𝒾𝓃 𝓌𝒽𝒾𝒸𝒽... your angel of a boyfriend always respected your wishes and boundaries. but what happens when you feel your resolutions slowly crumble to the ground?
𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝒶𝒾𝓃𝓈... [smut!] teasing, making out, mentions of dry humping, fingering, reader's first time, softdom!gguk × inexperienced!reader, gentle sex, mentions of discomfort during penetration.
⭒blame morpheus for your sins - jeon jungkook
𝒾𝓃 𝓌𝒽𝒾𝒸𝒽... you and jungkook had been attached by the hip since you were little toddlers learning how to live in your own bodies, which led you two to spend most (if not all) of your life together. one weird dream makes your whole view about your bestfriend change. how will you live with that?
𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝒶𝒾𝓃𝓈... [mini-series!] friends to lovers, college au, jungkook is whipped for reader but she's oblivious to it all, descriptions of wet dreams, second-hand embarrassment, learning how to deal with new found feelings, sex and all the good stuff, HEA.
⭒M.P.S (Mission Panty Stealing) - jeon jungkook
𝒾𝓃 𝓌𝒽𝒾𝒸𝒽... "Jungkook had a big problem.
A serious one, too, at that.
He was utterly, desperately obsessed with his roommate.
You."
𝒾𝓃 𝓌𝒽𝒾𝒸𝒽... “I-I’m sorry, I– shit, I don’t–”
“Keep going.”
Two simple words. A command, really.
That’s all it took for Jungkook to let go of all restraint.
𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝒶𝒾𝓃𝓈... masturbation (m&f), getting caught, panty stealing, unprotected sex, kinda switch jk and reader, soft jk at the end
⭒ quiet hour - min yoongi
𝒾𝓃 𝓌𝒽𝒾𝒸𝒽... you wake up in yoongi's hoodie, and he quickly takes notice of it
𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝒶𝒾𝓃𝓈... [fluff! short blurb!] domestic yoongi, early hour soft love
⭒ HANS - In your Hands - jeon jungkook
𝒾𝓃 𝓌𝒽𝒾𝒸𝒽... In a world where every single step is recorded and analysed by cameras, F1 racer Jeon Jungkook could care less about his reputation, deciding that with the amount of money he has he could buy the silence of everybody, if he wished. Behind him, there's a girl losing her mind trying to get him to behave, knowing that her job is at risk if she doesn't cover up his mess-ups in time. What happens when one of the most influential and world recognised racers falls head over heels for his PR manager, who absolutely despises his "I've got it all" attitude and wants nothing more than to keep doing her job in peace?
𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝒶𝒾𝓃𝓈... [series!] Mature themes, including sex, alcohol and substances use and abuse, money bets, life-risking events, yearning, jealousy, flashbacks into the protagonists' pasts, slow burn, use of sex as a form of unhealthy coping mechanism, angst and unresolved past issues. MDNI.
ꭷㅤֺㅤও hello, my loves. welcome to my special masterlist — vani's memories.
so, what exactly is this, and why the name? vani's memories is a collection of oneshots i originally wrote between 2019-2021. each piece has now been carefully rewritten, reedited, and gently improved — a small love letter to my younger self and to you, the reader. this project is my way of giving those old stories a second life, rather than letting them fade into forgotten drafts.
the original versions still exist on my old imagine account on instagram, though i won’t be sharing the handle (we’ve all had our cringe era, and that was mine).
please note: every fic here is a standalone. they’re not connected to one another in plot or universe, and they’re all short reads — each under 5k words.
now, with that said... let’s dive in. ♡
pairing: jungkook x reader — all oneshots
trigger warnings: will be listed in each work
click here to join the taglist for these oneshots
◌⠀⎯⎯͟͟✦⠀ soft in the downpour
↪ summary: He’s not the type to say much — but when Jeon Jungkook sees someone else making you laugh, he doesn’t need words to stake his claim. He just kisses you like his life depends on it. In the pouring rain. And suddenly, silence has never said so much.
— non idol au, cold boyfriend!jungkook x reader
— tropes: light angst, fluff
— word count: to be added
◌⠀⎯⎯͟͟✦⠀ almost was ours
↪ summary: Jeon Jungkook thought marrying your sister would heal the wounds left by losing his high school sweetheart—you. But as the wedding day nears, regrets and memories pull him back to the love he couldn’t hold on to. Can he find happiness when his heart still belongs to you?
— non idol au, ex!boyfriend jungkook x reader
— trope: heavy angst
— word count: to be added
◌⠀⎯⎯͟͟✦⠀ ghost of you
↪ summary: You’re glowing in white, walking toward forever — but your heart still aches for the boy you lost. Jeon Jungkook was the love of your life, taken too soon in a crash that shattered everything you dreamed of. And while you truly love Jimin, his best friend, today is filled with memories — soft, haunting whispers of a forever that never got to be. Because the truth is, you’re marrying one man… while still loving another.
— non idol au, jungkook x reader ft. jimin
— trope: heavy angst
— word count: to be added
◌⠀⎯⎯͟͟✦⠀ whispers between the pages
↪ summary: You’re gone now — the hospital house empty, the room too quiet, the air too still. Jeon Jungkook is left with only memories… and your diary. Page after page, he reads the pieces of you you never said out loud — your fears, your pain, your hope, your love for him. And with every word, he realizes he never really knew how deeply you felt. Death took you from him, but your words break him.
— non idol au, jungkook x reader
— trope: heavy angst
— word count: to be added
◌⠀⎯⎯͟͟✦⠀ ash & honey
↪ summary: Everyone fears Jeon Jungkook — the man who never bends, never breaks. But when you get caught in the crossfire of his world, something in him shatters. For the first time, the king isn’t angry. He’s terrified. And behind closed doors, he shows you the one thing no one else has ever seen: his tears. You thought you knew what it meant to be his — until the night he holds you like it’s the last time.
— non idol au, mafia!bf jungkook x reader
— trope: angst
— word count: to be added
◌⠀⎯⎯͟͟✦⠀ soft echo
↪ summary: It starts with a joke — a harmless tease that tugs just a little too hard on your heart. But Jeon Jungkook sees it instantly, and before you can even look away, he’s holding you like the sky might fall. The rain taps against the windows, slow and gentle, as he kisses you softly, over and over, like he’s apologizing without words. And when you finally make love, it’s slow, safe, and sacred — a quiet afternoon where love sounds like rainfall and reassurance.
— non idol au, bf!jungkook x reader
— tropes: light angst, fluff, (non explicit) smut
— word count: to be added
◌⠀⎯⎯͟͟✦⠀ we meet in paris
↪ summary: He left because it was supposed to be the best for both of you — a shield against the storm of sasaengs and hateful whispers that threatened to tear you apart. You stayed hidden, heartbroken and silent, wondering if he ever really loved you. But fate has always had a way of rewriting endings.
— idol au, jungkook x reader
— tropes: angst, fluff
— word count: to be added
◌⠀⎯⎯͟͟✦⠀ faded horizons
↪ summary: You waited, believed, hoped—while he was gone to war, fighting battles you couldn’t see. But when Jeon Jungkook finally comes back, the world he left behind has changed. You’ve moved on, built a life filled with love, a child, and someone who held you close when he was gone. And now, standing face to face, he has to accept that the home he dreamed of no longer has a place for him.
— non idol au, solider!jungkook x reader, historical au
— tropes: angst
— word count: to be added
◌⠀⎯⎯͟͟✦⠀ still with you
↪ summary: You wake up tangled in warmth, sunlight spilling softly across the room, and his steady breathing next to you. The world feels quiet and safe — a gentle afterglow from a night where everything changed. No words are needed as your fingers find his, and in that quiet moment, you both know this is only the beginning.
— non idol au, cold!boyfriend jungkook x reader
— trope: fluff
— word count: to be added
◌⠀⎯⎯͟͟✦⠀ wrapped in you
↪ summary: The pain hits like a wave — sharp, stubborn, and completely unfair. You curl into yourself, groaning, until gentle hands and doe eyes find you. Jeon Jungkook doesn’t say much at first. He just pulls you into his chest, tucks the blanket around your legs, and holds you like you’re made of something fragile and precious. And suddenly, the pain doesn’t feel quite as heavy anymore.
— non idol au, bf!jungkook x reader
— trope: fluff
— word count: to be added
◌⠀⎯⎯͟͟✦⠀ three words, eight letters
↪ summary: It’s late, the world is quiet, and you're curled up against him — your head on his chest, his fingers tracing lazy shapes on your back. Everything feels still, like the moment’s holding its breath. And then, without warning, Jeon Jungkook whispers it. “I love you.” Just like that. No grand gesture. No buildup. Just warmth, honesty, and the kind of love that sneaks in slowly… and stays.
— non idol au, bf! jungkook x reader
— trope: fluff
— word count: to be added
◌⠀⎯⎯͟͟✦⠀ the cut that alway bleeds
↪ summary: You’re used to emergencies — calm under pressure, steady hands, sharp focus. But nothing prepares you for the moment you see his name on the trauma board. Jeon Jungkook. Your ex. Your almost-forever. Now bloodied, unconscious, and in need of surgery you’re not allowed to perform. So you stand outside the OR, heart racing, praying your colleague can save him — while memories of what you lost cut deeper than any wound ever could.
— non idol su, ex!boyfriend jungkook x reader
— tropes: angst, fluff
— word count: to be added
◌⠀⎯⎯͟͟✦⠀ (un)marked
↪ summary: You always knew he was your soulmate — you felt it in your bones, in the way your heartbeat slowed near his, in the way your skin warmed when he touched you. But Jeon Jungkook didn’t want fate deciding his future. He turned away, leaving you with a bond still burning under your skin. Years later, he feels it too — the echo of what he lost. And now he’s chasing a connection he once begged to break.
— non idol au, soulmate!jungkook x reader au
— tropes: angst, a sprinkle of fluff
— word count: to be added
◌⠀⎯⎯͟͟✦⠀ so far away
↪ summary: You used to be inseparable — laughter in the hallways, late-night secrets, dreams shared like promises. But that was before Jeon Jungkook got famous. Before the world started calling his name louder than you ever could. Now, it’s been years. You watch him from a distance, smile when his face shows up on screens, and wonder if he ever thinks of you… or if you were just another chapter he outgrew.
— idol au, ex best friend!jungkook x reader
— trope: angst
— word count: to be added
+ more coming!
i do not own jeon jungkook, bts, or any real people mentioned in this story. this is a work of fiction created purely for entertainment purposes. all characters, events, and situations are fictional and do not reflect the real lives, personalities, or relationships of the individuals involved. i am not affiliated with bts or big hit/hybe in any way. please read with the understanding that this is just a fan creation and nothing more.
all works published here are created by me (@writesvani on tumblr). i own all rights to my original works, including any written content, original characters, and plotlines. copying, redistributing, translating, or posting my works on any other social media without my explicit permission is strictly prohibited. all rights reserved.
I'm not gonna say much, those who want to understand will do so.
never, and I mean never, put a multi millionaire celebrity over your morals and ethics. NEVER put parasocial relationships over the killing and wiping of innocents.
the moment you start putting money over anything, you become like everybody else.
and we're lucky! cause today, majority of us lead a normal life, with a roof over our head, a warm dish at every eating-hour and education being handed to us.
but we do not know what tomorrow plans for us. and at that point, when we're the one being tortured, that's when we realise that no idol, no celebrity, no politician has ever cared about us.
money run the world, but do not let it run your morals, too.
𝒾𝓃 𝓌𝒽𝒾𝒸𝒽... your angel of a boyfriend always respected your wishes and boundaries. but what happens when you feel your resolutions slowly crumble to the ground?
𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝒶𝒾𝓃𝓈... [smut!] teasing, making out, mentions of dry humping, fingering, reader's first time, softdom!gguk × inexperienced!reader, gentle sex, mentions of discomfort during penetration.
▸ 𝓔𝓷𝓰𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓱 𝓲𝓼 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓶𝔂 𝓯𝓲𝓻𝓼𝓽 𝓵𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓾𝓪𝓰𝓮
▸ 𝔀.𝓬: 2𝓴 +
There were certain things you absolutely loved about your boyfriend, like the way his eyes lit up in excitement when you cooked him his favourite meal, or the way his natural non-toxic masculine energy immediately put you at ease, making you slide into your soft feminine energy naturally. This was probably one of the first things you noticed even before you got together, slowly becoming aware of how well you fit into a balanced dynamic that you both felt comfortable in.
But, most of all, you loved the way he never pushed you to do things you weren't keen on doing, never made you feel like you had to something for him "because he said so", never forced anything. Always treated you so well, so gently, so lovingly. He held you at night tight enough like he was afraid you would slip from his arms, but also so delicately like he was scared he could break you if he made a tiny mistake, the same way glass shatters to the ground if you're not careful enough.
So it shouldn't have been a surprise when you told him you weren't ready to have sex just yet, tears striking down your face in fear he would leave you right then and there, and he didn't even appear to be annoyed by that. If anything, he ran you a warm bubble bath, hugging you from behind while cuddling you and whispering sweet nothings to reassure you that no, he wouldn't leave you for that and yes, he would wait as long as you needed.
"Thank you," you had whispered, sniffling softly as the sobs finally subdued. Jungkook gathered the bubbles in the palm of his hand, blowing them in your face. His expression visibly relaxed as you giggled, wiping the scented bubbles that landed on the tip of your nose.
"Princess, I don't want you to feel pressured about doing anything with me, got that? I could never leave you, I love you too much. Also, your cute little face got me wrapped around your pinky."
A few months had passed from that moment, and he had kept his promise. This doesn’t mean that you never shared moments of intimacy, but rather that you both opted for things that you liked and were comfortable in, like grinding while making out, or giving and receiving oral. And you always felt so at ease, so sure that he would never take advantage of you in any way or form.
But as time went on, you felt your resolutions slowly crumble to the ground: it all started with following him on set, watching mesmerized as he posed for the camera. He was magnificent in his expressions, in his demeanor, in the way he rocked the outfits given by the CK company. He was confident, alluring, his muscles moving in a way that made you feel tingly all over. His eyes caught yours, crouched on the chair behind the camera, trying to be invisible to the eyes of all the professionals that hurriedly walked around you. You watched as a weird glint sparkled in his eyes, his lips curling in a knowing smirk briefly before he snapped back into character, leaving you a flustered, breathless mess. You weren’t entirely sure, but after that it looked like he posed even sexier for the camera, manipulating his body so that it could allure you in the same way a siren’s song allures pirates before devouring them. and god, did it work…
You shifted around uncomfortably, fiddling with your phone, looking around at anything to tear your eyes from your boyfriend, trying to ignore the wetness pooling between your legs. and Jungkook took notice of every effort you made to hide your need, quite amused by it all. Soon after, the director called for the end of the day, screaming loud enough for everyone to hear “good job, guys, see you tomorrow!”, clapping his hands and stopping by the photographer to discuss something about the lightning of some photos.
Jungkook shrugged his shoulders, stretching his body to relax his tensed limbs before making his way to you, chuckling darkly when he noticed you acting like you weren’t paying any attention to him. he leaned over you, trapping you between his arms as his lips hovered your ear. “What's wrong, princess?” he purred, nibbling softly your earlobe. Your breath struck in your throat at his sultry tone, and you prayed he couldn’t hear your heart thrumming in your chest, or your hands shaking by your side. You felt like you were floating in a bubble where nothing mattered aside from his presence, and his musky cologne that clouded your senses and made your head dizzy. You closed your eyes breathing it in, parting your lips slightly to let out a soft breath.
Jungkook hummed pleased at your responsiveness, cupping your jaw with his warm hand. He traced your bottom lip with his thumb, staring at it almost as if hypnotised by his own action, pulling it down softly before murmuring “let’s go home, princess”, a tinge of urgency lacing his words.
The drive home was probably the quickest you’ve ever been in, with Jungkook’s foot slamming the pedal to the ground, one hand grabbing possessively your thigh and fingers touching where you most need him with featherlight pressure. As soon as the car pulled into the driveway Jungkook was quick to pick you up and bring you inside, pushing your back against the door as soon as it closed behind you.
His lips immediately found yours, pulling you into a desperate kiss. He gently pulled your hair at the back of your neck, angling your face better in order to deepen the kiss. You moaned, the sound swallowed by your boyfriend’s lips, hands tugging at his shirt to take it off. Jungkook pulled back slightly, groaning at the sight of your swollen red lips and hooded eyes. “Bedroom?” he asked, throwing his shirt on the ground.
“Yes, please” you whispered, following him around the house as more kissing and more stripping occurred, ending up in the bedroom already half naked and even more worked up than before. You wiggled out of the shirt that covered your chest and your panties-clad bottom, straddling your boyfriend’s lap as he sat against the headboard.
“C’mon, princess, you know what to do” he said, hands holding your thighs firmly while you rocked back and forth, whimpering as his still clothed boner provided the perfect friction against your aching clit. “Want… more,” you cried out, hips rutting desperately. Jungkook’s lips latched on your skin, sucking deep purple spots all over your neck and collarbones. “Yeah?” he asked against your flesh, “what is it that you want, princess?”
Your cheeks burned at the embarrassment, yet it didn’t stop you from whimpering “want you inside me”. You felt your boyfriend’s body tense beneath you, his kissing stopping on the spot. His hand cupped your jaw, keeping you in place as his eyes locked with yours. “What did you say, princess?”
If possible, you felt your whole body catch on fire just from his tone alone, trying to divert your gaze as you repeated shyly “want… want you inside me. Please”. You swore you felt his cock throbbing at your words, his pupils completely blown out in lust. The fingers that held your jaw twitched briefly before he asked “you’re sure, princess?”, struggling to hide the restraint in his voice. You nodded, rocking your hips tentatively to spur him on.
He bit his lip, trying to hold back the smile that threatened to break over his face. He failed at that, though, and a happy giggle escaped his lips as he switched your position, letting you fall on the soft pillows, your back landing on the mattress. He showered your face in excited kisses before he finally calmed down, a serious expression on his face. “Promise you’ll tell me if I'm hurting you or if you want to stop”. You smiled, nodding your head. “Pinky promise”. And just like that he was on you again, reaching a hand behind your back to flick your bra off your chest, sighing in pleasure once he cupped your breast in his hand, gently rolling your nipple between his thumb and pointer finger.
“Always looking so pretty,” he purred, reaching a hand down to unzip his pants, trying to take some pressure off his painfully hard member. He groaned, muttering a small “fuck,” before lowering his head on your torso, kissing his way down all the way to your panties. He pressed a hand on your thigh, keeping you spread over in front of his eyes. He smirked pleased at the wet patch on the baby blue fabric of your thong, rubbing his thumb up and down your clothed slit, then pressing his finger on your clit. “Oh fuck- please, Kook,” you moaned, bucking your hips up to gain some more friction.
“Patience, princess,” he whispered, blowing softly on your clothed sex. You gasped at the feeling, trying to press your thighs back together, but you were stopped by Jungkook’s firm grasp that pinned you to the bed. “How sensitive,” he chuckled, teasingly licking a stripe up the drenched fabric. You whimpered, a string of pleas falling repeatedly from your plush lips as you grew progressively more desperate for more.
“Oh I know, I know, princess,” he cooed, hooking his fingers under the waistband of your panties and pulling them down, throwing them somewhere on the floor. “Gonna make you feel so nice,” he continued, stopping to admire your glistening folds, all wet and leaking just for him. He ran his pointer finger between your folds, gathering your moisture before slowly slipping the finger in.
“Oh-” you gasped, closing your eyes as Jungkook’s finger stroked your walls, curling it just right. “Gonna put another one in,” he murmured, slipping another finger in. A loud moan escaped your lips, spurring your boyfriend to move in quicker and deeper movements, his fingers hitting repeatedly your g-spot almost as if in a quest to let you release as many sounds as possible. Slick sounds and ragged breaths filled the room, your mind clouding into a hazy state. The bands in your stomach threatened to snap at any moment now, your walls fluttering around Jungkook’s fingers.
Said man, of course, wanted to toy with you a little longer before giving you the relief you needed, and that’s why he immediately pulled his fingers out, chucking darkly at your disappointed whines. He slipped the same two fingers in his mouth, moaning around them as your juices dripped on his tongue. “Always taste so good,” he groaned, leaning down to kiss you, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. “Think you’re ready for me, princess?”
You nodded eagerly, though you couldn’t hide the nervousness pricking at the back of your neck. “Can you just… be gentle? Like, a lot? Pretty please”.
“Of course, princess, you don’t even have to ask. We’re gonna take it nice and slow, yeah?” of course there was no doubt that Jungkook already planned on taking it easy with you, nevertheless the confirmation was much needed for you, helping your nerves ease even a tiny bit.
The man sat back on his knees, taking off his pants and briefs in one go. Even though it wasn’t the first time you had seen him completely naked, you couldn’t help but stare at him mesmerised. He was just that good looking, his body built the same way the greeks carved their most beloved statues. Your mouth ran dry at the sight, and your hands itched to explore every inch of flesh.
Jungkook leaned back down, caging your head between his arms. He stroked your cheek lovingly, kissing you softly before asking “Do you want me to put a condom on?”
You shook your head, whispering “I’m still on the pill, it’s fine. Wanna feel you raw”. Your boyfriend closed his eyes at the confession, your desire of feeling him bare both arousing and touching. “Okay,” his hand reached between your bodies, holding his member in a firm grasp as he ran his almost purplish tip over your folds, gathering your wetness.
“Oh god,” you choked out, your walls clenching around nothing. Finally, Jungkook aligned his cock with your entrance, looking at your face one last time before slowly pushing it in, holding you closer to his chest as you gasped in discomfort. “Kook…ngh, wait…”
“I got you, princess,” he cooed, stopping his motion immediately. He stroked your hair, and he didn’t even wince when you bit his bicep to ignore the discomfort between your hips. “‘s alright, love. I promise it’s gonna feel nice really soon, hold tight for me”.
You nodded, taking a shaky breath in before your boyfriend pushed a couple more inches or so inside you, settling deep before he stilled his movements, waiting for you to give him permission to do anything. Despite the uncomfortable sensation, you couldn’t ignore how full you felt and how good it felt to have him nestled inside your walls completely bare, allowing you to feel even the littlest throb. Meanwhile, your angel of a boyfriend did everything in his hold to distract you, from kissing your lips to nibbling your earlobe, wanting you to feel good yet feeling guilty because he couldn’t do anything to let the pain subside faster.
“Mmh- Kook… I think you can move now,” you croaked out, catching Jungkook’s attention. The man whispered a soft “okay,” then locked your lips in a slow and passionate kiss as he began moving, pulling out almost entirely before pushing back in, over and over again. Soon, you whimpers of discomfort turned into moans of pleasure, and Jungkook followed you by example. Noises of skin slapping skin echoed in the bedroom, almost harmonising with your moans and grunts.
“Princess… can I- fuck, can I go faster?” you nodded again, throwing your head against the pillows as Jungkook’s hips picked up their pace, almost snapping against your body. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, jaw hanging low while your boyfriend got drunk on the sight, hissing as he felt himself approaching his orgasm at light’s speed. His hand reached down, toying with your clit to bring you closer to your finish line. However, he almost lost it all when you let out a loud, almost pornographic, moan, your walls sucking him in greedily.
His brows furrowed in concentration, determined to make you cum before he did. “C’mon, princess, give it to me,” he grunted, applying the right pressure to your clit to make you completely unravel under him, whimpering and shaking as your walls fluttered around his dick. “Fuck!” he exclaimed, pulling out just in time to spill his warm milky white cum on your tummy, decorating your skin in ropes of white.
He laid beside you with a huff, scanning your body with his eyes to check that everything was alright. He took a strand of hair falling onto your eyes and lovingly pushed it behind your ear, smiling at you softly as you opened your eyes back. “Doing alright, love?”
You hummed, feeling too weak to mutter out anything. Your body still shook with the aftershocks of your orgasm, and you felt your sensitive sex still pulsing uncomfortably, but overall you felt great, and your mind wasn’t running miles per hour for once.
Jungkook pulled you in closer, wrapping his arms around you, holding you tight. “C’mon, I’ll run us a bath. You’ve been so good, I love you so much, princess.”
so, apparently twitter nation has been saying that CK has called Jungkook again for a photoshoot. except, this time, in full CK style. I'm talking about no clothes, only underwear, pack in full view. if it's true, you bet I'm writing some nasty, dirty, toe curling smut to celebrate. BUT in the meantime I wrote this little something back in february, this one also inspired by the CK shoot😼
THAT NEW PHOTO OF JUNGKOOK’S CHEST TATTOO 😭😭😭😭 i can just imagine this making an appearance in otr because holy moly.
i would give him the most sloppiest, wettest, creamiest, soul taking, slimy, life changing, death dropping, heaven sent, flabbergasting, hypnotizing, heavenly, astonishing, leg trembling, hands desperately grabbing the sheets, legs stretching out again and again, toe curling, voice breaking, whimper causing, waist slowly moving up and down, small heavy breath, "I can't take it much longer" breaths getting quicker, twitching throbbing eyes shut lip biting, back arching, edging begging for relief, warm hot rush bubbling up spit upon spit tongue twisting ground tip-talking against month sideways spit from the end and lick from the bottom to the top then spit from the to and lick to the bottom deepthroating mascara dripping down my face, slower then faster faster than little faster then perfect pace twisting mouth around each side, hands in my hair brutally using my mouth, spiritually enlightening chakra balancing, mangekyo sharingan unlocking, golden light like a halo around the top, noise from the very edge of his throat for the final release head ever. And THEN l'd let him pound me so hard into the bed and use my body as though it doesn't belong to anymore that he literally throws me around and does as he please. I wouldn't argue, I wouldn't raise a word, no sir, not to daddy, absolutely not. He could ruin me, corrupt me, hit me, choke me, tie me up, bite me, I would absolutely encourage everything he does as long as I get a smidge of his attention and love. This man could make me fuck myself on his fingers and I wouldn't argue even if I ended up passing out, he could bruise me up and laugh at me and I would take it just to listen to him praise me. I would take him for 50 rounds in 60 positions cause never back down never what???? NEVER GIVE UP and I am not giving up to screw me till my mind becomes nothing but subservient to him.
LOL!!!!! i wrote a blurb where jungkook fucks you during a workout session 😂😂😂😂😂😂 soooo funny of me 😂😂😂😂 everyone has @httpsincity to blame so come for her not I😂😂😂😂😂
Summary: When a guy ghosts you mid- make out leaving you more needy than sad, you start grinding on the first person that approaches you which leads to oral sex in middle of the club and penetrative on in the bathroom but what happens when you realize that person happened to be your best friend.
Warnings: oral (m. receiving) right on the club floor, public oral sex, semi-public sex, unprotected sex, alcohol involved (both are tipsy, jungkook more in control), yn doesn’t realize it’s jungkook till after the oral, dirty talk + name moaning, fingering / clit play / multiple orgasms, grinding, hair pulling, cum mention, overstimulation / continued touching after climax, desperate pace / intense physicality, best friends to ???
Word Count: 2.8k
A/N: this is my first ff with that much smut and this time i tried without using any tools so please tell me how it was and because chatgpt hasn't proofread it i am a bit uncomfortable uploading it but here it goes hope you like it. And interacting with you guys through comments make my day seriously.
The bass is thumping with people rubbing their bodies with each other on the dance floor, the club smells like sweat, perfume and alcohol everyone is here to have fun so were you. But the asshole with decent hands and zero stamina left mid kiss.
You blinked up at the ceiling, lights spinning over your head like you were underwater, trying to catch a breath that wouldn’t come. Everything buzzed like the floor beneath your heels, your heartbeat in your ears, and most of all, the burn between your thighs. Your lipstick was smudged, one strap of your dress slipping off your shoulder, and your chest was still heaving from the rough kiss you didn’t get to finish.
Pulsing lights cut through smoke-thick air like lightning flashes, illuminating sweat-slick bodies grinding without shame. The bass pounded, thunderous and low, echoing through your bones and shaking through the floorboards like an earthquake. It made everything feel heavier. Slower. Drunker.
Jungkook wasn’t even supposed to be in this part of the club.
He’d only come looking for you after you disappeared from your booth. One minute, you were laughing with a stranger and sipping from someone’s shared cocktail. The next you're gone.
He saw the empty seat. Your clutch still sitting there.
His gut twisted.
Something didn’t feel right.
Especially when you weren’t answering your phone. And because he knew the club swallowed people whole and spit them out half-naked and crying.
He was tipsy but not gone after a whiskey or two. He was still steady and all he could think about was you.
Then he saw you.
Near the edge of the dance floor, half-lit in flashes of red and violet. Hair falling over one eye. Skin dewy from sweat. Mascara you spent 10 minutes applying, smudged. Your dress tugged halfway up your thigh like it was begging for hands you didn’t even care about.
You looked wild.
Not in the cute, playful way.
But in the way that screamed used and abandoned.
Jungkook’s entire body stiffened.
You looked like someone had been kissing you and that someone didn’t stay.
Like someone had left you wanting.
He moved toward you before he could stop himself. Shoving past strangers. Shoulders brushing people he didn’t care about. His only focus was you. And when he reached you, he said your name with concern, while picking you up from the floor.
“Y/N?”
You turned, your eyes met his but didn’t register him.
Not as him.
Not as the man who’s walked you home a hundred nights. The one who held your hair while you puked. The one you fell asleep texting just two nights ago.
You looked at him like he was a stranger.
And it killed him.
Your lips curled into a slow, dizzy smile, and you leaned in.
“Hey…” you murmured, eyes dipping to his mouth. “You came back.”
His brow creased. “Back?”
“You left me,” you whispered, voice drenched in something that wasn’t quite anger, wasn’t quite sadness. Just heat. Wounded heat. “But it’s okay. You’re here now.”
Before he could reply, your hands slid up his chest in slow and warm and intimate way.
Jungkook’s heart stopped.
He swallowed hard, the scent of your perfume wrapping around his head like a noose. He should’ve pulled away. Should’ve said something, anything that snapped you out of this.
But he didn’t.
Because your body was moving.
Your hips rolled forward, grinding into his with an instinctual hunger that sent a violent wave of pleasure straight to his spine. He sucked in a breath, hands instinctively catching your waist as if to steady you or maybe himself.
“Wait,” he rasped. “Y/N… it’s me.”
You giggled in soft and sexy voice, like a drunk confession.
“I figured,” you whispered, breath brushing the shell of his ear. “You feel better than the last guy.”
His blood went cold.
What the fuck.
Your hips pressed forward again, and this time he felt you, the heat between your thighs, soaked through that barely-there dress, grinding against the swelling length in his jeans.
“Y/N,” he grunted, jaw locked. “You’re—fuck, you’re drunk. You don’t know what you’re doing.”
You laughed, breathlessly reckless.
“I know exactly what I’m doing,” you said.
Then you pulled back just far enough to look at him. Eyes glassy, dazed and mischievous.
“I want to moan your name,” you whispered. “Tell me what it is.”
His breath caught.
His conscience screamed.
But his body was weak. Dizzy. Hard. Failing.
“…Jungkook.”
Your lips curled, teasing and sinful.
“No way.” You leaned in again, lips brushing his throat. “I also know a Jungkook.”
He exhaled sharply, whole body stiff.
“He’s my best friend,” you said, voice feather-light. “He’d probably freak the fuck out if he saw me like this…”
Jungkook’s eyes fell shut.
His cock throbbed painfully inside his jeans with you constantly grinding on it.
You were killing him.
Every single nerve in his body was at war, his brain screaming to pull away, his hands locked on your waist like he couldn't afford let his hands stray. He wasn’t sure he could take another second of this, not with your lips ghosting his neck and your body rocking against his like you were fucking him with your clothes still on.
You kept grinding, increasing the intensity with every passing minute, making sure he is as hard as you want him to be.
And then
You dropped.
To your knees.
“Y/N—no—wait—fuck—”
But your fingers were already tugging at his belt, unbuckling it. Clumsy, desperate. Laughing softly to yourself like you couldn’t believe you were doing this.
He looked down and saw you. On your knees. Looking up at him with half-lidded eyes and parted lips like you wanted to worship him.
His heart cracked.
But his cock twitched.
He hated himself for both.
Your hand slipped inside his briefs, and you bit your lip when you wrapped your fingers around him.
“You’re huge,” you whispered. “Poor thing. All tense. You need someone to take care of you.”
You his painfully hard cock out, meeting his eyes briefly before tracing a line from his leaking tip to base, he kept getting harder , painfully aware of every single motion done on his now-erect member.
"Damn, you got a nice cock, wanna suck it for you."
"Y/N- fuck .....wait, you are not in your-"
He couldn’t even finish the sentence.
Because then your mouth was on him with your lips slick, tongue hot and wet as you took him deep, slow, filthy.
Jungkook choked on his own breath.
The pleasure was white-hot. Immediate. Terrifying.
He braced one hand against the wall behind him and the other in your hair, trying not to jerk his hips forward as your lips worked him like you knew exactly how to ruin him.
“God-Y/N-shit,” he gasped.
And then you moaned.
That sound from you, wrapped around his cock and blew every last ounce of resistance straight out of him.
His knees buckled. His head dropped back.
He was going to die right here. On this club floor. With your mouth around him. With your name on his lips and regret already forming in the back of his throat.
You kept going. Greedy. Relentless. Tongue swirling, hand stroking, eyes locked on him like you loved watching him fall apart.
He was so close.
Too close.
“Fuck-Y/N, I’m-” he tried, but it was too late.
His hips jerked. His body seized. His release hit hard, cum spilling down your throat with a ragged moan that tore from his chest like a confession.
You didn’t even flinch. You took it. All of it.
Then you pulled back, breathing heavy, lips red and glistening.
You stood, wiped your mouth.
Smirked.
Like it was nothing.
Like it wasn’t him.
Then, without a warning you took off your underwear, way too needy to care about your surroundings but before you could proceed jungkook dragged you out of there and into the club's bathroom, locking the door and pining you against it, making you come back to your senses.
The color drained from your face as you looked at him " jungkook?"
"Good that you’re in your senses now, because when I fuck you-" his voice dropped, slow and gravelly, a whisper full of promise as his thumb grazed your bottom lip, "-I want you to remember it."
And with that, he crashed his lips into yours.
It wasn’t soft, it was consuming. His hand slipped behind your neck, fingers threading into your hair as he angled your head to deepen the kiss, tongue pressing into your mouth like he had been dying to taste you for years. You didn’t resist. You couldn’t.
Your arms clung to his shoulders, breath caught between your chest and his as he walked you backward. You fisted the back of his shirt, knees weak and head spinning, not from the alcohol, but from the sheer way his mouth claimed yours.
He didn’t break the kiss even as his hand opened the zipper of your skirt. The dim light flickered once before stabilizing, the cracked mirror and stained tiles nothing more than a blur in your periphery. But he pulled away, his lips hovered over yours, breath mingling as his hand planted beside your head.
"Tell me to stop," he said suddenly, voice low but controlled. Eyes searching your face, still stormy but clearer now. He needed this moment, needed to know you were really here with him.
You swallowed hard, chest heaving, lips red and kiss-swollen. You nodded.
His jaw flexed.
And then his mouth was on your neck, dragging teeth and tongue across your pulse like he was trying to memorize it. You tilted your head back with a gasp as his hands roamed, gripping the sides of your thighs and lifting you effortlessly to sit on the edge of the old sink. The porcelain creaked beneath you, but you didn’t care.
All that mattered was the way he looked at you now, his best friend, his weakness, sitting there like a sin he couldn’t stop confessing to.
"You have no idea what you did to me out there," he muttered, lips brushing your collarbone. "Grinding on me like you didn’t even know my name... saying you knew another Jungkook."
You blinked, face flushing.
You. You had said that. You had said that and laughed.
A smirk ghosted over your lips, teasing. “I mean... he was cute.”
His eyes snapped to yours.
"Cute?" His hands gripped your thighs tighter, possessiveness flashing across his face. “You were moaning for me like you were starved, don’t ‘cute’ me now.”
You grinned, biting your bottom lip. He looked so good like this messy hair, flushed skin, pupils blown wide with want. And for once, you didn’t want to play it cool.
You leaned in close, your breath warm against the shell of his ear. “Then shut me up.”
He didn’t need to be told twice.
His knuckles grazed your inner thighs. Your legs parted instinctively for him, greedy for more, for anything. His fingers ran through your folds feeling your slick cunt, and he exhaled sharply.
"Still so wet..." he muttered, half in awe, half in hunger. "You were really gonna let a stranger fuck you like this?"
You opened your mouth to say something cheeky, probably but all that came out was a moan when he plunged two fingers inside your pussy.
"Fuck-Jungkook-"
He pumped them slowly, curling them just right. His free hand wrapped his own hard cock to relieve the pain a bit, as he pumped himself. “Say it again,” he whispered.
"Jungkook.”
"Louder."
"Jungkook."
His thumb found your clit, rubbing it in perfect rhythm to his thrusting fingers, and your body jerked, back arching. His lips crushed into yours again, swallowing the broken whimpers that spilled out of you.
“This time,” he said between kisses, “you’ll remember who made you come like this.”
His fingers curled deeper inside you, slick and warm, moving with a deliberate slowness that made your senses sharpen, every nerve ending alight. The rough edge of his thumb traced small circles on your clit, coaxing out every shudder, every desperate breath that escaped your lips.
You clung to him, skin hot against his, as his mouth found yours in hunger, claiming, but gentler this time, like he was trying to memorize your taste and reassure himself you were really here, really his.
He took his own cock pressing the tip in you, just the tip, barely there, his fingers doing all the work.
“Tell me if it’s too much,” he whispered against your mouth, voice raw but careful.
You shook your head, unable to speak. Your body was melting, trembling on the edge, completely his.
His fingers pumped faster, teasing your walls, curling perfectly inside, and you gasped, arching into his hand, the warmth pooling deep and fierce.
“Fuck, Y/N,” he groaned, voice thick with need. “You’re so fucking tight.”
Your hands gripped his arms, grounding yourself as wave after wave of pleasure crashed through you. Your legs tightened around his waist, clutching, begging, pulling him closer as you neared the edge.
He kissed down your jaw, down your neck, biting softly as his fingers never stopped moving. The wet sound of his skin against yours, your muffled moans blending with the distant bass from the club, it all wrapped around you like a dangerous lullaby.
"Shit- Jungkook,....I am -fuck"
"Let go Y/N, cum"
When you came, it was sudden and shattering, a shudder that rattled through your whole body, nails digging into his arms, breath coming in ragged gasps. Jungkook held you steady, lips capturing every broken moan.
You sagged against him, trembling, the warmth of your release still blooming between your legs.
He didn’t let you rest.
His hands slid down your thighs, sliding between your legs, and you swallowed hard as he aligned himself at your entrance, warm and hard, the tip teasing, pressing.
“Ready?” His voice was a rough whisper, edged with need and caution.
You nodded, unable to find words, your eyes locked on his as he pushed inside you slowly, inch by inch. The tight heat wrapped around him like a glove, and a sharp gasp tore from your throat.
He stayed still for a moment, letting you adjust, hands sliding up to cup your face, thumb brushing your cheek tenderly.
Then, he began to move slowly, deep thrusts that sent sparks racing through every inch of your skin. The scent of him filled your senses and your body responded like it had been waiting for this forever.
“Fuck, Y/N,” he groaned, his breath hot against your temple. “You feel like home.”
Your nails dug into his back, lips parted, breath shaky.
The sounds you made, the wet, slick noises of skin meeting skin, the ragged rhythm of your gasps and his groans filled the small bathroom like a secret only the two of you knew.
He kissed you fiercely, neck to mouth, teeth grazing, claiming.
“You’re mine,” he breathed against your lips, the possessiveness thick in his voice.
You whimpered, the walls tightening around him, your bodies moving in perfect, desperate sync.
"Y/N…” he groaned, voice thick and raw, eyes darkening with want as he watched you. The way your body arched, the desperate way you held onto him, it tore at something deep inside him.
You bit your lip, cheeks flushed as waves of pleasure crashed through you, rolling higher and higher until you shattered, fingertips trembling as you came hard, warm, and wild, your body trembling against his.
You stilled for a heartbeat, trembling with the aftershocks of your climax but Jungkook’s body wasn’t done yet.
Jungkook’s thrusts grew more erratic, hips twitching inside you with a trembling urgency that sent sharp jolts through both your bodies. Every twitch was like a spark, igniting a fire that scorched through your core and made your breath hitch uncontrollably.
His grip on your hips tightened, knuckles whitening as he fought to hold himself together, but the way your walls clenched around him, so warm and tight, was breaking every barrier he’d tried to keep.
His head fell back, mouth open in a guttural groan, eyes fluttering shut as his muscles spasmed with every involuntary twitch.
You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him close, feeling the wild pulse of his need against your skin.
“Jungkook...” you whispered, voice shaky but steady, urging him on.
He didn’t need any more encouragement.
With a sudden, desperate surge, his hips snapped forward, and his body shuddered violently as he spilled inside you, the heat of his release flooding you in waves that left you both gasping and trembling.
Your bodies stayed pressed tight, hearts pounding in unison as the storm of pleasure crashed over you, fierce, consuming, and utterly undeniable.
He kissed you again, slow and deep this time. As if that changed anything. As if it made what you were doing any less destructive.
But you didn’t stop him. Not even when he picked up the pace again. Not even when he whispered your name like it meant something more now.
In a world where every single step is recorded and analysed by cameras, F1 racer Jeon Jungkook could care less about his reputation, having decided that with the amount of money he has he could buy the silence of everybody, if he wished.
Behind him, there's a girl losing her mind trying to get him to behave, knowing that her job is at risk if she doesn't cover up his mess-ups in time.
What happens when one of the most influential and world recognised racers falls head over heels for his PR manager, who absolutely despises his "I've got it all" attitude and wants nothing more than to keep doing her job in peace?
WARNING: a shit ton of smut but I doubt you will like this one. anyway, grinding, making out, semi-public spaces, self reflection regarding the use of sex and women as coping mechanism.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: my loves. hi. i'm in a terrible fucking mood, so i was like "i will post chapter 4 and gain serotonin from interactions and praise", cause that's who i am, a slut for approval. anyway, regarding this chapter: it isn't pretty, or, at least, it's not meant to be. it is filled with filth, but i ask you to see between the lines, to overanalyse things that seem completely normal, interactions, words, thoughts. they're spiraling, both of them, gradually getting weaker as we speak. so yes, this chapter is 90% smut, but it's also much more than that. enjoy.
3:30 a.m.
An ungodly hour to wake up to, but the perfect one to commit sins that get blown away by the deep night’s breeze.
The whole team had to leave the hotel at 5, but you had woken up a couple hours earlier to shower and put away all your remaining belongings in your suitcases.
Everything changed once you had heard the little screen outside your door beep multiple times, Taehyung appearing like he had done earlier that day.
“Hey,” his voice came as a low murmur, respecting the early hour and your need of silence when just woken up. He dragged his suitcases in, closing the door behind him with a soft click. He squinted his eyes as the blinding lights flooded his eyes, quickly heading towards the light button to turn the ambience lights on instead. Lights dimmed, body still warm from your shower, you had to fight the urge to curl up on the bed and sleep even more.
“What are you doing here?” you asked, letting the steam from the bathroom curl and unfold all around you as you stood by the door, a fuzzy warm towel wrapped around you. Taehyung smiled softly at you, closing up the space that divided you two by wrapping his arms around your waist.
You gasped, your whole body going tense before Taehyung guided you to the nearest wall, humming as his nose traced the curve of your neck, the shape of your collarbones, the dip of your shoulder. “We got interrupted earlier. I figured it would benefit us both taking advantage of this time when everyone’s sleeping and we’ve got a nice, private room to ourselves.”
Taehyung’s hands traveled to your hips, dragging up the fabric wrapped around you before letting it fall back to its place. “But say the word and I won’t push any further, I’ll just help you pack everything left to pack. Your choice, Vel.”
You wanted to cry.
Actually cry.
Because he was offering something you knew you wanted and needed, something that you had been dragging for far too long for your own wellbeing. And if the little encounter in the pool wasn’t a sign of your resolutions crumbling to the ground, this one was definitely gonna be. But at the same time…
“Okay,” you whispered. Quick, hurried, almost imperceptible even to your own ears, your voice coming back to you as the one of someone else entirely. But to Taehyung, your “okay” had sounded loud and clear.
His cock twitched in his sweatpants, and a whole celebration party was happening in his head. Outside, though, he was like you had always remembered him being: calm, composed, confident. A small smirk had taken place on his lips as the realisation that he was gonna have you back in his arms after years had dawned on him.
His lips hovered over yours, brushing ever so slightly. “Are we still on the no-kissing rule?” he asked, his voice accidentally coming out more restrained than he had intended to show.
“Fuck that rule,” you murmured, and in a second his lips were on yours desperate, raw, aching for something only you could give him. You tilted your head back, allowing him to deepen the kiss, his hands finding home at the sides of your face.
If you had known that Taehyung kisses like he’s desperate for air sooner, you would have given him the go already back in college.
"Tae—" you moaned softly, throwing your head back to the wall with a dull thump.
Taehyung groaned, a desperate "oh fuck" leaving his mouth before he latched his lips on your neck, letting his hands explore your body as he best pleased. He pressed his knee between your legs, applying pressure until you gave him space to slip his leg in.
Your breath hitched, hands grabbing his shoulders through the soft material of his sweatshirt to anchor yourself. Taehyung's knee rubbed back and forth slowly, drawing out moans and whimpers and cries out of your mouth, your body going completely lax under his touch. You felt yourself clench around nothing as he pressed his painfully hard cock to your thigh, soaking what was of the towel and pants that were touching your scorching hot skin.
Taehyung's fingers clenched around the towel, letting it fall open with a single tug. "Shit, please," he moaned to no one in particular, hooking one hand under your leg and bringing it around his waist. His hips ground against yours, rolling in a painfully slow rhythm.
Frustration built quickly inside you. You needed more, anything more. Your face scrunched in what was a mix of pain and pleasure, stuttered breaths and broken moans the only sounds echoing in the quiet of the night.
"Tae, Tae... fuck– get on the bed, now."
Nodding, the brunette didn't wait any longer to follow your instruction, dragging you with him. He laid on the bed, sprawled like it was his— but it didn't matter, not when your only thought was getting on top of him and finally get the friction you needed, not even when you noticed the clearly wet mess your needy body had left on his black sweats.
You couldn't help but let out a loud cry as pleasure finally spiked in your body, soon muffled by Taehyung's fingers slipping in your mouth. "I fucking love your sounds Vel, but we can't risk anything now."
Drool seeped from his fingers as you sucked them, sometimes your mouth going completely lax as a particular pleasurable wave overcame you and left you shaking in need.
"Vel," groaned Taehyung, his eyes pleading. "You're gonna make me cum if you keep going like this." Leaning with your hands on his toned chest, you let your hips grind deliberately free now, watching with heavy eyelids as Taehyung had to bite his lip in order to contain his sounds, making the plump flesh of his lips bleed.
"Shit, fuck it," he moaned, and in a second his hands were on your hips, guiding them to rock rhythmically while he thrusted his hips up in sync with yours, his cock throbbing as it leaked more and more sticky precum that covered his thighs and abdomen.
One hand reached for the back of your head, pushing you flush against his body to attack your lips again, tongues dancing together in a kiss that was everything but romantic — messy, bruising, desperate, your mouths swallowing the sounds of the other as you both finally tipped over the edge, shaking and crying out in pure bliss.
Whimpering, you pulled back from the kiss, leaning your forehead on Taehyung's who was still recovering from his own orgasm, his breath coming out in irregular puffs every now and then.
His hands sneaked around your waist, hugging you close to his warm body. You basked into his warmth, trying to calm down the shivers running down your body.
After a moment, when both of you seemed to be a little calmer, Taehyung asked "You alright, Vel?", his hands grabbing the hem of his sweatshirt and pulling it off him, then ever so gently helping you wear it.
You nodded, feeling your body relax and melt onto the comfy bed and the warm sweatshirt that smelled of coffee, your eyes dropping closed as you slowly drifted off to sleep.
"I'll pack the rest of your things, you can rest," were the last words you heard before you shut down completely, letting the comforting smell lull you to dreamland.
4.47 a.m.
Taehyung’s hand laid protectively on your lower back, warmth radiating from his freshly showered body. He nudged you outside your room, his hand an everlasting presence even when he dragged all your suitcases out the door and locked it shut.
A few doors down the hallway another door opened. There, Jeon Jungkook walked outside his hotel room with a couple of suitcases, the rest of them probably already in the lobby waiting for him. His eyes lit up as he spotted you, but they quickly flickered to your lower back, where Taehyung’s hand was still laying comfortably. It was only for a second, really, the movement of his eyes almost imperceptible, just long enough to let his brain register what he had seen, and then they flickered back up again.
He stood there for a moment, locked in place as he watched your fingers wrap around Taehyung’s wrist, squeezing for a brief second to signal him to let go, all while trying to cover it up by wrapping your hand around the handle of one of your suitcases and dragging it towards the doors of the elevator that opened as soon as you had hit the call button.
“Wait– Y/N!”
Jungkook watched frozen in place as you blatantly ignored him, not even sparing him a glance as you got inside with Taehyung and let the doors close. Right in his face.
His stomach clenched in something he could describe only as a mixture of guilt and… anger. Yes, he had fucked up, he shouldn’t have had dismissed your words as something futile, but he was willing to talk it out. And what did you do? Ignore him. Even when you said that you would speak to him after your appointment with the physio you didn’t, and if he was left to feel like shit it was only your fault.
Not his, never his.
7.28 a.m.
“Quiet, they’re looking for me.”
Jungkook knew that what he was doing wasn’t morally right: not only because having sex was his way of not thinking about things that bothered him – in this case, the blatant way you had been avoiding him for the last 24 hours – but also because he had no fucking clue of what the blonde’s name was. And to top it all, they were hidden inside a “STAFF ONLY” room of the airport, probably filled with cameras, too.
He didn’t care, not as much as he was sure he would once the horny frenzy left his brain, leaving him to rethink all the life choices that led him to this very moment. Right now, all he could focus on was the bruising grip he had on the girl’s hips, guiding her body to meet his thrusts halfway, grabbing a fistful of her flesh as a warning when she got too vocal. He didn’t want to get caught, understandably so. More importantly, he didn’t want to get caught by you. This had to be his dirty little secret, a self indulgent sin that existed only in the moment to just drown out the voices screaming inside his head.
Jungkook looked at the girl once – hands against the door, her cheek flush against the painted surface, lean body begging for more. Her thick, long hair bounced back with every thrust, every now and then covering what was visible of her already half hidden face.
Jungkook didn’t do face-to-face positions, especially not with casual hookups he randomly met. They were too intimate, too raw, too real. Definitely not something he would want with some random model or actress or anyone of that sort.
But this? Having them splayed against a surface, face hidden away from him? This was optimal: no random eye contact, no intimacy, no real people connecting through their actions. Just his body and the girl’s body. Nothing else, nothing more. This was safe.
The girl whimpered softly, eyes fluttering shut. Jungkook groaned as she squeezed him tight, clearly losing a battle against her own body that was tightly tensed in anticipation.
“Want me to touch you?” he rasped, his hand already traveling to her inner thigh. The girl shook her head no, moaning a weak “No need to, I can cum like this.”
Jungkook hummed, slipping his hand between her shoulder blades, pushing her body flush against the door. He hummed satisfied as the girl immediately complied, his hand leaving her body to land on the door, right beside hers, the new angle allowing him to push himself deeper and deeper, until each thrust had him buried to the hilt.
His brows furrowed, lips shut tight in concentration as every muscle in his body locked up. Just a little more, a little more, a little—
Jungkook shuddered, a breathy moan escaping his lips as he came, head thrown back in relief. He stayed like that for a couple seconds, letting his body come back from the… high? Well, kinda. Normally he would feel differently: more relaxed, more blissful, more satisfied.
But right now? None of those could describe the mediocrity of what he was feeling. Instead, he was left feeling a huge amount of relief. Sexual relief? Probably, but it almost felt like he was relieved that it had ended.
For the first time, Jeon Jungkook truly felt like he had just emptied his body almost in a mechanical way, just like anyone would feel when emptying their bladder, for example: it was something almost robotic, totally indifferent to the human sphere of emotions, an action done just because it has to happen in order to function correctly.
Fuck, maybe you were right.
His throat closed up, forcing Jungkook to cough to try and lessen the knot that had formed. No, you couldn’t be right. There had to be another explanation. Right?
Of course, of course there had to be one. Jungkook was awfully quiet as he pulled his pants up, fixing his appearance to appear as normal as possible. He gave the girl another look. There had to be something that subconsciously set him off wrong. There had to be.
Only… he couldn’t find what. Objectively speaking, she was hot, and her voice wasn’t annoying nor were her moans fake. She wasn’t too much work, and she seemed to be completely aware that all they had was a quickie, nothing more nothing less, that it probably wouldn’t happen again and that she couldn’t talk about it with anyone.
Truth to be told, she was the perfect hookup partner, probably the best he had had in months.
So, what was wrong exactly…
He sighed, a bitter taste filling his mouth, much like uneasiness had filled his whole system.
Before he left, he muttered a polite “Thank you,” then crossed the threshold and never looked back again.
In a world where every single step is recorded and analysed by cameras, F1 racer Jeon Jungkook could care less about his reputation, having decided that with the amount of money he has he could buy the silence of everybody, if he wished.
Behind him, there's a girl losing her mind trying to get him to behave, knowing that her job is at risk if she doesn't cover up his mess-ups in time.
What happens when one of the most influential and world recognised racers falls head over heels for his PR manager, who absolutely despises his "I've got it all" attitude and wants nothing more than to keep doing her job in peace?
WARNING: a shit ton of smut but I doubt you will like this one. anyway, grinding, making out, semi-public spaces, self reflection regarding the use of sex and women as coping mechanism.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: my loves. hi. i'm in a terrible fucking mood, so i was like "i will post chapter 4 and gain serotonin from interactions and praise", cause that's who i am, a slut for approval. anyway, regarding this chapter: it isn't pretty, or, at least, it's not meant to be. it is filled with filth, but i ask you to see between the lines, to overanalyse things that seem completely normal, interactions, words, thoughts. they're spiraling, both of them, gradually getting weaker as we speak. so yes, this chapter is 90% smut, but it's also much more than that. enjoy.
3:30 a.m.
An ungodly hour to wake up to, but the perfect one to commit sins that get blown away by the deep night’s breeze.
The whole team had to leave the hotel at 5, but you had woken up a couple hours earlier to shower and put away all your remaining belongings in your suitcases.
Everything changed once you had heard the little screen outside your door beep multiple times, Taehyung appearing like he had done earlier that day.
“Hey,” his voice came as a low murmur, respecting the early hour and your need of silence when just woken up. He dragged his suitcases in, closing the door behind him with a soft click. He squinted his eyes as the blinding lights flooded his eyes, quickly heading towards the light button to turn the ambience lights on instead. Lights dimmed, body still warm from your shower, you had to fight the urge to curl up on the bed and sleep even more.
“What are you doing here?” you asked, letting the steam from the bathroom curl and unfold all around you as you stood by the door, a fuzzy warm towel wrapped around you. Taehyung smiled softly at you, closing up the space that divided you two by wrapping his arms around your waist.
You gasped, your whole body going tense before Taehyung guided you to the nearest wall, humming as his nose traced the curve of your neck, the shape of your collarbones, the dip of your shoulder. “We got interrupted earlier. I figured it would benefit us both taking advantage of this time when everyone’s sleeping and we’ve got a nice, private room to ourselves.”
Taehyung’s hands traveled to your hips, dragging up the fabric wrapped around you before letting it fall back to its place. “But say the word and I won’t push any further, I’ll just help you pack everything left to pack. Your choice, Vel.”
You wanted to cry.
Actually cry.
Because he was offering something you knew you wanted and needed, something that you had been dragging for far too long for your own wellbeing. And if the little encounter in the pool wasn’t a sign of your resolutions crumbling to the ground, this one was definitely gonna be. But at the same time…
“Okay,” you whispered. Quick, hurried, almost imperceptible even to your own ears, your voice coming back to you as the one of someone else entirely. But to Taehyung, your “okay” had sounded loud and clear.
His cock twitched in his sweatpants, and a whole celebration party was happening in his head. Outside, though, he was like you had always remembered him being: calm, composed, confident. A small smirk had taken place on his lips as the realisation that he was gonna have you back in his arms after years had dawned on him.
His lips hovered over yours, brushing ever so slightly. “Are we still on the no-kissing rule?” he asked, his voice accidentally coming out more restrained than he had intended to show.
“Fuck that rule,” you murmured, and in a second his lips were on yours desperate, raw, aching for something only you could give him. You tilted your head back, allowing him to deepen the kiss, his hands finding home at the sides of your face.
If you had known that Taehyung kisses like he’s desperate for air sooner, you would have given him the go already back in college.
"Tae—" you moaned softly, throwing your head back to the wall with a dull thump.
Taehyung groaned, a desperate "oh fuck" leaving his mouth before he latched his lips on your neck, letting his hands explore your body as he best pleased. He pressed his knee between your legs, applying pressure until you gave him space to slip his leg in.
Your breath hitched, hands grabbing his shoulders through the soft material of his sweatshirt to anchor yourself. Taehyung's knee rubbed back and forth slowly, drawing out moans and whimpers and cries out of your mouth, your body going completely lax under his touch. You felt yourself clench around nothing as he pressed his painfully hard cock to your thigh, soaking what was of the towel and pants that were touching your scorching hot skin.
Taehyung's fingers clenched around the towel, letting it fall open with a single tug. "Shit, please," he moaned to no one in particular, hooking one hand under your leg and bringing it around his waist. His hips ground against yours, rolling in a painfully slow rhythm.
Frustration built quickly inside you. You needed more, anything more. Your face scrunched in what was a mix of pain and pleasure, stuttered breaths and broken moans the only sounds echoing in the quiet of the night.
"Tae, Tae... fuck– get on the bed, now."
Nodding, the brunette didn't wait any longer to follow your instruction, dragging you with him. He laid on the bed, sprawled like it was his— but it didn't matter, not when your only thought was getting on top of him and finally get the friction you needed, not even when you noticed the clearly wet mess your needy body had left on his black sweats.
You couldn't help but let out a loud cry as pleasure finally spiked in your body, soon muffled by Taehyung's fingers slipping in your mouth. "I fucking love your sounds Vel, but we can't risk anything now."
Drool seeped from his fingers as you sucked them, sometimes your mouth going completely lax as a particular pleasurable wave overcame you and left you shaking in need.
"Vel," groaned Taehyung, his eyes pleading. "You're gonna make me cum if you keep going like this." Leaning with your hands on his toned chest, you let your hips grind deliberately free now, watching with heavy eyelids as Taehyung had to bite his lip in order to contain his sounds, making the plump flesh of his lips bleed.
"Shit, fuck it," he moaned, and in a second his hands were on your hips, guiding them to rock rhythmically while he thrusted his hips up in sync with yours, his cock throbbing as it leaked more and more sticky precum that covered his thighs and abdomen.
One hand reached for the back of your head, pushing you flush against his body to attack your lips again, tongues dancing together in a kiss that was everything but romantic — messy, bruising, desperate, your mouths swallowing the sounds of the other as you both finally tipped over the edge, shaking and crying out in pure bliss.
Whimpering, you pulled back from the kiss, leaning your forehead on Taehyung's who was still recovering from his own orgasm, his breath coming out in irregular puffs every now and then.
His hands sneaked around your waist, hugging you close to his warm body. You basked into his warmth, trying to calm down the shivers running down your body.
After a moment, when both of you seemed to be a little calmer, Taehyung asked "You alright, Vel?", his hands grabbing the hem of his sweatshirt and pulling it off him, then ever so gently helping you wear it.
You nodded, feeling your body relax and melt onto the comfy bed and the warm sweatshirt that smelled of coffee, your eyes dropping closed as you slowly drifted off to sleep.
"I'll pack the rest of your things, you can rest," were the last words you heard before you shut down completely, letting the comforting smell lull you to dreamland.
4.47 a.m.
Taehyung’s hand laid protectively on your lower back, warmth radiating from his freshly showered body. He nudged you outside your room, his hand an everlasting presence even when he dragged all your suitcases out the door and locked it shut.
A few doors down the hallway another door opened. There, Jeon Jungkook walked outside his hotel room with a couple of suitcases, the rest of them probably already in the lobby waiting for him. His eyes lit up as he spotted you, but they quickly flickered to your lower back, where Taehyung’s hand was still laying comfortably. It was only for a second, really, the movement of his eyes almost imperceptible, just long enough to let his brain register what he had seen, and then they flickered back up again.
He stood there for a moment, locked in place as he watched your fingers wrap around Taehyung’s wrist, squeezing for a brief second to signal him to let go, all while trying to cover it up by wrapping your hand around the handle of one of your suitcases and dragging it towards the doors of the elevator that opened as soon as you had hit the call button.
“Wait– Y/N!”
Jungkook watched frozen in place as you blatantly ignored him, not even sparing him a glance as you got inside with Taehyung and let the doors close. Right in his face.
His stomach clenched in something he could describe only as a mixture of guilt and… anger. Yes, he had fucked up, he shouldn’t have had dismissed your words as something futile, but he was willing to talk it out. And what did you do? Ignore him. Even when you said that you would speak to him after your appointment with the physio you didn’t, and if he was left to feel like shit it was only your fault.
Not his, never his.
7.28 a.m.
“Quiet, they’re looking for me.”
Jungkook knew that what he was doing wasn’t morally right: not only because having sex was his way of not thinking about things that bothered him – in this case, the blatant way you had been avoiding him for the last 24 hours – but also because he had no fucking clue of what the blonde’s name was. And to top it all, they were hidden inside a “STAFF ONLY” room of the airport, probably filled with cameras, too.
He didn’t care, not as much as he was sure he would once the horny frenzy left his brain, leaving him to rethink all the life choices that led him to this very moment. Right now, all he could focus on was the bruising grip he had on the girl’s hips, guiding her body to meet his thrusts halfway, grabbing a fistful of her flesh as a warning when she got too vocal. He didn’t want to get caught, understandably so. More importantly, he didn’t want to get caught by you. This had to be his dirty little secret, a self indulgent sin that existed only in the moment to just drown out the voices screaming inside his head.
Jungkook looked at the girl once – hands against the door, her cheek flush against the painted surface, lean body begging for more. Her thick, long hair bounced back with every thrust, every now and then covering what was visible of her already half hidden face.
Jungkook didn’t do face-to-face positions, especially not with casual hookups he randomly met. They were too intimate, too raw, too real. Definitely not something he would want with some random model or actress or anyone of that sort.
But this? Having them splayed against a surface, face hidden away from him? This was optimal: no random eye contact, no intimacy, no real people connecting through their actions. Just his body and the girl’s body. Nothing else, nothing more. This was safe.
The girl whimpered softly, eyes fluttering shut. Jungkook groaned as she squeezed him tight, clearly losing a battle against her own body that was tightly tensed in anticipation.
“Want me to touch you?” he rasped, his hand already traveling to her inner thigh. The girl shook her head no, moaning a weak “No need to, I can cum like this.”
Jungkook hummed, slipping his hand between her shoulder blades, pushing her body flush against the door. He hummed satisfied as the girl immediately complied, his hand leaving her body to land on the door, right beside hers, the new angle allowing him to push himself deeper and deeper, until each thrust had him buried to the hilt.
His brows furrowed, lips shut tight in concentration as every muscle in his body locked up. Just a little more, a little more, a little—
Jungkook shuddered, a breathy moan escaping his lips as he came, head thrown back in relief. He stayed like that for a couple seconds, letting his body come back from the… high? Well, kinda. Normally he would feel differently: more relaxed, more blissful, more satisfied.
But right now? None of those could describe the mediocrity of what he was feeling. Instead, he was left feeling a huge amount of relief. Sexual relief? Probably, but it almost felt like he was relieved that it had ended.
For the first time, Jeon Jungkook truly felt like he had just emptied his body almost in a mechanical way, just like anyone would feel when emptying their bladder, for example: it was something almost robotic, totally indifferent to the human sphere of emotions, an action done just because it has to happen in order to function correctly.
Fuck, maybe you were right.
His throat closed up, forcing Jungkook to cough to try and lessen the knot that had formed. No, you couldn’t be right. There had to be another explanation. Right?
Of course, of course there had to be one. Jungkook was awfully quiet as he pulled his pants up, fixing his appearance to appear as normal as possible. He gave the girl another look. There had to be something that subconsciously set him off wrong. There had to be.
Only… he couldn’t find what. Objectively speaking, she was hot, and her voice wasn’t annoying nor were her moans fake. She wasn’t too much work, and she seemed to be completely aware that all they had was a quickie, nothing more nothing less, that it probably wouldn’t happen again and that she couldn’t talk about it with anyone.
Truth to be told, she was the perfect hookup partner, probably the best he had had in months.
So, what was wrong exactly…
He sighed, a bitter taste filling his mouth, much like uneasiness had filled his whole system.
Before he left, he muttered a polite “Thank you,” then crossed the threshold and never looked back again.
once HANS and BMFYS are done I need to sit the fuck down, breathe and then write some good, low-effort works where the mmc and oc are already happily in love and I can just write about them being all lovely dovey (?) and shit like that cause my writing battery needs to RECHARGEEEE
once HANS and BMFYS are done I need to sit the fuck down, breathe and then write some good, low-effort works where the mmc and oc are already happily in love and I can just write about them being all lovely dovey (?) and shit like that cause my writing battery needs to RECHARGEEEE
warnings ; oral (f recieving), he hits it from the back, hair pulling, blue collar dick🚨🚨
prompt ; in which your landlord sends an electrician to fix your power, and you end up learning firsthand the magic of blue collar dick.
note ; if you are reading this.. this is a queue’d post while im in MEXICO!!!!! you horny little sluts really thought i would leave you alone for 5 days.. i would never. i figured — hey if i can’t post part 5 of tpod i can at least give a life lesson on blue collar dick, right? backstory here is that the other day my best friend and i had a conversation about our sexy ass landlord and that got me thinking… jungkook..? blue collar..? big dick..? so anyways this is the product of that convo! (and also a standalone one shot bc yall be loving these!)
Later, when someone asks you to recap this story, you’ll say that in your defense, you weren’t expecting the electrician to look like he walked straight off some cringy Pornhub set. You’ll say you just wanted your electricity fixed, not to be spiritually humbled by a man who smells like sawdust and pine.
Your apartment is the kind of place that builds character. And by character, you mean mild trauma.
The kitchen light flickers like it’s been possessed since the day you moved in. The ceiling creaks when your upstairs neighbor sneezes. Your shower only has two settings (arctic and molten lava). There’s a weird stain on the ceiling you’ve been ignoring for three months. And today, of all days, the universe decided to cut the last thread holding your sanity together: the power.
No lights. No working outlets. No WiFi. Which means you’re sitting on your couch, in a hoodie and shorts, trying to hotspot your laptop with 3% battery left while rage-texting your landlord like you’re filing an official grievance with Satan himself.
You immediately text your landlord, fully expecting a five-day delay and a $30 deduction off your next rent.
You: hi. respectfully. what the FUCK is happening?
You: i work from home. i pay rent. i have needs. pls fix ASAP.
He replies five minutes later like he’s doing you a personal favor.
Landlord: sending my guy over. 15 mins.
Your landlord is somehow both your greatest nemesis and your weirdest emotional support system. He’ll ignore three maintenance requests, ghost you for a week, then show up unannounced with a half-eaten bag of Hot Cheetos. You’ve threatened to sue him in writing and sent him a happy birthday meme in the same month. And you’re already halfway into a mental spiral about “his guy” being a 60-year-old with pants that don’t stay up and opinions about the current political climate when there’s a knock at your door.
You swing the door open, fully expecting to see a crusty old man with a clipboard and a wheeze, and instead, you see… (and you’ll remember this moment until the day you die.)
Lip ring. Tattoo sleeve. Tool belt slung low over cargo pants. A black tee stretched across broad shoulders. Jesus Christ, the hair. Dark, slightly shaggy, pushed back on top but long in the back, curling at the nape of his neck in a way that should not be allowed near unsupervised women.
“Hey’,” he says, like this isn’t a pivotal moment in your sexual awakening. “I’m here about the outage?”
You blink at him. You are officially unfit for conversation.
This man has a mullet. A tattooed, lip-ringed, mullet-wearing man is standing in your hallway holding a voltage tester like its foreplay.
Suddenly, your pajama shorts feel too short for this moment. You fumble with the doorknob, “Uh. Yeah. Come in. It’s, uh.. yeah.”
Brilliant. Shakespeare could never.
He steps inside, and holy shit, he’s even taller than you thought. The kind of tall that makes your ceilings feel shorter. The kind of tall where you have to crane your neck just slightly to look up at him, which is offensive because you’re not exactly short yourself. He smells like a mix of sawdust, a hint of pine, laundry detergent, and a 2002 Nissan Altima. It’s oddly specific.
He glances around like he’s surveying a battlefield. “Power cut out completely?”
You nod, shuffling behind him as he moves farther into your apartment with the kind of confidence like he’s somehow been to your home before. His boots thud across your hardwood floor, scuffed and loud. The tool belt clinks. His shirt rides up when he stretches his arm to check something near the ceiling and there’s a flash of golden skin and low-slung cargo pants and—
You’re not doing well.
He pops open the panel in the ceiling like it’s nothing. “Y’all been having issues with this before? Flickering? Dead outlets?”
“Sometimes the kitchen light hums like it’s possessed,” you say, which you regret immediately. “I mean, not literally possessed. Not like.. haunted. Just… you know. Buzzing.”
He chuckles. It’s a low, gravelly sound that sinks its teeth into your spine and doesn’t let go.
“Probably a loose connection in the junction box. Nothing too crazy,” he says, grabbing something from his belt that you will now dream about tonight. “You work from home?”
You nod again, helpless. “Yeah. Marketing.”
He glances back at you. “Tough with no WiFi.”
You turn around under the guise of “letting him work” but really just to text your roommate, Sana, with trembling fingers.
You: help. our power went out and the electrician we got sent is so hot
You: he has a MULLET. a mullet, sana. he said “junction box” and i almost moaned
You hear him grunt softly as he stretches to reach something and you nearly drop your phone.
Sana: SEND A PIC RN
You sneak a glance back — he’s perched on your step stool, arms flexing as he reaches into the ceiling. His hair is curling perfectly at the back of his neck, a little messy from the heat.
You don’t send a pic. You can’t. It feels criminal. You feel like you’re watching live porn with consequences.
Then he speaks again, casually. “You smell something burning last night? Or anything weird before it cut out?”
You nearly say “just my ovaries,” but God reaches down and slaps your mouth shut.
Instead, you clear your throat. “Nope. No sparks, no smell. It just… died this morning.”
He nods, focused. “Might be a fuse then. I’ll check the basement in a sec.”
He drops down from the stool with a casual thud and wipes his hands on that rag in his back pocket. That ass, that rag. This is no longer an apartment. It’s a crime scene.
You glance up just in time to see him walking toward your front door, lifting the back of his shirt to wipe his forehead. You black out for a second.
You: he just wiped sweat off his forehead with the back of his shirt. i saw ab muscle. like cut definition. i think it smiled at me.
Sana: you need jail or a CONDOM stat. get his number???
You’re halfway through typing “I don’t even know his name yet” when the front door opens behind you, and you almost launch your phone across the room like it’s a grenade.
He steps back into your apartment with that casual, unbothered energy he’s so good at carrying. Hair slightly damp at the edges now, cheeks pink from the walk up your stairs, tool belt still jingling.
“Basement breaker’s fine,” he says, brushing his palm down the front of his shirt. “Might be a wiring issue. Gonna check one more thing.”
You blink. Nod. Attempt human speech. Fail. “Cool. Yeah. Check… stuff.”
Christ. You sound like you learned English from Duolingo five minutes ago.
He smiles then, actually smiles. Full teeth, little bunny front ones peeking out. His lip ring glints as he does it, and your brain goes completely static for a second.
“Want some water?” you blurt, and immediately hate yourself. “Or iced tea? Or, whatever I have in the fridge that isn’t expired?”
He huffs out a little laugh, shakes his head. “Nah, I’m good. But thanks, sweetheart.”
You freeze like you’ve been slapped by a porn star. He walks past you again like nothing happened, reaching for something in his tool bag, completely unaware that your soul just evacuated your body.
You unlock your phone immediately, fingers trembling, and text in all caps.
You: HE CALLED ME SWEETHEART.
You: arrest him. make him marry me. i don’t care just make it LEGAL
You barely get the message out when he turns slightly and casually, and says, “So… you live here with your boyfriend, or…?”
You blink hard.
The question hangs there, just slightly too relaxed. Like it’s not loaded with potential. Like it’s not every Wattpad plotline you’ve ever read come to life in front of your half-broken Ikea bookshelf.
Your brain short-circuits harder than your kitchen socket. Is he flirting? Was that… are you being flirted with? It’s been a minute. Like, a long minute since you’ve had someone show genuine interest in you. You can’t tell anymore. He could be asking because he needs to know whose ass he’s about to get chewed out by if he knocks something over, or because he’s just curious.
You manage to croak out, “Just my roommate. Sana.”
He nods and doesn’t press. He lets out a low, distracted, “Hm,” like that’s useful information. Like it slots into place somewhere in his head and he’s okay with it.
You, meanwhile, are mentally drafting a will because you’re not sure your heart’s going to survive the rest of this visit.
He leans over your couch armrest to reach the outlet near the floor. His cargo pants pull slightly tighter around his thighs and you look away so fast you give yourself whiplash. You try to look normal, like a woman who isn’t catastrophically horny over someone adjusting your voltage.
You: HE ASKED IF I HAD A BOYFRIEND
Sana: I AM SCREAMING. I’M IN LINE AT TRADER JOE’S. OFFER TO MAKE HIM LEMONADE OR SIT ON HIS FACE IDK CHOOSE FAST
He stands back up, wiping his palms on that stupid fucking rag again, and glances over his shoulder. “Shouldn’t take much longer,” he quips with that lazy, dangerous smile.
You nod, eyes wide, pretending you’re normal. “Cool. Thanks. No rush or anything. It’s not like I need power to… survive.”
He quirks a brow at that, like he finds you kind of funny, or kind of tragic.
You sit on the couch, phone hidden in your lap like it’s a shameful secret. He crouches near another outlet, testing something with one of those little gadgets that beeps and blinks.
“So, marketing,” he says over his shoulder. “Like… ads?”
You blink. “Uh. Yeah. I work for a beauty brand. Mostly social media, some campaign strategy. Lots of pretending I know what I’m doing and hoping the algorithm doesn’t hate me that day.”
He chuckles. That low, amused sound that makes your toes curl. “That why you’re so good at talking?”
You freeze. “What?”
He glances back, smile creeping in slow and lazy. There’s an unfortunate amount of sarcasm behind his tone. “You seem to stumble a bit over words.”
You blink again, officially out of working brain cells. “Sorry. I—I can stop. I don’t mean to be annoying, I just—”
“I didn’t say it was annoying.” He doesn’t look at you when he says it. He crouches lower again, tapping something against the outlet. But you hear it anyway and feel it, low in your stomach like a dropped elevator.
Your phone buzzes in your lap, blessedly interrupting the moment before you combust.
Sana: girl. do i need to walk around the block or are you gonna fuck him. be honest.
You bite your lip so hard you nearly draw blood. He straightens up, wiping his palms again. “So do you like it? The job?”
“Oh. Um. Yeah. It’s… stressful. But fun, sometimes. I guess,” You scratch the back of your neck.
“You good at it?” He grunts out, looking for something in his toolbox.
Your mind blanks. “What?”
He turns to look at you full-on now, arms crossed, shirt clinging to the curve of his shoulders. “Marketing. All that stuff. You good at it?”
You let out a nervous little laugh. “I mean, I hope so. I’ve been doing it for a few years now, and nobody’s fired me yet.”
“That’s not what I asked.” His tone isn’t aggressive. It’s low and relaxed. But something about the way he says it makes your pulse skip.
“I… I think I am,” you say, slower this time.
He nods once as if that answer pleases him. “You seem like you’d be.”
You’re gonna die. You’re going to actually die. This man is being nice to you, and it feels like your body isn’t prepared for that level of stimulus.
You glance at your phone again.
Sana: WHY ARE YOU TAKING THIS LONG TO RESPOND??? IS HIS DICK OUT. BLINK TWICE
You look back up and he’s leaning against the doorframe that divides your kitchen and living room now, arms still crossed, lip ring catching the light. “So your roommate…?”
You nod, trying not to choke. “Yeah. Her name’s Sana. We’ve lived together since college.”
“She at work?” You swear he looks at your legs in your shorts, but could also be wishful thinking.
“Not right now. She works night shifts at the hospital 15 minutes away from here.,” You twiddle your thumbs in your lap.
He hums, still watching you. “So you’re here all alone today.”
It’s not a question. It shouldn’t be hot. It’s just a sentence. But, the way he says it? The tone? The slight lilt at the end, like it means more than it says?
You let out a strangled sound that you hope reads as a laugh. “Yeah. Just me. Alone. In this… apartment. Where you are. Currently.”
He tilts his head, smiling again. “You’re kind of funny for someone with no electricity.”
You hesitate. Then, blurting before you can stop yourself, “And you’re kind of cocky for someone who still hasn’t turned my lights on yet.”
He raises an eyebrow, a smirk slowly appearing. “Hm?”
You shake your head way too fast. “I mean—just—like, you’ve been here for a bit now and you’re fixing my power and it is taking quite long, but I promise I’m not mad about it.. I’m sorry.”
He lets out a real laugh this time. Full, low, and stupidly hot. He pushes off the wall and walks back toward the kitchen like he didn’t just wreck your central nervous system.
You take another breath and text Sana.
You: he’s flirting. he’s literally flirting. i want to crawl inside the oven
Sana: girl. jump on the counter and say “while you’re fixing things, i’m also broken.”
Almost like he was trying to prove a point to you, the lights come back on with a quiet click, a whirr of electricity humming back to life through your walls, and you swear the sound might as well be a death knell.
He steps back from the panel in your hallway, tapping the side of it with a knuckle like he just fixed your entire infrastructure. “There we go,” he says, “Should be good now. Might’ve just been a loose connection behind the breaker, it’s common in these old buildings.”
You nod slowly, like you understood a single word of that. All you really heard was competency and your brain whispered: breedable.
“That’s… great,” you reply, way too softly. “Thanks.”
He wipes his hands again on that same rag and starts packing up his tools, metal clicking together as he slips things back into place. His forearm flexes with every movement, tattoos shifting across his skin like they’re in on the joke.
“Need help with anything else?” he asks casually, not looking at you as he zips up the tool bag. His voice dips slightly.
Your heart stutters. You should say actually, yeah, my back is acting up and I think the solution involves that couch and maybe you using me like a handrail. But instead you go, “Nope. That’s all.”
Your phone vibrates against your thigh, dragging you back to earth.
Sana: have you ever heard of blue collar dick??? this is ur chance
You squint at that text, thumbs pausing mid-reply.
Blue collar dick.
The phrase unlocks something buried deep in your brain. A memory. A TikTok you watched half-asleep one night at 1:37AM, under the glow of your LED lights, while eating dry cereal out of a mug. The girl had looked straight into the camera, wide-eyed and deadly serious, and whispered: “Blue collar dick is not just a concept. It’s a lifestyle. It’s the kind of unholy grip someone develops on you after a man with calloused hands and a union paycheck fixes your sink and rearranges your soul in the same afternoon.”
You’d laughed. Scoffed, even. How dramatic.
He zips up the last pouch on his tool bag and stands tall, glancing toward the door like he might head that way but he doesn’t. He stays.
He rolls his shoulder a little, absently adjusting the strap, and you watch his fingers drag across the curve of his neck.
“You think everything working alright?” he asks, voice low and unhurried like he’s trying to fill the silence. Like he knows you’re still stuck in some sort of horny trance and he’s being generous enough to let you catch up.
“Yeah,” you say, breathier than intended. “Power’s on. Looks like the WiFi is back. I can check if my laptop came back to life.”
You gesture toward your computer like it matters. Like any of that is worth focusing on when he is standing six feet from you.
He hums, looking around your living room where you’re still on your couch. “Place is cute.”
You blink. “Oh. Uh. Thanks. It’s… falling apart slowly, but charming.”
He doesn’t really acknowledge that. “Anything else broken in here?” he asks, stepping away from the wall a little. “Leaky faucet? Shaky table leg? My dad taught me how to fix a ton of stuff, I’m pretty handy with anything. You want me to check something else?”
Your mouth opens and closes. Your brain struggles to find the words, and the words you want to say are not coming out easily, so you just respond with, “No. I mean… no, I think we’re good. You fixed the lights.”
His eyes flicker and stay on you just a second too long. Then he shifts slightly, sets the tool box down again with a thud, and stretches his arms overhead like he’s got nowhere to be. Shirt rides up just enough for you to see the line of his waistband and the shadow of toned skin beneath it, and you almost bite your tongue off.
“You sure?” he asks again, tone casual, almost amused now. “You looked kinda… bummed when the lights came back on.”
Your head jerks up. “What? No. I wasn’t.. I mean, not bummed. Just surprised. Happy. Grateful. Electrified, if you will.”
Electrified. You’re going to throw yourself off the balcony.
He laughs again, and you swear it vibrates in your chest. “I could hang out a sec,” he offers, and it’s not subtle anymore. “Just make sure everything stays stable. Sometimes the lights will turn back off randomly.”
Everything’s stable, you repeat in your brain like an idiot. I am not.
He’s leaning one shoulder against the wall now, lazy and relaxed, eyes still on you like he’s just waiting to see what you’ll say next.
Before your brain can stop your mouth from doing anything reckless, you blurt out, “Have you eaten?”
His brows lift. “What?”
You clear your throat. “Lunch. Have you had any?”
He tilts his head, eyes flickering down to your mouth for one half-second too long. “Not yet,” he says, “Didn’t get the chance.”
You nod like this is normal. Like offering food to electricians with tool belts and stupidly sexy mullets is part of your daily routine. “I can make you something if you want.”
His mouth curves, slow and teasing. “Yeah? You feed all the guys your landlord sends over?”
You roll your eyes so hard they nearly eject from your skull. “Only the ones who save me from having to live in darkness.”
He huffs out a laugh. “Then yeah. I’m kinda hungry.”
He walks over to where you’re sitting, drops his bag beside the couch, stretches with a casual groan that shoots straight between your thighs, and flops onto your couch like he’s done it a hundred times. Like your couch is a perfectly acceptable throne for his man-spreading, bicep-showcasing, very-much-staying presence.
You twiddle your fingers, “If i make you food, it’s only right if I get your name.”
Smooth. Real fucking smooth.
“Jungkook,” He looks over to you, trying to bite back a grin. “And yours is [Y/N], right? Saw it on the assignment sheet.”
“Yup. Cool,” You gulp down some saliva that was lodged in your throat.
You march to the kitchen like a woman on a mission, flinging the fridge open with the determination of someone prepping for an exorcism. It’s not that you want to impress him. It’s just that… okay. No. You do want to impress him. You want to serve this man a sandwich so good he files a formal complaint against your thighs for being too far from his face.
You find good bread. Not the sad white slices. You find turkey. Cheese. Lettuce that isn’t slimy. A tomato you aggressively pat dry with a paper towel like a psychotic housewife. You toast the bread and add a little mustard. You even cut the sandwich diagonally, because if you’re going to be delusional, you’re going to be domestically deranged about it.
Your phone buzzes for the billionth time.
Sana: DID YOU FUCK HIM YET
You ignore her. You grab a little paper plate with a cup of water and a napkin and present this meal like you are some Michelin chef. You walk it out carefully, feeling like you should have a white linen apron and one of those vintage Coke ads playing behind you.
“Damn,” he says when you hand it to him, voice warm with surprise. “You really went all out.”
You shrug, trying to act chill. “Just a sandwich.”
He takes a bite and groans.“No, this is next level. Wife-tier sandwich.”
Your face goes hot. You sit down beside him on the couch, one cushion away, legs crossed, heart racing. You grab your phone and finally reply to Sana before she drives to the apartment and physically removes you.
You: sana i need you to take a lap. actually take a five-mile lap. this house needs to be mine for two hours minimum.
Sana: i will literally be gone until sunset
You set your phone down and glance at him again. He’s halfway through the sandwich already, clearly enjoying the hell out of it, crumbs on his fingers, lip ring glinting as he chews.
“So,” you say casually, “how’d you get into electrical work?”
He swallows, wipes his mouth, and shrugs. “Started out helping my uncle with his crew back home. Learned enough on the job that I stuck with it. Took the exam, got certified, picked up my own clients.”
“That’s hot,” you say before thinking.
He pauses, blinks, then smirks again. “Yeah?”
You want to shrivel into the cushions. “I mean, just like the hands-on thing. Fixing stuff. Being good with your hands.”
He glances at you, faintly amused. “It’s a bold choice… Flirting with the guy who knows your wires inside out better than you ever could.”
You’ve made your decision. You’ve committed to the bit. You’re going to have him. You don’t care how. You don’t care if it’s a terrible idea. You’re already halfway there, and if blue collar dick is a myth, you’d like to be the one to confirm or deny it firsthand. You smile, tilting your head. “I like living on the edge.”
He finishes the sandwich and sets the plate on your coffee table with a little sigh. “Damn. Guess I should’ve been in this line of work sooner.”
You let out a soft laugh, glancing at him through your lashes like you’re not actively in the process of losing your mind.
He shifts slightly on the couch, one arm thrown casually along the back cushion, knee brushing yours now, and your whole body tightens at the contact. You look down at his hand, rough, calloused, fingers spread just enough to imagine what they’d feel like anywhere else.
Focus. Focus.
“So,” you start, aiming for casual but landing somewhere around unhinged, “do you, like… do this for a lot of people?”
He raises an eyebrow. “Fix electricity?”
You laugh too fast. “No! Well, yeah. I mean. Yes. But like… do you do this for one person a lot? Regularly? Like… someone special. Like a client. A consistent client.”
He’s still watching you, brows slightly raised, clearly trying to follow your logic. “Huh?”
You look down, embarrassed. Shit. Too subtle. You double back. “Sorry, I meant… like… is there someone who, you know, gets their power fixed all the time? Like a… girlfriend?”
Oh my god. Girlfriend. You say it like you’ve never spoken English before, like the concept of casual inquiry never existed.
His lips tugging up like he knows exactly what you’re asking. “Nah,” he replies. “No girlfriend.”
He reaches for the glass of water you’d set on the coffee table earlier, and you watch his throat work as he takes a slow gulp. His lip ring catches the light again, and your brain completely flatlines.
No girlfriend.
No girlfriend. That’s… fine. That’s great. That’s also dangerous.
Your heart is pounding so loud in your ears you barely register that he hasn’t looked away. When he sets the glass down again, his eyes don’t drift back to his phone or the room or the vague distance.
They stay locked on you.
You shift slightly, suddenly hyperaware of how close you’re sitting. His fingers are still relaxed against the couch cushion, a breath away from the curve of your shoulder.
“Should I expect a full background check with your next outage?”he says, voice low now.
You’re officially in the danger zone now with no intentions of stopping. “Already ran yours. Five star reviews all around. “
He chuckles, quietly. “I’m honored.”
Your breath catches. It’s a small sound. Barely audible. But his gaze dips lower at the sound of it, flickering between your mouth and your throat. He doesn’t hide it anymore. There’s no playfulness left.
“Stop staring” you mutter, trying to keep your voice even.
He lifts a brow. “I’m not.”
“Are you… thinking about kissing me?” This is worse than that one time in 10th grade when you got put in a closet with your crush and you practically slammed him against the door begging him to kiss you.
However, Jungkook doesn’t smile or smile. His gaze lingers on your lips still like he’s counting the seconds. “Would that be a problem?”
Your stomach drops. The air between you turns solid. “No,” you say softly. “It’d be the opposite of a problem.”
He doesn’t move right away, or lunge and lean in. He lets the silence fill with heat, with potential, like he wants you to feel the choice stretch out and make sure you want it just as much as he does. (Is he insane? Of course you do)
You want him to kiss you so bad it’s physically painful. Every nerve in your body is waiting for it, screaming for it, for the weight of his hand on your jaw, the feel of his lip ring pressing into yours.
You inch just slightly closer and your knee brushes against his fully now. Your face is tilted up toward his without even thinking.
“Are you gonna?” you whisper, voice barely there.
His eyes flicker again and then he smiles. “Thought you’d never ask.”
He leans in, not in some clumsy rush. He drags it out just long enough for you to feel your whole body tense with anticipation. His hand finds your jaw first, thumb brushing your cheek, fingers curling gently under your chin.
And then his mouth is on yours.
He kisses you like it’s his job, like he’s done this a thousand times but still finds something new in the shape of your lips. His mouth moves with intention, none of that awkward fumbling, none of the soft, shy hesitation. It’s confident. His lip ring drags against your lower lip and you actually whimper, because of course he knows how to use it.
He groans low in his throat when your fingers knot in the front of his shirt, tugging him closer. One hand slips around the back of your neck, the other finding your waist, pulling you across the couch and into him like he can’t stand even a breath of space between you.
He tastes like faint mint and the sandwich you made him. Your legs shift, tangling with his. His hand is already on your thigh, rough palm skimming under the hem of your shorts, gripping hard enough to make your breath stutter into his mouth.
You gasp when he bites down lightly, but enough to make you feel it. He soothes it with a kiss immediately after, dragging his mouth down your jaw, and murmurs into your skin, “You’re a good kisser.”
You could die. You could die right now and it would be worth it.
You tilt your head back to give him more access, voice breathless. “Yeah? You’re not so bad yourself.”
That earns you another groan, this one deeper, more possessive. His hand slides up your side, under your hoodie, fingers grazing bare skin and making your back arch instinctively.
He kisses you again, messier now and wetter. Tongues tangling, teeth clashing. His fingers sink into your thigh, pull you closer until you’re practically straddling him on the couch and you feel him, hard beneath his cargo pants, pressed against your hip like a threat.
“You sure you don’t need anything else fixed?” he murmurs against your mouth.
And all you can do is nod, eyes heavy, hands trembling against his chest as you whisper: “Hmm. I think my body is out of order. Needs fixing.”
Big hands grip your thighs, and with one swift, greedy motion, he’s pushing you back into the couch cushions. You land with a quiet gasp, hair fanned out, lips swollen, hoodie riding up over your stomach.
He’s hovering, body caged above yours, weight pressed into one arm braced beside your head, the other skimming up your waist and dragging your hoodie even higher. His silver chain dangles loose from his neck and every time he leans down to kiss you again, it smacks against your throat, cold and heavy, sending a shiver straight through you.
He groans when you arch up into him, letting your hips roll slightly, needy and desperate, and he feels it, feels how bad you want him and how worked up you are.
His bicep flexes beside your head, holding himself up so he doesn’t crush you but you kind of wish he would. You let your hand drift up, fingertips grazing the muscle slowly, shamelessly.
Holy fuck, he’s strong.
Strong in the way that makes your thighs press together, that makes you want to find out what else those arms can hold you down against. You squeeze just a little, test the resistance, and he grins against your lips.
“That’s what you’re thinkin’ about?” he murmurs, dragging his mouth to your neck now, teeth grazing your jaw. “My arms?”
You don’t answer. You can’t. Your brain is literally melting.
He licks a stripe up the side of your throat and bites, just enough to make you whimper, and the damn chain swings again, cold against the same spot.
“You like that?” he asks, “Hmm?”
You nod frantically, whining. You’re gone.
His hand slides down to grip your thigh again, hiking it up around his waist, and the angle has you gasping. His hips dip into yours just enough to make it obvious: he’s hard, and he’s not even trying to hide it now.
“You gonna let me take care of you?” he mutters, biting your earlobe. “Since you fed me and everything. Feels only fair.”
You nod again, breathless. “Yeah.”
“Good,” he says, lips brushing yours. “Been thinkin’ about kissing you since the second you opened that door.”
His hands are already slipping under the hem of your hoodie, thumbs dragging across the skin of your waist as he mutters, low and sinful, “Lift your hips for me.”
You do instantly and he slides your shorts down so slowly it feels like punishment. They snag slightly at your thighs before he gets them off, flinging them somewhere over the armrest, and then he just stares. Lets his eyes drag from your knees to the place between your thighs like he’s about to pray and commit a felony in the same breath.
You’re not even fully naked, but you already feel exposed. Every part of you twitching with anticipation because the way this man looks at you? It’s like he already knows what you taste like.
He lowers himself, right between your knees and spreads your legs open with two hands and drags your body closer to him.
“You’re already shaking,” he whispers, lips brushing along the inside of your thigh. “What’s got you so worked up, sweetheart?”
You want to answer. You try to answer. But then he presses a kiss right above your knee, then lower and lower. It’s like he’s savoring every inch of you, kissing a trail up your thigh like you’re dessert and he’s been starving all day.
When he finally gets to your underwear, he lets out a low hum.
“Fuck,” he murmurs, thumb dragging along the edge. “You’re soaked.”
You choke on your own spit. He hooks his fingers under the waistband, and looks up at you, eyes dark. You’re propped up on your elbows, watching him like you’re in a live-action fantasy, because that’s exactly what it feels like.
“Gonna take these off now,” he says, almost too gently.
You nod like a bobblehead. “Please.”
He tugs them down painfully slow, and when they slip off your legs and drop to the floor, he doesn’t even hesitate. He just dives in.
Tongue flat, broad, ruthless against you, dragging through your folds. You jolt, hips bucking off the couch, and his hands immediately slide up to pin you down, fingers bruising your thighs as he holds you in place.
He moans into you, tongue curling, lips wrapping around your clit with slow, maddening pressure. The suction makes you cry out, hand flying to grab at his hair, soft, messy strands you curl your fingers into.
“Fuck, J-Jungkook,” you gasp. His grip tightens on your thighs in response. He flattens his tongue again, licking long and slow, nose nudging against your clit just enough to make your legs shake. Then he shifts, tilts his head just slightly, and flicks the tip of his tongue in tight, fast circles.
You swear you see God.
He doesn’t stop, and it’s obscene how good it is. You can hear it. Mapping out every flick, every swirl, every suck that makes your thighs twitch and your head fall back in helpless, high-pitched whines.
He’s so good at it, it’s almost infuriating. Like he’s been training for this specific moment, like he knew your body before you ever laid eyes on his goddamn toolbelt.
“Shit,” you whimper, your fingers gripping the edge of the couch like you’ll fall off the earth if he keeps going.
He pulls back barely, enough to murmur against your soaked skin, “What’s that, sweetheart?”
You look down at him, wide-eyed and desperate, and the sight makes your stomach flip.
His eyes are dark, heavy-lidded, locked on yours with zero shame. His lips are wet, his lip ring gleaming, his chain dragging down your thigh. His hands are still gripping your legs tight. “You’re already shaking,” he taunts, “You gonna fall apart before I even get my fingers in?”
You let out a sound you don’t recognize. Your hips buck without permission, trying to chase more friction, more pressure, anything, and he laughs.
“Thought you were gonna take it,” he mutters, kissing your inner thigh again, right where it’s already slick. “Thought you were tough.”
“Jungkook,” Your voice breaks.
“Yeah, baby?” he smiles, “Want more?”
You nod frantically. “Please. Please, please.”
“Mmhmm.” He drags his tongue back up, slow and torturous. “Tell me what you want.”
“I want—” you gasp as he suckles your clit again, just hard enough to make your legs spasm. “I want your fingers please. I can’t—”
“You can,” he says, way too calm. “You’re gonna. Not done with you yet.”
He slides one hand down between your thighs, dragging his fingers through your slick folds, slow and unhurried. You feel the first press of his fingertip at your entrance and it’s over.
When he finally pushes in just one thick finger, your mouth drops open in a silent gasp. It feels so good, too good.
“You’re so tight, baby,” he notes more to himself than to you. “Fuck. Gripping already.”
He curls his finger and you practically wail. You slap a hand over your mouth but he sees it, and then lowers his mouth back down to your clit like he’s starving for it.
His tongue and his finger move in tandem. Circles and pressure and heat all at once, building you up, pushing you higher, dragging desperate sounds out of you that you’ve never made before.
“Jungkook, fuck, please,” you sob, grabbing at his hair. “Please, I need—”
“You need what?” he murmurs against you, adding a second finger slowly, the stretch perfect, his mouth never leaving your clit.
“I need, need to cum, please—”
“Nah,” he says, eyes flicking up to meet yours as his fingers start to fuck into you even deeper, “Not yet.”
You’re near tears at this point.
He flattens his tongue and moans into you, and your hips jerk off the couch. Your hands are clutching at him now, your stomach tightening, thighs trembling around his head as he talks you through it.
“You’re so fucking pretty like this,” he exhales, eyes locked on your face. “All needy and loud. Fuck, baby. I could eat you all day.”
You’re so close it hurts. He can feel it, the way your walls clench around his fingers, sucking him in.
“That’s it,” he coaxes, voice hoarse against you. “Come on, pretty girl. Cum for me.”
And you do, embarrassingly hard. It crashes over you like a power surge, hot and fast and blinding. Your hips jerk, your mouth drops open in a silent cry, and you’re cumming so hard you forget your own name.
He doesn’t stop until you’re twitching, until your legs are shaking uncontrollably and you’re pushing at his shoulder with a broken gasp.
Still, he doesn’t let up. His tongue is relentless, fingers even more ruthless. You’re sweating, teary-eyed and so close you’re practically vibrating, when you finally snap.
“Jungkook,” you moan, throat raw. “I need you to fuck me. Please. I can’t—“
That gets him to cease. He pulls back, mouth soaked, lip ring gleaming. His hand lingers between your thighs for a second longer before he pushes himself up and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, panting.
You reach up, fingers clutching the front of his shirt, dragging him down so you can kiss him. You taste yourself on his tongue, and it just makes it worse, makes you needier.
He stands up, stripping down as fast as humanly possible. The black tee comes off first, revealing a chest that’s all muscle, abs that flex when he tosses the shirt aside. Then the cargo pants get shoved down, and…
Holy fucking shit.
It swings free and heavy into his palm, and you gasp.
That’s what they meant by blue collar dick. Thick, veiny, the prettiest goddamn cock you’ve ever seen. Long, curved just right, flushed and leaking at the tip as he wraps his hand around the base and starts stroking himself, slow and lazy.
He tilts his head back with a low groan, lashes fluttering, chain swinging over his chest and you just stare.
You’ve seen good dick before. You’ve had great dick, even. This is different. This is the kind of dick that installs central air and breaks bed frames. The kind that fucks through creaky floorboards, says “good girl” like a prophet, and pays in cash everywhere.
“Yeah?” he rasps, still jerking himself slowly, eyes dark as he looks down at you. “You want it, baby?”
You nod like your life depends on it. “Please. Need it so bad.”
He doesn’t waste another second. “Turn over,” he says, voice commanding. “Face down, ass up. I want that spine arched.”
You scramble to obey, flipping onto your stomach, shoving your hoodie up out of the way. You bury your face in the couch cushion, arms stretched forward, hips high in the air and the sound Jungkook makes behind you is inhuman.
“Fucking hell,” he licks his lips, hands gripping your hips, thumbs spreading you open. “Look at you.”
You feel him line up behind you, thick head sliding through your slick folds, teasing but not pushing in yet, and your whole body twitches.
“You’re perfect like this,” he says, one hand sliding up your back, pressing between your shoulder blades until your arch deepens. “Back all pretty, ass in the air, soaked for me. Fuck, baby.”
He leans forward, voice rasping hot in your ear. “You gonna take it for me like this, yeah? Gonna let me fuck you nice and deep?”
You moan out, whimpering into the pillow. “Yes. Yes, please.”
“Atta girl.”
He pushes in slow, allowing you to feel every inch. You feel the thick, burning stretch of him as he sinks in deeper, splitting you open around his cock. Your breath catches on a whimper, eyes rolling back as he fills you.
“Fuuuuck,” you choke out, voice strangled. “You’re so big.”
Behind you, Jungkook lets out a guttural groan.
“Yeah?” he rasps, still sliding in, forcing your walls to open around him. “That too much for you, baby?”
You shake your head, barely able to breathe, cheek pressed into the cushion. “No, no, it’s so good, just, fuck—”
He bottoms out, hips flush against your ass, and you swear you see stars. You’re so full it’s almost unbearable, like he’s in your stomach, You’ve never felt anything like it; your walls clenching, dripping, pulsing and he’s barely even moved yet.
He pulls out halfway and slams back in, then does it again… and again… and again.
His pace is brutal, deep, pounding thrusts that send shockwaves through your spine and bounce off the walls. Skin slapping, the obscene wet squelch of your cunt sucking him in over and over, the couch creaking beneath you. You’re a full mess under him, and he’s moaning now too.
“Fuck,”Jungkook growls behind you, breath ragged. “You hear that? You hear how wet you are for me?”
You do. The sound of your pussy squelching around his cock is loud, echoing with every thrust as your juices coat his length and drip down your thighs onto the couch cushions below.
“Fucking soaked,” he growls again, hips snapping into you.
His hand finds your hair, grabbing a fistful at the base of your neck and pulling. Your head lifts from the pillow you grabbed from nearby in a panic, back arched to its limit, body bent like a bowstring as he fucks into you harder now that he has you right where he wants you.
“Taking it so good, baby,” he pants, yanking your head back just enough to make you moan. He keeps pounding into you, dragging that cock so deep it feels like he’s carving himself into your soul, keeping your head held high by your hair, whispering filth that makes your legs shake.
“You wanna cum, don’t you?” he growls, tone thick and mean. “Wanna fall apart right here on my cock?”
You’re shaking too hard to answer, all that’s coming out are some babbles you nor him have any energy to interpret. Somehow, your brain flashes back to that fucking TikTok. That girl that described “blue collar dick” like it was some natural disaster.
Now you’re living it.
You’re bent over on your own couch, spine arched, tears in your eyes, unable to even think as Jungkook wrecks you with his cock and whispers filthy praise in your ear like it’s his job. This is blue collar dick. This is the goddamn thesis statement of that TikTok. You’re going to send that girl flowers.
“Please,” you cry, “Please, Jungkook.”
“Yeah?” he pants, breath hot against your neck as his fingers reach down and work your clit cruelly enough to keep you from tipping over. “That desperate for it, sweetheart?”
You nod, choking out sobs, your body twitching around him, clenching hard enough that he starts to fall apart.
“Fuck,” he groans, cock twitching inside you. “You’re so tight. Keep squeezing me like that and I’m gonna cum before you do.”
You moan loud into the pillow, your whole body wrecked and burning, still locked in this purgatory he’s created, his cock fucking you deep and hard, his fingers rolling over your clit with precision, holding you right there.
“Say it,” he growls, “Tell me how bad you need it.”
“I need it, please, I need it so bad. I can’t, I’m so close, please let me cum.” Your self -control has exited the apartment.
“Yeah, that’s it,” he grits out behind you, “Fuck, baby, feel how tight you are? How bad your pussy wants to cum for me?”
You can’t answer. You’re drooling into the pillow, gasping, your body jerking with every thrust like you’re being electrocuted.
“Let go,” he groans, voice shaking. “You’re gonna cum for me now, yeah? Go on, baby. Fucking cum.”
The second his thumb presses tightly just right against your clit, you shatter. It hits you like a wave. Your body locks up, thighs clenching, back arching so hard it lifts your hips even higher as your orgasm rips through you, hot and overwhelming. You scream as your pussy clenches around his cock, pulsing and gushing as you cum so hard your vision goes white.
Your arms give out completely. You collapse forward onto the couch with a breathless sob, ass still arched up as your cunt throbs around him, wetness dripping down your thighs in sticky trails. Your face is buried in the cushion, your legs are trembling.
“Oh my fuck,” Jungkook groans, “Just like that. You feel that, baby? Feel how good it is when you cum on me?”
He curses, pulls out fast and you let out a weak little cry at the loss, at the ache he leaves behind.
But then he’s jerking himself over you, his hand wrapped tight around his cock, wrist snapping fast, hips stuttering as he pants over you, chasing his own high.
His head tilts back, bottom lip tucked under his top teeth. A deep, broken moan is ripped straight from his chest as his hips twitch forward and he spills across the curve of your ass in thick, hot ropes. His chain swings with the motion, clinking gently as he fucks his fist through it, painting your skin in messy, perfect streaks.
“Fuckfuckfuck,” he groans, his eyes squeezed shut. “You’re… fuck, baby. You’re unreal.”
You’re too far gone to speak.
You stay face-down on the couch for a full minute post-impact, naked and glazed like a donut.
Jungkook exhales somewhere behind you, like he too is processing the life-altering events that just occurred in your living room. You hear his body move as he leans back, chest rising and falling, the distinct sound of a man who just came so hard he forgot his social security number.
There’s cum on your ass. Your hair’s stuck to your cheek. The throw pillow has a bite mark in it. You are not well.
You finally lift your head a fraction of an inch. “I think I just met God.”
Jungkook lets out a soft, post-nut laugh. “Yeah?” he rasps. “Tell him I said hi.”
You look over at him from where you’re sprawled out on the couch, now on your stomach. “…So do I owe you money, or…?”
He snorts. “For what?”
“For fixing my power?” You say it like it’s obvious.. which it should be.
Jungkook leans over and smacks your ass, casual, affectionate. “Nah. This one’s on the house.”
Eventually, he helps you sit up, grabbing the nearest clean towel in your bathroom like this is all completely normal. You look at each other and you don’t know whether to laugh or cry or call your landlord and thank him for being so aggressively useless.
You’ll deal with that later.
Right now, you accept the towel, take a shaky breath. You blink at him, dazed, legs still jelly. “So if I break something else… just a hypothetical, should I call you..?”
He smirks, tugs his pants back up without bothering to button them, and says, “Depends. If you break something else, I expect a personal invitation. No middleman this time.”
In a world where every single step is recorded and analysed by cameras, F1 racer Jeon Jungkook could care less about his reputation, having decided that with the amount of money he has he could buy the silence of everybody, if he wished.
Behind him, there's a girl losing her mind trying to get him to behave, knowing that her job is at risk if she doesn't cover up his mess-ups in time.
What happens when one of the most influential and world recognised racers falls head over heels for his PR manager, who absolutely despises his "I've got it all" attitude and wants nothing more than to keep doing her job in peace?
WORDCOUNT: 2k7 words
WARNING: a tinge of angst, Tae being Tae and JK being JK, OC having none of their shit.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: heii...heii... how ya doing...? okay, I know, I know, I'm a piece of shit for having y'all wait all this time. I promise that I haven't done it on purpose, exams and writer's block kicked me in the ass. But! Chapter 3 is finally here, all's well, right? right? ok, for this chapter: it's weird. it's all over the place. we've got OC almost killing both Tae and JK. and honestly? can't blame her. Tae pushes boundaries while knowing what he's doing. JK does the same, but he's completely clueless. and she's tired, cause on one hand there's a man who means well but acts reckless, and on the other hand there's a man who's not aware at all of what he's doing. and then, there's Amanda. sweet, lovely Amanda. I won't say much about her, I want YOU to tell ME what you think about her (and her words). there's a lot of hinting to the past in this chapter, but I won't spoil too much. anyway, that's all. buckle up loves, cause the worse is yet to come.
“Do you mind explaining how the actual fuck you managed to stay underwater for a good five minutes without breathing?”
“I call it pussy power.”
“I call it practice. Did you pick up swimming lessons or something during these years?”
Taehyung shrugged, pushing his slick hair back with his hands. "Kinda. Do you remember Chaewon?"
"Your little cousin?"
Taehyung nodded, and you watched with a soft pang to your heart as the man you had known for years broke into a tender, loving expression, his eyes fixed on a random point underwater. His lips were stretched in a gentle reminiscing smile when he spoke again. "The little fucker insisted on betting on who could hold their breath for longer while underwater last summer and the summer before."
Right as you were about to coo fondly at the thought of Taehyung acting like a big brother, the man blurted out "I won every time, of course," with the most obvious tone ever used before.
Your expression froze for a couple seconds before dropping in time with your shoulders, your hand coming up to pinch the bridge of your nose between your fingers. You sighed, shaking your head almost imperceptibly. "Taehyung... did you actually compete with a five years old little girl? Seriously?"
"Hey, don't look at me like that," a long slim finger pointed at you accusatory, threatening to poke your eyes if closer. "Life isn't fair and someone had to teach her before she could find out in worse ways. I would argue that I actually did her a favour."
"Tae... fuck, I can't believe you. Do me a favour and get out of here before Jungkook comes back, please and thank you."
"What? No, why should I?"
"Because he's gonna come back and think it's weird that we're both here?"
"Why would he? I swear, you've become so much more paranoid since—"
"Shut up."
A long silence stretched between you two, an apologetic look plastered on Taehyung's face. You hated it, hated noticing how his eyes turned pitiful almost immediately, how he looked at you like he was looking at a kid who had lost everything.
"Vel,” his next words were tentative, delivered while standing on tippy toes. “You need to accept it."
Being locked in a cage would probably feel less claustrophobic than staying in that pool any longer, physically free yet mentally restrained.
"Fuck," you muttered, climbing out of the pool in a rush. In a matter of seconds, you were wrapped in your pool towel and headed towards the elevator, marching away like a fury from the man yelling your name over and over again.
The elevator button rattled weirdly as you continuously pushed it, impatiently waiting for the doors to open. As soon as they did you stormed inside, smashing the "3" button without even looking around to see if you were alone. Safe to say, you weren't.
Shy fingers brushed over your shoulder, catching you unprepared. You jumped slightly, feeling your soul leaving your body for a second before recovering quickly.
Big, round eyes were presented in front of you once you turned around, Jungkook’s expression merging concern and curiosity in a weird puppy-like stare, head tilted and all that. When he spoke, his voice was soft, gentle, almost resembling a lullaby.
"You alright?"
"Yeah..." you sighed, feeling your shoulders drop. You hadn't even noticed how tense your whole body was, almost in an attempt to contain the emotions swirling around. "Yeah. I'm alright. Oh, uh— shit, I haven’t even given you time to get off the elevator, I'm so sorry. Here, let me—" but right as you raised your hand to press the "1" button, Jungkook reached around you and swatted your hand away from the panel.
"No! No, it's fine, I was going to the pool just to be with you anyway."
Oh.
Oh.
Weirdly… intimate, but ok. The man was probably sexually drained and romantically constipated, saying shit like that to run after anything that might resemble emotional connection before solitude got the best of him. Maybe you were just imagining things, maybe he had meant to say something else entirely but stuck with it cause he still had some difficulties with English every now and then.
Anyway, it didn't matter. Not enough to overthink it, at least.
Not for now.
“Oh. Is everything alright?”
“I can’t just want to be around you?”
“Seems weird.”
“Everything seems weird to you.”
“Nuh uh.”
“Yuh uh.”
Jungkook snorted as your middle finger went flying in his face, bewilderment clear in his expression. “Okay, first of all, rude,” his hand wrapped around your wrist, pushing your hand down. Your mind immediately catalogued the prominent scratch of his calloused flesh against your own, and you made a mental note to have moisturising cream delivered to his room.
Maybe you could even wring out a sponsorship from one of those expensive cream brands since they were already up and about in his comments under each. Single. Video.
Wouldn’t hurt to kill two birds with one stone, right?
“Second of all,” he continued, moving his towel from his right shoulder to his left, “I figured I haven’t annoyed you enough lately with the GPs and all that stuff. Gotta compensate for my lack of action.”
“Lack of… Jungkook. You hooked up with a random woman in the garage’s bathroom two minutes before you had to jump in the car. Fucking Netflix was all over the place with their cameras and microphones, I had to kidnap that poor woman to make sure they wouldn’t see her. Trust me, you’ve been annoying me more than enough lately.”
The doors of the elevator opened, a quiet ding echoing in the ridiculously large and luxurious looking machine.
Jungkook let you step out first, then followed you right after – it wasn’t something new, he definitely had a habit of walking just a couple steps back from you. He once claimed that he did it because his legs were longer and his steps wider, but you never missed an opportunity to tease him about being your shadow. Except for now, because his confused face only gave you the need to strangle him with your own hands.
“What are you– ooh!” he exclaimed, a lightbulb appearing on top of his empty head. “Isabella?”
You stopped right in your tracks in the middle of the hallway, giving him no time to stop as he lightly bumped into you. “Isabella? Are you fucking serious, Jungkook? You don’t even know her name!”
Throwing your hands up in the air, you stomped away — yes, Jungkook was normally annoying. Yes, he had a lot of casual hookups, just like you. And yes, since you took up the role of PR manager your whole thing was to try and brush away countless scandals he was doomed to be the protagonist of because of his reckless behaviour. But not even knowing the name of the woman he almost risked his career for? That was a new low even for him.
“Wait– Y/N! I don’t understand why you’re acting like this.”
“Of course you don’t!” jamming the code to access your room you stepped in your room, not even bothering to close your door. You knew he would have pushed anyway inside. “You don’t get to treat that woman like some sort of… object just to empty yourself. Buy yourself a fucking fleshlight at this point, it would be way more respectful!”
Heading towards the suitcase lying open on the ground, you crouched down to pick up a new spare of clean clothes. Jungkook stood behind you, leaning on the wall right beside your bed, arms crossed, an unimpressed expression printed on his face. “All of this just because I don’t remember her name?”
“Jungkook—” your breath hitched, and you had to physically restrain yourself to not jump up and claw at his face. “I swear to god I’m gonna kill you one day. Let’s use our brain for once, yeah?” Babying him. Yes, that was definitely the right move. “What’s the first thing you know of a person when you meet them? Their name. You still don’t know them, but now you have that single element that allows them to exist in your dimension. You’ve got a name, and memories attached to it, and virtues, and wrongdoings and lessons and a whole fucking life. Everything’s chained to your name. There’s a reason why parents are asked to name their children as soon as they’re born. So yes, excuse me if I put some weight over this whole ordeal, but it is an issue and I’m not gonna allow you to disrespect that woman just because you’re Jeon Jungkook, racer of the century. Not gonna happen.”
You watched Jungkook’s expression slowly fall , his gaze lowering in shame. He wasn’t stupid, he was actually insanely good at putting himself in other people’ shoes when talked to, but sometimes you wished you didn’t have to explain to him the basics of human decency.
“Now go, please. I have to shower.”
Nodding, he turned towards the door, head low and shoulders slumped. You couldn’t see him in the face, but you were sure he was pouting.
“Oh and, Jungkook?” you called one last time, letting your tired body lean on the wall right where he was a couple of minutes before.
He turned around, his eyes sparking with a hopeful light. He couldn’t handle being scolded by you. “Yes?”
“Her name’s Isadora.”
“How’s the shoulder doing?”
“Been worse, but my neck hurts like hell.”
Amanda hummed in understanding, pumping body oil in her hands. You sighed into your pillow, burying your nose into the freshly washed sheets, still warm and clean-scented. Gotta love the McLaren team and luxury hotels.
“Take off your shirt, sweetheart.”
Amanda’s kind voice guided you through the motions you had done numerous times before, from the moment she told you to lay face-down on your bed to the moment her hands were on your back, pressing all the spots that felt a little too tight for her liking.
“So, how’s work going?” she asked, hands pressing a spot right under your shoulder that made you wince in pain. Amanda muttered something along the lines of “sorry love, part of the routine” and waited for your answer.
“It’s going,” you sighed, biting back a groan as Amanda’s hands worked around your back like their whole purpose was to draw out insanely sinful sounds out of your mouth that would probably make people press their ears to your door just to know what was going on.
She hummed in understanding, then continued: “What about Taehyung? Still trying to hit on you like the old times?”
You, Amanda and Taehyung used to be friends in college. Or, well, Amanda and Taehyung could be better described as acquaintances instead of friends, they acknowledged each other’s existence when together, but not enough to become close friends or anything similar on that list.
Anyway, Amanda knew about you and Taehyung. She didn’t approve of your friends with benefits dynamics, but she also knew that she could say very little in regards since it wasn’t her life she was judging. She was respectful even when in disapproval, and you appreciated it wholeheartedly.
It was a friendship based on mutual respect and understanding even when the differences between you two were more than the things you had in common. At 20, it was clear that the two of you had lived completely different lives: Amanda came from an upper-middle class family that was definitely too religious for your own liking, and she started college while already being in a committed five years old relationship. So it didn’t come as a surprise to you when she first admitted that she didn’t approve of your arrangements with Taehyung, seeing as not only she came from a strict religious upbringing, but she also spent most of her teenage and young adult years side by side with her boyfriend. You, on the other hand, came from a family whose wealth was inherited from past generations, with family structures that weren’t too strict like Amanda’s, and with a spiritual upbringing almost inexistent. Casual sex wasn’t a taboo to you, much less to Taehyung.
You sighed, closing your eyes as memories of the college years flooded your mind. “I wouldn’t say he’s hitting on me, but he’s definitely trying to go back to those old times, yeah.”
“So he is hitting on you.”
You grumbled, knowing that no matter what you said, she wouldn’t accept that Taehyung wasn’t interested in you like that. Amanda had always had this weird idea that your friend was trying to get to your heart through sex like the hopeless romantic she was, and in all those years she never let go of it.
She didn’t press further, opting to change topic. “I heard another luxury hotel is waiting for us in Monaco.”
“Oh I fucking hope so, I’ve never slept better.”
Amanda chuckled, leaving your side just for a second as she gathered a clean cloth and some sort of cream that she squeezed on top of your shoulder. “You need to take better care of yourself, love. We can’t keep doing this every time.”
“I know, Am, I know.”
You peeked behind you, catching a glimpse of her stomach right below her top. A nasty violet bruise had formed next to her belly button, and you could clearly see where the needle had poked her skin. You reached your fingers towards her body, softly stroking the bruised area.
“Still committed to those IVF shots?”
Amanda looked down, a frown taking place on her face. “Jesus, I don’t remember having this dark of a bruise this morning. I swear I don’t even remember what it’s like to have normal, not bruised skin anymore.” She brushed her hand on her stomach carelessly, almost like she was brushing away dust, then went back to work on your body. “Me and Leo are trying. It’s not an easy thing to accept, but you know how keen on having kids we were already back in college. I guess it’s worth giving it a shot, right?”
You turned around fully, throwing her way a look that screamed “really?” before she replied with “No puns intended, by the way.”
Chuckling, you laid back on the bed, letting Amanda finish her job in peace. A soft buzz from your left brought your attention to your phone, the screen lighting up with two notifications.
Jeon Bun
- I’m sorry for today :(
- Can we talk about it?
You sighed, stomach clenching in guilt as you read his messages again. Jungkook was never one to text first. No, screw that, he wasn’t the one to apologise first. And for him to reach out first and apologise? Topping it all with a sad face? Oh, Jungkook was feeling like shit, that’s for sure.
You
- Sorry bun, I’m with the physio
- Talk to you later?
Jeon Bun
- :(
“Fuck,” you whispered before throwing your phone to the side, looking back to ask a clearly interested Amanda “How much longer, Am?”
“I can make it shorter if you tell me how you ended up being the love interest in a love triangle.”
“A… what?”
“Taehyung and Jungkook? The Jeon Jungkook? There’s too much you’re hiding from me, love.”
“You can’t be serious,” you laughed, shaking your head in disbelief. What was Am even saying? You? A love triangle? With two of the most irritating men you had ever met? Yeah no, hard pass. You couldn’t even remember the last time you were romantically interested in someone, let alone being interested in a douche bag who had been knowing you for years and another douche bag whose body count was higher than his age.
Absolutely not, thank you very much.
“Am you need to hang out more in the garage with us and see what happens in there. I can guarantee you, there’s no love triangle in my—”
The door busted open, Taehyung marching inside with a smug look on his face. “You would never guess how I got the code to— oh, hi Amanda!”
Your eyes darted between Taehyung and Amanda, then back again.
Fuck.
Your life had to be a social experiment, right?
“Oh, hi Taehyung! Long time no see.” Amanda slowly turned to you, her eyebrow raised in what was the most judgemental look you had ever seen her wear, her lips curled in a smirk. “You were saying, love?”
ok so, I don't know if it is inappropriate (and I sure as hell hope it isn't) but I've been thinking about the recent ask vani ( @writesvani ) received in regards of the pacing and the dynamics between her characters, and how said person had a very strong opinion in regards of the flow of the story and how jk × oc's relationship could (not) evolve.
I had to stop what I was doing and think about it for quite some time, and I came to the conclusion that literature (particularly modern literature) hasn't portrayed the complexity of life enough to make readers used to drastic changes, or at least not enough to make readers believe in writers who say: "hey, this is a character 1 × character 2 series, but it's hella complicated especially at first, and character 1 is still in love with character 3, but don't worry cause it's still a character 1 × character 2 series".
in this particular ask, anon said that the way the story is unfolding is not their cup of tea, which is completely valid, but my focus is on something else: are we really this detached from reality that we do not recognise life as a series of complex events chaining themselves one another? have we become machines who only see life in black and white, who do not recognise that anything could change anytime, that we do not have control whatsoever on the tricks of life?
long series are not for everyone. slow burns are not for everyone. characters having a life before meeting the desired love interest is not for everyone. but I just want you to remember that you can click off a story you don't like, you can block authors whose works do not resonate with you, you can avoid anything you don't like as freely as possible. but in real, day-to-day life? you need to be ready for complexity. for life-changing events happening in the blink of an eye. for life to be grey alongside black and white.
anyway, that's all.
I'm gonna go back to writing chapter 4 of HANS, go read chapter 3🧡
I just... I was writing chapter 4 of hans. I wrote a line that gave me an idea for future chapters. anyway, I just wrote one of the most gut wrenching scenes there will be in hans. and it's not even inherently negative, but it's filled with such a bittersweet feeling that now it hurts
