Pairing: Idol!Jungkook x Doctor!Reader
Genre: Fluff, Smut, Romance, Idol AU, Established Relationship
Rating: 18+ | Minors DNI
Warnings: Explicit sexual content (slow, gentle, teasing sex, dry humping, unprotected sex [avoid IRL], nipple sucking, lots of kissing, penetration), playful teasing while love making, tooth-rotting fluff, mild work stress mention, domestic Jungkook being husband material(cause he looked so domestic and cute in that latest live)
Word Count: ~5k
[MASTERLIST]
The hospital’s fluorescent lights buzzed faintly as you pushed through the heavy glass doors. The cold night air hit your face like a slap. Your scrubs clung to your skin after what felt like the longest shift ever—twelve hours stretched into sixteen because of an emergency surgery.
Your whole body ached, but there was a small glow in your chest.
You’d saved one more life tonight.
You fumbled for your car keys, ready to just collapse into bed, when your phone buzzed in your pocket. The screen lit up with JK ❤ and instantly, your exhaustion softened into a smile.
Sliding into your car, you answered and connected it to Bluetooth. Jungkook’s voice filled the car, warm and familiar, wrapping around you like a blanket.
“Baby, you’re leaving late again?” His tone was gentle, but you could hear the worry underneath.
“Yeah,” you sighed, starting the engine.
“Emergency surgery came up. But don’t worry, it’s my day off tomorrow. I’ll rest.”
He huffed, and you could almost see him pouting, his dark hair falling into his eyes as he leaned back at home.
“Take care of yourself too, baby. Promise me you’ll call once you get home. Or better—stay on call with me until you reach.”
You chuckled softly.
“Kook, it’s okay. I’ll text you when I reach.” You merged onto the empty highway, city lights blurring past. “What's my superstar doing anyway?”
“I just got home,” he said, his voice shifting as though he was kicking his shoes off. “Might work out for a bit, then shower. But I’m not hanging up till you reach home. No arguments.”
Your heart fluttered at his stubborn sweetness. “Stubborn.”
“Only for you,” he teased, and you could practically see his grin.
The empty road stretched out ahead of you, streetlights glowing softly. Jungkook started humming—a tune you didn’t recognize.
Probably something new he’d been working on.
His voice, smooth and tender, filled the quiet car. It made your chest feel warm, but it also made your eyelids feel heavy.
“Don’t you dare fall asleep while driving to my voice,” he suddenly scolded playfully, his tone deep enough to send goosebumps over your skin.
“I know you love when I sing you to sleep, but not tonight, baby.”
You laughed, gripping the wheel tighter. “I’m not falling asleep. It’s just… distracting.”
“Good distracting or bad distracting?” His voice was soft, teasing.
“The kind that makes me want to pull over at your apartment and kiss you till you can't breath,” you mumbled under your breath.
He laughed, low and throaty, the sound making your cheeks burn.
“Save that energy for tomorrow, doctor. Sleep well tonight… I’ll think about you while I do push-ups.” His voice dipped, playful and cheeky.
“Actually, I’ll think about you under me while I do them.”
Your eyes widened as your face grew hot.
“Jungkook!” you squeaked, nearly swerving into the next lane.
His laugh exploded through the speaker, unashamed and loud.
“I love how flustered you get,” he teased.
Finally pulling into your apartment lot, you sighed, both exasperated and smiling. “I’m home, you menace. Go do your workout.”
“Mm. Fine. But call me if you need me, okay?” His voice turned soft again, full of quiet love.
“I will,” you whispered before hanging up.
The silence in the car felt heavier without his voice.
But the thought of him waiting for you, caring for you, stayed warm in your heart. You dragged yourself to your apartment and collapsed into bed, after changing into your sleep shirt.
Jungkook woke up just as the first light of dawn slipped through his blinds. His bed was warm, but it felt strangely empty without you beside him.
He lay there for a moment, staring at the ceiling, the memory of your tired voice from last night replaying in his head. You must’ve collapsed into bed the second you got home. The thought of you curled up in your bed, hair messy, it made his chest ache with love.
He smiled to himself, that softened every corner of his face.
He wanted to see you.
More than that, he wanted to take care of you, the way you always took care of everyone else. You saved lives every day, but who made sure you ate, rested, and felt safe?
That responsibility was his, and he wanted it with all his heart.
With that thought, he rolled out of bed, his feet touching the cool wooden floor.
In the bathroom, the hot shower steamed up the mirror as he ran shampoo through his hair, humming the same melody he’d hummed for you over the phone last night.
His mind was full of you—your laugh, your sleepy voice, the way you’d scolded him for teasing. By the time he towelled off, hair damp and sticking to his forehead, he’d already planned his morning.
He was going to spend the day making you feel loved.
He threw on a simple black shirt and grey sweatpants, grabbed his keys, and drove through the quiet streets, the morning sky painted in pale blues and soft pinks.
The city was just waking up, but his excitement built with every passing minute he was near your apartment.
He slipped into your apartment, using the spare key you gave him months ago.
The silence inside was peaceful.
He set his bag by the door, kicked off his sneakers, and padded softly toward your bedroom. The sight that greeted him stopped him in his tracks.
You were sprawled across the bed, tangled in the blanket, one leg sticking out, hair a messy halo around your pillow. Your lips parted slightly as you breathed, and a faint crease still lingered between your brows.
Jungkook’s heart swelled, his chest tight.
You were so beautiful.
Not the polished, perfect kind of beauty, but the real kind—the one that made him want to kneel beside you and stay there forever.
He leaned quietly against the doorframe, just watching you.
The gentle rise and fall of your chest. The way your fingers curled loosely around the blanket’s edge. The little sigh you let out, making your nose scrunch in the cutest way. He wanted to kiss every inch of your tired face until you woke up smiling.
He walked closer, moving carefully, not wanting to wake you.
His hand reached out, brushing a strand of hair away from your cheek. You murmured something in your sleep and turned slightly, and Jungkook bit back a laugh.
He leaned down, pressing the softest kiss to your forehead, lingering there as he whispered, “Rest well, angel. You’ve done enough for the world. Let me take care of you now.”
He tucked the blanket snugly around your shoulders before standing, careful not to make a sound.
Instead of crawling in beside you, he busied himself.
He gathered the pile of laundry, folding each piece neatly.
He smiled when he came across the oversized hoodie you’d stolen from him—it still smelled faintly of his cologne, and the thought of you snuggling into it made his chest feel warm.
Next, he watered your plants, crouching down to check the little succulent he’d gifted you months ago. Seeing it thrive made him oddly proud, like he had a piece of himself rooted in your home.
After that, he tidied the living room, stacking your medical journals neatly, wiping down the coffee table, and fluffing the pillows on the couch. The faint scent of lemon cleaner began to fill the apartment, mixing with the soft morning air.
The apartment slowly came alive under his care—brighter, warmer, more like a shared home than just yours.
Jungkook looked around, chest heavy with something tender.
He wanted this every day. Morning chores, quiet moments, laughter echoing through these walls.
Not just visits, not just sleepovers—he wanted a life with you.
And as he glanced back toward your room, hearing your soft breathing, he thought, someday.
He moved into the kitchen, already thinking about what to cook, already imagining the smile on your face when you woke up to find him there, waiting just for you.
You woke to soft clattering and the delicious smell of garlic, herbs, and butter drifting into your dreams. Your body was still heavy from yesterday’s long shift, but curiosity tugged you out of bed.
Your feet padded against the cool floor as you shuffled toward the kitchen, hair sticking out in every direction, your oversized sleep shirt hanging off one shoulder.
You rubbed your eyes, still half-asleep, until you saw him.
Jungkook stood at the stove, hair still damp from his shower, a fitted black shirt stretching over his back and shoulders, grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips. He was stirring something in a pan, humming under his breath, like this was his own home and he’d been doing this forever.
The sight alone made your heart flip so hard it almost hurt.
You didn’t even think.
You just walked up and slipped your arms around his waist from behind, pressing your cheek against his back. His body went still for a moment, then he melted, a low chuckle vibrating through him. He reached down to gently squeeze your hand where it rested against his stomach.
“Good morning,” he murmured, his voice still rough and warm, making your knees go weak.
“When did you get here?” you mumbled against his shirt, your words muffled by the soft fabric.
He reached down to turn the heat low before glancing over his shoulder. His bunny smile—bright, dimpled, and entirely yours, made your knees weak.
“Around seven. You were sleeping so deeply I didn’t have the heart to wake you. You looked too beautiful to disturb.”
Your arms tightened instinctively, hugging him closer before you finally let go and dragged yourself to the counter stool. You propped your chin in your hand, yawning as you stared at him dreamily.
He moved around the kitchen with such ease, stirring the veggies, tossing in herbs, the muscles in his arms flexing with every motion.
“What are you cooking?” you asked, your voice still thick with sleep.
“Pasta,” he answered simply, glancing at you with that proud sparkle in his eyes.
“Your favourite... Comfort food. And before you say anything, yes, I already put your laundry in the wash. And yes, I watered the plants. So the only thing on your to-do list today is… me.”
You blinked at him, your heart practically swelling out of your chest. “You’re… unfair.”
“Unfairly perfect?” he teased, winking.
You couldn’t stop your smile.
Your eyes trailed over him shamelessly—the way his shirt hugged his arms, the soft curve of his back, the casual way he owned the space.
He caught you staring, of course, and smirked.
“Like what you see, doctor?”
You didn’t even bother denying it. “It’s my kitchen. I can stare as much as I want.”
He laughed, shaking his head in disbelief, before leaning against the counter, arms folded as if he were posing on purpose now. “You gonna sit there drooling, or are you gonna make us some coffee?”
You rolled your eyes but stood, muttering under your breath, “Bossy…”
Still, your smile gave you away.
“You’re lucky you’re this cute.”
“And you’re lucky I can cook,” he shot back without missing a beat, tossing a dish towel at you. You caught it clumsily, laughing, your cheeks aching from how much you were smiling.
The moment felt light, perfect, like a dream where nothing else existed except the two of you.
As he stirred the pasta one last time, you poured the coffee into mugs, the scent filling the air and mixing with the buttery garlic smell of his cooking.
The moment was filled with soft touches, quick glances, easy laughter.
Finally, Jungkook plated the pasta and set it down on your tiny kitchen table. He pulled out a chair for you, leaning down to press a soft kiss against your temple before sitting across from you.
The first bite melted on your tongue, creamy and warm, and you closed your eyes with a content sigh.
“This is so good,” you mumbled around your fork.
Jungkook’s grin widened, boyish and proud.
“Of course it is. It’s made with love.” He wiggled his eyebrows dramatically, making you laugh so hard you nearly choked.
His eyes softened as he watched you eat.
“I knew it,” he said softly, more to himself than you. “This is exactly where I want to be. Cooking for you, making you smile like that.”
Your fork stilled, heart thudding wildly.
You met his gaze, and the love shining in his eyes made the whole world outside disappear.
Right here, right now—it was just you and him.
After breakfast, you and Jungkook settled onto the couch, the sun spilling warm golden light through the curtains and painting the room in a lazy glow.
Your legs draped over his lap as you took the last sip of coffee, savoring the warmth. For the first time in weeks, the tight knot of exhaustion that had been following you everywhere felt a little lighter.
Your shoulders ached from hours in the OR, and as you rolled them, a small wince escaped you.
Jungkook’s hands were immediately on you, his brows knitting in concern. “Sore?”
“C’mere,” he murmured, patting the space on his lap.
You shifted, leaning back so your head rested against his chest, and he settled behind you. His hands found your shoulders, kneading gently but firmly, coaxing the tightness from your muscles.
You let out a long, contented sigh, eyes fluttering closed.
“God… that feels so good,” you whispered, letting your head sink further into him.
His chuckle was soft, full of warmth, and his breath tickled your ear. “I’m so proud of you, baby. Every single day, you save lives… and you do it all without even complaining. You’re incredible.”
The words hit you harder than you expected.
All the stress, the long nights, the endless pressure—he saw it.
He saw you.
A lump formed in your throat, and your chest tightened in that delicious, achy way that only happened when you felt truly loved. “Thank you, Kook,” you murmured, voice small, soft.
His hands didn’t just massage—they lingered, exploring the tense curves of your shoulders, easing knots you didn’t even realize you were holding.
And as his thumbs traced further, brushing the base of your neck, a different heat began to bloom, soft but insistent. Your sighs slipped into quiet, soft moans, betraying the pleasure building under his touch.
“Oh?” he said, his voice dropping low, teasing, smug.
“That doesn’t sound like pain relief anymore, baby.”
Your cheeks flushed, embarrassment and desire mixing as you tried to deny it. “Shut up,” you murmured, but there was no bite in it, only breathless laughter.
He leaned closer, lips brushing your ear, sending shivers down your spine.
“Make me,” he whispered.
And you did.
In one fluid motion, you turned around and straddled his lap, pressing yourself against him and crashing your lips to his before he could tease again.
The kiss was desperate, hungry, full of every suppressed longing from the night before, and he responded immediately.
His hands slid around your waist, pulling you impossibly close, grounding you against him, his laugh vibrating through the kiss—muffled, delighted, and full of love.
When you pulled back for air, his eyes were dark, sparkling with mischief and affection all at once. “Feisty,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over your jaw. “Missed me that much, huh?”
You glared playfully, lips still swollen from the kiss. “You’re insufferable,” you said, voice soft but teasing.
He just grinned, as if he’d won, and you knew he had—but somehow, it didn’t matter. Here, in this warm golden morning, wrapped up together on the couch, it felt perfect.
He leaned closer, lips brushing your ear. “I could do this all day…”
You wriggled slightly, trying to catch a breath, and he leaned back just enough to trace the curve of your jaw with his thumb, catching your lips with his own again.
This time, the kiss wasn’t rushed—it was slow, teasing, filled with unspoken words and longing. Every press of his lips against yours made the heat build between your legs, your fingers tangling in his damp hair.
He pulled back just enough to smirk at you, eyes dark and gleaming with mischief. “You’re so needy,” he teased, though the way he held you said he loved it.
You bit your lip, closing your eyes, letting the warmth of him envelope you.
“You’re impossible,” you murmured, though your body pressed eagerly into his.
“And you love it,” he countered, hands holding you firmly against him now, thumbs rubbing circles along your sides.
A shiver ran through you at his words, and instinctively you shifted, straddling him fully this time, facing him, fingers tracing the line of his jaw as he leaned into you.
His hands gripped your hips possessively, holding you close, teasing, loving.
The air between you felt heavy, charged with something you couldn’t ignore. You stayed in his lap, your knees on either side of him, hands resting on his strong shoulders.
Jungkook’s eyes roamed over you slowly, like he was memorizing every detail. His gaze caught where your sleep shirt had slipped off one shoulder, exposing the curve of your collarbone, and his lips parted slightly like he wanted to kiss you there.
His hands slid up your sides, warm and careful, fingers moving slowly like he wanted to savour every inch of you.
The touch was gentle but set your skin on fire, making a shiver race down your spine.
“Careful, baby,” Jungkook murmured, his voice low and rough, eyes meeting yours with that playful glint that always made your knees weak.
“The way you’re moving on me like this? I don’t think I’ll be able to hold back much longer.”
You froze for a second, realizing what you’d been doing—subtly rolling your hips against him, chasing the friction without even meaning to.
The blush crept up your cheeks, but instead of pulling away, you pressed yourself closer, rocking against him more deliberately this time.
His breath caught, sharp and shaky, and his hands gripped your hips harder. His eyes darkened with a hunger that sent a wave of heat through you.
“Oh, baby,” he groaned, a smirk tugging at his lips even as his voice shook, “you’re playing with fire. You know exactly what that does to me.”
“Maybe I do,” you whispered, your voice breathless.
You rocked against him again, feeling his growing hardness under you, and your body trembled with the thrill of it.
“Fuck,” he hissed, his head tilting back slightly, throat bobbing as he swallowed hard. His jaw clenched as if he was trying to stay in control, but his body betrayed him—his hips pressed up into yours, meeting your rhythm. “Keep doing that, and I’m done for.”
Your lips curved in a daring smile as you leaned in, brushing your mouth over the side of his neck.
His skin was warm, his pulse racing under your lips.
“Then lose it,” you whispered, your teeth grazing his earlobe gently before nipping at it.
A low moan escaped him, raw and unguarded.
His hands slid under your sleep shirt, palms warm against your bare waist, fingers spreading wide as if he couldn’t get enough of your skin. The touch made you gasp softly, arching into him.
“You’re driving me crazy,” he muttered, voice rough, though the way he looked at you was full of nothing but love.
His hands tugged lightly at the hem of your shirt, silently asking.
You lifted your arms, letting him pull it off easily, leaving you bare in front of him.
His eyes softened and darkened all at once as he looked at you, lingering over your chest, your skin, every detail of you.
“God… you’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his voice full of awe, like he couldn’t believe you were his.
Your chest tightened at the sincerity in his words, warmth blooming inside you.
You reached for his shirt quickly, needing him just as much.
Your fingers fumbled with the hem, and he chuckled softly, helping you peel it off. The sight of him—warm skin, tattoos curling over his arm and shoulder, muscles flexing as he moved, stole your breath.
You ran your hands over his skin, savouring the warmth, the way his muscles tensed under your touch.
He groaned softly, hands returning to your hips as you ground down again, the friction more intense now without the barrier of your shirts.
Jungkook’s lips brushed against your neck, featherlight at first, like he was testing how much you could take. Then his kisses grew deeper, hungrier, his tongue flicking against your skin in slow, teasing strokes.
“You taste so good,” he whispered, his breath warm as it fanned over your collarbone. He nipped gently, making you gasp, and your fingers instinctively tangled in his messy hair, holding him closer.
Every kiss felt like fire.
His mouth moved lower, trailing over your chest until he reached the soft swell of your breasts. He looked up at you briefly, eyes dark and full of love, before taking one nipple into his mouth.
The gentle suck and swirl of his tongue made you arch into him, a needy whimper slipping past your lips.
“K-Kook,” you breathed, your voice shaky, overwhelmed by the heat building inside you.
He hummed against your skin, the vibrations shooting straight through you, making you squirm in his lap. He pulled back for a moment, lips glistening, and smiled softly at your flushed face.
“I love hearing you like this,” he said, voice low but full of awe.
He leaned in again, giving the other nipple the same attention, slower this time, almost worshipful.
Then his kisses trailed back up to your neck, lingering against your pulse as he whispered, “You’re so perfect. So fucking perfect, baby.”
Your chest ached with how much love filled his words, but before you could say anything back, he shifted.
In one smooth motion, he laid you down on the couch, his body pressing you into the cushions. The weight of him above you felt grounding, comforting, like you were safe in his hold.
His strong thighs bracketed your hips as he hovered over you, his gaze locked onto yours.
“Tell me what you want,” he murmured, lips brushing yours but not kissing, his teasing making your heart race.
“You,” you gasped, desperation breaking through as your hands tugged at the waistband of his sweatpants.
“Want you, Kook. Only you.”
He groaned, low and filthy, helping you push his pants down and kick them off. You were both frantic now, hands and mouths everywhere, the room filled with gasps and his low moans.
He slid your shorts off, leaving you bare beneath him.
When his fingers slid between your thighs, he found you already wet, and he cursed softly, his voice rough.
“Fuck, baby… you’re so ready for me.”
You pulled him closer, kissing him hard as he pressed himself against you, the tip of him teasing your entrance.
“Please,” you whispered, voice breaking with need, your eyes pleading with his. He smiled softly against your lips, brushing his thumb over your cheek.
“Patience, love,” he teased, but the tenderness in his eyes gave him away—he wanted you just as much.
Then he kissed you deeply as he slowly pushed inside, inch by inch.
The stretch made you moan, nails digging into his shoulders as your body adjusted to him.
He buried himself fully, stilling once, letting you adjust.
His forehead rested against yours, his breath uneven, his voice shaking as he asked, “You okay, baby?”
Your eyes met his, and even through the haze of pleasure, your heart swelled. You cupped his face, smiling through your heavy breaths.
“More than okay,” you whispered.
“You feel so good… always so good.”
He gave you that boyish grin, the one that always melted your heart, and kissed you slowly, sweetly, like he had all the time in the world.
“You’re gonna make me blush, doc,” he whispered against your lips, teasing even as he started to move inside you with slow, steady thrusts that made your breath catch.
“Fuck, you feel so tight.”
“Keep talking like that, and I’ll really make you blush,” you whispered back, your voice shaky but playful.
He chuckled, the sound low and warm, and the vibration of it seemed to sink straight into your chest. Then his hips rolled again, deeper this time, making you gasp, your arms tightening around his shoulders.
“Oh, baby,” he murmured, lips brushing your ear, his breath hot and shaky. “I’m only getting started. Gonna make you feel every little second of this.”
You wrapped your legs tighter around his waist, desperate for him, pulling him even closer.
The movement made him groan, the sound raw and needy.
He started thrusting a little harder, his control slipping, and you laughed breathlessly.
“You’re so clingy,” he teased between kisses along your neck, though his voice carried so much affection it almost broke you. “Love when you’re like this… holding onto me like you’ll never let go.”
You smirked, whispering back, “Because... I won’t.”
That earned you another deep thrust that made you whimper, and he grinned against your skin.
“God, you’re dangerous,” he muttered, kissing down your throat, nipping lightly just to hear your soft gasp. “Say things like that, and I’ll never let you off this couch.”
His words made you giggle even as your body shivered under him.
“Maybe that’s what I want,” you teased, rocking your hips up to meet his.
“Oh, I know it is,” he said, pulling back to look into your eyes.
His gaze was soft and burning all at once, like he was teasing but also worshipping you. His hand slid down your side, gripping your thigh to pull it higher around his waist.
“You’re greedy for me, baby. Can feel it.”
“Only for you,” you whispered, brushing your lips against his.
His expression softened instantly, his smirk melting into something tender.
“Fuck, you’re gonna ruin me,” he said, almost like a confession. His hips never stopped moving, dragging against you in that perfect rhythm, every thrust pulling another moan from your throat.
“Now... Shut up and kiss me,” you demanded softly, tugging at his hair. And he did—his mouth crashing against yours in a messy, hungry kiss that stole your breath.
“I love you,” he whispered suddenly, voice breaking with honesty as his forehead rested against yours. “God, I love you. Love the way you feel, love the way you sound… you’re mine.”
“Yours,” you gasped, the word slipping out without thought, your heart racing.
His dark eyes softened, but his smirk stayed as he slowed his thrust, deep and deliberate, making you cry out.
“Say it again,” he urged, his voice low and certain.
“Yours, Kook,” you whimpered, clutching his back so tight your nails dug into his skin.
“That’s my girl,” he whispered, kissing you sweetly, his lips brushing your cheek, your jaw, your neck. “You’re perfect for me… I could stay inside you forever.”
“Keep going,” you begged, trying to be playful through the shakiness in your voice.
“But maybe a little faster?”
He laughed against your lips, biting at your bottom one gently.
“Bossy doctor,” he teased, but he gave in, moving just a little faster, just enough to make your moans spill out louder, filling the quiet room.
“That’s it,” you gasped, your body trembling, your nails clawing at his shoulders. “Fuck, right there.”
“Love making you feel good,” he whispered, every word soaked with love as he kissed your jaw. “It’s my favorite thing in the world.”
The world seemed to fade, leaving just you and him—moans, soft laughter, whispered “I love yous” mingling in the air. His thrusts stayed steady, loving, playful even as the pleasure built higher and higher.
And when you finally came undone together, tangled in each other’s arms, it felt less like an ending and more like a promise.
When it ended, you were both breathless, tangled on the couch.
Jungkook pulled you against his chest, grabbing the blanket from the couch’s back and draping it over you both. His fingers traced lazy patterns on your back, and you nuzzled into him, exhausted but content.
As you shifted closer, you noticed the faint red marks your nails had left on his shoulders and chest, along with a scattering of hickeys blooming across his skin.
The sight made you giggle softly, a mix of pride and embarrassment warming your cheeks. Jungkook caught your gaze and glanced down at himself.
“Fuck, baby, look at this!” he exclaimed, pointing at a particularly dark mark on his chest.
His eyes widened comically, and he pouted in that way that always made your heart melt. “My hyungs are gonna tease me so badly. You’re turning me into a walking art project! How am I supposed to go to practice looking like I got attacked?”
You laughed, reaching up to brush a fingertip over one of the marks.
“Oops,” you said, mock-innocent, though you weren’t sorry at all. “Guess I got carried away.”
“Carried away?” he repeated, raising an eyebrow, a grin tugging at his lips.
“You’re impossible, doc. I’m gonna have to wear a turtleneck in this heat, and Jimin-hyung will never let me live it down.”
“Tell him you’re just really loved,” you teased, pressing a soft kiss to one of the marks on his shoulder. He groaned dramatically, but his arms tightened around you, pulling you even closer.
“Really loved, huh?” he murmured, his pout softening into a tender smile as he pressed a gentle kiss to your temple. “Fine… I’ll take all the teasing if it means I get to keep you like this.”
You smiled, nuzzling deeper into his chest, the blanket cocooning you in a warm bubble where the world outside didn’t exist.
“Work day off means Boyfriend day on,” he murmured softly, his voice low and playful. “And today, my only job is making sure you rest, baby. Making sure you feel loved.”
You laughed softly, voice muffled against his skin.
“You’re way too good to me, Kook.”
“Only because you deserve it,” he replied, fingers brushing gently through your hair, tracing soothing circles that made your lids droop with comfort.
The rest of the day unfolded in quiet, domestic bliss.
Simple things—a shared breakfast, soft kisses, his hands never leaving you, made everything feel magical. He moved through your apartment like he belonged, tidying little things, laughing with you, stealing quick kisses whenever your eyes met.
That night, curled against him, his steady heartbeat pressing against your ear, you felt the kind of peace that didn’t come often because of your busy schedules.
Warm, safe, and completely loved.
You realized, with a smile that softened your tired face, that this was what love truly felt like—messy, chaotic, comforting, and entirely, utterly yours.
A/n: Lol, my single ass really need a boyfriend like him 😭 or is it because it's just my ovulation phase going on currently?
Disclaimer: The following fics feature a consensual polyamorous relationship. If that’s not your cup of tea, feel free to skip! 💜
[Sinful Sounds - Rapline x Reader]
[No Subtitles in Bed - Jungkook x Reader x Namjoon]
[House Rules - Jungkook x Reader x Jin]
[Posses the Queen - Jimin x Reader x Jungkook]
[Kings of Ash and Desire - Yoongi x Reader x Namjoon]
[Caught in the Act - Yoongi x Reader x Jungkook]
[The Art of Seduction - Yoongi x Reader x Seokjin]
[Roadside Temptation - Yoongi x Reader x Hoseok]
Pairing: Cafe_Owner!Jungkook x Reader
Genre: Healing, Overwhelm/Burnout Themes, Slice of life, Romance, Smut, Fluff, Strangers-to-Friends-to-Lovers, Slow-Burn, Countryside life
Rating: 18+ | Minors DNI
Warnings: Overwhelm/Burnout Themes, Healing, Fear of losing, Feeling of insecurity, Explicit sexual content [make out in waterfall-pool, lots of kissing, oral f receiving, unprotected sex (refrain IRL)], Body worship, emotional intimacy, emotional love making
Word Count: ~12k
[Epilogue] - WIP
[MASTERLIST]
The old wooden gate creaked as you pushed it open, dragging your suitcase behind you. The countryside air smelled of salt, pine, and wet earth.
It was quieter here.
Too quiet.
Your mind, however, was still loud... replaying arguments, harsh words, and the suffocating pressure of Seoul that had finally broken you.
Your grandma was already waiting on the porch, her silver hair tied in a neat bun, a warm shawl draped over her shoulders.
“Halmeoni…” Your voice came out smaller than you expected.
She didn’t say anything at first. She just walked down the steps and pulled you into a tight hug.
You felt your shoulders tremble.
“You don’t have to handle everything alone, my dear,” she whispered, rubbing your back. “You can come to me anytime you want. And now you’re here. That’s enough for today.”
You swallowed hard. “I just… needed to leave. Everything felt too heavy.”
“I know, I know.” She cupped your face gently. “No explanations needed right now. Come inside. I made your favourite tea.”
Later that evening, your grandma insisted on taking you for a short walk to get some sea air.
You reluctantly agreed.
The seaside café came into view, a charming wooden structure with fairy lights strung along the railing and tables scattered on the sand facing the waves.
A big handwritten board outside read: JK's Little Haven ~ Coffee, Food & Good Vibes.
A tall, energetic guy was laughing loudly with a group of locals. His dark hair was slightly messy from the sea breeze, sleeves rolled up, and a bright smile that seemed to light up the entire patio.
Your grandma waved enthusiastically. “Jungkook-ah!”
The man turned, his eyes crinkling with warmth the moment he saw her. “Halmeoni…! You came!” He jogged over and gave her a gentle hug. Then his gaze shifted to you.
“And who’s this beautiful guest?” he asked, flashing you a dazzling smile.
Your grandma beamed. “This is my granddaughter. She just arrived from Seoul today.”
Jungkook’s eyes sparkled with genuine interest. “Seoul? Wow. Welcome to our little paradise! I’m Jungkook, owner of this café. Best coffee on this coast, I promise.”
He extended his hand.
You looked at his hand for a second, then shook it briefly, your grip limp.
“Hi,” you said flatly.
He didn’t seem discouraged at all. “First time in the countryside?”
“Yeah...”
“Must be a big change from the city, huh? The air feels different, right? Like your lungs can finally breathe.”
You gave a small nod, avoiding eye contact. “It’s… quiet.”
Jungkook chuckled softly. “Quiet is good sometimes. But if it gets too quiet, just come here. I can be as loud as you want.” He winked playfully.
Your grandma laughed. “See? This boy is full of energy. He brings sunshine wherever he goes.”
You forced a small, polite smile but didn’t reply.
Jungkook tilted his head, still smiling. “Would you like something to drink? On the house for Halmeoni’s granddaughter. I just made fresh lemonade with mint from my backyard. Or maybe iced americano if you’re a Seoul girl through and through?”
“I’m fine,” you replied softly, almost curt. “Thank you.”
He nodded, unfazed. “No pressure at all. But the offer stays open anytime. I’m here every day.”
As you and your grandma turned to leave, he called out cheerfully, “Come back soon! And Halmeoni, tell me if you need help with the leaking tap again!”
The next morning, you sat on the porch with a book you weren’t really reading. From a distance, you could see Jungkook near the town square.
An old lady was struggling with heavy grocery bags.
Jungkook immediately ran over.
“Imo! Why didn’t you call me?” he scolded gently, taking all the bags from her. “These are too heavy for you.”
“Aigoo, Jungkook-ah, you’re always so busy…”
“Never too busy for you,” he said with a grin. “Let’s go, I’ll carry them home and fix that broken shelf you told me about yesterday.”
You watched as he walked with her, chatting animatedly the whole way, making her laugh.
Next day, you noticed him again. He was on his knees fixing a bicycle for a group of kids. Their laughter echoed across the street as he made silly faces while tightening the chain.
“Hyung, you’re the coolest!” one boy shouted.
Jungkook ruffled his hair. “Only because I have the coolest kids in town. Now, who wants to race me on their bikes later?”
Your grandma appeared beside you with tea.
“He’s a good boy,” she said softly.
“That Jungkook… he helps everyone. Lost his own parents young, but instead of becoming bitter, he decided to become everyone’s son.” She sighed happily. “He would bring sunshine into anyone’s life.”
You stared at your tea. “He seems… too loud and chaotic.”
Grandma chuckled. “Or maybe you’ve been judging him too soon... without knowing him properly.”
You didn’t reply.
Few days later, you wandered into the café alone, mostly because your grandma had gently pushed you out, saying you couldn’t stay locked inside forever.
Jungkook was behind the counter, humming while wiping glasses. The moment he saw you, his whole face lit up.
“Hey! You came!” He leaned forward excitedly. “I was starting to think I scared you away with my charm.”
You sat at the counter, keeping your expression neutral. “Just… needed a change of scenery.”
“Understandable. City girl in the countryside.” He grinned. “So, what can I get you? Lemonade? Coffee? I made a strawberry cake too. Fresh strawberries from the farm nearby.”
“Just regular coffee. Black. No sugar.”
“Coming right up!” He moved efficiently, but kept talking. “You know, most people who come from Seoul say they hate it here for the first week. Then they never want to leave. Something about the sea and the slow life.”
You watched him pour the coffee. “I’m not most people.”
He slid the mug toward you with a soft smile. “Good. I like that.”
He paused, then added gently, “If you ever feel like talking… or even if you don’t and just want to sit here quietly, the seat is always open. No pressure.”
You looked up at him for the first time properly. His eyes were kind. Annoyingly kind.
“…Thanks,” you mumbled.
He smiled again, that bright, warm smile that refused to dim even when he faced with your coldness. “Anytime.”
You told yourself you were only returning to the café for the coffee.
Not for him.
Yet here you were, on your fourth visit in five days, sitting at the corner table near the window.
Jungkook spotted you instantly. His smile stretched wide as he wiped his hands on his apron and walked over.
“Well, well… look who decided to grace my humble café again,” he teased, leaning one hip against the table. “Four times in five days. Should I be worried or flattered?”
You glanced up at him dryly. “Don’t flatter yourself. Your coffee is decent. That’s it.”
“Decent?” He clutched his chest dramatically. “You wound me. I make the best coffee on this coast and you call it decent?”
You fought back a smile. “It’s acceptable. Barely.”
He grinned, clearly enjoying this. “Acceptable. I’ll take it. So… same as usual? Black coffee, no sugar, extra cold heart on the side?”
You raised an eyebrow. “You’re annoying.”
“And yet you keep coming back here... for the coffee... mostly,” he shot back playfully, winking before heading to the counter.
Two days later, you showed up again in the late afternoon when the café was almost empty. Jungkook was stacking cups when you approached the counter.
You took a deep breath. “Do you need any help here? Like... got any openings?”
He froze mid-motion, then slowly turned around, trying but failing to look casual.
“Help… like… a job?” His voice was steady, but his eyes were sparkling with excitement.
“Yeah. I can’t just sit at home all day. I’ll go crazy. I can make coffee, clean, serve tables… whatever you need.”
Jungkook leaned on the counter, pretending to think seriously.
He pulled out a notepad and pen like this was a real interview. “Alright, Miss Seoul. Let’s do this properly. Name?”
You stared at him. “You already know my name.”
“Formalities matter,” he said smugly. “Name?”
You sighed. “...Y/n.”
“Age?”
“You don’t need my age.”
“Wrong answer. I need to know if you’re old enough to handle my chaotic energy,” he teased.
“I’m old enough to handle you just fine,” you replied sarcastically.
Jungkook’s eyebrows shot up, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “Oh? Bold. I like it.” He scribbled something dramatically. “Previous experience?”
“Worked part-time at cafés during college. I can handle rush hours.”
“Impressive. Reason for wanting to work here?” He looked at you with soft, curious eyes now.
You shrugged. “I need something to do. And… your café isn’t terrible.”
“Not terrible,” he repeated, laughing. “High praise. You’re hired.”
You blinked. “That’s it? You need anything else?”
“Nope.” He grinned brightly and extended his hand. “Welcome to the team, partner. Start tomorrow morning?”
You shook his hand. His palm was warm and calloused. “Don’t make me regret this.”
“Too late,” he said cheekily. “You’re stuck with me now.”
“Table 3 is waiting for their order!” during first day on the Job, Jungkook called out, carrying a tray.
“I’m not blind, Jungkook,” you replied, grabbing the drinks. “Stop hovering.”
“I’m not hovering. I’m supervising,” he said, following you anyway. “Also, you look cute in the apron.”
You shot him a glare over your shoulder. “Focus on work.”
“Yes, Boss,” he said innocently, but you caught him smiling behind your back.
Later that week, one day while you were wiping tables together after closing, he started.
“You’re actually good at this,” he said, stacking chairs. “The customers like you. Especially the elders. They keep asking about you when you are not around.”
“They’re sweet,” you admitted quietly.
Jungkook glanced at you, surprised by the soft tone. “And me? Am I sweet too?”
“You’re… chaotic,” you muttered while hiding the smile.
He laughed loudly. “I’ll take that as compliment. Progress!”
One late evening, after a busy day, you two were doing the final clean up. The café was quiet except for the sound of waves crashing outside and the soft hum of the fridge.
Jungkook handed you a glass of cold lemonade. “Here. You worked hard today. Drink this before you collapse.”
You took it, surprised. “Thanks.”
He leaned against the counter beside you, both of you staring out at the dark sea for a while. After a comfortable silence, he spoke gently. “So… how are you feeling here? Really.”
You sipped the lemonade slowly.
You stayed silent for a moment, then answered honestly, “Better than Seoul. But sometimes my head still gets loud.”
He nodded slowly, not pushing. “That’s okay. Loud heads need quiet places. And if it gets too loud again… I’m here. You can talk, or you can just sit next to me in silence. No need to explain.”
You glanced at him. The warm lighting made his features look softer.
He was staring at the ocean, giving you space.
“You’re… not what I expected,” you said softly.
Jungkook turned to you with a gentle smile. “What did you expect?”
“Someone way more annoying,” you said honestly.
Jungkook laughed loudly, the sound warm and bright. “I am annoying. You just haven’t unlocked my final form yet.”
You shook your head, but a small, real smile slipped out.
Jungkook noticed immediately. His eyes softened. “There it is.”
“What?”
“Your smile. You’ve been hiding it from me for weeks.”
“Shut up,” you muttered, turning away to hide your face, but your smile only grew.
“Make me,” he teased, voice dropping playfully.
The air suddenly felt thicker.
You both went quiet, the tension humming between you.
Finally, you cleared your throat and picked up the mop. “We still have to mop the floor.”
“Yes, boss,” he said softly, almost affectionately.
You paused mid-mop and raised an eyebrow at him. “It’s your café, Jungkook. Technically, you’re the boss here.”
He stopped wiping and turned to you fully, leaning on the table with a mischievous sparkle in his eyes.
“Nah,” he said, shaking his head.
“I love how you order me around. The way you tell me what to do with that serious face… it’s cute. Makes me want to obey you immediately.”
You scoffed, trying to ignore the way your cheeks warmed. “That’s ridiculous. You’re the owner. Stop playing around.”
“But I’m serious,” he continued, stepping a little closer, still grinning.
“You say ‘Jungkook, stack those chairs properly’ and I’m suddenly the most obedient employee in the world. You say ‘Wipe that counter again’ and I do it happily. So tell me… who’s really the boss here?”
You glared at him, but there was no real heat behind it. “You’re impossible.”
“And yet you like ordering me around,” he teased, biting his lip to hold back a bigger smile. “Admit it. You secretly enjoy having me under your control.”
“Keep talking and I’ll make you mop the entire floor by yourself,” you shot back, trying to sound stern but failing as a laugh slipped out.
Jungkook’s eyes widened dramatically. “See? That’s exactly what I’m talking about! One threat from you and my heart is racing. You’re definitely the boss, sweetheart.”
Your breath hitched at the sudden pet name, but you quickly recovered. “Don't call me that.”
He laughed, bright and unrestrained.
You both continued cleaning, but the air between you felt lighter and heavier at the same time, filled with playful tension that was getting harder to ignore.
After locking up the café, Jungkook insisted on walking you all the way home. The moonlight painted the quiet path in soft silver as you walked side by side.
The only sounds were your footsteps and the distant waves.
When you reached your grandma’s gate, he stopped and turned to you with a soft smile.
“See you tomorrow, boss,” he said gently, giving you that signature wink.
You rolled your eyes, but your lips were already curving into a smile. “Goodnight, Jungkook.”
He waited until you were safely inside the gate, then turned and started walking back toward his place. You stood there for a moment, watching his figure slowly disappear down the moonlit path.
That’s when it hit you.
You were starting to look forward to every single day with him.
The campfire nights had slowly become your favourite part of the week. It had already been more than three months since you first arrived in this countryside town.
Three months of knowing Jungkook.
From awkward silences to playful banter, from reluctant smiles to genuine laughter, he had become a steady, warm presence in your life without ever pushing too hard.
Every Friday, Jungkook lit a big bonfire on the sand beside the café.
Locals gathered with blankets, homemade snacks, and cheerful chatter. The waves provided a soothing rhythm in the background while fairy lights glowed softly overhead.
You were sitting on a wide bench near the fire, wrapped in a cozy blanket, when Jungkook picked up his guitar. The moment his fingers touched the strings, the crowd quieted down in anticipation.
He played a gentle, heartfelt melody.
Then his smooth, slightly raspy voice filled the night air. Halfway through the song, his eyes found yours across the fire. And they stayed there.
His gaze was soft, full of quiet affection and patience.
The firelight danced beautifully on his face, making him look almost unreal. Your heart fluttered wildly. You tried to look away, but it felt impossible. Your cheeks grew warmer than the fire itself.
When the song ended, the crowd erupted into applause and whistles.
Old Mr. Kim laughed loudly and shouted, “Aigoo, our Jungkookie is finally falling for someone! Look at him singing with those heart eyes!”
Mrs. Park joined in, clapping her hands. “After rejecting every girl who tried to approach him for years, he’s completely whipped! When are you going to make it official, Jungkook-ah?”
More teasing comments followed, making the whole group laugh. Jungkook just smiled shyly and rubbed the back of his neck, not denying anything but not feeding into the teasing either.
You kept your head down, pretending to adjust the blanket around you, trying your best to ignore everything.
Slowly, as the night grew later, the crowd began thinning.
Families with children left first, then the elders, waving goodbyes and thanking Jungkook for another beautiful night. Soon, only a few people remained, chatting quietly.
That’s when Jungkook finally stood up.
He set his guitar down carefully and walked over to you.
He crouched in front of you, close enough that you could smell his comforting scent. The firelight still glowed softly on his face. He looked up at you with that gentle, heart-melting smile.
“Did you like it?” he asked softly, his voice warm and sincere.
You bit your lip, still feeling flustered. “It was… really beautiful.”
“Beautiful?” His eyes crinkled with genuine happiness. “I’ll take that. I wrote that song a few weeks ago.”
Your eyes widened slightly. “You wrote it?”
He nodded, still crouching in front of you, his gaze never leaving your face. “Yeah… been feeling a lot of things lately.” He paused for a moment, then added gently, “But I’m not rushing anything. I just wanted you to hear it.”
The sweetness in his tone made your chest tighten. He was always like this... patient, understanding, never putting pressure on you.
You whispered, “Jungkook… you don’t have to—”
“I know,” he said softly, cutting you off with a tender smile. “I’m not asking for anything. I just… really like being around you. That’s more than enough for me right now.”
For a long moment, the world seemed to fade away.
It was just the two of you, the crackling fire, and the sound of waves in the background. His eyes held so much warmth and care that it made you feel both safe and scared at the same time.
You looked away, overwhelmed. “You’re too much sometimes.”
He chuckled lightly and stood up, but not before gently brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers lingered for a second longer than necessary, sending a rush of butterflies through you.
“Only for you,” he murmured so only you could hear.
Then, with one last soft, affectionate smile, he went to help the remaining people clean up, leaving you sitting there with a racing heart and cheeks that refused to cool down.
Your grandma, who noticed everything from afar, came to you and whispered gently, “He’s a good one, darling. He’s waiting for you… patiently.”
You didn’t reply. But deep inside, you knew she was right.
It was a quiet afternoon with very few customers.
Jungkook had closed the café for few hours and dragged you behind the café to the empty stretch of road.
“You once said you wanted to learn how to ride a bike,” he said, patting the sleek black motorcycle with a bright smile. “Well… today’s the day, boss.”
You eyed the powerful machine nervously. “I said that casually, Jungkook. I didn’t mean right now.”
“Too late,” he teased, handing you the helmet. “No backing out. I promised I’d teach you whenever we get free time.”
He helped you settle onto the bike first.
Then he climbed on behind you. His body pressed against yours from behind... chest flush to your back, thighs bracketing yours.
His warmth instantly surrounded you.
“Comfortable?” he asked, his voice low and close to your ear.
“Not even a little,” you admitted, your heart already racing.
He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your back.
“Good. Means you’re paying attention.” His arms came around you, large hands settling over yours on the handlebars. He adjusted your grip gently, his fingers lingering on yours far longer than necessary.
“Relax your shoulders,” he murmured, his breath brushing the side of your neck. “You’re too tense. I’ve got you. I won’t let anything happen.”
You swallowed hard. “Jungkook…”
“Hmm?” He turned his head slightly. His lips were dangerously close to your ear. “You said my name so softly just now.”
You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks. “Stop distracting me.”
“But distracting you is my favourite part,” he whispered, his thumbs slowly stroking the back of your hands. “Okay… slowly twist the throttle. Gentle, like this.”
He guided your hand with his, his touch firm yet tender. The bike purred to life beneath you.
For the next twenty minutes, he taught you patiently... correcting your posture, teaching you how to balance, when to brake. Every instruction came with his body pressed closer, his voice soft and intimate against your ear.
“You’re doing so well,” he praised, his tone warm and proud. “Look at you… riding so beautifully already.”
“Jungkook, focus,” you said, but your voice came out breathy.
“I am focusing,” he replied, his hands sliding from the handlebars to rest on your waist, steadying you. “Just not only on the bike.”
The road was completely empty except for the sound of waves in the distance. He made you stop the bike on the side under the shade of a big tree.
Neither of you moved.
“You’re shaking again,” he observed softly. His hands stayed on your waist, fingers gently pressing into your sides.
“I’m not used to someone being this… close,” you confessed.
Jungkook rested his chin lightly on your shoulder, his cheek brushing against yours. “Do you want me to move away?”
You stayed silent.
The truth was you didn’t.
He smiled against your skin. “That’s what I thought.” His voice dropped even lower, more intimate. “You feel so perfect like this… right here in my arms.”
The tension thickened.
You turned your head slightly to look at him. Your faces were inches apart. His dark eyes dropped to your lips, then slowly back up to your eyes. The air between you felt electric.
“Tell me to stop…” he whispered, leaning in closer, “and I will.”
Your breath mingled with his.
Both of you slowly leaned in.
Your noses brushed. His lips were a heartbeat away from yours.
Suddenly — HONK!
A car drove past on the main road nearby, honking loudly and breaking the spell.
You jerked back, heart pounding wildly. Jungkook let out a frustrated groan and dropped his forehead against your shoulder, breathing heavily.
“Damn it,” he muttered, half laughing, half pained. “Worst timing in the world.”
You let out a shaky laugh, trying to steady your racing heart. “We… we should head back. It’s getting late. Rush hour is gonna start.”
Jungkook stayed there for a second longer, forehead pressed to your shoulder, hands still gripping your waist possessively. Then he sighed and finally pulled back.
“Yeah,” he said softly, voice husky. “We should.”
Later that night, after the last customer left and you both had closed the café, you started wiping down the counter.
Jungkook was in the storeroom at the back, checking inventory.
After a few minutes, he called out from inside, “Hey boss, you can head home after you’re done. I’ll be here for a while checking the stock. Might take some time tonight.”
You paused for a second, then continued wiping the already clean counter.
“Okay,” you replied, but made no move to leave.
Thirty minutes passed.
Jungkook finally stepped out of the storeroom, wiping his hands on a towel. He stopped when he saw you still there, slowly wiping the same spot.
“You’re still here,” he said softly, a gentle and knowing smile spreading across his face. “I thought I told you to go home.”
You shrugged, pretending to be casual while avoiding his eyes. “The counter still looked a bit dirty. Figured I’d wait so we can lock up together.”
Jungkook walked closer until he was standing right in front of you, the counter no longer between you. He tilted his head, eyes warm and playful.
“Or maybe… you missed me when I wasn’t around?” he asked, voice low and teasing.
You bit your lip and didn’t answer.
The truth sat heavy in your chest.
He stepped even closer, gently taking the cloth from your hand and setting it aside. For a moment, he just looked at you, the air between you thick with everything unsaid.
“You know,” he murmured, “you don’t have to make excuses to wait for me.”
Your heart fluttered.
You looked up at him, the proximity making it hard to breathe normally again.
Jungkook’s gaze softened, but he didn’t push further. Instead, he gave you a small, warm smile and gently brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. “Come on, boss. Let’s go home.”
As you walked together under the moonlight toward your grandma’s house, the quiet realization settled deep inside you.
This friendship definitely started turning into something more.
The worst part was that Jungkook wasn’t even hiding the fact that he liked you. He was open about it... in the way he looked at you, the way he teased you, the way he found excuses to be near you, and how he always made sure you got home safe.
He was making his feelings loud and clear.
And feeling this safe with him... this warm, this wanted, this cared for — terrified you more than anything.
It was a slow Thursday afternoon at the café.
Only a few customers were scattered around. Jungkook leaned over the counter toward you, flashing that bright, boyish smile that always made your stomach flip.
“So… I’m heading to my farmhouse this weekend,” he said casually, but his eyes were sparkling with clear excitement. “It’s about 20 km away, right by the sea. Super private, beautiful view, pool, everything. No people, no noise… just peace.”
He tilted his head, biting his lip. “Come with me?”
You looked up from arranging the cups, trying hard to hide your fluttering heart. “Just like that? You’re planning to kidnap me for the whole weekend?”
Jungkook let out a bright laugh, leaning even closer. “Not kidnapping. A very romantic invitation. I’ll cook for you, we can swim, watch the stars… I promise it’ll be fun.”
You crossed your arms, a playful smirk forming on your lips. “Hmm… If you’re taking me somewhere private for three whole days, you should at least ask my grandma first. Like a proper gentleman.”
Jungkook’s eyebrows shot up, clearly amused. “Oh? You want me to do the traditional thing?”
“Exactly,” you said, lifting your chin. “If you’re bold enough to invite me, be bold enough to ask permission.”
He straightened up dramatically and placed a hand over his heart. “Challenge accepted, boss. I’m not scared of your grandma. Watch me.”
Later that evening, after closing the café, Jungkook walked you home. The moment you reached your grandma’s gate, he didn’t hesitate.
“Halmeoni!” he called out cheerfully.
Your grandma opened the door with a warm smile. “Oh? Both of you together again? Come in, come in.”
Jungkook stepped forward confidently. “Actually, Halmeoni, I wanted to ask you something important.”
Your grandma raised an eyebrow, looking between you two with an already knowing look. “Go on, Jungkook-ah.”
He smiled brightly.
“I’m planning to go to my farmhouse this weekend. You already know it's not that far from here. I wanted to take your granddaughter with me for a few days… just to relax and get some fresh air. I promise I’ll take very good care of her. We’ll be back safely on Monday.”
Your grandma’s eyes twinkled with mischief.
She looked at you first. “Do you want to go, dear?”
You felt your cheeks heating up. “I… um… yes. If it’s okay with you.”
Jungkook quickly added, “I’ll cook all the meals, make sure she rests properly, and we won’t do anything she’s uncomfortable with. You have my word.”
Your grandma chuckled softly, clearly enjoying this. “Jungkook-ah, you’ve been helping me and this whole town for years. I trust you completely.”
She turned to you with a big smile. “Go and enjoy, both of you. You’ve both been working so hard. Spend some time together. Make good memories.”
“Halmeoni!” you groaned, covering your face with your hands. “You’re supposed to at least pretend to think about it.”
She laughed heartily. “Why would I say no?”
Jungkook grinned victoriously, looking extremely proud of himself. “See? Even Halmeoni has been rooting for me this whole time.”
You shot him a glare, still embarrassed. “Both of you are impossible.”
Grandma waved her hand. “Go pack your bag, sweetheart. And Jungkook… take care of her heart too, okay? Not just her safety.”
Jungkook’s expression softened.
He gave a small, sincere bow. “I will, Halmeoni. I promise.”
Your grandma gave you one last mischievous grin. “Don’t come back too soon. Stay as long as you want.”
“Halmeoni!” you whined again, making both of them laugh.
The next morning, you rode behind him on his motorcycle, arms wrapped tightly around his waist as the scenic coastal road stretched ahead.
The wind was fresh, the sea was sparkling brightly on your right.
Halfway through the ride, Jungkook slowed down the bike and placed one of his hands over yours on his stomach, his palm warm and protective.
He gently interlaced his fingers with yours.
“You okay back there?” he asked, his voice soft and warm against the wind.
“Yeah…” You rested your cheek against his broad back, feeling the steady rhythm of his breathing. “It’s so beautiful out here.”
He gave your hand a gentle squeeze.
“You’re more beautiful,” he said without hesitation, his thumb slowly stroking the back of your hand. “And I’m really glad you said yes. I was scared you’d change your mind at the last minute.”
You smiled against his back. “I almost did. But… I wanted to come with you.”
Jungkook let out a happy, contented sound. He occasionally kept his hand on yours, rubbing small circles on your skin with his thumb.
When you finally arrived at the farmhouse and got off the bike, your breath caught in your throat.
The place was stunning.
A sleek modern wooden villa sat right beside the endless sea. In the backyard was a large infinity pool with a beautiful man-made waterfall gently cascading into it. The open sky and the sound of waves created a sense of peace you hadn’t felt in a very long time.
“Wow…” you whispered, completely in awe.
Jungkook came up behind you without saying a word.
He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling your back flush against his chest. He rested his chin on your shoulder, his cheek gently brushing against yours as both of you looked at the view.
For a long moment, he just held you like that... quietly, warmly, like he never wanted to let go.
“Like it?” he finally asked, his voice low and intimate near your ear.
“I love it,” you breathed. “It feels… free. Like I can finally breathe.”
Jungkook smiled and pressed a slow, lingering kiss to the side of your head. He didn’t pull away immediately. Instead, he kept his lips there for a few extra seconds, then moved down to place another soft kiss just below your ear.
“Good,” he murmured against your skin. “That’s exactly what I wanted you to feel.”
He tightened his arms around you.
After a quiet pause, he spoke again, his voice softer this time.
“I come here when I need to escape from everything… Sometimes when I miss my parents a little too much, when the emptiness gets too loud… I come here to distract myself. To breathe.”
He nuzzled his face closer into the crook of your neck, holding you a little tighter. “And now… I get to share this place with you. It feels really special. More than special, actually.”
You placed your hands over his, gently squeezing. “Thank you for bringing me here, Jungkook. For trusting me with this part of you.”
He turned his head slightly and pressed a tender kiss on your neck, lingering there as he whispered, “Thank you for coming with me.”
Then he continued with a teasing tone to lighten the moment. “But first… go change. I want to see you in that swimsuit you packed.”
You turned in his arms and lightly smacked his chest. “You’re so shameless.”
“Only for you,” he murmured, eyes dark with affection.
Later that afternoon, you changed into a simple black swimsuit and stepped into the backyard. The sun felt warm on your skin as you walked toward the pool.
Jungkook was already in the water, leaning against the edge with his arms resting on the tiles. The moment he saw you, he went completely still.
His eyes slowly trailed down your body as you picked up the bottle of sunscreen and started applying it to your arms, shoulders, and neck.
He couldn’t look away.
You noticed his intense gaze and smiled shyly. “Are you just going to stare at me the whole time?”
Jungkook didn’t even try to hide it.
He tilted his head, a slow, appreciative smile forming on his lips.
“Can you blame me?” he said, voice low and warm. “You look… unreal. I’m trying to memorize every second of this.”
You continued rubbing sunscreen over your collarbones and down your arms, feeling his eyes follow every movement. The air between you already felt charged.
“Want some help?” he asked, his tone playful but undeniably husky.
You laughed softly. “I think I can manage.”
“Shame,” he murmured, still staring. “I was really looking forward to that.”
After you finished applying the lotion, you walked to the edge of the pool. Jungkook immediately swam closer, looking up at you with soft, dark eyes.
“Come here, baby,” he said gently, offering his hand.
You slipped into the cool water.
Jungkook wasted no time pulling you toward him until your bodies were almost touching. For a moment, he just held your waist under the water, thumbs gently stroking your sides as he looked at you.
“You really have no idea what you do to me, do you?” he whispered. “Standing there in the sunlight, putting on sunscreen like it’s the most innocent thing in the world… while I’m losing my mind over here.”
You placed your hands on his bare chest, feeling his heartbeat under your palms. “You’re being dramatic.”
“I’m being honest,” he replied softly.
He leaned in and pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead, then another on your temple, taking his time. “I’ve wanted you here with me like this for so long. Just you and me… no café, no town, no pretending we’re just friends.”
You felt your chest tighten at his words. “Jungkook…”
He pulled back slightly, eyes locked on yours with that same open affection that always made your heart race.
“I like you,” he said simply, no teasing this time. “A lot. In case it wasn’t obvious already.”
Your heart fluttered. You looked into his eyes and answered softly,
“I like you too, Jungkook.” You paused, biting your lip. “I’m scared… but I believe you won’t make me feel like a loser.”
Something tender flashed across his face.
He cupped your cheek gently with his wet hand.
“I won’t,” he whispered seriously. “I promise.”
To lighten the suddenly emotional mood, Jungkook grinned mischievously. “But right now…” he scooped up a huge splash of water and threw it at you, “I’m going to win this water fight!”
You squealed as the water hit you. “Jungkook!”
The next few minutes were filled with laughter and chaos.
He chased you around the pool, both of you splashing water at each other like kids. You tried to run away in the water, but he was faster, catching you by the waist and lifting you slightly, making you laugh harder.
“Got you!” he cheered.
You eventually got tired of chasing him. He was too fast and strong. So you changed tactics.
You swam slowly toward the shallower end, leaned against the pool wall, and gave him your best seductive look... half-lidded eyes, wet hair clinging to your skin, and a soft, inviting smile.
“Jungkook…” you called his name sweetly, trailing your fingers along your own collarbone. “Aren’t you tired of running?”
He stopped in his tracks, eyes darkening instantly.
The playful smile on his face slowly faded as he stared at you.
“Y-You’re playing dirty,” he said, voice suddenly much lower as he slowly walked through the water toward you. “That’s not fair.”
You tilted your head innocently, but kept the seductive expression. “Come here then.”
The moment he reached you, the air completely shifted, from playful to heavy and electric.
Jungkook cornered you against the pool wall near the waterfall, the cascading water creating a private, misty curtain around you both. He placed his hands on either side of you, trapping you between his strong arms.
His wet chest pressed against yours.
“You little temptress,” he breathed, forehead resting against yours. “You know exactly what you’re doing to me, don’t you?”
His nose brushed against yours.
The tension was thick, almost suffocating now.
“Tell me you feel it too,” he whispered, lips hovering just above yours. “Tell me I’m not the only one going insane here.”
You looked into his eyes, heart pounding wildly. “You’re not the only one.”
That was all it took.
Jungkook cupped your face with both hands and kissed you like he was drowning.
The first kiss was deep and hungry, months of pent-up longing exploding between you. His lips moved desperately against yours, soft yet demanding, as if he couldn’t get enough.
You kissed him back with equal desperation, fingers threading through his wet hair, pulling him closer.
He groaned loudly into your mouth, the sound raw and needy.
“God… finally,” he rasped against your lips, barely pulling back an inch. “You have no fucking idea how long I’ve wanted this.”
He tilted his head and kissed you harder, tongue slipping past your lips to taste you deeply. The kiss turned messy, wet, and urgent. Water splashed around you as he pressed your back against the pool wall, his body flush against yours.
“Jungkook—” you gasped when you felt his hardness pressing between your legs.
“Say my name again,” he begged, voice hoarse as he kissed you again, deeper this time. “Please, baby. Say it.”
“Jungkook…” you moaned into his mouth.
He growled, one hand sliding down your back to grip your ass, pulling you even tighter against him. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist as he ground against you slowly, deliberately.
“Fuck… you feel so good,” he panted, breaking the kiss only to breathe. “So fucking perfect. I’ve been going crazy every single day pretending I don’t want you like this.”
His lips trailed down your jaw to your neck. He sucked hard on your pulse point, then soothed it with his tongue, making your head fall back.
“Mhhmm... Jungkook!”
“I want everyone in town to know you’re mine,” he growled against your skin. “Tell me you’re mine, baby. Please.”
“I’m yours,” you gasped, nails digging into his shoulders. “I’m yours, Jungkook.”
He growled and captured your lips again in a filthy, desperate kiss.
His tongue tangled with yours as his hands roamed greedily, squeezing your waist, gripping your thighs, sliding up your back. He kissed you like he was afraid this moment would disappear.
“I can’t stop,” he confessed between heavy breaths, forehead pressed against yours. “I’ve wanted you for so long… every time you smiled at me, every time you teased me, every damn night. I wanted to pull you into the storeroom and kiss you stupid.”
He pulled back just enough to look at you, lips swollen, eyes dark with lust and something much softer.
“Tell me to slow down,” he said, voice rough, “and I will. But if you don’t… I’m going to kiss you until you forget every bad thing that ever happened to you.”
You answered by pulling him back into another fierce kiss.
Your legs tightened around his waist as you rocked against him.
“Baby…” he moaned into your mouth, the sound desperate and wrecked. “You’re driving me insane. If you keep kissing me like this, I won’t be able to stop myself.”
“Don’t stop,” you whispered, biting his lower lip. “Please don’t stop.”
Jungkook cursed under his breath and kissed you with renewed hunger... deep, wet, and messy. His hands gripped your ass, pulling you even closer as he pressed you against the pool wall under the waterfall.
The cool cascading water poured over both of you while your bodies burned.
“I'm yours now, baby,” he whispered against your swollen lips, voice soft and proud. “Say it.”
“You are mine,” you moaned, kissing him again desperately. “You are mine, Jungkook.”
He smiled against your mouth, breathing heavily, eyes blazing with lust and raw emotion.
“Good girl,” he whispered, before claiming your lips in another long, intoxicating kiss that left you both completely breathless.
The tension you’d both been holding for weeks had finally snapped... wild, desperate, and beautifully overwhelming under the falling water.
The next three days felt like a beautiful dream you never wanted to wake up from.
Mornings were slow and golden.
Sunlight would spill gently through the large windows as you slept in the cozy guest bedroom. Jungkook would quietly sneak in, sit on the edge of your bed, and wake you up with the softest kisses.
He’d press warm, lingering kisses across your forehead, your cheeks, and finally your lips until you stirred awake with a sleepy smile.
“Morning, baby,” he’d whisper in his deep, raspy morning voice, brushing hair away from your face. “Time to wake up. I made coffee for you.”
You’d hum softly, still half-asleep, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck. “Five more minutes…”
Jungkook would chuckle and nuzzle his nose against yours. “You said that 10 minutes ago. And yesterday too. I’m starting to think you just like me waking you up like this.”
“I do,” you admitted with a shy smile, pulling him down for a proper kiss. “Your good morning kisses are the best part of the day.”
He grinned against your lips, kissing you slowly and sweetly. “Then I’ll keep waking you up like this every single day. Deal?”
“Deal,” you whispered, melting under his gentle affection.
The moment the word left your mouth, Jungkook pulled back slightly with a dramatic, thoughtful expression.
“Hmm… but for that...” he said, pretending to think seriously, “...I’ll have to marry you as soon as possible. Otherwise, it’ll look weird if I keep sneaking into your room every morning, right? Also, what about my gentleman image... Can't let it ruin in front of Halmeoni!!”
Your eyes widened, and a bright laugh escaped you. “Jungkook!”
Before he could react, you attacked him with tickles, fingers digging into his sides. He burst into loud giggles, trying to catch your hands.
“Yahhh! Baby... stop—!” he laughed helplessly, falling onto the bed beside you as you continued tickling him. “This is domestic abuse!”
“You can’t just say things like that!” you giggled, still tickling him while he squirmed and laughed.
“Okay... okay! I surrender!” He finally caught both your wrists and pulled you on top of him, both of you breathing heavily and smiling like idiots.
“But I wasn’t joking about the marrying part,” he added softly, eyes sparkling with affection.
You blushed and hid your face in his neck. “You’re impossible.”
“And you love it,” he murmured, wrapping his arms around you tightly and kissing the top of your head.
One afternoon in the kitchen, you tried to help prepare lunch, but Jungkook immediately blocked your path with his body, a playful grin on his face. “Nope. You’re not touching anything.”
You stared at him, hands on your hips. “Excuse me? Why not?”
He crossed his arms, looking way too smug. “I promised your grandma I’d take care of you properly. That includes cooking for you. She specifically told me not to let you lift a finger.”
You let out a shocked laugh. “She did not say that... You are adding it on your own!”
“She definitely did,” he teased, nodding seriously. “She said her granddaughter works too hard and needs to be spoiled. So today, you’re sitting there looking pretty while I cook.”
You narrowed your eyes at him. “Jungkook, I don’t want to sit around like a decoration piece all the time. I want to do things with you.”
He stepped closer, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you against him. His voice dropped playfully, “Well… if you really want to help that badly, you need to bribe me first.”
You raised an eyebrow. “Bribe you?”
“Mhmm,” he hummed, leaning in until his nose brushed yours. “With kisses. Many kisses. The longer and sweeter, the more you get to help.”
You tried to look annoyed but couldn’t stop smiling. “You’re so clingy.”
Jungkook grinned wider, unbothered. “Extremely clingy. Only for you though.”
You paused, then softly added, “…But I like it.”
His eyes softened instantly. He cupped your face with both hands and kissed you gently, lingering for a long moment.
“Yeah?” he whispered against your lips. “Good. Because I don’t think I can stop being clingy with you even if I tried.”
You kissed him again, deeper this time, before pulling back with a smile. “Fine. I’ll bribe you… but only if I get to chop the vegetables.”
“Deal,” he said happily, still stealing small kisses as you both moved around the kitchen together.
The days were filled with simple, happy moments.
You spent hours swimming in the pool, floating together under the warm sun. He’d hold you in his arms while you both talked about random things... favourite childhood memories, silly dreams, and quiet hopes for the future.
At night, he taught you silly card games and dramatically complained every time you won.
“You’re cheating! There’s no way you’re this good,” he whined, pulling you into his lap as punishment.
You laughed and kissed his pout away. “You let me win on purpose and we both know it.”
“Maybe,” he admitted, smiling brightly. “I just love seeing you happy.”
Every touch between you now came so naturally... his fingers always finding yours, his hand resting on your waist, forehead kisses that lasted longer than necessary, and the way he’d randomly pull you close just because he missed you for five minutes.
There was no more hesitation.
You were officially together, and it felt like the most natural thing in the world.
Night before returning to town, Jungkook had lit a beautiful fire in the backyard firepit. The flames crackled warmly against the cool sea breeze.
You were wrapped in a big, soft blanket, sitting between his legs with your back pressed comfortably against his chest. His arms were wrapped securely around your waist as you both sipped hot coffee and watched the fire dance under the starry sky.
You stayed silent for a long time, just soaking in his warmth.
Eventually, you spoke. “Jungkook… can I tell you something?”
His arms tightened around you gently. “Of course, baby. Anything. I’m right here.”
You took a deep, shaky breath. “My breakup… it wasn’t just painful. It broke something in me.”
Your voice trembled. “He told me I was too much. Too emotional, too clingy, too intense. He said loving me was exhausting and that no one would ever be able to handle me for long. And for a while… I believed every word.”
Jungkook stayed quiet, just listening. His thumb continued drawing slow, soothing circles on your arm.
“But it wasn’t just him,” you continued, eyes stinging.
“My job in Seoul… I gave everything to that company. I worked late nights, skipped holidays, poured my soul into every project. And when the promotion came… they sabotaged me. Someone else took credit for my work and got promoted instead. I felt so used up and discarded. Like nothing I did ever mattered.”
You let out a broken breath. “I couldn’t handle it anymore. That’s why I ran away to Grandma. I was burnt out, heartbroken, and so tired of feeling like I was never enough.”
Jungkook pressed a long, tender kiss to the top of your head and held you closer.
“I’m so sorry you went through all of that, baby,” he whispered, voice thick with emotion. “You didn’t deserve any of it. Not the way he treated you, and not what your company did to you. You gave your best… and they failed you.”
You turned your head slightly to look at him. “When I started catching feelings for you… I got so scared. You make me feel safe, Jungkook. You make me feel wanted. And that safety terrified me. I kept thinking… what if I become too much for you too? What if one day you also get tired of me?”
Jungkook gently turned you in his arms so you were facing him sideways. He cupped your cheek with one hand, wiping away the tears that had fallen with his thumb.
“Hey… look at me,” he said softly. “I’m not him. And I’m not them. I will never get tired of you. Never.”
He rested his forehead against yours.
“I love how you get all bossy with me at the café. I love how you pretend to be annoyed when I flirt but still wait for me every night. I love how you blush when I call you baby. I love every single version of you—the quiet one, the sarcastic one, the emotional one, the strong one, the scared one… all of them.”
You sniffled, a small smile breaking through. “You’re too good to me.”
Jungkook smiled and kissed the tip of your nose. “If I ever leave you… which I won’t… but if I ever make you feel like I'm gonna do something that stupid, you have my full permission to burn my café down. Hell, I’ll even hand you the lighter and help you do it.”
You let out a watery laugh and lightly hit his chest. “You’re such an idiot.”
“Your idiot,” he corrected warmly, kissing your forehead. “Only yours. I’m not going anywhere, baby. I choose you. Every single day, I choose you.”
You turned fully in his arms and hugged him tightly, burying your face in his neck. “I choose you too,” you whispered. “I’m still scared… but I want this. I want us.”
“You have me,” he murmured, pressing kisses to your temple, your cheek, and finally your lips. “All of me.”
The kiss started gentle and comforting… but it didn’t stay that way for long.
It slowly deepened, growing hotter and more desperate.
Jungkook cradled the back of your head as his lips moved against yours with increasing hunger. Your mouths opened wider, turning the kiss messy and wet. The soft sighs turned into breathy moans as tongues met — slow, deep, and sensual.
Wet sounds filled the quiet night air as he licked into your mouth, tasting you like he couldn’t get enough.
You kissed him back just as eagerly, tongues sliding together, lips becoming slick and swollen. A thin string of saliva connected you both when he briefly pulled away, only to dive back in even deeper.
The fire crackled beside you, but the real heat was blooming between your bodies.
Jungkook pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against yours, both of you breathing heavily. His thumb gently caressed your glistening bottom lip, eyes dark with desire yet overflowing with tenderness.
“Baby…” he whispered huskily, voice low and intimate against your wet lips. “Do you want to continue?”
You looked into his eyes, heart racing wildly.
There was no pressure in his gaze — only love, patience, and raw want.
“Yes,” you whispered, fingers threading through his hair as you pulled him closer. “I want you, Jungkook. I want all of this with you… everything.”
A soft, beautiful smile touched his lips.
He leaned in again and kissed you deeply — slower this time, but even messier. His tongue explored your mouth thoroughly, licking and sucking on your tongue with wet, filthy sounds.
He kissed you like he was pouring every ounce of his love into it, lips sliding against yours, tongues tangling sensually. You could taste the coffee and sweetness on his tongue as he devoured you slowly.
His hand slid down your back, pulling your body flush against his as the blanket slipped from your shoulders, exposing more skin to the cool night air.
“Then let’s go inside,” he murmured against your slick, swollen lips, voice warm and full of promise. “I want to love you properly… slowly.”
He stood up effortlessly, lifting you in his arms along with the blanket.
You wrapped your arms around his neck as he carried you, never stopping the gentle kisses. He pressed soft kisses along your jaw and down your neck, whispering sweet words between each one.
“You’re so beautiful,” he breathed against your skin. “I’m so lucky you’re mine. I’ve got you, baby… always.”
He carried you inside the house, your arms wrapped around his neck, the blanket trailing behind. The bedroom door was already ajar. Jungkook pushed it open with his shoulder and gently laid you down on the large, soft bed.
The only light came from a warm bedside lamp, casting a golden glow over both of you. He hovered above you for a moment, just looking at you with so much affection it made your chest ache.
“Are you really sure, baby?” he asked softly, brushing his thumb across your cheek. “We don’t have to do anything tonight. Just being with you is enough.”
You reached up and pulled him down into a kiss. “I’m sure,” you whispered against his lips. “I want to feel close to you… in every way.”
Jungkook smiled tenderly and kissed you again, deeper this time. His hands moved slowly as he helped you sit up. You both undressed each other unhurriedly — savouring every moment.
He slipped the blanket off your shoulders, then gently pulled your top over your head. His lips immediately found your newly exposed skin, pressing soft kisses along your collarbone.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, voice full of awe. “Every single part of you.”
You tugged at his shirt, and he helped you pull it off.
Your hands explored his warm, toned chest as he unclasped your bra, letting it fall away. He kissed you again, slow and sensual, while his hands gently cupped your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples until you sighed into his mouth.
“Jungkook…” you breathed.
He laid you back down and slowly removed the rest of your clothes, kissing every inch of skin he revealed... your stomach, your hips, your thighs. When you were completely bare, he stood for a second just to admire you.
“God… look at you,” he whispered, almost reverently. He quickly removed his own pants and boxers, then crawled back over you.
He started by devouring your lips, deep, passionate kisses that left you dizzy and breathless. Then his mouth began to travel lower.
He kissed down the column of your neck, sucking gently on your pulse point until you shivered. His lips continued their slow descent, pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses across your collarbone. When he finally reached your breasts, he let out a soft, reverent groan.
“These are so pretty,” he murmured, cupping one breast gently in his large hand. “So soft… perfect.”
He leaned down and dragged his tongue slowly around your nipple, teasing the sensitive bud before flicking it lightly. You arched into him with a quiet moan. Jungkook smiled against your skin and did it again, slower this time, savoring your reaction.
“You like that?” he asked, voice husky as he looked up at you through his lashes.
“Yes…” you breathed.
He wrapped his lips around your nipple and sucked gently, then harder, alternating between soft suction and slow, lazy circles of his tongue.
His hand kneaded your other breast, rolling the nipple between his fingers before pinching it lightly, just enough to make you gasp.
“Jungkook…” you whimpered, fingers threading through his hair.
He switched sides, giving your other breast the same devoted attention... licking, sucking, and kissing every inch like he had all the time in the world.
He took his time, humming happily against your skin as he sucked harder on one nipple while gently pinching the other.
“So sensitive for me,” he whispered, blowing cool air on the wet bud before sucking it back into his warm mouth. “I could do this for hours… just listening to the pretty sounds you make.”
You squirmed underneath him, heat pooling between your legs. “Jungkook… please…”
He gave one final slow lick to your nipple before kissing his way down your stomach, leaving a trail of wet kisses. He settled between your thighs and looked up at you with dark, loving eyes, his lips glistening.
“I’ve wanted to taste you for so long, baby,” he said, voice thick with desire. “Will you let me?”
“Yes,” you whispered, nodding. “Please, Jungkook.”
He settled between your legs, spreading them gently. He kissed your inner thighs first, teasing you with soft bites and licks. Then, finally, his mouth found your core.
The first long, slow lick made you moan loudly.
Jungkook groaned in response.
“Fuck, you taste so sweet,” he murmured against you. “So perfect.”
He took his time, licking, sucking, and kissing with pure devotion. His tongue circled your clit before sucking it gently into his mouth. When your hips bucked, he held them down softly, continuing his slow, sensual torture.
“Relax, baby. Let me take care of you,” he said softly before wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking tenderly.
“Mhmm... Jungkook!” you gasped, back arching, fingers gripping his hair. “That feels so good…”
He hummed happily, alternating between sucking your clit and licking broad strokes through your folds. Every movement was deliberate and full of adoration.
He slid one finger inside you slowly, curling it gently while his tongue continued its sweet torture on your clit.
“You’re so wet for me,” he murmured against you, adding a second finger. “So tight and warm… Does this feel good, baby?”
“Yes— so good,” you moaned, breathing heavily. “Don’t stop… please don’t stop...,” your eyes fluttering shut. “You’re making me feel so loved.”
He added a second finger, curling them gently while sucking on your clit with just the right pressure. Your thighs started trembling around his head.
“That’s it, baby. Let go for me,” he whispered. “I want to feel you come on my tongue.”
The pleasure built slowly but intensely.
With a soft cry of his name, you came undone, shaking as waves of pleasure washed over you. Jungkook kept licking you gently through it, humming happily against your sensitive flesh.
When you finally came down, he kissed his way back up your body until he was hovering over you again. He kissed you deeply, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.
“How are you feeling?” he asked tenderly, brushing your hair back.
“Amazing,” you whispered, still catching your breath. “I want you inside me now, Jungkook.”
He kissed you again, slow and full of emotion. “I’ll go slow, okay? Tell me if you want me to stop or go faster.”
He positioned himself between your legs, the blunt head of his cock pressing gently against your slick entrance. He locked eyes with you, full of love and desire, and slowly began pushing inside, inch by inch, stretching you open with careful patience.
Both of you let out soft, breathy moans when he finally bottomed out, buried completely inside you.
“Baby…” Jungkook breathed, forehead pressed against yours. His voice was thick with emotion. “You feel incredible… so warm, so tight around me. Like you were made for me.”
He stayed still, letting you adjust to his size, while pressing the softest kisses to your lips, your nose, and your cheeks.
“You okay, my love?” he whispered tenderly, one hand gently stroking your hair. “Tell me if it’s too much.”
“I’m perfect,” you whispered back, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him even deeper. “Move... Please... You feel so good inside me, Jungkook…”
He smiled softly and kissed you again, slow and deep. “I love being connected with you like this,” he murmured against your lips. “Nothing between us. Just you and me.”
Jungkook began moving slow, deep, sensual rolls of his hips.
Every thrust was deliberate, dragging against your walls in the most delicious way. He kept one hand intertwined with yours, pinning it gently beside your head, while the other cradled your face.
“Tell me how it feels, baby,” he whispered, lips brushing yours with every thrust. “I want to hear your voice.”
“So good…” you moaned softly, eyes fluttering. “You’re so deep… I can feel all of you.”
He groaned quietly, the sound vibrating against your chest. “You’re squeezing me so beautifully. So perfect. I could stay inside you forever like this.”
He kissed you again, tongues sliding together lazily as he continued his slow, rhythmic pace. The room filled with the soft sounds of skin meeting skin, quiet moans, and whispered words.
“You make me feel so safe,” you confessed breathlessly between kisses. “I’ve never felt this loved before.”
Jungkook’s eyes softened even more. He thrust a little deeper, grinding against you gently.
“You are loved,” he said tenderly, voice husky. “So deeply loved. I’m going to spend every day proving it to you. Every morning. Every night. You’ll never doubt how much you mean to me.”
You moaned louder as he hit a particularly sensitive spot.
Your free hand ran down his back, nails grazing his skin. “Right there… Jungkook, right there…”
He kept the same angle, stroking that spot with every slow thrust. “Here, baby? Like this?” he asked, voice sweet but dripping with lust.
“I won’t,” he promised, kissing your neck and sucking gently on your pulse point. “I love watching your face when I make you feel good. You’re so beautiful when you fall apart for me.”
Your bodies moved together in a perfect, sensual rhythm.
He never rushed.
Every thrust was full of love, devotion, and intimacy. “You’re doing so well, baby…” He kept whispering sweet praises between kisses... “Taking me so beautifully… I’m so lucky you’re mine…”
As the pleasure built higher, your moans grew softer but more desperate. Jungkook could feel you tightening around him.
“You’re getting close, aren’t you?” he murmured lovingly, pressing his forehead to yours again. “Come with me, sweetheart. Let me feel you.”
“I’m so close…” you gasped, squeezing his hand tighter. “Jungkook… I love you.”
Those words made him groan deeply. His thrusts became slightly deeper, still slow and sensual.
“I love you too,” he whispered against your lips. “So much. Come for me, baby. I’ve got you.”
A few more loving, deep strokes and you fell apart beneath him — moaning his name softly as intense pleasure washed over you in warm waves. Your walls clenched rhythmically around him, pulling him deeper.
Jungkook followed right after, burying himself as deep as possible with a soft, broken moan of your name. He trembled above you, filling you with warmth as he came.
For a long moment, neither of you moved.
He stayed buried deep inside you, holding you close as you both caught your breath. He pressed endless gentle kisses across your face—your forehead, eyelids, nose, cheeks, and finally your lips.
“I’ve got you,” he whispered lovingly. “I’ve got you, my baby. You’re safe. You’re loved.”
You wrapped your arms and legs around him tightly, tears of overwhelming emotion pricking your eyes.
“I’ve never felt this cherished before,” you whispered.
Jungkook smiled softly and kissed you again, slow and full of promise. “Then I’ll just have to cherish you more… every single day.”
Jungkook stayed buried deep inside you for a few long minutes, both of you breathing softly against each other. He finally lifted his head and looked at you with the gentlest eyes, a tender smile playing on his lips.
He slowly pulled out of you, making you whimper at the loss.
Immediately, he gathered you in his arms and rolled onto his back so you were lying on top of his chest.
“Come here, baby,” he whispered, wrapping his strong arms around you securely.
He pressed soft kisses to your forehead, then your temple, while his hand gently stroked up and down your bare back in soothing motions.
“How are you feeling?” he asked quietly, voice full of warmth and care. “Any discomfort?”
You shook your head, nuzzling deeper into his chest. “I feel perfect… just a little sensitive. But so loved.”
“Good,” he murmured, kissing the top of your head again. “You were so good for me. So beautiful.”
He reached over to the side table and grabbed the packet of wipes, gently cleaning between your legs with the utmost care and tenderness. After tossing the wipes aside, he pulled the warm blanket over both of you and hugged you closer.
“You’re trembling a little,” he noticed, rubbing your arms gently to warm you up. “Is that okay?”
You smiled shyly. “Yeah… just from everything. It felt really intense… in the best way.”
Jungkook chuckled softly and tilted your chin up so he could kiss you.
It was slow, soft, full of love.
“I love you,” he whispered against your lips. “Thank you for trusting me tonight.”
“I love you too,” you whispered back, resting your cheek over his heart. “This feels like home.”
He held you tighter, one hand playing with your hair while the other traced gentle patterns on your waist. “Then stay right here,” he said softly. “This is your home now… in my arms.”
You both lay there in comfortable silence, wrapped around each other, listening to the distant sound of waves and the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear.
You felt safe, cherished and loved.
The ride back to town felt too short.
Your arms were wrapped securely around Jungkook’s waist, cheek resting against his back as the coastal wind whipped past you.
Jungkook kept one hand on the handlebar, but his other hand frequently found yours... gently squeezing the hands you had clasped around his stomach.
Every few minutes, he would slide his hand down to squeeze your thigh affectionately, his touch warm and possessive.
He kept glancing at you through the rear-view mirror, that bright, lovesick smile never leaving his face.
“You know you’re staring at me more than the road, right?” you teased, raising your voice slightly over the wind.
Jungkook chuckled, giving your thigh another gentle squeeze.
“Can you blame me?” he called back. “My beautiful girlfriend is hugging me from behind. This is the best view I’ve ever had while riding.”
You blushed and hid your face against his back, but he wasn’t done.
“Baby,” he said playfully, interlacing his fingers with yours again over his stomach. “You’re holding me so tight. Scared I’ll disappear or just enjoying yourself?”
“Both,” you admitted, smiling. “And stop looking at me in the mirror so much! Focus on driving.”
He laughed loudly, the sound warm and happy.
“I’m a very good multitasker,” he replied, gently squeezing your hand. “Right now I’m driving… and admiring how pretty my girl looks with the sea behind her. Two important things.”
“You’re impossible,” you muttered, but your arms tightened around him affectionately.
“And you love it,” he said confidently, bringing your hand up to his lips for a quick kiss before placing it back on his waist. “Don’t even try to deny it, boss.”
As soon as you stepped through your grandma’s gate, she was already standing on the porch with her arms crossed and a knowing smile.
“Oh my…” she said, eyes scanning both of you. “Look at you two. Glowing like lanterns. Did you even sleep at that farmhouse or just stare at each other the whole time?”
“Relaxed?” Grandma raised an eyebrow. “Darling, you have red patch on your neck and Jungkook is smiling like he won the lottery. Don’t insult my intelligence.”
You covered your neck with your hand, mortified. “It’s not... we didn’t... I mean—”
Jungkook, who was carrying both your bags like they weighed nothing, laughed warmly behind you.
“Halmeoni, you’re too sharp,” he said cheerfully. “I can never win with you.”
Before you could defend yourself, Jungkook walked past you with all the confidence in the world and set the luggage down dramatically.
“Halmeoni,” he announced proudly, standing tall like he was making a speech, “...guess what?”
Your grandma tilted her head, amused. “What, my dear?”
“You’ve been asking me for the last two years... ‘Jungkook-ah, when are you bringing a granddaughter-in-law home?’” He grinned, full of charm and mischief. “Well… I think I’ll be bringing your granddaughter as your official granddaughter-in-law soon.”
“Jungkook!” you gasped, eyes wide in panic.
You lightly smacked his arm. “You can’t just say that!”
He turned to you with the most innocent, lovesick expression. “Why not? It’s true.”
Grandma clapped her hands together in pure delight. “Finally! Welcome to the family, Jungkook. Though… you’ve been my favorite grandson in my heart for a long time. But now you will be my favorite grandson-in-law too.”
You buried your face in your hands. “I’m going to disappear. Right now. Into the sea.”
Jungkook laughed and pulled you into his side, kissing the top of your head. “No disappearing. You’re stuck with me now, boss.”
Later that evening, when you two were alone on the porch, you were sitting on the wooden swing, legs draped over Jungkook’s lap. He was gently rubbing your calf while the evening sea breeze played with your hair.
You looked at him shyly. “Were you serious earlier? About the… granddaughter-in-law part?”
Jungkook turned to you, his expression softening completely.
He took your hand and interlaced your fingers.
“I’ve been serious about you since the day you ignored me at the café,” he said gently. “Even when you were cold and distant, I already knew I wanted you in my life. But I’m not rushing you, baby.”
He lifted your hand and kissed your knuckles. “We’ll go as slow as you want. I’ll wait until you’re fully ready. No pressure. Just… I want you to know where my heart is.”
You felt your eyes get teary. “You’re too good to me, you know that?”
He smiled and pulled you closer until you were practically sitting in his lap. “I plan to keep being too good to you. Every single day.”
Jungkook had zero intention of keeping your relationship private.
The very next morning, the moment you stepped into the café, Jungkook’s face lit up like the sun. He was behind the counter but immediately rushed toward you, wiping his hands on his apron.
He greeted you with a big kiss on the lips right in front of three regular customers.
“Jungkook!” you whispered, mortified but breathless.
“Morning, girlfriend,” he said loudly and proudly, a bright grin plastered on his face for the entire café to see.
You covered your face with your hands. “Oh my god… everyone is staring.”
“Good... Let them stare,” he chuckled, clearly enjoying your reaction. He gently took your hands away from your face and turned you around so your back was facing him.
“Come here, let me help you,” he murmured softly.
His arms came around you from behind as he helped tie your apron strings. His fingers moved slowly and deliberately, brushing against your waist and lower back more than necessary.
He leaned down, lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “You look so cute when you’re blushing like this. Makes me want to kiss you again.”
“Jungkook, stop,” you whined quietly, but a shy smile was fighting its way onto your lips. “There are customers!”
“Let them enjoy the show,” he teased, tying a neat bow but refusing to move away. Instead, he wrapped his arms fully around your waist and hugged you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder.
Old Mrs. Park, who came for her daily tea, clapped excitedly. “Finally! I was wondering when this boy would make it official!”
Later, when a group of young girls from town came in and started flirting with him, Jungkook immediately pulled you to his side.
“Sorry ladies,” he said cheerfully, kissing your temple. “I’m very taken. This is my girlfriend. She’s the boss here… and of me.”
You elbowed him lightly, embarrassed but smiling. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”
“Extremely,” he admitted, nuzzling your cheek. “I’ve been waiting months to show you off. Let me flex a little.”
In the evenings, he walked you home holding your hand, swinging it between you like a lovesick teenager.
“You know... it's been weeks and the whole town is still talking about us, right?” you asked, laughing, one day while heading to home.
“Good,” he replied, pulling you closer. “Let them talk. I want everyone to know that the cold girl from Seoul who used to ignore me is now the love of my life.”
You stopped walking and looked up at him, heart overflowing.
Without thinking, you rose onto your tiptoes, held his face gently, and pecked his lips—soft, sweet, and full of affection.
Jungkook’s face lit up like the sunrise.
His eyes widened in pleasant surprise before melting into the softest, most loving smile.
“What was that for?” he whispered, still grinning.
“Because I love you,” you said shyly, still holding his face. “And I wanted to kiss you first for once.”
He let out a happy little laugh and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer.
“I love you more,” he murmured, forehead resting against yours. “So much more. And I’m going to keep saying it until you get tired of hearing it.”
You smiled, brushing your nose against his. “Not possible.”
The office was a battlefield, and you were armed with nothing but a clipboard, a scalding cup of coffee, and a death glare reserved exclusively for Jeon Jungkook.
Unfortunately, he was not just your cold, cocky, insufferably smug CEO.
No, he was Satan in a three-piece suit.
And you were his underpaid, overqualified, dangerously close-to-snapping executive assistant.
Today was no different.
You stood in front of his sleek, glass-topped desk, arms crossed, watching him lean back in his leather chair like he owned the world.
His tailored suit hugged his frame in a way that was illegal, and his dark hair fell just enough over his forehead to make you want to scream.
Not because it was messy.
Because it was perfectly messy, like he’d spent an hour in front of the mirror to make it look effortless.
“Coffee,” he said, not looking up from his laptop, sliding his empty mug toward you with a flick of his wrist.
No please. No thank you. Not even eye contact.
Just that smug, cold tone that made your blood boil.
You didn’t move.
Instead, you slid the mug back toward him, the ceramic scraping softly against the glass was loud enough in a silent chaos. “Say 'Please', Mr. Jeon. And I might consider it.”
His eyes flicked up, dark and piercing, a slow smirk curling his lips. “Careful, Y/N. You’re supposed to make my life easier, not harder.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” you said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “I must’ve missed the part in my job description where it says ‘personal barista.’”
He chuckled under his breath, clearly entertained. “Feisty today. Didn’t sleep well? Rough night?”
You narrowed your eyes. “Only because you called me at two in the morning to ‘check if I was awake enough to fix your schedule.’ Spoiler alert: I wasn’t. Because it was TWO. IN. THE. MORNING.”
From the cubicles outside the glass wall of his office, you could feel everyone freeze.
The office had learned to treat your daily bickering sessions as a live reality show. The tension was always high, the dialogues were spicy, and no one dared to interrupt.
Jungkook leaned back, crossing his arms, the leather of his chair creaking. “You’re paid to be available, Y/N. Don’t act like it’s a hardship.”
You gasped in mock offense, pressing a hand dramatically to your chest. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Your Majesty. Next time I’ll sleep under your desk so I can be ‘available’ twenty-four-seven.”
He grinned. “Don’t tempt me. I might just make that official policy.”
You threw your clipboard onto his desk with a loud thud. “You’re lucky I haven’t quit yet, Mr. Jeon.”
“And you’re lucky I haven’t fired you,” he shot back easily, but his tone was almost gentle, like he was enjoying this way too much.
Before you could fire back, he reached into his desk drawer, pulled out a sleek black card, and tossed it onto your clipboard with a casual flick. It landed with a soft thwack, gleaming under the fluorescent lights.
No limit. No PIN.
The kind of card that could buy a small country.
You raised a brow. “What’s this? A bribe so I don’t strangle you?”
“My grandmother’s birthday is in few weeks,” he said, leaning back again, hands behind his head like he was posing for a magazine. “Buy something nice for her.”
You stared at the card, then at him, then back at the card. “Would you care to explain, Mr. Jeon? Like, what specifically she likes?”
He shrugged, that infuriating smirk still plastered on his face. “She likes everything. Not picky. Unlike some people around me.”
You clenched your jaw so hard you were surprised your teeth didn’t crack. “Then buy it yourself.”
“Well,” he said casually, standing and buttoning his suit jacket — “she wants me to bring her a girl to marry, but I’m not interested. So for now, I’m leaving the rest to you.”
You blinked, then scoffed, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “You... You know I can’t buy you that from a store, right?”
He smirked, stepping closer, voice dropping into that low, teasing tone that made your stomach flip despite your best efforts. “And you know you should’ve been a stand-up comedian instead of my assistant, arguing with me all day.”
You rolled your eyes so hard you were surprised they didn’t fall out of your head. “Fine. I’ll get your grandma a gift. But don’t blame me if she doesn't like it.”
“Oh, you'll figure it out,” he said, his voice dropping just enough to make your stomach do a weird little flip. “You always do, don’t you? You always manage to impress people… somehow.”
That tone. That smug, cocky, dangerously flirty tone.
You grabbed the card and your clipboard, turning on your heel before he could see the flush creeping up your neck.
“You’re insufferable,” you muttered, storming out of his office.
“You too, Y/N!” he called after you, and you could hear the grin in his voice.
The boutique looked like the box of glittery things.
Chandeliers dangled like upside-down diamonds, soft jazz hummed from hidden speakers, and the scent of lavender and money hung in the air. You walked in with Jungkook’s black card in your purse. You clutched the purse, like it might bite you.
Your heels clicked against the marble floor as you wandered past rows of silk scarves and pearl necklaces, trying to figure out what would Jungkook’s grandmother even like?
Jewelry? Perfume? A nice scarf?
Something elegant? Something sentimental?
You sighed, dragging a hand through your hair. “He could’ve at least given me a hint,” you muttered under your breath. You had no idea, and the fact that he’d dumped this task on you without a single useful detail made you want to strangle him.
A salesgirl approached, her smile polite but her eyes sharp, like she was sizing you up. “Would you like to see something specific?” she asked, her tone clipped.
You offered a tight smile, still scanning the shelves.
“Just looking for now.”
The girl tilted her head, her polite mask slipping ever so slightly.
“Right. Well, take your time,” she said, and you could hear the unsaid ‘don’t touch anything expensive’ buried in her tone.
You ignored her, picking up a delicate silver bracelet and turning it over in your hands. It was pretty, but was it grandma pretty? You sighed, setting it down, and moved to another display.
“Are you sure you’re not just… browsing?” the salesgirl asked suddenly, her tone sharper now, laced with condescension.
You froze.
Then slowly turned toward her. “Excuse me?”
She shrugged, crossing her arms. “It’s just that we’ve had people come in to… you know, window shop. Enjoy the free air conditioning.” Her smile was sugarcoated poison.
Your temper flared.
You spun around, pulling the black card from your purse and holding it up like a weapon. “I can buy the entire store if I want.”
That should’ve shut her up. Instead, she blinked, then snatched the card right from your hand.
You gasped. “Hey!”
She flipped it over, her eyes narrowing. “Jeon Jungkook?” she read aloud, then looked up with a snide little smirk. “You stole this, didn’t you?”
The world seemed to still for a second. “What? No! Why would I—That’s not—”
“You’re not the first,” she interrupted, voice rising just enough to draw attention from another employee. “People try this all the time. Flashing a fancy card, pretending it’s theirs. Pathetic.”
Your pulse spiked. Heat crawled up your neck. “I didn’t steal it,” you said, louder now, your voice trembling despite your best attempt to stay calm. “He’s my—” you swallowed hard, not knowing how to continue “—he’s my fiancé. I’m here to buy a gift for his grandmother.”
The salesgirl blinked once, then burst into an laughter.
“Jeon Jungkook? The CEO of Jeon Corp? Him?” Her eyes flicked over you again, every inch of disbelief obvious. “You expect me to believe that?”
“Believe whatever you want,” you snapped, your palms clammy. “But I’m not leaving without that card.”
“Oh, I don’t think so.” She tucked it behind the counter. “You’ve got sixty minutes before I call the police. Prove you’re not a thief.”
Your breath hitched. Sixty minutes.
Sixty minutes to call your arrogant, chaos-brained boss and beg him to save you from a misunderstanding that was entirely his fault.
You grabbed your phone, your fingers trembling as you scrolled through your contacts. When his name popped up - Mr. Pain in My Existence (JJK) — you hit call before you could overthink.
He picked up on the second ring, voice low and smooth. “Y/N? What is it? Miss me already?”
“Mr. Jeon, please come here within sixty minutes,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady.
“What?” A pause, then a chuckle. “I’m in a meeting, Y/N. What’s this about?”
You lowered your voice, glancing at the salesgirl who was glaring holes through you from distance. “Please,” you said, your voice dropping to a desperate whisper, “or I’ll be in jail.”
A beat of silence. Then: “Wait... what?”
You explained everything in a rush, the misunderstanding, the accusation, and, yes, the part where you accidentally called him your fiancé because your brain was too panicked to come up with a better lie.
By the time you finished, he was laughing.
Actually laughing. You could hear it, low and rich, through the phone. “You told her I’m your fiancé? God, Y/N, that’s—”
“Not funny!” you snapped. “Mr. Jeon, I am freaking out here. Do you want your assistant in prison?”
“Alright, alright,” he said, and you heard the rustle of papers, the creak of his chair. “I’m coming. Don’t get arrested before I get there.”
He hung up, and you spent the next twenty-eight minutes pacing the boutique, avoiding the salesgirl’s smug glare. Every time you glanced at her, she raised an eyebrow, as if daring you to run.
And then—twenty-eight minutes later, the boutique door opened.
The air shifted.
Even the background music seemed to hush. Jungkook walked in like he owned not just the store, but the world. His suit was sharp, his expression unreadable, and his dark eyes immediately locked on you.
The relief that flooded you was instant.
But you barely had time to exhale before he crossed the floor in long, confident strides. Without a word, he slid an arm around your waist and pulled you flush against his side.
Your breath caught, your brain short-circuited.
His cologne—woodsy, expensive, him, wrapped around you, and your heart started pounding so loud you were sure the entire store could hear it.
“Hi,” he said smoothly, flashing his most charming corporate smile at the stunned salesgirl. “I’m Jeon Jungkook. I heard there was some… confusion about my fiancée?” He tightened his hold around your waist. “My soon-to-be Mrs. Jeon?”
Your knees almost gave up.
The salesgirl’s face turned pale. “I... I’m so sorry, Mr. Jeon, I didn’t—”
“Oh, you didn’t, huh?” he said, tone light but laced with steel. “Because it sounded to me like you were accusing my fiancée of theft.”
Before she could stammer an apology, a familiar voice cut through the air.
“Jungkook?”
You both turned.
An elegant woman stood near the entrance, silver hair, kind eyes behind spectacles, pearls around her neck, and an unmistakable aura of warmth and authority.
Jungkook’s grip on you tightened. His jaw flexed.
“Grandma,” he said, and you could hear the “oh-no” in his tone.
Her smile was radiant. “You’re finally fulfilling my wish?”
Your heart jumped into your throat. The room tilted. Oh, no.
She reached you in seconds, taking your hands in hers, her touch soft, her eyes twinkling. “Oh, sweetheart,” she said, voice warm as tea. “You’re lovely. Are you really my Jungkook’s fiancée?”
You froze, your brain screaming.
You opened your mouth, but before you could say a word—
“Yes,” the salesgirl blurted nervously. “They were just here to buy your gift, Mrs. Jeon.”
You and Jungkook both snapped your heads toward her, glaring daggers that could’ve turned her into dust.
“Oh, was it supposed to be a surprise?” Grandma asked, beaming.
“Apparently,” Jungkook muttered through clenched teeth, still smiling tightly.
“Oh, no need for gifts, darling,” Grandma said, squeezing your hands again. “He’s already given me the best one.” Her gaze softened. “You.”
You wanted to melt into the floor.
She glanced at Jungkook, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Haven’t you, Jungkook?”
You forced a smile, your heart hammering as you leaned into Jungkook’s side, playing along. “I—um, yes, we’re… very happy.” Jungkook’s hand tightened on your waist, and you could feel the heat radiating from him.
He cleared his throat, his voice a little too bright. “Let’s go home, Grandma.”
“Uh-uh,” she said, wagging a finger at him.
“I just arrived for shopping in my own car, Jungkook. Be a gentleman and drop your girl home safely.” You nearly choked, and Jungkook’s jaw twitched, but he nodded. “Of course.”
As Grandma left for another store, waving cheerfully, you felt the weight of the moment settle over you like a storm cloud.
The salesgirl handed you the black card back, muttering apologies, and you grabbed a random scarf off the rack, tossing it at her to ring up just so you could get out of there.
The car ride was silent, the city lights streaking past as Jungkook drove, one hand on the wheel, the other resting on his thigh. You stared out the window, clutching the gift bag with the scarf, your mind replaying the absolute chaos of the last hour.
His jaw was relaxed, lips curved in that frustratingly calm way, as if the last hour hadn’t been a complete emotional train wreck.
Finally, he broke the silence.
“Well,” he said, his tone deceptively casual, “that went better than I expected.”
You blinked, turning to stare at him. “Better? Mr. Jeon, your grandmother now thinks we’re engaged. Engaged!”
He didn’t even flinch. Just glanced at you, the corner of his mouth twitching in amusement. “Be my fiancée.”
Your brain short-circuited. “I’m sorry, what?”
He kept his eyes on the road, tone maddeningly calm. “You heard me. Be my fiancée. Just for a few months. I’ll tell her we broke up later.”
You gawked at him. “You’ve lost your mind. Officially.”
He let out a small, humourless laugh. “Probably. But you’re the only one crazy enough to handle it.”
You crossed your arms tightly, turning toward the window. “Absolutely not. I’m not faking a relationship with my boss just because you can’t tell your sweet grandmother you’re emotionally unavailable.”
That earned you a sideways glance.
His expression softened, the smirk fading into something almost sincere. “Y/N,” he said quietly, “you didn’t see her face. She hasn’t smiled like that in years. You… made her happy. I can’t take that away from her.”
Something in your chest twisted, just a little. You hated that he could do that—say something so genuinely heartfelt it slipped right past your defenses before you could build new ones.
You sighed, sinking lower into your seat. “You’re guilt-tripping me. That’s dirty.”
He grinned. “Is it working?”
You turned to him, arching a brow. “What’s in it for me?”
His smirk deepened, eyes glinting. “A raise. A bonus. And the first genuine ‘please’ you’ll ever hear from me.”
You gasped dramatically. “A please? Oh my god, Mr. Jeon, are you feeling okay? Should I check your temperature?”
“Don’t push it,” he said, fighting a laugh.
“Oh, I’m pushing it,” you teased, leaning closer, your voice dropping into a playful whisper. “If I’m going to pretend to be your fiancée, you’re saying ‘please’ every time you ask for coffee. Every. Time.”
He groaned, dragging a hand through his hair. “You’re enjoying this too much.”
“Maybe,” you said, grinning. “But come on, let me hear it. Convince me.”
His fingers tightened around the steering wheel.
For a moment, the car filled with thick silence, the kind that made your pulse race just a little faster. Then, through gritted teeth but with that mischievous lilt in his voice—he said, “Please, Y/N, be my fake fiancée.”
You pretended to think. “Hmm. Not bad. Still a little stiff. Try it again with more sincerity.”
He turned to you then, and that glint in his eyes changed—darkened, teasing but sharp. “Careful,” he murmured. “You might start liking how I sound when I beg.”
You froze, your heart skipping a dangerous beat, and you instantly looked away, pretending to fix the scarf in the gift bag. “You’re insufferable.”
He chuckled, the sound low and warm. “You walked right into that one.”
You huffed, though your lips twitched in a reluctant smile. “You really think your grandma will buy this? Us?”
He shrugged, glancing at you with a faint smile that made your chest feel weirdly tight. “She already did.”
You bit your lip, your reflection in the window staring back at you with wide, conflicted eyes. “You owe me a big one, Mr. Jeon.”
“Fine,” he said, that familiar cocky grin returning. “But don’t think I won’t find ways to make you regret this.”
“Oh, please,” you said, rolling your eyes but grinning despite yourself. “Bring it on.”
His laughter filled the car, soft but genuine this time, the kind that reached his eyes. And for a brief, fleeting second, just before the next streetlight flashed across his face—you wondered if pretending to love Jeon Jungkook might turn out to be a much bigger problem than you’d bargained for.
The next morning, the office exploded.
One minute, you were quietly taking notes in a meeting. The next, Jungkook casually dropped a bomb like it was nothing.
“…and my fiancée will be joining me for the annual charity event,” he said, pointing in your direction, voice smooth as ever.
My fiancée.
The words hit like a thunderclap. The room went dead silent. Pens stopped scratching, keyboards stopped clicking, even the air conditioner seemed to pause.
You froze mid-note, your pen hanging in the air as every single head turned toward you. Their gazes burned holes in your skin. Somewhere in the back, someone audibly gasped.
You forced a smile, heart thundering, while Jungkook looked maddeningly calm beside you. His hand came to rest on your shoulder—steady, warm, possessive.
“We kept it quiet for a while,” he added, with a small shrug. “We wanted to focus on work first.”
You wanted to strangle him.
Or possibly throw him out the nearest window.
By lunchtime, the entire building was buzzing. Whispers were running faster than Office internet speed.
“Did you hear? The CEO’s been secretly engaged this whole time!”
“I knew it! They bicker like an old married couple. Only she has audacity to talk like that to CEO.”
“I ship it so hard.”
You overheard one such comment by the coffee machine and nearly choked on your drink. When you glanced at Jungkook across the room, he had the audacity to wink.
Oh, he was loving this.
But the real chaos wasn’t in the office gossip. It was in the moments between you both. The ones that didn’t feel so fake anymore.
You went everywhere together now—business dinners, charity galas, even a freaking ribbon-cutting ceremony. Jungkook’s hand was always on your back, always guiding you, always just a little too close.
“Smile, fiancée,” he’d murmur near your ear, his breath warm against your skin. “Cameras are watching.”
You’d roll your eyes and do it, because yes, cameras were watching and because if you didn’t, he’d whisper something flirty and smug enough to make you blush in front of the whole world.
The bickering between you began to change. It wasn’t sharp anymore.
It was… charged.
Every argument felt like it might end with his lips on yours instead of another snarky comeback.
One night, after a long charity gala, he offered you a ride home. The city shimmered outside the windows, the hum of the tires filling the quiet. Jungkook’s hand rested on the gearshift, and every time he changed gears, his fingers brushed your thigh.
Lightly. Casually. Or maybe not casually at all.
The first time, you thought it was nothing. The second time, your pulse jumped. The third, you snapped.
“You’re doing that on purpose,” you said, turning to face him, your voice a mixture of accusation and disbelief.
He glanced at you, lips twitching. “Doing what?”
You gestured to his hand. “That. You keep touching me.”
He chuckled, the sound low and dangerous, eyes flicking from the road to your legs. “Maybe you’re sitting too close, fiancée. Ever think of that?”
You scoffed, crossing your arms, which, unfortunately, made your dress ride up just a little. His gaze flicked down for half a second before he caught himself, his jaw tightening.
“Oh, please,” you said, leaning closer, voice teasing but breathless. “Don’t act like you’re not enjoying this.”
His hand stilled on the gearshift, knuckles brushing your thigh again. This time, it lingered. “Careful,” he murmured, his voice lower now—rough, velvety. “You keep saying things like that, and I might think you are the one enjoying it more.”
Your breath hitched. You hated that you did.
The car suddenly felt smaller, the air thicker, his scent, curling around you like smoke. You pressed your thighs together under your dress, trying to stay composed.
“Eyes on the road, Mr. Jeon,” you managed, though your voice came out softer than intended.
He smirked, a glint of amusement in his dark eyes. “Don’t worry, Miss Almost-Jeon. I can multitask.”
You were about to retort when he suddenly pulled over, the car rolling to a smooth stop. Your heart stopped.
He leaned across the console, close. Too close.
In a panic, you gasped and squeezed your eyes shut, your hands flying up to brace against his chest, expecting, well, you weren’t sure what you were expecting, but the sudden closeness made your pulse race.
His face was right there, his breath brushing your lips. Every nerve in your body was on alert.
Then—click.
You opened one eye. He was smirking, seatbelt in hand.
“Really?” he said, voice soft and teasing. “Forgot to buckle up? What am I gonna do with you, fiancée? Were you trying to get me fined by the traffic police?”
Your face burned. “I was... distracted.”
His gaze darkened, slow and deliberate as it trailed over you. “By what, exactly?” His voice dipped lower. “Me?”
Your breath caught. “You wish,” you muttered, shoving his shoulder lightly.
He laughed quietly, leaning back in his seat, starting the car again. “Keep pretending, sweetheart,” he murmured, his tone darkly amused. “We both know who’s distracted here.”
You didn’t respond. You couldn’t. The air between you was too heavy and thick with something that wasn’t supposed to exist.
And it only got worse.
At a company dinner later that week, you wore a sleek black dress that hugged every curve. Jungkook hadn’t said a word about it, but his eyes said plenty.
They lingered. Too long. Too often.
In the middle of dinner, your necklace clasp slipped. You reached up to fix it, but before you could, Jungkook leaned in—smooth, confident, dangerous.
“Hold still,” he murmured, his breath ghosting over your neck. His fingers brushed the back of your skin, slow and sure, the contact featherlight yet charged.
You went completely still. His touch trailed along your nape as he fastened the clasp, his fingertips tracing down just a fraction too far before pulling away.
“There,” he said, his voice a husky whisper meant only for you. “Wouldn’t want you looking anything less than perfect, fiancée.”
Your pulse was pounding so hard it felt visible. “I could’ve done it myself,” you managed, though your voice trembled.
“Maybe,” he said, leaning back with that damned smirk. “But it’s more fun this way.”
Your fingers tightened on your napkin, trying to ground yourself. “You’re enjoying this too much.”
His gaze caught yours across the candlelit table, eyes dark, steady, unreadable. “And you’re not?”
The air between you crackled. Every look, every touch, every whispered “fiancée” felt heavier now.
It wasn’t just an act anymore.
You told yourself it was all pretend. That the smiles were rehearsed, the touches staged, the heat in your chest a side effect of the game you were playing.
But deep down, you knew—you weren’t acting anymore.
It all snapped one night.
You’d just came for a business dinner with a potential client from Japan. Your head pounding, your smile forced, and your heart still racing from what had happened. Jungkook had possessively claimed you as his in front of the client.
Not fake. Not for show. Real.
The client, who’d been hitting on you all night at a dinner, had backed off immediately after Jungkook, coldly warned, “She’s my fiancée. Keep it professional.”
You didn’t even remember leaving the restaurant properly. All you could see was that smug, calm look on Jungkook’s face when he said it, like he had every right in the world to claim you.
So, that night, you stormed straight to his penthouse, heels clicking angrily against the marble floors of the building lobby.
You didn’t even care that it was almost midnight.
You just kept hearing that word echoing in your head—fiancée.
You didn’t bother knocking politely—you pounded on the door, your fists echoing through the hallway.
When he opened it, he looked like sin. His black dress shirt was half-unbuttoned, sleeves rolled up, hair slightly messy like he’d just run his hands through it.
“You had no right to say that!” you burst out, shoving past him into the room.
He didn’t stop you. He just leaned against the door after closing it, arms crossed, eyes following you. “He was flirting with my fiancée.”
The word fiancée rolled off his tongue too easily. Too possessively.
“I’m not your fiancée, Mr. Jeon!” you shouted, your voice breaking halfway through. “This is fake! You can’t just... just claim things like that!”
He didn’t move for a moment. Then he pushed off the door, walking toward you slowly. Each step echoed, heavy and deliberate.
You took a step back.
Then another.
But he didn’t stop until your back hit the cold glass window, the chill ran through your clothes. His body was close—too close and his hands came up to rest on either side of your head, trapping you there.
The air between you went still.
“Fake?” he murmured, voice low and rough. “Then why do you keep looking at me like that?”
You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest. “Like what?”
“Like you want me to make it real.”
The words hit you like a punch to the gut. His eyes burned into yours, dark and intense, flicking down to your lips, then back up again. Your breath hitched when he leaned in slightly, the warmth of him making you tremble.
“You wanted me to play pretend,” he said quietly, his voice brushing against your ear. “So why do you act like you don’t love it when I touch you?”
“Jungkook…” you whispered, your voice shaking, though you didn’t know if it was anger, fear, or want that made it tremble.
He leaned in just a little, his breath ghosting over your lips. “Say it’s not true,” he whispered. “Say you don’t feel it too.”
Your throat went dry.
You could smell him—cedar, soap, and something warmer, darker. Every nerve in your body felt alive, trembling with tension.
“Jungkook…” you whispered, your voice softer now, unsure.
“Hmm?” His tone was teasing, but his gaze wasn’t. His chest rose and fell too fast, and you could see the pulse in his jaw as he clenched it.
You tried to push him away, palms against his chest, but your fingers curled into his shirt instead, holding on. The fabric was warm under your hands, and his heart was pounding, fast and hard, just like yours.
“Don’t do this,” you breathed, though your voice shook.
He leaned closer, his forehead almost brushing yours. “Then stop me.”
You didn’t. You couldn’t.
His eyes searched yours. Not teasing this time. Not smug. Just raw, vulnerable, and so full of want it made your knees weak.
And maybe that’s why you did it.
Maybe you were tired of pretending.
You grabbed his shirt and pulled him down to you. Your lips met his—hard, desperate, angry. His hands immediately moved, one sliding to your waist, the other to your jaw, tilting your face just enough to deepen the kiss.
The window was cold behind you. His body was hot against yours. Every breath, every touch, every small sound between you felt like the world tilting off its axis.
When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, both of you breathing hard. His thumb brushed your cheek, slow and tender in contrast to the chaos between you.
“Still fake?” he whispered, voice rough.
You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. Because you weren’t sure anymore.
“Y/N,” he whispered against your lips, his breath warm and shaky. His forehead rested against yours. “Is this okay? Tell me you want this.”
You didn’t even need to think. Your heart answered before your voice did. “Yes,” you breathed. “I want you.”
That was all it took.
He kissed you again, deeper this time, his hands roaming your body as he guided you away from the glass window, steering you toward his desk. The back of your thighs hit the edge, and he lifted you onto it, papers scattering to the floor, his lips never leaving yours.
Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging slightly, and he groaned a low, delicious sound that sent a shiver through you.
“Fuck, Y/N,” he murmured, his voice rough and full of want.
His hands slid under your skirt, brushing against the lace of your underwear. He paused again, eyes meeting yours—checking, asking silently.
You nodded, your pulse racing.
His lips curved into a smirk, that familiar cocky confidence returning back, but his gaze was softer now, like you meant something more than just the moment.
He kissed you again, slower and gentler, savoring it, his tongue moving against yours in a way that made your head spin.
You could taste the faint trace of whiskey on his breath, feel the heat of his skin against yours, and it was overwhelming in the best way.
“Tell me to stop,” he whispered near your ear, his voice trembling slightly despite his control. “If you say stop, I’ll stop.”
“Don’t you dare,” you whispered back, breathless.
He chuckled, that low, sinful sound that made your stomach twist, and then he dropped to his knees in front of you.
The sight made your breath hitch—Jeon Jungkook, on his knees, between your legs, his eyes dark and hungry but full of something tender too. He pushed your skirt up and kissed the inside of your thigh slowly, like he wanted to worship you, not just touch you.
Then, he tugged your panties down.
“Jungkook,” you whimpered, gripping the desk for balance.
He didn’t make you wait.
His mouth found you, his tongue moving with deliberate care at first—soft, teasing strokes that made your toes curl. Then he changed the pace, faster, deeper, knowing exactly what you needed without you saying a word.
Your moans filled the room.
Every movement of his tongue, every flick, every gentle suck had you trembling. When he slid his fingers inside you, curling them just right, the pleasure hit so hard it stole your breath.
You fell apart beneath him, your body shaking, your mind blank, his name spilling from your lips over and over.
Even then, he didn’t stop right away. He slowed down, easing you through it until you were gasping softly, your hands buried in his hair.
When he finally stood, his lips were swollen, his eyes dark and soft all at once. He leaned in and kissed you again, slow and deep, letting you taste yourself on his lips.
“Bedroom,” he whispered against your mouth, voice rough with need and affection. “I’m not making love to you on a desk.”
You nodded, still dazed, and he lifted you off the desk like you weighed nothing. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, and you could feel his heartbeat pounding against your chest as he carried you through the quiet penthouse.
His lips never left your skin.
He kissed down your neck, biting and sucking softly until you let out a small whimper, your nails digging into his shoulders. Every step he took made your body tighten with anticipation.
The bedroom was dim, bathed in the golden glow of a single lamp. Everything in it—sleek furniture, dark sheets, the faint scent of him, felt intimate, private, his.
He set you down gently on the edge of the bed, but the look in his eyes was anything but gentle. It was dark, wanting, and filled with something deeper he didn’t dare name.
Your fingers trembled as you reached for his belt, fumbling to undo it. You just needed to feel him, to make this moment real. But before you could, he caught your hands, his palms warm over yours.
“Let me,” he said softly, his voice low and rough.
You froze, watching as he unbuckled his belt and pushed his slacks down. Your breath hitched. The sight of him—bare, hard, ready.
It made your pulse race.
Without a word, your hands moved almost instinctively. You tugged at the hem of his shirt, fingers trembling slightly, and he lifted his arms, letting it slip off. The sight of his toned chest, the way his muscles flexed as he moved, made your cheeks heat up.
He reached for you, hands pressing into your sides as he started sliding your shirt over your shoulders. You gasped softly as it came off, his fingers brushing against your skin, sending shivers down your spine.
“God, you’re… perfect,” he murmured, voice low and rough, eyes dark as he took in every inch of you.
Your fingers fumbled with your bra straps, heart racing, until it finally slipped off, leaving you bare against him. You shivered, both from the cool air and the intensity of his gaze, your bodies mere inches apart.
He leaned down, brushing his lips over your shoulder, teasing, tasting, his hands roaming over your bare skin.
You reached out for his cock, but he caught your wrist, pushing you gently back onto the bed.
“Not so fast,” he murmured, teasing smile curling at his lips as his hands slid up your thighs. “You’re not the one in charge here.”
You couldn’t help the smirk that spread across your face. “Oh, really?” you teased, propping yourself up on your elbows. “Because I remember you saying something about begging.”
He raised a brow, intrigued, but you leaned closer, your lips brushing the shell of his ear as you whispered, “You told me, ‘Careful, you might start liking how I sound when I beg.’ So prove it, Jungkook. Let’s hear it.”
He chuckled—low, dark, and full of mischief.
“You want me to beg, Y/N? That’s cute.” He kissed you, rough and fleeting, his breath hot against your lips as he pulled back. “But you’re the one who’s been trembling every time I touch you. Maybe you should be the one begging.”
Your laugh came out breathy and defiant.
You pushed at his chest until he let himself fall back, and you climbed on top of him, straddling his hips. His eyes widened just slightly, his hands instinctively gripping your waist.
“Oh, I don’t think so, Mr. Jeon,” you whispered, your voice low and teasing. You ran your hands across his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin, the way his breath stuttered beneath your touch.
“You started this,” you said, leaning down until your lips hovered above his, “so let’s see how good you sound when you’re desperate.”
The smirk faded from his lips and replaced by something raw and electric. The air between you felt alive, pulsing, full of unspoken words and barely contained emotion.
And when he finally pulled you down to kiss him again, it wasn’t just desire anymore. It was something deeper.
Something that felt a lot like surrender.
You hovered over him for a moment, letting the tip of him brush against your slick entrance. Slowly, deliberately, you teased him, rolling your hips just enough to feel him twitch, your wetness sliding over him without fully taking him in.
He groaned, a low, rough sound, his hands tightening around your waist. “Y/N… don’t… stop teasing me like that,” he groaned, voice strained.
“Oh? You mean this?” you murmured, circling your hips just enough to make him shiver, watching his jaw tighten and his breath hitch. “You’re gonna have to beg if you want me to actually—” you paused, letting the tip of him slip just slightly inside, “—taking you in properly.”
He let out a strangled laugh, shaking his head, but didn’t beg. His hands, slipping from your waist to your ass, gripping them tight. “I… I don’t… beg... easily,” he rasped, eyes dark, desperate. “You know that.”
You smirked, letting your slick entrance brush him teasingly again. “Not begging, huh? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this frustrated, Mr. Jeon, not even in Boardrooms” you teased, leaning down to whisper in his ear, “Come on… say it. ‘Please, Y/N…’”
He groaned, his hips jerking involuntarily, struggling to hold himself back. “God… Y/N… stop… stop driving me crazy…” His voice was ragged, desperate, but he still didn’t give in.
You laughed softly, biting your lip, enjoying the way he was practically losing control. “Mm, not yet… not until I hear you,” you whispered, letting just a little more of him slip inside, enough to make him gasp and tremble.
“Y/N… please… I—fuck, I can’t… you’re killing me,” he groaned, voice cracking, but still, no proper begging.
You leaned closer, lips brushing his, teasing, smiling against his skin. “Fine,” you promised softly, “but you’ll have to earn it first.”
And with that, you slowly sank down, inch by inch, savoring the way he filled you, the stretch exquisite, and his hands clutching your hips like he might explode if you moved any faster.
“Fuck,” he muttered, his voice strained as you started to move, rolling your hips in a slow, torturous rhythm. “You’re gonna kill me, Y/N.”
“Good,” you said, leaning down to kiss him, your lips brushing his as you spoke. “Now beg... Mr. CEO.”
He laughed, the sound rough and broken, but his hands tightened on your hips, urging you to move faster. “Not a chance, fiancée,” he said, his voice teasing despite the way his breath hitched. “You’re the one riding me. Seems like you’re already begging for it.”
You smirked, picking up the pace, your movements deliberate and controlled, savoring the way he responded. His eyes fluttered shut, his lips parting as he fought to keep his composure. You felt him tense beneath you, his hands gripping your hips tighter with every slow, torturous roll.
“Oh, come on,” you teased, your voice low and playful, leaning down to brush your lips against his ear. “Say it. Say, ‘please, Y/N, don’t stop.’ I want to hear it.”
He groaned, thrusting up instinctively, making you gasp as pleasure coursed through both of you. “You’re playing a dangerous game,” he growled, one hand sliding up your back to pull you closer, his lips brushing your jaw.
Then, realizing just how much he was enjoying it, a wicked thought crossed your mind. Slowly, you let your movements falter, easing back, then stopped completely. Your slick warmth still wrapped around him, but you froze, letting him squirm beneath you.
“Mm?” you murmured, tilting your head, watching his chest rise and fall faster, his grip on your hips tightening. “Not moving anymore. Don’t you want me to?”
His breath hitched, his jaw tightening as he tried to hide his desperation. “Y/N… please…” he started, voice rough, faltering under the strain. “Don’t… stop…”
You chuckled softly, leaning down to whisper against his lips, letting your breath tease him. “That’s better… but I want more. Beg me like you mean it, Mr. Jeon.”
His hands fisted in your hair, his body trembling with need as he finally gave in. “Please… Y/N… please don’t stop… I need you… fuck, I need you to move!”
You laughed breathlessly, satisfied, and slowly started moving onto him again, the sound melting into a moan as he hit that perfect spot.
“That’s a start,” you said softly. “But you can do better.”
He groaned, holding your hips tighter as you rode him faster, both of you losing control together. “Fuck, Y/N, please,” he finally gasped. “Don’t stop. You feel so fucking good.”
You smiled through the pleasure, leaning down to kiss him, your mouths crashing together, messy and desperate. “That’s what I wanted to hear.”
In the next second, he flipped you onto your back, his body pressing you into the mattress. His eyes burned into yours as he thrust deep, hard enough to make you cry out. “You shouldn’t have made me beg,” he said, voice low and rough. “Now I’m not stopping.”
“Then don’t,” you breathed, wrapping your legs around him.
His mouth found your neck, sucking and biting as he fucked you, each thrust hitting that spot inside you that made you see stars. The bed creaked beneath you, the headboard knocking against the wall as you lost yourself in him, in the heat, the need, the way he claimed you.
“You feel so fucking good,” he growled, his voice rough, almost broken. “So fucking perfect.”
You couldn’t speak, could barely think, your body consumed by the heat of him, the way he filled you, claimed you. Your hands roamed his back, nails scratching, and he groaned, his thrusts growing harder, faster.
When you came again, it was with a scream, your body clenching around him so tightly he cursed, his own release following moments later. He buried his face in your neck, his breath ragged, his body trembling against yours.
For a moment, neither of you moved, the only sound your heavy breathing and the faint hum of the city outside.
Then he kissed you, soft and slow, and it was different—tender, almost reverent.
“You’re… incredible,” he whispered against your lips, his voice low and awed. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt… anything like that before.”
You smiled, fingers tracing the line of his jaw, brushing his hair back gently. “You’re not so bad yourself,” you teased softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “Even when you’re all growls and groans… you’re still perfect.”
He pulled you a little closer, one arm wrapping around your waist, the other gently stroking your hair. “I could stay like this forever,” he said, voice husky but soft. “Just holding you. Feeling you. You make me feel… so alive.”
You smiled against him, letting your hands roam over his back, feeling the tension slowly melt away. He kissed your temple softly, humming, lips brushing your skin in gentle, lingering touches.
The morning after was soft and warm.
You woke up with his arm draped over your waist, his breath warm against the back of your neck, his body curled around yours like he was afraid you’d slip away.
For once, the world felt quiet, peaceful, like the chaos of the last few weeks had melted into something sweeter.
You shifted slightly, and he stirred, his arm tightening around you as he let out a sleepy hum. “Morning,” he mumbled, his voice low and hoarse, still thick with sleep.
You turned in his arms, facing him, and your heart did a little flip at the sight of him—hair mussed, eyes half-lidded, a soft smile tugging at his lips.
“Morning,” you said, your voice just as soft, a smile spreading across your face despite yourself.
He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face, his fingers lingering on your cheek. “You look cute like this,” he said, his voice teasing but warm. “All soft and not yelling at me for once.”
You laughed, swatting his chest lightly. “Don’t get used to it, Mr. Jeon. I’m still keeping score on those ‘pleases’ you owe me.”
He grinned, catching your hand and pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “I’ll say ‘please’ every damn day, hour, minute or second if it means I get to wake up like this.”
Your cheeks flushed, and you buried your face into his chest to hide it, but he wasn’t having it. He tugged you closer, rolling you onto your back so he could hover over you, his smile turning mischievous but still so achingly genuine.
“Stop hiding,” he said, his voice low as he leaned down to kiss your forehead, then your nose, then the corner of your mouth. “You’re stuck with me now, you know.”
You raised an eyebrow, trying to keep your voice steady despite the way his kisses were making your heart race. “Stuck with you? Sounds like a threat, Mr. Jeon.”
“Oh, it’s a promise,” he said, his lips brushing yours in a slow, lingering kiss that made your toes curl. “You’re mine, Y/N. No more pretending.”
You smiled against his lips, your hands sliding up his back to pull him closer. “Good,” you murmured. “Because I’m not letting you go either.”
He laughed, the sound warm and bright, and rolled onto his side, pulling you with him so you were tangled together again. “So,” he said, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your arm, “what now? Grandma’s party is in two days. You ready to keep up the fiancée act for her?”
You nodded, snuggling closer, your head resting against his chest. “Only if you keep saying ‘please’ for your coffee. I’m not letting that go.”
He chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Deal. But only because it’s you.”
The party was a blur of laughter, clinking glasses, and sparkling lights.
Grandma Jeon couldn’t stop showing you off, her hands tugging you around like you were her newest treasure. “Everyone, meet my grandson’s sweet fiancée!” she announced proudly, and you couldn’t stop smiling.
Your cheeks ached from grinning so much.
Jungkook stayed close to you the entire time, his hand resting lightly on your lower back. Every time you glanced at him, his eyes were fixed on you, not with his usual teasing smirk, but with something softer, warmer, more… real.
It made your stomach flutter.
At the dessert table, Grandma cornered you both, her eyes sparkling like champagne bubbles. She reached out, patting your cheek gently. “You’ve made my grandson human again,” she said, her voice full of pride and affection. “Thank you, dear.”
Heat rushed to your cheeks, and you looked down shyly.
Jungkook’s hand tightened slightly on your waist, his thumb brushing soothing circles against your side. He gave you a small, genuine smile—quiet, unassuming, but it made your heart swell.
Months later, you were back in office, pretending everything was the same. You went through his schedule, took notes, and argued over little things just like before.
But it wasn’t the same anymore.
The bickering was lighter now. The glances lasted longer. And every accidental touch made your heart race just a little bit faster.
He called you over to his desk, pointing at something on his laptop. You leaned in, ready to focus, until his fingers wrapped gently around your wrist.
“Y/N,” he said quietly. His voice wasn’t teasing this time.
It was calm… serious.
Your breath caught as he stood up. Slowly, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box. But before opening it, he reached into the other pocket and took out something shiny—a silver bracelet.
The same one you had secretly admired in that boutique weeks ago.
He took your hand, carefully sliding it onto your wrist. The cool metal brushed your skin, catching the light beautifully.
You stared at it, your throat tight. “How… how did you know?”
He gave a soft, shy smile, a rare sight on him.
“The salesgirl thought she fucked up so bad she might lose her job.” he said with a tiny laugh. “So, in her apology, she told me Mrs. Jeon—you—tried this on and seemed to like it but didn’t buy it. I figured it was perfect for you.”
Your chest ached in the best way, your eyes stinging a little. “You’re ridiculous,” you murmured, but your voice was full of warmth.
He chuckled, his eyes never leaving yours.
Then, before you could blink, he dropped to one knee and opened the velvet box. Inside was a simple, beautiful diamond ring that seemed to shine just for you.
“I said it once to save you. Then once to fool Grandma. But this time… I mean it. Be my fiancée,” he said, voice steady but full of emotion. “No pretending this time.”
Your heart stopped.
Tears welled in your eyes, spilling before you could stop them. “You’re still a smug jerk, Mr. Jeon,” you whispered, laughing softly through your tears.
He grinned, that same old smirk back on his face, but his eyes were full of love. “And you still drive me insane, Mrs. Almost-Jeon.”
You laughed again, nodding. “Yes.”
He slipped the ring onto your finger, the bracelet sparkling beside it, and then he stood, pulling you into a kiss that was soft, slow, and full of everything you hadn’t said yet.
The office, the city, the world—it all disappeared.
There was just you and him.
When you finally pulled back, you looked up at him with a playful smirk. “You know this means I’m never making your coffee again, until you say 'please', right?”
He laughed, his hand resting on your cheek as he kissed your forehead. “Deal,” he said softly. “As long as you’re mine.”
I’m greedy I know, I can’t help it, I am addicted to your writing. You always exceed expectations. AND I always get so excited when I see I’ve been tagged in post 😭🥹🫶🏼 You’re actually amazing 💜🥰🥹
Whenever you have time could I please request a story where Jungkook secretly likes Y/N but struggles to do anything about it. He’s mean to her? Not bcoz he doesn’t like her but because he uses it as a coping mechanism I dunno what I’m trying to say tbh. But he has a noona kink and thinks he might get rejected coz of age difference 🤷🏻♀️ until he finds one of his hyungs flirting with her. In my head y/ n is staff. He eventually hits breaking point and full goes for it. Love a bit of angst. Love a bit of feeling on edge. Maybe his hyung knew jungkook wouldn’t do anything about it until he felt he had competition?! In my head hyung is whoever you feel might fit this.
Thank you 💜💜💜💜
I'm not a Baby
Pairing: Idol!Jungkook x Staff!Reader
Genre: Rom-Com, Fluff, Angst, Smut (18+), Slow Burn, Noona Romance
Word Count: ~8k words Rating: 18+ | Minors DNI
Warnings: Explicit sexual content, jealousy, age gap insecurities, mild swearing, detailed intimate scenes, teasing, praise kink, Noona kink, oral sex (female receiving), passionate and emotional smut, fluff overload, rom-com chaos, and lots of pouting Jungkook (cause he is not a baby)
[MASTERLIST]
The dressing room was its usual circus—stylists darting around, foundation brushes flicking, staff shouting into headsets over the thump of bass bleeding through the walls.
You ran through the chaos with your clipboard like a commander, ticking tasks, giving quick instructions, balancing ten things at once.
And then your eyes found him.
Jeon Jungkook.
The Golden Maknae who drove Armys insane… but right now, he looked more like a sulky teenager than an idol. Sprawled across the couch, hoodie hood tugged low, one long leg hanging lazily over the armrest, thumbs tapping at his phone screen with far too much aggression.
His lips were pursed in the kind of pout that could end wars—and he knew it.
You couldn’t help yourself.
You laughed softly, leaned down, and ruffled his hair.
The strands slipped through your fingers like silk. “What's wrong kiddo? You’re so cute when you pout.”
His head snapped up instantly.
Those big doe eyes narrowed, his jaw clenched, like you’d just committed a grave sin. “Noona, stop.” His hand flew up, smoothing his hair back into place with unnecessary drama. “Ugh, now I'll have to fix it again.”
The sarcasm was sharp, practiced.
But the faint blush across his cheeks betrayed him.
“And stop calling me cute! I’m not a kid, noona!” he burst out, the words tumbling louder than he meant.
You grinned, unfazed. “Oh, come on, kid. Don't you love it?”
His pout deepened, eyes flashing with a mix of annoyance and something softer—something you couldn’t quite name. The storm behind them went unnoticed by you, but it roared in his chest.
“Tch. You think that’s funny?” he muttered, crossing his arms hard against his chest and slumping deeper into the couch cushions, the picture of bratty rebellion.
“Don’t you have someone else to baby?”
The words hit sharper than he intended, and the second they left his lips, regret prickled at the back of his throat. But instead of taking them back, he did what he always did—hid behind a dramatic exit.
He stormed off dramatically, sneakers squeaking against the floor.
But five minutes later, he slunk back into the dressing room, clutching your water bottle—the one you’d set down on the counter near the makeup kits and forgotten when you rushed out to check stage notes.
He didn’t look at you when he held it out, pout still present into his lips.
“You forgot this,” he muttered, shoving the bottle into your hand before retreating back to his corner like nothing had happened.
You shook your head, amused.
To you, it was just more bratty Jungkook antics.
To him, it was everything.
Because you didn’t know that his tantrums were love in disguise—confusing, clumsy, desperate.
Sarcasm was his shield.
Dramatic exits were his plea.
Every sulk, every snark, every stomp was his way of saying: Notice me differently. Don’t just see me as a kid. Please, see me as a man.
He had liked you from the very beginning—from the first time you walked into the BigHit office all confidence and professionalism, with that smile that made his chest feel too tight.
But every time you called him “kiddo” or patted his head, it was like you shoved him back into the “adorable dongsaeng” box.
It drove him insane.
So he coped with snarky remarks, exaggerated tantrums, and sulky moments, anything to mask the longing that threatened to spill over.
Few days later, when you were stacking water bottles backstage, Jungkook swaggered over—bucket hat, ripped jeans, trying way too hard to look casual.
You barely glanced up before asking. “Need something, Kid?”
The nickname hit him like a dart to the chest.
His jaw locked.
He shoved his hands into his pockets to hide their trembling. “Stop treating me like a puppy, noona,” he said, voice tight with mock annoyance. He spun on his heel and stomped away.
You didn’t miss the blush that crept up his neck.
Halfway down the hall, his sneaker snagged on untied laces. He stumbled, smacked a hand against the wall to steady himself, and hissed under his breath.
“Stupid.”
He kicked the ground, cheeks burning, not sure if he was angrier at you for making his heart race or at himself for caring so much.
Back in the dressing room, he folded himself into a corner.
Hood up, earphones in—but no music played.
His eyes were locked on you across the room. You handed Jin a water bottle, laughing at one of his terrible dad jokes, and Jungkook’s grip tightened around his phone until his knuckles turned white.
His chest twisted painfully.
He curled deeper into his hoodie, pretending to scroll, pretending not to sulk. He stayed that way until you finally tossed a granola bar his way.
“Eat something, sulky,” you teased with a wink.
He caught it midair, lips twitching against his will.
“I’m not sulky,” he muttered.
But the granola bar was demolished within seconds, and his stupid heart flipped anyway—because you noticed him.
Still, the ache lingered.
Dance practice was winding down when you leaned against the mirror, sipping your water. Jungkook’s shirt clung to him, sweat dripping down his jaw as he powered through the chorus with so much intensity it looked like he was trying to kill the air itself.
You chuckled. “Cute.”
He froze mid-step, whipping his head toward you. “Did you just—no. Noona, you did not just call that cute.”
You shrugged innocently. “It was very… spirited. Like a baby tiger.”
“A baby?!” he groaned, instantly sulking as he stomped over and jabbed the pause button. “You’re blind. That was hot. That was… manly.”
You tilted your head, fighting a grin.
“Mm, sure. Very manly how you almost fell during the spin.”
His ears went pink. “That was freestyle! You just don’t understand art.”
Later, in the gym, he loaded the barbell with way too many plates. His arms strained, jaw clenched, veins popping as he bench-pressed like a man possessed.
You wandered by and raised an eyebrow.
“You’re gonna pop a blood vessel. For what?”
“For you,” he grunted, then immediately turned red.
“I mean—not for you, just… for strength. For… health.” He struggled one last rep, then slammed the bar back with a loud clang, flexing his arms obnoxiously. “See? Not a kid.”
You clapped slowly. “Very impressive, muscle bunny.”
“Stop calling me those weird nicknames!” he wailed, grabbing his towel and storming off.
The next day, you asked him to help carry some stage equipment. Jungkook rolled his eyes, shouldering the heavy cases like it was nothing.
“You owe me for this,” he huffed, pretending it was a chore. But his forearms flexed, veins standing out as he walked ahead—and he kept sneaking glances to make sure you were watching.
You couldn’t help but giggle. “Wow… look at my cute little helper.”
He nearly tripped. “Helper?! Noona, do you even hear yourself?”
But every stomp, every flex, every petty little tantrum carried the same desperate message: See me. See what I can do.
See who I am. Don’t just see the kid. See your man.
A week later, Jin decided enough was enough.
Watching Jungkook pine in corners, stomp around like an angsty Disney prince, and nearly rupture his veins trying to look manly every time you called him “cute” was giving him wrinkles.
He couldn’t stand it anymore.
Time to stir the pot.
You were backstage, crouched on the floor, untangling the nest of cables, when Jin slid up beside you like he was auditioning for a drama. He leaned one elbow against the wall, tilted his head, and flashed his Worldwide Handsome smile.
“Y/N-ah,” he said, “you’re glowing today. Did you change your shampoo? Perfume? Aura?”
He sniffed the air dramatically. “Don’t tell me it’s love.”
You burst out laughing, nearly dropping the cable. “Jin-oppa, stop. Save the nonsense for your fancalls.”
“Oh, but I’m serious,” he gasped, clutching his chest like you’d stabbed him. “Do you know how many idols would kill for your attention? And here you are, ignoring my undying devotion.”
You swatted at him, still laughing.
Meanwhile, across the room, Jungkook froze mid-push-up.
His eyes flicked to Jin.
His jaw clenched.
And then—like the floor was his mortal enemy—he started doing push-ups louder, faster, harder. Each one shook the ground like a baby earthquake.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
The dumbbells rattled.
A water bottle rolled off a table.
Jimin yelled from another corner, “Yah, Jungkook, are you training for Sports exam practicals?!”
But Jungkook didn’t care.
His eyes were locked on Jin like he was trying to set him on fire with sheer willpower.
Jin, ever the opportunist, leaned closer to you, his stage-whisper not even pretending to be subtle: “Y/N, let me tell you a secret. You’d be perfect for my next MV Lead actress. Atleast I would be comfortable, shooting with you.”
You groaned, covering your face with your hand. “Oppa, please. You’re ridiculous.”
“Ridiculously handsome,” Jin corrected, wagging his eyebrows.
That’s when Jungkook dropped a dumbbell with the loudest clang possible.
The entire room jumped. Even a staff member screamed, “Oh my god, earthquake?!”
You looked up, startled. “Everything okay, JK?”
Jungkook stomped over to the water cooler, slammed the button like it owed him money, and chugged half a bottle in one go. Water dribbled down his chin, but he refused to wipe it, hoping maybe it looked sexy.
Spoiler: it didn’t.
“Fine,” he gritted out between gulps.
Jin smirked like a cartoon villain. Oh, this is too easy.
That night, Jungkook was sprawled across his bed like he’d been shot, scrolling through your Instagram for the 57th time. Every picture of you smiling with the members—especially Jin—stabbed him right in the gut.
“She laughed at his joke like that?” he muttered to no one. “His dad jokes? Are you kidding me? They are not even funny.”
He groaned, threw his phone, then immediately scrambled off the bed to grab it again. “Sorry, baby,” he whispered to the phone. “Didn’t mean it.”
Face buried in his pillow, he spiraled. She’s never gonna see me like that. I’m just kid to her. Her dongsaeng. Her stupid… sulky… puppy.
He was mid-self-pity spiral when his mattress dipped.
He peeked out from his hood—only to see Jin plopping himself down like he owned the place, holding a bag of shrimp chips.
“Jungkook-ah,” Jin said, munching loudly, “You’re pathetic.”
“Hyung!” Jungkook dragged his blanket over his head. “Get out!”
“Nope,” Jin popped the ‘p.’ “You’re either going to confess to Y/N, or I’m gonna keep flirting until your head explodes.”
The blanket flew off as Jungkook’s eyes bulged. “You wouldn’t.”
“Oh, I would.” Jin shoved another chip into his mouth, grinning like a funny Kdrama villain. “She might even say yes. I am Worldwide Handsome, you know.”
Jungkook hurled a pillow at him, but Jin caught it like a baseball, hugged it to his chest, and cooed, “Even your pillow loves me more.”
“HYUNG!” Jungkook groaned into his sheets.
“Come on, maknae,” Jin teased, dusting imaginary dirt off his sweater. “Get it together. She’s not gonna wait forever for you to stop sulking in corners. Do something before someone else do.”
Jungkook’s heart hammered.
For once, he didn’t even pout. Because Jin wasn’t bluffing.
The practice room was eerily quiet after rehearsal.
The music, the laughter of the members—all of it was gone. Just you and Jungkook left behind, tasked with cleaning up because Jin “suddenly asked Jungkook to help you out” and winked suspiciously on his way out.
The overhead lights buzzed faintly, casting long shadows across the mirrors. You stacked chairs in the corner, humming softly to yourself, but Jungkook hadn’t said a word in over twenty minutes.
He stood in the corner with a broom, sweeping the same area of floor again and again, his knuckles white on the handle.
“JK,” you called gently, setting a chair down. “You’ve been weird all night. What’s going on?”
He didn’t answer.
Just kept sweeping that same spot like it had personally wronged him.
Then, all at once, he dropped the broom.
The clatter echoed in the empty room.
When he turned toward you, your breath caught. His eyes weren’t the playful, pouty ones you were used to—they were stormy, glassy, burning with something raw.
“I can’t do this anymore,” he said, voice low, shaky.
Your heart skipped. “Do… what?”
He stepped closer, fists clenched at his sides. His breath hitched before the words tumbled out all at once, cracked and uneven.
“I can’t keep watching you laugh with hyung like that. I can’t take it when you call me kid, or puppy, or cute—like I’m some… harmless little thing. Y/N, I’ve liked you since the day you walked into this company. I’m not a kid. I’m not your dongsaeng. I want you to see me as a man.”
His voice cracked on the last word.
His chest rose and fell too quickly, and you realized with a shock—he was on the verge of crying.
Your heart twisted.
You always knew Jungkook was sensitive, but this—this was raw, vulnerable, and so painfully honest that it stole your breath. He held a special place in your heart, his sulks and pouts always made you smile, his presence precious in a way you couldn’t quite explain.
But dating him?
Being in a relationship?
That hadn’t crossed your mind—not until now, when his raw emotion laid bare before you.
“Jungkook…” you whispered, stepping toward him, but he shook his head, lifted a shaky hand like a stop sign.
“Don’t,” he choked out.
“Don’t say anything if you’re just gonna… let me down easy. I know I’m younger. I know you probably want someone like Jin-hyung—older, confident, someone who doesn’t pout like a kid every time you pat his head.”
His laugh was bitter, self-mocking. “But I can’t keep pretending I’m okay being your baby brother when every part of me wants more.”
You froze, his words crashing over you.
All those head pats, the teasing nicknames—you’d thought they were harmless, your way of showing affection. You never imagined how sharp they cut him.
“Jungkook,” you said softly, stepped closer again.
This time, he didn’t stop you.
Your voice trembled as you reached out, cupping his cheek. His skin was warm, his jaw tense beneath your touch. He flinched, just barely, like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to accept the comfort.
“I don’t like Jin like that,” you said softly.
“He’s a friend, that’s all. His jokes make me laugh, but that’s it. And I don’t care about age. Older, younger—it doesn’t matter. What matters is how someone makes me feel. And you—” your voice wavered, heart aching at his wide, searching eyes—
“You’ve always been precious to me. I teased you because your pouts are adorable. Because seeing you sulk makes my day brighter. I never thought it hurt you. I’m sorry for that. But I’ve never seen you as just a kid.”
His lips parted, breath shaky. “Then… why? Why do you always treat me like one?” His voice was small, broken, like he was terrified of the answer.
You smoothed your thumb along his cheekbone. “Because I didn’t realize how much you wanted me to see you differently. And because… maybe I was too scared to admit how much you mattered to me.”
The breath left him in a shaky rush.
His eyes darted to your lips, then back to your eyes, his chest heaving.
“Y/N… will you go out with me?” The words were barely audible, like speaking them out loud risked breaking them.
Your heart skipped.
You hadn’t thought about Jungkook like this before—not really—but now, with his emotions bared, the intensity in his gaze, it was impossible not to see it.
Impossible not to feel it.
You didn’t see the maknae, the sulky puppy—you saw a man trembling with love and fear, begging you to choose him.
“Yes,” you said, voice soft but sure. “I’ll go out with you.”
For a second, he just stared, stunned.
Then his lips parted, a shaky smile breaking through. His hands slid to your waist, tentative but eager, pulling you closer like he was terrified you’d disappear.
“Really?” he whispered, eyes wide, almost boyish in disbelief.
You nodded, smiling back, tears pricking your eyes. “Really.”
He didn’t kiss you—not yet.
Instead, he leaned forward until his forehead rested against yours, his eyes squeezed shut. His hands trembled on your waist, his breath came in uneven gasps, and you realized just how much courage it had taken for him to say all of this.
In the hush of the empty practice room, you stayed like that—quiet, close, steady—hearts pressed together, both of you holding onto the fragile beginning of something new.
The weeks after the confession were a whirlwind of shy glances, stolen moments, and tentative first dates that set your heart racing.
Jungkook was still Jungkook—bashful, a little awkward, but bolder now, especially when it was just the two of you.
Your first date was tucked away in a cozy little restaurant, warm lights glowing against the rain-streaked windows.
Jungkook arrived in a black button-up, sleeves rolled high, exposing veins that twitched with nerves as he smoothed the fabric down for the tenth time.
His shy smile was crooked but devastating.
“Noona, you look… wow,” he whispered, voice almost breaking on the word. His hand shot up to rub the back of his neck, his ears blazing red.
You teased him for fidgeting so much, and he pouted, muttering, “I’m trying, okay? This is hard. You make me fluster.”
But by the end of the night, when you reached across the table, his hand gripped yours with quiet desperation, thumb circling your skin like he was memorizing you.
His smile—soft, tender, almost boyish—glowed brighter than the candle flickering between you.
The second date was a late-night walk through a park, the city lights twinkling in the distance.
Jungkook had grown bolder.
When a cool breeze hit over your skin, he immediately pulled you into his side, slipping his jacket over your shoulders before you could protest.
“Noona,” he murmured, gaze lingering on you as though you might vanish, “you’re cold.”
You just chuckled and called his act, “Cute,” he huffed, “I’m not cute, noona.”
But the little pout on his lips only made you laugh.
That night, under the pale glow of a streetlamp, he tilted your chin up, voice trembling but steadying at the edges.
“Can I…?” he asked.
And when you nodded, his mouth touched yours, soft at first, then deeper, as if something inside him broke loose. His hands cupped your face like you were fragile, precious, but his groan when you tugged at his hair betrayed the hunger burning beneath.
“Noona,” he breathed, voice cracking with raw want, “you’re gonna ruin me.”
His kiss was messy, desperate, leaving you both dizzy, foreheads pressed together, hearts racing.
By the third date—movie night at your apartment—the room pulsed with quiet tension.
The film played on in the background, forgotten, the flicker of the screen painting shifting shadows across the room. You sat curled against the couch cushions, popcorn abandoned between you.
Jungkook’s hand brushed your thigh once, tentative.
But the longer you ignored it, the bolder he became—his palm settling, squeezing softly, then sliding higher, inch by inch.
You leaned close, your lips ghosting the shell of his ear.
“Behave, kiddo.”
The sound he made wasn’t just a groan—it was wrecked.
His whole body stiffened beneath you, jaw clenching as his dark eyes cut to yours. “Don’t,” he rasped, voice low, threaded with warning and want. “Don’t call me that.”
Before you could tease again, he moved—strong hands on your hips—lifting, dragging you effortlessly into his lap. You straddled him, knees pressing into the couch cushions, your chest flush against his.
His lips crashed into yours, not asking this time, but taking—reckless, hungry, every kiss deeper than the last, his breath hot and ragged between gasps.
His hands roamed, broad palms sliding up your spine, molding to the curve of your waist, pulling you impossibly closer until there was no space left between you.
His heart thundered beneath your hands, his chest heaving like he’d been holding this back for too long. His hands slided under the hem of your shirt, fingertips tracing fire across bare skin.
When his mouth left yours to trail down your jaw, heat flared where his lips grazed skin.
You gasped, breaking the kiss just long enough to whisper against his swollen mouth. “Kook…”
“Noona, Say it again,” he begged, breath ragged, eyes wild. “Please. Say my name.”
“Jungkook,” you murmured, slow, teasing, dragging it out.
His hips bucked up instinctively, the sound he let out guttural, almost broken. “Fuck—” He buried his face in your neck, sucking a desperate kiss into your skin. “You don’t know what you do to me, Noona…”
You rocked against him, testing, and the way his breath hitched told you everything. His hands clutched your ass, dragging you down harder against the growing bulge in his jeans.
“You’re trembling,” you teased softly, biting his ear.
“I’m—trying to hold back,” he confessed, panting, his forehead dropping to yours. His voice cracked with need. “I don’t wanna scare you off.”
Your nails scraped lightly down his nape, and he shivered. “You’re not scaring me, Jungkook.” You rolled your hips slowly, deliberately, feeling the way he twitched beneath you.
“You’re driving me crazy.”
He groaned, a sound so raw it made your insides clench.
His lips devoured yours again, messy, breathless, his hips grinding up to meet every subtle roll of your body.
The movie kept playing, but the only soundtrack was his uneven breathing, your quiet whimpers, the wet sound of your kisses. His voice, rough and wrecked, broke through the haze.
“Noona… if you keep moving like that…” He trailed off, swallowing hard, his chest heaving. “I won’t be able to stop.”
You smirked, voice low and taunting. “Maybe I don’t want you to stop.”
His breath hitched, his fingers tightening on you until his knuckles whitened. He shut his eyes like the words were dangerous. “Don’t say that. Please.”
“Why?” you whispered, leaning in, brushing your lips over his jaw.
He opened his eyes then, and you froze.
They weren’t just dark with lust—they were soft, terrified, reverent.
“Noona,” he whispered again, this time softer, breaking. “I’ve thought about this moment so many times but… what if I mess up? What if I’m not what you need?”
Your heart lurched.
His voice wasn’t cocky, wasn’t teasing.
It was desperate—terrified. Like he wanted you so badly it hurt, but his fear of failing you was stronger than his lust.
You tilted his chin up, forcing him to look at you. His eyes were dark, glassy, the kind that made your pulse race.
“Jungkook,” you breathed, “you could never mess this up. You have no idea what you do to me.”
His jaw clenched, nostrils flaring like he was on the verge of giving in. His hips twitched once more against you before he yanked himself back, hands gripping the couch cushions like lifelines.
“I can’t,” he muttered, almost angry at himself. “Not like this. Not when I’m shaking like some idiot.”
The words gutted you.
The raw honesty, the trembling restraint.
You cupped his face, your thumb brushing his flushed cheek. “You’re killing me, Jungkook.”
He huffed out a laugh, broken and breathless, then buried his face in your neck again, whispering hot against your skin: “You’re killing me too.”
So you stayed like that—his arms around you, your heartbeat thundering against his chest—hovering on that edge of surrender and restraint, where every breath, every brush of his lips on your collarbone, was both agony and promise.
Jungkook hovered around you constantly at work too, found excuses to help with tasks, brushed his fingers against yours when no one noticed.
Everyone noticed, of course.
Jimin teased him mercilessly, called him “lover boy,” while Jin just smirked, clearly proud of his matchmaking skills.
One afternoon backstage, Jungkook leaned against the wall, hair damp from practice, a sheen of sweat catching the light. He sipped water, throat working, the rise and fall of his chest still uneven.
Something about the sight made you smile, warm and unguarded.
“Aww, you know it's illegal to look this cute,” you murmured.
His reaction was explosive.
He dropped the bottle halfway, eyes wide, glaring at you with wounded indignation. “Noona,” he whined, cheeks puffing, ears red. “I told you not to call me that.”
You laughed, reaching up to pat his damp hair.
He swatted your hand away, lips turning in the biggest pout.
“Stop it!”
“Okay, okay,” you relented, lips twitching.
“Then what should I call you?”
He crossed his arms, avoided your gaze, his ears turned red. “Anything but kid, puppy, baby, or cute.”
You tilted your head, drew the moment out just to watch him squirm. Then, leaning closer, your voice dropped, lower, softer, like a secret just for him. “Hmm… should I call you my man then?”
The air shifted instantly.
Jungkook froze, his eyes wide, mouth parted.
For one beat, he was utterly still—like your words had struck him right in the chest. Then he melted, stumbling for breath, hands flying up to cover his face.
“Don’t—say stuff like that,” he mumbled, voice breaking, every inch of him burning red.
But you caught the smile tugging helplessly at his lips.
Tugging his wrists down gently, you revealed his flushed face, his gaze flickering to yours and away. “What? You said not to call you cute. My man fits perfectly, doesn’t it?”
He made a strangled sound, then buried his face in your shoulder, his laugh shaky, uneven. His arms wrapped around you like he couldn’t stop himself, holding you close as he muttered, “You’re gonna kill me, noona.”
For the rest of the week, every time you called him my man, his entire face being lit up. He carried your bags, opened doors, even bent to tie your shoelaces before you pushed him away, laughing.
Jungkook only grinned, glow impossible to hide.
Jin noticed, of course.
He raised a brow at rehearsal and smirked. “Ohhh, Jungkook-ah, why are you glowing lately?”
Jungkook nearly combusted on the spot, stammering, “Hyung, I swear—!” while you only hid your laugh behind your hand.
It was a quiet evening after a long day of rehearsals, and you’d invited Jungkook over to your apartment for a low-key dinner and movie night.
The privacy of your cozy living room felt like a sanctuary, far from the chaos of the venue. The space was softly lit with warm lamps, a plush couch piled with blankets, and the faint scent of lavender from a candle you’d lit earlier.
Jungkook was quieter than usual, his movements a little tense as he helped you set out the takeout containers on the coffee table. You stole glances at him, noticed the way his black t-shirt clung to his dampened skin from the shower post rehearsals earlier, the muscles in his arms flexed as he arranged the food.
You decided to lighten the mood, poking his side playfully. “What’s with the serious face, JK? Did I order the wrong kind of fried chicken or something?”
He huffed, a small smile breaking through, but his ears were still red. “Noona, I’m fine. Just… you know, trying not to mess this up.”
“Mess what up?” you teased, leaning closer with a grin. “You’re just eating chicken with me. Unless you’re planning to fling kimchi at the walls, I think you’re safe.”
He chuckled, but it was nervous, his fingers fidgeting with the edge of a takeout container.
“Not that. I mean… us. This.”
He gestured vaguely between you, his voice softer. “I want everything between us to be perfect, noona. I don’t want you to think I’m just… some kid who doesn’t know what he’s doing.”
Your heart softened at his words, realizing that even after months of dating, those old insecurities still lingered.
The teasing, the head pats, the playful nicknames—they’d left a mark, and even now, with you clearly smitten, he was still afraid you saw him as the “baby” of the group.
“Jungkook,” you said, setting down a pair of chopsticks and turning to face him fully.
“You’re not messing anything up. You’re doing great—better than great. You make me laugh, you make me happy, and you’re definitely not a kid in my eyes. Never have been, not even before you confessed, not now.”
He looked at you, eyes wide and searching, like he was trying to believe you but wasn’t quite there. “You sure, noona? ‘Cause sometimes I feel like I’m…. Like what if I’m not enough?”
You reached out, cupped his face, your thumbs brushing his cheeks. “You are more than enough. You don’t have to try so hard, Jungkook. I like you for you—pouts, muscles, nervous fidgeting, and all. Okay?”
He swallowed hard, a shy smile tugging at his lips, but there was still a flicker of doubt in his eyes. “I just… I want you to see me as a man, noona. Not just your date, but… someone you can rely on. Someone who’s… you know, worthy of you.”
Your chest tightened at his vulnerability, and you leaned closer, your voice gentle but firm. “Jungkook, you are my man. You’ve been showing me that every day—carrying my bags, stealing my snacks, kissing me until I can’t think straight.”
You grinned, nudging his shoulder playfully. “You’re doing just fine in the ‘worthy’ department, trust me.”
He laughed, the sound shaky but genuine, and you pulled him into a hug, feeling his arms wrap around you tightly.
But as you pulled back, his eyes locked onto yours, dark and intense, and the air shifted, the playful banter giving way to something heavier.
“Tell me I’m not just a kid to you, noona,” he murmured, his voice low and shaky, his hands settling on your waist. “Tell me you see me as a man.”
“Jungkook,” you whispered, your hands sliding up to cup his face again. “You’re not a kid. You’re the man who makes my heart race every time you look at me like that. You’re my man.”
His breath hitched, and before you could say another word, he closed the distance, kissing you with a desperation that made your head spin.
His lips were soft but insistent, moving against yours like he was pouring all his insecurities, all his longing, into that single moment. You kissed him back, your hands sliding up his chest, feeling the rapid thud of his heart under your palms.
“C’mere,” you murmured against his lips, tugging him toward the couch. He followed, almost tripping over his own feet in his eagerness, and you both laughed, collapsing onto the plush cushions in a tangle of limbs.
“Smooth as always, JK,” you teased, poking his side as he hovered over you, his cheeks flushed.
“Aish, noona,” he muttered, but his grin was wide, his eyes sparkling with that mix of mischief and adoration that made your heart skip.
He kissed you again, deeper this time, his hands sliding under your shirt, fingers grazing the bare skin of your waist.
“Say my name, noona,” he murmured, his voice rough with need as his lips brushed your jaw. “Please, say it.”
“Jungkook,” you breathed, and he groaned, kissing you harder, his fingers trembling slightly as they roamed higher, brushing the edge of your bra.
“Tell me you want me, noona,” he said, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes, his gaze vulnerable but burning. “Please, I need to know.”
“I want you, Jungkook,” you said, your voice steady despite the heat pooling in your core. “I want you so much.”
That was all he needed.
His kisses grew hungrier, his tongue slipping past your lips, exploring with a mix of curiosity and desperation. But as his hands roamed, you felt a slight hesitation, his movements slowing as he pulled back, his brow furrowed.
“Noona,” he whispered, his voice shaky. “I… I want this so bad, but what if I mess it up? Or—God, what if I get too rough and you actually kick me off the couch?”
You giggled but silenced him with a soft kiss, your hands framing his face. “Jungkook, you’re not going to hurt me. You’re doing so good, I promise. Just be you—that’s all I want. I trust you.”
He exhaled shakily, his eyes softening, but there was still a flicker of worry. “You sure? ‘Cause I… I want you so much, noona, it’s driving me crazy. I don’t want to lose control.”
You smiled, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead.
“I’m sure. And if you get too wild, I’ll just tease you until you pout again. Deal?”
He laughed, the sound easing the tension, and he kissed you again, this time with a playful nip at your lower lip.
“You’re gonna regret that, noona,” he murmured, his voice teasing but laced with desire.
“Oh, big talk, JK,” you shot back, grinning as you tugged at his shirt. “Let’s see if you can back it up.”
His eyes darkened, and he pulled your shirt off with a little less grace than he probably intended, tossing it aside with a sheepish grin when it landed on the coffee table.
“Oops,” he muttered, and you both dissolved into giggles, the playful banter grounding you both.
“You’re such a dork,” you teased, helping him tug off his own tshirt, revealing the toned planes of his chest. His skin was warm under your hands, and he shivered as your fingers traced his abs, his breath hitching.
“Only for you, noona,” he said, his voice low and sincere, and the way he looked at you—like you were his entire world—made your heart stutter.
He fumbled with the clasp of your bra, his fingers trembling, and you smiled, guiding his hands. “Nervous?” you teased softly.
He huffed, cheeks flushing, his eyes darting to yours.
“Maybe a little, noona.”
You kissed him, slow and deep, letting him feel your lips as you helped him unhook the bra.
When it slipped off, his breath hitched, and his eyes darkened with a mix of awe and hunger. His hands hovered for a heartbeat before cupping your breasts, thumbs brushing lightly over your nipples.
You gasped, arching instinctively into his touch.
He groaned, lips finding yours again, kissing you with a desperate tenderness that made your chest ache.
“Jungkook,” you moaned softly as his lips trailed lower, circling one nipple with his mouth before sucking gently, teasing just enough to make you shiver.
His fingers danced over the other, rolling your hardened peak between his thumb and forefinger, alternating between soft, tantalizing pinches and delicate flicks.
He swirled his tongue, nipped lightly, and you could feel heat pooling between your legs, hips moving on their own, grinding against him.
“Does that feel good, noona?” he murmured against your skin, switching seamlessly to the other nipple, lavishing it with the same worshipful attention.
“Yes… so good,” you breathed, tangling your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer. He groaned at the praise, his thumbs pressing firmly into your sensitive flesh, rolling, flicking, tugging just the right amount to make you whimper.
He alternated between soft sucking, light pinches, and teasing flicks, occasionally biting ever so gently, making you arch harder into him.
“You feel so perfect, noona… your nipples are so responsive,” he murmured, voice thick with need. He took one nipple into his mouth, tongue swirling while his fingers continued to knead the other, alternating in a slow, maddening rhythm.
“You’re driving me crazy,” he whispered, pulling back just enough to look at you, dark eyes glinting with desire. “Hearing you moan my name like that… it’s like fire.”
You tugged him up for another kiss, your lips meeting his in a hungry, desperate kiss, but he wasn’t done yet.
His hands roamed again, squeezing, rolling, flicking your nipples with a mix of tenderness and hunger, making your entire body shiver under his attention.
He shifted you to lie back fully on the couch, never breaking eye contact, worshiping your chest with his lips and hands, completely thrilled by the way you reacted.
Every suck, every pinch, every flick of his tongue made your hips buck into him, your hands clutching his shoulders as the tension coiled tighter with every movement.
He groaned, burying his face in the swell of your breast, murmuring, “You’re mine… you feel so good, noona.”
He looked up at you, eyes wide and earnest. “Can I… noona?”
You nodded, your heart racing, and he gently slid his fingers along the waistband of your jeans, brushing over your skin before tugging them down along with your panties.
The cool air against your bare legs made you shiver, and his hands were warm as he steadied you, pressing a feather-light kiss to your inner thigh.
“Jungkook…” you whispered, voice trembling, and he paused, looking up at you with a flicker of uncertainty and devotion in his eyes.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, thumb brushing over your sensitive skin. He leaned closer, lips tracing slow, teasing kisses along your inner thigh, inching closer with each breath. “I want to make you feel… everything, noona.”
His kisses were soft at first, light grazes of his lips against your skin, teasing rather than devouring, making you writhe against him. He alternated between gentle nibbles, the tip of his tongue tracing circles, and soft sucking, testing your reactions with every touch.
“Jungkook,” you gasped, hips tilting slightly, “that feels… so good.”
His hands slid up to your hips, steadying you as he shifted slightly, pressing his body closer. He nipped lightly at your inner thigh, sending a shiver through you, then paused just short of your core, letting his warm breath ghost over you.
“Can I… taste you, noona?” he murmured, voice low and trembling with need. “I want to take my time… make you feel amazing.”
“Yes… please,” you breathed, your fingers tangling in his hair, tugging him closer.
He didn’t rush.
Instead, he kissed his way slowly closer, alternating teasing flicks of his tongue along your thighs with feather-light kisses that made your anticipation spike.
Every touch, every whisper of his lips, built tension, making your core thrum with need.
Finally, he lowered his mouth over you, tongue tracing gentle, deliberate circles, his lips brushing softly against your sensitive skin. He groaned at the taste, the feel, his fingers finding your hips to anchor himself as he explored you with increasing boldness.
“Like that, noona?” he murmured, eyes lifting to yours, dark and hungry.
“Yes… Jungkook, just like that,” you moaned, hips lifting slightly, your body trembling at the delicious tension he was building.
He smiled against you, his teeth grazing lightly before returning to soft, worshipful kisses. His fingers traced gentle patterns along your thighs, occasionally teasing your entrance, building you up, drawing out your moans, making every touch feel electric.
“You’re mine… and I want to make you feel everything, noona,” he whispered, voice thick with need and tenderness. “I love hearing you moan for me… let me make you feel so good.”
You gasped, hips instinctively grinding, arching into his teasing mouth, your hands clutching his shoulders.
His eyes stayed locked on yours, full of adoration, as he alternated teasing flicks of his tongue, light sucking, and gentle nips—making you shiver, writhe, and beg without a single thrust.
Finally, he pulled back just enough to look up at you, lips glistening, eyes dark and intense.
“You taste so good, noona,” he murmured, voice raw with honesty and need, and the tension coiled tighter than ever, leaving you gasping for the next delicious moment.
You came with a cry, your body shaking as he held you steady, his mouth working you through the waves of pleasure. When you finally caught your breath, he crawled back up, kissing you deeply, letting you taste yourself on his lips.
“Your turn,” you murmured, reaching for the waistband of his sweatpants, but he stopped you, his hands gentle but firm.
“Not yet,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I want to feel you first, noona.”
You nodded, pulling him close, your fingers tangled in his hair. “Let’s take this to the bedroom, Jungkook. I want more… more space to feel you.”
He nodded eagerly, scooping you up with surprising strength, carrying you to the bedroom with a shy grin. “As you wish, noona,” he said, laying you gently on the bed.
The moment your back hit the soft sheets, his lips crashed onto yours, sloppy, hungry, and full of need.
He fumbled with his sweatpants, tugging them down just enough for you to feel the hardness of him straining against the fabric. He groaned low in his throat, pressing himself to you, teasing, dragging out the tension between your bodies.
“Tell me you want it, noona,” he rasped, voice rough and desperate, fingers gripping your hips like he could anchor himself there.
“I want you, Jungkook,” you gasped, voice trembling with desire.
“I want every inch of you, and I don’t care how rough you get.”
The words were like a release, and he slammed into you, slow at first, then with a greedy, desperate rhythm. His hands gripped your hips hard, thumbs digging into your skin as he thrust, inch by inch, watching your reactions with wide, worshipful eyes.
“You’re so fucking tight,” he growled, each thrust driving him deeper, harder, making the bed creak beneath you. “Fuck, noona… you feel too good.”
You moaned, your nails raking down his back as his hips snapped into yours, faster, rougher, but never reckless. “Yes, Jungkook… just like that. Harder… don’t hold back.”
“God, you’re mine,” he growled, his teeth grazing your shoulder as he kissed you roughly, tongue pushing into your mouth, claiming it. “So fucking wet… all for me.”
His hands wandered lower, fingers teasing your slick folds as he fucked into you, dragging out your cries.
“You taste so fucking good, noona… all for me,” he hissed, thrusting relentlessly, his balls slapping against you, the heat of him searing through your core.
You bucked against him, gasping, moaning his name like a prayer. “Fuck, Jungkook… oh God, yes!”
His lips found your neck, teeth grazing, sucking bruises into your skin as he muttered filthy praises. “So perfect… mine… you’re mine, noona. Gonna make you come all over me.”
You were shaking, trembling under his relentless thrusts, and he groaned, snapping his hips faster, harder, spilling himself deep inside you.
“Come for me, noona… scream my fucking name,” he demanded, his voice rough, raw, and desperate.
Your walls clenched around him, shoving him over the edge as you came with a cry, trembling, crying out his name.
He followed moments later, groaning low as his release hit deep inside you, body trembling against yours, lips buried in your neck, murmuring filthy, possessive words.
“Fuck… you’re mine,” he hissed between ragged breaths, still thrusting shallowly, savoring the warmth of you clinging to him. “All mine, noona…”
The two of you lay tangled, heaving, skin slick with sweat, hearts racing, lost in the raw, filthy, intimate chaos you’d created together.
You stayed tangled together on the bed, your bodies pressed close, breaths mingling in the soft glow of the bedroom.
Jungkook’s arms were wrapped around you, pulling you into his chest as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his warmth enveloping you like a blanket.
The sheets were a mess, but neither of you cared, too lost in the quiet intimacy of the moment.
He pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder, his lips lingering as he murmured, “Noona, you’re gonna make me lazy if we stay like this.”
His voice was low, playful, but there was a warmth in it that made your heart flutter.
You chuckled, running your fingers through his damp hair, tugging gently to make him look at you. “Lazy, huh? I thought you were the Golden Maknae, always full of energy.”
He grinned, his eyes crinkling, and leaned in to kiss you, slow and sweet, his lips soft against yours.
“Only for you… for the things I’ve been dying to do to you, noona,” he teased, his voice dropping suggestively, though his blush gave away his shyness.
“Oh, is that so?” you teased back, poking his side, making him squirm and laugh, the sound filling the room with warmth.
You shifted closer, snuggling into his chest, your legs tangling with his under the sheets. “Guess I’ll have to keep you here then, see how much energy you’ve got left.”
He groaned dramatically, but his arms tightened around you, pulling you impossibly closer. “You’re trouble, noona,” he murmured, kissing the top of your head, his lips lingering in your hair.
You tilted your head up, catching his lips in another kiss, this one deeper, your hands sliding up his back, feeling the warmth of his skin.
“Good kind of trouble, right?” you whispered against his lips, and he nodded, his eyes soft and full of adoration.
“The best kind,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, before kissing you again, his hands roaming gently over your back, tracing lazy patterns.
You spent long moments like that, trading soft kisses and playful whispers, your bodies pressed together as you snuggled under the blankets, the world outside forgotten.
Eventually, you pulled back just enough to look at him, your fingers brushing his cheek. “You okay, JK? You’re suddenly awfully quiet for someone who’s usually so loud.”
He let out a soft laugh, burying his face back into your neck.
“Just… happy, noona. Really happy. Like… I don’t want this moment to end, ever.” His words were muffled, almost fragile, and your chest ached at the raw honesty in them.
You tightened your arms around him, your lips brushing his temple.
“Me too,” you whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead, letting him feel your heartbeat against his chest.
“I feel… complete when I’m like this with you.”
He nuzzled closer, fingers intertwining with yours, thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles as though claiming you gently, tenderly.
Every now and then, he’d steal a soft kiss, lingering just long enough to make you gasp, his lips curving into that shy, almost boyish smile that made your heart ache with love.
“Promise me something, noona,” he murmured against your skin, voice barely audible.
“What?” you whispered back, fingers threading through his hair.
“That… no matter what, you’ll stay… with me like this,” he said, voice trembling slightly, revealing the insecurity he hid behind his usual bravado.
“Even when the world’s loud, even when I’m… a mess.”
You pressed your lips to his temple again, whispering, “I promise, Jungkook. Always.”
And in that quiet, warm cocoon, tangled together under the blankets, the messy sheets, and the soft glow of the bedroom light, you both let yourselves just be, hearts beating in sync, a mix of laughter, whispered confessions, and the steady comfort of knowing you were exactly where you belonged.
Pairing: Best Friend!Jungkook x Reader
Genre: Best Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Hurt/Comfort, Runaway Drama, Mutual Pining, Explicit Smut, Angst, Fluff, Jealousy, Chaotic Romance
Word Count: ~6k
Rating: Explicit (18+) | Minors DNI
The university campus buzzed with excitement. It was the graduation day. Laughter rang out across the different student groups, camera shutters clicked nonstop, and pink cherry blossom petals floated gently in the warm breeze.
The air felt heavy with memories, sweet and a little sad, as you stood under the old oak tree near the lecture halls—the place where so many moments with Jungkook had happened.
“Jungkook,” you teased, grinning as you nudged his side with your elbow, “you’re gonna miss me when I’m off living my glamorous runaway bride life.”
He swatted your hand away, his bunny-like grin betraying the warmth in his eyes.
“Glamorous?” He arched a brow, leaning lazily against the tree. “Pfft. You? Please. You’re the same girl who tripped over her shoelaces last week. Twice.”
You scoffed, tossing your hair dramatically.
You’d been dreaming about Minho—the polished, perfect son of a powerful politician—for months now.
He was everything your small-town heart thought it wanted: sharp jawline, expensive cologne, words sweet as spun sugar.
You told Jungkook everything about him, about how you were going to run away together because his family thought you—a middle-class nobody—wasn’t good enough. Jungkook laughed when you told him, called it “filmy as hell,” but his smile had faltered for just a second, the edges tight in a way you couldn’t decipher.
“If this is what makes you happy,” he said quietly that day, so soft you almost missed it, “I’ll help you. I’m your ride-or-die, right?”
And when Jungkook made a promise, he kept it.
The plan became a full-blown spy thriller, courtesy of Jungkook. He insisted on code names (Operation Runaway Princess) and even brought disguises that were just his old hoodie and a baseball cap.
When he pulled the cap snug over your head, his fingers brushed your forehead gently, lingering for a fraction of a second longer than necessary.
“You look like a discount spy,” he teased, but his eyes lingered a second too long.
The railway station was a whirlwind of noise and motion, the platform crowded with travellers and the distant rumble of an approaching train.
You stood next to Minho, your suitcase at your feet, heart pounding with a mix of excitement and nerves.
Jungkook was there too, leaning against a pillar with his hands stuffed in his hoodie pocket, pretending to scroll his phone. But his usual spark was gone.
“Hey.” His voice was calm—too calm—as he walked over, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets. “Don’t forget to send me a postcard from your new life, okay?”
You rolled your eyes, but your throat tightened as you stepped forward to hug him. The moment his arms wrapped around you, the world stilled. You pressed your face into his chest.
“You’re my best friend forever, Kook,” you whispered against his shoulder, voice trembling just a little.
His arms tightened around you like he was holding on to something already slipping away. His breath shuddered near your ear, and then, so low you almost didn’t catch it, he whispered, “Yeah… forever.”
When he pulled back, his smile was forced, brittle at the edges.
“Be happy for a lifetime, okay?”
As the train’s whistle pierced the air, Jungkook turned away, his shoulders stiff. You didn’t see the way his jaw clenched, the way his eyes glistened as he walked back to his beat-up car.
He slid into the driver’s seat, gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white.
“Great,” he muttered to himself, voice thick.
“She’s gone… with that loser.”
Hours later, Jungkook sat alone by the lake—the lake that had been yours, your secret escape from the world since high school.
The water shimmered under the fading sun, calm and cruel in its stillness, as if mocking the storm inside his chest. He sat with his knees drawn up, elbows resting, eyes fixed on the horizon but seeing nothing.
Memories hit like waves—your laughter when he fell off his bicycle at sixteen, the way you always stole his fries, the night you’d cried over your less marks in exams.
He’d loved you since you were sixteen.
He’d never told you. And now, you were gone.
His vision blurred, and he blinked hard, biting the inside of his cheek until it stung. He was Jungkook—your unshakable, goofy best friend.
He didn’t cry.
He couldn’t.
The crunch of footsteps snapped him out of his spiral. His head jerked up—and his heart stopped.
You.
Dragging your suitcase. Face streaked with tears. Looking like your entire world had collapsed.
For a second, Jungkook thought he was hallucinating.
He scrubbed at his eyes with the heel of his hand, breath catching. “Y/N?!” His voice cracked as he stumbled to his feet. “What—why are you here? How—”
You dropped the suitcase with a thud, and your words came out in jagged sobs. “He left. His parents threatened him, and he just… left me there on the platform like some idiot!”
Jungkook felt something inside him shatter.
You deserved better. You always did.
And then you broke. Tears spilled faster, your body shaking as the sobs ripped free. He didn’t hesitate. In two strides, he was there, wrapping you in his arms, holding you so tight it was like he was anchoring you to the earth.
“It's OK. Don't cry over it.” He said.
Your face buried in his chest, your words muffled but sharp as knives: “You won’t understand. You’ve never loved anyone.”
Jungkook froze. The air left his lungs. If only you knew—if only you could feel the way his heart beat itself bloody for you every single day.
But he didn’t say it.
He couldn’t.
So instead, he just held you tighter, his hand smoothing over your hair, voice a soft tremor. “Hey… hey, it’s okay. You’re okay. I’ve got you. I’ve always got you.”
When your sobs quieted to sniffles, he pulled back just enough to catch your face in his hands, thumbs brushing away stray tears. Then, because silence felt suffocating, he grabbed a familiar red bag from his backpack and shook it with a flourish.
“C’mon,” he said gently, forcing a smile, “you can’t cry on an empty stomach. These are the spicy ones you love, right?”
You let out a watery laugh, swatting at his chest as you reached for a chip. “You’re an idiot.”
His smile softened, eyes lingering on your face like it was the last sunrise he’d ever see. “Yeah,” he murmured, almost to himself, “but I’m your idiot.”
And for the first time that day, the ache in his chest eased—just a little.
Jungkook stood up, brushing the grass off his jeans, and swung your suitcase over his shoulder like it weighed nothing.
“Come on,” he said, voice calm but eyes filled with worry he couldn’t hide. “I’ll drop you home.”
You hesitated.
And then… gave him that look—the one that had always meant trouble. It was the same innocent smile that used to get him to do your homework or sneak you extra fries in the cafeteria. But Jungkook wasn’t fooled. That smile was a red flag with dimples.
He narrowed his eyes. “What did you do?”
You twirled a strand of hair around your finger, biting your lip in fake innocence.
“Sooo… I can’t exactly go home.”
His brows shot up so fast they nearly flew off his forehead. “What?”
You winced and spilled it all in a rush.
“I may or may not have had a massive fight with my parents before leaving. They said if I went through with this whole ‘running away with Minho’ thing, I shouldn’t come back.”
Jungkook froze mid-step, staring at you like you’d grown two heads.
“You what? That means you lied to me earlier saying your parents knew everything.” You shrugged.
“They know... Though... They just didn't support the idea.”
His voice cracked in disbelief. “Y/N… your parents adore you! What the hell did you even say?”
You kicked at a pebble, your throat tight.
“They were worried, okay? About Minho. About his family chewing me up. And I just… snapped. Told them I was tired of being treated like a kid. Said I’d live my own life without their permission. And then they said…”
Your voice wavered. “They said if I left, I was on my own.”
The words hung heavy between you. Jungkook dragged a hand down his face, pacing like his brain was buffering. “So, what now? You’re just… homeless? You gonna live in my car?”
You grinned, batting your lashes.
“Nope! You’ve got that fancy new apartment all to yourself, Mr. I-Don’t-Live-With-My-Parents-Anymore-After-Being-Employed. Take me there.”
His heart stuttered violently. With me? His throat went dry, his brain screaming
Danger. Bad idea. Very bad idea.
“My apartment?” he repeated, voice squeaky, then cleared his throat. “It’s… not exactly guest-ready.”
You crossed your arms, smirking like a cat that had cornered its prey. “What, hiding a girlfriend in there? Or a pet snake you don’t want me to meet? Relax, Kook. I’m practically family.”
Family. The word sliced through him like a blade. He forced a laugh, though his chest felt tight.
“Fine. But if you break anything, you’re paying.”
The drive was filled with your usual banter—you teasing him for driving like old grandpa, him shooting back about the time you knocked over a mailbox.
On the surface, it felt like old times. But Jungkook’s fingers gripped the steering wheel tighter than usual, because reality had hit:
you, the girl he loved, were about to live with him.
When you stepped into his small apartment, Jungkook nearly had a heart attack.
The place looked like… well, a single guy’s cave.
Ramen cups on the counter, laundry piled in a corner, a mountain of gaming gear by the TV—and, oh God, the stack of adult comics on the coffee table.
“Make yourself at home!” he called out, already diving for the comics like his life depended on it.
Sizzling Summer Nights. Naughty Ninjas.
And many more...
He shoved them under a cushion, but when he turned, his heart stopped again—because you were holding a protein jar.
“Uh, Jungkook?” you asked, lifting the tub labelled Mega Muscle Max with a cartoon bodybuilder.
“Why do you have, like, ten of these? Planning to turn into The Hulk?”
He snatched it from your hands, nearly dropping it in his panic. “For… gains! Don’t judge my lifestyle.”
You smirked.
“Gains, huh? Is that what you call—” Your eyes flicked to the couch where the corner of Naughty Ninjas peeked out.
You gasped dramatically.
“Jeon Jungkook! Are you hiding dirty comics under there?”
His soul left his body. “It’s not what it looks like!” he yelped, clutching the comic like it was a lifeline.
“They’re… art. Collectibles!”
You doubled over laughing, tears streaming down your face.
“Art?! Kook, you’re fooling no one. Oh my god, you’re such a perv!”
“Shut up!” he groaned, red as a cherry, throwing the comics in a drawer. “I’m a grown man, I can—own things!”
“Oh my God,” you wheezed, clutching your stomach.
“I’m never letting you live this down.”
He thought the embarrassment was over—until you stepped out of his bathroom later, wrapped in a towel, your damp hair clinging to your neck. And then you… put on his hoodie.
It swallowed you whole, sleeves dangling past your hands, the hem brushing your bare thighs.
Jungkook’s brain short-circuited.
His hoodie. On you.
Smelling like him, looking better than it ever did on him. His throat worked overtime as he tried to breathe, to look away, to not imagine you in ways that didn't sound holy.
“Uh… you good?” you asked, tilting your head at his dazed expression.
“Y-Yeah,” he stammered, turning sharply to the fridge because looking at you was dangerous.
“Pizza. You want pepperoni?”
You grinned, clueless. “Always.”
You turned his apartment into a war zone—your makeup on his sink, your suitcase like a landmine in the living room.
You tried to make breakfast and set off the smoke alarm. He ran in, waving a towel, yelling, “Are you trying to burn my house down?!” and you pouted like a kicked puppy.
That pout nearly killed him.
At night, you had sprawled on his couch, feet in his lap, binge-watching dramas and stealing his snacks.
One night, you fell asleep on his shoulder mid-episode, your head heavy against him, your breath warm on his neck.
Jungkook didn’t move for hours, terrified you’d wake and see the truth in his eyes—the truth that every second with you was both heaven and torture.
Every accidental touch was a spark.
When his hand brushed yours reaching for the remote, when you flicked flour at him and he caught your wrist, fingers lingering, pulse racing—the air felt too thick to breathe.
Another night, you broke again.
Sitting on his couch, soju bottle in hand, tears streaking your face.
“I thought he loved me,” you whispered, voice trembling. Jungkook’s chest burned as he cupped your cheeks, brushing away the tears like they hurt him too.
“He’s an idiot,” Jungkook said softly, fiercely. “You deserve someone who’d fight for you. Someone who’d never let you go.”
Your eyes met his, shimmering with something he couldn’t name.
For a second, he thought you saw it—the years of love he’d buried deep. But then you laughed bitterly, wiping your cheeks.
“What, like you? You’d probably fight someone over the last slice of pizza.”
“Pizza is serious business,” he said with a weak smile, but inside, his heart screamed: Yes. Like me. Always me.
Later, tipsy and giggling, you sat too close on the couch, your thigh pressed to his.
Your fingers brushed his, lingered.
The tension coiled tight. You tilted your head, voice slurring softly: “You’ve never been in love, right? You wouldn’t get it.”
Jungkook’s smile faltered.
His jaw clenched.
“Yeah,” he said quietly, eyes burning into yours. “I wouldn’t know.” But his fingers didn’t move. Neither did yours.
And just like that, the line between friendship and something dangerous began to blur.
Weeks turned into months, and life felt like one long, cruel joke.
You were determined to move on from Minho’s betrayal, throwing yourself into job applications with a vengeance. Every job application was another rejection email, every “thank you for applying” felt like salt rubbed into a wound.
And you were ready to scream.
“I’m cursed,” you groaned, flopping onto Jungkook’s couch after a particularly brutal day.
“Maybe I should just become a professional couch potato.”
Jungkook, who’d just dragged his tired self home from a twelve-hour day, leaned against the doorframe, loosening his tie with one hand and giving you that look—the one that said you’re ridiculous, but I can’t stop caring about you anyway.
His hair was messy, his shirt slightly wrinkled, and he still looked unfairly good.
“You’d be the laziest couch potato in history,” he teased, tossing his jacket over a chair.
“C’mon, let’s order takeout and call it a night.”
But you had other plans.
“Nope,” you declared, springing up with a glint in your eye. “I’m done moping. We’re going to a club. I need to dance, drink, and forget my life is a dumpster fire.”
Jungkook groaned, rubbing his face.
“Y/N, I’ve had the kind of day that kills souls. Can’t we just watch another drama and pass out?”
You crossed your arms, pouting.
“You’re my ride-or-die, remember? You can’t abandon me now. Besides, it's Friday, you need to loosen up too after such tiring day. When was the last time you had fun?”
He sighed, knowing he was fighting a losing battle.
“Fine. But if I fall asleep on the dance floor, it’s on you.”
The club was chaos in neon.
Bass throbbed like a heartbeat, lights flickered in dizzying patterns, and the air was thick with sweat and perfume. You were in your element—little tipsy, laughing too loud, spinning in your little black dress like the universe owed you joy.
Jungkook… wasn’t.
He stayed close, his jaw tight, eyes scanning the crowd like a soldier on enemy lines.
Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was you—your bare shoulders glistening under the lights, the way that dress hugged you just right—but something dark and hungry curled in his gut every time someone looked at you.
And then it happened.
Some guy—tall, smug, with a smile that screamed trouble—slid into your space like he owned it.
His hand grazed your waist.
“Hey, gorgeous,” he drawled over the music. “Dance with me?”
You giggled, half-drunk, half-reckless.
“Maybe,” you teased, tossing your hair back. “If you can keep up.”
Jungkook’s jaw clenched so hard he thought his teeth might crack. He was across the dance floor in seconds, the buzz of alcohol fuelling his courage as he slid between you and the guy, his glare lethal.
“She’s good,” he said, glaring daggers. “Back off.”
The guy smirked, hands raised in mock surrender. “Chill, bro. Just a dance.”
“Not happening,” Jungkook snapped.
His voice was calm, but his body was vibrating like a live wire. The guy muttered something and melted into the crowd, but you weren’t looking at him anymore.
You were staring at Jungkook stunned.
“What’s your deal?” you yelled over the music, half-laughing, half-shocked. “Jealous much?”
And that… that was the moment something in Jungkook broke.
He grabbed your wrist, tugging you so close your noses almost brushed, his breath warm against your lips. His voice was raw, rough, nothing like the teasing tone you knew.
“Yeah. I’m jealous. I’m fucking tired of watching you waste yourself on idiots who don’t deserve to breathe the same air as you.”
The world went still. The music faded. The lights blurred. Your heart stuttered like it forgot how to beat.
“Jungkook…” you whispered, your voice a trembling thread.
And then you said the words that burned him alive.
“Then show me who does.”
Something snapped.
Years of restraint, gone in a heartbeat.
He kissed you like a man starved—hard, messy, desperate, his hands fisting in your hair as if to anchor himself. The taste of soju and something sweeter exploded on his tongue, and you clung to him, pulling him closer like you’d drown if he let go.
The kiss was everything you weren’t supposed to want—hot and frantic and completely, hopelessly wrong—and it felt like oxygen.
“Not here,” he rasped against your lips, grabbing your hand like a lifeline.
You barely made it outside before he had you pressed against his car, the cool metal biting your back as his mouth found yours again. This time slower, deeper, like he wanted to memorize you—every sigh, every shiver, every soft sound you made when his tongue teased yours.
“Jungkook…” you gasped when his lips trailed down your jaw, teeth grazing that sensitive spot on your neck.
Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging, urging, and he groaned—a low, broken sound that shot straight through you.
“You have no idea what you do to me,” he whispered against your skin, his breath hot, his voice ragged with need.
“Do you know how long I’ve—”
You cut him off with another kiss, your lips soft but demanding. Your heart cracked wide open.
“Then don’t stop,” you breathed, pulling him back to your lips like you were starving, and he kissed you like he’d never let you go.
His hands slid under your shirt, calloused fingers tracing fire along your waist, your ribs, sending shocks straight to your core.
You moaned into his mouth, and that sound—god, that sound—made him lose it. He pressed you harder against the car, devouring you like you were the only thing that could save him, every kiss rougher, hungrier, until you were both trembling.
“Tell me to stop,” he rasped against your lips, even as his body betrayed him, caging you in.
“I swear if you regret this tomorrow—”
“Shut up,” you whispered, breathless, desperate. “And kiss me again.”
And he did. God, he did—like it was the first and last time, like the world could burn down around you and he’d still be there, holding you like you were his whole damn universe.
By the time you snapped out of your daze, you were standing in front of his apartment door. Jungkook jiggled the keys, glancing at you with that boyish grin.
“Don’t look at me like that,” you said, crossing your arms.
“Like what?” He unlocked the door, voice low and teasing. “Like I’m about to do something stupid?”
Your laugh was shaky. “Maybe.”
“Good,” he whispered, tugging you inside before you could answer.
The door clicked shut, and everything felt… different.
The air was heavy, his eyes darker than you’d ever seen.
For years, you thought Jungkook was just your safe place—your constant. But the way he was looking at you now?
It wasn’t safe.
It was dangerous.
And the worst part, you also didn’t want to run either.
“You shouldn’t look at me like that either, Y/N,” he murmured, stepping closer until your back hit the wall.
His voice dropped, rough around the edges. “Because I’m not strong enough to keep pretending tonight.”
Your heart slammed against your ribs. “Jungkook…”
“Don’t say my name like that.” His jaw tightened. “Not when I’ve been dying to hear you moan it.”
Before you could even breathe, his mouth crashed onto yours—hungry, messy, like he’d been holding back for years. His hands pinned your wrists to the wall as his tongue slid against yours, deep and desperate.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he rasped between kisses, his lips brushing yours as if he couldn’t bear to break contact.
His tongue teased yours, slow at first, then deeper—demanding, claiming—drawing a helpless moan from your throat that he swallowed greedily.
His hands were everywhere.
Sliding up your spine, gripping your thighs, skimming under your shirt like he needed to touch all of you at once. His fingers dug into your skin possessively, leaving little marks he’d probably kiss later.
And then, without warning, he lifted you—effortless, like you weighed nothing. You squealed, legs instinctively wrapping around his waist, nails clutching his shoulders for balance.
“Show-off,” you managed breathlessly, though your grin faltered when he pressed his forehead to yours, eyes burning with something that made your stomach flip.
“Gotta impress my girl,” he murmured, voice so low and husky it thrummed through your chest.
It was playful on the surface, but his eyes… his eyes were dark, almost reverent. Like this moment wasn’t just about lust—it was about every unspoken word that had simmered between you for years.
He carried you down the short hallway, your laughter melting into breathless gasps as his lips found your jaw, your throat, marking a blazing path across your skin.
When he laid you on the bed, it wasn’t careless.
He placed you there like something precious, hovering above you for a heartbeat, his chest heaving. For the first time since the kiss started, he paused—really looked at you. And the look on his face… God, it undid you.
“Do you have any idea what you do to me?”
His voice cracked on the words, low and rough like gravel, as his fingers traced the curve of your jaw. Slowly, reverently, they slid down your neck, across your collarbone, until they rested over your racing heart.
“Every time I saw you in my hoodie… every time you laughed at my stupid jokes… every time you cried over that asshole—” His jaw clenched. “I wanted to make you mine.”
Your breath hitched, a shaky exhale leaving your lips as the truth hit like a tidal wave.
All those years.
All those moments.
And he’d been holding this in?
“Then do it,” you whispered, voice trembling with something between challenge and surrender. You grabbed a fistful of his shirt, pulling him down for a kiss that was pure fire.
Clothes came off. Your dress was gone, his shirt tossed somewhere across the room. His jeans hit the floor with a dull thud, your lace, his boxers and laughter and curses muttered against skin.
When his lips found your neck again, softer this time, you shivered. He worshipped his way downward, mouth teasing every inch like he had all night to memorize you.
His teeth grazed your collarbone, his tongue swirling around a nipple until you arched, a strangled sound escaping your throat.
“So perfect,” he murmured against your skin, voice almost reverent. “You’re like a fucking goddess.”
“Jungkook,” you whined, tugging his hair, trying to pull him back up. “Stop talking and—move.”
He laughed, low and sinful, the sound vibrating against your stomach as his mouth traveled lower.
“Bossy, huh?”
His breath ghosted over your bare thighs, sending sparks up your spine. “Let’s see how loud you get.”
The first flick of his tongue stole the air from your lungs.
The second made you cry out, your hips jerking despite his firm grip. His hands held you open, thumbs stroking your skin soothingly even as his mouth drove you insane—slow licks, teasing sucks, and then his fingers joined, sliding in with devastating precision.
“Jungkook, please—” Your voice broke, needy and wrecked.
He pulled back just enough to smirk up at you, lips glistening, eyes dark with mischief. “Please what, baby? Use your words.”
You let out a breathless laugh, half-exasperated, half-ruined.
“You’re such a jerk.”
“And you love it,” he shot back smoothly before diving in again, relentless this time. His tongue and fingers worked in perfect sync until you shattered—back arching, thighs trembling, his name spilling from your lips like a prayer.
When he finally came up, he kissed you deep, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. And then—finally—he pressed himself against you, hard and ready, making your breath catch.
“Jungkook,” you whispered, clutching his shoulders, and something in his gaze softened.
“I’ve wanted this for so long,” he confessed hoarsely, forehead pressed to yours. “You. Always you.”
The first thrust was slow—agonizingly slow—like he wanted to savor it.
Your gasp tangled with his groan, the heat of him filling you, stretching you, until you were both shaking.
“You feel so good,” he murmured, lips brushing your temple as he began to move—slow, deep, like he was carving himself into your soul. His hands pinned your wrists above your head, his breath hot against your ear.
“Not letting you cry over anyone else ever again.”
Then the control snapped. His pace turned rough, desperate, each thrust wringing a moan from your throat.
“Say it again,” he demanded, voice breaking. “Say my name.”
You did—over and over—until the words dissolved into cries and broken pleas as your orgasm crashed over you. He followed with a strangled groan, spilling into you, his body shuddering as he buried his face in your neck.
“Fuck, Y/N,” he panted, pressing kisses to your skin, softer now, worshipful. “You’re everything. Do you know how insane you’ve made me? All these years…”
“I didn't,” you teased, smirking against his lips. “Kinda thought you just wanted to be my best man at the wedding.”
“Wedding my ass,” he growled, snuggling into your neck. “You were never supposed to run away with him.”
“Why didn’t you stop me then?” you shot back, breathless as he sucked your sensitive spot again behind the ear.
“Because I’m stupidly in love with you,” Jungkook blurted. His mouth latched onto your neck, sucking hard enough to make you moan.
“And because I promised I’d make you happy—even if it killed me.”
“Oh my god, you’re dramatic,” you laughed—right before gasping when his hand again slid between your legs, fingers pressing exactly where you needed.
“Say that again when you’re screaming my name,” he grinned, eyes dark and teasing. “Bet I can make you cry louder than you did at the train station. But out of pleasure, not betrayal.”
You giggled and swatted his chest but he again pulled you into a soft kiss.
When it was over, he didn’t pull away.
He cleaned you up gently, whispering little reassurances like he couldn’t help himself, before sliding back into bed and tucking you into his chest.
“Stay,” he murmured, lips brushing your hair. His arms tightened around you like he feared you’d vanish.
You fell asleep to the rhythm of his heartbeat—steady, safe, yours.
Morning light streamed through the curtains, painting Jungkook’s tiny apartment in soft gold.
You woke up in his bed, tangled in his sheets, wearing his t-shirt, the scent of him—woodsy and warm—clinging to you. The events of last night played in your mind like a movie, each moment more vivid than the last.
His mouth. His hands. His stupidly pretty face saying “Mine.”
You stretched, a lazy smile spreading across your face as you heard clattering from the kitchen.
Curiosity—and hunger—dragged you out of bed.
Padding into the kitchen, you froze.
There was Jungkook. Shirtless.
Flipping pancakes with a goofy grin, humming some cheesy pop song. His hair was a mess, sticking up in every direction, and he looked so unfairly gorgeous you almost forgot how to breathe.
He looked unfairly gorgeous. Like, criminally illegal.
“Morning, sleepyhead!” he chirped when he noticed you, flashing a grin that could melt glaciers.
“I hope you’re hungry, ‘cause your boy here is making a feast!”
You perched on a stool, eyeing the crime scene on the stove. “You’re gonna burn those,” you deadpanned.
He gasped, clutching his bare chest dramatically. “Excuse you, these are not burnt. They are…” He paused, flipping a pancake that looked like it had been to war. “…artfully caramelized for flavor.”
You snorted, grabbing a piece of bacon off the plate like a thief. “Sure, Gordon Ramsay.”
For a few moments, it was almost domestic—him cooking, you stealing food, laughter floating through the apartment.
Too perfect.
Too easy.
“So…” you started, stealing a piece of bacon from a plate. “…last night?”
Jungkook froze mid-pancake flip. Slowly, he turned, plate in hand, his face soft but serious.
“Not a mistake,” he said firmly, setting the plate in front of you with a thud.
“Unless…”
He leaned closer, eyes narrowing playfully. “…you’re planning to run off with another politician’s kid, in which case, I will throw hands.”
You burst out laughing, nearly choking on bacon. “You’re such an idiot.”
“Your idiot,” he shot back instantly, grinning like the smug bastard he is. Then his grin softened, and he reached across the counter, fingers brushing yours.
“I’ve loved you forever, Y/N. Since we were kids. Since you laughed so hard at my bad impressions you snorted milk out your nose. I just… never thought you’d look at me like this.”
Your heart flipped.
Completely, irreversibly flipped.
You leaned in, kissing him softly. “You’re still an idiot,” you whispered against his lips, “but I was also an idiot to not realize soon that you’ve always been the one I wanted.”
The kiss deepened, slow and sweet, until he pulled back, grinning. “Careful, or we’ll end up back in bed, and these pancakes will go to waste.”
“Tempting,” you teased, pulling back with a smirk.
Breakfast was loud and messy—him stealing your fork, you flicking syrup at him when he tried to eat the last pancake.
It felt like home—chaotic, messy, perfect.
And then came The Date.
That evening, you wore a simple dress—the one that always made you feel pretty without trying. Jungkook, in his leather jacket, looked like trouble and salvation all at once.
When he saw you, he froze mid-step.
“You look… wow,” he said, scratching the back of his neck like a shy teenager.
You smirked. “You’re not so bad yourself, Mr. Brooding Rockstar.”
Dinner at your favorite diner was perfect in the most imperfect way—burgers, fries, milkshakes, and a lot of you stealing his fries while he pretended to be offended yet stealing kisses on your knuckles.
It was cute. Sweet. Safe.
Until chaos arrived.
The diner door creaked open, and in walked your parents. And Jungkook’s.
Time. Stopped.
Your hand in Jungkook's hand. His lips on your knuckles.
“Y/N?!” your mom shrieked, clutching her pearls like she was auditioning for a soap opera. “What is this? You’re on a date?”
You froze mid-fry-theft, slowly lowering your hand like you were caught robbing a bank. Jungkook’s dad jabbed a finger at his son.
“You! I KNEW you were up to no good when you said you were ‘busy’ tonight!”
Panic bloomed in your chest. You gave a weak smile and held up a fry.
“Uh… surprise?”
Then, you turned to your parents, pouting dramatically.
“Wait. WHY aren’t you freaking out more? I’ve been gone for months! No search warrant? No ‘Y/N, where are you?’ You just… let me vanish?”
Your parents exchanged a look, then turned to Jungkook—who was suddenly very interested in his milkshake, avoiding the pairs of eyes.
“Y/N,” your mom sighed, “we weren’t worried. Jungkook called us the first day you crashed in his apartment. Said you’d had a fight and needed a place to stay.”
Your jaw hit the floor. “JUNGKOOK. YOU TRAITOR?!”
He choked on his milkshake, coughing violently.
“I'm not traitor! I was being responsible! You were a runaway—I had to make sure your parents didn’t think I kidnapped you!”
Your dad chuckled.
“He told us you were safe. We trust Jungkook. Always have. Didn’t expect you two to… end up together, though.”
Jungkook’s mom jumped in, smiling like she’d been waiting her whole life for this.
“Oh, please. I called this when you were twelve, Jungkook. You’ve been mooning over her since she borrowed your crayons in art class.”
“Mom!” Jungkook groaned, face buried in his hands as his ears turned crimson.
You? You were laughing so hard you nearly face-planted into the milkshake. “Oh my GOD, you’re all embarrassing.”
Your dad smirked. “Just don’t pull any more runaway bride stunts with some rich Political man's son. My blood pressure can’t handle it. Also—Jungkook, you’re paying for our dinner cause you basically helped her in running.”
“WHAT?! I’m the victim here!” Jungkook spluttered, waving his fork like a sword.
You leaned your head on his shoulder, grinning like your heart couldn’t hold all this chaos.
And maybe it couldn’t.
But as Jungkook squeezed your hand under the table, his thumb tracing slow circles, you knew one thing for sure—messy or not, this was perfect.
"Welcome to my little fic corner! Here’s a organized collection of my fics. I’ll keep updating this as I post more!"
👉 Main Account - @kittenan / kittenan.tumblr.com
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Both are active and I’ll be posting new fics, updates, & reuploads on both accounts. 🤗
✨MASTERLIST ✨
Minors [DNI] - 18+ content ⚠️🔞🛑
Disclaimer: All works on this blog are purely fictional and created for entertainment purposes only. They do not reflect the real personalities, actions, or relationships of the individuals mentioned.
Quick note: I only write member x reader fics 💌, so please don’t send requests for member x member ships
(last updated: [11/07/2026])
Latest Work: [The Music Between Us]
RM - Masterlist
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Disclaimer: The following fics feature a consensual polyamorous relationship. If that’s not your cup of tea, feel free to skip! 💜
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Crack Fics/ Other Random GIF POVs and all, etc...
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Pairing: Demon!Jungkook x Human!Reader
Genre: Demon AU, Supernatural smut, hurt/comfort(kinda), fluff
Warnings: Explicit sexual content, Demon Jungkook (Prince of Lust), praise kink, oral (f & m receiving), unprotected sex/ creampi [avoid IRL], dirty talk, fingering, multiple orgasms, body worship, squirting, Balcony sex (slight Exhibitionism), Bedroom sex, self-doubt & body insecurity, soft-dom Jungkook, slight possessiveness, open ending!!??
Rating: 18+ | Minors DNI
Word Count: ~5k
Summary: After too many breakups, ending with the same cruel words... “you don’t react much during sex,” you stand on your balcony at 3 a.m. and whisper your insecurities to the night. What happens when the night actually listens and it sends him?
[MASTERLIST]
The night air in Seoul was cool against your bare arms as you leaned over the balcony railing, the city lights blurring into a hazy glow far below.
Your voice cracked on the last words, half-whisper, half-sob.
“Maybe they’re right. Maybe I really don’t know how to please a man. Maybe I’m just… broken down there.”
The sentence hung in the dark like smoke.
Then the shadows on the balcony thickened... slowly, deliberately, as though the night itself had decided to lean in and listen.
A low, velvet chuckle rolled over your shoulder.
Close. Too close.
It vibrated through your spine like a bassline you could feel in your bones. “Careful what you confess to the night, kitten. Some of us listen… and some of us answer.”
You spun so fast your wine glass nearly tipped from the railing.
He was leaning against the sliding doorframe like he’d always belonged there—black silk shirt unbuttoned halfway down his chest, revealing the sharp cut of collarbones.
Dark hair fell in soft, tousled waves across his forehead.
His eyes—god, his eyes were dark, almost black in the low light. Full lips curved into something that was half smile, half threat. And a dark shadow of black wings behind him that made you tremble slightly.
No horns. No tail. Just devastating, impossible beauty that made your lungs forget how to work.
Your mouth opened. Nothing came out.
He pushed off the frame with lazy grace and took one step closer. The air warmed instantly, carrying the scent of smoke, amber, expensive cologne, and something darker—something that smelled like sex and sin distilled into one breath.
“Cat got your tongue already?” His voice was silk dragged over gravel. “I haven’t even touched you yet.”
You swallowed. Tried again. “W—who… are you?”
He stopped just inside your personal space—close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off him, but not touching.
Not yet.
“People have called me many things over the centuries.” He studied your face like he was memorizing every micro-expression.
The way your lips parted, the flutter at the base of your throat, the way your pupils had blown wide. “Asmodeus. The Prince of Lust. The Devourer of Desire. But those names are… for world.”
Another step.
Now the toes of his boots nearly brushed yours.
“You, though…” His gaze dropped to your mouth, then dragged slowly back up. “You can call me Jungkook.”
The name landed like a spark.
“Jung—Jungkook?” It came out higher than you meant, cracked at the edges. “You’re… you’re him? The Prince of Lust?”
A slow, predatory smile spread across his lips—slow enough that you could watch every inch of it form.
“The one and only.” He leaned in until his mouth hovered over the shell of your ear, breath warm and deliberate. “And I’ve been waiting—patiently—for someone brave enough, or stupid enough, to say out loud exactly what you just said.”
Your heart slammed against your ribs so hard you were sure he could hear it.
“You should scream,” he murmured, almost gently. “You should run. Call for help. Throw that wine glass at my face. Most humans do one of those things when they realize what’s standing in front of them.”
He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes again.
The crimson ring around his irises flared brighter for a heartbeat—like he was letting you see the truth of him—then dimmed back to something almost human.
“But you haven’t,” he continued, voice dropping lower. “Not yet. Your pulse is racing under that pretty skin… and your thighs just pressed together. Tell me, kitten—”
He lifted a hand, slow, giving you every chance to flinch away.
You didn’t.
He traced the line of your jaw with the back of one knuckle, feather-light. “Are you scared… or are you curious?”
Your breath hitched. The touch was barely there, but it lit every nerve ending like a match struck in the dark.
“I—” Your voice failed.
You tried again, smaller. “I don’t know what I am right now.”
His thumb brushed the corner of your mouth—lingering.
“Liar,” he whispered, almost fond. “You know exactly what you are. You’re the girl who just begged the night to prove her wrong. And the night sent me.”
He stepped even closer until your back met the railing, cool metal biting through your thin shirt while his body heat wrapped around you like a second skin.
“I heard every word,” he said, voice rougher now.
“Every doubt. Every time one of those pathetic boys left you feeling like your body was wrong. Like you weren’t enough.” His eyes darkened. “They were wrong. And I’m going to enjoy showing you... very slowly... how fucking perfect you are.”
Your knees trembled.
He caught it—saw the tiny shake—and his expression softened for half a second, something almost tender flashing through the hunger.
“I won’t hurt you,” he said quietly. “But I am going to touch you. I’m going to taste you. I’m going to fuck every last shred of doubt out of this sweet little body until you can’t remember their names—only mine.”
He leaned in again, lips brushing the shell of your ear.
“Say stop… and I vanish. No tricks. No consequences.”
Silence stretched. You didn’t say stop.
Instead, your fingers curled into the front of his silk shirt, trembling.
Jungkook exhaled—a low, pleased sound that vibrated against your skin. “Good girl.”
His mouth found the side of your throat... not a kiss, not yet, just the barest graze of lips.
“Now,” he murmured, “let me prove them wrong.”
And then his hand slid down your body—slow, deliberate—until his palm cupped your waist, pressing just enough to make your hips jerk forward on instinct.
The first real sound you made was a broken, needy whimper.
He smiled against your neck. “That’s it, kitten. Let me hear you.”
He was right. You should scream. You should run but instead your thighs clenched. He noticed. Of course he did.
But the only thing that mattered was the heat of him.
Jungkook pressed chest-to-chest against you, pinning your back to the cold balcony railing. Your long sleep shirt had ridden up slightly from the way your hips kept twitching toward him.
Underneath, only thin cotton panties clung to you, already damp and clinging obscenely.
He never looked away.
“Look at you,” he purred, lips brushing the corner of your mouth, voice so low it vibrated through your bones.
“Already soaked through these pathetic little panties just because I whispered in your ear. Those useless boys really fucked with your head, huh? Convinced you this perfect, greedy pussy couldn’t take what it needs.”
His large hand slid down the front of your body, fingers splaying wide over your stomach before dipping lower. When his palm finally cupped your mound through the damp cotton, you jolted, a sharp gasp tearing from your throat.
He chuckled darkly against your jaw. “Shhh, kitten. Don’t fight it. Let me feel how badly you’ve been aching for someone who actually knows what the fuck they’re doing.”
Without warning, two long fingers hooked under your panties.
He yanked the fabric roughly to the side... exposing you to the cool night air, and plunged both fingers deep inside you in one smooth, ruthless stroke.
Your cry cracked through the quiet night.
“Fuuuck—listen to that filthy sound,” he groaned low against your throat, pumping slowly at first, letting you feel every thick knuckle stretch and drag along your walls.
“So fucking wet it’s obscene. You’re soaking my hand already, dripping down to my wrist like you’ve been edged for years. Waiting for fingers that actually know how to wreck it.”
Your hands flew to his shoulders, nails biting into black silk as your back arched harder over the railing, forcing your hips to chase up and take him deeper.
The metal pressed into your lower spine, holding you open, vulnerable, exactly how he wanted. “Jungkook... Oh God—”
He curled his fingers viciously, hooking right into that swollen, sensitive spot and rubbing with merciless precision.
“No God here tonight,” he snarled softly, free hand sliding up to wrap around your throat... not squeezing, just possessive, thumb stroking the racing pulse under your jaw.
“Just me. Say my name again. Louder. Let the whole fucking city know who’s finally making this pussy sing.”
“Jungkook!” It came out half-scream, half-sob as he forced a third finger inside, stretching you wide, pistoning faster—wet, lewd squelches echoing obscenely between your bodies.
“That’s it—fuck my fingers like the desperate little thing you are,” he growled, lips brushing your ear now.
“Feel how your walls are sucking me in? Clenching like they never want to let go? You’ve been wasting this perfect, sloppy cunt on boys who couldn’t find your spot with a map. But I found it in two seconds flat, didn’t I? And I’m gonna make you fucking explode because of it.”
Your thighs quaked violently.
Heat coiled low and tight—too intense, too fast... like something inside you was about to shatter.
“Jungkook... wait... I’m gonna—fuck, I can’t...”
“Don’t you dare hold it back,” he hissed, forehead pressed hot to yours, eyes burning into you.
“Squirt for me, kitten. Soak my hand. Ruin these pretty little panties. Make a fucking puddle on the balcony. I want to feel this tight hole gush and pulse and drench me. Be my good girl and give it... now.”
He twisted his wrist just right, thumb finding your clit... pressing down hard, rubbing fast, tight circles while his fingers fucked deeper, curled harder, punishing that spot on every brutal thrust.
Your vision whited out.
Legs shaking uncontrollably. A broken sob tore from your throat.
“I can’t... I can’t stop...”
“Then don’t,” he commanded, voice pure velvet sin. “Come on. Drench me. Spray all over my fingers like the filthy, perfect girl you were born to be. Let it fucking gush... now.”
The dam inside you burst.
Your back bowed violently against the railing, head thrown back, mouth open in a raw, shattered scream as you came—hard—gushing in hot, pulsing waves around his fingers.
Slick heat flooded his hand, soaked through your bunched-up panties, ran in rivulets down your inner thighs, and dripped onto the balcony tiles below.
“Fuuuuck yes... look at you,” Jungkook groaned like he was in pain from how good it felt, eyes blown black, watching every tremor that wracked your body.
“Squirting like a goddamn fountain. So fucking beautiful when you finally let go. Keep going—ride it out, baby. Milk my fingers. Squeeze. Give me every last drop.”
You did... clenching and fluttering helplessly around his thick digits as aftershocks rolled through you, more slick spilling with every slow, deliberate pump he gave to drag the orgasm out longer.
When you finally collapsed forward, boneless and trembling, lungs burning, he eased his fingers out with agonizing slowness bringing them up between your faces.
They glistened obscenely under the moonlight, coated to the knuckles, strings of your release connecting them.
He held your dazed gaze as he sucked them clean... slow, deliberate drags of his tongue—moaning deep in his throat like you were the most addictive thing he’d ever tasted.
“Perfect,” he rasped, voice wrecked with hunger. “You taste like fucking sin.”
Then he leaned in and kissed you... deep, filthy, letting you taste every trace of yourself on his tongue while his other arm banded tight around your waist to keep your shaking legs from giving out.
“See?” he whispered against your swollen lips. “Nothing broken about you. Just waiting for someone good enough—and patient enough—to make you fucking flood.”
He nipped your bottom lip. “And I’m nowhere near finished proving it, kitten.”
He spun you around so fast the world tilted.
Your face now facing the city skyline, hands slamming back onto the railing for balance as he dropped to his knees behind you.
The cool night air kissed your suddenly bare skin when he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties and yanked them down your thighs in one rough, impatient motion.
They tangled at your ankles. He didn’t bother pulling them off completely.
Then his mouth was on you.
The first long, flat swipe of his tongue from your entrance to your clit ripped a broken cry from your throat.
Your vision whited out for a heartbeat—pure, electric overload.
He devoured you like a man starved for centuries—messy, filthy, shameless. Growls vibrated against your soaked folds as his tongue plunged inside you, fucking in and out in slow, deliberate strokes before dragging up to circle your clit.
He sucked hard... hard enough that your hips jerked forward involuntarily, slamming your pelvis against the railing.
“Ride my face,” he ordered, voice thick and muffled against your cunt. “Use me, kitten. Grind that pretty pussy on my tongue like you’ve been dying to. Show me exactly how bad you need someone to worship you properly.”
You obeyed without thinking—shame long gone.
You pushed back shamelessly, rolling your hips, chasing the wet heat of his mouth. Your fingers turned white-knuckled on the metal railing as every time his nose bumped your swollen clit, a high, desperate whimper spilled out of you.
“Fuck... your pussy’s crying for me,” he groaned, the sound raw and reverent. He pulled back just enough to speak against your dripping folds, hot breath fanning over you.
“So fucking wet, so sweet… tastes like sin and all the apologies those worthless boys never deserved. I could drink from you for centuries and still beg for more.”
His hands gripped the backs of your thighs, spreading you wider, holding you open as he dove back in... tongue flicking fast over your clit now, then dipping low to lap at the fresh gush of slick leaking out of you.
“You’re shaking already,” he murmured between long, obscene licks.
“Bet those boys never even bothered to taste you like this, did they? Never took their sweet fucking time to learn what makes this perfect little cunt flutter and drip.”
He sucked your clit between his lips again... slow pull, then a sharp flick of his tongue, and your knees nearly buckled.
“But look at you now,” he rasped, voice dripping with dark pride.
“Falling apart so beautifully just from my mouth. So responsive. So fucking perfect. You were never the problem, kitten. They were. They never deserved to hear these pretty sounds you’re making for me.”
Another hard suck. Your thighs trembled violently.
“Bet they never told you how good you taste,” he continued, words vibrating right against your core.
“Never praised this sweet, greedy pussy while they were buried in it. Never told you how fucking gorgeous you look when you’re this close—cheeks flushed, lips parted, hips grinding like you can’t get enough. But I will. Every damn time.”
He flattened his tongue and dragged it up slowly... once, twice... letting you feel every ridge, every deliberate pass.
“You’re doing so good for me,” he praised, softer now, almost tender despite the filth. “Let me feel how much you love being eaten like you’re the only thing that matters in the world—because right now, you are.”
Your whole body started to seize... muscles locking, breath coming in ragged sobs. When the tremors turned violent and your legs threatened to give out completely, he finally pulled back.
He rose in one fluid motion, spun you around to face him again.
His eyes were pure black now—pupils blown, crimson edges flickering like dying embers. His lips and chin glistened with you, shiny and obscene under the moonlight.
He looked like sin personified.
And he was staring at you like you were his salvation.
Without a word, he bent, hooked his arms under your thighs, and lifted you like you weighed nothing. Your legs wrapped around his waist on instinct, ankles locking at the small of his back.
Your soaked core pressed hot against the hard ridge of him through his pants, and you both groaned at the contact.
“Feel that?” he murmured against your mouth, not kissing yet—just breathing you in.
“That’s what you do to me. One taste of you and I’m fucking ruined. Those boys ever get this hard just from eating you out? Ever carry you inside like you’re precious because they couldn’t wait another second to be inside you?”
You shook your head, dazed, clinging to his shoulders.
“Didn’t think so.” His voice dropped lower, velvet and dangerous. “They didn’t know what they had. But I do. And I’m gonna spend all night showing you exactly how fucking worthy you are, kitten.”
He started walking backward toward the sliding door, your weight nothing to him, lips finally brushing yours in a slow, filthy promise.
“Bedroom,” he growled softly. “Now. I’m not done praising this perfect body until you believe every word.”
He carried you inside, kicked the balcony door shut with his heel, and laid you down on the bed like you were something fragile and priceless.
The mattress dipped under your weight, cool sheets a sharp contrast to the feverish heat still radiating from your skin.
Then he stepped back.
And began to undress.
Your breath snagged in your throat at every deliberate reveal.
The slow slide of black silk off broad shoulders, the flex of carved abs under moonlight spilling through the curtains, the deep V of his hips arrowing down into low-slung black briefs that did nothing to hide the thick, straining outline beneath.
He palmed himself through the fabric... once, lazily, watching your eyes track the motion like you were hypnotized.
“On your knees, kitten,” he murmured, voice low and velvet-dark. “Right here on the bed. I want you comfortable while you learn how good you can be for me.”
Heart slamming against your ribs, you scrambled up onto your knees... sheets bunching under you, facing him at the edge of the mattress.
The height was perfect.
Your mouth level with his hips, close enough to feel the heat rolling off him. He hooked his thumbs into the waistband and dragged the briefs down just enough.
Your mouth went instantly dry.
Thick. Long. Perfectly curved upward, veins pulsing under flushed skin, the fat, glistening tip already weeping precum in slow, obscene beads.
“I—I’ve never…” Your voice cracked, small and shaky. “I’ve never done this before. What if I’m bad at it? What if I can’t… make you feel good?”
Jungkook crouched immediately, bringing himself eye-level with you. His hands... warm, steady... cupped your face, thumbs brushing away the nervous tremble in your lower lip.
“Listen to me, baby,” he said, voice suddenly soft, deadly soft, the kind of quiet that made your pulse stutter.
“You cannot disappoint me. Not tonight. Not ever. This cock?” He wrapped one hand around the base and gave himself one slow, deliberate stroke, letting you watch the way it throbbed in response.
“It changes for you. Grows when you want more. Shrinks when you need gentle. Curves however deep your pretty throat can take tonight. All you have to do is try. All you have to do is let me feel how much you want to please me.”
He leaned closer, lips brushing your forehead.
“You’re already pleasing me just by looking at me like that—like you’re starving and scared and soaked all at once. That’s enough. More than enough.”
He rose again, guiding the swollen head to rest against your bottom lip... hot, slick, velvet-soft. “Open for me, kitten.”
You parted your lips on a shaky exhale.
He slid in... slow... watching your eyes the entire time, never breaking contact.
“Fuck... look at that pretty mouth stretching around me,” he groaned, the sound ripping low from his chest. “So fucking perfect. Just like that… relax your throat, baby. Breathe through your nose. Let me in.”
The tip nudged the back of your throat and you gagged softly—reflex, not pain.
He froze instantly.
Didn’t push.
Just held there, one hand cradling the back of your head, the other stroking your cheek.
“Easy,” he soothed. “You’re doing so good already. Feel that? I’m pulling back a little… see? Smaller now. Just enough so you can breathe.”
True to his word, the length eased... shortened subtly, giving you room. You inhaled shakily around him, tears pricking the corners of your eyes from the fullness, the stretch, the overwhelming gentleness of his touch even as filthy praise spilled from his lips.
“Good girl. So fucking good. Look at you taking me like you were made for it.”
You moaned... muffled, helpless, around his cock.
The vibration made him hiss.
“Goddamn, listen to you choking so sweetly,” he rasped, starting a slow, shallow rhythm now. “You love it, don’t you? Love being stuffed full of demon cock, drooling all over it like my perfect little good girl.”
You nodded frantically, eyes watering, cheeks burning.
He chuckled—dark, pleased—and rolled his hips deeper. “Eyes on me, kitten. Let me see those pretty tears while you suck your demon like a good girl.”
You lifted your gaze. His were blown black, pupils swallowing the iris, crimson edges flickering like embers.
“Fuck... gonna ruin you for every human man that ever comes after me,” he growled. “They’ll never fill your mouth like this. Never make you cry so prettily just from trying.”
He thrust a little deeper... then, without warning, you felt it, the sudden swell. His cock thickened noticeably inside your mouth, stretching your lips wider, pushing against the roof and the sides until your gag reflex kicked hard.
You choked... loud, wet, tears spilling over instantly.
He groaned like the sound punched straight through him.
“Too much?” he teased, voice wrecked with lust. “Poor baby… can’t handle when I grow for you?”
You whimpered around him, shaking your head even as drool leaked from the corners of your mouth.
“Liar,” he murmured, stroking your hair. “You clenched so hard just now. You like it when I tease you. When I make you take more than you think you can.”
He eased back again... shrinking just enough for mercy... then slid forward once more, letting you feel the deliberate pulse as he thickened again, slow and torturous.
“Fuck... feel that stretch? That’s me filling your throat exactly how much you can handle tonight. You’re doing so fucking well, kitten. Choking so beautifully for me. Making those little gagging sounds that go straight to my balls.”
You moaned louder... broken, needy... trying to take him deeper despite the burn in your jaw.
“That’s it,” he praised, hips rolling in shallow, controlled thrusts. “Suck harder. Use that tongue. Show me how much you want to be good for me.”
Your hands flew to his thighs for balance, nails digging in as you hollowed your cheeks and tried... really tried... to please him.
He hissed sharply. “Fuck yes... look at you trying so hard. My perfect, eager little thing.”
He pulled out suddenly... slow, strings of spit and precum connecting your swollen lips to his glistening cock.
You gasped for air, chest heaving, tears streaking your cheeks.
He crouched again, thumbs wiping the mess from your face with reverent care.
“See?” he whispered, voice rough with something dangerously close to adoration. “Told you. You’re fucking incredible.”
He kissed you then... deep, filthy, tasting himself on your tongue... before guiding you back down.
“On your back,” he commanded, voice rough with need. “Legs wide, kitten. I want to watch every inch of that pretty pussy take me.”
You scrambled to obey, heart racing so fast it hurt.
You fell back onto the sheets, knees bending, thighs spreading wide—exposing everything to his hungry gaze. The cool air kissed your slick folds, making you shiver, but the heat in his eyes burned hotter than any chill.
Jungkook crawled over you like a predator claiming his prize.
His arms bracketed your head, caging you beneath him, biceps flexing as he held himself up. The tip of his cock... still glistening from your mouth, nudged against your entrance, teasing, sliding through your wetness without pushing in yet.
“Tell me you want it raw,” he growled, eyes locked on yours, crimson edges flaring. “Say it like you mean it.”
Your voice trembled, barely above a whisper. “I... I want it raw, Jungkook. Please.”
“Not good enough.” He leaned down, lips brushing your ear, voice a velvet threat. “Beg me properly. Beg your demon to fuck you bare, to fill you up until you’re dripping with me.”
You swallowed hard, thighs quivering. “Please, Jungkook… please fuck me raw. Fill me. I need it—I need you inside me. I need you to claim me, to ruin me, to make me forget every other touch. Please...”
His eyes darkened to pure black.
“Good girl,” he snarled, and then he slammed himself in one brutal, unrelenting stroke.
You screamed... pleasure so sharp it danced on the edge of pain, your walls stretching around his thick length, every ridge and vein dragging against your sensitive insides.
Your back arched off the bed, nails digging into his shoulders.
“Fuck... yes... tight little heaven,” he groaned, hips snapping forward again, burying himself to the hilt.
“Feel that? This cunt was fucking made for me. Made to take demon cock. So hot, so wet, so fucking perfect—squeezing me like you never want to let go.”
He fucked you hard—deep—relentless.
Each thrust punched the air from your lungs, the wet slap of skin on skin filling the room. But even as his hips drove into you with punishing force, his hands stayed gentle.
One laced tightly with yours, fingers intertwined, the other cupping your cheek, thumb stroking away the tears that spilled over.
“Look at me,” he growled, slowing just enough to make you feel every inch as he dragged out and slammed back in. “Look at who’s fucking the doubt out of you. Who’s making this pussy sing. Say my name while I wreck you.”
“Jungkook,” you gasped, eyes locked on his—tears streaming down your temples, blurring your vision. “Jungkook—FUCKKK—”
“Yes,” he groaned, voice low and filthy. “Say it. Say you’re perfect. Say this pussy is perfect. Say it like you fucking believe it.”
“I’m... fuck... I’m perfect,” you choked out, voice breaking on every thrust. “My pussy’s perfect—!”
“Louder,” he demanded, hips rolling deeper, grinding against that spot inside you that made stars explode behind your eyes. “Let me hear it. Let the whole damn city know.”
“I’M PERFECT!” you cried, voice raw and desperate. “THIS PUSSY IS PERFECT FOR YOU! IT’S YOURS—ONLY YOURS!”
He groaned like the words punched straight through him, hips stuttering for a second before he picked up the pace again... harder, faster.
“That’s my girl,” he rasped, pride and hunger dripping from every word. “My perfect fucking girl. Gonna mark you inside and out.”
“Cum for me,” he commanded, voice wrecked. “Cum on your demon’s cock. Show me how good you can be. Milk me dry, kitten. Let me feel that perfect pussy flutter and squeeze.”
You shattered... screaming his name like a prayer, walls clamping down around him in violent, pulsing waves. Slick heat gushed around his cock, soaking the sheets beneath you.
“Fuck... yes... give it to me,” he snarled, thrusts growing erratic. “So fucking tight... milking me so good... fuck—”
He followed with a guttural moan, hips slamming forward one last time as he came... flooding you with endless, thick heat.
It spilled out around his cock, dripping down your thighs, marking you inside and out. His body shuddered above you, breath ragged against your neck.
He didn’t pull out.
He stayed buried deep, softening slowly inside you, kissing your tears with tender brushes of his lips. One hand stroked your hair back from your sweat-damp forehead.
“See?” he murmured, voice soft now, almost reverent. “Told you. You please me just fine. More than fine... you fucking ruin me.”
His lips found your ear, breath warm.
The moon watched through the open curtains, silver light spilling across your tangled bodies. And for the first time in a long time, you believed you were enough.
