward. Your eyes drift around the apartment until they land on the framed family pictures standing on the shelf. In one of them, you’re there too alongside Taehyung and Jimin.

The picture was taken years ago.

You look so young in it. Every time you see that photo, you remember how Taehyung and Jimin used to joke that you were like their little sister. They always took special care of you, all of them did in their own ways. 

“Are you avoiding me, Kook?”

The question leaves your mouth before you can overthink it any further. Straight to the point.

Jungkook stares at you quietly. He doesn’t look surprised by the question. His eyes briefly drift away as he opens his mouth, clearly about to say something, but just like with Jimin – you know him too well.

“Oh my god,” you breathe out, realization instantly crashing into you. “You actually are.”

It comes out sounding more accusing than you intended.

But Jungkook doesn’t deny it either. He only sighs softly before closing his eyes for a moment, as if exhausted by this entire situation already.

“Why?”

You wish you didn’t sound this weak, but at least you’re being honest with him.

“I wasn’t lying,” Jungkook says quietly. “I really was busy.”

“You know I’m not stupid,” you tell him. “I know when something’s going on. And I know I wasn’t exactly reaching out either, but I just… I wanna know why.”

Jungkook pinches the bridge of his nose before quietly telling you; “I was giving you some space.”

“Space?” you repeat, disbelief immediately settling into your voice. “That’s what you thought I needed?”

He only stares at you.

“I’ve missed you.”

The confession leaves your mouth before pride can stop it.

Jungkook’s features soften almost instantly, and he lets out a quiet sigh.

“Maybe I was the one who needed space.”

The words hit you so unexpectedly it almost feels like being slapped across the face. You stare at him, unable to believe he actually said that out loud.

“Why?” Your voice cracks around the question.

Jungkook takes a small step closer then, finally holding your gaze properly. The eye contact feels almost too intense after weeks of distance. He gently shakes his head, already regretting the wording.

“That came out wrong,” he says softly. “The trip was overwhelming for both of us, and I thought maybe we just needed some time to relax.”

“Relax?” you nearly whine, frustration and hurt mixing together embarrassingly fast. “You suddenly cut me off, Jungkook. You’ve never done that before.”

The second the words leave your mouth, you realize how childish you probably sound.

But at the same time, something inside your chest painfully cracks at the realization that this is actually happening.

“I really did have a lot of work to catch up on,” he says. “I’ve taken too much onto my shoulders lately.”

“Kook, that’s an excuse and you know it.”

Your voice softens despite the frustration bubbling underneath it.

“No matter how busy you’ve always been, you still texted me at least. And I know I can’t expect you to always be the one reaching out first–that’s on me too, because I should’ve reached out sooner.”

You shake your head lightly, trying to gather your thoughts.

“It’s not like it’s been months or anything. But… I just know–”

Before you can even finish the sentence, your eyes betray you. Tears suddenly well up, and all it takes is one look into Jungkook’s dark eyes quietly watching you for everything to feel far too overwhelming.

Both of you know what this is really about.

It doesn’t matter that it’s only been around two weeks of barely any direct contact. The two of you have never been like this before.

“God,” you mutter under your breath with a shaky sniffle, trying not to cry.

The second Jungkook notices it, he steps closer.

“You said I wouldn’t lose you.”

“You’re not losing me,” he assures softly. His fingers carefully tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, and the simple touch almost hurts with how much you missed it.

“Then why does it feel like I am?”

Jungkook doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he pulls you into his arms, wrapping them tightly around you. Instantly, you bury your face into his t-shirt, relaxing into his warmth like your body remembers him before your mind can even process it.

You really don’t want to let go.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs honestly, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. Resting his cheek against your hair, he gently sways the two of you side to side in a comforting motion. “I never wanted you to feel like this. I thought I was doing us a favor.”

“Well, you weren’t,” you mumble against his chest, earning a quiet chuckle from him.

“Yeah,” he sighs softly. “That’s on me.”

“Kook.”

“Hm?”

“Promise me you won’t do that again.”

You pull away just enough to look at him properly. He looks unfairly perfect. Smooth skin freshly shaved, dark eyes softened by concern, and even the tiny scar beneath his left cheek somehow brings you comfort through its familiarity.

You’ve seen that scar from much closer distances than any best friend ever should have.

“I promise.”

And for now, it feels like a soft balm over your scattered chest.

The next time you see each other is at one of the bars you’ve visited a couple of times with your friends. It’s the usual spot the guys choose alongside Maya. Tonight, though, it’s different. It’s the night of both Namjoon’s and Maya’s bachelor and bachelorette parties.

It’s refreshing that they decided to meet with everyone first before it’s time for the ladies and gentlemen to go their separate ways. One of Namjoon’s only requests was no strippers or anything too crazy like a typical bachelor party. The guys agreed, but since Taehyung is attending, you have a feeling something crazy is bound to happen anyway. He’d never let a night like this stay completely tame.

When the no-strippers rule first came up, Taehyung looked genuinely disappointed. His argument was simple: it’s not every day one of your friends gets married. Even so, no one is willing to tell you what they actually have planned for Namjoon.

Since Namjoon isn’t interested in any of the stereotypical bachelor party traditions, Maya decided, out of respect for not only her soon–to–be husband but also their marriage, that she doesn’t want any strippers either.

As the wedding draws closer, it’s sweet to see the two of them so in love, practically glued to each other even now as everyone gathers in the large reserved booth. Maya has invited some of her cousins and friends from back home, making the group even bigger than usual.

“Oh, come on. Not even a hint?” you whine, tonight’s plans becoming the main topic of conversation around the table.

Jungkook sits across the table, a small amused smile resting on his lips as he watches your latest attempt to squeeze any information out of them. Not even he gives away the secret.

It’s not like you’re the one who keeps bringing it up. They’re the ones talking about it, so why won’t they just say what they have planned? You’d happily tell them what you had planned, but Maya insisted on keeping it a secret just for the fun of it.

Poor Namjoon remains completely clueless. Since the guys planned everything, he’s probably the most innocent person sitting at the table.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Taehyung muses, not bothering to hide the smirk behind his whiskey glass before taking a slow sip.

All of the guys are dressed to the nines, turning heads the moment they walked into the bar. It doesn’t go unnoticed by Maya’s cousins either, whose attention perks up every time Jimin, Taehyung, or Jungkook say anything. You’d think you would’ve gotten used to it by now, and most of the time you simply ignore it, but it’s always the same whenever the group goes out.

To their credit, Maya’s cousins respectfully keep their attention away from Seokjin. The wedding band resting on his ring finger is more than enough to make it clear he’s off-limits.

“You men are evil,” Maya comments with a huff, nuzzling into Namjoon’s chest. He presses a soft kiss to the top of her head, hiding his smile in her hair.

Taehyung checks the watch around his wrist, the time for everyone to go their separate ways quickly approaching. “Don’t worry, we’ll bring your soon–to–be husband back in one piece.”

“Those words sound awfully strange coming out of your mouth,” you tease. He scoffs at you, though the faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips gives him away.

“You’re just jealous. I know you’d kill to be on our team tonight.”

Truthfully, you don’t mind it at all. Maya’s cousins seem genuinely nice, even if they mostly keep to themselves, chatting among each other as family tends to do. They have, however, spent a good portion of the evening shamelessly admiring your friends as if they’d been presented on silver platters.

You can’t really blame them. Seeing women sneak glances at your friends has become a normal part of going out together.

“Keep talking and the only thing I’m gonna kill is you.” You purse your lips at Taehyung, whose eyes instantly light up with excitement. He lives for this kind of back-and-forth, and you know he’s enjoying this side of you just as much as you enjoy giving it to him.

From the corner of your eye, you notice Aisha and Ada – Maya’s cousins – exchange a quick glance, clearly not expecting this kind of dynamic between the two of you.

Oh, they have no idea.

“Come get me.”

Namjoon lets out a laugh at the two of you, quickly followed by everyone else around the table. You huff dramatically, crossing your arms over your chest before leaning back in your seat with exaggerated annoyance.

“We’re going to have the time of our lives,” Maya says with a smug smile, holding up a finger decorated with the white bridal sash draped across her shoulder that proudly reads Bride. You all surprised her with it the moment she and Namjoon walked into the bar hand in hand, looking as in love as ever. “You boys are going to wish you were there with us.”

Suddenly, Maya reaches for a paper bag you somehow hadn't noticed before. You did see Aisha carrying it earlier, but you never really gave it a second thought. Now, watching Maya pull it onto the table with a mischievous smile, you have a feeling you probably should have.

“Since all of my girls here are single, I don’t want to ruin your fun just because I’m about to get married,” Maya says with a grin. “I’m going to be a happily married woman soon, but I hope we’ll still have nights like this–just us girls, celebrating for no reason at all.”

You already don’t like where this is going. Especially after hearing the word single.

Maya reaches into the paper bag and pulls out a silver tiara. Across the front, in glittering letters, is one simple word: Single.

You almost let out a whine.

Then you watch in disbelief as she pulls out another. And another. One for each of you.

Her cousins happily accept theirs, immediately placing them on their heads before flashing them toward the guys with playful smiles, almost as if expecting them to take the hint. They giggle amongst themselves, whispering something to each other.

Meanwhile, you simply stare at Maya's outstretched hand holding your tiara, your smile becoming increasingly crooked.

She notices the look of pure disgust on your face, nudging the tiara closer.

You sigh dramatically before reluctantly taking it from her, earning a triumphant smile as she settles back into Namjoon's embrace. His arm instinctively wraps around her waist.

Taehyung lets out a quiet cackle the second he sees the tiara in your hands. You eye the thing as if it might bite you.

Jimin, on the other hand, looks more skeptical. You catch him subtly glancing toward Jungkook before quickly looking away again.

You don't think much of it. The guys have still been walking on eggshells around the two of you ever since Hawaii.

The truth is, you simply hate being labeled single like it's an open invitation for every man in the room to come try his luck. Going out already means dealing with enough unwanted attention, and you don't mean that in an arrogant way. Drunk men can be relentless.

One of the unexpected perks of always hanging out with the guys is that most people assume you're dating one of them–or they're simply too intimidated to approach. The guys have always been protective of you. They know exactly how some men can be.

And with them around, you've never once questioned whether you were safe.

“Come on, put it on.” Maya nudges you, something mischievous dancing behind her eyes.

Letting out a long, defeated sigh, you place the tiara on top of your head.

The moment you do, you catch Jungkook's gaze across the table. He isn't looking at you. His eyes are fixed on the silver tiara resting on your head.

He knows exactly what you're thinking. He knows you. He knows you've never been a fan of strangers approaching you with only one intention in mind – to get their hands on you.

“Are you playing matchmaker tonight, Maya?” Taehyung muses, clearly finding the whole thing amusing. Out of everyone at the table, he’s probably the last person to look for anything long-term, which is exactly why he finds it so funny.

“Maybe,” Maya says with a mischievous smile. “You never know. The love of your life could be sitting in a bar somewhere right now. Who knows? Maybe the next wedding we’ll be planning is one of yours.”

Taehyung lets out an exaggerated sound of disgust. “Don't put that curse on me.” He clutches his chest dramatically.

You, Jungkook, and Jimin burst into laughter. Mostly because, out of everyone at the table, Taehyung is probably the only person you can genuinely picture still breaking hearts well into his eighties.

Soon enough, it's time to say your goodbyes. Everyone finishes their drinks, and the last sip leaves a familiar burn at the back of your throat as the alcohol settles warmly in your stomach.

You're not planning on getting wasted, though. If anything, you have a feeling you'll end up being the responsible one of the group. Maya has made it very clear she intends to make the most of this night as an unmarried woman, and judging by the excited looks on her cousins' faces, they don't seem interested in holding themselves back either.

You don't want them to.

That's the whole point of tonight–to party, drink. You'll definitely join in, just... carefully.

You know yourself a little too well. Sometimes, once you start drinking, it's surprisingly hard to stop. And that usually ends with you throwing up everything you've consumed in the past twenty-four hours – sometimes it even feels like you're bringing back Christmas dinner for good measure.

As Maya and Namjoon share a long goodbye kiss, you swear they're seconds away from forgetting the rest of you are even there. For the first time, you catch a glimpse of something almost hungry in the way Namjoon looks at her. He's always adored Maya, but he's usually much more restrained about showing it in public.

Your eyes widen in disbelief, and you quickly look away, feeling oddly like you're intruding on a private moment.

When your gaze lands elsewhere, you find Jungkook already watching you. A knowing smirk tugs at the corner of his lips, clearly amused by the horrified expression on your face.

Especially considering you and Jungkook used to be far worse whenever you were alone and out of your friends' sight. And the two of you weren't even the ones getting married.

So why do your cheeks suddenly warm beneath Jungkook's gaze?

Jungkook traded his usual oversized clothes for tailored black trousers and a black satin shirt, the top buttons left carelessly undone. The glossy fabric catches the dim lights of the bar, making him look effortlessly expensive.

Before you can say anything, he steps closer. His eyes immediately find the silver tiara perched on your head, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Without a word, he reaches up and straightens it where it sits slightly crooked, his fingertips careful not to disturb your hair.

As his hand falls away, his eyes naturally drift down to your lips, painted with a soft brown lipstick that somehow complements the silky blush pink dress hugging your figure. The satin fabric catches the light with every small movement, the delicate straps leaving your shoulders bare while the fitted silhouette flows effortlessly down your body.

“Be safe, okay?” he hums.

“You know I’m used to having my personal security team around,” you joke.

Jungkook huffs out a quiet laugh. “Well, I’m one call away.”

“I’m not gonna call you, Kook. You guys have a good time, okay?” you smile, ready to walk away for your own sake.

Before you can, Jungkook instinctively reaches for your hand. His fingers slip between yours for just a second, giving them a reassuring squeeze.

“If anything happens,” he says, his voice leaving no room for argument, “you call me. You hear me?”

He's serious, searching your eyes for genuine agreement before the two of you go your separate ways.

You give him a small nod.

It isn't enough.

His brows knit together ever so slightly, waiting.

“I will,” you assure him with a soft sigh. “Now go have fun. You're off-duty tonight.”

You try to lighten the mood with the joke, but it doesn't quite land. Jungkook still doesn't look entirely convinced. It's not that he thinks you need a babysitter. He simply can't seem to shake the instinct to look out for you.

“Hey, lovebirds,” Taehyung calls out, not bothering to hide the grin on his face. “Not to interrupt whatever friendly thing you've got going on here, but even Maya and Joon managed to pull themselves away from each other. We're heading out.” He jerks his head toward the exit. “Go find yourself your future husband.”

“Tae, I swear–” you warn, fixing him with a glare.

Taehyung cackles, immediately throwing both hands up in surrender. He knows exactly how to get under your skin, and he never misses the opportunity.

Jungkook lets out a quiet laugh before Taehyung and Jimin begin pulling him away toward the exit. Still walking backward, he points at you one last time.

“Remember,” he calls, “one call away?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Okay, security–” Looking past him, you raise your voice toward Jimin and Taehyung. “Would you take this man outside? He's getting obsessive.”

The three of them burst into laughter. Jungkook only shakes his head, allowing himself to be dragged farther away.

Just before he disappears through the door, you quietly mouth, “One call away.”

He can't hear you.

But he reads it on your lips.

The slight furrow between his brows finally eases, and a satisfied smile appears on his face. He gives you a small salute before disappearing from view.

You can't help but laugh to yourself until the guys are completely out of sight.

“Not a word.”

Turning around, you find Maya standing there with her arms crossed and a knowing smile stretched across her face. You immediately point a warning finger at her, trying to hide the grin threatening to take over your own lips.

Maya lifts both hands in surrender.

“Fine,” she says innocently. “Let's get this night started, girls.”

Excited squeals erupt around you as everyone grabs their bags, following Maya toward the exit.

Maya stays true to her words and doesn't spoil anything about where you're headed. As eager as you are, you know the more you ask, the more she'd enjoy watching you squirm in anticipation. From the looks of it, the girls seem to be just the same. Maya actually has a lot in common with the boys, almost making it feel as if she's filling their place in their absence.

The difference now is that you're actually the one squirming the least for answers, watching the smug smile on Maya's face as she sits comfortably in the rented limousine she'd somehow managed to book. She's always been a party girl, and you have a feeling tonight is going to be anything but a quiet tea party. The girls keep throwing guesses her way, but Maya remains resistant to all their whining, laughing the entire time as she clearly enjoys the push and pull.

As you watch the streets drift by through the tinted window, you catch your reflection and the soft brown lipstick painted across your lips. Jungkook invades your mind, and the memory of his dark eyes dropping to them brings you back to the moment that happened not that long ago. His insistence on making sure you'd be safe and call him if anything happened makes your heart warm, just like it always has whenever he shows you that kind of attention and care. But tonight, it also skips with excitement. Even though you're excited for what's about to come and ready to enjoy the night, your secret wish is that he were here.

"...Any guesses?"

The sound of your name pulls your attention away from the busy streets outside. Looking up, you find everyone staring at you, Maya tilting her head as if wondering what has you so quiet.

Maya's a friend, and you've been very honest with her. You've probably told her more than you ever did the boys, which makes sense because she's not as involved in the little inner circle the four of you have. Plus, her perspective as another woman has become some sort of peace of mind. Even though she can sometimes be a little too honest – perhaps even invasive when it comes to voicing her blunt opinions, which you've grown used to dodging or arguing against – she's kind, bold, and wild. Hence the reason she doesn't understand your fear of screwing up the biggest and most important friendship you have.

You're not going to lie, sometimes you listen to her like she's the tiny devil sitting on your shoulder, encouraging you to stop overthinking and simply enjoy the moment. Maybe her influence played a small part in you getting carried away.

"Nah, you wouldn't tell us either way," you laugh, making Maya's smile widen as she shrugs. "We'll find out soon enough."

"Now that's the vibe!" Maya laughs. "Don't get me wrong, watching you all beg for answers has been pretty entertaining."

"So, Maya..." Ada begins, making the rest of the girls sit up a little straighter in their seats. The soft pink ambient lights glow around the limousine while the panoramic roof reveals a sky already sprinkled with stars. "Who's the hot guy?"

“More like... which one?” Zara giggles. Her deep brown skin glows beneath the pink ambient lights, and the mischievous sparkle in her eyes makes it obvious she's just as invested in interrogating Maya as everyone else. “You're gonna have to be more specific.”

They're all eager, almost as if they made a silent deal to interrogate Maya the moment the right opportunity came. They all smile, some gently nudging each other while wiggling their eyebrows. You can't help but feel a little out of place, watching the girls naturally gang up on Maya as if they'd planned this interrogation long before getting into the limousine.

“Jungkook was his name, wasn't it?” Ada says, tapping a finger against her chin as her cousin, Aisha, gently nudges her foot with the tip of her heel.

“Don't act like you don't remember his name.”

A round of laughter erupts throughout the limousine as Ada shamelessly shrugs, almost as if to say “worth a shot”. A quiet laugh escapes you too, though the mention of Jungkook's name makes your crossed leg begin to bounce.

The limousine stops at a red light, almost as if giving Maya the perfect moment to answer while everyone eagerly waits for whatever reaction she'll give.

“And what about the Taehyung guy?” Imani asks, absentmindedly twirling one of her neat braids over her shoulder before deciding to give it a shot.

Maya laughs, her eyes briefly finding yours, just as amused by the effect your friends have on everyone. Even Jimin's name gets thrown into the mix, and you're a little taken aback by how quickly they've remembered all of their names. You still struggle to remember theirs. Then again, you're not interested in them that way, so maybe it makes sense.

“Shh–” Ada hushes the others, her eyes sparkling as she wiggles her brows. “Is he single?”

“Are all of them?” Zara practically pleads, rubbing her palms together, making you mentally snort. They have a good sense of humor, but beneath all the jokes, it's obvious they genuinely want to know.

“There's no way they all are.” Naomi scoffs, clearly refusing to believe it.

“Okay, let's do this one by one. Let's start with Jungkook.” Ada raises a hand, her long, perfectly curled lashes fluttering as she bats them at Maya.

Maya leans back with a sigh, though the smile never leaves her lips. “I think that's a question for Y/N.”

The moment the words leave Maya's mouth, silence settles over the limousine. Only her playlist quietly fills the background as the car begins moving again. Every pair of eyes lands on you, making you uncross your legs as you sit up straighter. You shoot her a quick look, silently wondering why the hell she'd put you on the spot.

You can practically see their minds racing as they jump to the conclusion that you and Jungkook are something more. Realization slowly spreads across their faces before they're suddenly looking anywhere but at you, almost embarrassed that they've spent the past few minutes openly thirsting over him without even considering the possibility that the two of you might be together.

It's ridiculous. That's what it is. The thought alone.

You can almost see them replaying every interaction from the bar, searching for anything that might've hinted at something between you and Jungkook. Maybe a stolen kiss while they weren't paying attention.

Little do they know, a quick kiss would've been the least of what had happened between you two.

Snorting softly, unable to hide the fact that you see right through them, you shrug.

“He's single.” The words leave your mouth, simple and truthful all at once.

“Y/N's his best friend, so she'd know. Actually, she's good friends with all of them.”

They stare at you as if you've suddenly grown a second head. Maya's words clearly don't register with them at first. They simply can't wrap their heads around how you're friends with them. Just... friends.

They try to hide it, but you catch the subtle sigh of relief that passes between them before a few giggles follow. At least now they know they haven't been openly thirsting over your boyfriend.

“Jimin's taken,” you explain. “And Taehyung... well, unless you're looking to get your heart broken, I wouldn't bother. Relationships aren't really his thing. He's more of a hook-up and call it a day kind of guy.”

“We're here!” Maya claps enthusiastically as the driver pulls into the parking lot. Loud bass echoes through the night, colorful lights illuminating the amusement park ahead.

“An amusement park?” you ask, your voice instantly brightening. “You should've told us before we had drinks.”

“It's just the start, baby.” Maya smirks, ushering all of you out as soon as the limousine comes to a stop near the entrance. The vehicle is too long to pull in any farther. The driver lets you know he'll stay nearby until you're ready to leave.

“We're not staying here?” you ask, assuming she'd just call the driver once it was time to head to the next stop.

“I told you, it's just the start,” Maya reminds you with an amused smile. “This is only a stop. We'll go on a few rides, then we're changing locations.”

“Now I understand why you didn't let us plan the party.” You shake your head with a smile as Maya hooks her arm through yours, happily leading everyone toward the amusement park. You do make one thing clear – you refuse to go on anything that turns you upside down and will happily guard everyone's bags instead.

You spend the next hour hopping from one ride to another, the employees kind enough to let you skip the line for almost every attraction. Even the people waiting don't seem to mind once they notice Maya's oversized BRIDE sash and all of your SINGLE tiaras.

You feel like a clown wearing yours at times. You almost forget it's sitting on your head until you catch a group of young men smirking and bowing dramatically in your direction from across the walkway. You roll your eyes while the girls burst into laughter, clearly loving every second of it.

Now you're left carrying everyone's bags, your hands growing heavier by the minute as you wonder if the girls packed actual bricks. While they're riding something far too extreme for your liking, you fish your phone out to kill some time. Ada volunteered to grab the two of you something to drink and is currently waiting at a nearby stand, chatting with one of the guys in line behind her.

As your screen lights up, the name Kook appears.

Embarrassingly, you unlock it a little too quickly.

Kook: Safe?

Instead of replying right away, you record a short video of the girls sitting at the top of the ride, waiting to be dropped. A second later, they plunge downward, their screams audible even over the pounding music.

You send it.

“video.mp4 I am.”

Locking your phone, you keep it in your hand while watching people laugh, scream, and stumble away from the ride with wobbly legs.

Barely a minute later, it vibrates again.

Kook: good choice on your part

Your fingers move before you can think.

“please, you would've been up there with them”

Kook: of course i would 😜

“what are you guys up to?”

Kook: nothing good tbh, went to an escape room Kook: tae kept cheating, joon almost solved all the clues

“sounds like them”

Kook: who now

“actually both of them lol”

Kook: imagine.jpg

Opening it, you immediately spot Taehyung in the background, pouting dramatically with what looks like clue papers stuck to his forehead. Namjoon scratches his head in concentration while Jimin sits on a nearby chair looking completely baffled.

Then your eyes drift back to Jungkook.

He's grinning at the camera, the tip of his tongue caught between his teeth as he throws up a shaka with one hand.

You can't help but smile.

“suddenly i'm happy with our party”

Kook: rude Kook: how was the ride? joon mentioned he rented a limousine for y'all

“unpleasantly interrogating”

For a moment, you wonder whether you should tell him the truth. You probably will eventually anyway. Somehow, though, you want to keep the conversation going a little longer.

Kook: how so

“the girls had their eyes set on all of you”

Kook: wow really

“don't act surprised jeon”

Kook: 😜

“Come on, here.” A voice nearby catches your attention, making you glance toward the ride. You see the rest of the girls making their way down the steps. Maya has an arm wrapped around Zara's frame, who looks like she's about to be sick.

Locking your phone and slipping it back into your purse, you hurry over to them as Zara breathes heavily. You open your mouth to ask if she's okay, but before a single word comes out, Zara suddenly turns away and throws up onto the grass.

You grimace as the faint smell reaches your nose.

Maya doesn't look much better as she gently pats Zara's back, clearly regretting being the one who insisted on this particular ride. Thankfully, Zara only throws up the drinks she'd had earlier.

The other girls immediately gather around her, asking if she's okay. Just then, Ada returns with the drinks, stopping in her tracks at the sight in front of her. After a brief hesitation, she quietly hands you yours.

“Thanks,” you mumble, not entirely sure you're up for lemonade anymore. Still, you take a few careful sips, hoping the citrus scent will overpower the smell lingering in the air.

“Are you okay?” Maya asks gently, pulling a packet of tissues from her purse and handing it to Zara.

“Hell yeah.” Zara grins after wiping her mouth. “What's our next stop?”

Without waiting for an answer, she steals the lemonade straight from Ada's hands to rinse her mouth.

You stifle a laugh as Ada's face immediately falls into a pout. Offering her your untouched lemonade instead, you watch her happily accept it.

“That's what I'm talking about!” Maya cheers, throwing one hand into the air before pulling out her phone to call the driver and let him know you're ready to head to the next stop.

As you're all seated again, you somehow find yourself in the middle of a conversation about relationships. Ada talks about the toxic relationship she got out of and how she's been single for about a year now. She sounds almost unhappy about it, and as you quietly listen to the conversation, they all seem dissatisfied with being single.

You have no idea where the obsession with women having to be in a relationship comes from. It's as if their whole world revolves around whether they're single or not. You know there's a lot of influence from society and probably social media too.

Zara gulps down an entire bottle of water before asking the driver for a piece of gum. She confides in all of you that she was cheated on, something that really messed her up. It happened recently and, because of it, she doesn't want a relationship right now, though she's not completely opposed to one if it happens naturally.

The rest of the girls are single too, once again confessing how happy they are for Maya and her upcoming marriage, hoping they'll reach that stage of their lives someday.

It's somehow what all of you dream of – to find that one person you get to spend the rest of your life with.

Even you.

And that's saying something, considering Taehyung likes to call you the number one hater of men.

“What about you, Y/N? Are you single?” Imani asks, probably noticing you haven't really participated in the conversation. Then again, neither has Maya, but everyone already knows where she stands.

“Mmm... yeah.”

Maya sips her champagne, raising a brow when you shoot her a glare before shaking it off and offering the girls a smile.

“I was in a relationship,” you shrug, “it wasn't meant to be.”

“What's up with your friend group? Everyone's single.” Aisha laughs, not mockingly, but almost in disbelief. “Y'all are hot, and from what I can tell, you seem like an amazing woman.”

Not entirely sure what earned you such a big compliment, you smile at Aisha in gratitude, letting out a quiet laugh as the others nod in agreement.

“Aish, it's not like there's no interest in Y/N,” Maya snorts, carefully setting her champagne glass down just as the limousine rolls over a speed bump. “She just has a very particular taste in men.”

She wiggles her brows at you.

You snort at that, finding it a little amusing. Maybe Maya's had one glass of champagne too many because the girls suddenly look even more curious.

“Okay, now I'm even more curious.” Imani props her elbow on her knee and rests her chin in her palm, looking completely invested in finding out your type.

“Tall, tattooed, hot, willing to do anything for her, fucking amazing in bed–”

“Maya, let her talk!” Aisha laughs.

Shooting Maya another glare, knowing exactly who she just described, you simply shrug before offering the girls a sweet smile.

“Maya pretty much summed it up.”

“I mean... who doesn't love tall, tattooed, hot men? I sure as fuck do,” Ada comments, earning a chorus of nods and agreement from the others.

The conversation quickly shifts as everyone starts sharing their ideal type of man. Unlocking your phone, you check the time, wondering how much longer the drive will be.

From the corner of your eye, you catch Maya watching you, hiding a laugh behind her hand.

You simply shake your head and laugh to yourself before looking away.

You should've seen it coming.

“Hope you didn't think we wouldn't properly party,” Maya says, leaning over your shoulder from behind as you stare at the club in front of you. The party already seems to be in full swing, all of you arriving at the perfect time.

The girls squeal excitedly, ready to add a little more alcohol to their systems as you all head inside. The club isn't nearly as packed as you expected. Maya tells you they limit the number of people they let in, which is why it never feels overly crowded.

Even so, as you make your way down the stairs, you still have to squeeze through plenty of bodies to reach the main bar. People stare and whistle at your group – some cheering for the bride to be, others eyeing her single friends, yourself included.

You scoff when you catch one guy openly checking out Aisha's ass. Turning around to shoot him a nasty look, you realize his eyes immediately drift to yours just as shamelessly.

If this is what the rest of the night is going to look like, you're ripping this tiara off right in front of them.

And maybe you need that alcohol too.

Fortunately, once you've finished your drinks in record time, you make your way to the dance floor. People naturally form a circle around Maya, encouraging her to dance in the middle while they cheer her on. You join in, genuinely happy for her and soaking in the moment.

The night is amazing. Your feet already hurt, but you can't stop dancing.

At some point, Maya tugs you into the circle, doing the same with her friends as you dance away the rest of the song. By the time the next one starts playing, you're all laughing, slightly out of breath. As the circle slowly breaks apart, you're about to look for somewhere to sit down.

The moment you look up, it takes you a second to spot Namjoon. Maya lets out a loud squeal of surprise before throwing herself into her soon–to–be husband's arms.

“What are you doing here?” you hear her ask, though Namjoon's answer is muffled as your eyes drift toward the familiar group standing behind him.

They stop on one particular pair.

Amusement flickers across Jungkook's face as he crosses his arms over his chest.

You laugh, making your way toward him while, somewhere behind you, the girls erupt into another round of giggles and excited squeals at the guys' sudden appearance. Their chatter instantly picks back up.

Meanwhile, you're still trying to catch your breath, the back of your neck sticky with sweat. Jungkook, on the other hand, looks neat–not a single hair out of place. Of course he does. He's not the one who's been dancing the night away. While one of you managed to throw up and the rest of you danced yourselves half to death, they spent the evening playing an escape room. You can only hope you don't smell like sweat.

“You've got to be kidding me,” you say in utter disbelief as Jungkook's smile slowly spreads.

“See? The tiara's still holding up,” he says with amusement, lightly flicking the tiara perched on your head.

“Don't tempt me.”

He laughs at that.

“How long have you guys been here?” you ask, catching the knowing smirk tugging at his lips.

“You mean, did we see you girls dancing?” he teases. “Yeah... long enough to catch most of it.”

“Oh, don't act so smug.” You nudge him lightly in the chest, but before you can pull away, he catches your wrist, his thumb absentmindedly brushing over your pulse.

“Any nice suitors?”

“If you don't count one guy staring at my ass the second we walked in here, then no.”

The sarcasm dripping from your voice makes Jungkook laugh.

You shoot him a glare, silently asking what exactly he finds so funny.

“Well, you do have a nice ass.”

Smiling up at him as if he'd just said the most romantic thing in the world, you muse, “You think so?”

He snorts in amusement, finally noticing the obvious glow in your eyes and the slight stumble in your stance that's not entirely caused by the heels you're wearing.

He knows that much.

“How much have you had to drink?”

You shrug, putting a little distance between the two of you.

“Apparently not enough.”

You've only had three drinks, but the third one was strong. Thanks to none other than Maya, who'd leaned across the bar to whisper something into the bartender's ear.

“You guys wanna grab a drink?”

Another presence appears beside you.

Not one, but two.

Aisha and Ada stop beside you, their eyes beaming at Jungkook as they practically look right through you.

“Oh, no.” Jungkook smiles politely. “I wouldn't want to intrude on your girls' night. We'll probably head to another club to celebrate.”

You find yourself a little annoyed by that. Just like the girls, who sigh in disappointment, clearly not ready to lose the chance to spend more time with him.

“Well...” You glance over your shoulder toward the dance floor. “Maya's already dancing with Namjoon. You might as well stay for a while.”

It comes out more like a suggestion than an invitation. One Jungkook would be rude to decline. Then again, knowing him, he'd somehow find the most respectful way to do it anyway. They'd be head over heels for him in no time.

Jungkook looks around, searching for the rest of the guys. He finds them not far away, already chatting with the rest of the girls from your group.

“Yeah,” he says. “I think I could stay for a while.”

They don't even try to hide their excitement as they quickly usher him toward the bar.

Looking behind you, you find the couple dancing slowly despite the fast, rhythmic music, simply holding onto each other.

You smile.

There's nothing else to do but follow everyone toward the bar and finally have that drink you so desperately claimed you needed.

For the next thirty minutes, you find yourself listening to the girls chatting with the boys. And no matter how hard Jungkook tries to pull you into the conversation, all that leaves your mouth are hums and short answers.

One minute you're approached by a guy who, at first glance, looks like he has his life together. That illusion disappears the second the smell of weed hits your nose and his drunken gaze spends more time staring at your cleavage than your eyes – which isn't even that impressive to begin with. Your dress is short, sure, but still perfectly decent.

As soon as he leaves, yet another guy you've turned down after asking you to dance, you rip the tiara off your head in annoyance.

Maya's too busy with Namjoon anyway, practically glued to him.

“Wow, what a coincidence, right?” she says after coming over for another glass of water. “Almost like it was meant to be.”

“None of them up to your unbelievable standards?” Jungkook leans toward you the one second the girls' attention isn't completely on him.

“If you think my standards are some junkie who can barely look me in the eyes instead of my tits, then you really think low of me.”

Jungkook snorts.

“Wow. Someone's snappy.”

“I'm not snappy!” you exclaim, leaning back in your seat as you stomp your foot beneath the table, making him raise a brow.

“What about your standards, hm? Do you see any girl you like?”

He simply stares at you with an amused grin, pursing his lips to one side.

“You mean any of Maya's friends?”

You shrug, mimicking the face he just made.

“For example.”

“Like them trying to get my attention?”

You chuckle.

“Of course you noticed.”

He smiles.

“Is that why you've been so snappy?”

You clench your jaw, shooting him a dirty look.

“I'm not snappy!” you hiss, nudging his leg beneath the table. Him sitting next to you is dangerous. So is the fact you have no idea which drink you're about to reach for next.

“Go have fun, Jungkook.”

“I am having fun.” He shrugs.

“Take one of them dancing. Trust me, they'd want nothing more than that. They couldn't stop gushing about you on the way to the amusement park and all the way here.”

“And what about you?” he asks, a teasing glint in his dark eyes as the arm resting along the back of the booth finds your hair. He absentmindedly twirls one of the strands around his finger.

Just like he still has you wrapped around his.

“Were you gushing about me?”

“Oh, please.” You scoff, placing your palm against his chest to nudge him once again. “Should I?”

He smiles.

“You could.”

“Go have fun, Jeon. I'm fine. I could just use some food.” You rub your stomach, feeling it filled with alcohol instead of anything solid. They do have crackers, chips – just something to snack on. But what you really crave is something greasy. Something filling. Something that could soak up at least a little of the alcohol.

“There's a kebab place around the corner,” he says. “Saw it on our way here.”

For a brief second, you eye him from the corner of your eye, suddenly interested in this kebab place.

Instead of giving in to the suggestion, you sigh.

“Go dance, Kook.”

“Well, I don't want to.” He leans back in the booth, looking annoyingly comfortable as you narrow your eyes at him.

He stares right back.

“I thought we made it pretty clear that you pushing me into things doesn't usually end well.”

Shit.

Well, you deserved that.

It's almost like Hawaii all over again. You don't take his words personally because they aren't meant to hurt, nor are they said that way. It's a gentle reminder delivered in the gentlest tone possible, even though there's a little sass behind it, just like Jungkook always manages.

“For your information,” you cross your arms, “it was a suggestion. Not a push.”

“Mhm, sure.” He hums, hiding his smile behind the rim of his beer.

A burst of laughter erupts somewhere at the table, both of you too caught up in your conversation to know what caused it.

“Wanna dance?”

She takes her chance, and thank God he doesn't think you had anything to do with this.

The two of you look at her, even though the question was clearly directed at Jungkook.

He glances back at you, and now you're the one hiding a smirk, shrugging.

You know he's too polite to decline.

“You're a great dancer, Kook. Show Aisha your moves,” you tease, catching the way he runs his tongue over his bottom lip before holding your gaze for a few seconds.

He chuckles, shaking his head before turning to the hopeful Aisha.

Bless her confidence, though.

“Sure,” he says.

You stand, giving them enough room to do the same. As Jungkook gets to his feet, he brushes past you, a little closer than necessary, and you catch the familiar scent of his cologne.

He waits for Aisha to slide out of the booth before the two of them disappear onto the dance floor.

Thank God you don't have to watch that.

Looking back toward the table, you find Taehyung already watching you, his lips pursed as he slowly gives you a thumbs-down.

Rolling your eyes, you silently tell him to fuck off.

“Y/N, my friend! Let's dance!” Taehyung calls out far louder than necessary, making sure everyone at the table hears him.

You catch Maya's friends watching in disappointment, and, strangely enough, you do feel a little bad for them.

“I don't want to dance.”

“Yes, you do,” he says, already on his feet as he grabs your wrist and pulls you out of the booth.

You start whining all the way to the dance floor.

One of Pitbull's songs starts blasting through the speakers, one you've danced and screamed the lyrics to together more times than you can count.

Before long, you're laughing, slowly getting into it despite complaining that your feet hurt.

“I'm hungry!” you whine, still wrapping your arms around Taehyung's neck as his hands settle on your hips.

He rolls his hips perfectly, the dance close but still respectful.

You're not sure Maya's friends see it that way, judging by the looks they exchange.

But who cares?

People already think you fucked Jungkook – which isn't exactly false. Only the tense is different.

What's one more misunderstanding?

You and Taehyung dance through the rest of the song, laughing and singing until it fades into the next track.

Just as the two of you decide you need a break, Jungkook walks past with Aisha close behind him, looking even more smitten than she did back at the table.

“Having fun?” he asks, a teasing smile tugging at his lips.

“She's hungry,” Taehyung chimes in, brushing past your shoulder and leaving you alone with Jungkook.

Aisha pauses for a second, but Taehyung says something to her that makes her smile before she follows him back toward the table.

“Come on,” Jungkook says. “Let's go eat.”

You let out a small laugh.

“What?”

“You're hungry.”

“I know. I can deal with it. Go have fun.”

“Y/N.” Jungkook frowns.

“Jungkook,” you reply in the exact same tone.

“I can take care of myself,” you remind him, chiming in.

He glances to either side before lifting both hands in a small shrug. 

“I never said you couldn't,” he points out. “Now don't be difficult. Let's go.” 

With that, he turns on his heel, leaving you standing there in disbelief for a few seconds before you hurry after him, just in time to hear him asking if anyone else wants food or feels like joining you.

The girls have already disappeared back onto the dance floor. Only Zara and Ada stay behind, deciding they'll just order something from the club instead. The guys aren't hungry, Jungkook informing you they'd grabbed something to eat before heading to the escape room.

The moment you step outside, the fresh night air hits your face, making you instinctively take a deep breath. You ask him how the escape room went, learning they all ended up in the same group and already agreed they'd have to come back someday and split into two teams instead, especially since the place offered a competitive mode. It wouldn't be Jungkook if he didn't enjoy a little competition.

In return, you tell him about the amusement park, briefly mentioning Zara throwing up after one of the rides and how the employees let all of you skip most of the lines thanks to Maya's BRIDE sash. Before long, you've already reached the kebab place tucked just around the corner. You order your food and barely wait a minute before taking your first bite.

It's always the first bite that's the best, a satisfied moan slipping from your lips. Deciding to eat outside, the two of you step back onto the sidewalk, both of you knowing eating a kebab can get messy. Jungkook doesn't mind the fresh air after spending most of the evening indoors. While you happily eat, leaning against the brick wall of the building, he slowly paces up and down the sidewalk, watching the street that's still alive despite the late hour.

Once you've had enough bites to satisfy your hunger, your eyes naturally drift toward him. He looks like he stepped straight out of a magazine. One look at you and anyone could tell you've been celebrating something – your hair is a little messy, your makeup no longer as fresh, your face hot from dancing. Jungkook, meanwhile, somehow still looks effortlessly put together.

“You have a nice ass too,” you comment, wiping the corner of your mouth. Jungkook comes to an abrupt stop, his eyes meeting yours before a laugh finally escapes him.

“Where is this coming from?”

You shrug before handing him the rest of your kebab. There's nothing left but meat anyway. It always ends up at the bottom, and you've always preferred the vegetables and all the dressing. Jungkook knows exactly what that means, taking a generous bite without hesitation. Even though he decided not to order one himself, you know this man could probably eat enough for an entire village.

“Just giving back a compliment.”

He watches you as he swallows, a chuckle escaping him. “Is that all it is?”

A cool breeze briefly ruffles his hair, the black satin shirt shifting with it and exposing just a little more of his chest. One hand still holds the kebab, veins standing out across the back of it.

“God.”

The word slips out before you can stop it, immediately pulling you out of your own thoughts as you're met with a pair of thoroughly amused eyes.

“I forgot you get horny when you're drunk.”

You gape at him in offense, frowning. “I'm not drunk,” you point out. “And I'm not horny.”

“Okay,” he hums. “It's just one of your stages.”

“Shut up,” you scold, trying to hide your laugh as he laughs too. See? You can joke about it. It's still a thin line, maybe a little too soon for jokes like that, but somehow it feels normal. Maybe because only the two of you know exactly why he said it.

Jungkook finishes the last bite of your kebab in no time before tilting his head toward the way you came. “Ready to head back?”

You nod, falling into step beside him as the conversation naturally picks back up. And you're happy because you finally get to talk to him. Just the two of you, talking about everything and nothing at all. Maybe, just maybe, you're a little disappointed by how short the walk back is.

a/n: happy birthday to that one reader, you know who you are! thank you for your continued support and love throughout this story ♡

a special thank you to every reader who has purchased early access or simply supported me through ko-fi. your support genuinely means more than you know. thanks to you, I'm still able to make room in my life for writing and continue doing something I love in my free time. every purchase and donation helps me keep that time for MH instead of having to take on a side job and I'm incredibly grateful for that.

Thank you for allowing me to keep creating and, most importantly, thank you for being here and reading. 

If you’ve enjoyed this chapter, please consider buying me a coffee☕️: https://ko-fi.com/personasintro ♡ 

© 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨 (𝐧𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐝) | 𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭: @kithtaehyung

[ohhowjooniewept]

obsessive best friend jungkook x y/n

obsession, yearning, smut

>10k

—

jungkook was undeniably your closest friend. you two came as a pair, packaged tightly together and wrapped in clingfilm. you’d known each other since you were both ten, sat together in primary school, stealing glances at one another as though the intrigue you both kept could hardly make either of you look away. the boy had won your heart in a flash when he offered his banana milk to you after punching the horrible boy that kept bullying you, all whilst offering you a big toothy grin.

he came shopping with you, standing outside of changing rooms with crossed arms and big biceps, analysing every short little skirt and blouse. he’d sit beside you in all of your classes, helping you with your note taking, buying you special highlighters so you could make them prettier. and at parties? jungkook would stand, arm around your waist, eyes shooting daggers at any man that tried to even think about coming near you whilst he took care of you.

you see, jungkook being your best friend was indeed undeniable. the other undeniable fact? he was utterly, completely and entirely in love with you.

it would have been fine, if you weren’t so clueless. you took his actions as nothing more than him being friendly, and comfortable with you and sure - you both dated other people, but he’d made it abundantly clear to every woman in his life that you came first in the peking order. naturally, this didn’t make them stay long.

he had a deep, twisted sort of obsession when it came to you, constantly needing you close, wanting to hold you, smell you, caress you in anyway possible. you let him, of course - you were a sweet little thing, you always assumed it was normal despite everyone in your life questioning it. you were asked a million times a week whether you and jungkook were dating to which you’d always tilt your head, mumbling out a confused no. whenever he was asked, he’d simply smirk, and shrug his shoulders, playing the ambiguity card.

you weren’t sly, however. he could see right through you. no matter how innocent you’d act, he knew you enjoyed the attention, craved it and needed it in a way that resembled himself - you were a mere reflection of one another. he had just come to understand his feelings first.

y/n and jungkook, a simple pair. you couldn’t find one without the other, and despite him being the openly touchy and expressive one out of you both, the only person who thought it was friendly was you. the irony was, you knew deep down it was all a facade you were keeping up in hopes he would never stop. it felt too good to change the game now.

even now, jungkook knocked on your door at 2 in the morning, hair messy, coming from one of the libraries after a long PHD study session. you sleepily rose from your bed, already half way to dreamland as you lazily opened the door. though you weren’t expecting him, you knew it could only be him knocking.

“did i wake you?” he murmured quietly as you yawned against the door, letting him in.

he walked in, placing his bag and shoes by the entrance whilst he watched you sleepily turn back to your bedroom. “mm, but it’s okay.”

he followed you in, watching you snuggle back against your pillow. “scoot over.”

you did exactly that, shuffling, watching as he joined you in your bed, taking over a large majority of the space. you groaned a little as his hands found your hips, large fingers pressing into your skin whilst he pulled you into his chest with utter ease.

“smell good.” you purred, curling your face into his neck. he felt himself visibly relax, breathing in the scent of your hair.

“it’s the cologne you got me.” he murmured down at you.

you groaned in response, pleased at his answer.

if anyone were to see you both right now, the last possible thing they’d ever assume you to be was friends and yet here you were. best friends, even, through thick and thin. you’d learnt not to question jungkook’s wandering hands, how it brushed your ass every time he ran it up and down your back. he, in return, didn’t question you on the way you’d steal his clothes, curling into them whilst demanding to lay on his chest, wrapped tightly in his thick biceps. a mutual understanding, if you will.

“hey, we’re still on for tomorrow right? jimin’s party?” he whispered down, causing a subtle shiver down to go down your neck.

you huffed a little. “yes. now shut up, i’m sleepy.”

he grinned at that, bunny teeth sinking into his bottom lip before he pressed quick peck to the top of your head, finding himself joining you into dreamland.

—

you could hear the boom of jimin’s house minutes before you’d even arrived, offering a look over at your best friend yejin who was a giggling mess at the back seat of the uber. the blonde haired boy was notorious for his gatherings, unlimited alcohol thanks to his connections, and a gathering of people that rivalled multiple parties combined. he was a self proclaimed man of the people, offering his large home as a service to society. or so he claimed.

you slipped out once you’d arrived, pulling the hem of your tiny little dress down. the vibe for tonight was to have fun, find someone, get drunk, get ruined all before cosying back up in your warm, big bed. it didn’t feel like too much to ask for, and jimin’s party was the prime location to do it.

you followed yejin inside the too large house, immediately saying hi to people upon your arrival. within minutes, you’d both done your round, and you were finally walking up to your friends who were all mingling in the kitchen.

“hi.” you squealed at the sight of your party host, who grinned widely before giving you a big hug. “having fun so far?”

“jimin, this is insane.” you laughed, taehyung wrapping his arm around your shoulders. “more than insane, should of seen what happened 20 minutes ago, some girl slapped her boyfriend for flirting with someone else.”

“yeah well, had to try out do the other one.” jimin quipped, referencing his previous gatherings whilst already preparing you a drink.

“the fact you’ve managed that is insane.” yejin grimaced whilst taking a sip of the concoction yoongi had prepared.

your eyes flickered to the tall, tatted boy stood by the wall, back pressed against the surface. a loose tshirt sat on his figure, and though it shielded you from seeing the hard panels on his body, the sheer expanse of his shoulders were enough to have your legs move towards him within seconds.

jungkook was staring at you, gaze as intense as ever. his tongue draped over his bottom lip momentarily, wetting it at the mere sight of you. “hi.” he murmured down at you, lowering his head so his lips would graze your ear just slightly.

a shiver went down your spine. your fingers reached for his stomach, clutching his top gently. “already drinking? thought you’d wait for me.”

“been nursing it. don’t drink that.” he moved the cup jimin had given you out of your hand, preparing one for you instead. he was possessive like that, small acts that you could never pin point.

“hm? this tastes good.” you hummed, resting against him.

his arm slipped around your waist, done too casually despite the weight of it on your body. his eyes wandered over the tiny dress you were wearing, eyebrows furrowing.

“is this new?”

you peered up. “yeah! you like it?” you twirled a little, his arm loosening slightly. “got it today, yejin said it makes my legs look good.”

he grunted, half in appreciation and other half in annoyance that your mutual friend had you dressing in such a risqué dress. the thought of other men noticing you enraged him, in a way that wasn’t normal; not that he gave a fuck.

“i do like it. aren’t you cold?” he asked with narrowed eyes, hand returning to the bottom of your back.

you grinned into your cup, tilting your head. “that’s what you’re for, duh.”

at that, a smirk formed in his lips, the thought of you needing him in a way he was only more than happy to be was comforting to his obsessive brain.

the two of you muttered away, hidden away in a corner whilst your friends chatted around you. to the naked eye, you both appeared to be much more than the best friends you claimed to be. with your hands curled onto him, feeling his abs and hard chest under his clothes whilst his own were wandering up and down your back, often dipping low enough to touch your ass.

it didn’t register in your head that this wasn’t a normal thing. that friends shouldn’t touch each other so intimately, especially not ones that were as close as you and jungkook. the mask of friendship acted as a guide for you both, offering a rope of direction despite both of you often letting go, making your own decisions that completely disregarded what was supposed to be.

“gonna go to the bathroom.” you groaned suddenly.

jungkook had been stood in front of you, leaned over so you were caged against the wall, forcing you to push his chest lightly. “want me to come with?”

“what, so you can watch me piss? does that get you off?” you teased, watching as he rolled his eyes.

his tongue pushed against his cheek. “yeah, yeah, hurry up. i’ll hold your drink.”

you giggled to yourself, loving how riled up he’d get at a mere poke or jab, before sliding out of his grip, feeling his fingers tighten against you before letting go. jungkook watched you walk away, greedily taking in every inch of skin he could get. from your legs to your arms, the way your ass looked so fucking good in that dress. he let out a quiet groan.

you walked up the stairs, avoiding the moans emitting from different rooms like the plague. slipping into the bathroom, you quickly did your business before looking in the mirror whilst washing your hands. the alcohol had allowed for a flush against your cheeks and your pupils were dilated, you felt a rush all over your body. tonight was supposed to be chill, but the air felt electric.

you weren’t sure if it was the music, the amount of people or even the selection of drinks - but you felt slightly out of it. you shook your head, forcing yourself to stay present again before you began walking back to your best friend, almost too excitedly.

unfortunately for you, by the time you were slipping back into the kitchen, your tatted friend wasn’t there anymore, with hobi letting you know he’d gone into the main foyer. you, of course, listened and snuck between multiple people, exploring the house in a bid to find jungkook.

you huffed a little, realising he wasn’t there either. curse jimin, you thought, who needed a house this big anyway? your legs travelled around the expanse of the house, feeling slightly annoyed at the loss of your best friend who was usually stuck to your hip. you knew he preferred to stick together on nights like this, so you weren’t sure where he could be.

your legs took you to the living room, finding him leaning towards a corner which made your head tilt slightly, walking over immediately only to be stopped in your tracks the second you realised what was going on.

he had a girl in front of him, tall and leggy, and it took you no time to figure out who it was. yuna. his on and off ex of two years, toxic as could be, the one woman in the entire world you truly couldn’t stand whatsoever. unbeknownst to you, everytime you’d get into a relationship or begin seeing anyone, jungkook would return to her as a distraction, in hopes of making you jealous, to evoke any emotion he physically could. was it healthy? certainly not, but he didn’t really care for anyone that wasn’t you anyway.

you weren’t privy to this information, which meant your disdain for the frankly horrible woman felt unfounded. you felt guilty whenever you’d think about it, knowing you didn’t like her simply because she had jungkook when he felt more yours than anyone else’s, not that you could ever discuss that with anyone. you huffed at the sight, arms crossed whilst staring right at them.

you both had made a pact. you’d broken up with your ex boyfriend a few months ago, and at the time you felt like it was potentially a mistake, but jungkook had talked you out of it. said if you don’t go back, he wouldn’t go back to his ex either and selfishly, you knew that was what you wanted. yeah, you might have missed your ex, but the secret possibility of having him all to yourself was too much not to indulge in. seeing him now, however, had you drowning in annoyance.

yuna’s gaze flickered over jungkook’s shoulder, noticing you stood a few metres away looking at them openly. she wasn’t very fond of you either. it was hard to stomach the fact she would always be second in jungkook’s eyes, if even that, compared to the best friend he kept so closely to him. you could call and he’d drop the entire world to be by your side, so it made her bitter, naturally. seeing you stood there, visibly losing in comparison to her made a small smirk form as she tilted her head upwards to look at jungkook, her hands suddenly sliding all over his chest and shoulders.

you scoffed, deciding you’d had enough as you turned on your heel and exited the room with a grumble. if he wanted her so bad, he could have her, you didn’t care. he wasn’t allowed to come back to yours after though, a broken promise is still a broken promise and you held a grudge like no one else.

“now what’s got you frowning at a party like this?” jin questioned as he wrapped an arm around your shoulder, seemingly appearing out of no where as you trudged to the kitchen to get drunk.

“nothing. it’s stupid.” you shook your head.

“probably, but if it’s upset you, let’s talk.”

you sighed, as you grabbed the bottle of vodka, making a concoction you knew would be too strong for you to handle. you were a lightweight after all. “jungkook’s in a corner getting all close with yuna.”exess

“stupid boy.” he shook his head. “are you upset because you don’t like seeing them together?” he asked, leaning against the fridge, watching as yoongi and jimin walked in, seemingly with the same idea as you.

“what..no it’s not that.” your cheeks flushed, a cheeky grin forming on his face that jimin was beginning to rival, understanding the context of the conversation immediately. “yeah? why you getting all red then?” the younger man teased.

“shut up.” you hissed, making him throw his hands up.

“okay. let’s say for arguments sake you’re not jealous, are you really gonna let that something as silly as that ruin your night?” jin asked, bumping your hip whilst making his own drink. “you can’t let his bad decisions dictate how you feel, enjoy yourself.”

“god. boring. don’t listen to him, y/n.” jimin huffed, grabbing your arms and twirling you a little. “don’t get upset. get even.”

“huh?” yoongi asked, eyes narrowing. “okay, feels like it goes without saying that you shouldn’t listen to jimin right now.”

you were intrigued, however. “what do you mean?” you asked, peering at him.

“get even.” he reiterated with a smirk. “gotta play him by his own game.”

“yeah, well, it’s not like my ex is here.” you grumbled at him, taking a sip of your too harsh drink, making you wince. jin tutted, stealing it out of your hand and making you another, more appropriate one.

jimin’s smirk could have rivaled the cheshire cat, with the way it pinned to either side of his face, clearly loving this game. he knew about jungkook’s feelings for you, and about the hidden feelings you could barely admit to yourself - wasn’t it time he had some fun, and made sure progress was being made?

“ah, but i have something better.” he tutted, leading you out to the entrance of the kitchen so you could look out all of the people here. “so many eligible bachelors. why go for something you’re used to, when you could try something new?”

you pondered his words whilst you heard yoongi groan, taking the drink jin was preparing for you and downing it himself.

soon enough, you had found yourself the perfect man. you couldn’t really remember his name, jaehoon, jaehyun, something along those lines - not that it really mattered. he was the right fit for what you needed. you flirted in a way you knew worked best, eyelashes fluttering and a few casual touches here and there, he was practically smitten by the end.

you’d even gotten up to dance, his hands travelling all over the expanse of your stomach, your hips and hair. he was letting you know exactly what he felt and what he was thinking through his eager touch. normally, you’d feel disgusted, you weren’t someone that revelled in attention like this but it was hard to think when you were being guided by jealousy.

“wanna get out of here?” he whispered down at you, voice heavy with intent.

at first, you faltered, as though ice water had been splashed onto your face, suddenly aware of what you were doing. one look upwards and you noticed jungkook wasn’t even around you, and for some stupid reason you couldn’t rationalise, it made you angry. he broke the pact. he had you walking around the party looking for him. him and his touches, wandering hands and fleeting looks - you knew friends didn’t do that, but it was jungkook. it was okay if it was him, you preferred it even, and yet here you stood, about to make the biggest mistake of your life out of pure ego.

“yeah.” you huffed a little, carried away by your thoughts.

the man in front of you couldn’t believe his luck, you were easily one of the prettiest girls at the whole party and entirely out of his league so he wasn’t about to waste a single minute. he took your hand, smirk big whilst leading you through the house, and towards the door.

you passed some of your friends, who were all looking at you inquisitively, managing to get to the foyer before you were so rudely stopped by a hand yanking your own away from his grip.

“what the fuck are you doing?” jungkook appeared, chest big and shoulders as wide as they could be.

he was inching towards the shorter man, eyes narrowed dangerously as though something completely unfathomable was taking place in front of him.

“who are you?” his eyebrows narrowed. “let go.” you hissed at the same time, yanking your hand out of his grip.

he turned to you, eyebrows furrowing in half confusion and annoyance. “what, you’re gonna leave with this guy? are you fucking stupid?”

“what’s it to you?” your eyes were matching his in emotion, whilst the man beside you watched you both in confusion. “listen, man, she told me she was single..”

“yeah, well she’s not.” he broke eye contact; facing him once more. “touch my girl again and i’ll fucking kill you.”

that was all he needed to hear; backing down immediately and all but scurrying away. jungkook was very well known, he had a presence that made most men uncomfortable, a cocktail mix of strength and anger that anyone would shy away from. it was secretly one of your favourite things about him, you were convinced he was invincible - the thought of him being able to protect you so thoroughly had butterflies erupting in your stomach.

“jungkook.” you hissed once more, anger bubbling in your stomach.

he didn’t bother to respond, grabbing you by your hips and pushing you almost harshly against the wall, secretly making sure your head didn’t bang. “what was that? leaving with some guy, you don’t even know who he was.”

“would it have been better if it was someone i knew, then?” you scoffed, hands gripping his shirt where his hardened chest sat beneath, pushing him away though he didn’t budge whatsoever. stupid, concrete body.

his eyes were darker than you’d ever seen them. “you don’t fucking leave with anyone that isn’t me, you hear me?”

you rolled your eyes. “you don’t get to act all innocent with me, i’m surprised you’re not upstairs with yuna right now.”

“what are you talking about?”

“i saw you, so don’t even bother.” you huffed, pushing him by his chest once more only for him to grab your hands, pinning them to the wall above you.

“yeah? tell me what you saw, hm.” he darkly whispered down at you. “did you hear what we were talking about, or are you jumping to conclusions?”

you wiggled slightly, his chest now all but pressed against yours. this position was entirely indecent, and if either of you were more aware of your surroundings, you’d be thankful that everyone was currently too drunk to notice you.

“you said you wouldn’t talk to her anymore, that was the pact.” you hissed. “you promised and now you’ve broken it, so i can do whatever i want, you don’t get to dictate my decisions.”

he scoffed in your face, and your eyes widened lightly at the mere audacity, wiggling again against his grip. all this was doing was pushing your body tighter against him.

“you know, if you had stuck around longer than 5 seconds you would have actually heard what we were talking about.” he all but grumbled. “she approached me, wouldn’t leave me alone, i’ve spent the last 15 minutes telling her to fuck off, that i’ve only got my eyes on one girl, only have time for you.”

you stopped wiggling, his words hitting you one after the other.

“imagine my fucking surprise when i try find you, only to find some fuck leading you out of this place.” his face was dangerously close to yours. “what were you planning, y/n? trying to get me angry? was that your game plan?”

you didn’t respond, nervously keeping eye contact. your thighs were pressed against each other tightly, a sick part of you enjoying this more than anything, the way he was being a little rougher with you whilst still being protective - it made your brain sing.

“and what would you have done once you were both alone, hm? he wanted to fuck you.” he growled harshly, making you grumble under your breath. “you think a guy like that is worth fucking?”

“okay, fine, i shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions. but you still broke the pact.” you weakly pushed back, your ego too high to let him win.

jungkook knew it, knew the only reason you’d gone so far was out of jealousy and it made his heart clench harshly - it felt fucking incredible. his girl, his y/n, so bothered at the sight of another woman staking their claim on him that you’d become this blind? if only you knew the way he had shut yuna down, leaving the girl practically in tears after he explained how deeply his heart and brain were intertwined into you - that he’d take morsels from you if it meant being close to you, whilst he wouldn’t even look at her twice even if she’d offer herself whole. he knew it was cruel, but in that moment, when all he wanted to do was return to you, he hardly cared.

“yeah, i did.” he murmured after a moment, slowly easing your hands back down from the wall, now pushing them back onto his chest. he could feel your fingers pulling at the fabric of his t-shirt once more. “forgive me, baby. swear my intentions were good.”

you nibbled on your bottom lip. he was still so close, his nose bumped against yours gently, “fine.” you huffed a little, despite one of your hands drawling down to his stomach, feeling the tightness of his abs beneath.

he dipped his head so your cheeks were pressing together, his lips ghosting against your ear. “now, stay with me for the rest of the night. next man i see touching you, i’ll fuck up.”

and as you both walked away, you sported a triumph grin, not only having jungkook possessively lead you to a spot on the couch, but also have his wandering hand go from your hip to firmly grabbing your ass.

—

“how much longer?” jungkook groaned alongside yoongi, who sat beside him, arms crossed and eyes closed.

the two men were sat within the confinements of what felt like a jail, but was actually a mere clothing department. surrounded by pretty dresses and a flourish of colours, the pair felt utterly out of place, dragged here by either girl. yoongi and yejin had a weird back and forth that had been building for years, incredibly similar to your own relationship with jungkook? the difference between you, however, was they at least tried to be subtle for the sake of appearances.

“god, just wait, you’re both so impatient.” yejin huffed, whilst you both chatted away in your respective dressing rooms. “i don’t know about this one.” you murmured, loud enough for jungkook to pick up on the slight tinge of anxiety in your voice.

“come out, y/n.” he gently coaxed, noticing your feet from underneath nervously shuffling.

you did exactly that, however, your hair pulled up into a messy ponytail that he couldn’t tear his eyes away from.

“wait let me see too!” yejin excitedly rushed out, the lilac tone of her dress catching yoongi’s attention.

jungkook couldn’t look away from you. a sweet grey dress that hugged every inch of you - from where it sat on your calf to the way it dipped in at your waist. it felt like your legs went on for days, your breasts accentuated. you were perfection in a bottle, and the fact you weren’t sure drove him insane.

“i really like that, actually. you look nice.” yoongi nodded in approval, yejin walking over and adjusting the straps. “oh, you are so getting this. you look hot.”

you looked over at jungkook. it was his opinion you really wanted, and you knew it wasn’t healthy, but you craved his thoughts the most. he was soaking you in hungrily, eyes dark and legs parted slightly, causing you to flicker down secretly. he was enamoured by you.

“i like it.” he grumbled. “i like it too much.”

your cheeks flushed a little, pleased with your best friend’s approval. “you sure kookie? just think this grey is too moody for a wedding, and maybe it’s too tight?”

“it’s perfect. i’m wearing black, so we’ll match.” he shook his head. yejin grinned to herself before flaunting her outfit towards yoongi who was equally as enamoured.

“ooh, are you wearing that suit we got together at the start of the year?” you excitedly asked, shuffling over to him. you were now in front of him, his legs parted as he leaned back in his chair, your body inbetween.

he was taking you in, openly. from your eyes to your lips, lips to your neck, neck to your boobs and downwards. he couldn’t get enough.

“mm, yeah. remember you saying how much you liked it.” his hands were touching you now, on your hips, sliding over the material hungrily. “i really do.” you admitted, a small, too cheeky grin forming on your face.

yejin had returned to her dressing room now, you promptly doing the same, jungkook’s hands falling off of your body, watching the dress pool at your feet from the bottom of the door. he spread his legs a little wider, accommodating for the already growing nature of his length.

“hey, you guys joining us for dinner?” yoongi asked him quietly, watching as yejin walked out, hands playing with her hair. “dunno man, might have to pass, she’s kinda tired so thought i’d take her home.”

he nodded, watching as you too came out. jungkook admired you whilst you both said your goodbyes, soon enough standing in front of him, in between his legs slightly, like before. “you don’t have to come with me if you’re hungry, kookie, i don’t mind making my own way back.”

he scoffed, whilst standing, height towering over you immediately. “gotta take my girl home, hm?”

you didn’t want to admit the pounding that formed in your chest at his words and the ease in which he said them in. he took a hold of your hand, both protective and possessive whilst leading you to the counter, not sparing you a single glance as he paid for your dress. you had known him long enough to know he’d sooner die than let you pay for anything, another thing that had you kicking your legs and screaming into your pillow.

“wait, can we go to yours instead? just remembered my house is a mess and i don’t wanna deal with that right now.” groaning into his arm whilst you walked beside him, peering up with big, hopeful eyes.

jungkook wanted to scream. as if he could say no to you.

“mm, sure. you left your stuff from last time too in case you want to shower.”

you grinned wide at the confirmation. “hm, maybe i’ll have a bath.”

within the next half hour, you were in jungkook’s bath, soapy bubbles covering your naked body whilst you hummed in delight, candles littered everywhere to create some sort of ambience. you loved coming to his place, it was much bigger and warmer than your own apartment. his scent was also everywhere, which made your brain keen.

“you hungry?” jungkook called out from the kitchen, prepared to make you a whole ass meal at your mere confirmation.

you were away with the fairies, too cozied up in the warm water and scented bubbles to even begin to hear him. jungkook frowned, realising you hadn’t responded, making him walk towards the closed door, knocking lightly and asking again.

in return, all he got was a slight hum, as though you were confused of what he was asking. without thinking, the door was already being pushed open, revealing you.

your hair was pulled up in a cute little bun, whilst your knees propped up in the water, the only sliver of skin jungkook could see whilst the rest of your body lay hidden underneath the expanse of bubbles. he watched as you peered up at him lazily, as though this was the most normal thing in the world - as though friends were supposed to walk in on each other naked.

“what did you say?” you murmured up at him whilst exhaling a little, seemingly content.

his lip quirked upwards slightly, whilst his cock thumped against the expanse of his boxers and jeans angrily. if you shifted, just slightly, just a little…

“asking if you’re hungry.” his voice has become rough, causing your eyes to flicker over to him, before slowly trailing down, noticing the way he was evidently hard.

in all honesty, you’d noticed it constantly. whether it was you waking up to his morning wood pressed tightly against you, or whether it was at parties where you’d sit on his lap only to be left with a core aching for something you weren’t sure you’d ever get.

“not really. this feels too good to leave.” a sigh left your lips dramatically, making him crouch beside you, his hand dipping in the water slightly to feel the temperature. “that does feel good.” he confirmed.

“i even put the salt thing you bought for me. feels so nice.”

if jungkook was any other man, he wouldn’t have been able to pick up on the secretive tone you were using. but, alas, he knew you better than you knew yourself, which meant he could recognise the teasing tilt to your voice with ease. you were enjoying this. you liked seeing him rock hard for you, and judging from the way your eyes kept flickering down, you were just as needy.

“yeah? mind if i join you, baby? wanna see what’s got you like this.” he was suddenly so close to your face; watching the way your pupils were dilating, your eyelids hooding whilst you offered a little nod, almost delirious.

hungrily, you watched him. he discarded his top, his jeans. he made sure your eyes were connected as he was left with his boxers, his length imprinted against the thin material, watching the way your gaze flickered down almost hungrily.

“make some room.”

it was though you were taken out of your trance, slowly pulling yourself to the corner of the massive bathtub whilst he himself got in, his boxers sat on the floor of the bathroom. jungkook rested against the opposite side of you, his back against the tub whilst you did the same, the bubbles mostly hiding you.

him, however - no he was a different story. his cock sat heavy against his stomach, pink and long, thicker than anything you’d ever seen before. it looked angry, the way it was twitching, hard and begging to be touched, visible to his sweet best friend.

he watched as you stared, little gasps leaving your mouth as you hungrily took him in. you weren’t hiding it, something he appreciated greatly.

the problem with your shared dynamic was that neither of you were shy about how you felt, making it clear to the world whilst never discussing it to one another, leaving you in this tension filled relationship where you both wanted each other in a way that felt stifling.

jungkook watched the way your chest and rose and fell, hints of your pebbled nipples coming to the surface before being hidden away once more.

“you were right. does feel good.” he casually murmured, wet hands running through his hair to keep it out of his face, as though his cock wasn’t leaking pre cum in front of you.

you weren’t sure what to say, core thumping and begging for something, anything.

he smirked slightly. “but colder than i expected.” your eyes looked up at his voice, finally listening again. “c-cold?”

“yeah. warm me up?” he tilted his head, watching as your body moved before you could even think.

you moved towards him, water sloshing, not that either of you cared, so your back was now suddenly against his chest, your naked bodies curling into one another with ease. your nudity wasn’t an issue for you, and certainly not for him, but the second you moved, you hadn’t realised this meant the bubbles were now moving away from you too.

your visibly naked body pressed against him, whilst his arm curled around you. he could see your breasts, the way they jolted with every move, causing his cock to twitch much to your non-secret enjoyment.

“feels better.” he breathed down at you, air tickling your ear, making you curl further into him. your hands were against him, one on his chest and the other at his side under the water, but your gaze had fallen directly onto his cock once more.

“pretty.” you whispered up at him. his ego was beyond anything at the minute. what do you mean his pretty little best friend was perched, naked on his chest, admiring his fat length?

he nuzzled your nose, almost condescendingly with his own, eyes dark and dilated to match your own. “yeah? you like it?”

you nodded, curling into him further whilst one of your hands drew circles against his stomach, dangerously close to where it sat. you weren’t as innocent as you looked, and jungkook fucking loved it.

his own hand curled tighter against you, fingers touching just above where your own pussy sat. “been like this since the dress shop. you looked so pretty.”

the way he was cooing at you had your eyes fluttering shut for a moment, a small grin beginning to form. “i’m happy you liked my dress.”

“i fucking loved it.” he scoffed, drawing his own circles against you. “always look so beautiful.”

the ending of his sentence was whispered down at you, as though they were words too big for either of you to hear. it did nothing to stop your grin from growing, giggling a little into him as you nuzzled closer to his chest, your fingers brushing against his cock more openly.

you watched as it twitched, whilst his own hand was beginning to fall forwards, almost cupping your heat entirely.

“kookie…” you began, nibbling down your bottom lip as you nervously looked up at him. “can..can i?”

instead of responding, jungkook took his free hand and took your own, pulling it up to his lips to plant pepper kisses all over it. your eyes were batting up at him, enjoying the affection and attention beyond anything you could ever describe, before watching him take your hand, and slowly wrap it around his dick.

your little gasp nearly had him bucking up into your hand. the way it couldn’t wrap around fully, your fingers much smaller than his and yet you wasted no time, beginning to pump him slowly, up and down.

“you’re so thick.” your voice was filled with awe, and again, his ego felt like it was about to sky rocket. jungkook wanted to close his eyes, relish the pleasurable feeling of you exploring him for the first time like he had dreamt of on so many occasions. and yet, he couldn’t look away from you, the way your eyes were hooded and your hands were moving up and down in pure intrigue. it made him want to ruin you.

“my turn.” he whispered in your ear, making you shiver. his hand that was grazing against you, now moved purposefully. jungkook ran two fingers up your slit, groaning a little at how wet you felt. despite the water growing colder each passing minute, you both felt on fire.

you let out a breathy moan, head pressing against jungkook’s cheeks as your legs opened up for him, the two of you peering up at one another.

“prettiest pussy i’ve ever seen.” he huffed through a moan, your hand moving up and down his length. your faces were turned to one another, breaths mingling as your lips sat dangerously close.

god, you were so beautiful. jungkook couldn’t get over the hazy look in your eyes, the way your gaze only ever looked away to look at your hand pumping him, or his own fingers moving against you.

a loud moan left your lips once you felt jungkook push a finger in, deep and full. he wasn’t waiting for you to adjust, merely pumping it with a curled edge, hitting you exactly where you needed it. your forehead now touched his own as you adjusted your body, giving him more access whilst you too sped up your actions.

neither of you could look away, pleasuring one another as though it was the most natural thing on earth, both yearning to kiss each other and yet there still seemed to be an air of uncertainty. soon enough, he added another finger, watching as your mouth fell open and eyes shut tight.

“cmon, baby, want your eyes on me.” he whispered against you, pressing too gentle kisses to your face, making you whimper and nod whilst doing exactly that.

your hands were sloppy, almost unsure of yourself as the pleasure raked up and down your body. fortunately for you, jungkook was of the opinion you didn’t need to ever work, the concept both foreign and offensive to his mind. his hand darted out, taking a hold of your own on his cock and guided you, taking control of you whilst also fingering you, actions growing harsher.

“fuck. a pussy like this needs to be ruined. look at you; just begging to be stretched out.” his words were pounding in your brain. “bet you can’t think unless you’re leaking cum.”

you stretched your legs impossibly wider, water sloshing around you as you nodded along to his words, feeling them in the pit of your stomach. you wanted that so badly.

“jungkook, i can’t..” the moans you were letting out were loud and bouncing off of the walls of the bathroom, whilst you both grew more and more erratic.

his fingers ploughed into you, in and out, curling right against that singular spot that had you arching your back into him whilst he helped you fist his cock.

“you can.” he hissed, biting your jaw, leaving hickeys against your neck and jawline as though he had every right. “wanna feel you cum for me, sweet girl. hm? so good to me, just letting my ruin your little pussy. who does it belong to?”

“you.” you responded almost instantly, back arching as you felt something grow in the pit of your stomach. “all yours, kookie, always.”

he nodded, forcing you to look at him as he too could feel his orgasm approaching. your words were like a drug to him, feeding ever warped belief he’d ever thought. you were both on the edge, so close, so ready to break, feeling higher than ever in one another’s arms.

he pulled you in suddenly, fingers leaving your core and dropping your hand away from his own cock. you wanted to whine until you realised what he was doing, positioning your body on top of him so he could slide his cock between your slit, pushing the tip into your tight hole.

“you’re going to cum on my cock, y/n. you hear me? gonna fill you up, make sure it fucking sticks.” his words were so dark, so possessive and yet they bounced around your brain in mere pleasure.

your body was shaking, he was a tight fit, but he wasted no time, only managing to fit the tip and an extra inch inside before roughly thrusting inside of you, building on both of your impending orgasms. if you thought his fingers felt good, the painful stretch of only a part of his cock had you screaming into his face. he couldn’t stop, his hands harsh and leaving bruises on your ass as he clutched, chasing both of your orgasms. neither of you were thinking clearly, which caused jungkook to lean even closer and press his lips tightly to yours.

your brain blanked.

the movement of his lips, the way your mouths moved in unison hungrily, both of your hands moving against one another was enough to finally push you over the edge.

your legs shook whilst jungkook came too, a loud grunt leaving his lips as ropes of cum painted your walls, whilst you cried out in pleasure, the too harsh coil bursting all over your body.

you felt like you were on cloud nine, and once you had finally come down for your high, you realise you were perhaps out out of it for longer than you’d realised. your back was against jungkook’s, his arm around your waist whilst the shower head above washed both of your bodies. your legs felt weak and hard to stand on, but his grip was tight and made you steady.

“you okay?” he gently murmured down at you, with a small kiss to your forehead, causing you to nod with a little curl. “i feel so good.” you hummed, aching core a reminder of his love for you.

“good. did so good for me, sweet girl. fingered all that cum back in you too, so it’s all inside.”

his words would have scared any other girl, and yet here you were, quietly giggling to yourself like he had just said the most romantic thing on earth.

you reached over so you were turned in his arms, pressing your cheek to his chest, feeling entirely dwarfed in this position and yet it was exactly what you needed. the grin on jungkook’s lips rivalled that of a cheshire cat.

“cmon, let’s get you fed.”

the rest of the day was spent with you sat in jungkook’s arms, continuing your usual routine. you’d always been touchy, holding one another, nuzzling in one another’s neck and cuddling but this? no, this was completely different.

he had you sat on the counter whilst he cooked for you, shirtless, feeding you spoonfuls whilst he kept a hand on you at all times. later, he fed you from his lap, making sure you were full and satiated. once you were done, you both popped on a movie, watching until you felt sleepy, his arms carrying you to his bed. you slept good that night, feeling protected as you curled into jungkook’s arms, biceps wrapped around you and his fat cock hidden away in your gummy walls.

though neither of you rushed to talk about what had happened, you almost didn’t feel the need to. jungkook was yours, he always had been, and yeah you didn’t have a label, but you weren’t sure anything could accurately describe what he was to you anyway.

you fell asleep in the arms of the only man you’d ever truly cared about, body and soul, heart and mind.

—

you loved weddings more than anything else on earth. to be around people expressing joy for shared love felt pure in the sweetest of ways, and it was always an honour you held deep in your heart whenever you were invited.

you sat on a table with all of your friends. jungkook sat behind you and jimin to your right, the circular table wide and chatty, laughing with one another and clapping your hands excitedly when namjoon made his toast.

ever since that night with jungkook, things had changed. not in a bad way, oh contraire - his lips would often find your own in a sweet embrace, fleeting but gentle, his hands wandering inappropriately in their usual fashion but now it held more weight. you’d lost count on how many times he’d cum inside of you, it slowly becoming an addiction for you - you couldn’t function if he wasn’t inside you in some way. it was like a switch had shifted in both of your brains and it made you realise you didn’t want to pretend anymore, you liked his attention, yearned for it, wanted more and more and more.

you hadn’t seen him for a few days which felt like a lifetime, but your exams and your part time job kept you away from him, not that this was a deterrent. he’d send you videos you know you’d giggle at, or facetime you like he typically would. it felt different, the air had changed, and you found yourself longing for something you knew you could have.

jungkook had picked you up from yejin’s apartment, some of the other guys coming with too so you could all attend together, and he could have sworn you’d stolen his breath then and there. he’d seen you dressed for parties, or even half naked, but it didn’t compare to seeing you now. elegance dripped from every inch of you, your dress from the shop he’d bought you adorned on your body and your hair pulled back in a sweet bun, wispy pieces adorning your face. he was wearing the suit you loved so much, and the both of you couldn’t help but grin at one another.

on the ride there, the both of you sat in the back of yoongi’s car. his hand was against your thigh, possessive and meaningful and you found yourself playing with his fingers almost excitedly. you liked how visibly he wanted the world to know you belonged to him. made you feel good.

walking in, you weren’t sat together for the ceremony, with jungkook being further down in the row whilst you and yejin sat separately from the boys, much to his disappointment. this proved beneficial when he realised his position allowed for direct access to you, watching you greedily as he took you in. he couldn’t help but notice how many of the groomsmen were eyeing you up, and it made him clench his teeth but he remained quiet. a problem he’d deal with later.

the bride soon walked in, a vision in white, and jungkook watched the way your eyes utterly lit up, a little gasp leaving you. his gaze was hungry, obsessive, he couldn’t look away even if he wanted to - the way your small hands were clutched by your chest as though the mere sight of the bride had hearts pooling at your stomach. you wanted to be a bride? done, he’d get you a ring first thing tomorrow.

he was being quiet tonight, and despite now being sat behind you at the table, he’d not talked to you much. you were a slight over thinker, so you were assuming it might have been the environment, maybe he was uncomfortable at weddings? he didn’t seem uptight or anything, merely contemplative, and he was still being touchy so you assumed it was about something else as opposed to you.

silly little you had no idea that jungkook was thinking of the next steps. he’d propose to you, obviously, the title of boyfriend and girlfriend was insulting to him and he’d never stoop so low than to claim you in such a way. secondly; you’d get married, and he’d buy you a big house - he was already lined up for a high paying job that he was about to start, and he was pretty comfortable considering his family’s fortune. did you want a lot of kids? lord knew jungkook would give you a hundred if that’s what you wanted, or he’d live a life solely focused on you if that’s what you preferred. he knew you well enough to know you liked children, always cooing and complaining about baby fever to him as though he wasn’t correctly equipped to heal you from it.

after a while, you simply couldn’t take it anymore, pulling at his sleeve a little, forcing him to look at you whilst everyone ate.

“you okay?” you tilted your head at him, wispy hair falling into your face.

fuck, jungkook thought. you were beauty defined.

“yeah, i’m all good.” he confirmed, taking your tugging hand and intertwining his fingers with them underneath the table. “sorry, just been lost in thought.”

“what’re you thinking about?” you asked curiously.

he peered over your features, the way your big eyes were blinking up at him as though he held the answers to the universe.

he pressed a little kiss to your hand. “about how pretty you’d be in a white dress.”

you gasped almost immediately, catching the attention of yejin and seokjin who sat beside jungkook, before they looked away. you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him, chest beating hard at the insinuation of his words, gaze dropping to the way his lips quirked slightly at your reaction.

“why..” you cleared your throat. “why are you thinking about that?”

his thumb was tracing patterns against your skin, leaning closer to you for a minute. “i always think about you. feels fitting for the setting.”

your heart was beating. was he teasing you? you didn’t even need to think to know the concept of jungkook being your future husband was something akin to having heaven on earth. a man utterly, entirely obsessed with you, showering you with love and affection whilst being a six foot something adonis. the fact he was your closest, most cherished best friend since childhood only added a little cherry on top.

“shut up.” you pushed him lightly, but the dusting of pink in your cheeks was enough for anyone to notice.

soon enough, the wedding party actually began, with namjoon forcing all of you to dance and have fun, laughs being heard all around the room as you and other guests danced the night away. you knew you were lucky for having such a sweet circle of friends, all caring and uplifting, unafraid to make fools of themselves in the pursuit of joy.

you slipped away, grabbing yourself a champagne flute and heading out to the open balcony to get some air. you were having the time of your life, and despite having jungkook in your mind all of the time, it felt refreshing to be around such love whilst thinking of him. your best friend. your man.

a small smile formed on your face as you found yourself wanting to scream out loud, feeling so many happy emotions, humming a little as the nippy night air chilled the heat on your body, your exposed arms forming goosebumps.

“god, it’s loud out there.” a voice chirped to your left, making you gasp a little as you looked over.

a tallish man; blonde, green eyes. he was lanky, and resembled one of your exes. on any other occasion, you’d be ready to admit that he was undoubtedly your type, but at the minute, the only thing that could begin to occupy even one moment of your thoughts were that of big boba eyes and a bunny smile.

“you startled me.” you breathed, letting out a light laugh.

he grinned. “sorry.” he turned to you fully. “too much for you too?”

“just wanted some air. got myself a drink, so, can’t complain.”

he laughed in response with a little nod. you found yourself chatting to the stranger, finding out he was a close friend of the groom, was currently working as a lawyer, financially responsible, even had a dog. on paper, this man was the total catch and the fact he was being so openly responsive with you, it didn’t take a genius to figure out he clearly desired you.

however, you felt absolutely nothing.

sure he was attractive, but hardly anything could pull you away from the warmth jungkook provided. he felt like home. twisted, warped, dark and yet it felt safe, something you knew no one else could replicate. he’d known you since you were in pigtails, held your hand through every single thing you’d ever experienced and still stood tall. if not him, then who?

“okay, i’m just gonna ask. gotta shoot my shot, so..” the green eyed man, nate as you’d come to learn, turned to you. “are you single?”

your cheeks flushed almost instantly. you had a sneaky suspicion his interest was blooming from that angle and yet assumed the best. “oh..uh, not really.”

“that doesn’t seem like a confident no?” he tilted his head.

you bit your lip, a slight smile forming. “guess it’s complicated.”

“a girl like you shouldn’t be wasted on complicated. you deserve a clear answer.”

you peered up at him, nibbling on your lip and contemplating. “i know what i mean to him, we’re best friends…we’re more than anything i can describe, really. i don’t even know what you’d call us..i guess that’s why it feels complicated.”

nate took a swing of his drink. “what a lucky son of a bitch.”

you giggled at that, before feeling a heavy warmth against your back, thick fingers clutching the side of your hip and breath tickling the back of your neck, a single kiss being pressed against it. your brain swirled with content, recognising the touch almost instantly, as though you were tethered.

“very lucky.” jungkook all but purred into your skin, a small and almost shy smile forming at your lips.

the man beside you instantly understood this man to be the exact one you had spoken about, and the sight of you together, the way you both melted into each others touch floored him for a moment. you were right - this was the epitome of complicated. as a stranger peering in from the outside, he wasn’t sure what he’d call you. boyfriend girlfriend felt foolish, anything more would be too little, but the way you were reacting and touching one another felt fated.

he took his leave, the once disappointment that swirled in his stomach quickly replaced by an understanding - you were each other’s person. he didn’t stand a fucking chance.

“you scared him away.” you teased, whilst jungkook turned you in his arms, looking down at you with arms locked around your waist. “bad dog.”

“yeah, i guess i did.” he hummed. “been doing that with every man that comes your way for years. some slip through.”

you giggled. he wasn’t joking. not that you needed to know.

he twirled a strand of your hair. “you seem contemplative.”

“is a girl not allowed to think?”

“hm. i encourage it.” hands slowly slipped up to the small of your back. “tell me your thoughts?”

you bit your lip.

“what are we?” you asked quietly, as though afraid you’d break the peace in the quiet you shared with him.

jungkook didn’t falter, though. not that you expected him to, but you knew that it was an age long question that made most people uncomfortable. it was about time you realised that jungkook wasn’t like most people, and he hadn’t been for the past 15 years you’d known him.

he tilted his head slightly, so that your eyes would meet his directly.

“you are everything.” he simply responded. “i feel like anything i label you as is too small and it feels insulting, but i’ll take anything you give me.”

you nibbled further, nodding. “i know.” your voice came out a whisper. “i’ve always liked you to be honest. i guess i just put our friendship first because you’re my best friend, you mean so much to me.”

your admission was sweet, and he could feel it in the depths of his soul.

his finger reached up, tilting your head back gently and pressing a small kiss to your jaw. “i feel a lot more than like for you, y/n. think you’d run for the hills if you truly knew.”

“i wouldn’t.” you breathed out, pulling at his shirt, tugging. “wanna hear it. you can tell me.”

jungkook stared down at you.

“you are the only thing i ever think about.” his finger under your chin was now caressing your cheek. you were so delicate. “morning, afternoon, evening. i feel physically sick if i don’t see you, don’t touch you or talk to you. your voice alone feels healing.”

you breathed out a shaky breath of air.

“remember our pact? i don’t talk to yuna, you don’t talk to your dumb fuck ex.” you nodded.

“only reason i ever entertained her was because i couldn’t stomach the thought of him being around you, getting to hold you and kiss you. even now, i feel angry, feel sick even thinking about it ever being a reality.”

“jungkook..” you all but gasped out.

“i know it’s fucked up. i know it’s not normal, but my brain is warped. i’m obsessed with you, felt this way ever since we were kids and it’s just gotten worse and worse and worse. but i don’t care, baby. you’re it for me and i’m spending my life making sure you feel every bit of that, i don’t care if it means i have to tear this world and make a new one for you.”

your heart was beating out of your chest as you peered up at him, hands shaky and lips parted.

“you, y/n, are mine. i’m yours too.” he nodded. “so call me your boyfriend, or whatever you want, because soon enough, i’ll be standing up there with you walking down the aisle all pretty in white.”

he brought you closer.

“and even then, when you call me your husband, i’ll feel fucking sick. because it’s a cheap comparison for what i feel for you, what i wanna be for you - you’re one half of me, and i’ll never make you feel any less.”

peering into jungkook’s eyes, you saw a swirl of two things. love, undoubtedly, which swam in pools of ebony brown, curling around his iris and hugging the whites of his eyes as though it was the most natural thing on earth. behind it, bigger, stronger even, sat infatuation - deadly, all encompassing.

if you were a better woman, you’d run for the hills, recognise him as the apex predator whilst identifying yourself as his ideal prey. unfortunately for you, every line of obsession that made up jungkook’s entire being was matched within your own. you were every inch of what he was to you, you felt the exact same emotions, the same need, the same awe, the same primal want that you couldn’t explain to anyone else.

he was yours, yours alone and you’d never let him forget it.

you were both leaning in, about to kiss, reaching a new high and understanding when your name was called out from inside the building. within seconds, it seemed you were pulled away out onto the dance floor where the bride was ready to toss her bouquet, your figure hidden amongst the other excited women around you.

you turned, your intention to simply watch as red petals flew in the air, cascading through the crowd and landing gently within your hands, brushing your fingers gently until they found a home in your embrace.

jungkook watched from the balcony, small smirk forming as he too clapped alongside everyone else in the room.

figures, you thought, catching his gaze as you inhaled the scent of the fresh roses. even luck knew where you belonged. captured tightly against harsh thorns, possessive and rough - no way out with no will to find one.

[dreamersparacosm]

when did you get hot? ᯓ★ jeon jungkook

— a dreamersparacosm 7k special .ᐟ.ᐟ

SUMMARY. Life after high school has been pretty mundane. Give or take a few breakups, a few quarter life crises, you’ve done well for yourself. Enter Jeon Jungkook: a blast from the past and your ex-Chemistry tutor, except now, it seems he's traded in his glasses and textbooks for a lip piercing and tattoos. The universe is clearly testing you... or maybe it's giving you one last shot to get it right.

pairing. jeon jungkook x reader

word count. 21.7k

warnings/genre. ex-cheerleader!reader, oc used to be a mean girl, ex-nerd!jungkook, jungkook used to be OBSESSED with oc, like clinically obsessed (what is wrong with him), slight sexting (kinda maybe) alcohol consumption, jimin instigating but what’s new, making out in dirty club hallways, fingering in an uber, he’s HUNGRYYY, he has a d*ck piercing!, oral (f receiving), you bounce on it, he fucks you while carrying you, idk read the rest they have sex, he cums inside you

note. WE NEED TO BRING BACK THE DYING ART OF A 10k+ WORD ONE-SHOT. the concept of publishing a 7k celly when my 6k celly hasn’t even been posted yet… i hate me too. i hit 7k a few days ago but this has been in the works since man’s best friend dropped. i’m quite proud of this, if i do say so myself. also before anyone yells at me, this was NOT on the to-do list but when there’s a will, there’s a way (or in my case, if you get a little tipsy, your brain starts thinking of ex-nerd!jungkook and this happens). this is just a fun little thing. porn with plot! but anywho, thank you all for following me, for engaging with my work, for continuing to give me a platform to share my passions. i love you all. here’s to many more celly’s!

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။|||| when did you get hot? by sabrina carpenter

banner creds | masterlist

Saturdays. 3 PM. Brunch. It’s been carved in stone since the day you met Park Jimin during your freshman year at Yonsei University, when he was still closeted and you were still treating every night like your last on earth.

Today, he’s on a rampage about his fiancé of two years, Kim Taehyung.

“Do you know what he did? He bought a twelve foot cactus. Twelve. Fucking. Feet. And guess where it is now?” Jimin waves his fork dramatically, almost stabbing two nearby patrons in the process. “In the middle of our beautifully crafted living room. He’s lost his fucking mind.”

You hum, twirling a straw in your iced latte, half-listening and half-focused on the couple next to you who seems to be arguing. “So sorry, Jiminie. I don’t know how you do it.”

“Thank you.” He sighs. “It’s a lawsuit waiting to happen when I inevitably walk into it. You know, when I told Tae to pursue art, I didn’t think it meant this.”

Taehyung and Jimin have the kind of love story that makes romantic comedies look documentary-level realistic. By comparison, your love life is a blooper reel that never made it to air. They’ve been disgustingly in love since senior year of university, and you’ve been their trusty little third wheel. While it’s comforting to hang out with a couple that has a dynamic as healthy as theirs, you do have to fight the pang of jealousy that hits you everytime. 

“Last week it was the sculpture made of kitchen utensils. This week, desert plants. Next week? Probably something with a blow torch,” Jimin carries on, poking at his salad mercilessly. 

You snort. “Tae doesn’t know how to work a blow torch.”

“He could, is my point. He’ll try anything once.” Jimin’s eyes light suggestively, and the gag reflex hits fast and mercilessly. “Like that one time he wanted to try out suspension and—”

“Jimin. Please. I am trying to enjoy my coffee,” you plead. 

He rolls his eyes. “Like you don’t love us.”

“I do,” you reply quickly. “But please spare a girl the details of your sex escapades.”

“Maybe you’re bitter because you need some sex escapades of your own.” Jimin shrugs. He’s not saying it to be rude—the man doesn’t have a mean bone in his body, unless someone’s rude to his fiance. 

Poor Park Jimin has been running a one-man campaign to get you laid for months. The last time you remotely showed interest in a man was a year ago, and that catastrophe ended with you sobbing on their couch for 72 hours straight while Taehyung made you soup and Jimin burned sage to ‘cleanse the toxic energy.’

You have no interest in any of it.

Sure, sex is cool and all, but the idea of the emotional turmoil that comes with the territory seems like something you can do without. 

“What did I say about bringing up this topic again?” you groan. 

“C’mon, please tell me you have something new that’ll make me feel better about my cactus situation.”

Your fingers collect the condensation on your plastic cup, pretending to be deeply engrossed by it. “I have nothing.”

“So as exciting as my cactus?” 

Your foot kicks his ankle under the table and the noise he makes in retaliation is enough to get dirty looks from the other patrons. “Jesus Christ. Aren’t you a ball of fucking sunshine?” he moans in agony. “This is why you need to have sex. You get all crabby and violent when you don’t. When’s the last time you had sex again?”

Okay—there was that guy from the marketing conference in March…. No wait. That was last year. February? No, that was the guy who ghosted you after two dates. January? You weren’t even in the country in January. December feels like a decade ago but that was... oh god, was that really eight months ago? Nine? The guy with the man bun who worked at the bookstore and couldn’t find your— 

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Yikes.” He gives you a dramatic side-eye, one that screams you are a pathetic loser, but lovingly. “You need to stop getting coffee with me and go get coffee with a man.”

You frown. “Well, you’re a man?”

He rolls his eyes. “A man who doesn’t enjoy the good ol’ cock up his ass.”

Fair play. Jimin leans back in his chair, studying you intently. Never a good sign. “You know what your problem is?”

You pick up your latte, taking a few sips. “Enlighten me, Park Jimin.”

“You’re too picky.”

Coffee snorts out of your nostrils, landing right onto the table. Jimin flings napkins at the mess, disgusted. “I’m sorry, have you met me? I’ve went out with some weirdos.”

“No, no, not the weirdos.” He waves a hand in the air. He;s about to go on one of his famous monologues, and all you can do is sit back in horror and watch. “I’m talking about the good ones. The ones you actually like. You find one tiny flaw and suddenly it's ‘oh, he chews too loud’ or ‘he uses the wrong there, their, they're.’ Like, relax. Nobody’s perfect.”

“Really? Says the guy currently plotting his fiance’s death over a home decor choice.”

“That’s different.” Jimin’s pinching the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and thumb, something he truly only does when you’ve exhausted his last nerve. “Taehyung and I are past the point of no return. We're in too deep. You, my dear sweet angel, are sabotaging perfectly good opportunities because you're scared.”

Of course, you’ve had this conversation with your therapist numerous times, and you’ll do anything to avoid the topic in your personal life.

But before you can open your mouth to argue, a voice cuts through. It’s low but polite, maybe a little uncertain. 

“Jimin-ssi?”

You don’t bother looking up to see who it is. Jimin knows everyone and their mother, their cousin, probably their dog too. Walking down the street with him is no easy feat, considering half of Seoul stops to talk to him. So, you do what you always do: focus on your phone and ignore the small talk about someone’s new job or whatever mundane life update they’re dying to share.

You scroll through Instagram, half-listening as they exchange pleasantries. Something about the gym, mutual friends, weekend plans. Standard small talk that you've heard a thousand times. 

“Yeah, bro, it’s been forever,” Jimin’s saying. He sounds happier than he normally does when he talks to these people. “I saw your LinkedIn update. How’s the new job treating you? Still insane?” 

“Better now that I’m settled in,” the mysterious voice responds, and there’s something familiar about it that tickles the back of your brain, but you’re too busy watching someone's Instagram story about their breakfast to pay attention. “The team’s chill, and I don’t have to be on call on weekends anymore.”

“You deserve it after all that overtime hell,” Jimin laughs. “Oh, hey, you should totally meet my friend [YN] here. [Y/N], this is Jeon Jungkook.”

Your head snaps up. Your phone falls to your lap. 

What. The. Fuck. 

You haven’t heard that name since high school. 

High school you, to put it mildly, was kind of a bitch.

You were a cheerleader, top of the social food chain. Naturally, you failed a few classes because you were too busy making out with Kim Mingyu behind the bleachers and planning which party to hit up on Friday night to care about things like academic integrity. 

When your GPA started looking tragic enough to threaten your spot as cheer captain, the guidance counselor assigned you a tutor. And since the universe loves to have fun with you, you were paired with Jeon Jungkook. Lanky, awkward Jeon Jungkook, with messy brown hair that looks like he cut it himself with safety scissors, thin silver glasses that slid down his nose every five seconds, and wide, innocent boba eyes. 

All that to say—you did what any mean girl would do and took advantage of him. Batted your eyelashes, laughed at his terrible jokes, and suddenly your chemistry homework was getting done without you having to lift a finger. 

Tests? He'd leave his answer sheet just visible enough for you to copy. 

Lab reports? Practically wrote themselves, if by ‘themselves’ you mean Jungkook wrote them while you filed your nails and complained about how boring science was. 

So, this? This has to be a comedic joke. This is a prank. Jimin is pranking you—it’s an elaborate one, you'll give him that. That's the only logical explanation because there is absolutely no way that the scrawny, stuttering kid who used to turn tomato red everytime you asked him to explain a chemistry problem is now standing here, towering over your table. 

The man who stands before you has a lip piercing, one that hugs the curvature of his pink lips. A sleeve of tattoos that curls down his arm in vivid ink. His hair is perfectly tousled, dark chestnut locks falling into each other. 

And most importantly, those arms. Biceps. He could probably bench press you. Why are you thinking about him bench pressing you? Stop thinking about him bench pressing you. Oh god, you're staring. You're definitely staring. Say something. Anything. Be cool.

He is—there's no other word for it—buff. Like, really buff. 

And he's looking right at you with dark eyes that definitely weren't that intense in high school, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

“[Y/N] [Y/L/N]...” His voice has a deeper timber to it, with a confidence that high school Jungkook could never have. His tone alone is enough to send a shiver down your spine. “It’s been a minute.”

“Uh, I—yeah,” you gulp down a quarter-sized lump that magically appears in your throat. “It has.”

Smooth. Incredibly smooth. Someone needs to hand you a medal for conversational excellence. 

His eyes narrow into slits, like he’s analyzing you and your pathetic life. Sizing you up to discover that you’ve lost all importance in the world, and are now just another girl in the world. 

Jimin, completely oblivious to everything, beams at the two of you. “Amazing! You two already know each other.” He claps his hands together. “Jungkook, you should sit. [Y/N] and I were just catching up on her sad little love life.”

Damn you, Park Jimin. 

Maybe ten years ago, you wouldn’t have cared if he knew about your romantic failures, but with the black shirt hugging his biceps so perfectly, you resent Jimin’s openness. 

“I was not—” you protest, but Jungkook’s already got a hand on the empty chair between you two, plopping into it. 

“Was she now?” Jungkook tuts, looking over at you expectantly. “How sad is sad?”

“Okay, not sad.” You roll your eyes. “It’s just… quiet.”

His eyes dance with amusement, and you sink into the chair. “I can’t imagine you having trouble in this department.”

If only he knew the half of it. 

You open your mouth to combat the embarrassment, maybe to come up with some elaborate lie about how you have three dates lined up tomorrow night, but a server interrupts you before you get the chance. She smiles at Jungkook, and you can't help but note how her eyes twinkle when she realizes how utterly attractive he is. You sink one inch lower into the chair. 

Please don’t order, Jungkook. Ordering means staying and your brain (or your ego, for that matter) can’t take a second more. 

She asks what he wants, pearly whites on display, and he replies smoothly, “Just a black coffee is fine. Thanks, sweetheart.” 

He turns back to you and Jimin, smiling lightly. Behind him, the server trips over her own two feet a bit before adjusting her shirt and walking off. You watch the whole exchange with a weird feeling in your chest. It's not jealousy—you have no claim to be jealous. But it's something. Maybe annoyance that she was so obvious about it. Maybe annoyance that he didn't seem to notice. 

“So, how do you two know each other?” Jimin’s smile resembles a mischievous cartoon villain who just tied someone to railroad tracks. Vibrating with joy, eyes gleaming, the whole nine yards. You don’t even need to hear him speak to know what he’s thinking. 

“High school.” 

You and Jungkook both say in unison, surprising even yourself. He glances over at you before elaborating. “I was her Chemistry tutor.”

The memory alone sends shivers of disgust down your spine. You can still picture it so clearly: high school you in your cheer uniform, sitting across from him in the library with phone in hand, texting Mingyu about whose parents were out of town that weekend while Jungkook explained electron configurations. He’d push his glasses up his nose, stumble over his words when you’d sigh and lean forward, watch him turn crimson red and stutter through the rest of the explanation. 

Evil. Pure, unadulterated evil. 

“You needed a tutor in high school?” Jimin snorts, taking a long sip of his drink. 

“Hey, that shit isn’t easy.” You push his shoulder playfully. 

Jungkook cocks an eyebrow, leaning forward in his chair. “Definitely not easy when you’re too busy with cheerleading practice to study.”

“And you were a cheerleader?” Jimin gapes.

“Okay, that’s enough reminiscing for today.”

Jimin raises his hand. “I’m not done reminiscing. I want to hear more about cheerleader [YN].”

Your face falls flat. Luckily, before Jungkook can embarrass you more with tales from a decade ago, the server comes back with his coffee, making sure to toss him the widest smile her pearly whites can muster. 

Jungkook’s lips wrap around the cup. Your eyes just so happen to fall on the movement, on the way they hug the rim. Were they always that kissable or did he get lip filler?

He meets your gaze.

Shit.

You turn back to Jimin, who’s eagerly awaiting more from Jungkook. “What else don’t I know about high school [Y/N]? She’s never told me anything.”

“Well,” Jungkook starts, and by the way his lips curve upwards, you can tell the next anecdote won’t be endearing. “She did ask me once if we could ‘skip the math parts’ of chemistry.”

Jimin bursts out in laughter. “You’re kidding me.”

“In my defense, chemistry is like, ninety percent math,” you retort. “That’s a reasonable request.”

“It really wasn’t,” Jungkook counters, and his grin widens. There’s something almost… predatory about it. Like he’s enjoying watching you squirm. “But then again, you always did think the rules didn’t apply to you.”

For a moment, you can’t do anything but stare at him. This confidence, this self-assured way he’s teasing you without a hint of anxiety that used to color every interaction, is foreign. 

The absolute worst part of it all is that if he wasn’t currently roasting you for being a shallow human being, this might be the sexiest thing you’ve ever witnessed. 

The eye contact, the slight smirk playing at his lips, the veins poking out of his biceps. All of it both excites and confuses you. 

“What do you mean?” You tilt your head, feigning innocence. 

“Nothing.” He shakes his head, laughs to himself. “Just that some things never really change.”

A pregnant pause fills the space. Jimin’s eyes dart between you two like he’s at the US Open and this is the match of the century. 

“You know, she also once asked me if atoms were contagious," Jungkook adds, turning to Jimin like you’re not even there. It’s a fucking power play—one that high school you invented—and you hate how effective it is. 

A long exhale leaves your mouth, and you have to bite back a thousand venomous words in retaliation. Jimin laughs. “Oh, don’t worry. In college, she asked me if square roots were plants.” 

Okay, so math wasn't your strongest suit. Sue a girl. 

Jungkook’s hands wrap around his cup, taking a quick sip. They’re bigger than you remember, rougher, with calluses to match. 

Truthfully, everything about him is just… more. Bigger, broader, bolder.

You shift gears, clearing your throat to interrupt whatever powwow Jungkook and Jimin have going on regarding your academic life. “What do you do now?” 

“Software development.” Jungkook almost seems surprised that you have an interest in his life. “Started at a startup, but I just moved to a bigger company.”

“What kind of software?” you ask mindlessly, happy to have the attention finally off you. 

“Mobile apps. Some web development.” Jungkook shrugs like it’s nothing, but you catch the hint of pride in his tone. “Nothing crazy.”

Jimin chimes in, eyes twinkling with mischief. “You know, [Y/N] works in marketing for a tech company. You guys probably have tons in common now.”

You want to sink through the floor. Actually—scratch that. Sinking through the floor isn’t enough. You need the floor to open up, swallow you whole, digest you, and then launch whatever remains into the sun. 

You can see exactly what's happening here. You can see the gears turning in Jimin’s pretty little head. He’s planning your wedding, probably picking out centerpieces. He thinks this whole encounter is fate, some kind of romantic star-crossed lovers nonsense where the nerd gets the girl who was too stupid to notice him the first time around. 

He’s going to be insufferable about this. Probably loop Taehyung into this delusion as well. There will be betting pools on when you finally hook up with Jungkook. 

Which—okay, fine—you wouldn’t be completely opposed to. Hypothetically. In theory. 

“How’s that going for you?” Jungkook turns to you. 

“Good. I’ve been at my current company for a few years now. I just got promoted last year.” Your chest puffs out a little. There’s nothing you need to prove to him. But it doesn’t hurt, especially as he validates your words with a slight nod in approval. 

“That’s awesome. I’m happy for you.”

Not said with even an inch of malice. 

“Thank you.” You flip your hair over your shoulder. “See, and I didn’t even need math or chemistry to be successful.”

He chuckles. “Fair enough.”

“I know how emotionally tolling it was to tutor me, so at least your efforts didn’t go to waste,” you joke, and he cracks a smile at that, bunny teeth poking out. 

“It wasn’t that emotionally tolling.” He shrugs, lifting his coffee to his lips. “It was fun. Y’know, when you weren’t texting that guy you used to date.”

He maintains eye contact with you as he takes one, two sips, and you have to clench your thighs to ignore the second heartbeat that’s beating in your vagina. 

Jimin opens his mouth—probably to ask approximately eight thousand invasive follow-up questions about your high school love life—but his phone buzzes violently against the table, the vibration loud enough to rattle his fork. 

Glancing down at his phone, his expression shifts from pure glee to actual panic. “Shit, I need to head out. Taehyung’s making dinner and if I’m late, he’s gonna put that weird purple pesto in it again.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Purple pesto?”

“You know how he is, babe.” Jimin frantically flags down the waiter, motioning for the check. 

You and Jimin always split Saturday brunch. It’s a tradition, one that you don’t plan on breaking. You reach for your wallet in your bag, prepared to pull out your trusty debit card.

But before you or Jimin can get too far, Jungkook smacks his AMEX Platinum card down like it’s nothing. 

You blink at the shiny metal. “Jimin and I always—”

“I’ve got it,” he says, all casual, like dropping 100,000 won on lunch for three people is normal for him. 

To your left, Jimin has the biggest shit-eating grin of all time. “Thanks, Jungkook. You don’t have to do that.”

“It’s my treat. It’s nice to run into old friends.” He tosses you a side glance when he says the word friends, because that’s hardly what you two ever were. 

Jimin’s phone buzzes again, and his eyes widen as they scan the new message. “Oh no. No, no, no.” 

“What?!” You lean forward, trying to peek at his phone. 

“Yeontan threw up all over the new rug. Taehyung just sent me a picture, it’s…” He makes a sour face. “I gotta go. Code red dog situation.”

“Is he okay?” you ask, because despite Jimin’s dramatics, that little ball of fur is your ray of sunshine. 

“He’s fine.” He stands, shrugging on his thin sweatshirt. “He probably ate something he should have. This was great though! We should all hang out again soon!”

And then he’s sprinting out of the cafe, leaving you all alone at the table with none other than Jeon Jungkook. 

If you didn’t know better, you’d say Jimin planned this. Although, to be fair, you do know better, and he one hundred percent planned this. You're going to kill him. You're going to actually murder your best friend.

The waiter comes by, charging Jungkook’s card while you sit there awkwardly, twiddling your fingers. You don’t know what to do with yourself, quite frankly. 

“Jimin isn’t very subtle,” Jungkook says, signing the receipt and placing it aside. 

“Jimin doesn’t do subtle.” You fidget with your napkin. “He probably planned this.”

He quirks an eyebrow. “Oh, really? You think so?”

“I know so. He’s been trying to set me up with someone for months.”

Crossing his bulky arms over his chest, he leans back in his chair. “How’s that working out for him?” 

“Well,” you begin, “Considering the last attempt was one of his coworkers who turned out to be married, I would say pretty terrible.”

“Jesus.” 

“I’m not really into the whole polyamory thing,” you joke. 

Jungkook laughs and stands, and you follow suit, realizing how much taller he is than you. Not that he hasn’t always been tall, but now he has the ego to match it. 

“Want me to walk you to your car?” he asks. 

You bashfully look down at your feet. In your years of living in Seoul, you’ve never once been embarrassed about taking the bus before. The Korean bus system is efficient and better for the environment. But Jungkook, with his fancy tech job, probably has some sleek car that makes the bus system look like a clown car. 

“I took the bus, actually.”

Immediately, without so much as a second thought, he goes, “I’ll drive you home.”

“You don’t need to—”

“I know I don’t need to.” He strolls towards the exit, holding the door open for you to glide through first. “I want to.”

Wait. Is he… is he flirting? That was definitely flirting, right?

If he is very specifically flirting with you, that means he either has a terrible memory or some kind of revenge plot in the works. Both options seem likely and panic-inducing. 

When you finally get outside, the crisp afternoon air dances across your skin. The autumn leaves crunch beneath your feet. You keep a few inches for God between you and Jungkook, and he falls into a comfortable pace beside you, matching you. 

His hands are nestled into his pockets, kicking leaves as he walks. Now that you two are alone, he’s returned to some of his old habits, like being quiet around you when there’s nothing to fill the noise with. 

“How do you like your job?” he finally decides upon asking, and your head lifts to peer at him. He’s gazing at you intently, clearly waiting for an answer. 

“I like it. Most days, it’s creative, but we do a good amount of analytical work too.”

“Why did you choose marketing?” He seems genuinely interested in your answer, which sends tingles down your spine. It’s been a while since someone has cared enough to ask about your life beyond the standard two questions. 

“Well, you know I suck at math,” you start, and he laughs at that. A deep sound that reverberates in his chest and makes your insides mushy. “I also hate science, so that wasn’t an option. I like being creative, and I’m a visual person. I took an intro class and it stuck.”

He nods, soaking it in. “Was college you the same as high school you?” 

You know what he’s asking. Was college you also the biggest bitch alive, or did you grow out of that phase?

“Nah.” You shake your head. “I’m not as shallow… or annoying.”

He smiles. “Good to know.”

You reach his car—a black BMW that looks like it was ripped right off the set of Fifty Shades of Grey—and he unlocks it with a soft beep. 

“Your car is nice,” you note, and his cheeks turn a soft pink at the compliment. 

“Thanks. I figured I should probably upgrade from the bus at some point.” He opens the passenger door for you, causing you to almost trip getting in at the sheer thoughtfulness. 

You frown. “Hey! I still take the bus.” 

He raises his hands up in surrender. “Not hating on the bus. I took that bad boy for years.”

Jungkook closes your door, rounding the car to the driver's seat and hopping in. the inside of the vehicle smells like leather, mixed with the faint scent of his cologne. Your brain can’t help but go a little fuzzy—scents are your weakness. Any man who smells good deserves to get their dick sucked, period. 

“Address?” he asks, starting the engine. 

You give it to him, and he inputs it into the GPS. Fifteen minutes, it spits back. Fifteen minutes in a car alone with Jeon Jungkook, the most confusing blast from your past. 

Peeking over at him, you take his appearance in. His jaw is defined and sharp. Could probably cut glass on that thing. His nose juts out, big enough for you to wonder if he’s ever let a girl sit on his face. God, you really need to get laid. You’ve resorted to sexualizing the man you used to tease in high school like some kind of medieval man who just saw an ankle for the first time. 

The guilt of your past sits heavy in your chest, but your body doesn’t seem to care. It wants what it wants, ethics be damned. 

You don’t deserve to be this turned on by someone you treated like human furniture for two years. But here you are, wondering about the logistics of his face between your thighs, and maybe that makes you exactly as terrible as you’ve always suspected.

Your eyes wander down to his biceps, down to his arms that are cluttered with tattoos. Different designs snake down his skin, some with color, and it takes all your might not to reach out and trace them. Fuck, now you’re thinking about his hands gripping the steering wheel. The veins. Those long fingers— 

“You have a lot of tattoos,” you blurt out. 

His eyes remain on the road, but his lips curl upwards. A little bit like a smirk. “I do.”

“When did you start getting them?” you wonder aloud. 

“College. I started with one, but then I got addicted and kept going.” He glances at you for a second before turning his attention back to the road. “You disapprove?” 

“No! No, they’re… they look good. Really good.” You want to die. “But it is different from what I expected from you.”

His gaze hardens. “A lot of things are different from high school.” 

Silence fills the air as you two continue along the highway in the direction of your neighborhood. Your town is quaint, not too far outside of the main downtown area of Seoul. It’s so peaceful that your neighbors are two elderly women who treat you like their daughter. 

You wonder where Jungkook lives. If you had to guess, he probably lives in Gangnam, the upscale area  in Seoul. Fancy tech job, fancy car… he must have a fancy house to match. Or a fancy girlfriend. 

“Do you live near here?” you ask, hoping to sound as casual as possible. Although, realistically speaking, there is nothing casual about interrogating your ex-Chemistry tutor. 

“Not too far. I’m about ten minutes by car.” His grip loosens on the wheel a little. “Near Hannam-dong.”

So, you were kind of right. Hannam-dong, where all the celebrities and rich people live.

Before you can stop yourself, you say, “Do you live alone, or…?”

It’s possibly the least subtle question in the history of subtle questions, but you need to know.

Jungkook’s grip on the wheel tautens, and when you look over at him, there’s a scarlet flash creeping up his neck. “I—yeah. Alone. It’s just me.”

Is he… blushing? 

“Oh, cool.” You try not to sound too pleased by the information. “That’s really cool. I mean, not cool that you’re alone if you don’t want to be alone, but cool that you have your own space and— y’know, everything.” 

Nailed it. 

“It’s—yeah, it’s good.” He clears his throat, and suddenly, you get a glimpse of the man you remember in high school. Less like the confident, macho guy from the cafe, and more like the boy who used to stumble over his words when you asked him questions. “No one to, uh, bother me or anything. Not that having anyone would be bothering, I just meant—I live alone. No girlfriend or—”

He stops himself, like he’s just realized what he’s saying, and the flush spreads to the tip of his ears. Oh my god. He’s flustered. Jeon Jungkook, with his tattoos and lip ring and his whole sexy confident energy, is flustered because you asked if he lives alone.

The ex-mean girl in you rises to the surface, bubbles in your throat. It’s been a while since you’ve activated her. Not since college, that one time when Park Eunji threatened your spot as sorority president. That version of you knew exactly what to do: touch his arm, squeeze once, watch him stutter. Make him want you so badly it hurts, then pull away. It's muscle memory, this kind of manipulation. You hate that it's still there, your instinct to weaponize attraction.

You want him to be nervous around you. It’s a sick, twisted thought you have, and you don’t know where it comes from, but you want it. “No girlfriend,” you repeat, trying to hide your smile. Reaching out, you place a small hand on his bicep, squeeze once. His bicep is firm under your palm, and the second you make contact, you realize what you've done. That was flirting 101. High school you would’ve done that without thinking twice, but current you? Current you doesn’t have that kind of game anymore. Abort mission. Abort. 

You yank your hand back to your lap like he’s made of volcanic ash. 

“I didn’t—that’s not—” He runs a hand through his locks, messing it up even more. “I’m just giving context about my living situation.”

“No, I got it.” You keep your eyes trained on the road, even though your heart is doing somersaults in your chest. “Though, I have to admit, I’m shocked.”

He gulps thickly. He pulls up to a red light, finally looking over at you directly. There’s vulnerability in his expression, polar opposite to his earlier reactions to you. “Are you making fun of me?”

Huh. You don’t know why, but the fact that old, anxious Jungkook still lives somewhere deep within him makes your stomach backflip. “I would never,” you reply dramatically, waving your hand for emphasis. “I’m just speaking aloud.”

Jungkook hums at that, focusing his attention back onto the street. It’s quiet again, if not for the sound of the engine purring and the awkward tension that’s loitered in the car since you stepped inside. 

He doesn’t need to ask you anything else anyway, since Jimin did a good job of outing you as the most single girl in the history of single girls. He might as well have just admitted you’re a born again virgin. 

The familiar road of your neighborhood looms ahead, and a pit of despair swallows your stomach whole. You really don’t want to get out of the car that smells like him. It would be embarrassing how you’ve begun to thirst over him, but after not getting laid in a while, you’re about ready to unzip your pants and jam your fingers in there. 

“Is it the building up ahead?” he questions, pointing to the cream apartment complex that you reside in. You nod sweetly, smiling brightly. You dial up the ol’ high school charm. 

“Thanks, Jungkook. I really appreciate it.” Another quick flutter of your lashes as he puts the car in park, taking a deep breath and angling his body to look at you. 

“Of course. Anytime.” His face remains stoic, probably hoping to not look like you affect him anymore than you already have.

Your fingers land on the handle, pushing it open to let the brisk air in, replacing the suffocating tension in the car. “Well, I wish you the best. It was nice running into you today.” 

Maybe you should invite him to come up. Maybe you should invite him for a nightcap? Granted, it is midday and there’s no actual alcohol in your home, but you can think of something real quick. 

But he doesn’t move toward you, or show any other inclination of interest. In fact, you’re feeling kind of slutty right about now. He probably thinks you’re some kind of embarrassing gold digger—which like, yes, you might be. For him only. 

Quietly, he says, “You too,” and that’s the end of that. 

And just as you’re about to slam the passenger door shut and head upstairs to scream into your pillow, Jungkook abruptly speaks. “[Y/N].”

You whip around as fast as your body will let you. “Yeah?” 

His big eyes twinkle under the sunlight rays reflecting on the car, two bunny teeth poking out as he sheepishly smiles. You’re going to have fantasies about that mouth later. 

“Just so you know, today wasn’t planned. But I’m really, really happy I ran into you.”

Huh Yunjin’s birthday bash has never been an easy feat. Every year, without fail, there’s a table bought at an exclusive club, and your entire friend group blacks out within the hour. You’re not sure how she gets away with it, but your love for her and mild fear of disappointing her clearly gets her very far. 

Hence why you’re standing in a shopping mall at 3 PM, trying to decipher what makeup product she would like best. Her birthday gift needs to be top notch, because you’re up against Kim Taehyung and Park Jimin, and those two have some kind of gaydar for gift-giving. Last year, Taehyung got her a vintage Chanel bag he “just found” at a thrift store. The year before, Jimin surprised her with tickets to see Beyonce. You’re operating at a disadvantage here.

You pick up another lipstick, eyeing the two intensely. A salesperson loiters over your shoulder, waiting to pounce at any given moment. In the end, you opt for a sleek red lip gloss, one that you know will pair well with her peachy skin. The relief that washes over you at finally securing her gift is endless. 

Pushing past the doors of the shop, you blend into the rest of the mall-goers. It’s pretty packed for an afternoon, but you figure it has something to do with the sales going on. 50% off for shoes… hm. Across the way, you see a sign for 25% off scarves, and you squint to try and make out the tiny writing. Buy one, get one free—

“Oof!”

Your body collides into something firm, something warm. It’s fleeting, and you jump back several feet, immediately armoring yourself with numerous apologies. “Oh gosh, I’m so sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going—”

A deep chuckle. “I’m not mad about it.”

You know that voice. That voice has been haunting your wet dreams and your poorly-written mental fanfiction.

When you were ten, you got chosen to attend a unicorn retreat. It was a glorified horse camp, but it was five days of pure magic. Horses walking around with plastic horns on their head, offering unlimited rides to anyone who wanted one. Magical doesn’t even feel like the proper word to describe it. 

You thought that was the most enchanting moment of your life. But this… this rivals any stupid pony. This makes those ponies look like donkeys. In fact, with the luck you’ve been given, you might rent a unicorn and a castle. 

In front of you stands Jeon Jungkook, looking somehow more scrumptious than he did a few days ago. Defying the damn laws of hotness. You’d spent a good few hours tossing and turning in bed, dreaming about his lips, his eyes, his veiny hands. He looks like he stepped straight out of your wet dream, adorned in a zip-up sweatshirt and black t-shirt, fluffy hair askew. 

His eyes still carry that same twinkle from the last time you saw him, and you wonder if they’re like this all the time, or if it's just for you. 

“Hi,” you exhale breathily. 

“Hello.” He smiles at you, and it’s sweet, just a little dopey, and so decidedly adorable that you want to gnaw on his cheeks like a dog with a chew toy. “Must be my lucky day to run into you again.”

“Clearly.” He is flirting. Sure, there were doubts in your mind before this, but anyone who says those kinds of things, is someone who wants to be balls deep inside you. “I don’t normally treat pedestrians like bumper cars, though.”

Jungkook laughs at that, a melodic sound that sends vibrations from your head to your toes. “If I was a better man, I might’ve moved out of the way to make room for you.”

“Well, then I guess it’s my lucky day you’ve decided to not be a better man,” you counter, and he takes a step closer to you, allowing the people behind him to filter around. A mom of three tosses him an evil glare, but you could care less. 

“I was actually hoping to talk to you again so I could ask you a question.” His eyes bore into you, the eye contact making the walls of your vagina contract incessantly. His confidence from the cafe has returned with a vengeance, and you’re not sure what’s gotten into him, but you hope it never leaves. 

“I might have an answer,” you tease. 

His lips quirk upwards into a soft smirk, one that would normally disgust you but doesn’t whatsoever. “I was thinking you and I should get dinner sometime. Maybe catch up one-on-one.”

If this were a game of tennis, you just won match point. He served, you returned, and now the ball’s sitting in his court while he watches it roll away. Checkmate. Victory. Crowd goes berzerk. 

But you know how to play this game. Even though you’re a little out of commission, you still invented half the rules in high school. And rule number one: never let them see you sweat. Rule number two: make them work for it. 

Tilting your head, you pretend to consider it like you haven’t thought about what underwear you would wear to this hypothetical one-on-one time. “Maybe,” you say, drawing out the syllables. “I’ll have to check my calendar.” 

Your calendar is wide open. Your calendar has been wide open for months. Your calendar is begging for plans. Your calendar is weeping with joy at the possibility of having something on it besides ‘therapy 2 PM’ and ‘don’t forget your lexapro.’

But here’s the thing: if you say yes immediately, if you're too eager, too easy, he’ll figure it out. He'll realize you're still that girl who only wants things because they're shiny and new, who gets bored the second the chase is over. Except this time, the thing you want isn’t a spot on the homecoming court or the captain of the basketball team’s attention—it’s him. 

“Maybe?” He’s grinning now, full teeth, like he’s finally been let in on how the game works. “I pour my heart out and I get a maybe?” 

“You didn’t pour your heart out. You asked to get dinner.”

He scoffs, “Same thing.”

“Not even remotely close, lover boy.” You migrate an inch backwards, so miniscule he hardly notices.

Something flickers across his face at the nickname—amusement, or something darker, more interested. His eyes track your movements like a predator watching prey. 

“I feel like you’re just testing fate at this point,” he jokes. You can see the gears turning in his head, shifting and transforming to try and get to his end goal: you. 

“It’s worked once before already.” You shrug, taking a few more steps back. 

“Alright, well, can I at least get your number? Not really feeling like leaving it all up to the universe.” The color drains from his face slowly as he realizes you’re really, truly, going to walk away. His voice raises a little at the end of the sentence. 

“I’ll see you around, Jungkook.”

With that, you turn on your heel, bags in tow, and make your way towards the exit of the mall with what you hope exudes confidence, and not like someone who’s about to sprint outside and scream into the void. His eyes burn into your back the entire way. Don’t turn around. You’re doing so well. You’re a mysterious enigma. You’re unattainable. 

You trip over your own two feet and have to do some weird stumble-hop recovery move just so you don’t eat shit in the middle of the mall.  

Okay, so maybe not entirely mysterious. But you do make it outside with a goofy grin on your face, caught in some kind of daze, all because your ex-Chemistry tutor has made it abundantly clear he wants to see you again. 

The following Saturday, you and Jimin cozy up at a nearby cafe—a different one than last week’s. You suggested it over text a few days ago, after you had run into Jungkook, because there was some perverse thrill to testing fate and the universe’s weird way of working. Jimin, who could care less where he got his cup of coffee, agreed with a shrug of his shoulders. 

“So, tell me again why you didn’t give him your number,” Jimin furrows his brows, picking at his limp salad in disgust. He’s trying this new diet that only allows for 1000 calories a day, and it’s made him even more judgmental than usual. “Walk me through your thought process here.”

You sigh. “Jiminie, I told you already. I’m playing the game.”

“The game… I hate straight people.”

“Hey, you did the same thing with Tae when you guys first started out,” you frown, taking a prolonged sip of your iced latte. Senior year, Jimin refused to see Taehyung more than once a week in fear of seeming too desperate and clingy, even though he texted him every five minutes anyway. 

Jimin lets out a long-suffering sigh, pushing the soggy lettuce into the corner of his plate. “Tae and I are different. We’re homosexuals. There’s no rules when society already hates you anyway. But you are playing a dangerous game with him.”

Rolling your eyes, you scoff. “I’m not. I’m playing hard to get.”

“How do you know he won’t get bored?” It’s an innocent question that, when asked, makes you want to bash your head into a concrete wall. “I mean, you’ve seen the guy. He probably has a roster of girls throwing their phone number at him.”

You pause mid-sip, straw frozen against your lips. You… hadn’t actually thought about it like that. In your mind, this whole thing has been about you trying to regain an inch of the upper hand, about making Mr. Cocky work for it. But Jimin's right—Jungkook isn’t the same nerdy kid who would wait around forever for a crumb of your attention. You’re also not the cheerleader that everybody’s dying to get their hands on. He could have anyone, and yet his sights are set on you (or well, as far as you know).

“Then I guess we’ll just have to see how into me he is.” You shrug, but no ounce of you feels calm. 

Jimin quirks an eyebrow. “Really? Off of one conversation after ten years, he’s supposed to be magically in love with you?” 

“Okay, first of all, it was two conversations, and second of all, do you have no faith in your hot and sexy best friend?” You swish your hair for good measure, but Jimin doesn’t buy it for a second. Your charms have no effect on his gay self. 

“I do have faith in you. However, I can’t recall the last time you’ve successfully kept a guy around after the first kiss…” he trails off, pretending to count on his fingers. You gasp, appalled by the insinuation. 

“Park Jimin,” you scold. He bursts into a fit of laughter, wiping faux tears from his eyes, and you really can’t help but follow suit at the hysterics of it all. “You’re the worst.”

“I’m honest, babe,” he says through another fit of giggles. “You hate to see it.”

“Jimin? [Y/N]?” 

The laughter dies down within a millisecond. Somewhere in the distance, you swear you hear a record scratching. 

Tentatively, you crane your neck upwards. Lo and behold, Jeon Jungkook stands before your table, holding an iced coffee and looking between you and Jimin in bewilderment. He must have a tracker planted inside you, because although you had daydreamed about this scenario approximately ten times in the past few days, never did you actually think it would come to fruition. 

“Why are you here?” you blurt, and Jimin throws you a glare, facepalming. You slap a hand over your mouth. You have the sudden, embarrassing, debilitating urge to vomit. 

Jungkook laughs, and you notice the tip of his ears turning pink. “I could ask you the same thing. This is my regular spot.”

“This is—” You glance around the cafe, like the answer will appear written in invisible ink. “Since when?” 

“Since I moved to the area?” He’s donning a massive grin now, one that lights up his entire face. 

Your face falls flat. In your frantic search for a new cafe, you neglected the fact that the new spot you selected is located in Hannam-dong. Exactly where he told you he lived last week. 

Jimin’s completely forgotten his salad, jumping in to save you from the depths of shame. “Jungkook! Join us.” He’s already pulling out an empty chair before he can protest. 

Jungkook shakes his head, the hoop earrings in his ear moving with him. “I don’t want to interrupt—”

“Don’t be silly,” Jimin retorts quickly, shooting you a look that both screams: you’re an idiot and this is fate knocking at your door. “Come, sit here.”

Jungkook hesitantly sets his drink down, sitting down in the chair. “So, what were you guys laughing at before?” 

You blink a few times, utterly speechless. There’s no universe in which you admit to Jungkook what you two were discussing before his appearance. 

“Nothing crazy,” Jimin starts, and he has this glint in his eyes he only gets when he’s about to do something so diabolically crazy you’ll have to second-guess your friendship. “She was just telling me about this guy she’s playing hard to get with. Real shame, honestly. He sounds great.”

What the fuck is going on? you ask yourself silently. Your mind is shooting blanks. 

Jimin sips his water nonchalantly as if he didn’t just throw you under the bus. 

You finally muster up the courage to speak. “Jimin’s being crazy,” you say, trying to recover some dignity. “There’s no guy.”

“Really?” Jungkook’s smirk is unrattled. “At the mall, you said you had to check your calendar. It sounds like you’re pretty busy.”

Oh, he wants to play this game.  

“I am busy.” You lift your chin in defiance. 

“Doing what?” Jimin chimes in. After this lunch date, he’s lucky if you ever respond to one of his texts ever again. “You texted me yesterday saying you were bored.”

“I hope you die, Park Jimin,” you mutter.

He turns to Jungkook, a conspiratorial grin plastered on his face. “She’s playing hard to get. I told her it's a terrible strategy, but does she listen? No.”

Jungkook’s eyes don’t waver from your face. “Hard to get, huh?” 

“That is not what I’m doing,” you huff, even though that’s exactly what you’re doing, and all parties present at the table know it.

“No, it makes sense.” Jungkook nods, leaning forward in his chair. “After all, you have that busy calendar… you know, the one you need to check.”

“Exactly,” you agree. 

“And have you? Checked it, I mean?”

You stare blankly at him. 

“I’ve been meaning to.”

“Mm,” Jungkook hums, sipping his coffee. The white t-shirt and grey sweatpants combo he’s wearing today makes you feel like a rabid animal who’s been deprived of food for too long. “Who’s the lucky man?” 

“Get this,” Jimin jumps in eagerly. “She met him at the mall.”

“The mall?” Jungkook asks incredulously, dropping his chin into his open palm. 

“And she didn’t even give him her number.” Jimin continues this charade as if you’re not even sitting there. Which, you really wish you weren’t. In fact, you might just bury yourself six feet under this cafe after everything’s said and done. 

“Wow,” Jungkook tuts. “I hope that guy gets her number somehow.”

“Seems like a long shot.” You shrug, fiddling with your straw. 

“Right. I mean, we can’t forget about fate, because fate’s probably working in that guy’s favor.”

It hits you square in the chest, that Jungkook really does know exactly what he’s done, that he is perfectly aware of the effect he has on you. 

​​There's a pause. A long pause. Jimin is grinning like the Cheshire cat, and you're seriously considering faking a medical emergency.

Jungkook’s biceps strain against his shirt, tongue darting out to play with his lip ring. “You know what I think?” His voice drops several octaves, low enough for you and Jimin to hear. “I think this guy should just show up at your door. Skip all the games.”

“That would be weird,” you quip. 

“Would it?” Tilting his head, Jungkook observes you. Feels like he’s seeing right through you with x-ray goggles. “Even if you’ve been thinking about him too?” 

You’re painfully aware of how close he is, how his knee is almost touching yours under the table, how his eyes keep dropping to your lips. Your brain is short-circuiting. You can’t think, can’t breathe, can’t do anything except stare at him and wonder what would happen if you just gave in.

“There’s rules to be followed,” you finally mumble. 

“Rules for what?” Jimin snorts. 

In hindsight, that probably wasn’t the smartest excuse you could’ve conjured up. No one seems to understand the dying art of playing hard to get anymore. 

But, really, it was only a matter of time before you lost your temper and threw in the towel. You were never good at winning anything besides cheerleader championships, anyway. “The game, Jimin. The fucking game I explained to you already. Just so we’re all clear, by the way, I was trying to enjoy my lunch before you two decided to gang up on me, so thank you both very much.”

Jimin and Jungkook deadpan, eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights. 

Embarrassment courses through your veins, choking your throat. It’s not like you meant to have an outburst and openly admit you’re playing the game with Jeon Jungkook, a man who you used to ignore as if he were invisible. Sometimes a girl gets sexually frustrated and it manifests in interesting ways. 

“I’m going to the bathroom,” you grumble. You speed-walk as fast as your legs will take you, all the way to the restroom, locking yourself in one of the stalls and plopping down on the toilet. You can’t pinpoint why you’re suddenly overcome with some silly desire to win this ‘game’ you conjured up in your head, why you won’t just give in to what he so clearly wants to offer you. 

But maybe—and you don’t want to admit it—there’s a residual guilt that lives deep inside you. One that when you really face, reminds you of just how cruel you were to others in high school. There was a time in your teenage life where you thought being the queen bee of high school meant you were at the apex of the universe. Now that the tables have turned, and you’re not as big as you once were, maybe you don’t deserve what the universe is trying to offer you. 

Maybe you don't deserve what Jeon Jungkook is trying to offer you.  

It’s Sunday, but it’s hardly peaceful or restorative. Saturday night was spent partying with Yunjin and Chaewon at some club in Gangnam that served drinks comparable to battery acid, which is why you’re currently battling the worst hangover of your entire life. Your head is pounding so hard you can hear your heartbeat in your eyeballs. And you're pretty sure you're still drunk, which means the real hangover hasn't even hit yet. 

There’s no one to blame but yourself. Your brain was a broken record last night: Jungkook, high school, the game. The only way to stop the endless loop was to wash it down with copious soju shots.

Groggily, you roll over and unplug your phone from the charger. A quick scroll through your missed notifications and it’s the usual suspects: Jimin, Yunjin, Taehyung…

Wait. 

Your eyes squint into slits, trying to make sense of the unknown number that sent you one message at 8 AM. You don’t recognize it. Spam, probably. Or maybe someone from last night asking if you got home okay. You don’t remember giving your number to anyone, but then again, you don't remember much after midnight.

You unlock your phone, rub your eyes, and adjust to the bright white light of your messages. 

[phone] waited ten years to run into you again, [Y/N]. im not really interested in waiting another ten to see if fate brings us together a fourth time

It doesn’t take much time for you to put together the puzzle pieces. 

You gasp, nearly flinging yourself off your bed at the realization. You reread the message one, two, three times, just to confirm he really said your name in it. You try to do a little excited kick under your covers, but your legs are tangled in your sheets and you nearly fall off the bed.

After yesterday’s temper tantrum, you had exited the bathroom to see Jeon Jungkook no longer present at the table. Jimin shrugged, said ‘he was tired, so he went home,’ and that was the end of that. You were under the impression that you ruined the entire charade, that you wouldn’t have to worry about the game because you already lost anyway. 

But here he is, in your messages, contradicting your worst fears. 

you who’s this?

Squealing, you throw your phone to the side, but within a few seconds, it lights up again with a new message. 

[phone] wild guess?

you my amazon package?

You snort as you watch him read it and begin typing. 

[phone] close. even better 

An unwarranted smile sneaks its way onto your face. 

you enlighten me

[phone] it’s your ex chemistry tutor from high school. that weird dude 

you weird dude is how you’re choosing to introduce yourself?

[phone] trying to be humble 

[phone] so about yesterday

Your hangover creeps back into your skull, your head pounding to the beat of a drum.

you we don’t need to talk about yesterday

[phone] why not?

you because i embarrassed myself?

[phone] you didn’t. thought it was cute

[phone] may have also told your best friend i needed your number in the name of saving you from your drought, so you’re not the one who embarrassed themselves 

Staring at the message, your alcohol-riddled brain struggles to make sense of the words in front of you. Heat spreads from your chest to your neck to your cheeks. The guilt tries to claw its way up—you don’t get to feel this giddy, not about him—but your body overrules it with a decisive vote. Your hangover is completely forgotten now, replaced by a warm flutter in your stomach that has nothing to do with last night's tequila.

It’s so unlike him, the polar opposite of what Jeon Jungkook used to evoke in you, but the mere thought of him ending your sex drought sends a tingle down your spine. 

You’re grinning like a foolish schoolgirl now, dignity be damned. You save his number to your contacts, makes it official in your brain. 

you are you offering to get me out of my drought? 

You fling your phone to the opposite side of the bed, and scream into your pillow. 

The buzz causes you to shoot back up, heart thumping in your throat as you read his response. 

jungkook possibly 

Somewhere in the sky, your guardian angel is doing backflips. 

Hands shaking, heart pumping blood erratically, you type back:

you take a girl to dinner first

The three dots pop up almost immediately, and then: 

jungkook tried that already. the girl ran away from me :/ 

Technically, he’s right. You did run away. And now he’s resorted to joking about it, like it doesn’t bother him. But it should bother him. Should annoy him that the girl who didn’t acknowledge his existence in high school is now playing games with him like she has any right to. 

You don’t know how to let him be nice to you, how to let him want you, when all you can remember is a younger you rolling your eyes while he patiently explained molecular bonds. You were cruel. Mostly in small ways that probably hurt more than massive shows of dismissiveness, but harsh nonetheless. 

Guilt sits burdensome in your chest, a thorn in your side. Deep down, you’re terrified that when he finally sees you clearly—really sees you, not the filtered version you're trying to present—he’ll realize what you already know. That you were never worth the wait.

Your fingers loom over the keyboard, twiddling. The guilt is there, always there, always a dark cloud hanging. You were cruel to him. Casual about it, even. Used him like a tool and never once considered that he was a person with feelings that could be hurt.

But maybe—and this is the thought that's been needling at you since the cafe—maybe the worst thing you could do now is waste his second chance on you by playing games. Maybe the cruelest thing would be pretending you don’t want this when you so obviously, desperately do.

On the one hand, honesty is terrifying and vulnerability makes you nauseous. 

But, on the other hand…

you well maybe the girl wants to see if you’re full of shit or not 

Your heart speeds up behind the confines of your ribs. 

jungkook i’m not the same guy from high school. i don’t play about what i want 

With bated breath, you type your response. It’s a question that you know the answer to, and you don’t know why you need him to say it, but he will anyway. 

you and what is it that you want?

jungkook you. 

The night of Huh Yunjin’s birthday creeps up slowly on you, amidst a week busied with work, adult errands, and most stupidly, thoughts of Jungkook. The thoughts of him play, pause, tape spooling, and then rewind on a constant loop, unrelenting in their nature. 

You hadn’t spoken to him much after your last exchange, minus some ‘good morning’ texts from him that you responded to politely. It’s foreplay, if nothing else, because even a few words from him are enough to leave you giddy for days to come. 

You fully intend to take him up on his offer, you just don’t know when. . 

Sinkhole is packed to the brim, sweaty bodies colliding in an attempt to feel human intimacy. A disco ball hangs loosely from the ceiling, transmitting silver light across the dance floor. The DJ is spinning up cringy Top 40 hits you haven’t heard since college, but the amount of soju shots you’ve consumed within the past hour masks the embarrassment you feel. 

“Cheers to my 28th!” Yunjin yells in your ear, raising her shot glass in the air. Jimin abandons making out with Taehyung in favor of lifting his shot glass with hers, and you can’t help but join in on the festivities. 

Yunjin keeps toasting to things that get progressively more unhinged. ‘To being 28! then ‘To my IUD!’ then ‘To tax evasion!’ 

You're not sure she's even joking on that last one. 

You’ve lost count of how many you’ve taken, but the liquor burns less with each passing shot. 

“Happy birthday, baby!” Jimin leans over the table you’re all perched at, pressing a chaste kiss to Yunjin’s cheek. She giggles in delight, smiling brightly in the way only a drunk person could. 

“Oh, why thank you, Jiminie,” she laughs. “And thank you, Tae and [Y/N] for buying the table!”

It was 75% Taehyung and 25% you, but you’ll accept her gratitude. Buying a table at the club with unlimited alcohol was also part of your master plan to get absolutely obliterated and halt all thoughts of Jungkook, at least for the night. 

“[Y/N], we need to find you a hot guy tonight. That dress is doing insane things to your legs,” Yunjin whines, pushing your shoulder. “There’s soooo many boys here.”

Jimin and Taehyung share a meaningful look, one that you don’t miss. Rolling your eyes, you say, “I’m not looking for anyone tonight. I want to spend it with you.”

“Booooring.” She pokes your side, raising her voice to be heard over the sound of Usher. “If you ditch me on my birthday to fuck a hot dude, I won’t be mad.”

“But I don’t want to fuck a hot dude—”

Jimin clears his throat. “Well, actually, you do. He’s just not here right now.”

There goes your vow to ignore all Jungkook thoughts this evening. 

“Jimin.”

“What? It’s true,” he giggles, cozying up into Taehyung’s side. “The guy practically sexted you last weekend.”

Feeling caught, you busy yourself with the hem of your black bodycon dress. “Whether I fuck him or not is nobody’s business but my own,” you mumble. 

“Oh, please,” Taehyung rolls his eyes. “You’ve been needing to get laid for months. We’re your best friends, which makes it our business.”

“She’s just upset that she ignored him in high school and now he’s this big, hunky guy,” Jimin snickers. 

Taehyung frowns. “Bigger than me?” 

“Okay, enough,” you snap, pouring more soju into the empty shot glasses. “I just wanna get drunk and enjoy my night.”

“I’m sure you would enjoy your night more if you had a big, sexy man to take care of you. I know I would,” Jimin chuckles. Not in a mean way, but your heart does sink a little as you watch him give Taehyung an open-mouthed kiss. 

Yunjin turns to you. “Why haven’t you fucked him?” 

You don’t know when this became an intervention, but everyone seems arduously interested on whether or not you fuck Jeon Jungkook. 

You shrug. “I don’t know. It’s not that I don’t want to—trust me, I do—I just… feel a little bad about how I treated him in high school.”

Your friend snorts, rolling her eyes with an affectionate smile playing upon her lips. “If he felt bad about how you treated him, he wouldn’t be pursuing you.”

“She’s right,” Jimin jumps back in, and you fight the urge to slam his head into the table. He picks up a soju shot. “It’s kinda cute how desperate he seems for your attention. That’s a guy who’s gonna eat you out like his life depends on it.”

The mental image of his moist, plump lips wrapping around your clit has your thighs trembling under the table, but you clamp them before anyone can notice. 

“I’m gonna fuck him,” you promise. “I swear.”

Taehyung raises an eyebrow. “I hope you do, before someone else snatches you up.” He tilts his head in the direction of a man eye-fucking you, and your stomach queases. 

“He’s cute,” Jimin takes his shot, and you follow suit. There’s no way you’re getting through this night without getting absolutely obliterated. 

“Oooo, there’s a really cute guy over there. 12:00,” Yunjin leans into the group, whispering as lowly as she can over the sound of Kesha. 

You refuse the desire to look. Taehyung, however, lets his eyes wander to who she’s talking about. Luckily, Jimin is too entranced by pouring himself another soju shot to care. “Oh fuck me. He’s fucking sexy. I would let that man give me a rimjob.” 

You slump into the chair. Somehow you have a feeling you’re about to undergo the world’s least subtle setup. 

Jimin’s eyes nearly roll into the back of his skull. Slowly, he angles his body to see who his boyfriend is talking about. “He can’t possibly be that hot—oh my god. Oh my god.”

“What?” you and Yunjin say in unison. If you had to guess, based on Jimin’s track record and the specific tone of that ‘oh my god,’ he’s either spotted a celebrity, a firefighter in uniform, or someone from his legendary whore phase. And given that you’re at a nightclub, you're betting on option three. Jimin’s whore phase is the stuff of legend—a six-month period during sophomore year where he worked his way through half of Seoul's gay club scene. He doesn't talk about it often, mostly because Taehyung gets a very specific look on his face when it comes up, but every once in a while someone from that era will resurface and Jimin will make that exact noise.

“Who is it?” you press on, heart thumping in excitement. 

Jimin’s blonde hair sways as he turns to look back at you. “Okay, don’t panic.” 

Furrowing your brows, you start, “Don’t—”

“That’s Jungkook, you idiots. The fucking guy from [Y/N]’s high school we’ve been talking about,” he says in a hushed tone, punching Taehyung’s shoulder. 

There’s a warm feeling hugging your chest, your body feeling as though it’s been lit on fire. It might be the alcohol, or the sheer joke of it all. Out of all the scenarios you’ve conjured up in your daydreams, this wasn’t one of them. 

You turn your body to track where your friend’s eyes were just a minute ago. Even though Jimin already confirmed it, there’s a tiny part of you hoping his eyes deceive him. But there he is, Jeon Jungkook, in the flesh, talking to one of his equally attractive friends. He’s wearing all black—black t-shirt that sculpts his biceps, black baggy jeans that sit tightly on his slim waist. His hair is ruffled, hoop earrings dangling from the holes in his ear. And really, the most sickening part of it all: he has two lip rings instead of the usual one. You’re gonna be sick.

“Earth to [Y/N]...” Yunjin waves a shot in front of your face, and without preamble, you take it from her, swallowing it in one easy sip. The alcohol travels down your throat, but you barely feel the burn. 

“You good?” Taehyung raises an eyebrow. 

“Just peachy,” you lie. You smile at your friends, but they don’t seem convinced. 

Jimin guffaws, leaning back in his chair with an evil grin. “Is that why you just downed another shot?”

“I’m thirsty.”

“For alcohol or for Jungkook?” Yunjin bursts into a fit of giggles, high-fiving Jimin across the table. 

Groaning, you let your head fall into your hands. “I hope all of you die a slow and painful death.”

“He’s gotten even hotter since the last time I saw him,” Jimin notes, sipping his untouched margarita. “How is that possible?”

“Can we please talk about anything else?” You reach for the soju bottle, pouring the last of the clear liquid into your glass. Your second in thirty seconds. A new personal record.

“We will do no such thing,” Jimin’s eyes are gleaming with elation. “You need to go talk to him.”

You nearly choke on the liquor. “I’m sorry, what?” 

“Go. Talk. To. Him.” Jimin enunciates each word like you’re a toddler. 

“Are you insane?” you deadpan. “Like, actually stupid? Have you suffered a brain injury I don’t know about?”

Both Jimin and Taehyung share another unspoken look. “I’m trying to help you.” 

“But I don’t want help—”

“[Y/N].” Jimin doesn’t often get very serious, but the expression on his face makes you squirm. “I’m not letting you fuck this up.”

“I;m not fucking anything up by staying exactly where I am.” You cross your arms over your chest. Realistically, you know he’s right. If you were more drunk, maybe you would bite the bullet, march over there, and plant a kiss right on those lips you haven’t stopped thinking about. But you’re not, so at the table you will stay. 

“This is fate. This is the universe putting him a few feet away.” Jimin gestures vaguely at Jungkook. 

“The universe can fuck off, honestly.”

He sighs, “I’m doing this for your own good.”

And before you can process his movements, a lag in your brain, Jimin turns in his seat, arm raising in a wave, mouth opening to call out his name. 

“No!” You lunge across the table, knocking over Taehyung’s drink, causing him to groan. You latch onto Jimin’s arm, yanking it down forcefully. “Don’t you fucking dare, Park Jimin—”

It’s too late. 

Because in your desperate scramble to stop Jimin from committing social suicide on your behalf, you've made a scene. Swiveling your head slowly, you see Jungkook staring directly at you. 

His eyebrows are raised, a hint of a smirk playing upon his lips. His tattooed fingers toy with the straw in his drink. It feels as though time drags on for hours, as if the hands of a clock are being lugged through molasses. 

You slowly extract yourself from on top of the table, slinking into your chair with as much dignity as you can muster. Your hand comes up in the world’s most awkward, tentative wave. The tiniest flutter of your fingers. 

Jungkook’s lips stretch wider, raising his hand in return. It’s a proper wave, filled with that newfound confidence of his. Then he turns back to his friend, resuming their conversation. It’s not like you expected him to drop everything for you—or well, you kind of did.  You exhale a deep breath. “Oh my god.” You slump in your chair. “That was horrible.”

“That was… bad,” Jimin tiptoes around the word, twiddling his thumbs. 

“I’m going to have to fake my death and move to a different country—”

“Stop being a drama queen,” Yunjin cuts in, sliding a shot towards you. You don’t even know or care where it spawned from, but all you know is you need it. “He waved back. He probably thought it was cute.”

Sighing, you shake your head. “There is nothing cute about what just happened.” You down the shot, and you’ve completely lost count at this point of how many you’ve ingested. 

“Okay, new plan,” you announce, slamming the glass down. “None of that happened. We enjoy Yunjin’s birthday. We do not make eye contact with Jungkook, we do not speak about Jungkook.”

“Yeah, about that,” Jimin trails off, eyes glued to somewhere behind your shoulder. “It’s too late.”

“Too late for what?” 

“He’s coming over here.”

Your entire body halts all movement, rigid like a statue. “What?”

“He’s coming here. Right now,” Taehyung repeats, and your heart drops to your feet. A hornet’s nest of anxiety swarms your stomach, filling your body with buzzing fear. 

You shake your head frantically. “Please say you’re messing with me.”

Yunjin turns to see where Jimin and Taehyung are staring, and the moment she touches your arm, you realize you’re trapped. There’s no way out but through. 

“[Y/N]. It’s nice to see you here.” 

His voice is deeper, a low timbre that makes your brain go all fuzzy around the edges. He stands in front of the table, and you peer through your eyelashes to look up at him. 

Fuck. Fuck, he looks even better up close. 

The two lip rings catch the light of the disco ball. A silver chain dangles from around his neck and you briefly wonder what it’ll look like hanging over you while he pounds into…God, get a grip. You can catch a whiff of his cologne, something citrusy and woodsy that causes a pool of arousal in your underwear.

“Hi,” you manage a smile, struggling to hold the intense gaze he’s sporting. 

He breaks it for a moment, turning to your best friend, nodding. “Jimin, good to see you again.”

“You too, Kook. You should join us!” He scooches closer to Taehyung, patting the minimal space beside him. Jungkook stares at it, then looks back at you with a hunger in his eyes that almost has you keeling over. 

“Actually,” Jungkook begins, “I was hoping I could steal [Y/N] for a drink. If that’s okay with you all?”

He wants to... what? Steal you? For a drink? Alone? You turn to Yunjin, eyes pleading. Help me. Save me. Make up an excuse. But she was never going to let you escape where he’s involved. She looks you dead in the eye, smiles sweetly, and says, “No, she’s all yours.”

You’re going to remember this. You’re going to bring this up at every possible opportunity for the rest of her natural life.

Jungkook’s hand extends towards you, palm up, awaiting yours. For a brief second, you stare at it, at his long fingers, at the veins running down his forearm, at the silver rings stacked on his nimble fingers. The hand that's now being offered to you, in public, in front of all your friends.

You can either take his hand and let whatever this is happen, or you can make up some excuse and run away for the fourth time.

Your heart starts cartwheeling in your chest. You can’t look away from his hand, the one you desperately want to take. Jungkook watches patiently, confidently, like he knows just what you’re deciding between. 

Fuck it. 

You place your hand in his, let your fingers intertwine with his warm ones. It’s secure, and his fingers tighten around yours as if to remind you he has you. Jungkook pulls you to your feet gently. He doesn’t let go as he guides you through the crowd toward the bar, and you’re trying very hard not to think about how right it feels, how you never want him to let you go. 

He parks you at the bartop, where a woman who looks like she’d rather be anywhere else is serving alcohol to a group of minors. Jungkook pats the stool beside him, and you’re more than grateful to take the chair. Your heels have been hurting like a bitch all night. When you sink into the chair, his eyes follow the way your dress hugs your thighs, revealing more skin than your old cheer uniforms. You debate tugging it down, but a warm feeling is flooding your insides at the thought of him wanting to see more of you.  He towers above you, his AMEX hanging loosely from his deft fingers. 

“What do you like to drink?” He leans down, whispers it directly in your ear. The heat of his breath makes your entire body feel like molten lava. 

The bartender begins to make her way over, eyes gleaming when she spots Jungkook. If you were less tipsy, you might come up with a witty response, but your current state only allows you to say, “A dirty shirley, please.” 

He doesn’t make a face at the girly drink, nor bats an eyelash when the bartender touches his arm four times while he recites his order. You can only watch in awe as he hands over his card and turns his attention back to you, body angling toward you as if to shield you from every other patron who might be able to see you. The slight possessiveness he’s exhibiting would normally make you hurl, but he’s so unapologetic about it that you could care less. You hope he puts his mark on you so no man will ever speak to you again. 

Jungkook fiddles with his fingers on the counter, unsure where to put them. The only glimpse of high school Jungkook you’ve seen in days. His hand hovers near your thigh, then his jeans pocket, then back to the counter. For all his cockiness over text and possessiveness, still lies a man who’s intimidated by the thought of truly having you. 

The soju in your body hums through your veins, making everything feel hazy and like a really good idea. Liquid courage, Yunjin calls it. Liquid stupidity, sounds more precise. 

But right now… you’re thinking liquid courage might be onto something. 

Because he’s standing so close you can smell his cologne, something that smells like grapefruit and lemon. Because he angled his body to block out the rest of the bar like you’re the only person here. Because his hand is right there, inches from you, and looks like he wants to touch you so badly it’s causing him physical pain. 

And you’re tipsy enough to think: yeah, liquid courage is real. 

Before the sober, anxious part of your brain can intervene with a thousand reasons why this is a horrible idea, you reach out. Your fingers wrap around his wrist, and his eyes snap to yours, surprise written across his features. 

You don’t utter a word, just simply guide his hand until his palm settles at the small of your back. Every place where his skin connects with yours seems to tingle. 

“Is this okay?” he asks, voice low and chest rumbling with the sound. Again, his mouth is right by your ear, and you can’t think, can’t breathe, can't hear anything but him. 

“Would I have moved it there if I wasn’t?” 

His thumb strokes once against your side. “Just making sure.” 

“I’m tipsy, not drunk,” you clarify, only because you need him to know this is a choice. This is something you tried to talk yourself out of over and over again, but you want this. Liquid courage is making you brave enough to admit out loud what you only ever thought to yourself sober. “I know what I’m doing.” 

“And what are you doing?” His breath hits your cheek, the side of your mouth, and it’s laced with peppermint and whiskey, and you’re dizzy with need. 

“Giving you the green light,” you say, tilting your head to meet his gaze. His eyes are hooded, trained on your lips that are coated in shiny gloss. “That okay with you?” 

His hand tightens on your waist, pulling you incrementally closer. He doesn’t need to say anything. 

“Very okay,” he murmurs into your hair. 

The bartender returns with your drinks, but Jungkook doesn’t move his hand. He takes your dirty shirley with his free hand, passing it off to you. His grip becomes more secure, more selfish, like now that you’ve given him permission, he’s never planning on letting go. 

Good, you think. You don’t want him to. 

Jungkook’s hand wraps around the glass of whiskey, taking a slow sip. “Seems like fate was on my side tonight.” 

You take a gulp of your dirty shirley, the sweetness coating your tongue. “I’m starting to think you might be stalking me.” 

His eyebrows raise, a tiny upward twitch in his mouth. “How do I know you’re not stalking me?” 

“Oh, you would know.”

“Really?” He leans in, brown eyes sparking like pools of chocolate. “And how’s that?” 

“Because I’d be better at it,” you proclaim, emboldened by the alcohol. “You wouldn’t catch me three times in two weeks. I’d have a whole system. Disguises, a wig collection..”

He laughs loudly. You notice that his dimples pop when he does so, eyes crinkling. “A wig collection.” 

“At minimum. Maybe some fake glasses and a trench coat.” 

“Clearly, you’ve thought about this,” he hums. 

You raise your hands in defense. “I’m just saying, if I were stalking you, you’d never know it unless I wanted you to know.” 

“Should I be concerned?” he questions, but he’s grinning. 

“Depends,” you tilt your head. “Are you worth stalking?” 

His fingers spread across the expanse of your spine. “I’d like to think so.” 

“Confident.” Another sip of your dirty shirley snakes down your throat, your lips toying with the straw as you peer up at him. 

His gaze never leaves yours. “Besides, you’re the one who guided my hand to your back. If anyone's being forward here…” 

That almost makes you choke on your sugary drink. “I was just—”

“Giving me the green light,” he finishes. “I remember. Trust me, I remember.” 

Your mind stumbles, then short-circuits. 

You resort to drinking more alcohol, needing something to do with your hands that’s not touching him. “This is crazy, right? Us, here?” 

“Crazy how?” 

“You know how. I mean, ten years ago, I was copying your chemistry homework, and now you’re so… you’re…”

There’s not a single English word that properly describes what present day Jeon Jungkook does to you, with his tattoos and lip rings and expensive cologne and platinum credit card and… fuck. 

“I’m what?” He leans closer, waiting, expecting. 

“This.” you say helplessly. “All of this.” 

“Is there something wrong with.” he uses his free hand to motion over his toned body, “this?”

“No. Nothing. That’s the problem.” It slips out before you can stop it. “It would be easier if something was wrong with it.” 

The hand not looped around your waist moves from the bartop to your dress, fingers finding the hem where it’s ridden up on your thigh. He plays with the fabric absentmindedly, rolling it between the pads of his fingers. “If no one’s told you, by the way,” he mutters just loud enough for you to hear him over the music, “this dress looks insane on you.” 

The wind is knocked out of your chest, a jolt of electricity flashing through your core. “No one’s told me yet. You’re the first.” 

His eyes drag up from where his fingers are flirting with your dress, traveling up your body until they meet yours. “You look fucking gorgeous,” he says. “There. Now I'm the second to say it.” 

It’s hard to breathe, hard to swallow. Even harder to find words, or form a coherent sentence. 

“You—I—you can’t—”

“Can’t..?” His hands don’t dare move from your dress, knuckles occasionally brushing against your thigh. “Can’t tell you the truth?”

“You know what you’re doing, Jungkook.” 

“I do,” he agrees. “Is it working?” 

You want to lie. Want to play it cool. Want to maintain some semblance of the upper hand. 

But your downfall was inevitable, right from the moment you saw him standing in the cafe. Like a champagne bottle that someone shook a little too hard, a balloon pressed against a thumbtack. It was always meant to explode. 

“Yes,” you admit. 

“Good.” Both of his hands move to grip the side of your barstool. In one smooth movement, he turns you to face him completely. His legs spread, creating space, and he guides the stool forward with his toe until your thighs slot between his.  He’s caging you in, hands landing atop your thighs, palms warm against your bare skin. 

You’re practically pressed against him, his face level with yours, “Is this okay?” he asks again, fingers digging into the flesh. 

Suddenly, it’s like you’re painfully aware of all the places where he isn’t touching you. Your faces, your chests. You want more, need more. 

“Stop asking me that,” you mumble, looking away, but he guides your gaze back with a finger under your chin. 

“I need to know, princess.” His tone is serious, but you want to smile from the pet name. “Tell me if it’s too much.” 

“It’s not,” you whisper. “It’s not too much.” 

“No?”

“No.” 

His hands slide up your thighs, hiding underneath the fabric, pushing a boundary that hasn't been tested in a long time. “What about now?’ 

You’re going to combust. Right here, in the middle of  Sinkhole, surrounded by people, you're going to burst into flames.

“Still okay,” you exhale. 

For one exhilarating second, his eyes drop to your lips, and you think you’ll get what you’ve been seeing in your dreams the past few nights. You need to get out of here. Away from the crowd, away from the noise, somewhere you can actually hear yourself think—or not think. Preferably not think.

“Do you want to…” you start, then hesitate. The words die on your tongue. 

He cocks his head, hair flopping into his eyes. “Do I want to…” 

Your heartbeat reverberates in your throat. “Talk somewhere more private? It’s loud here.” 

His composure shifts, and you watch the realization hit him. What you're suggesting. What that implies.

“Private,” he repeats. “To talk.” 

“Yes.” 

“About?” 

You deadpan, brain racking for a subject, any subject. “Stuff,” is what you come up with.

A dry laugh escapes him. “And maybe things as well?” 

You pout. “Important stuff.” 

“I’m sure.” His smile is lopsided, goofy and full of light.  He pulls you up from the barstool until your feet touch the ground again. His hand finds your fingers, easily lacing them. “Whatever you want, princess.” 

Where the fuck did that come from? When did he become the type of person to use pet names? And why is it working? Why is that single word making your entire nervous system light up like a Christmas tree?

Tugging you through the crowd, he peers behind him every few seconds to make sure you haven’t floated away. His hand is firm around yours, guiding you through the mass of bodies, and you try and catch a glimpse of any of your friends. 

Unfortunately, you do spot Jimin and Taehyung, pressed against a wall, entranced in a makeout session so intense that they’re definitely not coming up for air soon. At least you won’t have to explain to them where you went. Yunjin is nowhere to be found, probably on the dance floor or already home with one of her many flings. 

Jungkook pulls you through another section of the crowd, leading you down a side hallway that’s mercifully empty. The music is muffled, bass still thumping through the walls but not deafening anymore. You lean back against the cold concrete, the chill a shock against your overheated skin. The wall vibrates with each bass drop, humming in your chest. 

Jungkook stops in front of you, and you have to tilt your head back to see his face. “What did you want to talk about?”  

Your mind shoots blanks. In this dim hallway, you’ve become aware of how completely the tables have turned. Ten years ago, you held all the cards. You were the girl who made him nervous, who had him stumbling over words, who could get him to do anything with a smile and a flutter of your eyelashes. But now you’re the one who’s heart is racing, who feels like you might explode from a single touch. He has the upper hand, utterly, entirely. And you handed it to him willingly. Put his hand on your waist, guided him here, and now you’re putty in his hands and he knows it. 

“You make me nervous,” you blurt out. 

The silence that engulfs you feels like punishment. Your mouth goes dry, palms sweating under the guise of his stare. 

He takes a step closer. There’s little to no space between you. “That’s interesting.” 

“Why is that interesting?” Your back is pressed against the wall. Nowhere to go. 

“You used to make me nervous,” he says, bracing his hand on the wall. His bicep strains and you have to fight the urge to ogle at them. “For years.” 

“That was different, Jungkook.” 

“Was it?” He studies you. “In what way?” 

“Well, because now you’re you, and I’m—“

“I’m me?” His eyebrows raise an inch, lips curling upwards in a smirk. “What does that mean?” 

Why did you drink so much alcohol? Why, why, why? Maybe if you hadn’t, your lips wouldn’t be so goddamn loose. Your filter would still be in tact. You wouldn’t be staring at him like you want to devour him whole. 

You peer up at him, eyelashes fluttering. His cheeks are flushed from the amount of drinks he’s consumed, and he’s close enough that you can see the moles that litter his face. The one under his lip. The one on his nose. You want to kiss each and every single one of them. Map them out with your lips until you have them memorized. 

You give up on any pretense of playing it cool. “You know you’re hot, Jungkook.” 

“Do I know?” The smirk on his face grows tenfold, and god, you want to kiss it off him. “You’ve never told me this before.” 

“High school was different.” 

“You’ve said that a lot, but it’s actually not that different,” he murmurs. 

“Hm?”

His gaze drops to your lips for the hundredth time tonight. “Because I’m still so fucking unbelievably, out of my mind, attracted to you.”

Your brain struggles to process it—that he’s felt this way for years. That it never went away. That all the confidence and cockiness is built on top of the same desire that made teenage Jungkook stutter around you.

“You’re just saying things,” you whisper. But you’ve known. You’ve always known. 

His hand falls from the wall to cup your jaw. “You think I begged Jimin for your number because I was just being polite? You think I showed up at three different cafes hoping fate would bring us together because I’m casual about this?”

“But you said that cafe was your regular spot—”

He fights to hide the smile creeping onto his face. “I’ve wanted you since I was a teenager.” His thumb brushes across your cheekbone. “Somehow, impossibly, I want you even more now.” 

Your heart is trying to break out of the confines of your ribcage. “Jungkook.” 

His forehead is almost touching yours. “What’s different is that now I’m not terrified to tell you.”

You don’t know what else to say to him, so you smile as brightly as you can, letting your happiness live on your face. 

“How many drinks have you had tonight?” he asks. 

You scrunch your brows together. “A lot of soju. That dirty shirley. Why?” 

Bluntly, he says, “Because I want to kiss you. But not if you’re too drunk to remember it tomorrow.” 

You squeak, back slightly arching off the wall. You’ve never wanted anything more, never ached to feel someone the way you do him. Heat travels through your veins, burning you to your core. 

“I told you, I’m tipsy,” you rush to protest. “I’ll remember this tomorrow.” 

It should be embarrassing how quickly you reassure him, how the words tumble out of your mouth. 

His forehead presses against yours, and it’s a miracle you don’t dissolve into a puddle. “Then can I—”

“Yes,” you interrupt. If he doesn’t kiss you in the next five seconds, you might actually die. 

“I didn’t finish the question.” His lips ghost over yours, a gentle taste of what you yearn for. 

“I don’t care what the question is,” you exhale. “The answer is yes.” 

And then his lips are on yours. 

Never in your high school years did you imagine how Jeon Jungkook kissed. Never thought about how his lips would feel against your own. Never cared to think about it. 

This past week, however, you’ve spent more time imagining this exact scenario than you’ve spent breathing. But reality is superior to whatever your brain could conjure up. Your imagination could never describe Jungkook’s demanding kiss, or the way his lips melt into yours with utmost certainty. His hand slides from your jaw to your cheek, cradling it. The other hand finds your waist, pulling you flush against him. 

A mix of a gasp and a moan falls from your lips, and he swallows it wholly. Your fists find his shirt, tugging on the fabric, pulling him closer even though there’s no space between you. His lip rings are cold against your mouth, a contrast to the heat of his lips and the heat between your thighs. Parting your lips, his tongue sweeps in, tastes just like you smelled earlier—whiskey and peppermint. Your lip gloss is definitely everywhere at this point—on him, on you, probably on the wall behind you—but you couldn’t care less.

His strong hand travels from your cheek down, down, fingers wrapping loosely around your throat. Claiming, holding. The possessiveness of the gesture sends heat pooling low into your stomach. Jungkook’s thumb presses into your pulse point, feeling how your heart is racing. 

And when you do finally pull away, your heart is still going berzerk. His lips are shiny with your gloss, pink and swollen and thoroughly kissed. You can't help but giggle at the sight. 

“What?” he asks, breathless. The tips of his ears are tickled pink.

“You’re wearing my lip gloss,” you giggle again, reaching up to wipe it with your thumb. But he doesn’t let you get far, catches your wrist and presses a kiss right where your flowery perfume is sprayed. He takes a deep inhale and smiles back at you like you hung the moon and stars. Your heart is pumping so wildly you’re worried it might actually burst out of your chest.

Then his lips are on your neck, trailing down to your exposed collarbone, finding every sensitive spot with ease like he already knows you, like he holds the map to your body. He holds you tight to him, grounding—and thank god because your legs are shaking so badly that you're not sure you could stand without him holding you up.

“Jungkook,” you gasp, and he hums against your skin. His mouth finds your jaw, pressing open-mouthed kisses, and you’re pretty sure you’re going to pass out. Your fingers thread through his unruly dark brown locks, tugging slightly at the nape. 

And you can’t really help the intrusive thoughts that leap in your mind, the tidal wave of desire that keeps lapping at your core. He’s insatiable, and you feel gluttonous. “Do you wanna—” you start, but his teeth graze your pulse point and your brain turns to mush. “maybe—ahh—go to mine?”

He halts, pulls back enough to look at you. “Is that what you want?” His voice is strained, the thread of self-control growing weaker and weaker. 

Your brain is fuzzy from alcohol and kissing and the feeling of his hands on your waist, but you know what you're saying. You know what you're offering. You’re done fighting whatever decade-old guilt lives inside you, because you deserve him. Maybe you’re finally ready to accept it. To trust that you’ve grown, that you’re growing, that you’re not done growing and thats okay. You deserve all the good that Jeon Jungkook has to offer. “Yes,” you breathe, “I want—I want you.”

His eyes search for hesitation. “You’ve been drinking, and I don't want you to feel like you need to—”

“I’m sure.” Cupping his face in your hands, you cut his sentence in half. Don’t even let it slip between you. “I know what I want.”

Somehow, his eyes have gone darker, fingers tightening for purchase. “Say it again,” he murmurs. 

“I want you, Jungkook.” Your thumb brushes against his bottom lip, catching on his lip rings. “Take me home.”

“Fucking hell,” he practically moans, and then his lips are on you again with an urgency that wasn’t there before. “We should probably tell your friends we’re leaving.”

“Jimin’s busy.” If you had to guess, he’s on his knees at home, getting topped by Kim Taehyung. “And Yunjin will understand. Your friends?”

“They know who you are.”

A swarm of butterflies kick up in your stomach. 

You tug on his shirt. “Now can we please go before I lose my mind?” 

His answer to that is another quick kiss—but still thorough, because who is he if not a man starved—and he pulls you through the hallway, back into the club, into the thick of the chaos still lingering this late in the night. You hardly register any of it. The lights, the bass of the music, the bodies pressing against you as you squeeze by. None of it matters. 

You feel like you’re floating, like your feet are moving but you can’t feel the ground, like you’re walking on clouds. His hand is wrapped around yours, pulling you forward, and you’d follow him anywhere right now. To the ends of the earth. Off a cliff. 

Once the crisp night air hits your skin, Jungkook is already scanning the street, hand raised to hail a taxi. One pulls up within seconds—it’s got to be fate, or the universe supporting your agenda to get laid—and he opens the door, ushering you inside with a hand on the small of your back. 

Jungkook shuts the door forcefully, immediately snuggling into your side, leaving little to no room for you to create space between you two. Not that you wanted to, but you want to giggle at how utterly fearful he seems of distance from you. 

“Where to?” the driver asks, eyeing Jungkook in the rearview. 

You rattle off your address, and the cab pulls off into traffic. Seoul at this hour is never quiet—in fact, it’s usually more lively, since clubs stay open until the wee hours of the morning. But all you can really focus on is Jungkook beside you, his thigh pressed against yours in the cramped backseat. His fingers lace through yours. An innocent, sweet gesture, a complete contrast from what was happening ten minutes ago against that hallway wall.  

You look down at your intertwined hands—his so much larger than yours, rings cool against your skin. A smile bestows upon your lips. When you glance up at him, he’s staring at you with this fond expression that makes your heart stutter.

“What?” you ask, giddy. 

“Nothing,” he replies, but the smile on his face doesn’t disappear. “I just can’t believe this is happening.” 

“Me neither,” you admit sheepishly. 

His hand reaches over, tugging the hem of your dress down where it’s ridden up your thigh. The action would be chivalrous, if not for the way his fingers linger, if not for the way his jaw clenches, if not for the way his fond expression darkens into something sinister. 

“You need to stop moving,” he says, a deep exhale following his words. 

You roll your eyes. “I’m not even moving.”

“Your… dress is moving.” His hand remains on your thigh, holding the fabric down. “I can’t hold it together if this dress rides up any more.” 

“Oh.” 

He shifts in his jeans, clearly uncomfortable. You have to fight not to avert your eyes to his crotch. 

“Do you know how long it’ll take to get to her apartment?” Jungkook asks the driver. You snort loudly. 

He shrugs. Clearly, the man has never shared Jungkook’s predicament, because he looks unbothered by the urgency in his voice. “About twenty minutes.” 

Jungkook groans, leaning back into the seat, closing his eyes for a second. When he opens them again and catches your gaze, he has to close them to calm his friend down there. And it does make you giggle again, but what you want more than anything is to feel him. For him to give you a part of him that you didn’t know you needed until now. 

You whisper in his ear. “I don’t want you to hold it together.”

His eyes fly open, and you watch his Adam’s apple bob up and down. “Don’t tempt me right now, [Y/N].”

“Why not?” And you pull out your tricks—you bat your eyelashes, tilt your head down, lick your lips to wet them. His face grows pale. 

“Because we’re in a cab,” he murmurs, staring at your lips. “And I’m trying to be respectful.”

“Maybe I want you to disrespect me right now.”

The words are barely out of your mouth before he's kissing you again. His hand leaves your dress to cup your face, angling your head so he can kiss you deeper. 

The cab driver clears his throat. You both ignore him, too hypnotized by the other to think about stopping. He pulls you as close as he can, and a frustrated noise escapes from your lips. There’s too many layers, too much distance, and he smiles knowingly against your lips. 

He seems to know just what you need. 

Jungkook’s large hand lands on your knee, caressing the supple skin. 

“You know how to be quiet, baby?” 

You nod meekly. 

His voice brushes against the shell of your ear, hand traveling up your thigh to mask itself under the fabric of your dress.  “Good girl. Spread your legs for me.”

Eyes widening, you stare up at him blankly. There is no way on this planet, Jeon Jungkook, the man who you were sure—up until now—never had his first kiss, is about to finger you in a taxi. But his hand moving near your lace panties says otherwise. You jolt forward at the feeling of his deft fingers swiping at the fabric as discreetly as possible. You gasp, and he tosses you a look before you slap your hand over your mouth. Luckily, the taxi driver seems more focused on the fastest route to your apartment than whatever debauchery is occurring in his backseat. It’s also dark in the car, impossible for the naked eye to see Jungkook’s movements. 

He presses against the wet spot on your underwear, and heat creeps up your neck at the realization of just how turned on he’s had you since the hallway. Maybe even before then, if you’re being honest. He smiles at the revelation. 

Your nails dig into the leather seat of the cab. Jungkook’s tattooed fingers push aside your underwear, his pointer finger collecting the arousal. A whimper escapes you, and when you look at him, the look on his face sends another round of wetness dripping down his finger. “God, baby, you’re so fucking wet,” he whispers into your ear, letting two fingers ghost over your clit, gently pushing the bundle of nerves. “Didn’t know public sex turned you on so much.” 

You bite back a moan. The teasing pace he’s set over your clit would be fun, if you had a constant stream of sexual endeavors, but unfortunately, you’re as desperate as a raccoon sifting through trash. Gripping onto his wrist, you push him onto you fiercely. “Needy, aren’t we?” he mutters. 

All you can reply with is a quick nod. He chuckles softly, rubbing circles on your clit with the pad of his pointer and middle finger. Your head falls back on the headrest, eyes squeezed tight, tight, tight as you try to calculate how he found your clit so fast. It’s so wet, dripping onto the seat, his hands, that you could cum just from the stimulation of it all. 

“What do you want, princess? Hm?” Somehow, it sounds like he’s far away from you, like you’re caught on your own cloud of bliss. You want to ask for more, need more like it’s oxygen. His rhythm slows just a tad, enough to have your eyes flying open. “I asked you a question.”

Oh. Oh. So he’s that kind of guy. 

“I want—I want your fingers,” you whisper feebly. 

“Yeah? Where, princess? I’ll give you whatever you want.” he kisses your shoulder, your jaw, and it makes your brain fuzzy around the edges. 

The tantalizing pace he’s set on your clit makes it hard to speak. “W-want you to fuck me with them.”

His lips curl upwards, eyes blazing. “You like my fingers?” Another nod. He removes his fingers from your clit, slipping back out underneath your dress. You’re about to protest, maybe even kick him out of the car, until you watch him make direct eye contact with you, and place his fingers in his mouth, letting his tongue swirl around the digits. You blink. What the actual fuck have you gotten yourself into?

“Please, Jungkook,” you beg, your nails scrambling to dig in his clothed thigh. He chastises you, laughs at you, before slithering under your dress again, plunging his fingers directly into your sopping entrance. You gasp, loud enough to make the driver look in the rearview, but you bite your bottom lip before any more can escape. “I know you can take it. If you can take that douchebag Kim Mingyu, you can handle me. Although, after I’m done with you, my name might be the only name you moan for the rest of your life.” 

You should hate that. You really, really should. But clearly, your dignity has taken the night off, and in its place is a woman who is so endeared over being degraded by Jeon Jungkook. 

His fingers pump in and out, achingly slow, making you feel every inch. You’re gripping his thigh so tightly you swear there’ll be claw marks. Your head rests on the back of your seat, chest heaving. If not for the sound of traffic outside, the driver might be able to hear the way your pussy squelches with each movement. 

Jungkook’s lips press against your jaw, litter around your neck. “More,” you mumble, sounding drunker than you did in the club. 

“God, you’re so fucking wet. I can’t wait to be inside you. Gonna fuck you all night.” Lewd words continue to spill from his lips. Sending waves of arousal onto his fingers, more for him to play with as he picks up his pace. He curls his fingers upwards, reaching that sensitive spot that far and few men have ever found. Your body trembles, thighs shaking, and Jungkook’s hand lands on them to try and steady you. 

His thumb finds your clit, rubbing sloppy circles as he brings you to the brink of your orgasm. Your eyes fight to stay open, looking over at Jungkook—and holy hell. His arm veins are popping out, mostly from the amount of effort he’s putting into fucking into you to completion, his dark hair flopping over his face. His silver chain bounces off his chest, reflecting on the city lights outside. 

And you don’t even realize how quickly you’re about to cum, tears brimming your eyes from the way his fingers pump in and out you wildly, thumb matching his pace over your clit. “So tight around my fingers, princess. You gonna cum?” 

There’s no way you can be quiet about this. Not with how fucking good he looks, not with how easily his fingers slip in and out you, hitting your sweet spot. You bury your head in his neck, moaning into his warm skin, trying to muffle the sound as much as possible. “Fuck, Jungkook.” 

“Want you to cum on my fingers, princess. Can you do that for me?” You nod into his neck. 

Your walls clench around his fingers one last time, to the point where he can hardly move them, his thumb working you through the orgasm that ripples through your body. Your fingers claw at his arm, teeth biting at his neck. You can feel yourself lose control, heart beating erratically in your chest. 

Jungkook’s fingers halt inside you, thumb coaxing you through the rest of your orgasm. “It’s okay, princess. I’ve got you.” 

Your body completely slumps into him, still feeling full with his two fingers inside you. 

Finally, after he allows you a moment to catch your breath, he pulls them out of your pussy, soaked with your creamy arousal. “Open,” he says gently, but when you look up at him, his gaze is hardly sympathetic. Your lips part for him, and he places his fingers on your tongue. You swirl it around, tasting yourself, sweet and salty and warm, foreign to you. Jungkook’s eyes never leave yours. 

“Good job, baby,” he says as he removes his fingers, pressing one, two chaste kisses on your lips. 

All things considered, you’re in absolute shock. Somewhere between high school and now, Jeon Jungkook learned how to kiss like he’s trying to ruin you for all other men. Where did he learn all this? Who taught him to do that thing with his fingers? How does he know exactly where to put his hands, exactly how much pressure to use to make you lose your mind?

The thought of him practicing on other people—other girls—makes something ugly twist in your stomach. 

You’re an evil, evil girl. “Where’d you learn all that?” 

He raises an eyebrow, tucking a strand of your loose hair behind your ear. “Are you asking about my sexual history now?” 

“No.”

“You are,” he teases. “You’re not jealous, right?”

If only he knew how ill you felt at the idea of another girl knowing how his fingers can easily find their g-spot. 

“I am not jealous.” You feign indifference, but your voice comes out all defensive and petulant, which kind of ruins it all. “Just asking a question.” 

“You want to know who I've been with?” he asks, clearly trying not to laugh. 

“Never said that.” 

He presses another soft kiss against your lips. “There’s been other people. I’m not going to lie about that. But that’s not a big deal.” 

You furrow your brows. “Why?” 

His thumb traces circles on your thigh. “Because I thought about you during all of it. I wondered what you’d feel like, wondered what sounds you would make. So, yeah,” he continues. “I learned some things. But I only ever wanted to use them on you.” 

You kiss him again because you don’t know what else to do with the feeling expanding in your chest. Because he’s looking at you like that and saying things like that and your heart is fluttering out of your body. God, if that doesn’t make you want to drag him upstairs immediately.

The cab pulls up to your building and Jungkook is already pulling out his wallet, throwing bills at the driver without checking the amount. "Keep the change," he says, and then he's out of the cab, pulling you with him.

Your legs are unsteady when you stand—from the alcohol, from the kissing, from everything—and his arm wraps around your waist, steadying you. “I’m not done with you yet, princess.” 

And, really, he’s not joking because he’s on you the second you step through the door to your apartment. Barely even crosses the threshold before his lips are colliding with yours passionately, slamming your spine into the wall by your entryway. His hands cup your cheeks entirely. He can’t get enough of you, like opposite poles of a magnet attracting. Shortly after his affair with the entryway, Jungkook moves a little more down your hallway, but you’re too focused on kissing him to direct him. Your shoes are discarded, purse on the floor, and then your back finds another cool wall to rest against. 

Jungkook assaults your neck, leaving a trail of bruises that are going to take a hell of a lot of explaining tomorrow. Your apartment probably sounds like the set of some cheap porno, what with Jungkook’s whimpers and your moans, and neither of you are even naked yet. Your hands run over the front of his chest, feeling his sculpted body underneath his shirt. 

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he murmurs into your collarbone, where he’s leaving hickeys in his wake. His hands wander over your chest, cupping them over your dress. Without another word or warning, he yanks down the top of your dress, your breasts spilling out. You can’t help the gasp that escapes you as he manhandles you, his lips coming to wrap around your hardened nipple. His tongue swipes over the sensitive nub, eyes peering up expectantly, watching every facial expression that contorts on your face. 

Your eyes squeeze tightly, a kaleidoscope of color blooming behind your vision. “Jungkook,” you moan, carding your fingers through his unruly hair. 

Without preamble, Jungkook kisses your nipples one last time before dropping to his knees on your hardwood floor with a resounding thump. 

You open your eyes. The sight in front of you is fucking ungodly. If you look closely, you can see Jungkook from high school, expectantly looking up at you with puppy dog eyes, pushing your dress up to hang around your waist. 

“W-what are you doing?’ you ask. 

He looks drunk. “Need to eat you out. I want to taste you, princess.”

You don’t remember the last time a man has looked so needy to feel you, to taste you. Actually, you can’t remember a time this even occurred. 

You exhale. “Yes. Yes, please.” 

That’s all he really needs. Jungkook doesn’t waste a moment more in burying his face between your folds as though it’s his last meal on earth. His fingers come to spread your lips open for him as he flicks his tongue over your nub, sending you bent over as you scramble for purchase in his hair, his shoulders, anything. “Oh, fuck, Jungkook, right there.” 

He notices your struggle to stand upright, and then he’s guiding your leg over his shoulder, toes dangling. He moans into your pussy, a breathy little exhale that sends fire shooting through your veins. Jungkook’s strong arm holds your leg in place over his shoulder. His tongue fucks inside of you shallowly, your eyes rolling backwards. “Tastes so sweet, so fucking heavenly, baby,” he mutters but it barely makes its way into your ears. You can feel his lip rings swiping over your arousal, the cool metal causing your thighs to quake uncontrollably. 

And then you’re just babbling profanities, a mantra of his name, curse words. A litany of praise. Some other embarrassing things you hope he never remembers. 

“I feel g-guilty. For the way I treated y-you in high school,” you stammer, quivering against his face as he licks another stripe up your slit. 

You don’t know why it’s all coming out now, but it is. God, you were such a bitch in high school. Such an egotistical brat who was too caught in her own ways to ever see that there was more to life than social status and cheerleading. 

His tongue encircles your clit, one of your hands flying to his hair to tug. “Don’t feel guilty,” he murmurs. “That’s not what I want you to feel right now. I want to make you feel good.” 

His tongue travels from your hole to your clit, and normally the rhythm would throw you off, but he’s so skillful about the whole thing that you’re teetering on the brink of an orgasm. And he must know, must be able to read your body like it’s something he spent years studying, because he’s sucking on your clit, letting his tongue flick over it repeatedly, maintaining a rhythm that has you screaming, “Oh fuck, oh shit, I’m gonna—Jungkook, I’m gonna cum.” 

That doesn’t deter him the slightest. Spurs him on like he’s entered in some kind of pussy-eating competition. You’ll spend years talking about this experience, you think. 

Your fingers tighten in his hair, tangling, tugging, and your entire body vibrates as your orgasm crashes over you in waves. He fucks you through it, keeps going until you’re pushing him away with your toe forcefully. When he finally gives up, he says from between your legs, “Better than Kim Mingyu?” 

Maybe you shouldn’t care about high school anymore, but you can’t help but laugh, smile at him. “He never even ate me out, Koo.” 

His face softens— whether that’s because of the nickname you adorned him with or the fact that Mingyu was an asshole, you’ll never know—and he’s standing up, pressing a dirty kiss to your lips. It’s messy, sloppy, tongue over teeth, but so undeniably him that you cling to him like a koala. “He’s the biggest idiot of all time to miss out on that.” 

“Hmm,” you hum against his lips. They taste just like you, and it sends another gush of arousal pouring out of you. His hands slide down your sides, gripping your waist, your hips, pulling you impossibly closer. You’re drowning in him—his taste, his smell, the way he’s kissing you like he’s been starving for it. You can feel his length poking against your thigh, and your heart skips at just how large it al;ready feels through his jeans. 

Your hands roam down his chest, feeling the firm muscle beneath his shirt, tracing lower until your fingers find his belt. You fumble with the buckle, fingers clumsy with desire. Jungkook looks down at your manicured fingers, easily working, speaking to how much experience you have. His cock throbs at the thought. 

You’re about to get on your knees, return the favor, but he stops you as soon as you lower an inch. 

Jungkook simply says, “The next time I want you to cum, is going to be on my cock.” 

Okay, yes sir. He’s all dominating and commanding and it makes your pussy clench around nothing. 

His forehead drops against yours, breath punching out of him. “Fuck, I need to be inside you.” 

The metal clinks as his pants drop to the floor, his Calvin Klein boxers doing little to hide how big he is. Jungkook kicks them off, eager to remove as many layers as possible. Your mouth salivates, and you’re positive a sliver of drool is slithering out of your mouth. His hands tighten on your hips, bruising the skin. 

You kiss him again, but this time, it’s rougher, faster, hand slipping beneath the waistband of his boxers, and he makes a sound between a groan and a whimper that makes you feel powerful.  Your hands roam, searching, until—

Holy shit. You gasp into his mouth, feeling his length. He’s big, no doubt about that. But it’s the fucking girth of it that has your mouth watering. He’s thick, and you can feel the veins that decorate his cock. 

Jesus Christ. This is what your Chemistry tutor was hiding under his pants. A fucking anaconda. 

But you’re not about to admit that. 

No shot in hell. 

“Mhmm, I feel like you’re kinda small,” you tease, battling your eyelashes at him as you stroke his hardened length dangerously slow. 

His nostrils flare. “Yeah? Think I’m small, baby?” 

“Tiny.”

Your thumb drags over his tip, and then you feel it. A piece of metal. Jeon Jungkook has a fucking dick piercing. 

His eyes set ablaze as he realizes that you know. “Fucking hell, you’re still the same brat you’ve always been.”

Jungkook’s lips collide with yours, and he kicks off his boxers urgently. “Fuck,” he breathes against your mouth. Suddenly his hands are gripping the backs of your thighs, lifting you up like you weigh nothing. You gasp, legs wrapping around his waist as your back hits the wall harder. The new position puts you at eye level with him, head spinning. He reaches down between your bodies to let his cock sit in between your wet folds, ever so teasing. 

Your fingernails dig into the nape of his neck, head lolling back against the wall. “Please fuck me, Koo. Wanna feel you inside me.”

“Oh, now you want to beg? After you called me tiny?” He hisses as he swirls the tip over your clit, the cool metal of his piercing sending shockwaves down your spine. 

“Please,” you beg. “Pleasepleaseplease.” It’s slurred when it leaves your mouth, breath catching when you look down and see the way the metal reflects off his soaking tip, encased in your juices. “I need it.” 

With that, he pushes into you, all inches of his length, squirming in his arms. You scramble to hold onto something, opting for his biceps that are straining with the weight of holding you up. A moan leaves both of your mouths. He waits until you’re fully adjusted, taking every inch of him. “Feels so good, princess. So tight and warm, holy shit.” 

“Jungkook,” you pant. You’re so full of him, he’s everywhere. Stopping is the last thing on your mind. You’re a woman made of greed. “You’re so—fuck—big.” 

He smiles triumphantly and takes that as his sign to move. He uses his arms to slide you up and down his cock, slamming you onto him, your clit meeting his pubic bone. The piercing drags against your walls with each thrust, hitting the sweet spot inside you that has you screaming a litany of crude words that’ll have your neighbors knocking your door down tomorrow morning. His head falls to the crook of your shoulder, burying himself in your scent. 

It’s more than you’ve ever taken, beyond any sex you’ve ever had in your life. You’re going to be ruined for all other men and you haven’t even made it to the bedroom yet. Your past lovers are about to become a footnote. A distant memory. Ancient fucking history.

The sound of your pussy squelching with each rough thrust fills the room, Jungkook’s hairline beading with sweat as he furiously pounds into you, tits bouncing in his face. He begins to babble, “Used to cum so hard thinking about you, baby. You in that—fuck—cheer uniform, with your nipples hard. I wanted to push it to the side and fuck you.”

You moan at the thought. “Yeah, why didn’t you? I would’ve rode your face with your glasses on.” 

He presses a sloppy kiss on the side of your mouth. “Bet you would’ve loved that, huh? Deflowering the nerd?”

The mental image flashes through your mind—seventeen-year-old Jungkook, all awkward limbs and nervous stammering, those thick-framed glasses sliding down his nose while you sat on his face in the library after hours. You would’ve been so mean about it too. Would’ve made him beg, would’ve had him so desperate and eager to please that he would’ve done anything you asked. Would’ve probably given him the best night of his teenage life and then ignored him in the hallway the next day because you were dating Mingyu and had a reputation to maintain.

“I would’ve made you cum—ahh, shit—so hard.” You try your hardest to maintain eye contact, but everytime you do, your walls flutter around his cock. “You would’ve been obsessed.”

“I was already obsessed,” he groans, nipping at your jaw. His balls slap against your ass, adding to the horrific amount of sounds eliciting from your apartment. “It couldn’t have gotten much worse.”

He has a very fair point. 

You thread your fingers through his hair, already on the brink of another orgasm. Everything about him—his scent, the way his tattoos glisten with sweat, how his bottom lip is tugged underneath his front teeth—sends your mind into delirium. He’s fucking you with enough force to have your head bouncing off the wall every few thrusts, that you feel it resound along your bones. 

“Fuck, I don’t wanna cum yet,” he whimpers into your skin. “But god, I don’t think I’ll be able to last.”

Neither will you, but an idea sparks in your pretty little head. You crook a finger under his jaw, making him look at you. His expression is completely fucked out, lips swollen, cheeks ruddy. His thrusts slow, enough so that he can pay attention to your words. “I want to get on top. Let me fuck you, Jungkook.” 

He nods, and then he’s readjusting you in his arms, with you clinging to him like a newborn baby. You giggle as he frantically tries to find your bedroom, pausing every few moments to press a few kisses to your cheeks and lips. 

Finally, he locates your room, plopping you down on the bed, and you moan at the sudden emptiness you feel with his cock gone. He tosses his t-shirt over his head. 

Jungkook sits up against the headboard, gently stroking his length as he watches you move to bracket his thighs, settling over his tip. “Ready for me, princess?” 

Eagerly, you shake your head in approval, and you sink down inch by inch onto his length. For some reason, in this position, it feels like he’s stretching you out more, your walls sucking him in greedily. Your hands come to rest on his beefy chest, nails digging into the skin. 

There’s not many things you're good at, but one thing you are insanely talented at? Riding cock like it’s your god given right. Your hips undulate wildly, bouncing up and down to accommodate his full length. Jungkook watches in awe, in a trance, as you cream his cock. His hands come to sit at your hips, guiding you the best he can. His head rests against the headboard, lazily watching as you play with your tits. “Ride my cock,” he groans, “just like that, princess.”  

“You stretch me out so good, Jungkook,” you moan, thighs trembling with each movement. He can feel you getting closer to the edge, already riled up from the previous position. Your walls clench around him, sucking him in. His thumb falls to your clit again, finding it so easily after so many rounds. “Right there, baby,” you chant, eyes closed. “Right fucking there.”

“Jesus, I'm so close,” he grunts, beginning to thrust upwards into you as your own pace slows. The sounds are beyond obscene—his cock plunging into your wetness, headboard slamming against the wall. You don’t care about any of it, not one bit, as long he keeps fucking into you. 

It was always obvious from the moment he kissed you at the club that neither of you were going to last long, anyway. 

“Fuck, I’m cumming,” you practically scream, which would have you embarrassed, but he seems just as ruined as you. 

Your orgasm washes over you, legs shaking as your mouth tears open around a sound that might be his name, might be something else entirely. Your walls flutter around him, and Jungkook can’t help himself anymore. “Fuck, baby, I’m gonna cum too. Can I—fuck—can I cum inside?” 

You nod like a broken bobblehead. Thank god for modern medicine. 

He empties into you, bruising your hips with his hold. He’s so attractive when he finishes that you almost orgasm again from the sight. His bare chest heaves, a slight sheen of sweat layered on the skin. 

For a few moments, you two catch your breath, letting his cock soften entirely inside you. He looks worn, eyes drooping. 

But after an eternity, you finally roll off him. You’re not sure what you were expecting in terms of aftercare, but your heart flutters when he lazily wraps his arms around you, tugging you into his side to rest your cheek on his chest. It’s comforting, with his hands playing with your hair, his own heart thumping along in his chest. Reminding you that you’re here with him, and this is real. 

Silence has never been so peaceful. 

You think you’ll fall asleep like this, but then he says, “I want to see you again.” 

Your heart softens around the edges, at the notion that he believes you’ll never speak to him again after this. You can’t blame him for it. It’s exactly what high school you would’ve done. 

But you’re not 17 anymore, and you deserve all the good he has to offer you. No more silly little games. 

“I would really like that,” you whisper back. 

He presses a kiss to the top of your head. “Mind checking your calendar for me?” 

You grin like a lovesick idiot. “Yup. Checking right now. And it looks like I’m free this whole week.” 

“Thursday, then. Dinner at 7,” he confirms. “You’re not going to, like, make me beg for a real answer this time, are you?”

Giggling, you respond, “Maybe I should check that calendar again…”

He sits up, pouting. “Don’t. Don’t you dare,” he warns, and then his hands are moving to tickle your sides. 

You squeal, squirming away, but he just pulls you back against him. The laughs that escape you are so full of sunshine that you hardly recognize them. You’ve been living under a fog for so long that when it lifted, you forgot how bright life could be. 

“Okay, okay!” you gasp, and his fingers still. “Thursday. 7 o’clock.”

“There we go.” He kisses your forehead. “Was that so hard?”

“Hardest thing I’ve ever done,” you say dramatically, resuming your post, nestled into his side. 

“Liar.” His fingers resume playing with your hair. “You like me.”

You feel like a kid in kindergarten, caught passing a note in class with “do you like me? check yes or no” scrawled in messy handwriting. Like you’re on the playground at recess, heart racing because your crush smiled at you across the monkey bars. But it’s got you just as giddy. “I guess I do.” 

Jungkook reaches over to pull the blanket over you two. “So what happens now?” you wonder aloud. It’s an innocent question, but somehow loaded with more intent than you realize. 

“Now?” he yawns. “Now you let me stay the night. Then tomorrow I’m gonna make you the most fire breakfast of all time. Then Thursday, I’ll take you to the best dinner of your life. And then—”

“There’s more?” Your eyes widen in sarcasm. 

“And then I keep taking you out until you realize you’re in love with me too.”

Your heartbeat is quick but steady in your chest. “Pretty confident about that, hm?”

“Extremely so.” Jungkook yawns again, voice getting drowsy. “I’ve got years of romcom knowledge. I’ve read those Tumblr fanfics. You don’t stand a chance.”

He’s probably right. You don’t stand a chance. In fact, you didn’t from the moment he stood in front of you at that cafe. 

Before you close your eyes and float off into sleep, you mumble out, “God, when did you get so hot?” 

taglist. @mimi1097 @AlmatiarAU @absolutelyjeons @Sabrinahiddig @yooniepot @ggukivrse @Deluluvalerie @Sugak00kie134340 @Angelxkoo @yange7l @mellyyyyyyx @Senaqsstuff @jjkkkk15 @likecrazy22 @impossiblecopoaffire @readingbee44 @EyesforJungkook @lvnderdreams @vintagemoonsstuff @mauveliz @allysh @jeontylv @neurospicynugget @jxniana @haniiii @bo-rimmy @j0cgr0c @roseda @ggukreqz @dltyum @xxxxx1415 @annyeongbitch7 @nesha227 @Cannotalwaysbenight @Satisfied18 @m4aimm @Bangtansfav-7 @secretspam699 @Seolhyuningg @ot7girl4l @writesvani @xsyruhh @songbyeonkim 

[shawtuzi]

LIKE $UGAR ON MY TONGUE ft. jeon jungkook

a/n: this is my first jk fic SO BE NICE M’KAY? . . . now pls enjoy

synopsis: out of impulse, jungkook gets his tongue pierced, but totally forgot the part that for the next two weeks he’s not allowed to kiss his adorable, oh so desirable gf.

wc: 15.8k (mind you this was supposed to be 5k at the MOST . . .)

cw include: black fem!reader was in mind when written but picture her anyway you’d like <3, literally porn with a smidge of plot, unprotected sex, needy!reader, even needier!jungkook, lots of nasty kisses, tongue sucking, creampie, squirting, choking, oral both receiving, some biting, so much dirty talk omg, jungkook is a major perv, he uses her panties to masturbate and does . . . other things with them, he eats it through her panties, slow & rough sex, prone bone position, riding, sex in front of a mirror, backshots, spit, body worship, jungkook is so in love . . . whew i think that’s it—oh wait, he eats in while they shower together!

“are you nervous, honey?”

“mmhm?”

the corner your lips lifted into a giggle, gold bracelets on your wrists jangling as you reached over to squeeze your spaced out boyfriends firm bicep. this caught his attention, his doe-like, brown eyes flicking over to meet yours.

“ah, sorry. my mind was elsewhere. what did you say, baby?” jungkook grinned, leaning over until his shoulder was bumping into yours. you wanted to ask him what had his mind so preoccupied, but knowing jungkook, he’d most likely already forgotten.

you let out a low hum, slyly maneuvering your fingers into his lap to interlock with his. “i asked if you were nervous. s’probably gonna hurt getting your tongue pierced.”

jungkook shrugged, “mm . . . not really. if i can handle getting my lip—or even my eyebrow pierced, i think i can handle this. pain will only last a couple days anyway, yeah?”

you were about to answer, but suddenly a voice to your left caught both of your attention.

a bulky man covered in tattoos, and multiple facial piercings approached the two of you, a friendly smile on his face. “which one of you is here for a tongue piercing?”

jungkook gripped your hand softly and stood, bringing you up with him. “that would be me, she’s just here for support,” he gave your hand a tender squeeze, not bothered by the pda he was showing you in the slightest.

that was one of the things you loved about jungkook.

he was never afraid to show his affection for you no matter who happened to be in the room. friends, colleagues, strangers—it didn’t matter who it was. jungkook was still gonna kiss, touch, and hold you to his hearts content. and who were you to even complain about such a thing?

so he held your hand the entire time.

he held your hand while the piercer perfected the placement, while he rinsed his mouth out with a minty mouthwash, and once the needle finally went through his tongue, he held on even tighter.

he preened at your praise, his heart rate increasing tenfold when you whispered a sweet, ‘you’re doing so good, babe!’

jungkook winced as the piercer screwed in the tiny, silver balls on the bar, but you just squeezed his hand in reassurance. before he knew it, he was finished.

“how do you like it? placement okay and everything?” the man had asked, and with three slow blinks, jungkook nodded. the feeling of it in his mouth was foreign, but that was to be expected, and as for the way it looked? he loved it.

“s’great. thank you, thank you so much!”

you watched in complete adoration as your boyfriend admired his fresh piercing in the handheld mirror he was given. those big, brown boba eyes of his were so wide in awe you were sure they’d pop out if his skull. he was too cute.

“here, rinse your mouth with this again,” the piercer instructed jungkook, handing him another small cup of mouthwash. as jungkook swished the liquid in his mouth the man went over a few, simple instructions on how to properly care for the piercing.

“i would recommend soft foods the next couple of days, nothing too spicy or else it’ll get irritated, and this’ll probably be the hardest rule to follow but absolutely no kissing. swapping spit with someone, even your girlfriend, is the quickest way for it to get infected and reject, but other than that you should be good, man.”

jungkooks lips parted then shut. fuck.

the thought of not being able to kiss you whenever and wherever he wanted hadn’t crossed his mind. not even once. fuck. fuck. fuck.

“how—um, h-how long am i gonna have to do all that for?” and as soon as the words ‘ten to fifteen days’ left the piercers mouth, you could see jungkooks shoulders visibly deflate.

how will he ever go over a week without kissing your soft, pretty lips? your cherry gloss was like heroine to him. he loved swiping it off with his tongue, and letting the subtle cherry taste coat his tastebuds. and not to boast, but jungkook was the biggest munch he knew! how on gods green earth is supposed to go a whole fifteen days without tasting your cu—!

“hey, you alright? feeling lightheaded?”

jungkook blinked rapidly, and with a low hum he shook his head no.

“don’t know how i’m gonna go so long without kissing her . . . or eating spicy foods,” he chuckled, throwing his his back so dramatically you didn’t know whether to laugh or scoff.

“please excuse him. now pay this poor man so we can go get you some ice chips for your tongue,” you smirked, linking your arm around his muscular one. he glanced down at you, and fuck. he already wanted to give you a smooch.

you looked so cute in your pink, oversized sweater and miniskirt. not to mention you were trying out a new blush and lip combo that just made you look so sweet, he could’ve ruined you right then and there.

“why don’t you go hangout over there while i pay him, hm? maybe one of those pieces you see will inspire your next tattoo” he spoke lowly in your ear, giving your side a soft squeeze before sending you on your way.

as jungkook talked to the man about his form of payment, you stood to the side, wrapped up in your own little world. you nibbled on your bottom lip, manicured fingers playing with the hem of your skirt as you thought about how much of a pain in the ass jungkook will be for the next two weeks.

your sweet bunny of a boyfriend required physical touch on a daily basis, so to take out such a key part of it left both of you feeling less than thrilled. at least you had a tad of self control, jungkook on the other hand . . . need i say more?

he was the most impulsive person you’ve ever met, not to mention the neediest boy in the fucking world. underneath the leather jackets, tattoos, and piercings—jungkook was as soft as the strawberry crème cakes you made him on a daily when it came to you.

a hand squeezing your hip broke you out of your thoughts, “you ready to go, sugar?”

when you nodded, jungkook laced his tatted fingers with yours, bidding everyone in the shop a farewell before leading you out the exit and to his car.

it was a beautiful day out; a cool seventy eight degrees and the sun shone brightly above you. a perfect day for running errands and a late lunch!!

a little squeal slipped past your lips when jungkook lightly pushed you against the side of his car, his front pushing ever so softly against yours. “so what’s on the agenda for the rest of the day, hm?” he spoke softly, encasing your hips in his large hands.

you placed your hands on his hard stomach, blindly tracing the ridges of his abs over his shirt. he was so manly . . so masculine . . . and so all yours.

“well . . .” your voice trailed off, head innocently cocking to the side, “i wanna go to t.j. maxx, and get that hello kitty vanity chair. i also wanna head to that herb store and get more raspberry leaf—if i run out before my period comes i’m a goner!”

jungkook’s smile only faltered slightly at the mention of your awful period cramps. sometimes during that time of the month for you, he’d find you in your shared bathroom, head tucked between your knees as your body racked with sobs. he never minds it truly, but it shatters his heart every time he kisses those little tears streaming down your puffy cheeks away.

he tenderly rubbed your lower belly, forehead knocking against your gently as he nodded. “mm, don’t worry. we’ll get your herbs n’ your chair. maybe something to eat too?”

he was absolutely speaking your language.

“yes, that sounds perfect,” you grinned, scratching lightly at the hairs on the nape of his neck. jungkook practically purred at the contact, damn near forgetting you were out in the open. not that he really cared.

he wanted to swoop in for a kiss. just a tiny, little kiss. but the moment his head ducked down, his lips were met with the smooth skin of your palm.

he frowned, a noise of disapproval rumbling in his chest that was soon hushed by little kisses on his jaw. the feeling of your lips running over his hot skin had him shivering, brain nearly short circuiting.

you looked up at him through your freshly done lashes, “m’sorry for doin’ that, but you heard that man in there! no kisses for kookie for at least ten days.”

jungkook wanted to just collapse to his knees, and cry, and be as dramatic as possible—but chairs nodded to be bought, and herbs needed to be collected so he’d have to save the dramatics for another time.

he let out a small puff of air from his cheeks, his tongue already starting to sting from swelling, “you’re right. you’re always right, my smart girl.” he squeezed your sides gently, and nudged his nose against yours, “let’s go get that chair.”

after a short trip, and lots of lingering touches later, your chair and raspberry leaf were secured, and so was your hunger. on the way back home jungkook had made a surprise stop at your favorite taco spot—a small truck ran by two older women who absolutely adored the two of you.

the way home was pretty quiet. while you bashed on your three carne asada tacos with extra lime and salsa, jungkook casually sipped on a small horchata, the cool liquid bringing some relief to his sore tongue.

“it’ll always shock me how you make no mess,” he chuckled, putting his car in park. you dabbed the corners of your lips with a napkin, and did a quick check in the mirror to make sure no cilantro was in your teeth before giving him a small smile. “only because i know i’ll get an earful from you if i do.”

and right you were!! jungkooks mercedes amg was his pride and joy (right after you).

“need me to carry anything, honey?” you hummed, watching as jungkook balanced your bags and the small box containing the parts to your new vanity chair in his arms. he, of course, shook his head no, and instead gave you the job of unlocking the door.

before you even set your purse down, jungkook was already kicking his shoes off and ripping at the box, an obnoxious tearing sound echoing throughout your apartment. building furniture was a random favorite hobby of his, and he always looked damn good doing it.

“lemme get these outside clothes off,” you muttered, using your socks as little skates to slide into your shared room, little giggles slipping past your lips as you did so.

“you’re going to bust your behind one of these days if you keep doing that. hardwood floors hurt y’know!” jungkook called out to you, his boyfriend voice turned all the way on.

“yeah, yeah, whatever. are you gonna need your tools?” you called back, slipping off your skirt and sweater. your bra was the next thing to go, and after little to no thought, you settled on wearing one of jungkooks t-shirts.

the fabric smelt just like him. a citrusy, vanilla scent that made you sleepy every time you smelt it for too long. it also made your cunt feel tingly, but due to certain circumstances, you decided to keep your horniness at bay for jungkooks sake.

you’d be lying if the urge to kiss him hasn’t hit you once or twice, but who could blame you? your boyfriend had the most kissable lips ever, and the two lip rings that adorned the left side made you want them against yours even more!

but unfortunately it’d have to wait.

you brought the collar of his shirt to your nose one last time, inhaling deeply before getting on your knees and shimmying over to jungkooks side of the bed. now he did say which tools he needed, but you weren’t exactly a handy woman, so you just decided to bring his entire tool box.

when he heard the obnoxious sound of metal clanking together his eyes darted to the direction of the sound. his lips broke into a smirk when he saw you carrying his entire toolbox. you were so precious without even having to try.

you wearing little to nothing around your place wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. in fact, you did it so much that jungkook almost found it odd whenever he would come home from work and see you still fully clothed.

yes, you prancing around in just your panties and a top all the time was pretty distracting, but it was the best distraction a man could ever ask for. you have the prettiest, phattest pussy he’s ever seen, and she looks even more enticing hidden behind the soft cotton of your panties.

with a small grunt you set the metal box down, “here ya go.”

when your hands found purchase on your hips, your his shirt rose up, giving him a nice, close up view of your panty clad cunt. the pair you had on today were hot pink, with ‘juicy’ written in black cursive right on the part where your mound was.

‘i’ll fuckin’ say’ he thought to himself, teeth tugging on his lip ring to surpress the urge to pull you closer to him. it didn’t help. like at all, because three seconds later jungkook was pulling you two steps closer by the backs of your thighs.

your nose scrunched up, a giggling bubbling in your chest. “you know . . . you could at least try to be a little more discreet with your staring.”

jungkook groaned at your words, nosing at the inside of your petal soft thigh. “nothing fun about being discreet, babe,” he sighed giving your thigh a light peck.

you were out of his grasp a millisecond later, your head cocking back and forth. “watch those lips mister!”

“it was just a peck, it won’t do any harm, babe!” he pleaded, pulling you closer. his ring clad fingers held rather tightly onto your flesh, preventing you from moving an inch.

“mm, sure, but a peck with you always leads to something more,” you spoke softly, ruffling his jet black locs.

a drag of air got caught in your throat when his nose nudged against your cunt. “h-hey, that’s enough, mister! get back to work before i thump you.”

and with that, jungkook released his hold on your body. his fingers lingered for a second or two before letting go completely, his lips jutting into his signature pout.

“mean . . . very mean,” he muttered, turning his back to you to give your unbuilt chair his undivided attention. he knew he was being unfair, but shit, this entire thing this was unfair!!

it was dumb to say aloud, but truly, the thought of not being able to kiss you or any part of you didn’t cross his mind in the thought process for getting his tongue pierced—not even once! it was a cruel, sick, joke that was one hundred percent preventable, and now you both had to deal with it :(

you let out a little puff of air from your cheeks, and knelt behind your pouting boyfriend. “you say mean . . . i say responsible,” you whispered in his ear, kissing the shell of it before placing another soft kiss on his neck.

“don’t be sad, ‘kay? it’ll go by before you know it.” you knew your man, and you knew him well. you knew if he was challenged to do something, he’d do it and he’d do it well.

he whined at your words, thick brows scrunching together, “it can’t go by fast enoughhhh.”

seven hours later . . . .

jungkook felt as if he was going to combust into a million pieces. the urge to have his lips on yours didn’t curve in the slightest, and to make things even more difficult, he was now sporting a painful boner.

you were sound asleep on his chest, little snores leaving your slightly parted lips every so often. you were still wearing what you had on earlier, the only difference being a lavender colored, silk scarf wrapped securely around your head.

‘hells paradise’ played quietly on the tv, and the ac was on full blast giving jungkook the perfect background noise to fall asleep to. but he couldn’t. his mind was racing.

his legs felt stiff, begging to be stretched, but he knew if he moved even a muscle, you’d stir in your sleep and switch positions. when he held you like this he could feel the heat from your pussy right against his thigh, and as sick it sounded it made him feel so at ease.

with the way his tongue throbbed in pain, jungkook could use all the comfort he could get.

he slowly craned his neck to look down at your sleeping form, and fuck. you were the most beautiful woman he’s ever laid eyes on. even when you were deep in sleep.

the semi-bright glow from the tv gave him just enough light to see that your eyes were moving every so often. he wondered to himself what you could possibly be dreaming about. selfishly enough, he hoped it was him.

“aish . . .” he muttered, shifting his leg the tiniest bit. you made a small noise in your sleep, and this had jungkook freezing in his spot. his heart pounded against his ribcage as you nuzzled closer into his side. and then you moved again . . . and again . . . and again, until jungkook was questioning if you were really asleep or not.

the dull throb against his thigh had his pierced brow twitching.

should he wake you? should he leave you be? should he just cut his losses and jerk off in the bathroom?

a gentle squeeze pulled jungkook out of his thoughts, and when he looked down, he was met with the sight of his sleepy girlfriends’ scrunched up face.

“mm, kook . .”

your voice was whiny, and laced with sleep. if only he was able to kiss away that tiny furrow between your brows.

“what’s up, baby?” he spoke softly, pulling your body impossibly closer to his. you breathed out a small hum when he cupped your ass, gentle fingers gripping the soft flesh.

goosebumps rose on the dark haired mans skin when you nuzzled your face in his neck. your lips brushed against the sensitive spot below his ear, “can’t fall back asleep . . . need your help, please.”

and there it was.

jungkooks hands shook as they ran up and down your body, squeezing and fondling any part of you that he could. “y-yeah? what do you need me to do for you, baby—i know you’re sleepy, but try to use your words for me.”

he heard a small sniffle and then, “fuck me back t’sleep, kook. pleaseee.” your hand lazily rubbed along the length of his covered cock, saliva pooling on your tongue at the thought of having him inside you.

without a second thought, jungkook maneuvered your body on top of his with ease. his dick was pressed snugly against your pussy—hot, hard, and ready to put you tf back to sleep!

jungkook’s breath fanned over your face, still minty from when he brushed his teeth. “really wish i could kiss you right now,” he grunted, lifting your body up just enough to pull his briefs down.

“i-i wish you could kiss me too,” you whined, back arching when he rubbed his leaking tip over your panties.

he didn’t take your panties off, instead he just pulled them to the side with two fingers, and slipped his cock right between your soaked folds. wet was an understatement—you were drenched. small pearls of your essence began to drip down his cock, already creating a mess between your bodies.

“ngh—put it in please,” you sniffled, bottom half slowly moving up and down the length of his dick. jungkook didn’t need to be told twice. he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, tatted hand gripping the base of his cock before slowly pushing the tip through that tight ring of muscle that greeted him so sweetly every time.

his free hand cupped the back of your neck, smushing your forehead against his. “so wet, princess. slipped right in like you were made for me,” he groaned, planting his feet in the bed to push more of his cock into your tight heat.

with a sloppy kiss to the corner of his lips you whispered, “because i was.” this nearly killed jungkook of course, his hips stuttering the tiniest bit.

he throbbed all around you. every protruding vein caressed your sensitive walls, and it didn’t make things better when his spongy tip started knocking obnoxiously against that spot deep inside you that had your toes curling.

you mewled at the stretch, grabbing onto his shoulders as you found your place in his neck once again. every moan, whine, every hitch of your breath—he heard it all, and it was driving him fucking nuts.

he wanted to talk you through it, whisper dirty praises and promises in your ear, but alas his tongue was just too fucking sore. he knew you liked him to be vocal, so he settled with matching your volume in moans.

jungkook’s hands roamed all along the expanse of your back. your skin was hot to the touch, his cold hands bringing you some sweet relief.

you wanted to melt into him. let your minds and bodies become one forever, but for now this would have to do.

“lemme take this off,” you muttered, sitting up to remove his shirt from your trembling from. the new angle had his cock hitting deeper, and this had you tightening up, forcing a hiss from the man below you.

he wasted no time fondling your breasts, a whine bubbling in his throat from lack of them in his mouth. you always made the prettiest noises when he sucked on your nipples. they were always so sensitive—even as he softly ran his thumbs over them.

“k-kook—”

“i know—shit, i know.” his voice was raspy from lack of speaking. his throat felt so dry, like someone had stuffed cotton down it. jungkook had a thirst, but not for a beverage of any kind.

as you began a steady rhythm moving back and forth, jungkook thumbed at your swollen clit. his jaw clenched, a groan rumbling in his chest at how wet you actually were.

sucking your clit into his mouth would definitely fix him right now—why, oh why did he have to get this stupid fucking piercing.

your hips stuttered slightly when he pulled his thumb away, and without a second thought he brought the digit to your lips. it wasn’t hard to find his eyes in the darkness of the room, and once you did you sucked the digit between your lips, humming at the sweet, yet tart taste that coated your tongue.

all your nerve endings felt as if they have been set ablaze. you could feel everything. you didn’t know what it was, but these intimate moments with jungkook always made you so beside yourself.

“what’s it taste like, hm? describe it for me,” he rasped out, pressing down lightly on your tongue before removing his thumb entirely.

your movements halted, but not for long, because jungkook’s hands were on your hips seconds later, resuming your slow paced grinding. “don’t make me say it, babe,” you whimpered, feeling your cheeks get hotter than they already were.

he couldn’t help but chuckle. you were still so bashful—even when getting split open by his thick cock.

it was silent for a few beats, and then without warning, jungkook cupped the back of your neck and pulled you back down to his level. his feet planted into the bed, and with that he began a slow, steady rhythm of thrusts.

“was is it sweet? i bet it was, you’re always so fuckin’—ngh, sweet,” he panted against your lips, making you whine veryyyy loudly.

your cunt started to became rather noisy, an obscene squelching sound becoming louder and louder as the minutes went by. but it wasn’t quite loud enough for your boyfriend.

your once warm body was suddenly met with a chill, goosebumps rising over the entire expense of your back. jungkook had also taken this as an opportunity to go faster—harder. the sound of his balls slapping against your ass echoed noisily throughout the room.

“love that sound,” he grunted, tucking your face in the warmth of his neck to shush your whines. between being overly drowsy, and jungkook fucking you like his own personal toy, your brain had turned into a complete pile of mush.

not a sentence, nor thought could be formed in your head. the only thing you could even think to do was kiss him—well kiss his neck specifically since his lips were off limits.

your lips latched onto the spot below his ear, sucking feverishly until he was squeezing the back of your neck in sensitivity.

“y-yeah, mhmm. keep kissing me. i need it,” he whispered the last part directly in your ear while also delivering a particularly harsh thrust. you made a noise between a sob and a gasp, and for a second you could’ve sworn you saw white.

both of his hands gripped your ass cheeks, spreading them only slightly so he was able to fuck you deeper.

a never ending chorus of ‘ah ah ah’s left your drooly lips, and soon, it wasn’t long before you were whining in jungkook’s ear about how you were about to cum.

you lifted your head slightly, “i’m *pant* i-i’m—!”

jungkook shoved your face back in his neck, the pace of his thrusts increasing to a speed so fast it had you seeing spots.

“i know, baby. i know. fucking do it.”

your ears started to ring, and your back arched, a beautiful symphony of moans following seconds later. jungkook fucked you through it all with one hand still securely on the back of your neck, and the other now grabbing onto your hip so roughly you were sure to feel it in the morning.

his toes curled when he felt you gush around him. your pussy was practically suffocating his cock, convulsing around him so harshly it was almost difficult to continue moving.

you heard a few curses in korean, follow by one more hard thrust before a sudden warmth flooded your lower belly. jungkook ground into you from below, milking his orgasm for all it was worth—which was a lot.

without even thinking he pressed a quick peck to your shoulder, his lips lingering for a few seconds before pulling away.

“ . . . you okay? was i good?” he whispered into your ear, but the only response he was met with was a small snore. your body was completely limp, occasionally twitching in his arms.

jungkook hummed contently, nosing at your cheek. his hands ran slowly up and down your back, tracing random hearts and shapes as he did so.

he was gonna have to wake you up soon so you could pee, but for now that would wait. he just wanted to bask in this moment for as long as he could.

it’s been nine days since then, and you two have been fucking like rabbits everrrr since.

morning, afternoon, midday, the middle of the night—it didn’t matter what time it was. if jungkook was in the mood, he had to have you.

the urge to kiss you hasn’t lessened. in fact it only grew stronger and more unbearable as the days went by. his cock leaked pathetically with pre every time he thought about your lips against his. he craved the feeling of biting into the plushness of your bottom lip, and tugging just enough to have you whimpering.

when his tongue became less swole the first thing he tried to do was kiss you, only to be met with the petal soft skin of your cheek. ‘it’s only been three days, kook!’ you had scolded him, breaking his heart for what felt like the hundredth time that week.

you being the sweet, amazing girlfriend you were, fucked the sadness out of him every single time though hehe.

the situation always ended up the same way. jungkook would be underneath you, brown eyes the size of saucers while you rode him into a blissful oblivion. you rewarded his restraint to kiss you with sloppy pecks across his neck and throat, your tongue tracing random shapes and lines into the sweaty skin.

he felt like a fucking teenager with the way he was so quick to jump your bones.

it was now day ten, and jungkook has surely lost his mind by now.

he was currently home alone, scrolling mindlessly on his phone as he waited to hear the familiar click! of the door unlocking.

you weren’t home, obviously. you had picked up an extra shift at the bakery you worked at, leaving jungkook all by his lonesome.

you’d been gone for seven whole hours, and to make things worse, you only texted kookie a handful of times before it was silence on your end.

he thought about going up there to visit you—maybe even partake in a sweet treat, but that would only end up doing him more harm than good. so here he sat, scrolling through your social medias for the umpteenth time.

fuck, you were so pretty. how did he end up with such a gorgeous girlfriend, hm? how did he manage to have the literal embodiment of perfection land in his lap?

he usually asked himself these questions when he was missing you really bad, or while he watched you sleep. is that creepy? eh, maybe, but who even really cares?

his eyes flicked up to the corner of the screen reading the time. it was fifteen minutes till five, and he still hadn’t heard from you since you last texted at noon.

“hope she isn’t working herself too hard . . .” he sighed, slumping back against the plush, gray couch cushions.

you were a bit of a perfectionist, and although he admired how much time and effort you put into your craft, he didn’t particularly care for how hard you were on yourself if the outcome wasn’t exactly what you wanted.

when you told jungkook baking was a ‘fun hobby’ of yours, he expected you to laugh off your minuscule mistakes, and enjoy the sweet treat. boy was he fucking wrong.

* cue super cute flashback *

“one more, one more!” jungkook chuckled, his tatted fingers gripping onto your chin to bring you in for another slow, nasty kiss. before you could even protest, his lips were against yours—soft and swollen from your previous kisses.

you giggled against his lips, a small gasp getting caught in your throat when he grabbed a handful of your ass over your pajama shorts. “mm, babe. i gotta get the cookies out before they burn,” you hummed, cunt clenching around nothing when he tugged on your bottom lip with his teeth.

the sweet smell of brown sugar and chocolate wafted into your nose, and you knew soon enough the enticing smell would soon turn burnt and bitter if you didn’t act quickly.

jungkook gave you one last peck before releasing his grip on you, a lazy smirk lifting at the corner of his lips. “alright, alright. i’ll leave you alone . . . for now. now lets go check on those cookies,” he grinned, showcasing those oh so cute dimples that made you swoon every time you saw them.

he let you lead the way to the kitchen— why you ask? so he could fondle and smack your ass to his hearts content. you didn’t bother to say anything, allowing the giggling man behind you to continue his antics.

when you opened the oven your lips pulled into a thin line, already dissatisfied with the slightly burnt smell that greeted you.

while you were screaming in your mind twenty seven different ways, jungkook was behind you, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he waited for you to pull the tray out. he was so blissfully unaware of how homicidal you were over these damn brown butter cookies.

he leant over the pan, taking a deep inhale of the sweet treat. “shit, these look incredible, baby,” he muttered, mouth now beginning to water.

all you could do was sigh, your brows pulling together in a deep frown. jungkook noticed this and it had the cogs in his brain turning. what could possibly be so wrong? these were the most perfectly baked cookies he’s ever seen!

without saying a word you slowly lifted up a cookie with a thin spatula. just as you thought—they were burnt. the bottom was entirely too dark for your liking. once they cooled they were going to be hard instead of soft. this just broke your heart.

jungkook noticed the cloudy look in your eyes and stood up straight. he turned your body towards his quickly, but gently. “hey, hey, what’s wrong? why do you look like you’re about to cr—i mean, um—”

it was too late. two fat tears were already rolling down cheeks, waiting to be wiped away by jungkook.

“ugh, why would you ask me thatttt? you know i always cry when you ask me that,” you sniffled, blinking away more tears. jungkook puffed air through his cheeks, and cupped your face with both hands. this made you want to cry even more, but you managed to pull it together with a slow, but shaky breath.

you tried to look everywhere besides in front of you, but it was painfully hard to avoid your boyfriends’ intense gaze.

“why are you crying? your cookies look perfect . . . i’m sorry, but i don’t—i don’t understand,” he spoke softly, sliding his hands from your jaw to your shoulders.

your eyes flicked to the tray beside you, and then to the floor. “i’ve . . . made these cookies so many times . . but the one time i wanna make them for you, i fucking burn them. what kinda sick joke is that?”

“but baby they look perfectly fine to—”

“uhn uhn!” you grabbed one of the now cooled cookies, and showed him the dark brown bottom. “they’re not moist! they’ll be hard—inedible soon enough,” you sighed, pulling apart the cookie to reveal the steaming inside.

jungkook was completely stumped. burnt cookies were a very dark brown, blackish color, and they usually left a foul stench in the air . . . yet these were a perfect golden brown, and smelt so sweet he could’ve gotten a tooth ache. was he missing something?

“hmph, i don’t know what went wrong. maybe i cooked the butter too long? maybe they weren’t cold enough? i don’t know . . . will you try, please?” you pouted, holding one half of the cookie in front of him. without a second thought, jungkook scarfed down the entire thing, along with the other half.

the still warm chocolate chips melted on his tongue, making him hum in content. you watched with an intense glint in your eyes, waiting for any sign that he disliked the cookie.

his tongue slowly ran over his bottom lip, and without saying a word he grabbed another cookie, devouring it in only two bites. your eyes softened, tear stained cheeks now feeling extra hot from embarrassment.

“shut up . . there’s no way they’re that good,” you muttered, hiding your face in his obscenely large pecs. jungkook only chuckled, his hand coming up to pet at your hair softly.

“i think you’re being entirely too hard on yourself, no? they may not be as soft as you want them, but they’re certainly edible, babe.” his words were so sweet, and so gentle, it made you want to start crying all over again.

when you didn’t say anything he continued, “you could serve me flour on a paper plate, and i’d still eat it because it was made by you, and i’m so serious.”

when he heard you giggling into his chest it made his heart clench, but in a good way! your laugh sounded like the finest of symphonies to him, a sound he could hear on repeat for all his days to come.

“there she is, there’s my girl. no more crying, ‘kay? makes my heart hurt to see you so sad,” he spoke lowly, giving the crown of your head three gentle kisses.

your eyes slowly shut, the sound of his heartbeat making you drowsier by the minute. you could’ve fallen asleep right there, standing and all, but the sudden smell warm brown sugar had your eyes fluttering back open.

“try it,” you heard him ask, although it sounded more like a demand. your lips parted, and with a little hesitation, you took a bite of the cookie. the taste of brown butter and vanilla had you humming in delight, and this brought a smirk to jungkook’s lips.

“good, right?”

you hummed a small ‘mhm’ in response, and took another bite. “still kinda dry. they’re decent at best, and i’ll never get hired at ‘the sweet spot’ with decent cookies.”

your body went stiff when you heard jungkook let out a particularly loud sigh.

he wasn’t bothered that you were talking about working at your dream job again, no, never that. what bothered him so damn much was that you really didn’t believe your baking was good enough to get the job.

jungkook cupped your jaw firmly, forcing you to look up at him. he muttered ‘stop that’ in korean. two words that you were very familiar with (due to you being a massive brat), and like every other time it made your cunt feel tingly.

“stop what . . .” you murmured, clearly acting clueless to what he was talking about.

he breathed out a small laugh, and tongued at the inside of his cheek, already caught on to your little game. “i believe my girl is smart enough to know what i’m talking about—”

with little to no strength he lifted you by the backs of your thighs, and set you on the counter. the cold marble had goosebumps rising all over your skin, and you’d be squealing right now if his lips weren’t smushed against yours to keep you quiet.

he kissed the corner of your mouth, and then your jaw, and then the shell of your ear before whispering, “but if you need me to help spell it out for you, i really don’t mind.”

jungkook could’ve popped a boner right then and there at the way your pupils blew out at his words.

that’s how you ended up on the couch, knees pushed allll the way to your shoulders while jungkook edged you with his mouth. his tongue caressed your clit for what felt like hours, and you weren’t allowed to cum, let alone even move out of his grip, until you were screaming out affirmations about how you were going to get that job at the bakery.

two days later you woke up bright and early to prepare some sample pastries for your interview, and to no ones surprise (not even your own) you got the job! that same night you rewarded jungkook with his favorite apple and brown sugar strudels, and some mean head to thank him for encouraging you so much. <3

* end of cute flashback *

when jungkook had zoned back in from reminiscing, his jeans felt five times tighter than they did before, and his hands felt clammy. he needed you. all of you.

he needed to feel the soft bud of your nipple graze his tongue as he sucked on it. he needed to feel the pressure of your thighs squeezing against his head as he devoured you like you were his last meal. and most importantly; he needed a fucking kiss god dammit!!

he could barely even remember what it felt like to suck your tongue into his mouth. shit, he could hardly even remember the taste of your cherry gloss!

damn, that lip gloss you wore always looked so pretty—especially when you would suck him off and leave remnants of it all along the base of his cock.

“aish . . .” the frustrated man huffed out, giving his cock a quick palm over his sweats. his nose twitched, much like a bunny, when a shot of pleasure rushed down his spine at the contact.

his dick throbbed, almost painfully, and he knew it was only a matter of time before he would cave and help himself. he was only human after all!

before he could even process what he was doing, jungkook clicked the phone icon right above your name, and pressed the phone against his ear. as the line rung he was internally pleading for you to answer the phone. all he wanted to do was hear your voice.

suddenly he heard a click on the other line—

“hello?”

“o-oh!” jungkook sat up straight, his lips breaking into a dopey half-smile at the sound of your voice. “i didn’t expect you to answer . . . you never answered my texts—not that that’s a problem. i know you’re busy being the best pastry chef in the world.”

he could hear the smile on your face as you talked about the ups and downs of your day, and shamefully enough, it was making him harder.

god, he hated himself right now. why has this temporary ban on kisses made him to beside himself?

“an’ now i’m just hanging out in the office to take a break. i think i’m gonna head out soon, though. i’ve been so spaced out today.”

“mm, what have you been thinking about?”

jungkook didn’t mean to have that oh so familiar seductive tone in his voice, but unfortunately for him, he practically purred out the question.

there was silence, and then—

“honestly? . . . you giving me head.”

jungkook almost moaned aloud at that, but instead let out a sound that was a mix of a whine and a gasp.

this is why you were made for him, why you were his girl. you both craved each other so much. its always been an ongoing match of who’s the biggest yearner between the two of you.

“you there, babe? too crude for the workplace?”

your sweet laugh only fueled the fire in his lower belly. jungkook was so horny it was almost difficult for him to speak.

“n-no . . no, not at all. i’ve been thinking about the same thing actually. remember that day when you baked those cookies?”

he heard a small, barely audible noise that sounded a lot like a whimper. “mhm.”

with a shaky hand, jungkook pushed himself up using the armrest of the couch. everything was entirely too hot, he needed to feel some kind of relief.

“i remember how you couldn’t stop shaking when i was done. you came for, like, a whole minute. i couldn’t believe it.” as jungkook dumbly babbled about eating you out, he was also making his way to the bedroom.

the first thing that caught his attention when he walked in the room was your discarded panties from that morning. it felt like the peach colored garment was calling out to him. begging to be fucked n’ soiled by his sticky cum.

he was broken out of his thoughts when he heard the airy sound of your voice. “c’monnnn. don’t say stuff like that, or else i’ll look like a total mess in front of everyone.”

“mm, and what if i want that to happen?” he breathily chuckled, swiping your panties off the floor in one swift movement. he tucked the phone between his cheek and shoulder, and pulled his sweats down mid thigh before taking a seat at the edge of your shared bed.

“i think you look pretty cute all flustered and shy. i’m sure everyone else will think so, no?” jungkooks tone was very teasing, which was funny because he was honestly one stroke away from combusting into bits.

“mmcht. it might be cute to you, but i doubt my bosses will think it is.”

“hah—yeah . . . yeah, maybe you’re right,” jungkooks head tilted back when he finally wrapped the soft fabric of your panties over his swollen cock. it wasn’t nearly enough to satisfy him like you ever could, but it would have to do for now.

an attempt to stay neutral, and quiet was never even made because your man knew just how much you liked to hear him.

“k-kook, c’mon—”

“just fucking come home already, y/n. i don’t mean to rush you at all, baby, but—fuck. just—just listen,” his slurred sentenced trailed off with a moan, and suddenly your ears were met blessed with a wet shlicking sound.

“please—”

“i’m using your panties. the ones you left on the floor this morning to be—ngh, specific.”

jungkook knew he was being sooo mean, and sooo unfair, but unfortunately my mans was fresh out of self control.

“hurry up, and come home so we can ruin each other,” he rasped, letting out one last moan to break you even more.

the dark haired mans eyes fluttered shut, and the first image that popped in his head was you; stark naked, and spread out for him, ready to have your pussy eaten until you cried.

he brought your panties to his nose, and took a deep inhale, while his other hand steadily pumped the thick base of his dick. they sorta smelled of him now, but the scent of you was still overwhelmingly there.

“mm, fuck,” he panted out, poking his tongue out to take an experimental lick at the crotch part. what he was going was disgusting, humiliating, and beyond perverted, but—

“shittt. it tastes just like her.”

his ring clad fingers squeezed harshly at the tip, and when he ran his thumb over the leaky slit, he tried his absolute best to imagine it was you.

time had seemed to go by rather fast, because just as jungkook was about to edge himself for the third time, he heard the door, followed by quick footsteps. there was no point in trying to hide what he was doing because; 1. he was too horny to give a shit and 2. he actually wanted you to see him like that.

your reaction was just as he pictured in his head only moments ago—flustered and intrigued. “oh . . . you’re here. i missed you, baby. so much.”

the evidence of his confession was leaking obscenely in front of you, and all you could do was stand there with parted lips, and clenched thighs.

with a low grunt, jungkook released his firm grip on his cock. “c’mere. ‘wanna touch you.”

your bag was the first to go, the designer accessory hitting the carpet with a soft thud. it was like your feet had a mind of their own, one taking a step after the other until you were nearly in your boyfriends’ grasp.

the moment you were in reach, he was tugging you closer by your flour stained shirt, and burying his face between your covered breasts. “h-hey!” you gasped, hands finding purchase on his broad shoulders. “this shirt is all dirty, honey, c’mon.”

“then take it off,” jungkook grunted below you, lifting up your shirt to finally kiss at your skin. he just didn’t give a shit anymore about the piercing rejecting, and if he kept this up, you were going to soon stop caring as well.

he kissed around the curves of your hips, making sure to give each side a cheeky little nibble, before tracing his tongue around your tummy.

“i’ll never get over how cute this is . . . suits you so well, sugar,” he spoke lowly, referring to the baby pink hello kitty jewelry that was pierced through your naval.

a purr rumbled in jungkooks chest when you scratched lightly at his scalp, murmuring a small, but sweet ‘thank you.’

“just—just lemme get these yucky clothes off, and take a shower before we get down to . . um, to business.” words that you were barely able to get out in the first place were quickly washed away, and long forgotten as jungkook suckled at your hip bone.

“you took a shower this morning, i’m sure you’re fine.”

this earned him a scoff, followed by a weak push to his shoulders. “i just worked for almost ten hours. not so sure i’m at my freshest.”

suddenly jungkooks nose was pressed against your lower tummy, “and yet you smell like sugar and . . . mm, strawberries?”

“close,” you whispered, taking his chin between your fingers. jungkook preened at the physical contact, leaning into your touch even further. his eyes widened slightly, patiently waiting for you to finish what you were saying.

“that’s cherries you’re actually smelling. i made a batch of cherry strudels before i left,” you finally spoke, scratching at his chin.

his lips parted, but you were quick to interrupt him, “i already know what you’re going to ask, and yes, there’s some in the kitchen waiting for you. ‘could never make some strudels without bringing one home for my kookie.”

fuck. you were just so sweet, and considerate, it made jungkook feel feral. his neglected cock twitched, begging for some kind of attention.

his fingers fiddled with the button to your jeans, and with those wide doe of his, he silently asked for permission to undo it. you bit your lip, hesitant at first, but after a little thought you slowly nodded.

his eyes stayed on yours, never once breaking contact as he undid the button of your jeans, the zipper soon following. “love you so much,” he whispered into your skin, slowly pulling them down.

you didn’t know what to expect during this very intense moment with your man, but what you certainly didn’t expect was for him to just start eating it through your panties!

his nose nudged against your clit as his tongue caressed the crotch area of your strawberry patterned panties. he could taste you. barely, but just enough. he could’ve passed away right then and there, and would’ve died happy, and content.

you were still standing, knees knocking together as you tried to keep yourself up. “babe, i really should freshen up f-first. h-hah, what about your piercing?”

suddenly a rush of pleasure shot down your back, making your body jolt forward. the sensation felt . . . foreign. this was odd, because jungkook has eaten you out through your panties plenty of times before.

“did you like the way that felt?” you heard the man below you speak, a cheeky smile spreading across his features. “want me to do it again? here—”

that same feeling returned, except it was more sloppy, more wet. it had your head tilting back, and if it weren’t for jungkook holding you up by the backs of your thighs, you surely would’ve collapsed.

you were absolutely speechless. your cunt was doing more of the talking than you were at this point, dripping into your panties, and creating an even bigger mess.

when you didn’t say anything, too wrapped in your own head, he spoke once more. “you like that, huh? like the way it feels on your pussy?”

your eyes fluttered rapidly, and when you peeked down, jungkook’s tongue was shallowly sticking out, giving you a nice view of the silver ball in the center. his tongue cupped your clit over your panties, slowly moving side to side.

jungkook was genuinely surprised he was keeping it together so well, and taking his time with you. before you arrived, the only thing he could think about was tearing these same panties he was kissing and licking on into two.

all you could do was watch in awe, the inside of your mind sounding like nothing but static. jungkook nipped at the inside of your thigh, regaining your attention.

“just a little taste, cutie. i can rinse with mouthwash after *kiss kiss* to make sure it doesn’t get infected.” you could practically feel your heartbeat in your clit as jungkook kissed over your clothed mound.

his fingers looped in the lacy waistband of your panties, and with a gentle tug, he pulled them down low enough just to get a peek at the fat of your pussy. he could see your clit peeking out from between your slicked folds, swollen and looking as tempting as ever.

“before you do that,” you whispered, carefully stepping out of your jeans, “i want a kiss.”

your man wasted no time pulling you into his lap, and it felt heavenly to be able to feel his dick press against your clothed pussy.

his tatted hand cupped the side of your face, “i just might die, and i’m not even kidding.”

this made you laugh, and although he was pleased to have made you smile, he was deadly serious. being denied your kisses had him nearly climbing up the walls!

“mm, you’re so dramatic—”

and that was the last thing that was said before jungkook’s lips were smushed against yours.

soft. that was the first word that popped in his mind. your lips, your skin, the little noises you made as he deepened the kiss—it was all just so soft.

you could tell he was trying to be gentle, and take his time, but it wasn’t long before his thumb was pushing down on your chin to part your lips wider.

the kiss was slow, deep, everything that he had imagined for the past ten days. feverishly, he sucked your tongue into his mouth, and the faint taste of cherry compote had him moaning into the kiss.

you could feel his piercing slide against your tongue. it had you shaking, like it was your first time kissing him all over again.

“hah—shit,” jungkook moaned, greedily kissing his way down to your neck. your skin was a bit sweaty from working so hard, but he didn’t mind in the slightest. “need to taste you now.”

you squeaked, eyes squeezing shut as he flipped you on your back with ease. his face burrowed into your neck, and while he whined apologies into your ear about the sudden roughness, his bottom half was also rutting pitifully into yours.

“oh my . . .” your lips parted in a dreamy sigh, lashes fluttering when you felt his swollen tip rub directly onto your clit. “p-please do something, kook.”

your shirt was pushed up, along with your bra, and seconds later you felt a pair of lips wrap around your left nipple. jungkook wasn’t pretty with it—he slobbered and licked all around your breast, making sure to swirl his piercing around your nipple in between licks.

“i am, baby. i am,” he gave your neglected nipple a wet kiss, “i got you, don’t worry.”

while you made quick work to rid your shirt and bra, jungkook kissed his way down your body, leaving a glistening trail behind him. when he reached your pussy, your thighs twitched making him smirk.

“you may be crying by the time i’m done with you,” he spoke softly, giving you clit one last kiss over your panties. “so i wanna apologize beforehand.”

he took his time removing your panties, his eyes zeroing in at the way your essence clung to the soaked cotton.

the second his tongue swiped between your sopping folds, he was greeted with a taste sweeter than anything you have ever baked for him. there was a slight tang that had him salivating for more, but the sweetness overpowered everything.

you knew jungkook was bound to have his dramatics turnt all the way up given the circumstances, but you definitely didn’t expect him to let out the loudest, most whiniest pornographic moan you’ve ever heard!

“babe,” you breathily giggled, combing your fingers through his hair. you tugged lightly on the strands when he sucked your swollen button into his mouth, the tip of his tongue caressing the pearl ever so gently. “p-pace yourself now, we have all the time in the world.”

jungkook hummed, but you honestly couldn’t even tell if he had heard a word you just said.

with a low grunt he pushed the backs of your knees up, and used his entire mouth to cup your pussy. his tongue slithered all between your folds before the infamous piercing finally swiped against your clit.

your stomach clenched when he did it again, and when he did it a third time, his ears were rewarded with you moaning out his name oh so sweetly.

“mm, you like that, baby? how does it feel? describe it for me,” he purred, circling his tongue around your clit. a shudder ran down your spine, and your cheeks felt as if someone placed hot coals on them.

“babe p-please—”

“do it.”

your lower half thrusted into nothing as jungkook spit directly on your clit. you could feel the saliva trickle between your folds, creating a wetter, even bigger mess between your thighs.

the center of of his tongue circled figure eights onto your clit, and you could feel the silver ball with every movement. your boyfriend was slowly, but surely, pushing you to your limit.

“it feels . . . u-um, like, different?”

“different in what way, baby? c’mon, i know that pretty head can come up with some smart words. you got the smartest mouth i know.” you could feel his smirk in your skin when he finished his sentence.

jungkook cupped your clit with his lips, and dragged his tongue all around the nub. his eyes fluttered shut at the symphony of moans that spilled past your kiss bitten lips.

the more he licked, the more your mind became a muddled mess. “kook—please slow down. i can’t thinkkk!” you whined, weakly pushing at his forehead.

your pleas only made him more feral for you, unfortunately.

the back of your head flew into the mattress when he hiked your thighs over his shoulders, bringing his face impossibly closer to your cunt. the grip he had on your thighs was kinda fucking ridiculous. you couldn’t move an inch!!

he has been hitting the gym a little harder to deal with all his pent up frustration, but jesus, you didn’t think he’d bulk up so quickly. if you were to compare your head to his biceps, you were sure they’d be bigger.

after ogling his physique from above, a pinch to your thigh brought you back to reality.

“i believe i asked you a question some time ago, and you still haven’t answered it.” his words were muffled into your thigh, and once he was done speaking he nipped at the skin just to hear you whine again.

“u-um, it feels hard . . weird, n’ makes her feel extra—ngh,” you tried to shut your thighs around his head from sensitivity, the word you were trying to say before you were interrupted, but jungkook was not letting up.

the sudden intrusion of his tongue in your clenching hole had tears springing to your eyes, but as soon as the feeling was there, it was gone just as quick.

“oh . . did you like that? maybe you should finish what you were saying, and i’ll reward you for it.” his tone was teasing, and just when you were gonna snap back at him, he was slurping obscenely at your cunt.

“i—”

with one final lick to your throbbing clit, you were cumming all over jungkooks tongue with a weak cry.

you couldn’t form a word, nor thought. all you could do was go limp, and let him have his way with you. he didn’t even mind that you came without permission—frankly, you could do anything you wanted, as long as he got to remain between your soaked thighs.

your essence coated his tongue like dribbles of honey, and he drank up every drop until your thighs were twitching against his reddened ears.

with a deep groan, jungkook pushed your knees alllll the way back, and when you wrapped your hands around your ankles to keep them in place, his chest swelled with pride.

jungkook latched on your clit, and hollowed his cheeks, earning a squeak from you. when his head shook back and forth, that’s when the tears in your eyes started free falling.

“o-ohh my,” you cried out, thighs now beginning to shake.

jungkook stopped, and only stopped, when he felt your finger tips tap repeatedly at his shoulders. something you only did when you were way past your limits.

he nosed at your clit, and gave her one more sloppy kiss before pulling away, but only by an inch. he didn’t want to stray too far from he wanted to be most.

it was silent for a few minutes; the only thing being heard were your shaky breaths, and the occasional whimper.

his lips brushed against your thigh, and when he started covering the dewy skin in kisses, you were mewling in protest. “i can’t, kook,” he heard you sniffle from above him.

“ngh—you’re lucky i’m so hard. otherwise i’d make you do it again,” he growled, slapping your pussy with his palm. your body jolted, and when you attempted to push yourself away from him, you were surprised to see you were out of his iron grip.

there you laid at the top of bed; chest heaving and legs shaking, meanwhile jungkook stayed knelt at the edge, eyeing you very intensely.

you felt your heart begin to hammer against your ribcage when he stood at his full height. the new addition to his sleeve tattoo that he had gotten a few weeks prior had him looking intimidating as ever.

he was silent as he removed his shirt, and he was still quiet as he shed his sweats and briefs. his cock was now an angry red shade, and leaking like a damn faucet. it had saliva pooling on your tongue.

“you gonna come down here, and take it? gonna come take what’s yours?” he spoke lowly, brown eyes never once leaving yours as he spit in his hand. he used that same hand to pump his twitching cock, slowly and teasingly.

your lips pushed into a pout, but you nodded, completely disregarding the throbbing between your legs. you needed him in your mouth immediately. even if it was just a taste.

his nostrils flared when you crawled over to him on all fours, and once you were finally in reach, his thumb hooked into your mouth, forcing you to look up at him.

“mm, you want some don’t you?”

his thumb was pushing down on your tongue, preventing you from speaking, so you just nodded. to drive him even crazier, you started sucking on the digit, even going as far as to moan around it.

“baby please,” your boyfriend panted above you, his cock twitching wildly at the action. he was so close to busting a nut, but he had to keep it together so you could have your fun with him.

he truly had you so spoiled.

he took the throbbing muscle in his hand once more, and slapped it against your cheek. “can’t do this for long. i’m already close enough as it is,” he warned, tracing the dribbling tip over your lips.

your eyes flicked from his cock to those big, brown boba eyes, and with a slow lick to your lips, you nodded.

when your lips wrapped around his cock, jungkooks jaw went completely slack. you gave him the same treatment he gave you; wet and messy.

thanks to copious amounts of throat training, you were able to take more than half of his cock in your mouth with ease. when the tip brushed against the back of your throat, his hips stuttered. “shitttt.”

you tried not to get carried away, but the nosies he was making were so pretty :(( you never wanted them to end.

your hand cupped his balls, and this earned you a nice, strained groan from him.

“geumanhae,” he muttered, yanking you back by your hair until only the tip remained between your lips. a shiver ran down his spine when he felt you exhale through your nose, and with one last trace around the head, you were pulling back completely.

you looked at him through your lashes, batting them softly. “stop what?”

jungkook chuckled softly, running a tatted hand through his slightly damp hair. “stop trying to make me cum. you’re not that slick.”

you fake pouted, and leant forward, messily kissing all across his thighs and lower abdomen. “what gave me away?” you spoke softly, trailing your kisses higher up his body.

when you reached his lips, jungkook gave in and gave you a single, slow kiss. “was too wrapped in it to realize anything . . . until you started moaning too. you know that shit makes me cum quick,” he chuckled, bumping his nose against yours.

“pfft, whatever. now gimme another kiss.”

jungkook didn’t need to be told twice. he squished your cheeks together, and slithered his tongue into your mouth. when you started sucking on his tongue, his chest deflated in a deep breath he didn’t even know he was holding.

you both were as physically close as two people could be, but it just wasn’t enough for him. god, he just wanted to live in your skin all day, everyday.

“how do you want it?” he hummed, kissing his way down to your neck. your chest arched into his, and with a dreamy sigh you said, “on my stomach.”

you heard a small ‘mhm’ and then you were turnt around, and pushed to your tummy. your lashes fluttered weakly, trying to process jungkook’s quickness. you shimmied further up the bed to rest your head on the mountain of pillows at the top.

“oh, baby. you don’t need those,” you heard your man chuckle behind you. you felt the bed dip, and then a sudden warmth against your back. jungkook lifted your head up gently, and slid him arm underneath with ease, allowing your head to rest prettily on his bicep. “not when you can lay right here.”

his bicep was nice n’ strong, but soft enough to rest against. the perfect pillow.

you used whatever strength you had left to spread your thighs apart, you didn’t stop until your knees knocked against his muscly thighs. “please put it in.”

jungkook rubbed the fat tip of his dick between your swollen folds, his nose twitching at the intense warmth that greeted him.

“hah—i’ll try to go slow . . can’t guarantee anything after that.”

he circled his tip around your clit, relishing in the wet noises that he heard, and with a shallow inhale, he finally pushed the first couple of inches inside your pussy.

he heard you let out a tiny gasp, and your body tensed slightly at the intrusion. “d-don’t clench so hard, baby,” he panted in your ear, “s’just me. ease up.”

the warmth that you felt on your back suddenly spread all along your body. jungkook covered you like a blanket, not letting a single sliver of your skin go untouched by him.

that sweet, citrusy smell of his wafted into your nose, and that’s when you finally eased up, allowing him to push more of his cock inside your tight heat. jungkook was careful with it at first; slowly sliding in and out until he was pumping into you with ease.

your brows scrunched together in pleasure, “oh fuck.”

jungkook made a noise in his chest so low at you cursing, it sent shivers down your spine. his free hand snaked underneath your bodies, and pinched at your clit. “w-watch that fuckin’—ngh, mouth.”

“s-sorry, sorry! can you go faster, please?”

you could feel jungkooks cock twitch inside you at your request, and without saying a word, he pulled alllll the way out before slamming back inside you. he moaned into your shoulder when your ass shimmied against his front. “what’re you doing, baby?” his voice was raspy, and strained as if he’d been hurt.

“need—need all of it in me,” you slurred out, too cockdrunk to even care about how stupid his dick has made you already. all you knew in this moment was that you needed every. single. inch of him.

“don’t worry, you got it all. just focus on feeling good for me,” jungkook whispered in your ear, now starting a steady rhythm of deep thrusts. you didn’t need to be told twice, and just completely went limp, allowing him to have his way with you once more.

his rough fingers grabbed at the fat of your hips, pulling you more into him, so he could fuck you harder.

“you like that? like when i fuck you like this?” he growled, wrapping his tatted bicep around your neck. your chin was resting on his forearm, and soon enough drool was dribbling from between your plush lips and onto his skin.

the loud moan you let out was more than enough of a response for him.

being trapped in his arms like this always made you excited, and a little scared. he was just sooo much bigger compared to you, and the fact that he was able to keep you in place or manhandle into any position he wanted didn’t make the obsession any better.

“ah ah ah! o-oh my goddd,” your baby pink, sock covered feet kicked wildly against the bed when his cock hit a spongy spot particularly deep inside of you. “gon—gonna cum soon,” you wept into his skin, the coil in your tummy getting tighter and tighter as the seconds passed.

“i-i know. i can feel it.”

and he wasn’t lying. your walls pulsed around him like crazy, warning him of your nearing orgasm. the loud squelching that happened each time he pushed into you was also a dead giveaway.

jungkooks hand snaked beneath your bodies once more, stopping at your lower tummy. he used three fingers to push down, hard.

this had your eyes crossing, your back arching into his scorching hot chest.

“j-jeonnn—!” you squealed out, limbs having a mind of their own as they twitched and shook violently underneath him.

jungkook tightened his grip around your neck, and fucked into you even harder, milking your orgasm for all it was worth.

“uhn, shit. squeezin’ me so tight, baby. who’s fucking you so good like this, huh?” he grit out, lowering his head to smush the side of his against your own. his tongue darted out to lick at a stray tear falling down your temple.

you couldn’t speak. your entire mind sounded like static, completely useless. that definitely wasn’t sitting right with your man.

“a-ah! jung—jungkook!” you sobbed out, the nerve endings on you shoulder going crazy from being bitten by him. it hurt, like a lot, but it also felt fucking amazing.

jungkooks tongue lolled out to soothe the bite, and each time his piercing swiped across the sensitive flesh you shivered. “there you go, baby. that’s all i wanted to hear.”

his heavy, brutal thrusts were no more, instead he settled for shallow grinding. god, he was so close to cumming, but he couldn’t. not now at least.

“c’mon. wanna— *huff* wanna fuck in front of the mirror.”

you whined at this, shaking your head weakly in protest. jungkook chuckled, sitting back on his knees, cock still nestled snugly inside of you. he spread your ass cheeks, teeth clamping onto his bottom lip at the sight of your cunt hugging his length so nicely.

“ugh, babe. m’so sensitive, please,” you sniffled, brows scrunching together in pleasure once more. this fucker had the audacity to flex his cock inside you, not even bothering to hide the grin on his face.

“pleaseee? i’ll be extra gentle i promise.”

you let out a small sigh when his rough hands began to massage at your lower back, careful not to press too hard.

“you’re such a liar. as soon as you have me bent over, you’ll be rough again,” you giggled, arousal starting slowly to pool in your belly once again.

you could feel the way his cock twitched, the way the thick veins wrapped around the base thrummed against your walls. fuck, you really wanted to feel the warmth of him nutting inside you.

jungkook mumbled a small apology as he slowly pulled his cock out, and wow. you had his shit glistening. streaks of your cream coated the base, and if you weren’t feeling so tired, he’d make you clean up your mess.

“turn around for me, pretty girl. wanna see your face.”

it took a minute, or three, but you finally managed to turn over with a loud huff. jungkook was still sitting back on his knees, eyes now glued to your swollen cunt.

you were so wet.

dribbles of your cum trailed down your ass cheeks and onto the bed, soaking the black cotton sheets even further. he chuckled, “guess i’m gonna have to do laundry . . . again. what a sloppy pussy you got, princess.”

he slapped your pussy once, twice, and when he did it a third time your thighs were closing in sensitivity.

“what’s wrong? thought you liked when i slapped her like that?” he tongued at the inside of his cheek, admiring how phat your pussy looked with your thighs closed the way they were.

“mm, i do. just extra sensitive right now,” you giggled hugging your knees to your chest.

jungkook slowly got off the bed, and with little to no strength, he pulled you down to the edge by your thighs. your arms reached out for him, and he was happy to lean down to let you wrap your arms around his thick neck.

“gonna let me have my way with you again, cutie?” he smirked, lifting your body off the bed. his rough hands cupped your ass, keeping you flush against his chest. the tip of his cock bumped against your cunt, and if he wasn’t so bent on taking you in front of the long mirror against the bedroom wall, you knew he’d fuck you right here, standing and all.

“you may . . . but you better be gentle. i have work tomorrow, n’ don’t wanna be sore,” your nails scratched at the nape of his neck, making him sigh contently. “you’re the best, baby.”

your legs slowly unwinded from around his waist, allowing him to set you down. you heard a giggle, and whipped your head around. “you laughin’ at me?” you smirked, getting on your knee in front of the mirror.

jungkook joined you on the floor, his lips breaking into an even bigger smile. “yes, yes, a little. your legs are shaking so much, i can’t help it.” and there he went showcasing those two, front bunny teeth that had you falling in love with him all over again every time you saw them.

you shifted towards him, your eyes sparkling like the finest of diamonds. “you’re so handsome,” you whispered, resting your hands on his thick thighs. “gimme a kiss.”

it was so nice to kiss your man again, it really was. his lips were always so soft, and plush. he did things with his tongue during kisses that you didn’t even know were possible!

“s-so obsessed with you,” jungkook moaned into your mouth, his hands gripping onto the fat of your hips so harshly, you were sure to feel it for the next couple hours.

your hand wrapped around his leaky, neglected dick, giving it a few slow pumps. jungkooks abs clenched, and his mouth parted, allowing you to suck his tongue into your mouth.

you let out a small squeak when he smacked your ass, tatted hand grabbing onto the soft, jiggly flesh afterwards. “you’re—heh, y-you’re distracting me,” he moaned softly, giving your ass another quick slap.

“m’sorry, baby. just can’t help myself, i missed your kisses so much.”

jungkook could’ve fucking cried. he was so turned on, and in love right now, the shit nearly brought him to tears.

“no, no, don’t be sorry. never be sorry, especially when it comes to men, remember?” he whined into the kiss, sloppily making his way down your jaw, and into the crook of your neck. “you’re everything—a fucking goddess. everyone should be kissing the ground you walk on.”

jungkook wasn’t even sure what he was saying at this point, too drunk on you and your body to even care what was coming out of his mouth.

your head tilted back in a moan, giving jungkook more access to your neck. “don’ say stuff like that. gonna make me an even bigger brat than i already am.”

jungkook didn’t mind that honestly. yes, you can be the biggest, poutiest brat he’s ever met, but you were his brat.

his brat to punish and reward as he see fit. his to fuck, and then take care of afterwards. his to spoil.

and spoiled you were!

after many failed relationships/situationships, jungkook became your first real boyfriend when you reached your early twenties. he took care of you financially, and loved you in ways you didn’t even know were possible, ruining you for any man or woman that could potentially come after him. (there will be no one that comes after him.)

“i don’t give a fuck about that. gotta keep you bratty so you need me all the time. all i wanna do is be needed by you, y/n.”

with one final kiss to your sweaty skin, jungkook removed his face from that oh so comfortable crook in your neck. “now turn around, and arch for me.”

you didn’t say anything. you just peered at him through your lashes, and gave him that look. the look that silently told him you wanted him to fuck you sooo good, and fill you up with his kids.

you turned around, now facing the mirror. you looked completely spent; the light eye makeup you wore to work was now streaky and smudged. the cherry gloss you were once wearing was now nothing but a memory—jungkook made sure of that.

your eyes found his in the mirror, and never left them as you got on all fours. your back arched, and that’s when jungkook was the first to break eye contact, his eyes immediately falling on your pussy.

you looked very enticing from this angle to say the least.

“remember,” you spoke softly, regaining his attention, “go slow.”

he didn’t want to go slow, like at all. his balls felt so heavy, ready to fill up your soft walls. going slow was the last thing jungkook wanted to do.

but you were his princess, his special girl, his reason for still having hope in this crazy world—so instead of fucking you into you floor like he hated you, jungkook took his time. well sorta.

he used no hands to push himself back inside your warmth, something you both very much enjoyed to watch, and slammed all the way in without warning.

you made a noise between a sob and a moan, completely taken aback by the action. your face fell into the plush carpet, your arch deepened, and jungkook could tell you were going to lay into him by the pout on your lips, but he was quick to shush your whines with a few soft kisses on the small of your back.

“so deep like this . .” your voice was light and airy, brain totally convinced that jungkook was almost in your tummy. a whine bubbled in your chest when he pulled your head up by your hair, forcing you to look at him once more.

“keep your head up. ‘wanna see your face while i fuck you.”

sigh, he had such a way with words.

a small, dopey smile formed on your lips, and he could see the hearts forming in your eyes at the demand. “i’ll keep my head up. promise.”

jungkook offered you a small smile in the mirror, and then his eyes slowly trailed to the sight of your cunt swallowing up his dick. your ass was pressed nice n’ tight against his pelvis, and if he concentrated hard enough, he could feel the heat from your pussy against his balls.

he tongued at his lip piercing, nostrils flaring as he slowly pulled out an inch, and then pushed himself back in. he just kept repeating to himself ‘need to go slow. need to go slow. need to go slow for her.’

while jungkook was having an internal battle to keep his composure, you were having your own challenges trying to keep your head up. each time he pushed back in, he went all the way in to the hilt, letting his fat tip knock against sensitive, spongy spot deep inside you.

a pearl colored ring of cream was now forming on the base of his cock, and that just made it all the more harder to keep his slow, steady rhythm going.

“love taking you like this,” he groaned, grabbing a handful of your peachy ass. when he glanced your reflection in the mirror; your head was still surprisingly up, but your eyes were low lidded, and your teeth were clamped onto your bottom lip so hard it looked like you were on the verge of drawing blood.

thankfully you released the plump flesh to respond to him, “y-yeah, me too.”

although you couldn’t see what he did, you could certainly hear it. the sound of his thick cock splitting open your creamy folds was deafening. you were so wet that at some points, jungkook was afraid his dick would slip right out of you.

“stop clenching s-so much,” he huffed, pulling you back by the fat of your ass to fuck into you not faster, but harder.

each time he was a little more than halfway out, you would clench your cunt around his tip, like you were afraid he’d pull out, and leave you high and dry.

“sorry i just—hah! n-need you to go a little faster? please?” you tried to make it sound like a demand, but under your boyfriends’ hungry stare, it was hard to give him any kind of orders. he made you feel so helpless when he got like this.

“yeah? like this?” the pace of his hips increased slightly, but not enough to satiate you. your eyes met his in the mirror again, “um, more like this—”

you pulled your hips forward, and slammed them back. you repeated this action until jungkook began to match your pace while also maintaining how hard his cock was pumping into you.

you thought he was deep before, but this was entirely new—you could feel him in your chest! it hurt a little, but it hurt so good.

“y-yeah—mm, just like that.” your head was starting to droop, obstructing his view of your pretty, fucked out face. this simply wouldn’t do—not when you’ve reached being peak cockdrunk.

your head was yanked up by your hair, and kept in place by jungkooks hand, his grip not loosening in the slightest. “do you even know what your name is right now?” he chuckled, swatting at your ass before gripping the jiggling flesh.

you whined, lips pushing into a pout as you shook your head ‘no’. this made his smile grow wider, and his balls tighten—he needed you cum inside you now.

his hand moved from your hair to your throat, and with a gentle tug, he finally relieved you of holding yourself up by keeping you pressed tightly against his sweaty chest.

“i’m so fucking cl-ose, god. please tell me you’re close, baby,” his words came out slurred from him mouthing at your shoulder.

you wanted to answer him, please him, but you simply couldn’t find the worlds—let alone move your lips to say them. that was until jungkook threatened to pull out if you didn’t.

you knew he wasn’t bluffing by the way his hips started to slow, and you’d be damned if they came to a complete stop.

you turned your head towards him, and jungkooks lips caught yours in a nasty kiss. tongues were sucked, teeth clashed together, and while he sucked on your bottom lip, you muttered out a breathy, ‘i’m close, kook.’

“i love you so much.”

“i love you m-more.”

several bruising thrusts later, and jungkook was cumming inside you with a loud whine, his hand closing around the sides of your throat a bit tighter to keep you in place. he shoved his free hand between your dripping thighs, and with three thick fingers, he rubbed fast circles on your clit.

“o-oh shittt!” your hand wrapped around his tatted wrist tightly, fingernails digging into his heated skin in a weak attempt to stop him.

“i told you to watch your fucking mouth,” he moaned out, pushing your head into the carpet, hard. you barely noticed though, too wrapped up in your quickly approaching orgasm.

he propped one knee up, and began delivering mean strokes. “you’re kinda struggling to listen today *huff* guess i can’t blame you though,” he chuckled, briefly slowing his thrusts so he could let a glob of spit fall into the already excessively wet mess between your bodies.

his cock as completely covered in your essence and his cum, and fuck, he felt so sensitive and raw, but he just couldn’t stop. in this moment, he truly believed that fucking your creamed pussy like this was the closest he’d get to feeling nirvana.

you were completely taken aback by how rough he was being with you. you loved it. you wanted more.

just as you were about to cum you moaned out ‘oh fuck!’ so loud, you were sure your neighbors heard. this only made jungkook smush your face harder into the carpet, his body hunching almost completely over yours as he fucked you at a speed so quick it had you seeing white.

you could suddenly feel puffs of air against your ear.

“if you wanted to get fucked harder all you had to do was ask—don’t gotta disobey me to get me to do it,” you heard him growl into your ear, and that’s what had you cumming with a squeal, your back arching completely into the floor.

jungkook fucked you through the entire thing, and then some more.

“y-yeah, that’s right. get it out for me—f-fuck, you sound so hot,” he whined into your hair, his pace never once faltering. he pressed a kiss to your sweaty shoulder, and straightened up his back. he bit down roughly on his bottom lip as he admired the erotic sight before him.

“p-pull out!” you moaned out, and when your cunt clenched tightly around his cock, he knew what was coming.

jungkook pulled out completely, and a clear stream of your cum followed, soaking the carpet beneath you. your body went limp, slowly slumping into a pile of mush.

you whimpered, tears free falling down your cheeks as jungkook massaged your ass and lower back. you could hear him mumbling praises, but you were entirely too spent to respond.

“c’mon, lets get you off the floor, and into the shower,” he spoke softly, earning a whine of disapproval from you. “you’re all messy, baby. plus, you need to pee,” he said matter of factly. he never failed to wake you up out a blissful post-fuck catnap to pee.

“fine, but you’re gonna have to carry me.”

“don’t i always, pretty girl?”

fifteen minutes later, you found yourself in the shower with jungkook, steaming water cascading down your sore bodies. jungkook had wrapped your hair up for you before you got in, allowing you to enjoy this quiet time with no worries.

he held you tightly against his chest, and hummed lowly, rocking your bodies side to side. after a few moments he whispered, “you think you can stand by yourself while i wash you?”

he was always such an intimate, sweet man.

you pressed a gentle kiss to his pec and nodded. “wanna wash you too when you’re done,” you mumbled, immediately missing his warmth as you detached your arms from around his slim waist.

jungkook was quick to squirt your favorite hemp rose soap into a loofa, and with careful hands, he scrubbed your body. first was your shoulders, and then your breasts where he took his sweet time, and as he scrubbed over your tummy and lower abdomen, a certain feeling had your lower half tingling.

“turn around, baby,” he hummed, adding more soap onto the loofa. he washed over your back carefully, afraid that if he added too much pressure, you’d shatter right in front of him.

he had you turn towards him once again, and got on his knees so he could wash your legs. he was very thorough. not a an inch of skin gone untouched by him.

he was eye level with your still messy pussy, and he’d be lying if he said taking a lick or two didn’t cross his perverted mind.

he looked up at you through his dripping lashes, “could you hand me your washcloth, please? gotta, um, clean up between your thighs.”

you brushed dark, wet strands of hair out of his face, allowing you to see those oh so tempting big, brown eyes of his.

“how about . . you use your tongue?” your voice came out tiny at the end, embarrassment flooding your system. you weren’t the best at dirty talk like this freak was.

he smirked at you, “yeah? want me to clean you up?”

he kissed at the insides of your thighs, nipping at the petal soft skin every now again to hear you gasp. your back fell against the cool tiles of the shower wall when you felt his tongue ghost over your slit.

he swiftly, yet calmly lifted your leg up by the back of your knee, and set it carefully over his shoulder. his tongue flattened, and slowly licked between your folds. the taste that greeted him was nothing less than sweet.

because of his great diet, jungkooks cum was on the sweeter side, so he never minded eating it out your pussy, especially when yours was mixed with it.

“keep going s-slow like that,” you huffed out, bucking your hips up. jungkook hummed and continued slowly stroking your clit, with his tongue. when his piercing brushed over it you mewled like a kitten, brows scrunching in pleasure.

his hand caressed the thigh that was on his shoulder, leaving a trail of goosebumps with each touch.

“good pussy,” he mumbled into your cunt, circling your hole with his tongue before slowly pushing it inside. your stomach caved in in sensitivity, a broken moan slipping past your kiss bitten lips.

his tongue massaged your sensitive walls, curling up just enough to have your thighs twitching. his nose nudged against your clit with each movement, bringing you closer and closer to your umpteenth orgasm of the night. you’d lost count long ago.

you nearly collapsed when you felt a finger prod at your entrance, and jungkook was quick to kiss your whines away with small pecks to your clit. “just one, baby. just wanna get you to where you need to be,” he groaned into your cunt, sucking your clit between his plump lips.

your thighs started to shake, and it wasn’t love before you were creaming all over jungkooks tongue with a high whimper. he laved his tongue sloppily over your swollen button, making you ride out your orgasm for as long as possible.

he licked your pussy clean, not leaving a drop behind to be wasted. “always so sweet for me,” he grinned, kissing the mound of your pussy before standing.

“now let me actually clean you up, needy girl,” he smirked, reaching for your lilac colored washcloth. he was gentle as ever as he slide the cloth over your gooey folds. he would mumble sweet apologies anytime he brushed over your raw clit, and each apology was followed by a kiss.

he was next to be washed down, and trust you took your sweet time running the navy blue loofa over his slicked skin. when you reached his lower half, he just smirked at you the entire time.

“my eyes are up here, pretty,” he chortled, regaining your attention that was previously on his soft cock. even when he wasn’t aroused his cock still looked so enticing.

once out of the shower, jungkook did all the work; meaning he dried you off, covered your body in shea butter, and ‘dressed you’ which was just him putting one of his shirts on you with nothing underneath.

all that fucking made him work up quite the appetite, so you weren’t entirely surprised when he started complaining of a rumbling stomach.

you settled on whipping him up his favorite spicy instant ramen with a fried egg. his body was glued to yours the entire time you cooked, lips occasionally pressing a kiss to your clothed shoulder.

“mm, kook,” you giggled, craning your neck away from his eager lips, “go sit, i’m almost finished. i’ll heat up the strudels while you eat.”

“but you’re so warmmm.”

“well, you should’ve put on a shirt. not my fault you wanna walk around and flaunt your muscles,” you grinned, pouring the steaming noodles into his favorite bowl to eat ramen out of.

it was a red, ceramic bowl that you had made during a pottery class you took with your friend. you were insistent on throwing it away because, lets face it, it could’ve been prettier, but jungkook refused to toss it. he insisted it was one of the most beautiful ceramic dishes he’s ever seen. a lie, but a sweet one.

with a huff, jungkook released his hold on you, and slowly made his way to the small table in the corner of the kitchen. he sat in one of the two chairs, and propped his chin on his elbow, admiring the view of you bustling around the small kitchen.

“there, all finished,” you said to yourself, carefully placing the fried egg on top of the noodles. “here you go, baby. careful, its super hot.”

jungkook didn’t head your words, of course, and took a big bite after blowing on the steaming bowl a handful of times. “s’hot . . . but s’good,” he said with a mouthful of food, brows furrowing together almost angrily.

“i’m glad you like them. i tried to eat some, but they were entirely too spicy for me,” you snickered, placing the strudels on a baking sheet.

“oh come onnn, they can’t be that spicy to you. c’mere give them another tryyyy.” even though you knew you were gonna regret your decision to indulge in the spicy food, you didn’t mind in the slightest knowing it would make jungkook happy.

begrudgingly, you stalked over to where he was sitting, your hands glued to your sides. “come here, pretty girl. got a small bite right here for you,” he smirked, holding up his chopsticks.

you made a small noise that sounded like a whine, and bent down, taking his chopsticks between your lips. sure enough, they were too hot for your tastebuds, leaving behind a painful sting as you swallowed them.

“ack! see, kook! too spicyyyy,” you panted out, shuffling your way over to the fridge.

as you downed a glass of ice cold cranberry juice to soothe the ache in your mouth, jungkook just watched with hearts in his eyes.

man, was he in love with you.



[fics-lovebot]

jungkook fic recs - pt. 3

main masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[cherrygkoo]

정국 - What Happens In Vegas | oneshot

the one where you visit your best friend jungkook on tour in vegas, finally give in to three years of wanting, and learn the hard way that what happens in vegas definitely does not stay in vegas.

pairing: idol!jungkook x fem!reader

genre: friends to lovers au, porn with plot, angst, smut (mdni!)

word count: 10,145

warnings/tags: 18+, explicit smut, unprotected sex, creampie, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, praise kink, degradation, best friends to lovers, pining for three years, oral sex (f. and m. receiving), ball sucking, nipple play, clit stimulation, fingering, grinding and dry humping, cum play (he eats his own cum from her, spits it in her mouth), hair pulling, hickies/marking, fingering, missionary, cowgirl, doggy style, jungkook and reader get into a fight, vegas hotel aesthetic, backstage access, the morning after, viral vlog gone wrong, reader is from los angeles, reader is nicknamed la and sunshine

a/n: hi everyone! I'm so excited to have finished this story, I've been working on it for a while trying to make it perfect!!! I had so much fun writing it ++ any vegas jungkook look always ends up being my favorite so I had to write something for it. vegas air x jungkook is definitely a dangerous combo!!! anyway, I hope you guys like my fic. I'm thinking of opening a taglist?? comment if you want to be tagged for any of my future works. tysm for reading... don't forget to reblog ⋆. 𐙚 ˚<3

The flight from LAX to LAS takes just over an hour, but you have been awake since four in the morning, watching the dark ceiling of your apartment, listening to the distant hum of the freeway. You told yourself you weren't going to do this. You told yourself you were going to be mature, respect the boundaries of his tour, let him have this without you hovering at the edges like some ghost of Los Angeles past.

But then you saw his story. Posted at 2 AM, the timestamp glowing accusatory in your dark bedroom. Backstage at Allegiant Stadium, the concrete corridors painted that particular shade of industrial beige that exists in every venue in every city in the world. He was holding that stupid vintage camcorder he insists on using for everything, the one that makes everything look like a memory even as it's happening, and he was complaining about the dry Vegas air, about how his skin feels tight, about how he misses the humidity of Seoul, of home, of-

Of you. He didn't say it. But you heard it anyway.

You booked the ticket before the video looped a second time. You packed a bag with clothes you didn't bother to fold, just stuffed them in like you were running from something, and you drove to the airport with the windows down, the Los Angeles winds whipping your hair into a frenzy, the city sprawling behind you in its perpetual golden-hour haze.

Now you are standing in the loading dock of Allegiant Stadium, ducking under yellow caution tape that says CREW ONLY in letters that have faded from sun exposure. The desert heat hits differently here, drier, more aggressive, sucking the moisture from your skin the moment you step out of the rideshare. You can hear them - distant, muffled, the thump of bass vibrating through the concrete bones of the building, the soundcheck for a show that won't happen for hours.

You should have told him. You know you should have told him. But there's something delicious about the surprise, about the look that will break across his face when he sees you, about the possibility that he might be as hungry for this collision as you are.

The security guard starts toward you, hand raised, mouth open to tell you to leave, but you flash the laminate that Hoseok sent you three hours ago in a text that just said come with seventeen exclamation points. The guard squints at the pass, squints at you, and waves you through with a shrug that says he's seen stranger things in this city.

Backstage is a labyrinth. You move through it like you're dreaming, past roadies coiling cables with practiced efficiency, past catering tables laden with fruit you know no one will eat, past the wardrobe racks that smell like dry cleaning and sweat. You find the corridor that leads to the stage-left wing, the one he's posted from, and you press yourself against a concrete pillar that is cool against your spine, and you wait.

The music stops. Starts again. Stops. They're running 2.0 now, you think, or maybe it's Aliens, the melody distorted through the walls, stripped of vocals, just the skeleton of the song. You check your phone. One hour until doors, three until showtime - an eternity.

You watch the makeup artist - Miyoung, you remember her name from his stories - touch up a dancer's jawline with a small brush, precise and unhurried. You drift toward her like you're caught in her orbit, and she looks up, recognizes something in your face, maybe, or just sees another lost girl in a venue full of them.

"You look like you need coffee," she says, not unkindly.

"I look like I need a lot of things," you reply, and she laughs, a bright sound that cuts through the industrial hum.

"Sit," she says, patting the chair next to her station. "I'll fix your face. You look like you flew in this morning."

"I did."

She makes a considerable noise and tilts your chin up with gentle fingers. The brush is soft against your skin, cool, soothing. She works in silence for a while, dusting something golden across your cheekbones, lining your eyes with a precision you could never manage yourself.

"You're the LA girl," she says finally. It's not a question.

You freeze. "He talks about me?"

Miyoung smiles, something knowing and soft. "He talks about the weather in LA. About the traffic. About this coffee shop near your apartment that he wants to try. About how the light looks different there, how it makes everything look like a movie." She steps back, assesses her work. "There. Now you don't look like you just survived a redeye."

You look in the mirror. You look like yourself, but sharper, more luminous, like someone worth flying for.

"Thank you," you say, and she squeezes your shoulder before turning back to her kit.

Time moves strangely backstage. You help a roadie tape down a cable. You accept a bottle of water from a staff member who doesn't ask your name. You watch the dancers stretch, their bodies bending in ways that seem to defy physics, and you think about your own body, about the way it feels heavy with wanting, weighted down by all the things you haven't said.

And then soundcheck ends. The distant thrum of voices, seven of them overlapping, laughing, complaining about the monitors, about the heat, about the dry air that makes their throats scratch. You press yourself harder against the pillar, heart hammering against your ribs, and you wait for him to appear around the corner.

But it's Namjoon first, tall and tired, glasses slipping down his nose, still in his rehearsal clothes. He sees you before you can decide whether to hide or run, and his face shifts from confusion to recognition to something like delight.

"LA?" he says, and his voice carries.

You push off the wall, suddenly nervous, suddenly aware of every hour of sleep you missed, every reason this was a bad idea. "Surprise?"

Namjoon crosses the distance between you in three long strides and pulls you into a hug that lifts you slightly off your feet, that smells like his cologne and the faint metallic tang of the venue. "You're insane," he says into your hair, but he's laughing. "He's going to lose his mind."

"I wanted to-"

"Surprise him," Namjoon finishes, setting you down but keeping his hands on your shoulders, studying your face with that particular intensity he has, the one that makes you feel like he's reading the footnotes of your thoughts. "I know. I can tell." He squeezes once. "Be gentle with him. He's been... he's been looking at his phone a lot."

Before you can ask what that means, there's a whoop from down the corridor, and Hoseok is running toward you, arms windmilling, grinning so wide it looks like it hurts.

"You came!" he shouts, and you brace yourself as he collides with you, spins you, sets you down only to step back and present his cheek with theatrical expectation.

You laugh, the sound surprising you, and you give him a light slap - firm enough to sting, playful enough to mean nothing - before pulling him into a hug that smells like sweat and peppermint gum. "I came," you confirm.

"Jungkook-ah doesn't know?"

"Not yet."

Hoseok's eyes gleam with mischief. "Oh, this is going to be good. This is going to be so good."

The others filter past - Jimin with a wave, Taehyung with a curious tilt of his head, Yoongi and Jin with nods that somehow feel like approval. They don't question your presence, or if they do, they keep it to themselves. You're part of the furniture here, part of the landscape of Jungkook's life that they've all learned to navigate around.

And then, there he is.

He's at the end of the corridor, still holding that camcorder, the one with the duct tape on the side where he dropped it in Tokyo. He's talking to it, narrating his life in that soft, sleepy voice he gets after he sings, something about the venue, about the soundcheck, about how the dry air makes his throat feel like sandpaper.

He doesn't see you at first. He's looking at the lens, at himself, performing even when he thinks no one is watching. You have time to study him - the way he has slimmed down since the last time you saw him, all sharp angles and new edges, the way his forehead is finally visible again with this haircut, the one you told him suited him best, and the tiredness in his shoulders that he carries like a secret, like something he's ashamed of letting show.

You step out from behind the pillar.

"LA?"

Your name hangs in the air - the nickname he gave you three years ago in Budapest, then cemented during those long weeks in Los Angeles when they filmed the album, when you were around so much you became part of the furniture, part of the language. They say it like a word, like a place, like something that means her and home and the one who keeps leaving all at once. The camcorder lowers slowly. His face shifts through seventeen emotions: confusion, disbelief, hope, fear, sunlight breaking through clouds.

"You're not-" He stops. Steps forward. "You're actually here."

You shrug, missing casual by miles. "You said you missed humidity."

He stares. The camcorder hangs forgotten, still recording. You see the pulse in his throat, his hand tightening on the strap until his knuckles whiten.

Then he's moving.

He crosses the space in a rush that feels gravitational, arms around you, lifting you off your feet, spinning you once, twice, laughing into the curve of your neck. He smells like rehearsal - sweat and cologne and something uniquely him, the fabric softener you bought him last Christmas.

"You're insane," he says, setting you down but not letting go, hands gripping your waist like you'll evaporate. "When did you- how did you-"

"Hoseok," you admit. Hoseok cackles behind you.

"Hoseok," Jungkook repeats, but he's not angry, only present, eyes scanning your face like he's memorizing it, like he's been starving and you're the first meal. "I can't believe you. I can't believe you're here."

"Surprise," you say softer, and his expression shifts, becoming tender and vulnerable.

"Yeah." He breathes. "Surprise."

He doesn't let go. The camcorder bumps your hip. He looks down at it, forgotten, then back at you with a question.

"Keep filming," you say.

He lifts the camera, captures both of you in the frame. You see yourself on the small screen - flushed, bright-eyed. See him looking at you instead of the lens.

"Day three in Vegas," he says, voice rough. "Soundcheck finished at Allegiant Stadium. We ran 2.0 and Aliens and-" he glances at you, swallows, "-LA is here. She just showed up. Like a ghost. Like a miracle."

"Not a miracle," you protest, smiling.

"Miracle," he insists. He turns the camera off, pulls you back into his arms, face buried in your hair. "Stay," he mumbles.

"I'll stay for now," you say, and he exhales like you've granted him something precious.

The hours blur. You find your place at the end of the southwest walkway, pressed against the scaffolding where the lights don't reach, where the curtain hangs heavy and dark between you and the world. Through the screen you can see them - seven figures moving through their formations on the central stage, then dispersing down the four walkways that stretch like arms reaching for the crowd.

From here the stadium opens up around you, three hundred sixty degrees of screaming, of light sticks creating oceans of color, of faces tilted upward like they're looking at something holy. You watch him move down the northeast walkway, then the northwest, then back to center, and you can imagine the sweat on his brow, can see the way he scans the crowd between lyrics, the way his shoulders relax when he finds your shadow in the wings.

You watch them run through Into the Sun - his voice rising through his verse like something carved from light, like a prayer offered up in a language only the faithful understand. He sounds angelic, truly, the kind of voice that makes you understand why people build religions around beauty, why they kneel before things they cannot comprehend. Through the screen his face flickers, close-up, ethereal, and you think of Hungary, of that bar in Budapest where you met, where he was just a boy with a pretty smile and you were just a girl who didn't know enough to be impressed.

He thought you were cute. You thought he was funny. The night ended in laughter and phone numbers exchanged on a napkin you still have somewhere, pressed between the pages of a book you never finished.

Now thousands of people scream his name, reaching toward the walkway like they could pull him down and keep him. You watch girls cry, boys scream, bodies pressed against barriers, living for this moment, this proximity to something they've only ever seen through glass.

And you realize - with something that feels like vertigo - that you are living someone's dream. That the boy they're screaming for is the same one who texts you memes at 3 AM, who sends you voice notes complaining about his laundry, who fell asleep on your couch last November and drooled on your throw pillow.

The thought makes you feel strange, temporary, like a glitch in the system. Like eventually the universe will notice and correct its error.

But then he's moving toward you, down the southwest walkway, and through the distance you see his eyes find yours, and he smiles - not the performance smile, but something smaller, real, meant only for you.

For a moment, the stadium fades. It's just his face - looking at you like you're the only person in the room.

Then the song ends, and he's turning, and the crowd roars, and you're just a shadow in the wings again, watching someone else's miracle from behind a curtain.

After, when the lights go down and the crowd roars and fades, you find yourself swept up with the others, with pizza that tastes like cardboard and the chaos of post-show adrenaline. You're part of the furniture here - helping Namjoon find his glasses, listening to Hoseok complain about his feet, letting Yoongi show you a meme.

"Where's Jin?" you ask at one point, noticing the empty chair.

"Asleep," Taehyung says, scrolling through his phone. "Said he's going to sleep for a year. So tired."

You laugh, and Jungkook watches you from across the room, eyes following the shape of your smile.

It's barely past eleven when Namjoon stretches, joints popping. "Food," he announces.

"That bar in the hotel, the one with the good sliders. Who's coming?"

"I'm in," Hoseok says, already reaching for his jacket.

"Me too," Jimin adds.

Taehyung looks at you, then at Jungkook, something knowing in his expression. "LA? You hungry?"

You are, suddenly - starving in a way that has nothing to do with food. You look at Jungkook. He's watching you, waiting.

"Yeah," you say. "I'm coming."

♤ ♡ ♧ ♢

The bar is in the lobby of their hotel, some trendy spot with leather booths and neon signs that look vintage but aren't. It's nearly midnight but Vegas doesn't sleep, the place half-full of tourists in sequins and people who lost money and are drinking their way back to even.

You slide into a booth after Namjoon, and Jungkook slides in after you, thigh pressed against yours in a way that feels deliberate. The others arrange themselves - Taehyung and Jimin on one side, Hoseok beside Namjoon - and a waiter appears with waters and menus.

He's tall, dark-haired, the kind of handsome that moves through spaces like he owns them. His eyes find yours immediately, skipping over the five famous faces at the table like they don't register, like you're the only one in the room.

"Can I get you anything else?" he asks, but he's looking at you, his smile slow and deliberate. "Another drink? Something... special?"

You order another gin and tonic, and he touches your hand when he takes the empty glass, his fingers warm, lingering. "Excellent choice. I'll make sure it's perfect for you."

You feel Jungkook shift beside you, his thigh going rigid against yours, his arm pressing harder into your shoulder.

"Thanks," you say, and the waiter smiles again, all teeth, before finally turning away.

"Friendly," Taehyung observes, his eyes amused, watching Jungkook."Very friendly," Jimin adds, and you can hear the smirk in his voice.

"He's just doing his job," you say, but under the table Jungkook's hand finds your knee, his grip tight, his thumb pressing hard enough to make you look at him.

"What?" you mouth.

He shakes his head, jaw tight, reaching for his water with his free hand. "Nothing."

But his hand doesn't move from your knee, and when the waiter returns - your drink balanced on his tray, his smile even wider - Jungkook's fingers dig in just slightly, a warning, a claim.

"Here you are," the waiter says, setting the glass down, his hand brushing yours as you take it. "Made it just for you. Extra lime, like you asked."

"You remembered," you say, surprised.

"I pay attention," he says, his voice dropping, intimate in the noise of the bar. "To things worth remembering."

Jungkook makes a sound, low in his throat, almost a growl. The waiter glances at him, finally, recognition flickering - oh, that’s Jeon Jungkook - but he doesn't back down. If anything, his smile widens, a challenge in his eyes.

"Anything else I can get you?" he asks, but he's looking at you, only you.

"We're good," Jungkook says, his voice flat, final, his hand sliding from your knee to your thigh, his palm hot through your jeans, claiming territory. "Thanks."

The waiter nods, slowly, his eyes lingering on you one last time before he turns away.

"Possessive," you murmur, not looking at Jungkook, your heart hammering against your ribs.

"Not," he lies, his hand staying on your thigh, his thumb tracing patterns that feel like writing, like spelling something out in a language only you two speak.

"You literally just-"

"Drink your gin," he interrupts, his voice rough, his eyes fixed on the waiter's back across the bar. "Before I do something stupid."

"Like what?"

He finally looks at you, his expression dark, his pupils blown wide in the dim light. "Like go over there and explain that you're not... that he shouldn't..."

"That I'm not what?"

He stares at you, his jaw working, his hand tightening on your thigh. "Available," he says finally, the word torn out of him. "That you're not available."

The silence between you stretches, filled with the noise of the bar, the laughter of his friends, the weight of three years of pretending.

"Am I not?" you ask, your voice quiet, barely audible.

His eyes search yours, desperate, hungry, all the things he's never let himself show you. "Are you?"

You don't answer. You can't. But you don't move his hand from your thigh, and when the waiter passes again, you don't look up, and Jungkook's fingers relax, just slightly, like he's breathing again.

"So," Jimin interrupts the two of you, leaning forward, eyes bright with mischief. "LA flies to Vegas unannounced. This is a rom-com plot."

"It's a horror movie," you say. "I'm the ghost who haunts his tour."

"You're not haunting," Jungkook says, "You're... visiting."

"Visiting," Taehyung repeats, tasting the word. "Very casual. Very normal."

You kick Jungkook's ankle. He kicks back, grinning.

The conversation moves around you - tour logistics, the venue tomorrow, Jin asleep upstairs dreaming of hibernation. You eat a slider that tastes like salt and grease and watch Jungkook from the corner of your eye. He's animated, hands moving as he talks, but every few minutes his attention drifts back to you, checking, making sure you're still there.

Hoseok orders a third plate of sliders. He eats them with the focus of a man possessed, and when he finally sits back, patting his stomach with a groan, he stretches his arms over the back of the booth and sighs, long and loud.

"God, I love Vegas," he says. "No consequences. What happens here, stays here, right?"

He says it with a grin, rubbing his stomach, and you realize he's talking about the sliders - about the gluttony, the grease, the way he's going to feel this in the morning. It's a joke about guilt, about indulgence, about pretending the things you do in this city don't follow you home.

But Jungkook looks at you, and you look at him, and for a second the noise of the bar fades out entirely. His eyes are dark in the dim light, and you know he's thinking about all the things that could happen here, all the things you've never let happen anywhere else.

You look away first. Take a long sip of your drink.

"Speaking of," Namjoon says, and his voice is careful, deliberate, breaking the spell.

"We should head up. Early call tomorrow."

"Already?" Jimin whines, but he's already sliding out.

"Come on," Hoseok says, standing. He looks at you, then at Jungkook, and his smile softens into something almost gentle. "Don't stay out too late."

They leave in a cluster, Taehyung waving over his shoulder, Jimin making a kissy face that Jungkook flips off. And then it's just you and him, alone in the booth, the neon buzzing overhead.

"You didn't have to stay," you say, tracing a water ring on the table.

"I wanted to." He pauses. "I have stuff for you, actually. Merch. The good stuff. It's in my room."

"In your room," you repeat.

"In my room."

You look at him. He's watching you carefully, no smile now, just open want and the fear that you'll say no.

"Okay," you say.

♤ ♡ ♧ ♢

The elevator ride is silent. The corridor is silent. His room is on the thirty-fourth floor, corner suite, Vegas sprawled out below like a circuit board, like a promise.

You stand at the window while he dumps his bag on the bed, spreads out offerings - a hoodie that smells like him, a hat, stickers, a photocard.

"Here," he says, patting the space beside him.

You sit. The bed dips. You're close enough to feel his heat, see the tiredness in his eyes, feel your hand trembling when you pick up the photocard.

"Someone had a fan tonight," he says, and his voice is casual, too casual, the way it gets when he's hiding something sharp.

You blink, looking up from the photocard you've been turning over in your fingers. "What?"

"At the bar." He doesn't look at you. He's arranging the stickers in a neat row, aligning their edges with precision that feels like avoidance. "The waiter - he couldn't stop looking at you."

You laugh, surprised, the sound bright in the quiet room. "Are you serious? You had like seventy-two thousand people screaming your name tonight."

"Seventy-two thousand and one," he corrects, and there's a smirk tugging at his mouth, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "But I'm serious. The waiter, Sunshine. He was into you."

"I didn't notice." You set the photocard down, reach for the hoodie, bring it to your nose to breathe in the smell of him-fabric softener and something else, something warm. "I was too busy watching you eat like you hadn't seen food in a week."

"Of course you didn't notice." He says it softly, almost to himself, and something in his tone makes you look up.

"What?"

"Nothing." He stands suddenly, moves to the window, his back to you. "It's just... you never do. Notice things."

You frown, the hoodie forgotten in your lap. "What do you mean?"

"I mean you fly in, you fly out, and you act like you're just passing through." He's still not looking at you, his reflection fractured in the glass, doubled by the city lights behind him. "Like this-" he gestures vaguely at the space between you, at the room, at everything "-like it's just... convenient. Like I'm just convenient."

"Jungkook-"

"Three months." He turns now, and his face is carefully blank, the mask he wears for interviews, for cameras, for strangers. "Three months since you were in Seoul. And you didn't even tell me you were thinking about coming tonight. Hoseok knew before I did."

"I wanted to surprise you-"

"Surprise me," he repeats, and there's a note in his voice you can't name. "Or keep your options open? In case you changed your mind?"

You stand up, blood starting to rush in your ears. "That's not fair."

"Is it?" He takes a step toward you, then stops, like he's afraid of what he'll do if he gets closer. "Last time you were in Tokyo, you left early. Said you had work. But I saw the pictures. You were at the beach with friends. You just... didn't want to stay."

"That was different-"

"Was it?" Another step. His hands are fisted at his sides. "Or the time before that, in New York? You said you'd come to the show, but you got 'caught up' with your ex-"

"He needed help moving-"

"And you needed to be there." He's close now, close enough that you can see the pulse hammering in his throat, the flush high on his cheeks. "You needed to be there for him, but you can't be here. Not really. Not when it counts."

"That's not-" You shake your head, defensive, confused by the velocity of this, by how fast the ground is shifting beneath you. "I'm here now. I flew here. For you."

"For now," he says, and his voice cracks, just slightly, just enough. "For tonight. And then what? Tomorrow you'll be back in LA, and you'll text me when you're bored, when you need a distraction, when you want to feel like someone wants you-"

"Stop-"

"But actually showing up?" He's not yelling, but his voice has gone tight, strange, the way guitar strings sound before they snap. "Actually staying? Letting this be real? You'd never risk it. Because then you might have to want me back. You might have to need me. And god forbid, Sunshine-god forbid you ever need anyone."

The words hit like a slap. You stare at him, breathing hard, the makeup Miyoung applied feeling suddenly like a mask, like armor you don't know how to remove.

"That's not fair," you whisper, but your voice breaks.

"Isn't it?" He turns away again, paces to the window, and his reflection is fractured, doubled, and you can't tell which one is the real him. "At least the waiter looked at you. At least he saw you. You act like I'm invisible unless you need something. Unless you're lonely, unless you're sad, unless you want someone to tell you you're pretty at 3 AM-"

"Fuck you," you say, louder now, anger rising up to meet the hurt. "That's not- I'm not-"

"What?" He spins around. "What are you, Sunshine? Tell me. Because from where I'm standing, you're the girl who keeps me on a shelf. Who takes me down when she's bored and puts me back when she's done. And I keep letting you. I keep waiting by the phone like some fucking-"

"Stop it!" You grab your bag from the chair, hands shaking. "I'm not doing this. I'm not-"

You get three steps toward the door before his hand closes around your wrist.

"Let go."

"Why?" His grip tightens, not hard, just enough to stop you, enough to make you feel the heat of his palm against your pulse point. "So you can run again? Back to LA, right? Back where it's safe? Where you don't have to feel anything?"

You wrench your arm, but he doesn't let go. You're facing each other now, breathing hard, inches apart, and you can see the shine in his eyes that he won't let become tears, can see the way his jaw is clenched so tight it must ache.

"Say it," he says, low, rough. "Say you're running."

"I'm not-"

"Say it."

And you can't. Because you're not running, you've never been able to run from him, not when he's looking at you like this - like you're breaking his heart and saving it all at once.

"I hate you," you whisper.

"No, you don't," he says, and then his mouth is on yours.

It's hard and desperate and tastes like years of waiting, and for a moment you melt into it, your body betraying you, your hands fisting in his shirt and pulling him closer. But then your brain catches up, the words he just threw at you still sharp in your chest, and you push against his shoulders, breaking the kiss with a gasp.

"Wait," you breathe, your lips tingling, your heart hammering. "Wait, you don't get to do that."

He's breathing hard, his eyes dark, his hands still gripping your waist. "Do what?"

"Blame me," you say, your voice shaking. "You don't get to tell me I never stay, that I never risk anything, and then just kiss me like that fixes it. Like I'm the only one who messed this up."

His jaw tightens. "That's not what I-"

"It is," you cut him off, pushing against his chest until he steps back, giving you space. "You want to talk about me leaving? About me not expressing my feelings? Well what about you, Jungkook? When have you ever told me to stay? When have you ever actually said what you want?"

He stares at you, chest heaving, and you see something flicker in his eyes - hurt, defensiveness, the mirror of your own accusations.

"I've been here," he says, his voice low, dangerous. "I've been right here, watching you date assholes who don't deserve you, watching you leave and come back and leave again. What was I supposed to do? Beg you?"

"Yes!" you shout, the word tearing out of you. "Maybe! Or at least tell me! Tell me you want me to stay instead of just letting me go, letting me think you don't care-"

"I care," he snaps, stepping toward you again, crowding you back against the wall. "I care so fucking much it makes me sick. Is that what you want to hear? That I've been in love with you for three years and I've been dying every time you walk away?"

Your breath catches. "Then why didn't you say-"

"Because you were always leaving!" He's close now, so close, his hands braced on either side of your head, caging you in. "And you seemed fine with it. You seemed fine with whatever we are."

"I'm not bored," you whisper, your voice breaking. "I was never bored. I was scared. I'm still scared."

"Of what?"

"Of this," you say, gesturing between you. "Of wanting you this much. Of needing you and having you leave instead."

"I'm not leaving," he says, his voice softer now, raw. "I've never left. You're the one who-"

"Because you never asked me to stay," you interrupt, and there are tears in your eyes now, hot and humiliating. "You never said don't go. You just let me."

He stares at you, his expression shifting, softening, the anger draining out of him like water. "I didn't think I had the right," he admits, quiet. "I didn't think you wanted me to ask."

"Well I did," you say, your voice small. "I do."

He leans in then, slow, giving you time to pull away, and brushes his lips against yours - softer this time, questioning. You don't pull away. You kiss him back, tentative, tasting the salt of tears you can't tell are his or yours.

"Stay," he whispers against your mouth, his hands moving to cup your face, thumbs brushing your cheeks. "Don't go back to LA. Not yet. Stay with me."

"You don't mean that," you say, but you're kissing him again, deeper now, your hands sliding up his chest.

"I do," he insists, breaking the kiss to look at you, his eyes fierce. "I've never meant anything more. Stay tonight. Stay tomorrow. Stay-"

"Stop talking," you breathe, and pull him back to you, your mouth crashing against his, hungry, desperate.

He groans, his hands dropping to your waist, lifting you, and you wrap your legs around him, the friction of him against you making you both gasp. He walks you backward toward the bed, never breaking the kiss, and then you're falling, hitting the mattress with him on top of you, settling between your legs with a weight that feels perfect, inevitable.

"Wait," you gasp, tearing your mouth away, your head spinning. "Wait, I'm still mad at you."

"Good," he growls, his mouth moving to your neck, sucking hard enough to mark. "Be mad. Yell at me. But don't leave."

"I'm not-" you break off with a moan as he grinds against you, his hips rolling in a way that makes you see stars. "I'm not leaving, but you- you have to-"

"Have to what?" He lifts his head, his eyes dark, challenging. "Tell me what you want, Sunshine. Use your words."

"I want you to stop talking in circles," you manage, your hands fisting in his hair, pulling him back to you. "I want you to show me. Show me you want me."

He kisses you again, hard, his tongue sweeping into your mouth, and you meet him with equal fervor, your teeth clicking, your breath mingling. He pulls back just enough to strip your shirt over your head, and you help him, your bra following, and then you're bare and he's looking at you like you're the only thing in the world.

"Beautiful," he breathes, and then his mouth is on your breast, sucking your nipple into his mouth, and you cry out, arching into him.

"Fuck," you gasp, your hands tangled in his hair, holding him there. "Jungkook-"

He switches sides, his hand replacing his mouth on the first breast, pinching and rolling your nipple while he sucks hard on the other, and you're whimpering now, your hips bucking up against him, seeking friction.

"Still mad?" he asks against your skin, his voice smug, teasing.

"Yes," you breathe, but you're pulling at his shirt, desperate to feel his skin. "Take this off. I want to feel you."

He sits back, stripping his shirt off, and you sit up too, reaching for him, your hands running over his chest, his shoulders, the ink on his arms. He shivers under your touch, his eyes falling closed, and you lean in, pressing your mouth to his collarbone, his throat, biting gently at his jaw.

"Tell me," you whisper against his skin. "Tell me what you want."

"I want you," he says, his voice rough, his hands gripping your hips. "I want your mouth on me. I want to be inside you. I want everything, Sunshine, I've wanted everything for so fucking long-"

You push him back, guiding him until he's sitting on the edge of the bed, and you sink to your knees in front of him, your hands working at his jeans. He lifts his hips, helps you strip him, and then he's naked in front of you, hard and thick and straining toward you, and you want him in your mouth more than you want to breathe.

"Fuck," he breathes as you wrap your hand around him, stroke him once, twice. "Sunshine, you don't have to-"

"I want to," you say, looking up at him through your lashes. "I've wanted to. Tell me to stop and I will."

"Don't stop," he groans, his head falling back. "Please, god, don't stop-"

You lean in and lick a stripe up the underside of his cock, from base to tip, and he shouts, his hips jerking forward. You take him into your mouth, sucking lightly, swirling your tongue around the sensitive head, and his hands are in your hair, not pushing, just holding, his fingers trembling.

"Your mouth," he pants, his voice wrecked. "Fuck, your mouth, I've thought about this-"

You take him deeper, inch by inch, until he's hitting the back of your throat, and you swallow around him, hollowing your cheeks. He cries out, a raw, guttural sound, and you pull back slowly, letting him feel every inch, then sink back down, finding a rhythm.

"So good," he babbles, his hips stuttering. "So fucking good, you're perfect-"

You pull off with a wet sound, catching your breath, and he whines at the loss, his eyes opening, fixed on you with desperate hunger. You meet his gaze, then lower your head to his balls, heavy and drawn up tight. You lick at them, soft and wet, and he groans, long and low, his knees spreading wider.

"Sunshine- fuck, that's- don't stop-"

You take one into your mouth, sucking gently, rolling it on your tongue, and the sound he makes is inhuman, a broken moan that echoes off the walls. You lavish attention on them, sucking one and then the other, taking them both into your mouth and rolling them gently, and he's babbling now, incoherent, his hands tight in your hair.

"I'm gonna come," he warns, his voice strained. "Fuck, I'm close, please-"

You pull off with a wet sound, denying him, and he whines, high and desperate, his hips chasing your mouth.

"Not yet," you say, your voice filthy, and you start kissing your way up his body - his hip bone, the sharp line of his stomach, the ridge of his ribs. You push him back onto the bed, your hands firm on his chest, and he goes willingly, sprawling back against the sheets, his cock twitching against his stomach, wet and aching.

"Sunshine," he groans, his voice wrecked. "Please, I need to-"

"You don't get to finish yet," you interrupt, straddling his thighs, pinning him down. "Not when you've been such an ass."

"Then punish me," he challenges, his eyes dark, his chest heaving. "Go ahead."

You lean down, your mouth finding his nipple, and you suck hard, teasing with your teeth, and he shouts, his back arching off the bed, his hands flying to your hair. "Fuck- fuck, that's-"

He snarls, flipping you over suddenly, his strength surprising you, pinning you beneath him. You gasp, your back hitting the mattress, and he's between your legs, his hands rough on your thighs, spreading you open.

"My turn," he growls, his voice low and dangerous. "You got to play. Now I get to taste."

He doesn't wait for permission. He dives in, his mouth hot and filthy on your cunt, licking a broad stripe up your folds that has you screaming, your hands fisting in the sheets. He groans against you, the vibration making you see stars, and then he's spitting on you, wet and obscene, rubbing it into your clit with his thumb before he goes back to sucking you into his mouth.

"Look at you," he murmurs, lifting his head just enough to speak, his chin wet with you, his eyes fixed on your face. "Look how fucking desperate you are. Grinding on me like you couldn't wait to get this pussy on my tongue."

"Jungkook-" you whimper, your hips bucking up, seeking more.

"You want me to eat you out?" he asks, his breath hot against your sensitive skin. "You want me to make you come all over my face? Say it."

"Yes," you gasp, your face burning, your body aching. "Yes, please, eat me out, I need it-"

He goes back to work with a vengeance, his tongue circling your clit before he sucks it hard into his mouth, his fingers sliding into you, curling to find that spot that makes you cry out. He's messy, filthy, spitting on you again to make you wetter, his fingers fucking you in time with the suction of his mouth, and the sounds he's making - groaning like he's the one being worshipped-are driving you insane.

"So fucking sweet," he pants against your thigh, his fingers never stopping, his thumb rubbing tight circles on your clit. "Tastes so good. Been dreaming about this, dreaming about having you like this, making you scream-"

"Don't stop," you beg, your voice breaking, your hands in his hair, holding him there. "Please, don't stop, I'm so close-"

"Come for me," he demands, his tongue flat against you, licking broad and filthy. "Come on my tongue, Sunshine. Let me drink you down."

You do. You let go, and the orgasm crashes through you, violent and overwhelming, your back arching, your vision whiting out, your body clamping down around his fingers in rhythmic pulses. He doesn't stop, keeps licking you through it, drawing it out until you're whimpering, oversensitive, trying to close your legs.

"Can't take it," you gasp, pushing at his shoulders. "Too much-"

He crawls up your body, his face wet with you, and kisses you hard, letting you taste yourself, filthy and perfect. You can feel him, hard and thick against your thigh, already ready again, desperate and throbbing.

"Let me get a condom," he mutters against your mouth, his hand reaching toward the nightstand.

You catch his wrist, stopping him, your heart hammering against your ribs. "No," you breathe, your voice raw, desperate. "Please. I want to feel you. Just you."

He freezes, his eyes snapping to yours, dark and blown wide. "Sunshine," he warns, his voice rough, strained. "You sure? I can't- fuck, I need to be careful with you-"

"I'm sure," you insist, your legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him closer, your heels digging into his lower back. "I'm on the pill. And I trust you. I want to feel you come inside me, Jungkook. Please."

He groans, a broken, guttural sound, his forehead dropping to your shoulder, his whole body trembling against you. "Fuck," he whispers, his voice wrecked. "You can't say shit like that. You can't-"

"Then do it," you challenge, rolling your hips against him, feeling the hot, hard length of him slide against your wetness. "Fuck me bare. Fill me up. Show me you mean it."

He snarls, his restraint snapping, and then he's pushing into you, slow and deep and completely unhindered, and the feeling is overwhelming - hot and thick and perfect, skin against skin with nothing between you. You both cry out, your nails digging into his shoulders, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise.

"Fuck," he pants, his eyes rolling back, his jaw clenched tight. "Fuck, you feel- you're so hot, so wet, I can feel all of you-"

"Move," you beg, your voice breaking, your legs tight around him. "Please, Jungkook, move, I need you-"

He pulls out slowly, almost all the way, and then thrusts back in, hard and deep, and the sound that tears from your throat is primal, needy. The friction is perfect, intense, every ridge of him dragging against your walls, and he's groaning with every thrust, his head thrown back, his chest heaving.

"So good," he grits out, his hips snapping against yours, setting a brutal rhythm. "So fucking good, you're taking all of me, fuck- you're so tight around me, squeezing me-"

"Yes," you gasp, your head thrown back, your back arching off the bed. "Yes, just like that, don't stop, harder-"

He gives you harder, his hips pistoning against yours, the bed creaking beneath you, the headboard knocking against the wall. He's hitting something deep inside you, a spot that makes your vision blur at the edges, and you're clawing at his back, your legs wrapped tight around him, pulling him deeper with every thrust.

"Touch yourself," he demands, his voice ragged, his rhythm faltering slightly as his own pleasure mounts. "I want to see you touch yourself while I fuck you."

You slide your hand between your bodies, your fingers finding your clit, swollen and sensitive, and you rub tight, desperate circles. The added sensation is too much, just enough, and you're climbing again, the pleasure building in waves that crash higher and higher.

"Jungkook," you warn, your voice high, broken. "I'm gonna- I'm close-"

"Not yet," he growls, his thrusts becoming erratic, losing rhythm as he chases his own release. "Not yet, I need to feel you from behind, need to see that ass while I fuck you-"

He pulls out suddenly, leaving you empty and aching, and he flips you over with rough hands, pulling your hips up until you're on your knees, your face pressed against the mattress. He spreads you open with his hands, groaning at the sight of you, wet and open and waiting for him.

"Fuck, look at you," he breathes, his hands gripping your hips, his thumbs spreading your folds. "Look how fucking wet you are for me, dripping down your thighs-"

"Please," you whimper, pushing back against him, seeking friction, seeking him. "Please, Jungkook, I need you inside me-"

He pushes in with one long, smooth thrust, deeper from this angle, hitting places that make you scream into the mattress, your fingers fisting in the sheets. He's groaning, long and low, his grip on your hips bruising as he pulls you back onto his cock, meeting his thrusts.

"So deep," he pants, his voice wrecked. "Fuck, you're so deep like this, taking all of me, fuck-"

He sets a punishing rhythm, his hips snapping against your ass, the sound of skin meeting skin filling the room, wet and filthy. He's hitting that spot inside you with every thrust, the one that makes your legs shake, your vision blur, and you're pushing back against him, meeting him thrust for thrust, desperate for more.

"Touch yourself," he demands again, his hand coming around your hip, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing rough and filthy. "Come for me, Sunshine. Come on my cock while I fuck you like this-"

"Yes," you gasp, your voice muffled against the mattress. "Yes, don't stop, I'm so close-"

He doesn't stop. He fucks you harder, his fingers working your clit in tight, desperate circles, and you're climbing, climbing, the coil tightening, tightening, until-

You come with a scream, your back arching, your body clamping down around him in rhythmic pulses that draw out his own climax. But he doesn't stop, keeps fucking you through it, drawing it out until you're whimpering, oversensitive, your body trembling.

"One more," he growls, his voice strained, his thrusts becoming jerky, desperate. "One more position, I want to see your face when I come-"

He pulls out, flipping you over again, and pulls you up until you're straddling him, your hands braced on his chest. He guides himself back into you, his hands on your hips, and you sink down onto him, taking him deep, so deep you feel impossibly full.

"Ride me," he demands, his eyes dark, his jaw clenched. "Ride my cock, Sunshine. Show me how much you want it-"

You do. You roll your hips, finding a rhythm, your hands bracing on his chest, your nails digging into his skin. He's groaning, his head thrown back, his hands gripping your waist, guiding you, lifting you and pulling you back down onto him.

"Fuck," he grits out, his hips bucking up to meet you, his thrusts becoming erratic, losing rhythm. "You're so fucking beautiful like this, taking my cock, fuck- I'm close, I'm so close-"

He groans, long and low, and then he's coming, his whole body tensing, his cock pulsing inside you, hot and thick and filling you completely. His hands grip your hips hard enough to leave marks, his forehead pressed against your chest, his breath hot and fast against your skin.

"Fuck," he pants, still twitching inside you, his voice wrecked. "Fuck, Sunshine, I wish you could taste me inside of you."

You whimper at the thought, at the filth of it, but before you can respond, he's flipping you onto your back, spreading your legs wide, and diving between your thighs. You gasp, shocked, as he licks at your folds, messy and desperate, gathering the wetness of you both on his tongue.

"Jungkook-" you breathe, your hands flying to his hair, but he's relentless, lapping at you with long, filthy strokes, his tongue delving inside to taste where he just filled you, where you're still warm and full of him.

He lifts his head, his chin wet, his eyes dark and fixed on yours, and then he's crawling up your body, his hand tangling in your hair to tilt your head back. He leans down and spits into your mouth, the taste of you both mingled on your tongue, warm and filthy and intimate, and you moan around it, swallowing, your whole body trembling.

He kisses you then, hard and desperate, his tongue sweeping through your mouth, sharing the taste, the intimacy of it overwhelming, perfect. You kiss him back with equal fervor, your hands fisting in his hair, holding him to you, tasting yourself and him together, the most vulnerable thing you've ever shared.

When he finally pulls back, he's breathing hard, his forehead resting against yours, his eyes searching your face like he's memorizing you.

"Stay," he whispers, his voice rough, his thumb brushing your swollen lower lip. "Not just for now. Stay."

You close your eyes, your heart hammering, and for the first time, you let yourself want it too. "Okay," you whisper. "I'll stay."

♤ ♡ ♧ ♢

The Vegas sun is too bright. It cuts through the gap in the curtains like a warning, landing directly on your face, and you groan, pulling the sheet over your head. Your body aches in places you forgot existed. Your mouth tastes like him, like the filthy things you said to each other in the dark.

You become aware, slowly, that you are not alone in the bed.

He's awake. You can tell by the quality of the silence, the way he's holding himself still, pretending to sleep. You can feel his eyes on you even through the sheet.

"Stop staring," you mumble, your voice wrecked.

"I'm not staring," he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice. "I'm admiring."

You peel the sheet down just enough to glare at him. He's on his stomach, chin propped on his hands, the blanket low on his hips, the ink on his arm shifting as he breathes. He looks annoyingly perfect. Rested. Like he didn't spend hours fucking you until you couldn't remember your own name.

"You're too smug," you say, pulling the sheet back up. "This is weird."

"What's weird?"

"This." You gesture vaguely at the space between you, at the wreckage of the room, your clothes scattered like evidence. "Weird."

He laughs, soft and warm, and reaches out, his hand finding your hip under the sheet. "It's not weird. It's us. Just... finally."

"Don't say finally like that. Like it's inevitable. Like you knew."

"I did know," he says simply, his thumb tracing circles on your skin. "I've known for three years. You were the one who needed convincing."

You bury your face in the pillow, your face burning. "I hate you."

"You don't." He tugs at the sheet, trying to pull you closer. "Come here."

You let him pull you, let yourself be arranged against his chest, his arms wrapping around you, his chin resting on your head. You breathe him in, memorizing this, knowing you shouldn't.

"I have to go back," you say, the words quiet, into his skin.

He goes still. "What?"

"To LA. My flight's at noon."

"Today?" His voice changes, something cracking. "You just got here."

"I know." You close your eyes, your heart hammering. "But I have work. I have... I can't just stay, Jungkook. I can't just-"

"Can't you?" He pulls back, his hands finding your face, tilting it up to look at him. His expression is wrecked, all the softness gone, replaced by something desperate. "Can't you just... stay? For once?"

"I can't." Your voice breaks. "I want to. God, I want to. But I can't."

He stares at you, his thumbs brushing your cheekbones, his eyes searching yours like he's looking for something to hold onto. "So that's it? We do this, we finally do this, and you just... leave?"

"Jungkook-"

"Don't." He lets go, rolling onto his back, his arm thrown over his eyes. "Don't say my name like that. Not if you're going."

The silence stretches, heavy and awful, filled with the hum of the city below, the reality of morning after.

"I'll be back," you whisper, not sure if it's true, not sure if you're promising something you can keep.

"When?"

"I don't know."

He laughs, but it sounds broken. "Yeah. That's what I thought."

You sit up, the sheet pooling around your waist, your chest tight, your eyes burning. You should get dressed. You should leave. You should do what you always do.

But you can't move. You can't make yourself stand up and walk away from this, from him, from the only thing that's ever felt like home.

"Look at me," you say, your voice rough.

He doesn't. He keeps his arm over his eyes, his jaw tight, his whole body radiating hurt.

"Jungkook. Look at me."

Slowly, painfully, he lowers his arm. His eyes are red-rimmed, wet, and it breaks something in you to see it, to know you put that there.

"I'm not running," you say, the words careful, deliberate. "I'm not... this isn't me leaving because I don't want this. I want this. I want you. But I have things I can't just drop. You know that. You have things too."

"So what do we do?" he asks, his voice small, younger than you've ever heard him.

"I don't know," you admit. "But... we figure it out? Together?"

He stares at you, his expression shifting, hope warring with fear. "Together," he repeats, like he's testing the word.

"Yeah." You reach for his hand, your fingers interlacing with his. "I'm not good at this. I'm going to mess it up. But... I want to try. If you do."

He doesn't answer immediately. He looks at your joined hands, at the morning light catching on your skin, at the wreckage of the room around you.

"There's a show in LA," he says finally, his voice quiet. "In three months."

Your breath catches. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." He looks up at you, his expression softening, something like a smile touching his mouth. "Maybe... maybe you could be there. In the audience. Not backstage, not hiding. Just... there. Watching."

"I could do that," you whisper, your heart hammering.

"And after," he continues, his thumb brushing your knuckles, "maybe we could get dinner. Somewhere public. Where people might see."

"Jungkook-"

"I want people to see," he says, his voice firmer now, his eyes holding yours. "I want them to know. I'm tired of hiding this. I'm tired of pretending you don't matter."

You stare at him, this boy who waited, who wanted, who finally let himself have you only to watch you leave. You think of three months, of phone calls and time zones and the particular ache of missing someone who exists in a different world.

"Okay," you say, the word barely audible. "Okay. I'll be there. Front row."

"Please," he counters, a ghost of his smirk returning. "I want to see your face when I sing."

"Deal."

You lean down, kiss him slow and careful, tasting the salt of tears neither of you shed, the promise of something you don't know how to keep. When you pull back, he's smiling, sad but real, his hand still holding yours like he's afraid to let go.

"Go," he says softly. "Before I convince you to stay."

"I don't need much convincing."

"Yeah," he says, his voice rough. "That's what scares me."

You dress in silence, wearing the hoodie he gave you last night, your clothes scattered like breadcrumbs, evidence of what you did here. He watches from the bed, the sheet wrapped around his waist, his eyes following you like he's memorizing you, like he's already missing you.

At the door, you turn. He's still watching, his expression open, vulnerable, nothing like the boy who performs for millions.

"Three months," you say.

"Three months," he echoes.

You smile, small and real, and walk out the door before you can change your mind.

♤ ♡ ♧ ♢

The camera wobbles as he adjusts it on the hotel dresser, angling it toward the bed. He's shirtless, hair messy, eyes soft with sleep and something else, something sated and sad all at once. The morning light filters through the curtains, golden and lazy, illuminating the wreckage of the room - clothes on the floor, sheets tangled, evidence of a night he can't talk about.

"Morning routine," he says, his voice rough, still sleep-thick. "Vegas edition."

He moves through the room collecting things - his phone charger, a water bottle, the vintage camcorder he uses for everything. He doesn't make the bed. He doesn't notice the white bra peeking out from beneath the rumpled white sheets, the strap just visible, the lace detail catching the light.

He sits on the edge of the bed, the camera still rolling, and runs a hand through his hair. "Good show last night," he says, his smile small, private, meant for someone who isn't there. "Really good night."

He stands, stretches, his back to the camera, and the sheets shift, the bra sliding more fully into view - delicate, feminine, utterly wrong for a hotel room where a boy band member sleeps alone.

"Anyway," he says, turning back, oblivious. "Day four today, I'll see you all very soon." He reaches for the camera, hand covering the lens. "Cut."

♤ ♡ ♧ ♢

The video is everywhere within minutes. Screenshots, zoomed-in crops, slow-motion replays. The hashtag starts trending before lunch.

@/kookielover97: um. um. UM. WHAT IS THAT IN THE BED????

@/bangtantheories: THE SHEETS ARE WHITE. THE BRA IS WHITE. HE DIDNT EVEN NOTICE. HE POSTED THIS. HE ACTUALLY POSTED THIS.

@/jungkookbiased: zoom in. zoom in on the bed. second frame from the end. that is NOT a tank top. that is NOT his. WHOSE IS THAT

@/rkivesarchive: ENHANCE. ENHANCE. the lace detail. the strap width. that's a WOMEN'S bra. a women's BRA.

@/kookenthusiasts: he slept in that bed. someone else slept in that bed. HE SMILED LIKE THAT AND SOMEONE SLEPT IN THAT BED.

@/jimingotjams: the bra appears to be a standard white t-shirt bra, possibly Calvin Klein or similar mid-range brand. not expensive. not fancy. someone PRACTICAL was there

@/seokjinsfishingrod: practical. someone practical. someone who doesn't need to impress him. someone who already KNOWS him.

@/theorythread: let's analyze the timeline. he posted the vlog at 11am vegas time. his flight was at 2pm. that means he filmed this MORNING. after someone LEFT. the bed is unmade. the bra is UNDER the sheets. they SLEPT there. together

@/kookielover97: IM SO JEALOUS

@/bangtantheories: the smile. watch the smile again. that's not a performance smile. that's a "i got laid and i'm sad about it" smile. that's a "someone left me" smile. WHO LEFT YOU JUNGKOOK???

@/armydetective: the hoodie he was wearing in his last story. the oversized one. the MERCH one. someone was wearing it. someone was wearing HIS hoodie. and left their BRA.

@/tatasandtaetas: SHE TOOK THE HOODIE. SHE LEFT THE BRA. THIS IS CINEMA.

♤ ♡ ♧ ♢

The text comes through as you're above the clouds, the plane humming around you, his hoodie still soft against your skin. You pull out your phone, expecting a goodbye, a safe flight, something sweet.

Instead: a photo. His hand. Your bra - the white one you couldn't find this morning, the one you left behind in your hurry - wrapped in his fingers, the comments visible on his laptop screen in the background. No words. Just proof.

Then another text.

JK: 2.7 million views

JK: They found you

Your stomach drops. You open the link he sends and there it is - the vlog, the screenshot, the zoomed-in crop of white on white, your bra visible in the wreckage of the bed you shared. The comments are already endless. Bra girl. Who is she. Find her.

You: oh my god

You: jungkook you didn't notice???

JK: I noticed now

JK: I'm keeping it

JK: let them look. let them wonder. I know who you are

You stare at the screen, your heart hammering against your ribs, the hum of the plane filling your ears. Somewhere below, the internet is on fire. Somewhere behind you, he's holding onto the only piece of you he has left, refusing to let go.

JK: three months

JK: front row

JK: I'll see you there

You close your eyes, the phone warm in your hand, his words settling somewhere deep in your chest. Outside the window, clouds stretch endless and white. Ahead, Los Angeles waits. And three months from now, so does he.

[cupidsbling]

Argue or get f*cked? | J.JK

You get your boyfriend mad and instead of apologising, all you do is argue with him – so he decides to fuck the stubbornness out of you.

genre – SMUT, dating au, mutual pining, fluff.

pairing – bf jungkook x gf fem reader.

warnings – arguing, y/n is stubborn and bratty (she's kinda the reason of the argument), a lot of pussy eating , jungkook's freaky, jungkook teases y/n a lot, denied orgasms, fingering, dirty talk, counter sex¿, cock sucking/throat fucking (he makes her get on her knees), worshipping, spanking, titty sucking, rough sex, etc...

wc – 5k+

Jungkook grips the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles whiten. He’s angry, so damn angry, but at this moment, he knows better than to say too much to you. You’re fuming, outraged and yelling at him from the passenger seat.

You’re the sole focus of Jungkook’s life. In the two years of dating you, you’re his everything and more. The one person who drives him mad in the best and worst ways. He’s stupidly and crazily in love with you, but tonight that undying, never-ending, obsessive love is twisted into ugly jealousy and frustration.

Earlier on in the evening you had happily skipped into the living room as he played video games. You twirled in front of him, wearing a very pretty, short, tight and silky black dress.

“Do you like it, Kookie?” you asked mischievously.

Jungkook’s attention switched from the screen to focus on you. When he saw you in the attire, he gulped hard, but forced a smile. “You look gorgeous, baby. But isn’t it a little short?”

You huffed and rolled your eyes at him. “Jungkook, it’s a club night with my girls. I wanna look hot.”

He let you go, of course. He’s not some controlling boyfriend that makes a huge fuss out of things. And he trusts you completely. Yes, he was overprotective and hated knowing other guys would be ogling over what’s his, but he had to believe that you’ll be okay.

When you left, he kissed you and told you to have fun, and to at least text him every hour or so. Just so he knows that you’re safe. Once you were gone, he spent the next few hours trying to distract himself. He gamed, chilled, spent time in the gym down in the basement. But none of it helped his worry, especially when you did not text him. Not even once. He spammed you for hours, but he heard nothing from you. And that might’ve triggered him,  because what could possibly have you so busy that you couldn’t even let him know that you’re okay?

Jungkook did the only logical thing a loving, caring, doting and completely normal boyfriend would do. He tracked your location and drove to the club you were at. It had taken him about a minute to find you. And when he did, he felt his blood boil. You were laughing with and getting too close to another guy. The guy was tall with slightly blonde hair, being a bit too touchy with you. 

“Y/N.” Jungkook called out sternly, causing you to turn to him with widened, surprised eyes.

“Kookie? What are you doing here?” you asked, confused.

“We’re leaving.” He grabbed your wrist to bring you toward him, clearly frustrated and trying to stay calm. He didn’t want to do anything stupid, make a scene, or beat the shit out of this guy for touching what’s his.

You tried to protest, but Jungkook decided to bend down and throw you over his shoulder and walk toward the exit. It was barbaric and awfully embarrassing. Your friends seemed concerned, strangers mumbled and laughed, watching as your boyfriend carried you away like you were a sack of potatoes..

You squirmed and yelled at him, but he didn’t stop until he reached his car, where he then gently deposited you in the passenger seat before walking over to the driver’s side.

“Are you serious right now!?” you yelled as he started the car and began to drive. “You just embarrassed me in front of everyone! How could you drag me out like that? What the hell is wrong with you?”

“You weren’t answering your phone.”

“So you stalk me to the club? Real healthy, Jungkook.” you say, annoyed.

“And why the fuck did I walk in to see you all cozy with some random guy?” he asks as his anger flares at the remembrance of the prick.

“It wasn’t even like that! You always do this!” you yell angrily. You know it’s kind of an exaggeration, but still. “You go out with your friends all the time. Going to clubs, parties and things, and I never say a word. I always trust you. But the second I wanna go somewhere, you make it into an issue. You’re such a hypocrite!”

From then on, Jungkook decided to keep quiet. He’d say what he needed to say at home when he’s not distracted by the road. He never ignores your calls, he always texts you, whenever he’s out there’s not a single woman involved. You’re not drunk, you’re very sober. He surely hopes by the end of the night you’ll come to your senses and see that you’re in the wrong here. He hopes that you’ll explain your side of the story properly and apologise for stressing him out.

By the time you’re home and Jungkook’s parked the car, you’re still fuming at him. You unbuckle your seatbelt and storm to the elevator, eager to get inside. Jungkook follows you with his hands in his pocket, trying to keep calm and quiet, but he cannot.

Once you’re both inside, he finally snaps at you, asking the question that’s been worrying him during the whole ride home. “Who the fuck was that guy, huh?”

Jungkook hovers over you, his eyes boring into yours. The sight is so hot and intimidating.

“He’s a friend, Jungkook. We went to the same college and we were catching up. And might I also add that he’s gay?”

Jungkook exhales and rubs a hand over his face. Okay, now that he’s a little bit at ease, he can admit it to himself – maybe his reaction was a bit overboard. But even so, there are more issues here.

“You didn’t answer me for hours. You went out in that tight, revealing dress when that club is actually full of weird assholes–”

“Oh, here we go again!” you push past him and storm to the kitchen for a glass of ice water.

“You’re out with the guys all the time. Drinking, going to places surrounded by women, but I don’t say anything, because I trust you. But I barely go out, and the one night I have fun, you lose your mind!”

You take a sip of water, but a few droplets of water fall down onto your chest, onto your cleavage. Jungkook’s eyes follow the movement. You’re a vision, even when you’re angry. Fuck, he thinks you’re so hot when you’re angry. He leans against the counter opposite you, folding his arms over his chest. He’s listening to you, well kind of. As you yell at him, his eyes wander over your body. Is he stupid? How could he let you out the house in that short, little dress? No one’s supposed to see you like that but him. He pressed his tongue into his cheek, a habit he often has whenever he tries to hold himself back.

You keep going off at him, oblivious to the way he’s looking at you. “If you can’t trust me, then maybe–”

You look up, making eye contact with him. His eyes are filled with love, frustration and need. His expression causes your stomach to flip, even though you’re so mad at him. Before you can say anything else, Jungkook walks over to you, invading your personal space. One of his hands goes around to grab the back of your neck, the other grabs your waist as he smashes his lips against yours in a hungry kiss. 

You stiffen at first, caught off guard before melting into it, making Jungkook groan at the response. Your hands fist into his shirt as you kiss him. The kiss is sloppy and filthy, you both pour your frustration into it. Jungkook pins you against the counter with his body, allowing you to feel his growing erection against your core.

Jungkook breaks the kiss for a millisecond so he can reach back and yank his shirt over his head, tossing it on the floor carelessly. You don’t have time to admire your boyfriend’s broad chest, his tattoos or his abs as he crashes his lips onto yours again with a groan. Your hands flatten on his chest, caressing there and down his abs while his hands caress your cheek and hip.

You pull back a little to speak against his lips. “I’m still mad at you.”

He scoffs, staring down at you. “Then be mad.” he murmurs.

Before you can fire back, he spins you around with strong hands now on your waist so you’re facing the counter. You gasp and your hands slam onto the counter for balance. Your short dress rides up, revealing more and more of your skin. Jungkook presses himself against you, his bare chest against your back and his hard bulge against your ass.

“I’m fucking mad too.” he says, roughly against your ear

He dips his head so his mouth can latch onto the side of your neck. He licks, sucks and bites on it, leaving a thick, visible mark on you. You exhale shakily when you realise that he is now dropping to his knees behind you. He caresses your sides reverently as he makes his way down to the floor. He pushes your dress up around your waist. The sight that greets him is that of your pretty pink, damp panties. Jungkook grunts before leaning in to bury his nose against the damp fabric. He inhales your scent deeply.

“Fuck…” he curses, muffled against you. “Gonna take it all out on this sweet pussy.”

He hooks his finger into the waistband of your panties and pulls them down your legs, letting them pool at your ankles. His hands grip your thighs firmly, spreading them. Your eyes flutter closed in anticipation, waiting for him to devour you. But Jungkook doesn’t start off like he normally does, he doesn’t dive right in like he’s starving for you. He starts off torturously slow, way too slow. He leaves deep, wet kisses on the back of your thighs as his warm breath fans over your exposed core. He then leans in to teasingly circle the tip of his tongue around your entrance. He doesn’t fully give you what you crave. You do try to push back against him to let him know that you’re extremely needy, but he just tightens his grip on you, holding you in place.

“Kookie… please.” you whine. Because you’re more horny than mad, the sound isn’t as embarrassing as it would be if you were feeling the contrary.

He hums against you, but he keeps teasing. Over and over again, he gives your folds long and slow licks before returning to gently suck on your inner thighs, leaving little marks. You’re aware that he’s doing this because he’s trying to frustrate you like you’ve frustrated him. You’re his woman, he knows you better than anyone in the world. He obviously knows that you can be a little demon when you’re horny so of course the best way to rile you up is through sex.

The teasing becomes too much for you so you try to pull away from him, but his hands are too strong and firm. He yanks you right back where he wants you and gives your inner thigh a warning nip.

“Stay still,” he murmurs roughly. “You wanted to drive me crazy, didn’t you? Now you take this.”

He continues teasing you until you’re whimpering and your legs are shaking. Upon hearing a cute plea from you, Jungkook finally gives in. He buries his face between your thighs and starts to devour you. His tongue plunges in deep, lapping at you filthily and eagerly. He eats your pussy with devotion that has you moaning loudly. 

Jungkook loves this, he loves making you crazy while pleasuring you. He sucks on your clit then fucks you with his tongue, groaning at your taste – since you are his favourite thing to munch on. The wet and dirty sounds fill the kitchen as Jungkook devours you, his nose presses against you and his hands spread you open wider.

You moan for him louder, “Oh, Jungkook–”

You grip the counter top for dear life and your hips rock against his face as much as his grip will allow. Jungkook alternates between licking you slow and deep, and fast suction on your clit. You’re already so close, you feel your orgasm approaching. You’re certain it’s here, but suddenly he pulls back. You let a loud and frustrated whine.

“No, Kook. Why?”

Jungkook stands on his feet behind you, licking his lips slowly. With the back of his hand, he wipes his mouth, staring at you with dark and satisfied eyes before smirking at your trembling form. You turn around and face him to smack his bare chest, hard.

“You jerk!”

Jungkook hums again, amused. He catches your wrist gently before you can smack him again. You yelp when he suddenly moves his hands to grab the backs of your thighs and lifts you off the ground. You instinctively wrap your legs around his waist before he sets you down on the cold kitchen counter. He stands between your thighs, gripping your hips to pull you closer to the edge so your bodies are flush together. You feel his hard cock against your core, straining against his pants. He rubs himself against you slowly, making you feel his erection.

It feels incredible having him grind against you like this, but it’s still not enough, especially when you’re so needy tonight. Jungkook watches your reactions the whole time, watches as your eyes flutter shut, as your mouth parts to let out shaky breaths. Even though he’s rock hard and throbbing, he’s doing his best to restrain himself. His main goal right now isn’t his release – it’s the punishment you deserve, sweet payback for the worry you put him through tonight.

“Feel that?” he asks roughly, rubbing himself harder against you, causing you to whimper.

You grip his shoulders, nails digging into his skin while trying to grind on him, chasing more pleasure. One of Jungkook’s hands grabs your thigh hard, holding you still so you’re unable to get the friction you so desperately want.

You pout at him, your lips a little swollen from the kisses earlier. “Why are you being so bad to me?” you whine, annoyed.

Your hips twitch uselessly in his grip. Jungkook huffs out a sarcastic grin that forms into a cocky smirk. You feel like slapping him, you feel like kissing him. The first option does seem more enticing at the moment.

“Me? I’m the one being bad?” he leans closer, his nose brushing against yours as his throbbing cock continues to grind against your core.

“You’re the one who’s bad, baby. Dressing the way you did, making me chase you down…”

He presses forward more firmly, letting you feel his thick length drag against your wetness. He does that a good few times, making you salivate before pulling away again. You glare at him, but before you snap again, he brings two of his fingers up to your mouth and taps your bottom lip. Your eyes stay locked on his as you part your lips and take his fingers into your mouth, twirling your tongue around them obediently, coating them with your saliva. When Jungkook pulls them free he brings them to his own mouth to lick them before dropping them down between your legs.

He rubs your swollen, wet clit making your eyes roll. Again, he alternates between slow and fast – teasing you yet again. Your hands fly to his hair, tugging on it so he can look at you.

“Jungkook. Stop teasing me.” you demand, sounding cute and whiny despite your anger.

“Stop being a brat first.” he says, rubbing harder on your clit now.

Your eyes narrow at him. “I won’t suck your dick ever again if you keep doing this.” You threaten, trying to sound serious through the shallow moans you let out.

Jungkook gives you a bored look, raising an eyebrow, obviously not bothered by the threat. You love sucking his cock just as much as he loves eating your pussy. And trust that he loves eating your pussy a hell of a lot. It’s one of the best things he spends his time doing. He obsesses over it, it’s got to be an addiction to him. So of course he knows that you will never stop sucking his cock.

“You will.” he says, simply.

Without any warning, he slides two fingers into your pussy, pumping them deep inside you. The sudden feeling makes you cry out and arch your back. He fingers you relentlessly while his thumb works on your clit. His other hand grips your neck possessively so he can leave new marks on it.

You moan loudly right near his ear and your arms wrap around his shoulders. “Kook, fuck–”

“You had me so stressed,” he growls between kisses on your neck. “So fucking angry and worried. I couldn’t even eat, baby. Just losing my mind thinking about you out there, not answering me.”

“You’re too overprotective,” you say between moans while bucking your hips to meet his fingers. “I was okay. I was–”

Jungkook’s jaw clenches. He curls his fingers hard, deep inside you, against the perfect spot.

“Jungkook!” you gasp.

“Why the fuck do you like arguing with me so much, huh?” he asks, while keeping his pace.

He fucks you good with his fingers until your walls start fluttering around him. Your moans become louder, you’re close, so so close. Jungkook pulls his fingers out completely just as you were about to come. You let out a frustrated cry.

“I was so close!”

You try to squirm away from him, but he doesn’t let you go anywhere. Instead he hoists you up and tosses you over his shoulder again. Since your bare ass is right near his face, he uses the opportunity to smack one of your ass cheeks hard. The sting makes you yelp

“You’ve been bad. You don’t get to come that easy.” he says as he walks to the bedroom, spanking you one more time.

Once in the room, he tosses you on the bed. Your body bounces on the mattress before settling. Jungkook then hovers over you, his eyes locked on yours before he leans down to bite your bottom lip and then soothe it with his tongue. Afterwards he descends downwards, his nips and licks his way down your jaw, your neck, the swell of your breasts still trapped in your dress.

You arch into him as his hands slide behind your back, finding the dress’s zipper. But he doesn’t unzip it, instead he grips the fabric and rips it straight down. The dress tears and Jungkook pulls it down, exposing you completely.

You gasp loudly and push at his shoulders. “Jungkook! Why’d you do that?! I liked that dress!”

He smirks against your collarbone, discarding the torn dress. “I’ll buy you a new one.” he promises. “I’ll buy you whatever you want if you’re a good girl.”

You want to say something, but you decide not to. You let out a shaky breath as he goes down lower, settling between your thighs again. He presses his nose right against your pussy. Inhaling your scent deeply. He groans, sending sparks through your body. He pulls back, looks up at you and spits directly onto your clit. His spit trails from your clit down to your entrance.

His thumb rubs in his saliva, spreading the wetness, combining it with your arousal.. Your eyes flutter closed and your hips twitch up toward Jungkook’s face. He leans in and sucks your clit into his mouth hungrily, making you arch off the bed. He thrusts his tongue inside your hole a few times before yet again, pulling away. You huff out in pure frustration now, but your eyes also become glassy as you stare at him.

Jungkook feels a pang of guilt. No matter how pissed off he is or how much he wants to take all his stress out on you, he never ever wants to see you cry (unless you’re choking on his cock). He’ll make you come for sure. But first he wants to get what he wants.He stands up from the bed, towering over you. 

You push yourself up into a sitting position. “You’re being an asshole.” you state.

Jungkook wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “Yeah? Yet you’re the one who had me stressed as fuck the whole night.”

You roll your eyes and stand up, looking at him. “You’re being a fucking lunatic, Jungkook! I went out once. With my girls. I didn’t think–’

He cuts you off and steps closer. “It’s not about that. You’re supposed to message me and let me know you’re okay. That’s it. At least one text so I don’t spend the night wondering if something happened to you.”

You scoff and cross your arms over your chest – the movement causing your breasts to be pushed up. For a second there’s only tense silence as both process everything. You dwell over what you’ve done, which you do realise was wrong of you. Jungkook does the same, realising that his approach to the entire situation does kind of reek of lunacy.

After a moment, Jungkook speaks lowly. “Do you want me to make you come?”

You nibble on your bottom lip, glancing at the floor before nodding, slow and shy. He looks at you with his tongue pressed into his cheek, considering something.

“Then you better get on your knees.”

The sound of his belt being unbuckled makes your eyes widen. Your eyes flick down to the movement, watching as he undoes the belt and opens his zipper. You sink down to your knees, your eyes locking on the massive bulge straining against his pants. The sight makes your mouth water. You help him push his pants and boxers down. His cock springs free, slapping against your cheek. Just looking at it makes your pussy clench. You lick your lips. Jungkook’s hand fists into your hair, tilting your head backwards so you have to look at him.

“You have a big fucking mouth, huh? Why don’t you use it for something good?”

Your lips part at his filthy question, he uses the opportunity to push his cock past your lips, filling your mouth with his thickness. He keeps a grip on your hair, guiding your head. He wants to fuck your mouth, to use your pretty lips that have been arguing with him all night. His hips thrust forward, pushing in deeper. He watches with satisfaction as your cheeks hollow and your eyes water from the stretch.

“Fuck, just like that.” he groans.

His grip in your hair tightens as he makes your head bob, sucking his cock. The sight of you completely naked on your knees with your lips stretched around his cock has his head spinning. He thinks that you’re so perfect. Even though you make him insane, you’re so perfect. You moan around his cock, the vibrations make him groan and thrust into your mouth harder. Your tongue swirls him, sucking him eagerly.

“Baby, fuck. You’re taking my cock so well. Such a good girl…” he thrusts in deeper, keeping himself there so he can feel your throat fluttering around him. 

Your hands rest on his thighs, feeling the hard muscle as you look up at him. Jungkook’s breath hitches when his eyes lock onto yours. He might just bust right now.

“You’re so beautiful.” he praises before driving his hips into your mouth harder.

Your moans vibrate around him. Saliva drips from the corners of your mouth, down your chin but you don’t care, you just suck him harder. Jungkook fucks your mouth for a while longer, he has you gagging and choking a bit. As soon as he realises he’s close, he starts guiding you again.

“That’s it. Just like that–” he murmurs.

Jungkook’s head tips back. He groans, getting closer and closer. You can feel him throbbing against your tongue. Soon enough, both his hands are holding your face against him as he comes down the back of your throat. You swallow all of it, enjoying the sounds of his curses and praises.

“Good girl, swallow it all. That’s my baby.”

For a moment, he just holds you there. His cock twitches in your mouth before he finally pulls it out. You pant, breathing hard. Jungkook wipes away your tears with his thumb before helping you up to your feet. The second you’re up, he brings you against his chest and kisses you deeply. You melt into it, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, but before you sink in too deep into the kiss, he guides you back until your knees hit the end of the bed.

You lay back on the mattress and Jungkook hovers over you, caging you with his arms on either side of your head. He leans down and kisses you sloppily before ascending down again until he reaches your breasts. He lets out an appreciative hum when he gets to your breasts. Jungkook loves them. He starts slowly kissing the swell of one of them, does the same to the other before nuzzling his face between them with a content sigh.

He squeezes them gently, kneading the flesh as he leaves kisses on them. He sucks one nipple into his mouth, twirling his tongue around it then biting down softly before soothing it with more sucks and licks. He gives the same attention to both, making sure they’re both covered in his marks.

“Love these so much. Could spend hours here.” he admits roughly. 

You moan as he focuses harder on one nipple, sucking it thoroughly while his hand travels down back to your clit to rub slow circles on it. But still, he’s teasing you. He’s not giving you what you want. You thread your fingers through his hair and pull on it so he has to look up at you.

“You’re pissing me off now, Jungkook. You’re being too cruel and petty for no reason.”

He stops his movements and lifts his head fully. “For no reason?” he repeats as a question, raising an eyebrow at you.

“Yes.” you insist.

Jungkook pushes himself up so he can hover over you properly, his eyes flash with annoyance and hurt. “Fine. Next time I’ll go out for hours with the guys, ignore every single one of your texts and let some girl be in my space. See how you like it.”

You gasp and push at his chest. “Fuck off. I didn’t do that on purpose, and the guy was gay!”

“Yeah, right. My point still stands.”

Again, before you can argue more, he cuts you off. He speaks in the raspy tone that makes your stomach flip. “You wanna keep arguing with me, or do you want me to fuck you?”

You bite your lip and look down at his hard cock then back at his face. “I want you to fuck me.” you say softly.

“That’s what I thought.”

He reaches between your bodies and lines his cock up with your entrance. He inserts the tip in before reaching under your back to make you arch up into him, pressing your chest flush to his. His other hand grabs your thigh and hooks it over his hip and back so you’re open for him. He pushes into you slowly, watching your face the entire time. You let out a breathless moan at the stretch. 

Since you’re so wet and eager from all his teasing, he slides in easier than usual. But still, his length and thickness has your eyes wanting to roll back. Once he’s completely inside you, he stops for a moment to let you adjust while trying to rein his leftover anger. He’s going to fuck you good and take out the rest of his frustration. He starts thrusting into you. He keeps his pace slow and deep for now. But you’re impatient. Your nails dig into his shoulders, urging him on.

“Faster, Kookie, please…”

He gives you what you want. He picks up his pace, slamming into you harder and harder so the sounds of your bodies meeting and your growing moans fill the room obscenely. He holds you securely while fucking you. His pace starts to become animalistic and the bed creaks beneath you both. You bring him down for a messy kiss even as you moan and whimper against his lips. Your mouths stay parted over each other’s, both panting while he fucks you.

Jungkook actually did not realise how eager he was to be inside you until now. All his teasing from earlier on has backfired. He’s feeling extremely needy and his cock throbs hard inside of you.

“Shit…I’m not gonna last.” he growls.

“Neither will I.” you say breathlessly.

Your walls clench and unclench around him as your orgasm builds fast. Jungkook thrusts harder. “Come with me.” he demands.

You both come together. You gasp his name loudly as you gush over his cock. Jungkook buries himself as deep as possible and finishes inside you with a groan. Jungkook stays buried inside you for a long moment, his cock still pulsing inside of you. Eventually, he pulls out slowly, watching your combined releases leak from your pussy. Jungkook isn’t satisfied yet though, and knowing you, you probably want another round.

“Turn around. Get on all four for me.” he says.

You look at him, searching his face. He does look pissed, his jaw is clenched and his eyebrows are furrowed. But you also notice that he also looks a bit hurt? Your chest aches with guilt. Jungkook isn’t dramatic, he doesn’t overreact unless something really bothers him. If you put yourself in his shoes, you’d feel the same frustration he does. Heck, you’d probably be worse than he is. You definitely should’ve messaged him like you said you could, you should’ve checked your phone instead of getting carried away by your friends or the music. 

You don’t say anything yet, instead you listen to what he wants. You turn and get onto your hands and knees. Jungkook kneels behind you and he delivers another hard smack to your ass. A soft whimper leaves your lips. He then presses his hand between your shoulder blades, pushing you down until your face is in the pillow and your ass is up high for him. His other hand holds his cock, still hard and wet with your combined releases, and pushes it inside you in a hard thrust. He’s deeper than before. You moan into the pillow and your fingers twist into the sheets.

“Fuck.” you whine, turning your face to the side so you can breathe.

Jungkook doesn’t give you time to adjust, he just starts fucking you immediately. His hips slam against your ass so hard causing it to recoil against him. His pace is even more animalistic than the first time as he chases the remnants of his anger. Your moans spill out uncontrollably as Jungkook pounds into you, hitting the perfect spots inside you.His hand slides into your hair, grabbing a fist full and pulling you up until your back is almost against his chest. 

While he pounds into you, he speaks near your ear hoarsely. “I’m gonna keep fucking you like this.” he promises, punctuating his words with thrusts of his hips. “Gonna fuck you until you can’t argue anymore. Gonna fuck all that stubbornness right out of you, baby. You hear me?”

You clench around his cock, feeling even more aroused at the threats. He keeps the rough pace for a very long time. He grunts when you moan his name so needily, while gripping your hips and bringing you back against him in time with his thrusts so he’s able to penetrate you deeper if possible.

“I’m so close, baby.” you whisper.

“Come. Come on my cock.” he orders

You gush over him again with a pleasant moan, feeling him bury himself deep inside you again, filling you with his come once more. He keeps fucking you after your release, making sure to fuck his come into you thoroughly.

After a moment, he pulls out and moves to sit at the edge of the bed, catching his breath. He’s sweaty, with messy hair, swollen lips and reddened shoulders. He looks so fucking good. You gaze at him, again feeling guilty for what you’ve made him feel tonight. Jungkook’s crazy about you, you should’ve also taken that into consideration.. You move over to him and wrap your arms around him from behind, pressing your cheek against his strong back.

“I’m sorry. I’m really sorry, Kookie.” you whisper softly. “I really didn’t mean to ignore your texts. My phone was on dnd and I just got carried away with the girls. I’ll never do that again, I promise.”

Jungkook stays quiet for a second, but his face soon breaks into a smile as he feels the tension leave him. He reaches back, grabs your arm gently and tugs until you move closer until he’s able to pull you onto his lap, so you’re straddling him.

He leans in and pecks your lips. “I’m sorry too. For being a little crazy and overreacting.” he says against your lips.

You smile as well. “I forgive you.”

Jungkook holds you close to him, content now that you’ve both sorted out the tension and apologised to each other. “We should take a shower, hmm?”

Before you agree, he stands up with you in his arms, you wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck. On the way to the bathroom, you both giggle against each other’s lips while trading kisses…

hiii pookies!! this was supposed to be a little drabble i had no intention of posting, but anyways..... i thought it would be like 2k-3k words at most, but not 5k words of smut💔💔 i'm so so so sick, so i'm sorry if some things just don't make sense here :( anyways, i hope you guys like this little one shot¿ oh and btw, it's heavily inspired by a ni-ki (my man my man) and sunghoon edit!!

[ggukivrse]

JUST THIS ONCE | JJK

summary. when you complain to jungkook about your lack of action in the past year, you're not really asking for a solution. but when he casually offers to help, you just can't seem to bring yourself to say no.

after all, what's the worst that could happen in hooking up just this once?

pairing: jeon jungkook x f!reader

genre: friends to lovers, smut, fluff (?)

word count: 5.1k

warnings: you’re gonna get sick of the title loll, brief alcohol consumption, this is lowkey pwp (there will be more plot soon i promise) swearing, explicit sexual content (mdni), kissing, making out, fingering, oral (m. receiving), he’s very cocky but also pathetic, multiple orgasms, lots of banter and teasing as dirty talk, petnames (baby), jk calls oc a brat x2, multiple positions, insinuated aftercare, let me know if i missed anything!

notes: you guys built this fic!! this was supposed to be out on thursday but i realised i was being wayy to ambitious cuz i definitely needed more than two days to write this loll. but alas, it’s here :3 as always, likes, comments, reblogs, feedback and asks are very appreciated! enjoy reading angels <33

ps. THERE WILL BE A PART TWO!!

⌗ masterlist. ⌗ taglist. ⌗ feedback

You fumble with your keys, swaying just slightly as you try to jab the right one into the lock. Behind you, Jungkook’s laughing under his breath, close enough that you can feel the warmth of his breath on the back of your neck.

“Need help?” he asks, the amusement in his voice unmistakable.

“I’ve got it,” you say, jabbing the key with exaggerated precision. The door finally clicks open, and you push it in with a triumphant, “Ha!”

“You’re so competent,” he deadpans, clapping a mock applause as he follows you in. His shoulder bumps yours as he passes. “It’s honestly inspiring.”

You kick off your shoes, tossing your keys into the bowl by the door. “And you’re so annoying,” you mutter, but there’s no heat in it.

Jungkook drops onto your couch like it’s his own, sprawling out like he owns the place. Which, in some ways, he kind of does.

A hoodie of his is already slung over the back of a kitchen chair, from some night two weeks ago when he stayed too late and decided not to drive home. There’s an energy drink in your fridge with his name written on the lid in Sharpie. The blanket he’s tugging over his lap? That’s the one he gifted you for Christmas, mostly so he could use it whenever he came over.

It’s always been like this.

He tosses his denim jacket on the couch as you grab two bottles of water from the fridge, chucking one to him without warning. He catches it with the ease.

“You were definitely flirting with that bartender,” he says, unscrewing the cap and looking at you with that maddeningly smug smile.

You scoff. “He had a mullet and called me ‘miss.’ It wasn’t flirting— it was survival.”

“Sure,” he says, nodding like he totally believes you. “That’s why you laughed at everything he said, even when he asked if you liked your tequila neat.”

“It was neat!” you say, defensive and laughing at the same time. “And besides, you flirted with the girl in the fishnets for, like, an hour.”

He shrugs. “Guilty. She had good taste in music. And thighs.”

You groan and flop down beside him on the couch, letting your head fall back against the cushion. Your thigh brushes his, but you don’t move. Neither does he. The buzz from the party is still warm in your blood, and the apartment feels too quiet now — too intimate without the noise and lights and other bodies.

“You ever think we’re just... really bad at dating?” you ask, staring at the ceiling.

“Constantly,” Jungkook says, without hesitation.

You glance at him. “Like, maybe we peaked in college.”

He makes a face. “Don’t say that. I refuse to believe my best years happened while I was still eating instant ramen and failing comp sci.”

You laugh, and he turns his head toward you, watching you with that soft-eyed expression you know too well. There’s something about Jungkook when he’s like this — no bravado, no teasing smirk, just... present. His hair is a mess from the wind, and a dark tank top hugs his figure.

He’s too comfortable here. Too familiar.

“I genuinely think I’ve forgotten what a good kiss feels like,” you say, mostly to the ceiling, like it’s a throwaway thought.

Jungkook hums. “That bad, huh?”

“It’s not even bad, it’s just...” You trail off, searching for the word. “Empty. Mechanical. Like everyone’s going through the motions, but nobody’s actually there.”

He shifts slightly, angling his body more toward you. “So no decent kissers at all lately?”

You shake your head. “No decent anything, if I’m honest.”

He raises an eyebrow, curious.

You hesitate, but the alcohol in your system makes it easier to say what you probably wouldn’t sober. “I haven’t slept with anyone in like... almost a year.”

Jungkook blinks, not in judgment, just surprised. “Seriously?”

“Yeah.” You rub at your temple with a laugh. “I didn’t plan it or anything. It just kind of... kept not happening. And then it became this weird streak, and now here we are.”

He’s quiet for a moment.

“Well,” he says eventually, “maybe your standards are just too high.”

“Or maybe men are just mid,” you shoot back.

That gets a laugh out of him, loud and bright. He tips his head back, and you watch his throat move as he laughs. Too long. Too hard. When he calms down, he gives you a look — something mischievous that you've grown to know too well over the years.

"What?" you ask, narrowing your eyes at him with a smile.

He shrugs. “I mean... I could help."

“With my standards?”

“With the streak.”

You snort. “What, you offering?”

“Maybe.”

You tilt your head. “So what? You wanna bang it out?”

It’s meant to be funny. You’re grinning when you say it. But when you look at him — really look — he’s not laughing.

His gaze lingers on your mouth for a beat too long. Then his eyes flick up to yours.

“Just this once?” he asks, voice low. Careful. Like he’s giving you an out.

You don’t answer right away. The room goes still. The hum of the fridge feels too loud. His eyes are still on you, and it’s not a look you’ve ever seen from him before.

Your heart stutters in your chest.

You swallow. “Wouldn't it be weird?”

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t look away.

“Only if we let it be.”

You sit there for a second, the weight of it all hitting a little too fast. Your brain’s still catching up to your mouth, to the way your body’s buzzing — not from the alcohol anymore, but from him. From the heat in his eyes, the way he said it — almost like a dare.

And then his expression shifts.

His eyes flick away, and his tongue runs over the silver ring on his bottom lip, like he’s pulling it back, reeling it in.

“Only if you want to, obviously,” he says, quieter this time. “We don’t have to.”

He starts to lean back like he's resetting the mood — like this moment can still be folded back into the safety of your usual teasing — but you stop him.

You move first.

You grab the front of his tank top — not hard, not dramatic, just enough — and you pull him in.

You kiss him.

It’s abrupt. Heat over hesitation. A split-second decision that tastes like tequila and impulse, like comfort and fuck it all wrapped up in the same breath.

At first, he doesn’t move, frozen in surprise. But then he kisses you back — really kisses you back — and suddenly you're not thinking anymore.

His hand slides to your thigh, just enough pressure to ground you, and you shift toward him instinctively, knees brushing his. His mouth moves against yours with a kind of focused laziness, like he’s savouring it. Like he’s trying to figure out exactly how you taste.

You pull back half a second, just to breathe, lips brushing his as you mutter, “Took you long enough.”

He laughs into your mouth, low and smug. “You kissed me.”

“Yeah, well. You looked like you were gonna bail.”

“I was being respectful,” he says, voice muffled against your jaw as he starts kissing along it. “But sure, let’s call it bailing.”

You gasp a little when he nips at your neck, just enough pressure to make you arch toward him. Your hands slide under his top, fingers skimming the warm skin of his back, and he shivers under your touch.

“Jesus,” you murmur. “How are you this built? You eat, like, gas station snacks and leftover noodles.”

“I work out,” he mutters between kisses, grinning as he drags his mouth back to yours. “Also, you’ve seen me shirtless.”

“Yeah, but not like this.”

“Like what?”

You tug him closer until your chest presses to his. “Like I get to touch.”

That shuts him up real quick.

He kisses you again, this time more urgently, and you feel the change in the air — less teasing, more want. Your legs shift to straddle his lap without thinking, your hands sliding up into his hair, tugging just a little.

He groans, deep and rough, biting down on your bottom lip before kissing it better. You rock your hips forward slightly and he bucks up into you with a hiss.

“You’re gonna kill me,” he mutters, hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise.

You smirk against his mouth. “You offered, remember?”

“Yeah, and I’m rapidly realising that was a dangerous choice.”

You laugh, breathless, before kissing him again. He tastes like beer and something sweeter — probably the gum he always chews. You bite his lip and feel him groan into your mouth, hips jerking beneath you.

His fingers slip under your shirt, warm on your skin. Not rushed, just exploring — like he’s been curious for a while and is finally allowed to look.

You roll your hips again, slower this time, and his head drops back against the cushion with a low fuck that makes your stomach flip.

“You still sure about this?” you ask, teasing, as your hands drag down his chest, fingers playing with the hem of his shirt.

His eyes open — dark, focused, amused.

“You gonna stop me if I say no?”

You shake your head. “Nope.”

“Then yeah,” he says, breath hitching as your fingers reach his abdomen. “I’m very sure.”

He catches your fingers before you can finish unbuttoning his jeans.

You raise a brow, breath still uneven. “Seriously?”

He nods, steady, calm in a way that only makes your pulse pound harder. “I said I was helping you, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, but I thought that was like... a mutual helping situation.”

His mouth twitches. “You always gotta argue when I’m trying to do something nice?”

You open your mouth to throw something back — something biting, something stupid — but he leans in and kisses you before you can get the words out. One hand still wrapped around your wrist, the other cupping your jaw.

He pulls back just enough to speak.

“Let me take care of you.”

You stare at him for a beat, heart kicking hard in your chest.

“Fine,” you mutter, trying to sound unbothered. “But don't expect any thank yous or shit.”

“I’ll survive,” he says, already smirking as his fingers work at your jeans. “Though, for the record, I think you’re gonna want to.”

You snort — right before he pops the button of your jeans and drags the zipper down, knuckles brushing your skin. You shiver.

“God, you’re cocky.”

He glances up, eyes flicking to yours. “You saying I haven’t earned it?”

You don’t answer. Your breath stutters when his hand slips beneath the waistband of your panties, palm flush against you.

He stills.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, voice dropping. “You’re wet already?”

“Shut up.”

He smiles cockily.

You roll your eyes — try to, anyway — but your thighs are already parting, your body moving without conscious thought. His fingers slide into you, testing the waters, and your head tips back with a soft sigh.

He watches your face like he’s waiting for something. When your mouth parts, when your hips twitch toward his hand, that’s when he moves.

His thumb finds your bud and he's gentle at first. Circling, then rubbing just a little firmer. You bite your lip hard, trying not to give him the satisfaction of the noises building in your throat.

“Still not thanking you,” you say through clenched teeth.

“Oh, you will,” he says, low. “Eventually.”

You glare at him. He grins back, fingers dragging lower, slipping in without resistance. You suck in a breath, and he laughs softly under it.

“Okay?” he asks, suddenly serious again.

You nod, maybe too quickly. “Yeah. More than okay.”

He starts moving his fingers — slow at first, too slow. Like he’s enjoying making you wait. You squirm, trying to rock your hips into his hand, but he tightens his grip on your thigh.

“Nuh-uh,” he says, eyes gleaming. “You’re letting me do the work, remember?”

“I hate you.”

“You’re literally grinding on my hand right now.”

You reach out blindly and smack his chest. He doesn’t even flinch — just slips another finger in, and your breath catches so hard it punches the air from your lungs.

“There it is,” he murmurs.

His thumb picks up a rhythm again, and the pressure starts to build fast. He knows it, too. His free hand slides around your waist, steadying you as your body starts to shake. Your fist curls into the soft fabric of his top, needing something to hold onto.

“Still hate me?” he asks, voice rougher now, his breath tickling the shell of your ear.

“Don’t flatter yourself— fuck—”

“Yeah?” His fingers curl just right, and your whole body tenses. “Right there?”

You nod, desperate, eyes squeezed shut. Your thighs are shaking. You’re so close you can’t even keep up the bit.

“Say it,” he says.

“Say what?”

“Tell me how good I make you feel.”

You groan. “Jesus, Jungkook—”

He slows down suddenly, barely moving his hand.

You whine. Actually whine.

“That’s not what I asked for.”

“God, you’re annoying,” you say, breathless.

He grins. “You're the one being the brat here.”

You drag your eyes open and glare at him, but it’s all heat now. All want. You lean in close, lips pressing against his.

"Fuck— fine. You feel so fucking good, Kook. Please, just don't stop."

He doesn’t.

He kisses you hard and fast, and his fingers start again, slick and firm and relentless. Your body clenches around him and this time, you don’t even try to hold the sounds back. His name leaves your mouth like muscle memory, and he groans into your kiss, like he’s the one coming undone.

When you break the kiss to suck in air, he presses his forehead to yours, voice rough in your ear.

“That’s it. Let go for me.”

You do.

Your body arches, thighs trembling as the orgasm washes over you sharp and fast. Your fingers dig into his back, into his top, into anything that keeps you tethered.

He doesn’t stop until you’re gasping, twitching, pushing his hand away because you’re too sensitive now.

He pulls back finally, breath warm against your skin, his fingers wet. He looks at you, gaze heavy, lips parted.

Then, without a word, he brings his fingers to your mouth.

“Open,” he says, low and steady.

You blink at him, your body still humming, brain half-melted. “What—?”

He brushes two slick fingers against your bottom lip, and your mouth parts on instinct.

“You said no thank yous,” he says, smirking. “So this’ll do.”

You glare at him, but your lips close around his fingers anyway. He watches every second — the way your mouth wraps around them, the way your tongue slides against the pads. His expression flickers from cocky to wrecked.

“Shit,” he mutters, voice rough now, the smugness cracking around the edges.

You suck once, slow and purposeful, eyes locked on his, and he jerks slightly under you — hips twitching like your mouth is on him instead. When you pull off with a soft pop, your lips are swollen and wet.

“You said mutual help,” you murmur, breath still catching on the end of every word. “It’s your turn.”

He blinks, like he’s short-circuiting.

You slide off his lap slowly, hands dragging down his chest, and his breath catches when you settle between his legs on your knees. You palm him over his jeans, and he hisses, already hard under your touch.

“Fuck,” he mutters, head tipping back.

“You okay there?” you ask, voice sweet, taunting. “Or do you need me to go slower?”

He looks down at you, pupils blown, jaw clenched. “Don’t be a brat.”

You unbutton his jeans, real slow, enjoying the way he twitches under your hands. “No promises.”

You drag the zipper down, tugging his jeans and boxers low enough to free him. He’s flushed and heavy, tip already glistening, and you swear you see his hips flex at just the sight of your mouth this close.

“Holy shit,” he breathes. “You look way too good down there.”

You wrap your hand around his cock, giving one slow stroke, and he groans like it surprises him.

You start slow. Just your hand. Thumb brushing over the sensitive ridge under the head, watching his thighs tense beneath your touch. His head drops back against the couch cushion, and you feel the way his hips subtly shift toward you, like his body’s trying to chase more without him even realising it.

You lean in and lick a slow stripe from base to tip, tongue flat, deliberate. His breath catches — then shudders out of him like you’ve knocked the air from his lungs.

“Shit,” he mutters again, voice strained.

You hum like you agree, and wrap your lips around the head, just barely. You suck, not hard — just enough to make him twitch. Your hand works in tandem, slow, steady strokes, and your mouth follows, inching lower until the tip presses against the back of your throat.

He moans, raw and wrecked. “Fuck, baby—”

The pet name is barely more than a gasp, almost like it slipped out without permission. Your stomach flips at the sound it.

His voice borders on the line of sounding pathetic, and it makes you want to press your thighs together.

You fall into rhythm — your lips sliding over him, tongue pressed firm underneath, hand twisting where your mouth leaves off. Every now and then, you let yourself get sloppy. Let the sound of it echo between you, let him hear what he’s doing to you.

He’s falling apart above you. You can tell by the way his hand flexes and releases in your hair, the way his thighs tremble every time you sink a little deeper. He’s breathing hard now, jaw slack, eyes barely open. Watching you. Like he still can’t believe this is real.

“God, your mouth—” His voice cuts off into a moan when you swallow around him, deep and slow. "You're gonna be the death of me."

You pull off just long enough to breathe, lips slick, chin wet. “You deserve it.”

He laughs, but it breaks halfway through. Your hand doesn’t stop moving.

“You like watching me fall apart, huh?”

You look up through your lashes, tongue flicking over the head. “More than a little.”

You go back down — deeper this time — and he chokes on a groan. His hips jerk up too sharply and he curses, hands fisting hard in your hair.

“Shit— I’m—” He’s panting now, thighs shaking. “I’m not gonna last if you keep— fuck, don’t—”

You suck harder, then moan around him just to hear the sound he makes. It’s almost a whimper.

“Baby, stop— wait— fuck— please—”

You pull off with a wet pop just before he tips over the edge, lips red and swollen, saliva clinging to your chin. He’s barely keeping it together. Chest heaving, flushed to the neck, cock twitching where it rests against his stomach.

“You were right there,” you say, feigning innocence, voice soft and ruined.

“Exactly," he says, sitting up. "I'm not done with you yet."

He drags the fabric of his top over his head, tossing it aside without a second thought. The moment it’s off, your breath catches.

Fuck.

He’s all golden skin and sharp lines, chest heaving, abs flexing with every breath. His tattoos curl over his shoulder and down his arm, black ink stark against flushed skin. His cock’s still hard, flushed dark, resting against his stomach, twitching when he sees the way you’re looking at him.

And you — still kneeling between his legs — can’t look away.

Then you rise, shaky but determined, and pull your top over your head, letting it fall. His eyes snap to your chest, lips parting like he’s just been punched in the gut. You're movements are purposefully slow as you pull down your jeans, then your panties.

“Jesus,” he mutters, eyes dragging down your body. “You’re a fucking dream.”

You crawl back into his lap, your bare skin meeting his, and the contact makes both of you gasp. You straddle him, knees on either side of his thighs, and he groans the moment your heat presses against his cock.

He fumbles for a condom, pulling it out from an inner pocket in the jacket he’d draped onto the couch earlier.

You watch as he tears it open and rolls it on, fingers practiced but tense. You reach between your bodies, guiding him to your entrance, and the second his tip slides against your soaked folds, his grip tightens on your hips.

“Fuck,” he mutters, voice shaking.

You sink down slowly, inch by thick inch, and your nails bite into his shoulders as you stretch around him. He’s big — your pussy gripping him tight, wet and pulsing as he fills you up. Every nerve lights up, every breath gets harder to catch.

“Holy fuck—” His head drops to your chest, groaning against your skin. “You’re so tight. So fucking warm. Gonna make me lose it.”

You whimper as you bottom out, walls fluttering around him. You can feel every vein, every twitch. It’s almost too much. Almost.

But not enough.

You start to move — slow, dragging lifts of your hips, circling them on the way back down. He watches, hands clamped on your ass, guiding the grind of your body like he already knows how to make you fall apart again.

You ride him, pace picking up fast, desperate. Every time your hips drop, the base of his cock grinds against your clit, slick sounds filling the room with every slap of skin against skin. His cock hits deep, stretching you wide, and a moan passes your lips.

He groans are low and guttural, eyes locked to where your bodies meet. “Goddamn, baby. Watching you fuck yourself on my cock— shit— never gonna forget this.”

You’re panting now, thighs burning, rhythm faltering. You try to keep going, but your legs are shaking.

He notices.

Without a word, he shifts under you, plants his feet flat on the floor, and grabs your hips tight.

“Let me help you, yeah?”

You nod. “Please.”

He starts thrusting up into you.

You cry out, spine arching, hands flying to his shoulders to hold on as he fucks you from underneath, sharp and deep. His hips snap up into you, cock pressing into your sweet spot over and over again.

The new angle is obscene. Filthy.

“Fuck, Jungkook— holy shit—”

He smirks up at you, sweaty hair sticking to his forehead. “That’s it. Take it, baby. Look at you— so cockdrunk already.”

Your pussy clenches around him, soaked and messy, and the sound of it is downright pornographic. His balls slap against your ass with every brutal thrust, and you can’t even think anymore. Just feel.

Your head falls back, hips rocking with his. “W-we’re still best friends, right, Kook?”

His rhythm stutters, hips slamming up too hard, too deep, and his jaw drops slightly like he’s not sure if he actually heard you right. His pupils are blown, face flushed, and he stares at you like you just kicked the last brain cell out of his skull.

“What the fuck,” he pants. “You can’t say that. Not when I’m— fuck— inside you.”

You whimper, walls clenching around him like your body’s reacting to how wrecked he sounds.

“That’s so fucked up,” he mutters, almost to himself. “Say it again and I might actually come on the spot.”

You huff out a weak laugh at that, hands tangling in his hair, and he groans, fucking you harder, deeper — like he needs to wipe the thought of friendship off your brain with every snap of his hips.

“Y-Yeah,” you gasp. “So close, fuck— don’t stop—”

He doesn’t. One hand slips between your bodies, fingers rubbing tight, fast circles over your clit while he pounds into you. You sob his name, hips stuttering, body locking up.

“Come on,” he grits out. “Wanna feel you squeeze me.”

That’s all it takes.

You break with a cry, body clamping down around him as your orgasm hits like a fucking freight train. Your pussy pulses around his cock, milking him, soaking him, your whole body shuddering with the force of it.

He slows just a little — just enough to let you ride it out — but he doesn’t pull out. He’s still hard inside you, jaw tight, eyes blown wide.

You collapse forward, panting into his neck, spent.

His hands slide down your spine, warm and possessive. “You good?”

You nod, still breathless. “Yeah. Jesus.”

"Good." He swiftly lifts you off him just enough to slip out, and you whimper at the sudden emptiness. But he doesn’t give you time to think.

He shifts, guiding you onto your back, his body following yours down to the couch. His hands frame your face as he settles between your legs, and when he presses back into you — thick and hard.

His eyes roam over you like he’s never seen anything more obscene or more beautiful. Your lips are swollen, parted in a messy moan. There’s a faint smudge of mascara under one eye from when you’d cried out his name, and your skin’s glowing — sweaty, flushed, wrecked.

“You’re so pretty like this,” he says, voice gone rough. “All fucked out for me.”

You pull him down into a kiss before you can think. It’s open-mouthed, greedy, teeth clashing a little. His hips start to move again, slow at first — long, deep thrusts that make your breath catch every time he bottoms out.

You wrap your legs around his waist, heels digging into his back to pull him deeper. His chest brushes yours, sticky skin against sticky skin, and your nails rake down his back.

He gasps into your mouth. “Fuck—”

“More,” you breathe, nails dragging again, leaving angry red lines down the muscle of his back. “Please.”

His hips snap harder, pace picking up again. He braces one hand beside your head and the other slides up your thigh, gripping tight enough to bruise. Your body rocks with every thrust, his cock slamming into you, the slap of his hips against yours louder now.

“You feel that?” he grits out, forehead pressed to yours, sweat dripping down his temple. “How tight you are around me? Fuck— I’m so deep, baby, you’re taking me so fucking good.”

You moan loud at his words, head falling back against the cushions.

He kisses down your neck, your collarbone, the swell of your breast — open-mouthed, wet kisses that make your skin burn. Then he’s back at your mouth, kissing you like it’s the only way he knows how to breathe.

He watches you with the kind of hunger that makes your stomach flip, watching how your brows pinch, how your mouth trembles, how you twitch around him with every stroke like you’re on the edge all over again.

And fuck, you are.

“Touch me,” you gasp, voice raw. “Kook, please—”

His fingers snake down your stomach, rubbing tight, perfect circles against your clit, synced with the rhythm of his thrusts. You cry out, thighs shaking around his waist, and he just watches — eyes dark and wild, like he can’t believe what he’s doing to you.

You clench hard around him, and he curses, slamming into you deeper, grinding at the end of each stroke.

“Gonna come again?” he pants. “Wanna come on my cock like that, baby? Let me feel you soak me?”

You’re nodding before he finishes, tears prickling in your eyes from how fucking intense it is. “Yes— yes, fuck, don’t stop—”

He kisses you as you fall apart — moaning into your mouth, swallowing every sound. You come again, whole body seizing around him. Your nails dig in, and he hisses at the pain, thrusting through it, fucking you right through the high.

When it ebbs, your body goes limp under him, chest heaving, lips swollen, slick dripping between your thighs.

Jungkook fucks into you again — slow, deep, like he’s trying to memorise the feel of you pulsing around him. His breath stutters, muscles drawn tight, every thrust rougher than the last.

“I’m not gonna last,” he pants, voice wrecked.

You bring your hands up to his hair, lightly tugging at his locks as you whisper, “Wanna feel you.”

He chokes on a moan, slamming into you one final time as he comes hard, cock twitching deep inside as he fills the condom.

His arms shake, muscles locked tight, and his face is buried in your neck as he rides it out, breath ragged, skin flushed and burning. You feel every pulse of it, every tremble in his frame, and all you can do is hold him there — legs wrapped tight around his waist, arms tangled around his shoulders, your nails still leaving stinging trails across his skin.

He presses kisses against your neck and jaw, eventually trailing up to your lips before pulling back to just look at you.

"I— you're perfect."

You smile, a familiar warmth enveloping your cheeks. "Yeah, yeah, you can stop with the flattery."

But he doesn’t smile back right away. He just watches you, quiet. Like he’s still catching up to the weight of what just happened. What’s still happening.

His hand drifts to your waist, thumb brushing lazily over your damp skin. “Let me run you a bath.”

You blink. “A bath?”

He nods, lips brushing your temple. “Yeah. You’re shaky. And I kinda wrecked you.”

You snort, catching the smugness in his voice. “What happened to, ‘Shit, baby, if you don’t stop I’m gonna come down your throat’?”

He groans, laughing. “Okay, first of all— rude. Second, I don’t sound like that.”

“Mm, you definitely do.”

He pinches your side lightly. “Keep talking, I’ll re-enact it right now.”

You shut up. But you’re smiling.

He stands a moment later, disappearing into the bathroom. You hear the water running, the soft clatter of bottles, his voice humming something low and familiar.

When he comes back, he tosses you a towel and holds out a hand, that same easy smile on his face. The one you’ve known forever. The one that makes everything feel… normal.

Even now.

You lace your fingers with his, let him pull you up.

Your legs are jelly. His hand doesn’t let go.

And as you follow him into the bathroom, skin still marked by his touch, lips still swollen from his kiss, a quiet thought flickers at the edge of your mind.

You guys were still best friends.

Right?

→ read part two here

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