synopsis : You and Minho pretend to be dating just to get a special discount for couples at a cafe, and from that day forward he decides it’d be a funny idea to treat you as his girlfriend. Just for funsies, yes, ofc.
📝 writing lino is so fun he’s so tsundere-like. Also I almost named this as ‘case 143’ but I thought it wouldn’t really convey the fic vibe idk 🤷♀️ anyways i hope u enjoy it !! <3
tags : Lee Know x fem!reader, fluff, friends to lovers, fake dating as a starting point, ‘what are we’ kinda vibe, sarcasm, mixed signals (not on purpose tho, you’re both just confusing with your emotions lol), lino is referred as Minho
reminder: this is all a made-up fan-fiction just for fun!
It was hard to describe your relationship with Minho. Well, you’re friends. At least that’s what you’re supposed to be.
It was known he wasn’t that open with his emotions and always had a sarcastic comment to make instead. It was hard to tell what’s on his mind, but maybe that’s why you both clicked so well. You were more reserved yourself after all. Just like that, what began as jokes and sillyness evolved into a strong friendship like no other. Over time he became the most trustworthy person you knew. And funniest. And very, very good looking. You might also have this tiny little crush on him. But that’s only a detail, of course.
At this point, you were used to hiding what you felt. However things started getting complicated after that stupid idea. And now you couldn’t tell if he might feel the same or not.
evidence i.
“There’s a discount for couples today,” Minho commented as you both read the big letters on the cafe poster you were about to enter.
“You’re not thinking what I’m thinking,” you say already laughing, and the mischievous look on his face told you everything.
“It’s 35% off, that’s almost a free extra drink!” He chuckles. “Come on, I think we can be very convincing if we try,” he adds already taking your hand on his, intertwining your fingers and leading you inside. You can’t hold back the big smile that forms on your lips.
You both go straight to the attendant to ask for the promotional drinks, hoping for the best.
“Yes, our smoothies are on a special promotion for love birds,” the lady on the balcony explained politely. “Choose two flavors and you get the 35% off.”
“Great!” Minho cheered, his hand leaving yours to go firmly on your waist, bringing you closer, and you hope the way your eyes slightly widen isn’t obvious. He takes the menu. “I think I’ll go with strawberry banana. What about you, love?”
It took you a second to realize he was actually talking to you. Like yes, you’re ‘love’.
“Oh, I… I’d like the same as you, honey,” you say fast so you wouldn’t have to think too much, the pet name sounding strangely nice.
The woman nods as she registers your order. You’re opening your purse to get your wallet when Minho interrupts you.
“I’ll pay, don’t worry babe,” he winks, making you pause in confusion.
“Huh?” You tilt your head. You then steal a glance at the lady and remember you’re supposed to be playing along. You quickly try to disguise your surprise. “We can split, darling, I don’t mind.”
“Come on, it’s our anniversary, of course I’ll pay for us,” he improvises, already tapping his card on the payment terminal before you could protest.
“Oh, anniversary?” The lady looks up at you with curious eyes. “How long have you been together if you don’t mind me asking?”
“One year,” he replies promptly. You nod.
“Aw, that’s sweet. You two look so lovely together, I can tell just by the way you look at each other,” she compliments.
“We get that a lot,” he comments with a small laugh, his hand squeezing your shoulder. You grin to be polite, a bit too aware of his hand on you. It almost makes you miss the way his ears get redder.
“I’ll get your drinks, wait just a moment, please,” the attendant smiles as she turns her back to prepare the drinks.
“Copy cat,” Minho whispers when she’s not looking anymore. “You were supposed to choose a different flavor so I could steal from you.”
“I didn’t expect this to work, I’m nervous!” You whisper back.
“Why wouldn’t it work? You thought they’d ask us to kiss as proof or something?”
“Of course not, that’s not what I meant!” You hiss with your voice low, your cheeks getting a bit warmer.
“Here’s your order,” the friendly woman comes back with tasty smoothies, making you cease your banter immediately. “I hope you have a very special day today. You’re very lucky to have such an attentive gentleman by your side,” she says playfully glancing at you.
“Of course, thank you so much,” you shyly reply, trying to ignore the smirk that was growing on Minho’s face.
You sit on a table near the window, smoothies in hand. You can’t help but feel distracted by all that just happened.
“Wasn’t the discount the whole point of doing this?” You finally ask when you felt your cheeks weren’t on fire anymore.
“Yeah, she did discount it.” He shrugs with the straw between his teeth, already finished with almost one quarter of his drink.
“Then why did you pay for both of us? You ended up spending more anyways.”
He averted his eyes for a second before that smirk returned to his face. “Can’t I be a gentleman to my girlfriend?”
“We’re not actually dating,” you manage to say.
He pinched your cheek. “I got you a 100% discount, so stop complaining.”
evidence ii.
After that day at the cafe, for some unknown reason, Minho thought it’d be a funny idea to treat you as his girlfriend from time to time and started using pet names nonstop. Ironically, of course, as if it was an innocent inside joke. Or at least that’s what it looked like. But your heart couldn’t differentiate a joke from the real thing apparently.
That Tuesday you were at his place helping him with ideas to finish writing a sketch needed for a project which deadline was like, yesterday.
“Can you get the red pen for me, princess?” He asked you after taking some notes.
“Sure.”
“Thank you, honey,” he gave you his signature smirk before going back to writing frantically.
It all sounded like teasing, it definitely was, but it was starting to drive you crazy. Minho’s mixed signals were getting to you, and you couldn’t tell anymore if that was his way of flirting or if he was messing around as usual.
“Shoot, Chan’s already coming to get this paper,” Minho woke you up from your thoughts as soon as his phone screen lightens up with a notification. “He’s gonna nag at me the whole day if this isn’t done when he gets here…”
“You kinda deserve it,” you chuckle.
“It’s not like he didn’t finish his part on the last minute either,” he pouts, still writing.
“Ask him to buy snacks or cat food on his way,” you suggest. “That will buy you at least 15 minutes to finish it.”
“Ooh, genius,” he snapped his fingers and quickly picked up his phone to type the message to Chan, but not without teasing you first. “You’re not just a pretty face after all, huh?”
You didn’t know whether to feel complimented or insulted. He glanced at you and immediately laughed at your expression.
“Can you at least thank me properly for saving you here?” You lightly push his shoulder as retort, the tips of your ears redder.
He looks up at you, that stupid grin still plastered on his face. “Sorry, sorry. You know I’m just messing with you.” The corners of this mouth relax into a more genuine smile. “I’m aware you’re very smart and you’re really, really helping me a lot today. Even if you didn’t have to, you are,” he emphasizes in a sincere tone, carefully tucking a hair strand behind your ear, fond eyes looking straight into yours.
“Of course,” you play it off, trying not to sound as shy as you were getting. “You’ve helped me a lot before too so… It’s only natural.”
“Hm-hum. We’re partners in crime,” he nods, and pauses as if he realizes what he just said. He then gives you a look, his smirk making a return. “Who else would I call in this situation if not my beautiful lover?”
Oh, this again.
“Yeah, sure. Now finish this quickly before Chan gets here,” you chuckle, trying to disguise the way your heart skipped a beat.
evidence iii.
“Horror movie? I’m not sure…” You mumble as you both stand at the movie theater entrance, Minho’s film suggestion not being exactly to your taste.
“This one is not that scary, it’s just a bunch of silly jumpscares. Come on, it will be fun! I’ll even let you embrace me if you’re that terrified, since I’m so reliable.” He bumps your shoulder trying to convince you. “Seriously, you’ll like this one, I promise!”
“You’re insufferable.”
You end up agreeing to go anyways.
He guided you to the tickets balcony with a hand securely on your shoulder. The attendant showed you the available seats on the computer screen. It wasn’t sold out, but it wasn’t empty either, so you still had a few options to choose from.
“Wanna get the seats for couples in the back?” He suddenly suggested.
You knew what he was talking about. The last seats on that movie theater were reserved for couples because you could fold up the center armrests in order to cuddle your partner closer. Now why was he offering that.
You turned to look at him, and he playfully lifted his eyebrows at you. Gosh. He was just teasing you wasn’t he. Why would you cuddle in a horror movie session anyway.
“No thanks,” you answer without thinking, but your heart was thumping on your ears. “Let’s just stick to the seats next to the stairs,” you say, avoiding his eyes this time.
“Pshh, you’re no fun,” he breathes out a small laugh, but selects the seats you picked anyways. He went a bit quieter as he bought popcorn. Meanwhile, you just stood there not sure how unserious he was with all of this.
You couldn’t really focus on the movie that day.
And he didn’t try anything the whole session besides laughing when you got scared.
evidence iv.
“I kinda missed you,” he said with a genuine smile when you bumped into each other by coincidence.
“It’s been barely a week,” you shrugged, trying to keep it together.
“Doesn’t matter,” he replied, his lips curving into a smirk. “Can’t I miss my girlfriend?”
Yeah, sure.
You sigh. How you wish this could be true. But what if you speak up your mind and make a fool out of yourself? Would it ruin your friendship? What if he laughed at your face?? One hundred different scenarios go through your head to make you give up. …but suddenly your eyes lighten up as an idea came to mind. If he was just teasing you, you could correspond jokingly as well. Just to test the waters.
“If you wanted to see me that much you could have asked me out on a date.”
He stiffens instantly, like he didn’t expect you to actually play along. You never did until now.
“Date?” He echoes just to make sure, eyes slightly widened.
“Yes, honey. That’s what lovers usually do.”
“Really?” He tilts his head, trying to get the teasing tone back to his voice without much success. “So you won’t run off if I ask you out?”
“Run off? You’re ridiculous,” you can’t help but chuckle at his reaction, but you try to stay in character. “Why would I? We’ve been on dates before, haven’t we? The movies and that cafe.”
“…I see.” He finally nod, a tint of red coloring his cheeks. He clears his throat, and you could swear you’ve never seen him act so shy, his behavior changing so suddenly. “In that case, would you like to go out with me? I could… pick you up tomorrow afternoon.”
You felt like your heart was going to burst.
evidence v.
That day, there weren’t pet names. There weren’t couple jokes either. Actually, you were both a bit tense about the date.
“You know, I chose the cat cafe in hopes it wouldn’t be so awkward but I guess it didn’t work,” he says eventually with an embarassed laugh.
“No, it did work, the cats are cute,” you say quickly while caressing the feline sitting next to you. “I’m just a little distracted today.” A beat. “You’re also quieter.”
“Maybe,” he murmured, eyeing the kitten sleeping close to his leg.
“Yet you’re the one who was entertaining the whole lovers thing the most,” you comment. “I thought you’d be full of that today.”
“Well, yes, I was. But actually, I wanted to tell you that... How do I say it…” he bites his lip. “Today isn’t just teasing or playing pretend. I meant it when I asked you out.”
You feel your heart skip a beat. “I know,” you nodded. “I’m glad you did.”
“Yeah?” His tone softens. “I wasn’t sure if you were a fan of the idea since you were kinda pushing me away,” he admits as he fidgets with the straw of his drink.
“What? No, I wasn’t! Really,” you immediately try to explain, the cat next to you meowing in complain of your sudden move. You take a deep breath before continuing. “I’ve actually been overthinking it because I didn’t know whether it was all just a joke or if there was something more to it, so I was afraid of… you know… playing along and end up liking you even more to the point there wasn’t going back anymore,” you quietly finish.
He finally meets your eyes, taking a moment to really look at you.
“…That was the risk I was taking too.”
Your breath catches on your throat. He notices your silence and speaks again.
“I started this couple play-pretend thing because… You know.” He scratches the back of his neck, trying to find the words. “It felt like this way I could say and do all that stuff without scaring you off or sounding weird. Since we’ve been close friends for so long.”
Oh. Oh my.
“It wouldn’t sound weird. It would have worked from the beginning if you were just honest,” you say sheepishly, still trying to process his words.
“Yeah, I realize it now from that cute blush of yours,” he points out, making you redder.
“Oh, shut up,” you look down at the cat peacefully lying beside you again. There was a new feeling blooming in your chest. Giddy, fresh and safe, all at the same time.
“So…” he clears his throat. “May I take you to that cafe again this week? So we can get another couple discount and so I can do things for real this time. No play-pretends.”
And just like this, that excited, insistent smile you’ve been trying to hold back appears on your lips.
“…Will I get that 100% discount again?” You can’t help but tease.
“Sure, pretty.” He breathes out a laugh, not hiding his heart eyes either.
— ahhh this was longer than I expected but it’s kinda rushed at the same time..? anyways i think I’m happy with how it turned out ig dkdndjdj Lemme know what u guys think :))
Summary - in where at the rooftop bar a certain someone gets too close beyond liking to your boyfriend and you get a little possessive.
Warnings - jealousy, possessiveness, suggestive, kissing, Jungkook being a simp for his girl.
Pairings - idol!jk x idol!fem reader
( I do not own any of these characters and this is purely just fanfic)
You weren’t even supposed to come here, both your friends practically begged you two to come to the new rooftop bar in gangnam and now we are here.
The first time Jungkook noticed it he thought it was funny.
But the second time he wast so sure about that.
And by the third look from you he was so certain that you were jealous. Not in some toxic or dramatic way. You didn’t throw any drinks, you didn’t start an argument, you didn’t make any scenes.
It really wasn’t your thing to do.
But instead simply became very,very possessive after all he was your man and you made sure she knew that.
“No seriously get your hands off my man”
It didn’t come out my mouth directly but it played in my head over and over again.
He was there standing at the bar talking with his friends when she walked up to him.
It was winter. Of course it was winter always wanted something to do with Jungkook even if he was with me she made it very clear from the start and she would do anything to have him but then I came into the picture and started dating.
Of course theres backstory between why me and winter don’t like each other it was never about jungkook until recent.
I was the main vocalist and leader of the group aespa. There were four other members Karina, Giselle, ningning and of course winter. Winter never liked me from the start it was obvious to everyone I had everything the visuals, the voice and the public loved me and she didn’t like that.
and ever since me and Jungkook started dating she hated that more.
Across the room, my eyes narrowed
Just slightly
But fortunately for Jungkook he caught it.
And Jungkook being Jungkook he had to bite back a grin.
And there it was she looked up at him with those eyes those “I want to fuck you” eyes she giggled at something he said she even had the audacity to touch his arm.
My jaw tightened.
And I swear she looked over to me and leaned in closer to him
That’s what pissed me off the most she knew what she was doing she knows.
My hands gripped my cocktail glass harder my eyes glued to the interaction
She was doing this on purpose to mess with me
He looked at me across the rooftop it was just one look and he knew. He knew that look that look of “im about to commit a crime if she touches you one more time” and before he could come over to me I walk over to him instead.
Almost instantly jungkooks hand settled on my waist
Warm
Protective
Reassurance
“Hi baby” he says looking down at me I don’t say anything but instead look at the girl infront of me my eyes showed the irritation and possessiveness.
“Hi winter” I say with a tight smile my tone dripping with fake sweetness and she caught it
“hi” she says back looking between me and Jungkook as she takes a step back
“I was just congratulating Jungkook on the new bts album” she says almost quietly not so confident now
“Yeah sure you were, listen I don’t know what your problem is with me but don’t try to mess with my relationship with my man” I say voice laced with irritation
I grab jungkooks hand and lead him away from her
He looks down at me and smiles his hand still on my waist
“You’re so fucking sexy when you’re possessive baby” he says his breath tickling my ear
“I’m not possessive”
“Mhm you definitely are”
His thumb brushed my against my side a tiny movement but still there.
And yet somehow it was enough to send heat rushing through your entire body. “You were ready to fight her” he said smirking, that damn smirk.
“No I wasn’t”
“You were”
“I wasn’t”
“Mhm okay”
I pout and he laughs.
That laugh could make any woman melt it was warm and unfairly attractive.
“You know” he said lowering his voice “I kinda like it” and that sentence alone made my heart beat faster. I look up at him my voice barely audible “what…?” His finger tucks my hair behind my ear “the jealousy”
His gaze dropped to my lips then back to my eyes I caught it
It was deliberate and slow like he wanted me to see it he was tryna fuck with me and god it was working.
“You do?”
He lets out a small “mhm”
His fingers tightened slightly around my waist “it means you want me” and I swear when he said that his voice went huskier and that tone made my knees feel weak. Jeon Jungkook knew what he was doing
Of course he did.
His hands firmly sat on my waist and he slowly backed me up into the corner of the rooftop bar. It was dark only the moon lit up the corner.
It was obvious from earlier he only wanted me not winter not some other girl it was me that he wanted he made that absolutely clear to any girl who tried approaching him but it didint stop me from being jealous I mean he was the biggest kpop idol what woman wouldn’t want him right?
But when his eyes found me those godamn big dark doe eyes the jealousy in me faded and instead my heart beater faster.
It made our surroundings disappear
The crowd
The music
The people
It was all gone.
I just felt like it was only me and him in this world.
His hand goes to my check holding my face to look up at him. The height difference between me and Jungkook was obvious he was tall and muscular with those tattoos that made him just look so much more sexier. Something that people don’t know my name is tatted on him.
His body pressed close to mine enough to blur any thoughts in my mind. “You know what” me murmured. “What…?” I say almost out of breath he wets his bottom lip and says in a low voice “if you wanted my attention you could’ve just asked”
My cheeks tint a slight pink
“I always have you’re attention kookie” it was that nickname that made him sigh
Almost immediately he let out a “yeah”
“Yeah you do”
And for a good 30 seconds silence overtakes us his hand still on my cheek until he speaks
“You know nobody compares to you right?”
Fuck.
“Jungkook-“
That’s when he really looks into my eyes
“I’m serious” his voice dropped lower the recent teasing tone gone “I only look for you in the room” the confession settled between between us.
And suddenly I couldn’t remember why I was annoyed or jealous in the first place when this man just proved his point and made it clear that there’s no one else for him and fuck that made me feel weak.
His eyes lingered on my lips again
The tension was undeniable
Neither of us moved
Neither of us said a word until i did
“You keep looking at me like you want to kiss me”
“Maybe I do”
That’s all it took for me to crash my lips onto his, he kissed back immediately his tounge finding mine his hand on the back of my neck whilst the other firm on my waist.
In 20 minutes we were back in his penthouse his hands all over me
We stumble into the room my back hitting the mattress. He looks at me with blown out pupils his hair messy from my fingers running through them his lips swollen from kissing
He undoes his belt with one hand
Fuck that was hot
He gets on the bed and crashes his lips onto mine again this time it was messy like he was hungry for me and I was the same he pulled back and looked at me “fuck your so pretty princess” I sighed at that name
He wastes no time undoing my dress and throwing it across the room
I was left in nothing but a matching dark blue lace. His pupils dilated he wanted me he was hungry.
And all night he made sure I knew I was the only one I wanted.
“ I love you miss possessive”
———————————————————————————
Okay guys how do we feel about this fic?!
This is my first post so I know it won’t be the best but I hope you loved it as much as I loved writing it!! Jungkook is definitely a simp for reader!
synopsis: the guy of your dreams finally asks you on a date. the problem? you've barely had your first kiss—and he looks like he definitely knows what he's doing. panicking, you ask the campus resident playboy, choi yeonjun, for lessons. strictly practical. no feelings. no strings. except yeonjun isn't as experienced as everyone thinks.
✧ pairing: playboy student!choi yeonjun x student!reader
✧ genre/warnings: explicit sexual content (smut with plot, 18+ mdni), rom-com, college au, sexual exploration, coming of age, fwb, teaching trope, sexual themes & sexting, clumsy intimacy, love triangle-ish, smoking, alcohol/party settings, in chapter warnings to apply
✧ total word count: est. 35k~
✧ status: completed
✧ playlist | main masterlist
⊹ ࣪ ˖ index
teaser
lesson one
lesson two
lesson three
epilogue
read on wattpad
review your experience, thoughts, or unhinged feelings here
desc: you and minghao were homebodies, in every sense of the word. comfortable meditating together in your garden, content sipping complex red wines under the parasol, happy reading your respective books with interlinked pinkies. however, his new subunit has dragged you and all of your friends to a huge party and god, you look a bit too good for minghao to contain himself...
wc: 7.8k..this was supposed to be a drabble
note: happy (belated) v8 release!! this is my celebratory post so pls enjoy and im sorry for the delay! this is the first piece of smut i've ever written lol so pls don't mind if it's not amazing.. this was supposed to be 2k idk what happened lol. tysm miss @binniebean0 for beta-ing once again, ur the best ma lav <333
𝄞: silver jubilee by audrey hobert, v8 by the8 & vernon
Partying was way behind you. Like a distant moment of the past that you revisit once a year and swear to never look back at again. The thumping music and the dazzling lights are not so enticing when you have a gorgeous fiancé who gives such good massages. A brilliant fiancé who buys you books every time he leaves the country — each one picked with perfection, always aligning with your exact interests. An insane fiancé who sees you in your slacks, sweat-ridden after a long and humid day at work and thinks it’s the prime time to make a meal of you on the kitchen table.
Yeah, so homebodies you had become.
Really, who would want to leave the house when the human incarnation of a god, Xu Minghao, your soon-to-be husband, led intense and relaxing meditation sessions for you? In your vast garden, greenery swallowing the senses, the small swish of the coi pond pattering softly to one side, your lean fiancé speaking with ultimate rest dripping off of every word. It was like your own personal heaven!
But alas, work calls — Minghao had been working tirelessly with Vernon for their new subunit. Slipping in the front door early in the morning, cap pulled low as his feet dragged against the polished wooden floors, fatigue radiating off his body when he quietly pulled your body into his and cocooned himself around you.
This was no new routine; you’d been with Minghao for years, through comebacks, daesangs, scandals, you name it, you stood by his side, a solid and hushed rock. However, there was once upon a time when you and he enjoyed indulging in the bustling Seoul nightlife, awake until all hours of the night and dancing carelessly under strobe lights. It was an era you both look back at with soppy nostalgia.
The bass vibrated through the darkened club, the sound of a hyperpop song penetrating your flesh and transforming into sweet endorphins, a buzz of adrenaline and raw energy surging through you. Beside you, your best friends Jun and Mingyu nodded nonchalantly along to the beat — sunglasses securely over their eyes, making them resemble a pair of handsome bodyguards rather than two idols on their night off.
A mix of tequila and soda zipped through your straw as you leaned on the wall between the two, their chatter rapidly adapting to include you. ‘I mean, I never coined them for the clubbing type,’ Jun shrugged, halfway through a conversation with his bandmate, who had his eyes narrowed at his phone in his hand.
The three of you had perched on a balcony, watching the dance floor swarm with bodies, arms flailing to the music, heads bobbing to the beat. Dark purple and white lights flashed, illuminating the floor in brief intervals, revealing people intertwined with one another, others busy looking at their keys and some drunken party-goers grinding with lustful gazes.
‘Well, they’re on their way.’ Mingyu shrugged, pulling your gaze away from your inspection of a particularly messy make-out session in the middle of the crowd – gross.
‘Who is?’ You asked, lifting your drink lazily to your lips.
‘Remember Vernon and Minghao?’ Mingyu questioned, slinging his arm around your shoulders, his beer almost spilling onto your heels with his clumsy movement.
‘I know the names.’ You reply, nibbling on your straw and eyeing a broad-shouldered man, leant nonchalantly against the bar.
This was your routine: Jun and Mingyu would drag you to the club. Most of the time, the three of you partied yourselves out together, strolling home in fits of drunken giggles, Mingyu slung between you and Jun like a human piñata — letting his slackened body flop onto your sofa whilst you and Jun top-and-tailed. But occasionally, one of you would spot someone, get busy and be whisked away into the night.
‘They’re on their way.’ Mingyu finishes, and you shrug, preoccupied by the muscled man downstairs — Tall, dark and handsome.
As the music shifted, Jun pulled you eagerly onto the dance floor, ready to rock, twist, point, any drunken dance move that his body could conjure in the moment, a loud laugh escaping your lips when he pokes the person behind him.
The music was something booming, high-pitched vocals over a speedy tempo, making your hips sway with easy finesse, Jun matching you with a cheeky pout on his face. At some point, Mingyu had disappeared into the crowd to collect his bandmates, leaving you and Jun to continue letting the beat pump through your bodies.
Bodies slick with sweat stuck to yours, the alcohol-induced euphoria swimming through your system and rendering you careless, as all you thought about was feeling the music travel through your bones.
Through the crowd, your abnormally tall friend weaselled his way through, two drinks held haphazardly in his hand as he held them above head height, almost spilling the beverages on multiple unassuming party-goers' heads.
Behind him, two men materialised, both of whom you recognised from Instagram posts, music videos and whatever else your two best friends were involved in. The shorter of the two had a snapback perched backwards over his hair, and he sported a shy grin as he greeted you with a polite nod, ‘Vernon.’
Next to him, your gaze hovered, the second man making your breath hold tightly in your throat — He was gorgeous. The sort of gorgeous that is plastered on the front of fashion magazines. The sort that almost made drool slide down your chin.
Minghao, you can only presume, had a pale face, framed by a sleek black mullet, wisps of hair tickling his sleek cheekbones. The enticing dark chocolate eyes were sharp, and it felt as if Minghao’s gaze was swallowing you whole. Lazily, he dragged his eyes down your body, a small smirk on his plump pink lips as he consumed you with his look alone.
‘Minghao.’ He leaned forward with subtle ease, his strong hand ghosting your waist as his hot breath tickled your ear.
That was the night that changed your life.
Messy makeouts in the bathroom corridor, arms desperately pulling each other close, feeling all of your soft skin and lathering in the rosy scent of your perfume. Tugging his fluffy hair closer, dragging him lustfully to bed, arching your back involuntarily as his hot mouth met you.
You and Minghao were like two magnets, snapping together with force as soon as you met. There was no doubt in your mind that he was your person from the moment you set your eyes on him. And he — he was smitten, absolutely enamoured by you; he practically fell to his knees when you stepped out of your front door for the first date.
Now, six years later, you were each other’s forevers. The gorgeous engagement band on your finger confirms that. Minghao hunted far and wide for the ring that felt authentically you and him, searching across countries, visiting jewellery stores for hours at a time, researching different materials and styles.
An unexpected hunt on a work trip to Beijing made him stumble across a delicate twist of silver that was bent into two smooth spirals, a discrete diamond framed by the curving silver work. It was so perfect that Minghao didn’t hesitate — he signed the papers and strolled out of the store with a bashful grin on his face.
Then, on that starry evening when he got down on one knee, you felt your heart explode in your chest. Adoration surging through your body as you looked at your boyfriend’s sincere smile, his warm eyes glazed with anticipation as he bared his heart to you in an engagement box.
As the streetlights strobed softly through the private car's window, your ring glistened against your knee. A symbol of unrequited love that decorated your body every single day.
The vehicle was a buzz of your best friends, Jun squished in the middle, whilst Mingyu took up way too much space next to him, talking animatedly with Alice in the front seat. Both men were a concoction of shirts and cologne, sunglasses perched in their hair. It had been a long time since you’d been to a club, life moving in a gentle motion away from partying, so you were beyond excited to be indulging in one night of drunken fun with your best friends and fiancé.
Minghao was already at the bar the company had hired out, without a doubt networking, talking to devoted fans and bantering with his sub-unit counterpart.
You could already imagine his lean body, glistening in the low lighting, his shoulder-length strawberry blonde hair tickling his cheeks under a nonchalantly placed cap. Ring finger decorated with a shining silver band as he DJ’d. God, the vision practically made your panties wet.
‘What are you daydreaming about?’ Jun nudged at your side, all heads turning to yours as you rapidly snapped out of your drool-inducing vision of your fiancé.
‘Nothing,’ You reply, perhaps a bit too fast, the flustered expression on your features refusing to be wiped off. Trying to faux calm, you absentmindedly brush invisible dust off your dress.
‘You’re disgusting.’ Jun replies with a distinct scrunch to the nose.
‘What?’ You reply, with widened eyes and a sarcastic look of shock. Jun shakes his head at you, the car slowing as it swerves down a side street in Tokyo, vivid neon lights glowing above your heads.
Crowds of people hover by a bar and you can only presume that’s your destination. There was an atmosphere of anticipation, the beckoning call of music reverberating out onto the slim street, and the car halted, people ecstatically staring through the glass.
As soon as the door opened, you smiled and waved with the politeness you’d be forced to adopt the moment the tabloids caught wind of you. Teethy grins, small bows at fans, waves towards the crowd. However, as the audience swarming outside were struck with Jun and Mingyu's presence, you slipped through the entrance, staff easily directing you to the small stage where the main act was fooling around.
The bar was packed from wall to wall, bodies crammed in as fans excitedly screamed, hollered and shouted at their idols. The air was thick with smoke that clouded heavily in the corners and dampened the lights. A loud and bass-heavy hyperpop track shook the room as it bounced with a tinny crunch out of the speakers and flowed through the atmosphere.
This environment felt like travelling back in time, the thumping of dance music and the scent of strong alcohol dripping nostalgia through you. The hum of bodies pressed into the space brought you back to those long and late nights of the past, dancing sweatily with strangers, not having a care in the world. As you rolled your shoulders, the muscles loosening instinctively, you felt the weight of adulthood dissolve as the atmosphere swallowed you.
The staff member broke the crowd, guiding you through the barricade with a polite nod. The blonde locks wisping in the busy air caught your attention — your fiancé, looking devastatingly gorgeous, was perched in front of a set of decks, headphones slung around his neck as his stare zeroed in on the buttons. Minghao’s hair was hanging carelessly along his shoulders, a slouching cap resting on his head, a dark pair of sunglasses further shielding him from the hundreds of phone flashes shining towards him. As he bobbed his head along to the beat with effortless indifference, you decided his nonchalance was perhaps the most attractive thing on the planet.
There was a cloudy grey tank top hanging loosely off of his toned chest, his tattooed arms revealed to the world as they flexed when he held his hand up in motion. Minghao looked delectable, his body glistening in all the right ways as you watched with your mouth hanging. Even after six years, he still made you speechless daily.
As if your stare burned through him, his head turned straight towards you, his face softening in recognition as he quirked a sweet smile towards you. With a brief lean into Vernon, he stepped down and sauntered over to you, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek as he inspected you.
With discretion, he slid his arms around your waist, his smile converting into a smirk as he raked his eyes down your scantily clad body — your dress hugged all the right places, revealing a modest amount of cleavage and displaying your long legs for appreciation.
‘My love, you look beautiful.’ Minghao mutters in your ear, his hot breath fanning your soft skin, the surface puckering into an array of goosebumps. Your fiancé’s deep, seductive tone sent shivers down your spine, and you allowed your hands to rest on his shoulder, feeling the cotton beneath your fingertips.
‘Hao, you look-‘ There wasn’t even a word to describe how godly he looked. ‘Fuck, you look so good.’ You let your hand skim his bicep, squeezing the tough muscle lightly as he leaned forward, tilting your jaw to kiss you. His soft, plush lips, which you had the privilege of kissing daily, still sent electricity sparking across your body, the taste of mint gum and Coke infiltrating your mouth with ease. You both knew you could easily be here all night, wrapped up in one another, refusing to falter until you knew exactly how good his mouth tasted.
However, the hoards of cameras and fans watching closely ignited a consciousness that forced Minghao to apprehensively pull away, his lip caught between his teeth.
‘Proud of you, baby.’ You say wholeheartedly, sending him a sincere smile before pecking him lightly and running the pad of your thumb over his cheek.
‘I love you,’ He says back, his eyes practically oozing adoration. ‘Wouldn’t be here without you.’
To this, you smile with unrestrained happiness, letting your hands run lightly down his torso before giving his waist a squeeze and ushering him back to the decks. Throwing a quick wave at Vernon, who insisted on a sweaty congratulatory hug, you joined the rest of your friends who’d made their way to the viewing area.
The crowd was alive, chanting and buzzing at the two boys, who danced and waved happily, both radiating shy nonchalance whilst simultaneously bringing life to the room.
‘Put your drinks up!’ Your fiancé shouted, jumping excitedly with Vernon, his face radiating as joy rumbled through him — and you couldn’t help but appreciate how breathtaking he looked as euphoric glee zoomed through his skin.
Alongside you, Mingyu had arrived with a bottle of tequila, shot glasses lined up with precision. With a huge laugh, Mingyu poured one out, slinging it back before pouring another, then a line, linking his arm with yours to knock it back with the old trick you shared.
The sting of the spirit was dulled by the bittersweet flavour of nostalgia it arose on your tongue. It was a twisted sentiment to your early twenties, those party days, the ones that brought you and your friends together — the ones that brought your husband-to-be together, and it bloomed a subtle warmth in your chest.
Watching the man you cherished, so in his element, moving seamlessly to his own music, smiling wide enough to blind a nation, brought bliss to your heart and you inhaled deeply as if it could pause the moment.
Mingyu and Jun, dancing with drunken silliness next to you, expressions of happiness playing on their features. Roars boomed as Vernon and Minghao stood on the platform the decks sat on, dancing in sync to the songs they’d work tirelessly on.
And if you’re being honest, you don’t really party, you just sit at home, but tonight you were throwing it back to those long euphoric nights, letting your body sway freely and laughing wholeheartedly with your closest friends.
As the night stretched on, the bar darkened, the atmosphere still electric even as a different DJ took to the decks. Minghao had eventually shuffled his way over to you, sliding both hands around your waist as he nuzzled his face into your neck. The hair on your body stood up at your fiancé’s skinship, the thumping in your heart intensifying with his hot hands as they lightly massaged your skin.
‘Hey sweetheart,’ He said with a dipped voice, leaving a light kiss on the crook of your neck. You turn rapidly to face your hot, sweaty and frankly, very sexy fiancé, his cap pulled low as you join your lips with his; alcohol induced lust daring to poke through.
‘You were amazing up there,’ You breathed, a bashful smile appearing on Minghao’s face as you complimented him. ‘I’m so proud of you.’
There’s a glaze over his eyes that is somewhere between adoration and gratitude, the mixture making his chocolate eyes shine with unapologetic happiness. Instead of replying, he simply pulled you in once again, savouring the sweet taste of the plush lips you possessed.
The whirlwind of friends and colleagues then sweeps him away, people approaching with waves of congratulatory exclamations. You leave him with a tender kiss on the cheek, a reminder of how proud you are, and then disappear off to Alice.
With drunken confidence, the two of you dance, shaking your hair, swaying your hips, letting big hearty laughs tumble out of you. As the songs beat on, Jun and Mingyu materialise at your sides, moving exactly how they did all those years ago — Jun producing the strangest moves he could conjure, making you almost wet yourself in fits of giggles.
As Mingyu twirls you effortlessly, your sweet-faced soon-to-be-husband arrives, sliding in close to you, his body moving like liquid against you. The sensation of his hard chest pressed against your back made tingles shoot down your spine, the familiar scent of his musky beechwood aftershave wafting over you.
‘Back already?’ You ask with a turned head, only his light curtains visible as he presses tickling kisses along your neck.
‘Forgot how attractive you are when you dance like this,’ He mumbles, nipping on a spot that elicits rather inappropriate sounds from you. The heat of the bar seemed to have settled on your skin as a heavy dew, your pulse racing at a quickened pace.
‘Hao,’ You exhale with heft, hoping the release would ease the growing heat between your legs. You lean your head into the crook of his shoulder behind you, his lips forced to disconnect with your neck as he grumbles quietly. ‘We’re in public.’
The shy and bashful Minghao that presented himself to the public was long gone — his shameless flirtation and risqué-nature penetrating through his persona. You knew this version of Minghao very well. It was the one shielded from his fans, one reserved specifically for you, the one that devoured you on a balcony the night of your engagement.
And his lusty gaze made the heat pooling between your legs feel more and more bothersome.
‘I can’t help myself,’ He says quietly, ‘you look too good, it’s driving me insane.’ His arms don’t falter from their secure place on your hips, tugging you impossibly closer. It felt like you were younger again, kissing carelessly in the club, letting the music take you both away as you indulged in one another.
‘Hao,’ A shaky breath leaves your lips, ‘We can’t exactly slip off, this is your party,’
With a sigh of frustration, he lands one more nip to the sweet spot on your neck, ‘We’re leaving as soon as it’s socially acceptable.’
It, in fact, was not socially acceptable to leave until three in the morning. In those hours, everyone had gotten impossibly drunker. Beside you, Mingyu, almost asleep, stood up, his speech slurred in that hilariously whiny way that was so reminiscent of dragging his tall frame down the dark Seoul streets.
Minghao had hovered around, often being pulled in every direction by various guests, his gaze hot on your figure as you continued to dance or mingle. You could feel eyes burn into your body when you bent over to pick up a spilt beverage, and he used it as a convenient excuse to practically run to your side — skilfully placing himself to conceal your exposed thighs.
Like a perfect scapegoat, Mingyu almost toppled over into both of you. The lanky man’s absent gaze was practically begging for bed, and who were you both to make him stay any longer?
‘We should take him back to the hotel.’ You say with a pout, bidding goodbye to Jun with a tight hug. Minghao had rapidly slipped off to also spout all variations of valedictions to the remaining guests.
Three slightly long, awkward hugs, around ten polite bows and countless ‘goodbyes’ later, you and Minghao had Mingyu slung over your shoulders, his body borderline slack between you as you both dragged him into the car.
As much as you could mentally thank Mingyu for always drinking himself into the perfect escape plan, you didn’t want to praise him for the impending spine problems his years of drunken slackness will inevitably cause you.
There were many ways you’d rather be leaving the bar. Through a back door, hands tangled in Minghao’s mullet, tugging when his lips hit that sensitive spot on your neck. Or in a private car, just the two of you, your hand eagerly stroking torturously slowly up his thigh, skimming his crotch with routine obliviousness.
But alas, Mingyu collapsed onto the seat with a thud, babbling incoherently as he lay his head on your lap. Minghao just tutted as he climbed into the passenger seat, turning to see you display a shrug, raising your hands in defeat.
Even through Mingyu's meaningless utterances, the sexual tension was rife — Minghao stayed glued to his phone, his hat low as his teeth nibbled on his lip in frustration. He was vying for a distraction, and his Instagram feed had never been so boring.
You, on the other hand, leaned on your wrist as you watched the busy, late-night traffic blur past the window. Neon lights and hordes of bodies meshed together in the dark night, the lowlight skimming your fiancées strong jaw, which was very obviously clenched, his plump lips glowing with each passing streetlight.
God, you were ready to devour him.
The minutes skidded by almost painfully, Tokyo dragging through your vision with snail-like slowness. Mingyu was fast asleep on your lap, muttering to himself drunkenly — If your head wasn’t spinning with visions of the gorgeous man in the front seat, you might find this heartwarming and so reminiscent of times passed. Mingyu follows his usual routine, getting too drunk and having to be hauled home by you or whichever oblivious friend was roped in to take half of his weight. Stumbling into the hotel elevator with someone hot on his trail, apologising profusely to whichever member of the public he may have embarrassed himself in front of. Then, collapsing onto the closest comfiest surface — the hotel bed, and passing out without a word.
It made you giggle at how his habits had never changed and how yours remained, too. Popping two painkillers onto his nightstand, filling up a cup with water. All the usual things that came as second nature. Minghao watched you closely with adoration. There wasn’t a day that he didn’t fall deeper in love with you, and today he really felt it. Even through the chaos, the stress, the pressure, your presence was ever-grounding; even if it made his brain scatter when he saw you.
Your fiancée lingered close behind you as you clicked the door shut slowly, the dim hallway abandoned at this heinous time. The warm glow made your body shine, the expanse of your neck exposed when you swept your hair to the side, your long legs practically glistening for Minghao to ogle. He traced the curve of your waist in your tight dress, biting his lip at the swell of your ass as you twisted to look at him.
‘Let me get out of the door first,’ You joke, recognising the lust dripping off of his gaze. Without hesitation, his tongue slipped out of his mouth, licking his lips as if you were his favourite meal.
You were.
The tether within Minghao had snapped, finally alone after hours of pent-up frustration, and he had you pushed up against the wall with lightning-quick agility. One strong arm wrapped tightly around your waist to pull his hips flush against yours, the other cradling your face with softness, the rough pad of his thumb savouring the feeling of your skin below it.
Without hesitation, he joined his lips to yours with desperation, his body aching to taste the alcohol on you — and now he could taste it, he felt utterly intoxicated. The plush of your lips was so familiar, but it never failed to make him feel like every hair on his body was standing on end.
‘Hao,’ You breathed out in a quiet whine, your hands lacing through Minghao’s soft hair with an instinctive tug as he let his lips begin their assault on your neck. He knew exactly how to make you fawn, his teeth grazing your sensitive spots as he left discrete marks along your exposed shoulder.
To be honest, he didn’t care that people were sleeping behind plywood walls; you were too delectable to treat anyone else with regard. A sick part of him wanted them to hear how good he made you feel, he wanted them to know that his fiancée would only moan like this for him for the rest of her life.
Your nails clawed harshly at his biceps as the feeling of his lips made heat pool pathetically between your legs, his lusted-over gaze burning through you when he pulled back to examine his art.
This was Minghao’s own personal Picasso. The sight of you, face flushed and screwn in an expression of blissful pleasure, a thin sheen of sweat coating your skin as your head leaned on the dark wall behind you, the expanse of your neck exposed and actively developing little bruises. The dress, which was, quite frankly, a method of torture designed specifically to make Minghao suffer, was bunching up and revealing your hot skin to his eyes.
‘Oh baby,’ Minghao sighs, letting his arms pull your body into his. You took advantage of his moment of weakness and began to pepper kisses up the column of his throat, trailing along his jaw and nibbling his ear gently, smirking as the skin under your fingertips rose in goosebumps. Sometimes you forgot how easily you affected him, the hotness of your breath eliciting his body to react rapidly, his eyes fluttering shut tightly as he groaned loudly and unapologetically.
The hallway had dissolved into a desire-driven blur around you both, the almost pornographic moans tumbling out of your fiancées mouth floating you away on a cloud of pure sexual need.
‘Baby, I need you.’ He manages to gasp out, your hand now feeling his toned stomach with daringly slow accuracy whilst your mouth continues to run circles around his brain.
‘Can’t have me in a corridor, Hao.’ You state between sloppy kisses, not parting from his skin for longer than a few seconds.
He turned his head and emitted a sound resembling a hiss as your mouth was forced to leave his body, ‘I’ll have you right here, sweetheart, don’t test me.’
The tone was icy, the dominance in his voice almost making your knees give way. His hand was resting with a strong presence on the back of your neck, his drooped eyelids penetrating you with so much intensity it was overwhelming.
Not willing to try your luck with Minghao — Knowing he’d bunch your dress up and tear your underwear off for anyone to see, you take his wrist in your hand, dragging him to the elevator. There’s a cocky smirk that’s landed permanently on his features, his eyes watching the way your ass giggled as you jogged lightly to the end of the hallway, pulling him along.
The doors slid shut, but before they could ring out a quiet ding! he has you pinned against the mirrored wall, his body heavy against your back.
It’s embarrassing the way you arch into him, your breath heavy as it already begins to cloud the mirror in small hues. Behind you, he has one of your arms secured to your back, intertwining his fingers with yours in an intimate gesture. Yet, his eyes are darkened as they scan your face in the mirror, the need rife in your hooded gaze as you meet his hungry look.
Your entire body is squashed against the mirror, making your cleavage bulge out of your skimpy dress, and Minghao can’t help but stare at it as he reattaches his mouth to your neck eagerly. The hardness of his throbbing cock is tough against your ass, and you gasp sharply when he smoothly thrusts himself against you.
‘Look at you,’ He coos with fake sympathy dripping off every word, his mouth ruthlessly working at your exposed skin. ‘Such a greedy girl, rubbing yourself against me in public.’
Your fiancées taunts make you impossibly wetter, and you attempt to stifle a moan that was escaping you. Minghao pauses sharply, squinting at your already fucked out reflection. ‘It’s too late to be quiet now, baby, you’ve already let the whole floor know how good my lips make you feel.’
It’s embarrassing. Almost humiliating, how he has you completely at his mercy before you’ve even swiped your room key — in the elevator where anyone could see you, where any innocent passerby could watch as your fiancée ruts his stiff cock into you, when any of his members could walk in to your face flushed and already fucked out before Minghao has even touched you.
As the elevator begins to halt, he releases his grip on you, taking your hand sweetly and pulling you into his side. It’s mind-boggling how versatile Minghao is, the doors sliding open with torturous pace as a fellow hotel guest nods politely to your fiancée, entering the space that held the ghost of said man, practically dry-humping you against the wall.
Minghao’s grip around you was tight, his hand absentmindedly tugging your dress to cover your exposed thighs as he smiled awkwardly and bowed to the stranger, keeping your head tucked safely into the crook of his neck.
You knew this was killing Minghao. Even the redness on your face did not compare to the restraint he was exercising with each passing moment.
The elevator slowed once again, and Minghao couldn’t pull you out of there faster, his cock painfully hard in his trousers; he was already facing your shared room by the time the door to the elevator slid closed.
Beep! The hotel door clicks open, and everything becomes a whirlwind. Minghao has you pressed against it with wicked ease, pulling your lips to meet his in a sloppy, needy kiss that radiates heat from him. Your hands are sliding beneath his shirt, letting your nails scratch along the toned muscles as his hand smooths over your ass, grabbing at it harshly as he attempts to pull you closer.
Minghao’s lips are working on the sweet spot below your collarbone, tasting the skin with unfaltering intensity. You let your hands roam, tangling them in his hair, scratching at his back, squeezing at his waist — you feel every inch of him like you’re learning where everything is.
With a rough tug, your dress is pooled around your waist, your braless chest bouncing out with the release of the cloth binding it, and Minghao lets out a long groan, his eyes closing as he lets his head slack. He is devilishly handsome, his jaw defined in the low light as it flexes at the sight of you.
‘Sweetheart,’ He speaks whilst he inspects every inch of you closely, bringing his hot mouth to your chest once again, his tongue drawing patterns against your skin as he brings one of his hands to toy with your nipple, his long fingers working automatically to pinch and caress you.
Loud throaty moans tumble out of you as he fails to neglect your other nipple, letting his mouth trail hot kisses around it before sucking with perfected ease. If Minghao’s arm wasn’t securely around you, the feeling would’ve made you collapse to the floor — he knew your body like the back of his hand, nipping and sucking on every single sensitive spot, touching every place that set your body on fire. Except where you needed him most.
‘Hao,’ You moan, and he just grunts against you, not faltering for a second from his heavy assault on your chest, the sight of him devouring you almost enough to have you cumming. ‘Baby, I need-‘
He pulls off of your nipple with a dirty pop, his pent-up gaze watching as the pleasure drops off your face with the lack of contact. It was filthy, the arousal that pumped through him when he watched you become absolutely desperate for him.
‘Need what baby?’ He questions, his movements so slow that they almost cease, making your eyebrows furrow and your lip jut out in a pout. Pathetically, you let your slender hand reach for the waistband of his trousers, but he’s like a hawk, pinning both of your wrists above your head.
It’s humiliating how turned on you are — completely under his control willingly. His frame is fully clothed, whilst yours is a mess, dress in a rushed bunch around your waist, panties dripping.
‘What do you need?’ He questions, gaze burning into you as he drags his eyes down your curves. ‘Use your words, baby.’
‘Need you,’ You whine, wiggling to attempt to reach for his waistband again, but his grip is steady, keeping you absolutely merciless.
‘Need what part of me?’ He blinks, big innocent eyes staring at yours like he wasn’t already ruining you without even a touch.
Your face is utterly flushed as embarrassment and arousal mix into a vicious vision of want, the outline of his hard cock practically pounces at you. Minghao uses this moment to let one of his big hands ghost over your panties, his touch so light that you buck your hips instantly, desperate for him to give your clit any stimulation.
A taunting laugh escapes his lips before his ruthless mouth is back on your neck, nipping and sucking as your head falls back in pleasure. The sudden attention forces a moan to escape you, and he stops, the brief contact ripped away so savagely that your brain is fuzzy with frustration.
‘I asked you a question, sweetheart.’ He repeats, letting your restrained hands fall as he tugs you lightly towards the bed, pausing as you near it. Without a word, he slips your bundled dress off of your frame carefully, discarding it as you kiss him, pulling his neck to yours before he even has a chance to appreciate your almost naked body.
‘Need your cock baby,’ You mumble against his lips, and he groans at your needy answer, his pants feeling uncomfortably tight around him, and you let your nails scrape his lower abdomen in that way that has his body in shivers.
Minghao is so enticed by you, the way your lips mingle with his effortlessly, the ways in which you know his body, the ways that can almost make him cum in his pants with just a feather-light touch.
You’ve slyly twisted, pushing him to sit on the edge of the bed, your lips not parting as you masterfully manoeuvre yourself between his solid thighs.
Minghao thinks this might be a mirage. A vision of ecstasy in a moment of desperation. You, his beautiful fiancée, on your knees in front of him, your lips swollen from his assault on them, tiny marks along your neck from his greediness to mark you. There’s a distinct thirst in your eyes as your hands fumble with his belt, and Minghao thinks it might be the most attractive thing he’s ever seen.
Like an expert, his belt is unbuckled, and his trousers are tugged down, your light touch carrying the weight of hours of teasing. As you let his cock spring free, he hisses, the scene in front of him so dirty he could cum right now.
Your fiancé's biceps are flexed as he holds himself up, leaning back and watching you with squinted eyes. His cock is so pretty, you sometimes forget, and it shocks you all over again – It’s pale and long, not too girthy but beautifully slender. The sight of it alone makes your pussy clench around nothing, the memories of it kissing your cervix infiltrating your mind.
Drool pools at the corner of your lips, and without further ado, you stroke your fingertips lightly along his cock, letting your thumb drag over the tip, a string of tangled grunts tumbling out of him as you spread the leaking pre-cum down his shaft.
After a few eager strokes, you bring your mouth to him, kitten-licking him with precision, his teeth gritted as he lets out a hiss, your warm mouth sending spikes of pleasure up his body. His cock was more than a mouthful, the salty pre-cum lathering your tongue as you gradually make your way down him, gagging as your nose grazes his stomach.
Your engagement band glints as you grip his thigh, beginning to piston your head, throaty moans slipping out of his mouth as you take him so well.
‘Fuck baby,’ He groans, and an involuntary sound of pleasure leaves you, your nipples perked in arousal as you speed up. Minghao runs his fingers through your soft hair delicately, the sensation prickling your skin as he gathers your locks and guides your motions with desperation. ‘You look so pretty.’
It was so filthy, the squelch of your mouth working against him and his heavy, breathy moans at free flow as the feeling of your tongue around him takes over. Minghao is seeing stars, the sight of you alone pushing him closer, yet alone the stimulation on his cock.
‘Baby, baby.’ He pants, his breathing climbing rapidly as his release nears, and he pulls your head away from him carefully, refusing to come from just your mouth – he needed to be inside you, watching your eyes roll back as he bottoms out. You pout, looking up at him with red cheeks, your lips glistening with his pre-cum and your spit. ‘I want to come inside you.’
His words make you ache, your pussy practically begging for something – anything at all.
Minghao lifts your jaw up to his, rejoining your lips. The salty taste of himself on you infiltrates his mouth as he pulls you onto his lap, his strong arms reaching to squeeze at the expanse of your ass cheeks as his cock is trapped between you both, nudging at your clit in selfish intervals.
‘Take this off.’ You whisper, hands already pulling at his shirt, and he whips it off, sparing only a second before his tongue is intertwined with yours again, your fingertips feeling his smooth skin and tracing his abs.
You push his body down, crawling over him to grind your clothed entrance against his hard cock. Pretty moans falling out of you as your clit gets the stimulation it was craving, forcing your eyes to squeeze shut as your body is submerged in pleasure. Your fiancée is breathless below you, your hair dangling down into his face as your expression presents as angelic, all-consumed by pleasure. Minghao always thought you were the most beautiful woman on earth, but god, you glowed in a different way like this.
Breathing shallowly, you continued dragging yourself against his hardness, your eyes locking with Minghaos as he tilts his head back into the mattress, his gaze lusty yet determined. Those strong arms working their way down to your wetness as you pause your movements, desperate for your fiancée to touch you.
‘Oh my poor baby, you’re soaked,’ He said, using his middle finger to trace circles over you, the panties ruined and your thighs almost dripping. You couldn't even muster a response, his light teasing pressing all of the right spots, and you drop your head to the crook of his neck as he continues his lazy circles. ‘Do you want me to stop?’
You knew it was a baited question. Minghao wanted to see you squirm.
‘No, please.’ You beg, your mouth hot against his sensitive neck as you speak into it, biting at the skin gently.
‘Look at me.’ He says sternly. Pressing one finger into your dripping hole, pushing your panties inside you. It was ludicrous and practically a sin to be so hopelessly at his expense, but you couldn't think past how good it felt.
‘Look at me.’ He repeats with a grit in his teeth, halting his movements to get your full attention. With a rapid snap of the neck up, your faces are inches apart, his hot breath mingling with yours as he scans your gorgeous face, your cheeks reddened, your lips jutted.
You were so beautiful.
‘Good girl.’ Before you can even moan, his mouth is back on yours hungrily, his hands gripping your waist tightly as he guides your soaked clit to rub against his painfully hard cock. ‘Stay just like this, baby.’ Then, in a subtle movement, he slides out from underneath you and discards the rest of his clothing, kneeling behind you.
The heat of his body radiated as he stroked himself whilst inspecting you, wetness dripping down your spread legs, pussy gleaming with arousal. It was one of his favourite sights, and he can’t help himself as he runs his hands up and down your plush thighs, squeezing your ass and letting the cool of his metal engagement band send shivers up your spine.
‘Hao, please.’ With desperation, you push your hips backwards, his cock brushing you, and you let out a hum of satisfaction.
Wordlessly, Minghao begins to guide his cock into your dripping hole, the sensation of you so tight and warm around him making a heavy groan fall from his throat. Similarly, tears begin to cloud your vision as sweet relief washes over you, the feeling of him dragging against your walls combined with his throaty sounds making you dig your nails into the soft white covers.
Slowly, he bullies his way into you, his member hitting every single spot that has you clawing desperately at anything you can. As he bottoms out with a hiss, a loud moan leaves your lips, the overwhelming feeling of his tip mingling with your cervix, making you clench around him.
It felt insane how well his body slotted into yours. Your pussy was moulded to fit his cock, your walls hugging it in every single place. There was nothing that could compare to the feeling of being conjoined with one another, ecstasy blasting through you both as you thrive in the overwhelming feeling of one another.
Unable to restrain himself, Minghao begins to fuck into you with a quickened pace, the room becoming a soundtrack of filthy sounds; his hips slapping your thighs, the squelch of your soaked hole, the mixture of grunts and moans the two of you emit.
Minghao’s eyes stare as your skin jiggles with each thrust, his fingers gripping your hips so tight that bruises will blossom beneath them tomorrow. His breathing is heavy as he relishes the euphoric feeling of you bent over, receiving him so willingly and squeezing him impossibly tighter.
The wicked thrusting has you seeing stars, the sensations overwhelming, and you start hurtling towards your release, moans running at free flow out of you as your fiancée only quickens his pace.
‘H-Hao,’ You moan, gripping the mattress below you as if it could receive some of the immense pleasure rippling through you.
‘Yes, baby?’ He pants out, letting one hand rub up your side in a soothing manner, his hips and arms doing completely contrasting things to your body.
‘I’m close.’ You sputter out, lathered in his deep strokes that were practically splitting you in half.
‘Mhm,’ He hums, only speeding up impossibly faster as he wraps a strong arm around your waist to pull you into him, not letting his cock disconnect from the comfort of your slick.
Your head is slack on Minghao’s shoulder as he holds your back tightly to his chest, letting his hand ghost over your neck. He nips at your ear as he continues to piston into you ruthlessly, your release within an arm's reach.
‘You’re doing so well, baby,’ Minghao whispers in your ear, tightening his grip on your neck as he chases your high. ‘Such a good girl, my good girl.’
That was all it took before you were tightening around him, high-pitched moans tumbling out of you. The coil within you snaps, sending your vision white, heat flushing out of you as you squeeze your eyes shut tightly.
Minghao keeps fucking you ruthlessly, holding the weight of your body as he chases his own release, small whines escaping your mouth as he overstimulates you. The grip of his hands gets tighter and tighter as he grunts in your ear, muttering incoherently as all he thinks about is how good you feel.
‘Fuck ____.’ He gasps, his breath taken from him as he spurts inside you, his warm milky release coating your insides, his thrusts becoming sloppy as he slows.
The room is swamped in the sound of heavy breathing, Minghao pulling out and helping you lie down gently, kissing your shoulders, all the way down your spine and then returning to kiss the crown of your head.
‘You’re so beautiful.’ He speaks with delicate sincerity, your sleepy gaze watching his naked figure disappear off to the bathroom.
‘I love you.’ You mumble, grinning shyly and nuzzling your face into the pillow. Your fiancée reappears with a wet towel, wiping you cautiously as he appreciates your gorgeous figure.
‘I love you more, my love.’ He replies, Your vision became as your body relaxed into the plush mattress. With a light but solid grip, you tug him onto the bed, his musky scent washing over you once again, and you sigh happily.
‘Just cuddle me, baby.’ You murmur, tiredness taking over you as he pulls you into his chest, placing the covers over the two of you. Peppering kisses on your head, he watches you gently doze off, and his heart feels like it could burst with how much he adores you.
Even submerged in sleep, your hand finds his, engagement rings clicking quietly together, and Minghao closes his eyes in contentment, letting sleep lull him away with you.
you've been best friends with nba star jeon jungkook since he was a skinny point guard for your high school team in the middle of nowhere. over ten years later, you remain the one calm constant amidst his hectic life of chasing greatness on the court. you've seen jungkook through all - his struggles, his successes, and especially his god-awful love life. when his recent engagement goes awry, he decides he's had enough following heartbreak after heartbreak. meanwhile, you've grown numb to the mere idea of love in favour of building your career. pent up frustrations come to a head and caution is thrown to the wind, as you and jungkook promise it's just one time.
a drunken night between two friends and two lines on a pregnancy test later, your lives change. unsurprisingly, jungkook promises to stick by you no matter what. marrying your best friend shouldn't be a bad idea, especially when he's the father of your child. when the two of you continue to cross unexplored territory, you don't know if you have the guts to admit that you want more.
ᯓ★ˎˊ˗ pairing: famous athlete!jungkook x reader
ᯓ★ˎˊ˗ content/warnings: childhood friends to lovers, friends with benefits, unplanned pregnancy, whirlwind (platonic) engagement (of convenience), power dynamics (jk is rich and reader isn't lol), alcohol and recreational drug use, both characters have abandonment issues whoops, also they're in heavy denial, smut (unprotected sex obviously, oral sex (f. receving) soft dom jk, fingering, breast play, dirty talk, big dick jk, consensual drunk sex, multiple orgasms), fluff, light angst, no use of y/n
ᯓ★ˎˊ˗ notes: so excited to finally drop this i kinda love that jk is mostly the opposite of what a basketball player is stereotypically (i.e. liars and cheaters and weirdos trust me i would know) like he's just so sweet and earnest lol anyways i chose new york for the setting and for the fictional nba team solely because i guess i had to name a city for them to be based in (i usually don't like outright naming settings) and i'm not american but nyc is the closest thing to the city where i'm from lmao anyways this will be a three parter!! hope you guys enjoy and i love any and all feedback and comments i'm just happy to be here and write lol
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JUNE
june is often the only guaranteed time of the year when you could see your best friend, at least recently. his team consistently made deep playoff runs that extended his nba season farther than the average player and then usually vacationed somewhere tropical right before training camp with whatever pretty model he’s dating at the time. before that, though, jungkook held all of your seasons and time and had done so for the better part of over ten years.
the two of you went from eating lunch by yourselves on the bleachers of your high school football field to sleeping at each other's college dorms and finally, landing jobs in the same city as adults. as most friendships post grad do, your friendship with jungkook sometimes morphs into sparse meetups and birthdays only. it doesn’t help that he was out of the state fifty percent of the week. of course, being his best friend, you both try to put in the effort - thriving in text conversations - but it’s natural that your schedules constantly conflicted. that is precisely why you loved the month of june, when basketball is on a break.
"are you going to bali with her this time? or, is it gonna be somewhere in the pacific?"
jungkook found this nasty dive bar the year that he got drafted to new york - the kind of bar where smoke from the nineties still stuck on the walls. you were both brand new to the city, as you just coincidentally transferred to nyu, and this place was tucked in between other equally gross drinking holes. back in the day, this bar happened to be the one of the only ones that took jungkook’s fake drivers' license and since then, has become your go-to spot.
the man in question winces at your inquiry and instead of answering, calls for the bartender. "hey, frank. can we get two tequila shots over here?"
granted, back then, no one recognized jungkook. when the two of you meet up today, he wears a fairly ordinary outfit of a form-fitting white t-shirt and jeans. a baseball cap nestles the top of his head and he has black tom ford sunglasses to hide his face - you had quipped that the designer shades in the middle of this disgusting bar gave him away immediately. the two of you remain unbothered since sitting down at the end of the bar, but you could feel the double takes and stares every once in a while.
frank, who has been bartending at the bar since you and jungkook first became regulars, nods and grabs a bottle of the brand he already knows that the two of you prefer. every time you come around, he also makes sure that no one even thinks of coming over and intruding, scaring anyone off with a glare before they can even ask jungkook for a picture.
"straight to the tequila?" your eyebrows shoot up. you can tell that jungkook has something to say and truth be told, you may already know what it is. you read him like the back of your hand at this point.
frank slides over two shot glasses filled to the brim with the amber liquid. the two of you thank him and throw the liquor back in one go. when you look back at jungkook, he still remains silent at your question. he just kinda shrugs at you, as he sucks on his lime. some juice drips down his chin and you throw a napkin his way with an eye roll.
a grin spreads on his lips and he mutters a thank you. you still stare at him, waiting.
jungkook clears his throat a little once the initial burn passed. "you see," he says. "mariana and i broke up. two weeks ago, actually."
"jeon jungkook!" you gasped, hand covering your mouth.
you saw it coming, but you still can’t believe it.
truthfully, you’re taken aback at the sudden news, but you’re also not totally surprised. jungkook is a complete lover boy and always has been, unlike some of the dirtbags on his team that had a woman or two for in every city they played in. when he proposed to the girl he'd been seeing for just a little over a year, you were a bit skeptical. mariana seemed like a sweet girl, but certainly enjoyed a lavish lifestyle - at least according to her instagram. you couldn't judge too hard, as you’d only met her a few times, since she lived all the way in los angeles and he would often be the one coming to see her. you just didn't want jungkook to get hurt, but you couldn’t always trust his judgement. you’ve been patting his back and telling him "you’ll get em next time” for years when girls broke his heart time and time again.
evidently, nothing has changed since high school.
he sighs, taking a sip of his water. "it wasn't gonna work out. she and i were just. . .too different." his words were careful, like he was tasting each one on by one.
"koo, you can be honest with me," you respond slowly. "this isn't a press conference."
it’s like he tastes the bitterness of the words on his tongue before he speaks, with the way his facial expression contours.
“well. . .”
you look at him, expectantly.
"she was a gold digger," jungkook lamely admits. "i overheard her on the phone with her friend talking about me and, well, it became this huge thing. then, she wouldn't sign the prenup."
you rub his arm comfortingly. "i'm so sorry, jungook."
even trying to imagine the details hurt. you don’t wanna know the full length because it would just make you upset. you also knew that the last thing jungkook wanted is someone to feel sorry for him.
"this shit always happens to me," he mutters and waves frank over for another drink.
all your life, you've watched girls take advantage of jungkook. you just hoped mariana was the last one. still, this has been happening since the girl who tried baby trapping him right before freshman year. there was even the string of influencers before mariana that just wanted either his clout or his money.
you also order a drink, as you never let your best friend drink alone.
"why didn't you tell me sooner?" you ask.
jungkook runs a hand through his hair. "i was only sure it was over last night." of course he fought for the relationship. he always does. "when she, uh, gave me the ring back."
a dull clank and the ridiculously huge rock drops to the counter in front of you unceremoniously. it’s probably the biggest diamond you'd ever seen in real life. you remember the first time you saw it on jungkook’s then-fiancee's hand and wondered if it was heavy enough to break mariana’s annoying habit of flipping her hair after every sentence.
"fuck her, you deserve better."
and you mean every damn word. you always do. jungkook is a genuinely kind and caring person. he’s loyal, attentive, and frankly, was rich and handsome. you weren't stupid or blind, just uninterested.
"you also deserve better," jungkook grunts, waving over a second round of shots. you don’t try to intervene - you knew he was having a rough night and certainly needed it.
still, you don’t the hide the grimace forming on your face. "gee, thanks."
“what?”
you snort. “this was about you. why the fuck do i have to catch a stray?”
this at least makes jungkook chuckle a little and you’re fine with that, even if it’s at your expense.
"no, seriously. i know i'm making it all about me right now, but i'm sorry you got stood up."
you made a noise of protest, half burying your face in your hand. you were hoping to avoid even talking about it. it’s already more than a little embarrassing to show up to the hangout with what was supposed to be the ‘seduce-the-date’ outfit and you didn’t miss jungkook’s raised eyebrows when he noticed the low cut of your shirt and the way your skirt barely hid your ass.
when jungkook asked you to grab a drink with him over text yesterday, you indicated that it would have to be later in the night because you had a date and deflected the teasing by clarifying that it was a random tinder match. nothing serious - jungkook knows you don’t do that stuff.
of course, when your date never came and you asked jungkook to meet up several hours early, he figured it out instantly.
you shake your head. "it's fine. i'm happy to even make it onto jeon jungkook’s crazy schedule," you reply wryly. "or, i guess i'll be seeing you more if you won't be on your usual romantic beach side getaway this summer."
jungkook flips you off, but can't hide another laugh escaping his lips. you always lighten the mood like that and he never fails to appreciate it after all these years. for whatever reason, he still thinks you’re the funniest person alive.
"see? this is why i keep you around," he teases, dodging a halfhearted smack that you send his way.
in a way, you knew it was true. "everyone else would pity you. you need someone to tell you that it's time to grow some balls," you fire back. "seriously, koo. fuck her. you never needed her."
you don’t dare give jungkook some sort of baby treatment. he’s a grown ass man and he knows that. you never pull punches with him, not back in high school when he didn't get scouted by his first pick school or even two years ago, when you told him off for not calling his mom enough. it’s anything from the little things to the bigger problems, but you are always there to just be real with him in a way no one else would.
jungkook sighs again and lifts his next shot glass to his lips. "i know," he says dumbly. "just thought it'd be different this time. got down on a knee and everything."
he really did care, though. the two of them hadn't been engaged long and jungkook’s last year had been far too busy to host the wedding, but he'd been so eager to talk about it whenever you were able to catch him for a chat. he wanted to have it in the hometown that you both grew up in and bounced off venue ideas as recently as a month ago.
"the right woman will come at the right time," you assure and mirror his movements, knocking back your second shot of tequila. this one goes down smoother than the first and you’re glad it does because you know this wouldn't be the last of the night, with the way jungkook is pacing himself.
it's been a long week for jungkook, you can tell. getting eliminated in the league eastern conference finals last month is one thing, but to have his engagement fall apart not long after is the cherry on top. you’re more than happy to listen to him drone about his sorrows.
“i think i’m over it. for real, this time.”
you pause your movements, lime in your mouth when you do so and it prevents you from blurting anything inappropriate aloud. you try to be supportive with jungkook when it comes to his love life, but he tends to be a little dramatic.
“how so?” you decide to bite, setting the wedge back into your now empty shot glass.
jungkook sighs. “i’m done. done with dating and love.”
this makes you chuckle and you can’t help it. of course, you think jungkook is joking, but you look up and catch the solemn look in his eye.
“you just need a break from it,” you say. “just take a step back and enjoy your life for what it’s worth. you have your dream job and more money than you’ll ever need - lots to be distracted by.”
he says your name. “i’m serious. i think i’m done,” jungkook repeats.
“i'm sure.”
“well, you definitely don’t have a hard time with it. you don’t date.”
you make an unconvinced noise. it’s different for you. you’re just two years out of school, having spent a lifetime working towards your current job as a chiropractor. it’s not like you’ve had the time to even consider anything serious with anyone since midway through your undergraduate degree. you don’t even know if you wanted to do the whole get married and have kids thing. you wanted to run your own clinic, that’s what you know.
“because i have a boring life with boring goals that don’t have room for getting to know a man,” you finally reply, arms folded across your chest.
jungkook rolls his eyes. “doesn’t matter. you still make it work, why can’t i?”
“we’re different people,” you say.
a third round of shots slides your way from frank, along with your cocktails. you didn’t even realize how fast the two of you have been drinking for your cocktails to only come now. jungkook grabs his long island iced tea and you take the first sip of your mango daiquiri.
sugary. strong. tastes like a hangover.
not like it matters. you don’t get opportunities to go out and drink like this often - plus, jungkook obviously needed it. tomorrow is saturday and you get to stay home all day long, beating the heat wave projected to hit new york city tomorrow. it’s one of the reasons why he suggested enjoying tonight as much as possible, when the next day looks to be one where no one should even bother stepping outside.
june always guaranteed those two things: jungkook and the relentless sun.
in a way, it feels like you’ve been trailing after jungkook your entire life. the two of you met in chemistry class in high school and became lab partners. since then, you haven’t left each other’s sides. you both even ended up at duke university after graduating, where jungkook led the basketball team to a national title as a freshman. he became a guaranteed top three pick in the nba draft and went to the new york titans. somehow, someway, you also ended up in new york city after transferring to your dream school - nyu.
it’s an evergreen orbit that you and jungkook exist in, circling in the same atmosphere according to destiny. there should have been many instances where the two of you get torn apart, but have yet to pull away from each other. jungkook hasn’t been traded since joining the titans. you found a job in new york after you passed your chiropractor board exams.
you’ve never considered the idea that jungkook may be trailing after you.
he’s never let go of you. you’re the last person that knew him from the before, even before he knew he wanted to play basketball for the rest of his life. he hasn’t let go and doesn’t know if he can - both figuratively and in this particular moment, physically.
jungkook wakes up to the warm glow of sunlight through his balcony door. it’s not often he doesn’t wake up to a blaring alarm. his life is a comfortable fixed schedule of things that requires him to be up at early hours. gym, practice, games, meetings, interviews, and flights.
it’s also not often that he wakes up with a throbbing headache.
he shifts to rub his temples until he realizes that there’s something on top of him.
jungkook recognizes your scent immediately. vanilla, jasmine and something sharp. it pierces his mind so suddenly that all the memories of last night hit his consciousness immediately.
your legs tightly wrapped around his waist. the taste of you on his tongue. the melodic noises from your lips, filling his room until jungkook couldn’t hear anything else.
he even remembers the promise shared between the two of you, before lines were crossed. the only thing he doesn’t recognize is the ache in his chest, unsure of what it is.
now, he doesn’t need to open his eyes to know that it’s your warm body attached to his - so close that it’s impossible to tell where you begin and he ends.
while he’s not shocked, jungkook doesn’t move either. he’s frozen in place and doesn’t dare open his eyes because when he does, that makes everything real. too real.
questions can come later. jungkook instead buries his face into your hair and secures his grip. you don’t pull away in your sleep, only stirring slightly. the weight of your body calmly melts into his, like it’s normal.
because for a minute, he just wants to exist in the orbit with you.
frank doesn’t say anything when the two of you bid him goodbye and he notices jungkook's hand on your hip. it’s subtle, but the man has watched you both for years and has never seen such a thing. his lips curve into an easy smile as jungkook leads you out the door of the bar, like this is something that he’s been waiting on since the two of you first walked into his bar.
there’s a buzz in the air throughout the short uber ride back to jungkook’s condo. the chatter of conversation fills the air, as you and jungkook debate about video games and existentialism. separately, of course. you’re both drunk enough, but jungkook has invited you back to his for even more drinks and you don’t say no.
between a fit of laughter over jungkook’s animated rant on the nintendo switch, you catch his eyes drifting a little too down south. you think you’re mistaken, but his look lingers and you can’t believe it.
“jungkook, are you staring at my tits?”
considering that you first expected your night to begin with a tinder date, you chose your outfit carefully. the top you threw on is a leopard print halter top with an open front and a gold clasp in the middle - not exactly leaving much to the imagination. even the tiny denim skirt isn’t exactly what jungkook is used to seeing you it, at least when you hang out with him.
jungkook’s movements are slower with the liquor in his body, so he doesn’t even bother denying it. “yeah,” he says simply.
you smack his arm without hesitation. “god, all you men are the same.”
“ow - what? it’s not like you’re an ugly hag or something,” jungkook retorts and the statement doesn’t fly past your head.
he’s not wrong and you know that. still, you’ve always assumed that it’s the same case for jungkook as it is for you. not stupid nor blind, but simply uninterested. this shared mindset is what makes your friendship work as an attractive man and an attractive woman. everyone around the two of you has questioned it at least once - if you and jungkook ever saw each other in that way.
the answer has always remained the same. the two of you are friends and anything else has never been on the table simply because it’s never come to mind.
so, you brush off his staring.
soon, you’re standing in front of jungkook’s front door, watching in silent amusement as he fumbles to open the door.
“you do know that you live here, right?” you quip dryly and it earns you a glare from your best friend.
it seems like forever ago when you made your first visit here. you were the very first person that saw jungkook’s new condo, purchased once he signed his rookie contract with the titans. the building itself left you breathless and that was before you even stepped foot inside. it’s a five bedroom behemoth of all marble with a wrap around balcony and high ceilings, easily worth a number that you probably couldn’t even dream of. after all these years, it’s still strange to see jungkook, the annoying boy you ate lunch with everyday in high school, with this much wealth. there were well off people where you came from and then there’s people like him, who have a boundless amount of money. it never changed jungkook, he’s never been that kind of person, but you often forget how different your lives are now.
there are a lot of memories in this place. you can remember every lavish party that jungkook has thrown over the years, where dozens of guests filled the surroundings to the brim. you also remember the quiet nights where it’s just you two, watching movies and eating dinner. quiet nights, like tonight.
you kick off your heels once he gets the door open, as does jungkook before he makes a beeline for his mini bar.
“if you wanna smoke, there’s some prerolls in my room,” he calls out, amidst the clinking of bottles and glasses.
knowing jungkook, that isn’t a suggestion - especially with the way the night has gone. poor guy probably needs it. you’re not necessarily opposed to the idea anyways, so you make your way into his bedroom, squinting because he keeps his condo so damn dark. the walls are dark and his lights are dim, as if he lives in some sort of dungeon.
you flick his lights on and as usual, his bedroom is a mess. jungkook has a habit of just throwing things everywhere and has always been this way since you guys were teenagers.
muttering to yourself, you shake your head. “at least he keeps the rest of his apartment clean.”
it doesn’t take you long to find the pack, sitting on top of his bedside table. by the time you do so, jungkook’s footsteps approach and he appears at the door with two glasses with ice and a whole unopened bottle of whiskey. normally, you would object to mixing liquors and claim that you’re too damn old for that shit, but tonight could be an exception. jungkook is mostly cheered up compared to when you first sat down with him at the beginning of the night, but a little more fun couldn’t hurt.
surely not.
“balcony?” you both say at the same time and both let out a tipsy giggle.
you have to lead the way because jungkook’s hands are full, but not before popping into his walk-in closet and snatching the first hoodie that you see. it may be june, but it’s still nearly one in the morning.
“don’t spill your drink on that sweater, that’s one of my favourites,” jungkook warns and follows you to the sliding door connected to the balcony from his bedroom.
as a new york city transplant, you’re still in awe of the skyline every time you see it - especially from as high up as where jungkook lives. the lights spread out across you endlessly, rolling out before you in dots and streaks and flashes for what seems like a thousand miles. you didn’t think it was possible for the sky to be so bright in the middle of the night until you moved to the city. you and jungkook used to count stars on his mom’s roof and that used to be the brightest sky you’ve ever seen.
even at this hour, the city is alive with noise. from the floor you’re situated on, you can only make out faint noises of cars of the street, but there’s still a hum in the air that never quite goes away.
“careful,” you remind jungkook, opening the door for him to step through.
he thanks you with a lazy grin. “i really doubt you’re gonna get cold, but there’s a blanket on the smoking couch if you need it.”
the smoking couch is a self-explanatory piece of furniture that jungkook actually got from you. even at his big age and salary, he asked for your couch a few years ago when you mentioned offhand that you were getting rid of it for a new one. jungkook complained it would be a waste of a perfectly good couch, but you had a feeling that he was too attached to the memories of it and how he would nap on it every time he visited your shoebox apartment.
its patchwork green and brown fabric doesn’t match any of jungkook’s other furniture, all of which are on the more modern and minimalistic side and worth several times the price, considering you found it for fifty bucks on facebook marketplace a few years ago. he has it out on his balcony with some plants and a little table for an ashtray. you plop right on the couch, tucking your feet underneath your knees and you do grab the blanket, but only to cover your lap and the tiny ass skirt you had on.
jungkook sits next to you and pours your drinks. “at least now that mariana’s gone, i don’t have to throw away this couch,” he muses, still trying to deflect the pain away. “she always said it was ugly.”
you laugh. “that’s becuase it is ugly.”
he flips you off and the two of you fall into conversation again, while sipping on your whiskey on the rocks. it’s easier to rant than earlier and the alcohol goes down smoother, too. jungkook continues talking about mariana and the faults in their relationship, while you patiently listen and give your two cents only when asked.
“then go find a pretty girl to sleep with,” you scoff when jungkook starts complaining about being lonely already. “you say you don’t wanna date, fine. i’m sure you’ll find a willing and able body to spend a night with you. you nba players have a reputation for a reason.”
jungkook rolls his eyes, pinching your leg at the comment. you squeal and slap his hand away. at this point in the night, it ends up being him who gets cold and demands for you to share the blanket with him. the summer heat has certainly died down in the night time and although it isn’t chilly, there is a slight wind. you begrudgingly scoot closer and do so instead of handing it to him because there’s no way you could take it off your lap.
“pft, you make it sound so easy,” he remarks.
you give him a look. “you’re jeon jungkook,” you deadpan, wondering if he has lost his mind. “i haven’t gotten laid in literal months, but if i was a rich and famous basketball player -”
“woah,” jungkook begins to laugh and holds his hand up. “months? you’re joking, right?”
“i’m glad my suffering is giving you a good laugh tonight,” you shoot back.
you find the forgotten prerolls and take one out, placing it in between in your lips to search for a lighter in between the couch cushions. jungkook digs into his pockets and pulls out one for you, clicking it and bringing it to your lips. he leans in when he does so and you can smell his woodsy cologne, mixed with the liquor on his breath.
“just surprised, that’s all.”
the tip burns amber and you inhale deeply, letting the weed travel into your head space. you open your eyes and clouds curl around your heads, as you pass the joint over to jungkook. as courtesy, you unzip the sweater you stole from him and fling it to the side, so it doesn’t end up smelling dank. the sharp air hits your chest and you’re feeling a little exposed, but you just let it be. you open your eyes and clouds curl around your heads, as you pass the joint over to jungkook.
you snort. “can’t imagine what it’s like?”
“no,” jungkook admits with a laugh, bringing the joint to lips. “don’t you, you know. . .get frustrated?”
too much information doesn’t really exist with jungkook to a certain extent. you don’t talk about things insanely detailed, but you’re adults about topics like sex. it’s not in your nature to give information to jungkook about anything beyond what you wouldn’t tell a female friend anyways.
you just sigh dramatically, tilting your head back to look at the sky. “yeah. why do you think i was disappointed after my date cancelled?” you snap. you normally wouldn't have gone for a dating app to fulfill your needs, but the drought was getting desperate.
“damn,” jungkook whistles and shakes his head in the same disbelief.
“tell me about it.”
“well, what do you wanna do about it?”
it’s an innocent question at first. but, the air feels strange around you. the liquor burns hot underneath your skin and smoke warms your cheeks, the silver of it dancing around you in a haze. you feel light from everything swirling in your body, but the atmosphere is heavy. jungkook’s heavy lidded glance is casual at first, but it's like there's something’s he’s holding back.
you know where you are before you open your eyes. metal tickles your belly and it's jungkook’s rings, as one hand splays across your torso and the other arm tightly wrapped around your waist. you can hear a low hum coming from the living room, likely his housekeeper vacuuming. his balcony door is left slightly ajar and the morning traffic fills your ears.
his balcony. last night. you left it open, last night.
the realization is slow and ludicrous, as if you're in a cartoon. you even comically open a single eye to confirm your suspicions and that you aren't imagining things.
you’re in jungkook’s bed.
he’s pressed up behind you and when you finally make a movement, you notice that you’re naked under his sheets.
the third realization is actually the realization of everything that occurred last night. most of it comes back to you, at least the important parts. some of the fragmented moments are lost with whatever liquor you downed. but, his words echo in your head - the promise made between the two of you. it plays back in your head on repeat like a sick jokes and the wicked headache throbbing in your ears doesn’t help. you knew you’d be hungover today, but this isn’t how you expected to wake up.
you shift slightly and your heart drops when you feel the rumble of jungkook’s chest, as he groans when you move.
by this point, you’re pretty much in shock. you’ve accepted the fact that you are definitely naked in your best friend’s bed and that there’s a certain ache in parts of your body that you can’t ignore. not like you could deny anything because, unlike the movies, you remember how this came to be. you just don’t know what to think.
“don’t run.” jungkook’s muffled voice mutters lowly, his face pressed into your hair.
jungkook thinks for you with these words and he’s right. you wanted to run. this insane and that’s the only option here. in that very moment, you’re sure that over a decade of friendship just went down the drain because neither of your desperate asses could keep their hands to yourselves. still, he doesn’t let you go and even pulls you closer against his back.
“jungkook -”
“ - it’s fine.” he yawns lazily. “we’re cool. chill out and stop moving.”
you still. your mouth opens, trying to find the words to reply, but you then hear a low snore. bastard. it seems like jungkook wasn’t even looking for a reply. he just wanted to go back to sleep.
when you experimentally try to peel his arm off, he bristles in his sleep and tightens his grip again.
there’s no escaping. you let out a huff. maybe he has a point. even if you try to leave, it doesn’t change anything. he said you guys are cool. you figure that means he isn’t making big deal out of things and you shouldn’t either.
jungkook said the exact same thing last night. all of the lingering questions in your mind deplete at that and you have no choice but to sink into his embrace, at least for the time being. your head pounds, but the lull of sleep begins to circle you again. his arms are too comfortable and the scent of his fresh sheets calm you down.
a part of you wouldn’t admit it, but you’re okay with that. for now. if what you agreed on last night remains true, then this is. . . okay. there shouldn’t be any questions that follow. you ignore the unknown sinking feeling in your stomach and close your eyes.
jungkook nudges for you to turn around and you do, without even thinking twice. he pulls your into his chest and your head rests in the crook just underneath his chin. you breathe in deeply and you let sleep take over again.
the blanket leaves your lap when you crawl on top of jungkook, straddling him. it comes without thinking twice after the two of you looked at each other dead in the eye, saying this should be fine. you place your hands on his chest to steady yourself against the buzz of liquor in your muscles.
he chuckles at your clumsiness, but he grips your hips to keep you in place.
“it’s just one time, right? everything goes back to normal after?” you repeat for maybe the third time, needing the assurance in this unbelievable situation. you didn’t even consider this as an option and yet, you’re sitting on jungkook’s lap.
you think it’s the alcohol, but you’re not nervous. he isn’t either. for you, you still don’t think that this is real. but, when you look up at jungkook, he’s calm and moving easily. he has an air of confidence that you’ve never seen up close, only from the wall during college frat parties when a classmate would pull him to the side to flirt with him. you’ve also seen it during interviews, when he plays up his personality for the fans. it’s attractive and it’s not a debate.
jungkook nods, eyes drifting to the way your legs are parted above him. “everything goes back to normal. one time.” his hands slowly graze lower, to the hem of your denim skirt. “nothing serious. just stress.”
that’s what this is. you’re both stressed out and this is an outlet for you let it all out. there’s no other reason for the uncomfortable wetness in between your legs. your breath hitches when his fingers trail further down, until he palms the flesh just underneath your ass.
“okay.”
“you sure this is okay?” he has to ask again, too, just like you. his eyes burn into yours, searching for any doubt.
you don’t verbally answer. something comes over you and instead, you experimentally lower yourself into his lap - enough for you to finally feel the hardness bulging out of his jeans. with a roll of your hips, jungkook hisses and your mouth hangs open. the message is clear and both of you are too deep in to take any steps back.
jungkook brings his lips to yours and kisses you slowly, like he’s savouring the taste of you on his mouth.
he’s a good kisser. a great one even.
he sucks on your tongue and you feel your heart stutter. you make him hear it, too, when you whine at his boldness. your grab his chest more firmly now, feeling the hard planes of muscle underneath his shirt.
you kiss him back with vigour and he also responds with a tighter grip of his hands, now on the curve of your ass. he squeezes a generous handful, earning another rock of your hips. you move without even thinking, grinding down into his clothed erection.
jungkook pulls back, only to reattach his mouth to the column of your throat. you think you’re floating.
“fuck -” you sigh, feeling your skin tingle with each nip and kiss jungkook brings to your skin. it’s intoxicating, the way he feels.
he moves like he knows what he wants. now that he has your permission, he can do it. you bite your lip when you see jungkook undoing the clasp at the front of your shirt. when your tits come free from your top, he pauses for just half a second and hopes that the groan he involuntarily makes isn’t as desperate as he thinks it sounds. you don’t even know that you’re aching for it until he wraps his lips around one of your nipples, flicking his tongue skillfully against the bud.
you tangle your fingers in his hair as he draws circles against your nipple, grinding up to meet the rhythm of your rolling hips. jungkook decides he’s had enough and releases your tits with an obscene popping sound to suddenly stand up with you in his arms.
jungkook doesn’t struggle a single bit to carry you back into his bedroom, abandoning everything on his balcony. he hungrily captures your lips again when he does so, effortlessly leading the way without letting go. he kicks the sliding door open back into his room and steps carefully back inside.
a gasp leaves your mouth when he practically throws you onto his bed.
your eyes are smoldering, watching jungkook yank his shirt off. you’ve seen him shirtless many times throughout the years, but it feels different tonight. your gaze trails down and memorizes every curve and vein and muscle lined with ink. you also fully take your top off, chucking it to his floor, and he climbs onto the bed - looking like a predator stalking his prey.
he finds your lips again as he shoves his hand up your skirt, making a strangled noise when he finds your panties completely soaked. it’s almost embarrassing how wet you are for jungkook. you whine and he moves the lace to the side, slowly dragging a single finger along the outside of your folds - just enough for you feel, but not enough to be where you really want him. your hips jerk slightly and you pull away from the kiss to fumble with the zipper of his jeans.
“off,” you pant, feeling dizzy as though your breath has been physically knocked out of you.
jungkook only stops teasing you to kick off his jeans and when he turns back to you, your mouth goes dry at the sight of how big the bulge in his boxers is. you don’t have a moment to react further because jungkook pushes your legs further apart and presses soft kisses up your thigh. he sees the arousal in between your thighs and he knows what he wants. what he needs.
he looks up at you with darkened lips, wet with saliva. “gonna eat you out now,” jungkook rasps and his directness alone almost draws a moan out of you. “tell me if i do anything you don’t like.”
you nod rapidly. his mouth finally approaches your core and you can feel your knees buckling from just the ghost of his breath. jungkook licks a languid stripe up your pussy and through the lace fabric of your panties, burying his nose into it. you cry out, fisting a handful of his hair again and he enjoys it, groaning your name when you do so.
he finally hooks his thumbs underneath and drags your panties down your legs. you begin to reach for the zipper of your skirt when his hand shoots out.
“no. keep the skirt on, it’s hot.”
you bite your lip, clenching around nothing from his words alone.
jungkook’s mouth connects with your body again, noisily letting you know how much he’s enjoying it. your back arches off the mattress with each lick and suck, as he focuses on your puffy clit and the sinful noises that it draws out of you.
a single digit eases its way past your walls and you’re so wet that there’s little resistance. he curls the fingers once and you whimper, desperately needing more.
“please,” is all you can babble, mouth hung open.
he listens well, slipping a second finger inside and moans when he does, like he can’t get enough of you. the two fingers plunge deep and his thumb circles your clit with precision, palm slapping wet against your cunt.
he growls against your thighs , mostly to himself. “fucking hell, this pussy is so noisy for me -” and returns his mouth back to your clit, wrapping his lips around it.
jungkook adds a third finger and the sweet stretch is all you need to finally see stars. it comes all at once, dizzying and hot, taking over your vision and all you can do is pull jungkook closer by the hair. you cum on his mouth, swearing incoherently, and he doesn’t let up - pumping his fingers into your greedy hole and swirling his tongue around your clit until you’re too sensitive to take more.
you’re given a moment to catch your breath, chest heaving because you don’t remember the last time you came so hard. jungkook is caught off guard when you yank him in for another kiss, palming his clothed cock when you do so. you taste yourself on his tongue and he moans into your mouth, the vibration deep, not letting up when you finally slip your hand under the waistband of his boxers.
jungkook is big. you could already tell by the imprint of his erection, but feeling him is another story. he makes quick work of the remaining clothing on his body, as do you - clothes haphazardly thrown across his bedroom.
you try to sit up onto your knees, stroking his thick cock, when he stops you.
“no, no,” he chuckles darkly, pinning you back down by the hips. you give him a look and jungkook shakes his head. “i won’t last if you do anything.”
he spreads your legs and you almost miss it, but he pauses for half a second to admire how pretty you look. jungkook brings two fingers to your lips and you open them without having being told to so do. you wrap your lips around the fingers, sucking gently, and it elicits a deep exhale from jungkook.
his fingers ease into your pussy again, sinking into the wet heat and your thighs tremble. you sigh, as you anticipate jungkook’s next move. you’re visibly a bit nervous - it’s been a while since you’ve been with anybody and he’s impressive. you could tell that it’s going to be a slow adjustment.
jungkook notices and kisses your forehead, as if to reassure you. it’s sweet - a little too sweet for the moment and the circumstances - but, it still relaxes you.
“i need you inside me. now.”
he groans at your words and doesn’t hold back any more. lining himself up with your entrance, your eyes nearly roll back to the back of your head from just the tip dragging inside your walls. he’s teasing you purpose, barely getting the tip wet and so, you dig your nails into his back.
“fuck, okay,” jungkook chuckles darkly and pushes in, the stretch more than what you’re used to. “you still whining?”
you don’t have it in you to curse at him because of the way his thick length is burying inside your pussy. your clenching walls have dissolved whatever teasing jungkook has left in him because he’s now a moaning mess.
“god, you feel so good,” he breathes, trying to will himself to still and prevent himself from losing control.
“more,” you choked with big eyes, as you adjust to his length.
he can’t deny you for long. jungkook finally bottoms out and your back arches off the mattress at the feeling of being so full.
he fucks into you, abs contracting with each rough thrust, and you love every second it. you make it known that you don’t want him to hold back, whispering dirty pleads into his ear.
the pace he sets is brutal - like he’s starving. his hips snap ruthlessly, as he watches the way your tits bounce with every thrust. the way he’s completely and utterly pussy drunk is the hottest thing you’ve ever seen in your life, watching the way his face morphs into complete bliss at the way your slick covers his length every time it disappears into your cunt. he brings a thumb to your clit and you mewl desperately, feeling a knot build in your stomach.
jungkook leans down, dipping his tongue to your collarbone and up to your ear. “you’re taking me so well,” he grunts and the praise goes right to your head.
“fuck - i’m gonna -” you cry out, as the pressure builds and you know you’re close.
you’re taken aback when jungkook grabs your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes.
“don’t close them. i wanna watch you while you cum on my cock.”
nearly screaming, you reach your second climax with jungkook gripping your face. his eyebrows furrow and his jaw clenches as he chases his own release, his eyes never leaving yours. your vision is white hot and you see double for a few moments, arching off the bed again. the way your walls flutter around his cock sends him over the edge.
his mouth falls open and with a shudder of your name, coats your insides with his release. you wrap your legs around him when he does, feeling every twitch and pulse of his heavy cock, completely filling you up.
“shit,” jungkook pants into your neck, still buried deep inside you.
you whimpers when finally pulls out slightly a few moments later, when you both catch your breath. jungkook looks down and hisses at not just near the loss of contact, but the way his sticky seeds spills out of your entrance before he’s fully out.
the noise that comes out of your mouth seems to be one of protest. he isn’t far off either, as he grows half hard again inside you at the sight of the mess he’s made in your pussy.
neither of you have to say anything. instead, jungkook flips you over so that you’re now on top.
“think you have the energy to go again?” you tease, hands steadying yourself by placing your palms flat on his muscular chest.
you don’t know what comes over you. you’re needy, hot, and you know you could go for hours. the smirk on jungkook’s face mirrors yours and you can tell he’s thinking the same thing. he doesn’t answer, only lands a harsh smack to your ass. it elicits a moan out of you and unconsciously, you sink all the way down on his cock again.
you and jungkook don’t break promises. vows are sacred in your friendship and always have been. he remained your prom date even after several girls chased a 'yes’ out of him during your senior year of high school. you never missed any of his games in college, even the exhibition bouts and away face offs miles away from campus. the two of you never lied to each other nor missed any milestones. you remember when he rushed back to new york after a six game road trip in the west coast, exhausted and sleep deprived, just to make your graduation ceremony.
we’re cool.
that’s how you end up eating scrambled eggs at jungkook’s island counter, while he sips on coffee and finishes cooking the last of his gross sausage-slash-cottage cheese situation. you wear one of his oversized t-shirts and shorts that go up to below your knees, half paying attention to the show playing on your phone.
it isn’t awkward, but the air feels slightly charged. maybe it’s just in your imagination because he whistles happily as he moves his breakfast around in the frying pan. he doesn’t usually make his breakfast, preferring meal prep, but today is an exception to a lot of things . . .like sleeping with his best friend.
still, the promise from last night remains and the two of you carry on as best as you can without making things weird. you try to push any thoughts away to uphold his promise alone, pretending like it’s any other morning. you’ve even fallen asleep in his bed with him a few times before in the past - long ago, before mariana, at least - so, you try and make it seem like one of those nights.
it’s a slow paced morning since peeling away from jungkook’s body when you woke up - until he gets a call.
“what’s up, garbanzo?”
garbanzo is the ridiculous nickname that jungkook’s agent goes by and to this day, you seriously can’t recall that man’s government name. jungkook answers the call on speaker since he’s cooking and you tune out most of the conversation, until you pick up some discussion about the olympics.
that’s why you love the month of june. you get jungkook all to yourself no matter what and even though he may not have a tropical getaway in sight with his now ex-fiancee, he still has an obligatory trip to paris to make. team usa needs him badly and he’s been itching for a gold medal since the start of his career. he really only has these few weeks to relax until he has to step up.
garbanzo runs jungkook through his schedule prior to the start of the olympics and it sounds jam-packed.
“we’ll need you in vegas for the 29th to check in before training camp,” he says and you notice jungkook sigh. “then, we only got a few days of practice before the exhibition showcase stretch and the last of prep - get you used to fiba rules and letting coach run through all the lineups and systems. the team is expected in paris on the 24th. any questions?”
jungkook stops cooking at some point to search for a pen and paper. you’ve already walked over from the living room and you slide his notebook over. his scatter brain never remembers anything unless writing it down. he gives a lopsided grin when you do so and mouths a ‘thank you’ while holding the phone in between his cheek and shoulder.
that’s his life for you. it’s like he’s a machine and he still somehow has time to pour into his personal relationships, like trying to figure out his love life and making time to see you, his best friend.
when jungkook hangs up, much of the earlier tension lingering from what you and he did last night has dissipated. he’s too visibly stressed out to even be thinking about that stuff and so, you also push it away.
“you’re leaving soon,” you say, sipping of the glass of orange juice that he poured for you earlier.
“i am,” jungkook replies, shoulders sagging. “not like i wasn’t expecting it - i signed up for the damn thing. it just feels like i’ve barely gotten any time off.”
the emergence of small talk is enough to let any of your nagging thoughts about last night vanish.
you nod in understanding. you know that he still needs to go home and visit his parents before training camp. a part of you wanted to come with, at least to see your own family, but you just have too much going on at the clinic with one of your coworkers away on vacation.
"bring me a nice souvenir back from france, okay?”
“what, like a chanel bag? their paris boutiques are the best.”
rolling your eyes, you reply, “i was thinking of something more like an eiffel tower figurine.” your tone is dry and unamused. the difference in wealth between you and jungkook has always taken a backseat to your friendship, but it’s moments like this when you remember. it’s not strange at this point in your life, but you still get taken aback by how casual jungkook can be about it. you don’t blame him, though, as you’re sure that he’s just used to spoiling his parents and his little girlfriends in the past.
he just chuckles a bit. “okay, okay, fine. wish you would be able to make a game, though.”
to this day, you really do try to make all of jungkook’s games. he’s gifted you season tickets at madison square garden and when you can, you travel for many of his playoff games. whenever his parents are able to make it to an important away game, it’s likely that you’re seated right next to them. you’ve confused broadcasters and have been called his relative a few times due to the frequency of your appearances, despite the fact that you and jungkook look absolutely nothing alike. going to paris, though? not only out of budget - you refuse his offers to fly you out to a totally different continent, which is much different than him getting you a hotel room out of state - but, again. work. it’s taken over your life.
“i’ll be cheering you on from my shoebox,” you say, shaking your head.
jungkook doesn’t know it now, but this is the last time he can catch you before he heads off to training camp. he promises to you that everything is fine and normal that morning, but nothing is fine and normal in his head after. the memories of the night you shared swarms his head, stuck there like a square peg in a round hole. the next month and a half are agonizing and it has nothing to do with his trip to the olympics.
he doesn’t understand why. he’s slept with women casually on countless of one night stand occasions in the past and forgets their names right after. he’s made promises with you since the beginning of your friendship that he’s never broken.
yet, jungkook can’t forget you and struggles to keep the promise he made to you. that everything will go back to normal afterwards.
you seem to fare well enough. you continue to call and text him throughout his stay in vegas and his journey to paris for the games, no matter how overworked you are with everything else going on in your life. you keep the promise well enough, at least in jungkook’s eyes.
when he finally comes to a realization, the texts and calls from you stop.
you go almost radio silent by the first week of august and jungkook nearly misses it because of the hectic schedule of the olympic games. jungkook’s mind is set on the tournament and pushes the conversation he wants to have with you to when he returns to new york. team usa fights through the quarterfinals and semifinals in the span of two days and the only contact he receives from you is a bland congratulation after each bout. no calls, no memes, no everyday small talk.
he only recognizes the drop in communication from you after team usa captures the gold medal. you send him another congratulations text and when he reads through your text thread, jungkook notices that you have said nothing else but that and immediately sees that something is wrong.
then, his fears kick in again. he just can’t lose you, too. jungkook pushes away the nagging realization to the bottom of his heart and tracks you down because you’re his best friend. nothing else.
JULY
it’s hard to avoid jungkook when you live in the same city, even if it’s as big and bustling as new york. you’ve never had to avoid jungkook in the past, so you grow nervous when the olympic games come to a close and athletes return back to their home countries. you don’t know how much longer you can dodge his increasing calls and texts, which start off casual. jungkook double, triple texts you on multiple occasions. he asks how you’ve been, if everything is alright, and repeatedly tries to make plans with you. there’s about a month or so until nba training camp starts and the titans need jungkook back in their facilities, so he’s trying his best to catch you before then.
still, you try your absolute best to ghost him - at least until you can figure your shit out.
once jungkook left in june, you did your best to maintain your usual friendship, even after what happened. it’s easy to not think too much about it when the man in question was missing for the majority of the summer and you figure that, by the time he comes back from paris, it’ll all just be a faint memory.
your plan goes swimmingly well, until you find yourself heaving in front of a toilet every morning come late july.
“are you. . .seeing anyone?”
around this time, your older sister, layla, comes to new york for a visit. she lives and works upstate, so she tries her best to see you as often as possible. it doesn’t take long for you to make a run for your bathroom after letting her in through your door.
it’s impossible to hide, especially in your little studio apartment - you’ve refused to even think about having another sloppy roommate since getting your job, so you settle for the tiny unit. you make her some coffee, as you go over your plans to grab food with her, until you feel a familiar queasiness in your stomach. it’s the fourth day in a row where you’ve vomited violently into your toilet, but you couldn’t cancel your sister date because of some stupid stomach bug.
“what?” you ask hazily, hunched over on your bathroom floor. you’ve been so fatigued lately and any sudden movements, like running to make it to the toilet, leave you feeling lightheaded.
she follows you into your bathroom, privacy be damned when you run off in the middle of a conversation and the sounds of your vomiting become too loud to ignore.
layla raises an eyebrow at you. “you heard me.”
it’s another hot summer day and the denim of your jean shorts dig into your waist, making you even more uncomfortable. you adjust your tank top over your stomach.
“no. i’m not,” you reply, still confused at the question, and change the topic. “can you please grab me some pepto bismol? it’s in my medicine cabinet -”
“pepto bismol?” layla interrupts with a laugh. “why would you need that?”
“for my stomach bug?” you say, feeling irritated at the way she’s laughing at you.
layla is older than you by eight years and has lived by the whole older-sister-knows-best mantra since you were babies. the age gap was a pain growing up because she never hesitated to boss you around, but as you’ve grown older, it’s evolved into more worldly advice and looking out for you. she’s the glamorous first born daughter, who’s put together and has worn the same shade of red lipstick since she was a teenager. you’ve always silently understood that she does, in fact, know best - at least until now.
she crouches down next to you, smoothing out your hair and tying it back with the extra scrunchie that she always keeps on her wrist. “babe, you do not have a stomach bug,” layla urges.
“what?”
“how long have you been throwing up in the morning?” she asks.
in that moment, you realize what layla is alluding to. it hits you like a truck, but you still try your best to stave it away with the best of your defenses.
you falter slightly. “a few days.”
layla helps you to your feet, hooking her arms under yours and bringing you up with brute force. she puts the toilet seat down for you to sit on, as she leans against your bathroom sink. the room feels cold, in spite of the blazing heat spreading throughout new york city. your fluorescent lights seem to sting your eyes all of a sudden.
“when was your last period?” the question comes hesitantly when she sees the expression tugging at your face, looking scared and unsure.
in the span of five seconds, you go through all the possibilities of anything but this one. you also quickly figure out that you’ve missed your period for this cycle. it’s an internal bargaining with yourself, convincing yourself that it could be anything but this. you have to be sick. it’s what you’ve been telling yourself for days - have you known for that long? the idea never even crossed your mind because it was so preposterous.
layla can see it in your eyes and a thin smile spreads on her lips, the kind that is knowing and pitying.
you finally speak. “layla, there’s no way. absolutely none.” your voice is slightly shaky and you want to believe that it’s from vomiting your breakfast into the toilet a few minutes ago.
“do you want to go pick up a test?” she asks, so gently.
there aren’t anymore questions that follow, at least in the next little while when you and your sister go to the pharmacy across the street for a pregnancy test. the trip is almost silent because you don’t know what to say. layla isn’t expecting some sort of loaded explanation, but you debate on telling her about what happened in june with jungkook. you don’t, not until you’re sure.
it’s a cruel thing - you’ve spent all month trying to forget about that night because it was supposed to just be one time and that’s it. you’ve pushed it away with every text and call to jungkook in paris, who’s at the tail end of the games and needs focus now more than ever.
the heat of new york city sinks into your skin with each footstep outside and a certain daze floats in your head, dizzying you with fear and disbelief.
you take a test and you take another. three, even, just to be sure. layla doesn’t need to be there at all, but you ask her to sit on the floor instead of wait outside the door. you force yourself to not even think about jungkook during the process, completely in denial.
so, you pee in a cup, while your sister tries to distract you with hometown gossip. she tells you about the neighbours getting divorced and about the girl in your graduating year that had a baby before high school ended. you try your best to listen and give your two cents, but at some point, the waiting has to come to a stop.
six lines in total. two of them for each test.
“are you sure that’s two lines?”
you stare back at each test, hoping that at least one of them says otherwise, just enough to fuel the certainty in your mind that screams that this isn’t really happening.
layla grimaces and looks over your shoulder. she places a hand there, calmly. you try to ground yourself in it, but the tears have already started to fall.
she shakes her head. “you’re pregnant,” she says, getting straight to the point. there’s no use in beating around the bush, especially when the evidence is crystal clear in front of you both.
all your life, you weren’t sure what your future would look like when it came to family and love. your parents divorced when you were so young that you didn’t know what a healthy marriage would look like. you’ve dated casually, but it’s never gotten far and you only have yourself to blame. you’ve only ever wanted to be successful in your career and make money. you never wanted to get married and thinking about kids wasn’t even on the table, especially when the topic never even came up with your exes.
now, you’re pregnant.
you’re also still crying, burying your face into your hands as you sit on the toilet. it crashes upon you when layla utters those words because it’s suddenly become reality. you don’t even know what you’re crying over, whether it’s the dumb decision you made to sleep with your best friend or the embarrassing scene you’re making in front of your sister.
you cry everyday until your doctor’s appointment. like everything else in your life, you’re on top of it. you schedule it the same day that layla comes to visit and you take the tests. you needed answers as soon as possible, while all these thoughts float over your head.
how do i tell him? do i tell him? do i keep the baby?
as this happens, you watch jungkook on your laptop, streaming his games every single time. you text him each congratulations, short and almost empty. you don’t say anything else because you can’t bring yourself to lie to him in any capacity, so you create distance. that’s the easiest thing to do in your mind and always has been. when trouble comes, you run. you could only hope that jungkook doesn’t notice, even though you know damn well that he knows this about you better than anyone.
when layla comes back to the city on the date of your appointment to accompany you, it’s obvious to her that you’ve come to a decision.
she sits across from you at the coffee shop next to the doctor’s office. the two of you walked here in silence after your appointment, where the doctor explained how far along you are and the options that you have. it’s now the beginning of august and jungkook has won his first ever gold medal, expected to come back to new york sometime in the next few days.
"i think i want to keep the baby,” you finally utter, hands in your lap and your eyes fixed on your latte. you can’t say it to layla with a straight face, so you look away.
it’s a strange, sudden attachment you feel to the life growing inside of you. the indecision over your pregnancy has bent and willed you to tossing and turning every single night until your appointment, when you finally felt this unknown calm. you looked at the ultrasound and saw the indication of this baby and it melted every wall you shot up since taking the pregnancy tests.
layla doesn’t hesitate. “i know,” she whispers. “i saw the look on your face earlier.”
unlike the past few days, you don’t cry. you’ve wondered if you’ve been crying from confusion or anxiety, but the answer is clear today. the tears are indeed from the fear of the unknown, until you finally came to an answer.
“this wasn’t part of the plan,” you say with a shaky voice.
the plan.
you’ve always been the kind of person who has always known what she wants and you’ve been willing to do whatever it takes to get there. you made it to your dream school after trials and tribulations, got a job, and the next step was supposed to be opening your own private clinic. you don’t do well with uncertainties - as if anyone does, especially with a surprise like this - but it’s different for you. you can barely operate when you don’t know something.
yet, you don’t know at all what’s supposed to come next after this. for some reason, this uncertainty doesn’t thud in your chest or stutter your brain. even though you could easily not go through with the pregnancy, it’s like the option was never even there. the feelings you hold for this unborn child are finite and you can’t even begin to think otherwise.
layla places a hand over yours. “and that’s okay,” she says.
you can tell that she wants to ask so bad. she’s avoided questioning you about the paternity of your child since finding out about your pregnancy, waiting for you to come at your own pace. you’re not the type to randomly sleep around and she figures that there’s a story to be told, when you’re ready.
it’s now or never.
you lean back in your seat, contemplating and tangling the words from your mouth. once you tell layla, it doesn’t just become real, but it effectively breaks the promise you and jungkook made on that june night. everything was supposed to go back to normal after that night, after the one time that you two cross a line. it nearly breaks your heart because this has never happened before.
today marks the first time that you’ve ever abandoned a promise between you and your best friend.
it shatters so loudly in your ears and it’s like everything plays back before you in a film reel. in that moment, you recall the moment that you and jungkook became lab partners in high school. he was so shy and awkward back then, having yet grown into his charms and frame. you became quick friends after bonding over rock bands and video games. you remember him leading the varsity team to a national championship and then again, when he went to duke. over the years, you recall every time he’s defended you and stood up for you for various reasons - like when people question the sincerity of your friendship. it’s happened a lot with girls who wanted to get close with him or people who wanted to be friends with jungkook because of his fame.
you think of other promises, the ones that live in the a.m. and whispered conversations in the dark. he’s promised to never leave your side. you’ve promised to never change, no matter what. the loyalty etched between the two of you runs deep and until now, you were certain that there’s nothing in the world that could shake it off.
when you avoid jungkook for the first week of his arrival back to new york, it’s because you realize that you’re not only breaking that promise from june, but so many more from the years past. you can’t bear to face him afterwards, even though you know you have to talk to him at some point about this.
you’ve ran away from a lot in your life. you’ve ran away from relationships that scared you because of the commitment it involved. you’ve ran from your hometown, where all your trauma and hurt lives in your childhood home, where the walls are stained from the arguments of your parents. you’ve even ran from yourself over the years, throwing yourself into your work because you can’t stand to face your flaws and anxieties about anything outside of it. you tried running from jungkook that morning in june.
this time, you need to stop running. you have no choice.
AUGUST
jungkook notices quickly that you’ve created distance between the two of you. it’s not the kind where you need a few days of space, but he can instantly tell that it’s different this time. he isn’t the type to do so, but he blows up your phone by day three of your avoidance from him. he expected to hang out with you as soon as he landed from his trip to paris, but you didn’t even call once.
he shows up at the clinic where you work and when he does, you’re not even surprised. you’ve been drowning in your agony over the situation, while still coming to terms of the new life that you’re about to enter. this isn’t a light decision that you’ve made, but you still make it and you need to accept it. so, it’s almost as if you’re waiting for jungkook to come to you because everything else is just so damn loud and you can’t do it alone.
a baseball cap covers his eyes, the usual accesstory that jungkook leans towards when he doesn’t want to be recognized in public. he dons a black graphic t-shirt that exposes his tattooed sleeves and baggy denim that falls just underneath his knees. his signature shoe line is what you notice first, the sneakers a bright orange on his feet.
jungkook calls your name from where he sits in the waiting room of your clinic.
you’re still in your scrubs, as you walk out with your bag. the only other people still around at this hour are one of the massage therapists and the receptionist. the latter eyes you, having informed you a few minutes beforehand that jungkook is here, waiting for you.
“hi,” you breathe heavily. even though you were warned that he’s here, the actual sight of him is like you’re being thrown in a loop - disoriented and shocked.
“sorry to show up suddenly,” he says, standing up warily. he’s still not sure why you’ve been avoiding him and you can tell from the softness in his eyes that he’s hurt. your heart aches at that. “i texted you that i’d be coming, but i don’t know if you saw . . .”
you’ve been leaving all of his messages on delivered since he won his gold medal. this is in spite of the fact that you’ve read every single text. everything ranging from updates on his travel to him trying to make plans and finally, jungkook questioning if you’re alright and if something is going on.
it was easy to ignore it all, until he’s standing in front of you like a puppy with wide eyes and slumped shoulders.
you lie by shaking your head, but you gesture for him to follow you outside, so that the others can lock up the clinic. “how are you?” you say, trying to fill this silence.
he doesn’t answer until the two of you are in the underground parking lot of the building. you take the subway to work, but you already know that jungkook has driven here and you wordlessly walk over to where his bmw m8 is parked.
the two of you stop and jungkook leans against the side of his car, eyes fixed on you.
“what’s going on?”
you look at your feet, suddenly at a lost for words. you’ve practiced this in your head so many times, the way this conversation would go. it’s what comes after the conversation that you’re afraid of. you know exactly how jungkook would react. at least you think you do. he would offer child support and your friendship would never be the same because a promise - several of your promises, actually - has been broken. he would be present, but things will change forever.
the answer you give is not the one that jungkook wants. “can we go for a drive?” you answer his question with a question of your own, still not ready to let it all out.
an hour or so later, you and jungkook sit on the hood of his car on the old storm king highway, just outside of new york city. it’s a beautiful three mile segment of a winding, curvy road that’s always been your escape from the craziness of your lives within the city limits. the views of the hudson river at this pullout are breathtaking and for just a moment, you forget about everything.
jungkook fiddles with his hands and doesn’t look at you. he thinks that he’s done something wrong, you can tell, and it spreads a dull ache across your chest. you’ve upset him. it takes everything in you to not wrap your arms around him.
instead, you place a hand over his and he stops fidgeting. he finally looks up at you, eyes still sad.
“i’m sorry for avoiding you,” you finally whisper, trying your best to not cry.
jungkook notices and his expression morphs from despondence to concern. “what?” he murmurs back. then, his fears finally fall out. “if it’s because of what we did, why did you keep acting like everything was fine in july?”
you shook your head rapidly. “it’s not because of that,” you say, even though it’s a half truth. you did want to keep trekking on after the night that the two of you slept together, but then this whole mess happened.
a wash of relief visibly moves over jungkook and he’s comfortable enough to scoot over closer to you, placing a hand on your shoulder.
“please, just tell me what’s going on,” he pleads and this time, you reach your limit of running away.
instead of verbally answering - because you’re scared of choking on your words and becoming a crying mess - you reach into your purse and hand him the ultrasound scan from your appointment. a picture tells a thousand words and you can’t imagine what words go through jungkook’s mind when he takes it and everything finally clicks into place.
he stills. he goes silent. he doesn’t react at first at all and this frightens you. you almost want to snatch the scan back and laugh about a good-natured prank. but, the two of you are grown up now. you’re adults with real world problems and decisions to make, long past the days when you were teenagers with nothing to lose.
this is the first moment in your life when such a reality hits you - that nobody is here to hold your hand or tell you that everything will be okay. not even jungkook.
after what feels like forever, he finally speaks.
“why didn’t you say anything?”
“because i promised you.”
you don’t specify what promise you’re referring to because at this point, you’ve broken so many. the promise back in june, the promise to never lie to one another, all of it. you can’t look at him, so you look out to the river below. a part of you wishes to live in that water, where the stream gently rocks in waves endlessly and nothing truly matters.
jungkook turns to you and reaches out to gently turn your chin towards him. his touch is soft, you let a tear trail down your cheek and it stings so bad. you brace yourself for the worst, but it never comes.
“you want to have this baby, don’t you?” he whispers and it takes you aback.
you thought that jungkook knew you so well that he’d be surprised that you’re willing to go through with the pregnancy. he’s supposed to assume that you don’t want the baby and is supposed to be angry with you for wanting otherwise. you’re the career woman with no time for anyone or anything. yet, he shocks you by immediately reading you and realizing that you, in fact, want this child.
your lips part and you need a second to find your words, even though your answer is crystal clear.
“y-yeah. i do,” you admit, still searching for any sign of anger in jungkook’s expression.
instead, he nods and you see the tears welling up in his own eyes. he leans in and kisses you right in between your eyebrows, lips so careful and light.
“i’m with you. every step of the way.”
there isn’t a universe where jungkook doesn’t say this, not with the way he cares so deeply about you, but hearing the words aloud finally tears down your inhibitions, freeing them to the wind swirling around the two of you. the lookout seems so much warmer now and everything in the world is muted to the sounds of jungkook’s assurances. he means the words, too. he cups your face and makes sure that you know that he means it, with the way he looks at you.
you whisper, “i don’t mean to drag you into this -”
“- drag me?” jungkook laughs a little, shaking his head like he can’t believe his words. “it’s not like this was a one woman job,” he says wryly.
“this is a huge thing, koo,” you reply, shoulders sagging. “our lives will change forever after this.”
his next move surprises you.
jungkook suddenly hops off the hood of the car. you’re about to ask him where he’s going when he also tugs you off the hood, only to drop down to the ground. on one knee. in front of you.
you nearly jerk back in shock, eyes wide at the sight. before you can say anything, jungkook grabs your hand and interrupts you with your name - breathy and sharp at the same time.
“marry me. please.”
the world stops spinning on its axis when jungkook says these words without hesitation. the summer air smells like greenery and a mixture of salt and fresh water from the hudson river below, but you can only smell the fear underneath your skin. you hear cars passing by, but it somehow feels so far away. it’s like a bubble has formed, trapping you and jungkook in a imaginary place where only you and he exist and nothing else matters.
the bubble pops fast. this is jeon jungkook, your best friend since you were sixteen, on one knee in front of you and asking you to marry him. the ultrasound scan is still tucked underneath his arm. and you? you’re unsure of what’s even real.
“what?” you say, jaw hung wide open. if he wasn’t there, in front of you on the ground, you would have sworn you heard his question wrong.
jungkook doesn’t falter. “i want you to marry me.”
all your life, you’ve been making promises to jungkook. somehow, in the span of less than two months, it feels like you’ve failed to uphold every single one. even looking into his big, brown eyes that hold nothing but hope and courage, you don’t know if you even have the guts to make a new one.
Content: sfw, fluff, sulky martin, ft. Jaehyun (BND)
Note: This was requested by an anon, thank you so much for requesting this one ᡣ𐭩 guys I fear I ate with this one. Enjoy luvs!!
The company has its ways of promoting you. You get invites from famous TV programs, talk shows, and mostly collab with other solo artists outside HYBE labels.
But what the fans really wanted, was you collaborating with your fellow HYBE artists.
It may be a feature in their variety show or a simple interaction at an awarding ceremony.
The fans absolutely loved it.
What they didn’t know was that your heart already belonged to one of HYBE’s newest rookies. Martin, from Cortis.
You loved him so much. And he does the same to you.
But keeping it secret was torture. Especially for him.
You knew your fans wouldn’t mind. But the company—and his fans—thought otherwise.
So you prayed for the day you wouldn’t have to hide. Until then, you worked.
Which is why you were in one of the practice rooms with Jaehyun from BoyNextDoor.
You two were currently practicing for a TikTok challenge that the company had arranged for you to do. You were going to dance “Killin’ it Girl” by J-Hope.
Jaehyun had been your friend since trainee days, which made it easy.
“Ok, what’s the next step again?” you asked, struggling to recall.
Gosh. Why does a TikTok feel harder to get rather than a whole performance?
“Ok so, you raise your right hand after stomping the feet.”He demonstrated. You nodded, mirroring him in the mirror.
“And then we go here. Then body wave together.” Jaehyun stepped beside you, his hand resting on your waist—exactly how J-Hope did it.
“Oh—sorry, is this okay?” he asked, hand hovering.
“Yeah, of course. You’re good.” You smiled.
He flashed his bunny grin and you continued practicing.
Minutes have passed and the two of you wanted one last run before filming the actual video.
The music played and your moves were swift and sharp along with his. You only wish you were as good as Alyssa—J-Hope’s partner.
And then, right at the body wave, the door creaked open.
Both of you froze in position—his hands on your waist, your body leaned against his. Through the mirror, you saw him.
Martin.
Your heart skipped. He looked unfairly good today. But then it hit you: your current pose.
You quickly stepped away, nudging Jaehyun’s hands off.
“Hello? Did you need something?” You fidgeted your fingers.
He stood there quiet for a while, holding the door knob. Before saying, “No. Sorry, wrong room.”
His voice was low. Firm. Different.
The door shut with a thud.
You spun to face Jaehyun. “Maybe we should take five.”
“Oh, ok.” He nodded.
You grabbed your water bottle, before plopping down on the floor leaning against the cold mirror.
Martin’s voice replayed in your mind. No way. Was he perhaps…jealous?
You laughed at yourself imagining a jealous Martin. Although he knows himself he has no reason to worry and be jealous about, he still sometimes does anyway.
Jaehyun joined you on the floor with his water bottle.
“So, you and Martin?” he asked casually.
You froze.
“Relax, I’m not telling anyone,” he added.
Exhaling, you asked, “How did you know?”
“Anyone can kind of tell. The way he looks at you. The way you look at him. Or when we always see you together around the building.”
Oh… and to think you were both keeping it lowkey…
“So much for keeping it lowkey.” You sighed.
After many takes and many, many mistakes you have finally recorded the perfect video. You just needed to wait for your manager to upload it later.
Your knees were hurting and your body ached. You needed a long good bath, a massage, a sip of your favorite drink and rest.
But most of all you needed him. You missed hugging him—even if you hugged him earlier just today.
You headed straight for the room where Cortis was practicing. You hear the faint music coming from the inside.
You love their songs. Of course, your producer boyfriend is a genius.
You knocked at the door before opening it slightly.
There you saw the five of them dancing, perfectly in sync.
“Hey (Y/N)!” James greeted you. The five of them stopped dancing and turned to face you too.
“I just wanted to see you guys practice.” You smiled, stepping inside.
“To see us practice? Or to see someone practice.” Keonho teases. While the others chuckled knowingly.
The boys were very well aware about the two of you. And they always love to tease the both of you about it.
“Haha. Very funny.” You deadpanned.
Normally, Martin would at least roll his eyes or throw a snarky comeback when the boys teased him.
But this time? Nothing. Not even a glance in your direction.
You frowned but sat quietly at the side.
“Alright, alright, let’s get back to practice.” He clapped his hands together—loud, sharper than usual.
You stayed and watch the whole practice. And the whole time he did not send you a glance.
He didn’t even look at you during his part. Which he always does.
Even when you smiled at him, he pretended not to see.
It stung. You really needed to talk to him.
After a few hours the room fell silent and the boys left one by one leaving Martin and you alone.
You approached as he shoved things into his bag a little too roughly.
“You did amazing by the way, baby.” You smiled. You held his arm softly.
“Thanks.” He said.
That was it? Thanks?
You pursed your lips thinking of what to say.
“Martin, are you mad at me?” You asked. Your heart clenching.
“You can tell me, you know.” You exhaled.
That finally made him look at you. His brows were drawn, his lips tugged down in a sulk.
“It’s nothing. It’s stupid really.” He shook his head, but his shoulders slumped like a sulky kid.
“Martin…” you pressed gently.
“How come you don’t dance with me?” He finally admitted, voice low.
What— Oh. Oh.
The realization almost made you laugh. So you were right.
The image of him standing at the door earlier—Jaehyun’s hands on your waist, your body leaning slightly against his—flashed in your head.
He was jealous. How stupid of you to not notice it immediately.
You reached up, tugging him gently by the sleeve until he faced you. “Baby, Jaehyun’s just a friend. And you know that.”
“It’s not just that,” he muttered, eyes finally meeting yours. “It’s us not being able to do that. Out there. Like you and him.”
Oh Martin… if you could only see that endearing look on your face. You thought.
You smiled. Maybe it was alright to film with each other. People will always talk anyways. So you decided.
You smiled, brushing his hair back. “Then we should. Shouldn’t we?”
His brows furrowed. “Are you being for real?”
“They don’t need to know our status though.” You giggled.
He let out a long sigh, and then his pout melted into the faintest smile. “I’m sorry, baby.”
Your heart could almost explode any second now. This was a rare side of him only a few has ever seen. And you’re glad that you were one of them.
“It’s totally okay, I understand you.”
“No, I should’ve just told you.” He shook his head, stepping closer, his hands sliding to your waist. His eyes softened. “I’m sorry, babe.”
And before you could respond, he leaned in slowly, pressing his lips to yours. Gentle at first, then warmer, lingering kisses that tasted like apology and longing all at once.
You laughed softly against his lips, and he only kissed you harder, showering you with a dozen more quick kisses along your cheeks and jaw until you were breathless with giggles.
When he finally pulled back, you asked,“Better?”
His heart fluttered. “Much better.”
A week after that, the company also thought that it would be great for the two of you to film a TikTok—alongside Juhoon.
And when that video was posted it blew up almost instantly. Fans all over the world adored the two of you and even started shipping you.
The comment section was flooded with comments like how softly he looks at you. How he high fives you more gently than he does to Juhoon or how his hands linger on your back, like it was used to being there on your waist.
And now every time you see Martin on his phone he scrolls through the endless comments on how you two would be the perfect couple.
Truth to be told, you guys already were.
Note: guys I PROMISE the next upload will be another member I just really love writing for Martin 😔😔 I promise yall I will write for the other members too, I swear.
The biggest client of the year. A hotel room. Two years of almosts.
When a late-night knock brings Seungcheol to your door, the line between CEO and employee finally blurs. Morning comes far too soon and so do coworkers with sharp eyes and even sharper suspicions.
The conference room still smelled like coffee and victory when the last handshake broke.
Choi Seungcheol, CEO, thirty-one, the man whose signature moved more money than most people saw in a lifetime stood at the head of the long glass table and looked at you like the room had narrowed to a single point. The client, a conglomerate VP who’d stonewalled three other firms, was laughing at something you’d said in the closing pitch. Not polite laughter. The real kind. The kind that meant contracts would be signed before the week was out.
You had done that.
Not the deck. Not the numbers he’d already known cold. You, the structure of the argument, the quiet pivot when the VP pushed on risk, the way you’d answered every question without looking at Seungcheol once for permission. Efficient. Precise. A little ruthless when it counted.
His jaw had flexed once, mid-meeting, when you’d dismantled a competitor’s claim with three slides and a smile. You’d felt his attention then the way you felt heat through glass: indirect, undeniable.
“We’ll send the final terms tonight,” the VP said, standing. “Pleasure doing business with people who actually know what they’re talking about.” His gaze flicked to you, then to Seungcheol. “You’ve got a sharp one, Choi.”
“I know,” Seungcheol said. Low. Certain. No smile for the room only the barest curve at the corner of his mouth when his eyes found yours again.
The team filed out in a rustle of tablets and relieved shoulders. Hana from strategy clapped your arm. Minjae muttered something about drinks that no one committed to. The hotel lobby beyond the glass walls glowed gold against the city dark. Business trip. Three nights. One floor of rooms block-booked under the company name so no one had to share walls with strangers.
You packed your laptop with hands that wanted to shake and refused to. Professionalism was a second skin. You wore it until the elevator doors shut on the last of the junior associates and the mirrored box held only you and the ghost of his stare.
Your room was 1842. Corner suite, king bed, floor-to-ceiling windows the city painted in neon and rain. You’d stripped out of the blazer the second the lock clicked, kicked off the heels, poured water that didn’t touch the dry of your throat. The win sat under your ribs like a second heartbeat. So did the way he’d said I know.
You showered quick — steam, citrus soap, hair twisted up so it wouldn’t soak. Sleep shirt. Soft shorts. Nothing that said I am waiting for anything. Because you weren’t. You were the best employee on this trip, and he was the CEO, and the line between those things had held for two years of late nights and shared flights and the occasional almost that never became.
Almost when he’d driven you home after the Osaka close and sat in the car too long. Almost when you’d stayed past midnight fixing a presentation and he’d loosened his tie and looked at your mouth. Almost every time his hand brushed the small of your back guiding you through a crowded lobby.
You turned off the bathroom light and the room went soft-blue with city glow. 11:47 p.m. You were reaching for the sheets when the knock came.
Not hallway loud. Two soft raps. Then stillness.
Your pulse climbed into your throat. You crossed the carpet barefoot, checked the peephole out of habit more than hope,
Choi Seungcheol stood in the corridor in a black T-shirt and dark sweatpants, hair damp like he’d showered too, no watch, no jacket. No CEO armor. Just the broad line of his shoulders and the set of his mouth that said he’d already decided something irreversible.
You opened the door.
He didn’t speak. Stepped in when you eased back. The latch snicked shut behind him. For a second the only sound was the air conditioning and the distant thrum of the city through glass.
“You were brilliant today,” he said. Rough. Quiet enough the walls might keep it. “I’ve watched a lot of people work. I’ve never watched anyone the way I watched you in that room.”
Heat crawled up your neck. “Seungcheol”
“I know.” His hand lifted, hovered near your cheek, didn’t touch yet. “I know every reason this is a terrible idea. I’ve recited them for months. Tonight I’m done.”
You could have stopped him. Could have cited policy, optics, the team two doors down. Instead you leaned the half-inch into his palm when it finally settled warm against your skin, and the sound he made was almost a laugh, almost a groan.
“Tell me to leave,” he said.
“Stay.”
That was all it took.
His mouth found yours hard and sure, no testing peck, no polite first try the kiss of your secret boyfriend who’d been starving himself on almosts. You tasted mint and something darker, felt the solid press of his chest as he walked you backward until your calves hit the bed. His hands framed your jaw, then slid into your hair, tilting you open so he could deepen it. Your fingers fisted in the soft cotton of his shirt. He was warm through it. Real.
“Been thinking about this,” he muttered against your lips, “every fucking flight. Every late night you sat across from me like you weren’t the only thing I could see.”
You pulled the shirt up. He raised his arms, let you strip it off, and the sight of him bare-chested in the half-dark punched the air from your lungs thick shoulders, the cut of muscle along his stomach, the trail of dark hair disappearing into the waistband of his sweats. A scar pale near his ribs. Human. Not a title.
He looked at you looking and something possessive flashed behind his eyes.
“Your turn.”
You lifted your arms. He peeled the sleep shirt over your head slow, deliberate, like unwrapping something he’d paid for in patience. Cool air kissed your skin; his gaze dragged over your breasts, your stomach, the flush already high on your chest. He swore under his breath and bent, mouth hot on the slope of one breast, tongue circling your nipple until it tightened, until your back arched and a sound escaped you that you didn’t recognize.
“Quiet,” he whispered against your skin not unkind, almost fond. “Unless you want Hana asking questions at breakfast.”
The reminder should have cooled you. It didn’t. It made the secret sharper, sweeter. You bit your lip. He smiled against your breast and sucked harder, hand sliding down your stomach into your shorts.
He found you already wet. Two fingers stroked through your folds, slow, gathering slick, and the noise he made then was pure hunger.
“Fuck. For me?”
“For the meeting,” you tried, breathless, and he laughed low against your throat.
“Liar.” His fingers circled your clit with devastating patience. “This is for me. Say it.”
"For you" It broke on a gasp when he pushed one thick finger inside. Then two. Stretching. Curling. Your hips rolled into his hand without permission. He fucked you on his fingers standing there until your thighs shook and you had to clutch his shoulders to stay upright, forehead pressed to his collarbone, breathing him in soap, skin, the faint spice of whatever cologne had survived the shower.
“Bed,” he said. “Now.”
You went. He stripped your shorts and the scrap of underwear beneath in one motion, tossed them aside, and looked at you spread on the white hotel sheets like a man taking inventory of a prize. Then he shoved his sweats down. His cock sprang free, thick and flushed, already hard enough the head glistened. You reached; he caught your wrist, kissed the inside of it, and climbed over you instead.
“If I let you touch me first I’ll come like a teenager,” he said against your mouth. “Been hard since you dismantled their counsel with a single slide.”
You laughed, helpless, and he swallowed the sound with another kiss as he settled between your thighs. The blunt head of him dragged through your wetness, once, twice, notching at your entrance. He held there, eyes locked on yours.
“Yes?”
“Yes. Seungcheol — please”
He pushed in.
Slow. Relentless. The stretch burned sweet, forced a broken moan out of you that he caught with his palm gently over your mouth. His other arm braced beside your head. Inch by inch until his hips met yours and you were full, impossibly full, clenching around the thick length of him while he shuddered above you and swore into the pillow by your ear.
“Tight God, you feel” He pulled back, thrust deep. The bed whispered. Somewhere a pipe ticked in the wall. You wrapped your legs around his waist and met the next stroke, and the one after, until the careful rhythm broke into something hungrier.
He fucked you into the mattress like he’d been saving it. Deep, steady rolls of his hips that dragged over every sensitive place inside you. Your nails scored his back. His mouth found your throat, your jaw, the hinge of it where a bruise might bloom if he wasn’t careful he was careful with his teeth, reckless with everything else. When you got too loud he kissed you quiet. When you bit his shoulder to stay silent he groaned like it hurt in the best way and drove harder.
“Look at me.”
You did. His eyes were dark, almost black in the low light, focused entirely on your face as he ground against your clit on every downstroke. The coil in your belly wound tighter. Tighter.
“Gonna come for me,” he said. Not a question. “Been waiting to feel it. Come on my cock that’s it fuck, just like that”
You shattered. Pleasure ripped through you in hard, shaking waves, cunt pulsing around him, thighs clamped to his sides. He rode you through it, jaw tight, holding his own edge by sheer will until you went soft and oversensitive beneath him. Then he pulled out, flipped you onto your stomach with a strength that made your stomach flip, hauled your hips up, and sank back in from behind in one smooth thrust.
The new angle punched a cry into the pillow. He covered your mouth with his hand again gentle pressure, grounding and fucked you through the aftershocks into a second climb you didn’t think you had. Skin slapped skin. The headboard knocked once against the wall; he stilled, cursed softly, dragged the whole tangle of you farther down the bed away from it, and started again, quieter, deeper, one hand spanning your hip hard enough to bruise.
“Mine tonight,” he breathed against your spine. “Say it.”
“Yours” Ruined. Honest. “Yours, Seungcheol”
He came with a muffled groan into your shoulder, hips stuttering, cock throbbing as he spilled deep inside you in hot pulses. You felt every one. Felt him shake. Felt the way his hand gentled on your hip after, stroking, apologizing for the grip without words.
For a long minute there was only breathing. Sweat cooling. The mess of you joined and trembling.
He eased out carefully. You hissed; he soothed a palm down your back, pressed a kiss between your shoulder blades, and murmured, “Shower. Come on. I’ve got you.”
The bathroom filled with steam again. He adjusted the water too hot, then cooler when you winced, and pulled you under the spray with him like it was the most natural thing in the world CEO and star employee, naked, cum sliding down your inner thigh to rinse away toward the drain.
He washed you. Slow. Reverent in a way that made your throat tight. Soap over your breasts, your stomach, between your legs where he was gentle and thorough and not quite clinical enough to stop the spark from catching again. You returned the favor, hands mapping the planes of his chest, the flex of his arms, the heavy weight of his cock when it stirred back to life under your soapy grip.
“Again?” you whispered, half-teasing, half-desperate.
His smile was wicked and soft at once. “You think once was going to be enough after two years?”
He backed you into the tiled wall. Lifted one of your thighs over his hip with an ease that spoke of gym hours and stubborn discipline. The head of him nudged your entrance slick still, from you, from him and he pushed home in a single smooth glide that made you both groan into each other’s mouths.
This round was slower. Water sheeted over his shoulders and down the groove of his spine. He fucked you against the wall with deep, grinding thrusts, forehead pressed to yours, eyes open. Every so often he’d kiss you like he was trying to memorize the shape of it. Your hands slipped on wet skin. He held you up. When you came the second time it was quieter, a full-body shudder you buried in his neck; he followed soon after, biting down on a curse against your wet hair, pulsing inside you again while the shower beat down around you both.
After, he cleaned you a second time. Towels. Soft hotel cotton. He dried your hair with more care than efficiency deserved. You caught him watching your face in the mirror like he was afraid the steam would clear and you’d disappear.
“Stay,” you said again, softer.
He nodded once. “Until I have to go.”
You slept tangled. His arm heavy over your waist. Your back to his chest. At some point in the night he woke hard and half-asleep and rocked into you slow from behind without fully waking either of you a dream-blur of heat and fullness and his sleepy mouth on your nape and you came soft and confused and sank under again with him still inside.
Morning arrived cruel and bright.
The first thing you registered was the ache between your legs, pleasant and damning. The second was the empty coolness of the sheets where his body had been. The third was Seungcheol standing near the window in yesterday’s sweats, T-shirt twisted in his hands, hair a disaster, looking at you like he’d committed a beautiful crime and wasn’t sure whether to turn himself in.
“Hi,” you croaked.
A flush crawled up his neck. Actual pink. The CEO of a multinational, reduced to shy. “Hi.” He cleared his throat. “I I should get back to my room before anyone’s in the hall. Breakfast briefing’s at eight-thirty.”
You sat up, sheet clutched to your chest, suddenly aware of every mark his mouth might have left. “Right. Of course.”
Silence stretched. Awkward. Tender. He crossed the room, hesitated, then leaned down and kissed you once soft, closed-mouthed, devastatingly sweet after everything filthy he’d done to you in the dark.
“You were extraordinary yesterday,” he said against your lips. “In the meeting. And after. I don’t… I don’t regret this. I need you to know that before the day starts pretending nothing happened.”
Your heart did something stupid and loud. “Neither do I.”
Another beat. He pulled the shirt on, found his key card on the desk where he’d dropped it, and paused at the door with his hand on the latch.
“Walk down separately,” he said, practical again, almost. “I’ll take the stairs to my floor and come up the elevator like I slept there.”
“Paranoid.”
“Careful.” A ghost of a smile. “You’re worth being careful for.”
Then he was gone — a quiet click of the door, footsteps fading fast down the carpeted hall.
You fell back into the pillows and stared at the ceiling, smiling like an idiot, body humming with evidence.
Breakfast was a private dining room on the mezzanine. Company lanyards. Pastries. Too much coffee. You arrived at 8:27 in a fresh blouse buttoned to the throat, hair down to hide whatever might linger on your neck, professional smile locked in place.
Hana was already there. So was Minjae. So was Jisoo from legal, who took one look at you and raised both eyebrows over her latte.
“Rough night?” Jisoo asked lightly. “Walls are thin on eighteen.”
Your stomach dropped. You poured coffee with steady hands that wanted to tremble. “I slept fine.”
“Uh-huh.” Hana’s mouth twitched. “Because someone was definitely not sleeping fine around one a.m. I thought the pipes were fighting.”
Minjae snorted into his juice. “I heard the headboard. Once. Then it stopped. Very considerate headboard.”
Heat flooded your face. You sat, crossed your legs, ignored the sweet ache, and opened your laptop like the quarterly projections might save you. “You’re all hearing things.”
“Sure,” Hana said. “And I’m hearing that the CEO’s room was empty when housekeeping did early turndown checks — Minjae’s cousin works nights — and that he showed up to the gym at six looking like he hadn’t used his own bed.”
As if summoned, Seungcheol walked in.
Pressed shirt. Fresh suit jacket. Hair tamed with product that didn’t quite erase the fact that someone had had their hands in it. A faint shadow under his eyes that could have been strategy fatigue and was not. He carried his tablet, nodded to the table at large, and took the head seat with the same calm authority he’d worn in the client meeting.
Except when his gaze flicked to you — half a second, nothing anyone should have caught — the tips of his ears went pink.
Jisoo made a tiny sound behind her cup.
Hana kicked your ankle under the table. Hard.
You kicked back and smiled at the agenda on the screen as Seungcheol cleared his throat and said, voice admirably even, “Good morning. Outstanding work yesterday, everyone. Especially the close we wouldn’t have landed the terms we did without the sharpest person in that room.” His eyes didn’t linger on you. They didn’t need to. “Let’s walk the next steps before we fly out.”
Professional. Flawless.
Under the table, out of sight of everyone else, his foot found yours and pressed once, deliberate and warm, before he pulled back and opened the floor to logistics.
Hana leaned in while the others scrambled for notes and whispered, wicked and delighted, “Thin walls, Y/N. Thin. Walls.”
You sipped your coffee and said nothing.
Across the table, Choi Seungcheol, CEO, architect of almosts, man who’d sneaked into your room and ruined you on hotel sheets and against shower tile kept his eyes on the agenda and failed, just barely, to hide the smallest private smile.
The contract would close by Friday.
Whatever this was between you had already started quiet, reckless, and entirely too loud for thin hotel walls.
— In which even, after one torturous year from the breakup, martin still doesn’t know how to move on from what you guys once had, the love that he harbours for you still present. He’s desperate to get you back. Thus what better way to catch your attention, then to use a picture of you as his album cover. Though it doesn’t seem like you’re quite too happy about it..
warnings: yearning martin, desperate martin, rude language, inappropriate language, insults, petnames, second hand embarrassment, martin is a lover boy,
