#reader x jeongguk | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

venusjeon · 6 months

Text

angel in the marble

after you fail to pickpocket him, the famous yet arrogant artist Jeon Jungkook takes you off the streets to make you his servant, and the more you know him, the more you realise he's not as detestable as everyone claims he is.

♔ PAIRING: michelangelo!jungkook x servant!reader

♔ GENRE: high renaissance au, angst, smut, humour

♔ WORD COUNT: 8k

♔ WARNINGS: homelessness, stealing, mild swearing/violence/drinking, 90% of this is bickering lmao, mentions of minor characters' death, jealousy and kinda possessiveness?, referenced unconsensual groping (not by jk), a bit of blasphemy, making out, groping, fingering, rough angry sexxx, choking, slapping

♔ AUTHOR'S NOTE: fun fact this is mostly historically accurate! jk's characterisation, the grocery list doodles, the sack of rome, the beef with his brother, the encounter with his rival (raphael)... are all taken from michelangelo's actual life, even some stuff is quoted from his letters lol. man was fanfic material.

1529, Rome

“How much for that one?”

“No, that one’s sold already.”

It was a lively morning. After days of heavy rainfall, those of high social class were eager to get out and meet under the gentle sun of spring, whose glare reflected on the precious stones of their jewellery; while those of low, out of necessity, couldn’t wait to reopen their businesses or set up their stalls and get back to work. You liked to eye them all as you strolled the streets of Rome.

“To whom?”

“Your friend Taehyung.”

“Agh… How much is that prick paying you?”

The point of the matter was that it was bustling, some colliding if they looked away from where they were going for more than a breath. It worked in your favour for it was then easier to make yourself scarce right after stealing bags of coins, such as those of the three men seemingly bargaining by a workshop’s entrance out of which a large block of marble was being dragged. Perfect.

“Three ducats.”

“Three?! He’s robbing you of two ducats. I’ll pay you the five it’s worth.”

You kept your head low as you approached the pair that seemed wealthier and with those stealthy hands of yours unfastened the bags tied to their belts. After all, pickpocketing was a skill you’d had under your own for some years now, so this was bound to go smoothly.

Because you didn’t realise there was a guardian with them, perhaps you’d grown arrogant.

“I’m sorry, maestro. It’s reserved.”

“But it’ll become a waste in his possession!”

As you slipped away into the crowd, mouth watering at the fresh-baked bread you were going to devour as soon as bought, this brown dog leaped up at you out of nowhere, ignoring your desperate efforts to shake him off. If anything, they caused him to bark.

No, no, no…

The three men turned to the scene playing out not so far, and thinking his dog was bothering you one of them shouted, “Bam, come here, boy!” but as he obediently ran to his owner, you were too slow to hide the bags in your hands. It only took the pair a second to make them out, check whether theirs still hung on their belts, find them not, work out you’d stolen them, look back up, and find you not either.

Of course, you’d made your escape by then, dived into the sea of people and swum through them as quickly as possible, only stopping when you reached an empty vaulted alley to catch your breath.

That was ridiculously close. If you weren’t more careful next–

Your train of thought was interrupted by someone grabbing you by the arm from behind and pushing you against the nearest wall. A grunt accompanied the thud, and a gasp followed at the sight of the two men from before—dog included. Pinned in place, it’d be a bad idea to fight back or attempt to run away again. Fuck’s sake.

“Do you know what happens to thieves?” the one cornering you asked so close that when the cold breeze rustled his hair, some strands grazed your face. You looked away to avoid the tickling rather than out of fear, or so you wanted to believe. “They have a hand cut off. Seems fair, doesn’t it, Jimin?”

By contrast, that Jimin didn’t look intimidating, otherwise still catching his breath from the chase, but he did snatch the coin bags from your hands. “It doesn’t have to be so, maestro. We got our money back. She’s… just a girl.”

“And that exempts her of crime?”

“Please, don’t report me,” you begged, humiliating as though it was.

“Why shouldn’t we?” the maestro scoffed. Maestro… You were being threatened by a damned craftsman, the other one probably his assistant.

“Because I don’t want to lose a hand?”

“Oh, but we wanted to lose money, did we?” You rolled your eyes, and he released his grip only to step away. “Take us to your father, brat. He’ll answer for you.”

It took you a moment to respond, “I don’t have a father, or anyone... Only I can answer for my actions.”

“You’re a beggar?” Jimin asked, taking pity as he studied your appearance for the first time. Dishevelled hair, tattered dress, unpleasant smell… Yes, they should’ve guessed.

“She doesn’t beg, though, does she? She steals.”

“Only from cunts.”

His head snapped to meet your glare, and Jimin laughed, “You seem to not know whom you speak to.” He could be Jesus for all you cared. Uninterested, you petted the dog, Bam, seeing as he’d leapt up at you again. “This is Jeon Jungkook.”

You froze. The Jeon Jungkook? The famous artist who painted and sculpted for the Pope? Whom faraway kings and even emperors commissioned? The one whose genius was said to be changing the world?

At the lack of attention, Bam returned to his master, and that snapped you out of your shock to ask, “Then why do you whine?” The two men frowned, having clearly expected an apology paired with the usual bootlicking. “As if you need that bag more than I!”

“What nerve,” he scoffed again, making you wince by grabbing your arm tighter than before and starting to drag you into the next street. “You’re going straight to the authorities!”

“Wait,” Jimin intervened, thank God. “Weren’t you in need of a servant, maestro?”

“So?”

Jimin pointed at you with his gaze as though it was obvious. “You’re in need of a servant, she’s in need of a roof.”

“I would rather have a hand cut off.”

“I would rather have her hand cut off too.”

Jungkook tried to resume dragging you, but Jimin blocked his way with a soft smile. “What’s your name?”

“Y/N…”

“Do you know how to take care of a household?” Slowly, you nodded, melancholy engulfing you at the memory of cooking or sweeping the floor with your mother once upon a time. Somehow, she always found a way to make chores fun... “Then you qualify for the job. You’ll have three meals a day and a bed to sleep on. And you, maestro, a servant who’ll work her hardest, lest you fire her and she ends up in the streets again.”

Both you and Jungkook reluctantly glanced at each other. Truth be told, you didn’t prefer losing a hand to living with him, you just didn’t like him. Despite being a celebrity, he was a stranger. It just wouldn’t work.

But then, why were you holding your breath, hoping he’d accept?

“We shouldn’t have left Namjoon’s workshop. The marble is about to be delivered,” he said walking away. The air left your lungs in disappointment. It seemed you were to remain a stray cat. Jimin pressed his plump lips apologetically as he gave you enough coins to buy that bread, and you nodded, grateful all the same for his trying. You watched him rush to Jungkook’s side but when this one saw him, he turned around. “Hurry up, brat. If Taehyung gets that block of marble, I’ll not take you in.”

Since the first day, you could attest to Jeon Jungkook’s nature being as rough and uncouth as the rumours claimed, and after living alone with him for two months still believed gossip such as that he’d got the scar on his left cheek in a tavern fight—in which, if you’d chanced to be present, you would’ve rooted for the other individual.

It appeared it wasn’t just others Jungkook was harsh to. However rich his talent had turned him, he behaved like a poor man, consuming food and drink sparingly and out of necessity instead of pleasure, spending only the money required to live decently, sleeping little in order to work on commissions from dawn to midnight…

Why he chose to take little care of himself was a mystery to someone who previously had not been allowed a choice, even if putting work before all was in order to thwart Kim Taehyung’s plans of ruining his career, as he claimed. You doubted his rival was obsessed with him so, but had learned to agree with whatever Jungkook grumbled to avoid disputes. Most times.

Deep down, you had a feeling your boldness amused him. Who else dared get on his nerves?

“I think all you artists fluttering around the Pope are no more than slaves to money,” you let drop once while making his bed. Bam was sleeping peacefully under the window, while Jungkook leaning against the door’s frame behind you, offended to the core. He could help, you thought, or at least loosen my corset a little…

“I, a slave? I’ll be damned… There is an angel inside every block of marble, and I’ll have you know I carve to set it free.”

“Is it the angel that charges the Pope, then, master?” You could feel him barely restraining the urge to throw you out the window, smiled as you finished smoothing out the blankets.

“You missed a wrinkle there.”

Hands on your hips and frown on your brows, you examined the neatly arranged coverings of his bed. “Where?”

“On your face,” he muttered before making his leave.

Not his finest jibe, but the metaphor did stay with you. An angel inside the marble… It perhaps applied to Jungkook himself, though you’d never tell him.

One instance it came to mind was recently, when his assistants and apprentices were invited over for dinner.

Usually, he’d tell you which meals he liked and you’d ask at the marketplace which ingredients to buy, but now that about ten meals were to be cooked a list was needed. So there he sat on his desk in his study, inking said list as you waited in front of him, fiddling with the undershirt that peeked out of your dress’ sleeves. Given that your eyes were fixed on it, you only learned Jungkook was done when the sound of his quill scratching the paper ceased.

“Be back no later than dusk,” he ordered, “I bet there are still Germans and Spaniards lurking about.”

A year had passed since the Sack of Rome, but the mention of it sent a shiver of fear down your spine. Whatever the political reasons for it, you hated everyone involved, for Hell itself would’ve been a more beautiful sight to behold those nine months when the Tiber’s waters remained painted red…

You were lucky to make it through. Your family wasn’t.

“Yes, master.”

“Here,” he said handing you the paper, then picked another letter from a pile of correspondence he’d been going through before your arrival. Jungkook was about to snap its wax seal when he looked up to realise you hadn’t moved an inch. “Why are you here? Away with you!” He saw the reason in the way you avoided eye contact. “You can’t read, can you?” Met with a silence charged with embarrassment, he leaned back in his chair and sighed, “Give me the list.”

Getting hold of the quill again, Jungkook began… doodling?

You tilted your head but couldn’t see well what he was drawing until he finished and returned the list to you. Then, your lips parted. Each item on the list was illustrated next to its name: ten loaves of bread, a jug of wine, tortellini, four anchovies, two fennel soups…

“I’ll teach you to read when I have time. This will do for now.”

“You’d do that?” For me?

Jungkook ignored you, before he went back to reading his letters complimenting the good gesture with an irritated, “Hurry up.”

That night his co-workers arrived one by one, Jimin the first. The sight of him when you opened the door brightened up your mood.

Unlike a certain someone he was always sweet to you, genuinely interested to know how you fared even if you were just a servant. He claimed that mattered not to him, that you were both commoners and thus equals.

“Look at this place, it’s spotless! And you know I’m furtive, so I won’t get in your way,” you told Jimin as you escorted him through a hallway, bright from the torches hung on the walls that you’d lit up earlier.

He laughed, “I cannot make you my servant, Y/N, you’re maestro’s.”

“But he’s going to drive me mad… To tell you one of many examples, he often falls asleep in his clothes, and who but I is to take his boots off so they don’t get the sheets dirty? If the chalk on his fingers or the dust from the chiseling on his hair won’t already. Bam is far cleaner…”

Jungkook had a workshop he barely set foot in, preferred his team made use of it instead to not be bothered by their idiocy. His words. So it was in a chamber on the ground floor of this house he gave way to artistic insanity. In your book, that meant constant cleaning.

Jimin looked at you fondly. “Sounds nightmarish.”

“It truly is!”

As soon as the two of you entered the dining hall, Bam ran from Jungkook’s side by the fireplace to Jimin, who was as excited to see him.

“Good night, maes–”

“Do you think I’m deaf, ungrateful brat?” Jungkook interrupted him to bark at you. “Rome is full of people begging to get a piece of me, so if you don’t like it here, I’ll just get someone else!”

“You say that and yet keep me like a prisoner!”

“As if you don’t have it better here than anywhere you’ve burdened with your presence before!”

“There, there…” Jimin interjected to de-escalate, kneeling to better stroke Bam. “Maestro, I’ve seen your latest sketch of the Virgin and Child. She resembles Y/N.”

Both you and Jungkook failed to fight off the embarrassment, gazes unable to find a place to settle. Sitting down on the large table, he explained, “It was just one time… I had used Yoongi as a model, but the Madonna looked too masculine... and rather than going through the trouble of finding some girl and hiring her, I had Y/N pose for me… So what! Why bring it up out of nowhere…”

“Because maybe you just need a bit of distance from time to time. With permission, I too would have Y/N pose for m–”

“Absolutely not.”

“Now, why the hell not?” you groaned stamping your foot, startling poor Bam. Hope had been born inside you in a second and cruelly crushed in the next.

“Because I say so. And watch your tone with me.” As usual, the mutual glaring would trick anyone into thinking the next step would be murder. Jimin, who knelt there awkwardly, certainly thought so, at least until the bell rang. “Now go answer the door!”

What happened later, though, rendered the fury Jungkook had evoked in your heart nonexistent and instead seized the thing in a clasp of distress.

In the morning, he walked in when you were sweeping the kitchen. At once you forced the sobs to stop and turned around so he wouldn’t see you wipe your tears.

“It’s past nine, where’s breakfast?” he asked in shock that you hadn’t even started making it, the table there empty.

You swore under your breath before leaving the broomstick leaning against the nearest wall, flushed face kept out of Jungkook’s sight, then in a haste fetched a plate, a knife, and a leftover bread loaf. “Apologies, master, I forgot. I’ll be upstairs in a minute.”

Sniffling betrayed you, at which Jungkook frowned. “Are you crying?”

Great, the question just about especially designed to make one well up. Not trusting your voice anymore, you shook your head. Jungkook approached, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look away from the task at hand, now cutting a few slices of the bread.

“Have you broken something?” You shook your head again, the suppressed sobs making your chin tremble. Jungkook took a deep breath before asking with a surprisingly soothing tone, “Then what’s wrong?”

“You won’t believe me.”

“Try me.”

Within an hour, he’d summoned a meeting consisting of all who’d attended dinner the previous night.

A seemingly calm Jungkook was sat at the head of the table, elbows sunk on it and fingers interlocked. You stood behind him, head still low out of shame. A tense silence had fallen in the chamber some time ago, and sick of it, Jimin shattered it.

“Have you anything to tell us, maestro?”

“I was waiting for Biagio to do so.”

The man was one of Jungkook’s favourite assistants who had worked with him for years, even longer than Jimin. And if it was possible for your position to be trickier, he belonged to some noble family.

“Me? But I’ve nothing to say, maestro.”

Jungkook leaned back in his chair. “My servant will, then. Y/N?”

Bastard. If you are going to fire me, why make me go through this?

“Last night, w-when I left this hall to go refill the wine jug… Messer Biagio followed me into the kitchen, and… h-he trapped me from behind, and started t-to touch me…” Your vision soon blurred, hence why you couldn’t see clearly how concerned Jimin was for you, or how Biagio jumped up in outrage. “I managed to push him away, and ran upst–”

“How dare you slander me, wench? Maestro, you do not believe this!”

“Do I not?”

“She’s lying! I caught her stealing sketches from your study, likely to sell them, so she’s trying to get rid of me!”

You almost scoffed. Only an idiot would choose the one occasion guests had come over and her absence would be noticed to carry out a theft.

Jungkook tilted his head. “I thought you had nothing to say. Why would you keep such a thing just now?”

Biagio gulped. “I deemed it best to mention it later, in private... You won’t believe a pickpocket before an old friend, will you?”

Silence returned, your breath still as you saw all the assistants and apprentices visibly take pity on him. The only one who didn’t was Jimin, but even on his face there was a hint of hesitation. Jungkook’s, you couldn’t see from behind, but after an eternity he stood up and walked over only to put a hand on the shoulder of Biagio, who smiled in relief.

A quiet sob broke through your lips, heart sinking. You’d needed Jungkook to believe you in this. Not because of the consequences his protection as your master could save you from, but because, like it or not… he was the closest thing to family you had.

It turned out he did believe you, judging by the punch landed on Biagio’s jaw out of nowhere. And the next one on his cheekbone, and on his nose. Before everyone around the table had barely stood up to stop Jungkook, he’d already thrown Biagio down and straddled him, pulling his doublet’s collar in a close, tight grip as he continued beating him up. Blood was drawn, but for once, you didn’t mind having to scrub it later.

Jungkook’s influence trumped a whole noble house’s, you learned in the course of the months Biagio tried his mightiest and failed most miserably to have him arrested. Perhaps because of the Pope sitting on his shoulder.

That he’d taken your side was still hard to believe, all he’d grumbled with a shrug when you thanked him while tending to his wounds from the fight being, “I’d been waiting for the chance. I always thought Biagio was a weasel.”

With the matter resolved, life returned to normal—well, whatever that meant in Jeon Jungkook’s household. Because calling for you at the top of his lungs like a madman was not normal. The first time he’d done it you’d raced downstairs, afraid something horrible had happened, only for him to have you close a window as it was getting chilly. Devil rot him. You rushed no longer after that, much to his complaints.

Today, he didn’t notice right away when you appeared under the cased opening, and good thing he didn’t, for he was polishing a bust with sandpaper… shirtless.

Product of hours carving stone into his desired shape or occasionally beating someone up, he could brag of having muscles, which the current task had covered in a layer of sweat and dust. The way they flexed with each movement had you compelled, wanting to reach out, feel if his skin was as hot as the blood pumping through your veins faster and faster. Then your gaze moved to the bust and whatever spell you were under broke.

Hardly an angel was that widowed noblewoman, whom you wished had stayed trapped inside a block of marble. Her name was Madonna Maddalena, and she’d come some weeks past to make a commission covered in pearls, gold, and boldness.

“My friends refused to accompany me today. You’re said to be… disagreeable, which I’m sure is untrue. However, all of them do want to know if you’re as fine-looking as is also rumoured, maestro” she told Jungkook within minutes of meeting him, still by the entrance!

Now you can tell them he’s not, you bit your tongue before it remarked, as this wasn’t Jimin but a patron not to be scared away by your bickering. It wouldn’t be true anyway. All your master lacked in manners, he made up for with looks… Which you’d never say out loud. You’d never say either that he looked even better when irked.

“I’ve heard many rumours about myself, most of them nonsense. My appearance was involved in none.”

She smiled seductively. “I suppose I’ll have to be the one to spread them.”

“The weather is pleasant today,” Jungkook changed the subject, flustered beneath the formal demeanour. “Shall we have wine in the garden?” You left to prepare it not before catching Maddalena raise her brow at you in disapproval. She must’ve been able to tell you thought she was a pompous cunt.

The beautiful flowers you cared for tried their best outside, but the air didn’t get any better.

Sat around a small table, Maddalena explained she wanted a bust of herself by his talented hand to decorate the main hall of her palazzo. You served them wine, not really listening until Jungkook started playing hard to get. The hundred times you’d told him it wasn’t a good tactic to make his labour out to be too prestigious had apparently fallen on deaf ears.

“Any other artist could carry this out, Madonna. I am working for the Pope these days…” he subtly scolded her, a mere mortal, for wasting his precious time. And he wondered why he had a reputation for being arrogant.

Maddalena put his thoughts into plain words, “So why should you stoop to taking commissions from an insignificant widow?”

“Correct,” you said under your breath, luckily heard by none from the background, where you stood holding a wine jug until the madonna raised her cup and you approached to refill it.

“It is then fortunate I’m to marry a nephew of the Pope’s.”

Swayed by her future influence, Jungkook smiled back. “So it is.”

“But not for another week. ‘Till then, I belong to no man.” The suggestion in her tone almost drove you to spill wine all over her. No, better yet: order Bam to sic on her. He’d do it.

Just, who did this woman think she was? And why did Jungkook not kick her out right afterwards? It made you wonder whether he’d enjoyed the flirtation. Whether he would’ve been the one to take things further had his inconvenient servant not been present. It was common for men to have affairs and lovers, but it didn’t sit well with you that Jungkook might. Not that you ever imagined him doing any of that, for goodness’ sake–

“What took you so long?”

Jungkook’s voice brought you back to the present, under the cased opening.

“I was lazing about, as always,” you quoted his favourite false reprimand, making him roll his eyes, your own dropping to the floor when he walked closer.

“In that case, prepare a bath for me.”

“Yes, master.”

You sighed at all the work ahead. That being a servant was worlds better than living in the streets didn’t mean you looked forward to collecting gallons of water from a well, carrying them back, heating them, transferring them to a tub, then washing Jungkook—because you did wash him.

Biagio had hurt his left shoulder bad and ever since, he’d needed assistance in certain activities. Curious how he could otherwise chisel a goddamned bust without problem.

Jungkook’s full nudity only made you blush if you stopped scrubbing, so knelt with tucked up sleeves before the wooden tub he was reclined on, scrubbing away the dirt on his skin with lavender-scented soap you were. Maybe all the stupid feelings you’d been suffering lately stemmed from there…

Head resting on the edge, he was exhausted from the long day of work, taking your rubbing as a relaxing massage. You, however, couldn’t ignore the stinging guilt, what with the scar on his shoulder right in front of your face. He probably felt your breathing on it.

“I’m sorry you got hurt…”

Jungkook fought heavy lids only to see you avoid him. Allowing yourself to be vulnerable in front of him was embarrassing, as when he’d caught you crying, but he didn’t take advantage of the fact to humiliate you. Jungkook may be an ogre, but he wasn’t cruel.

“I’ve received worse for less,” he assured you in a calm, low voice. It sounded soothing to your ears.

“That, I don’t doubt,” you scoffed, glancing at his other scar on the cheek. “Did you also get that one in defence of some lady?”

“You’re nowhere close to a lady.” It could be done, you mused. Drowning him. “This was courtesy of my brother.”

“You have a brother?” It dawned on you how little you knew of him. Surely, most had heard it all about the divine Jeon Jungkook, but you’d never cared enough to learn past the shell of gossip, even after months of living with him. In fairness, he’d never asked about you either. You preferred it that way.

“Brothers,” he corrected you. “The one who did this to me was a wayward fool. Had to teach him a lesson.”

“Looks like he taught one to you.”

“I left with a scratch, he with a limp.” The conception of two brothers hurting each other so harshly widened your eyes for a second, and Jungkook noticed, for he added, “He was whoring around, wasting the money I worked hard to send, bullying our other brothers as well.”

Much made sense about Jungkook all of a sudden. Not his personality, that was incomprehensible. But why he killed himself to earn money and yet barely spent it… He had a family to provide for. Once again, you were reminded of his metaphor. Could an angel be in there?

Carrying on washing Jungkook, you dragged the sponge over to his neck. Then his collarbones, his chest, his abs just peaking above the water... They did look like a sculpture’s, especially wet and soaped, reminiscent of polished marble when the light of the torches reflected on them. Swallowing hard, the back of your fingers gingerly graced Jungkook’s muscles, both soft and firm. Slippery. Whatever possessed you to keep feeling them, you lacked the will to expel from your body, and so without realising your grip on the sponge loosened until it fell to float away, fingertips now free to roam over his abs.

You were slowly trailing downwards, past the water’s surface, when your wrist was seized and held in the air in a warning manner, the startle almost making you scream.

Sat upright, Jungkook was glaring at you so fiercely you feared for your life. But he didn’t say anything and instead just breathed hard, jaw clenched… almost as if he was holding back. Your rising heartbeat was deafening in the silence waiting for something to happen, anything, but what did wasn’t what a side of you anticipated with excitement.

Jungkook just let go of your wrist and returned to his previous position, and you got hold of the sponge and finished washing him, albeit holding your breath the entire time.

Days later, you came dangerously close to being fired.

The Pope had summoned Jungkook—something about a portrait commission—and you were to carry his bag filled with sketches for him due to his shoulder injury. As you navigated the ever-busy streets of Rome with him, the cold autumn breeze made you regret not putting on an overgown. The cioppa you’d bought with your own salary and not stolen. It brought a smile to your lips that faded at the realisation your mother would’ve reminded you to put it on before going out.

The sorrow pestering you turned to confusion when Jungkook stopped walking and tsked, telling you loud enough to be heard by all, “Look at him, the chief of police, with such an assemblage.”

A well-dressed man and what appeared to be his entourage walked in your direction, halting near enough. You didn’t have to ask to know this was his rival, the renowned painter Kim Taehyung.

“Whereas you, like an executioner, walk alone,” he mocked Jungkook, then noticed you standing behind him like a timid child. “Not completely, my mistake. Maestro, where in your barren soil did you plant such a flower?” He walked over to you, intentionally bumping Jungkook’s wounded shoulder as he passed, causing him to grunt lowly. From up close one was bound to marvel at how handsome Taehyung was, but you didn’t need proximity to tell he was a prick. Miles away, you would’ve known. “Why don’t you come work for me, flower? I’ll make you my muse.”

Jungkook scoffed again, “What, for your horseshit paintings? She’d be a fool to.”

Taehyung turned around to face him, feigning confusion with a smile. “But, maestro, how could they be so if you were once heard saying that all I have in art, I got from you?”

"You naturally have to resort to plagiarising my master’s genius if all you do is horseshit,” you countered, earning surprised looks from every man present, some laughs too, you were proud to say. Jungkook was certainly smirking. Taehyung opened his mouth, but you walked past him uninterested before a response came out of it.

“Good girl,” Jungkook laughed while leaving the crime scene, and for some reason your cheeks burned hot.

The incident happened once inside the Vatican.

Its grandiose corridors alone made you feel small, too unimportant to walk them, whereas Jungkook did so with determination, knowing he belonged at the top of the world. What with your tempestuous relationship, it was easy to forget he was famous throughout Europe. His feet would still never be kissed by you. Someone had to humble the man, right?

At some point the two of you arrived at a door flanked by guards, and averse, you grabbed the sleeve of Jungkook’s doublet.

“Do I have to go in?”

“Too good for the Pope, are you?” He shook you off. “Come on.”

“Damn you…” you muttered.

“What did you just say to me?”

“After you, master.”

Telling himself he’d be late if he scolded you, Jungkook turned and nodded at the guards, who opened the door of a chamber whose walls were frescoed with angels and saints, likely by Taehyung, giving off the impression one was in Heaven. When you saw him sat on a golden chair, old and grey, enjoying the tune of a lute player, you felt as though you’d just entered Hell.

The audience lasted for ever. While you stood by the door, Jungkook showed the Pope some sketches of the portrait for him to choose his favourite and then they talked and talked of politics. All you could do was fix your gaze somewhere on the floor and sigh.

“Yes, Your Holiness, this is the servant I mentioned…” A frown proceeded your looking up to see Jungkook somewhat embarrassed, scratching his nose as if to hide his face. He talked of you to others? Doubtless to complain…

With a sweet voice as if he was talking to a little girl, the Pope asked you, “What is your name?”

“None of your business, Your Holiness.”

The musician’s tune ceased abruptly, allowing Jungkook’s faint gasp to be heard. Then fell a short silence spent by the Pope blinking, taken aback. “I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me.”

Jungkook was quick to fake a laugh, though sweat formed at his temples. “A jest! She meant no offence, Your Holiness, but to make you laugh.”

You held the Pope’s glare in defiance, indifferent to the fact he was the most powerful man in the whole of Christendom.

By some miracle, he let it go, and you left that chamber minutes later with your head as yet attached to your body. Your arm wouldn’t be for much longer, though, given Jungkook was forcibly dragging you all the way out to the streets, pushing you into the first alley he saw.

“Are you out of your mind?!” he shouted, towering over you menacingly. Unlike the day you’d met, you weren’t scared, rather furious as him as you stood your ground. “That was the Pope, you fool!”

“So?”

Jungkook was in utter disbelief. “He could’ve ordered your execution– mine too!”

“Well, nothing happened!”

“Nothing?! I’m sure to fall out of favour!” He paced around, anxiety quickening his breath. “Years of pouring my soul into my craft, of grovelling before the right people, all thrown away! Good God, your attitude may cost me everything…”

“And what about me?! Everything lost to me does not matter?!”

Jungkook stopped to frown. “What the hell are you talking about?”

It was now you who walked up to him. “I didn’t have a job, or a reputation, or admirers. I had only a family, and I never wished for anything else! That monster you work for took them from me. When the foreigners’ armies came and everyone rushed to Castel Sant’Angelo, he gave the order to close the gates as soon as he was safe behind them! You must have been there with him, weren’t you? Well, we weren’t. We were left outside to be slaughtered. And I wish I had been, like my parents, so I didn’t have to suffer the likes of you any longer!”

Tears were streaming down your face by the end, Jungkook just staring back at you. It didn’t surprise him that your parents were dead or that they’d been killed during the Sack, but that it was so deep a wound left festering in your heart that you didn’t mind being put out of misery. He surmised your disrespectful behaviour towards him was also fruit of your pain, especially if you deemed him an ally of the one who caused it.

“The few things I own… They’re wasted on me. Throw them away or give them to your next servant,” you sobbed, taking for granted you were fired. Anyone with half a brain would indeed have you dismissed, and part of you knew it was bound to happen, that you would go back to breaking in fucking churches to spend the night.

So you turned around into the main street, set on wandering until your legs became too sore not to collapse. With any luck, a carriage would run over you. But warmth then surrounded your hand, and you looked down to see Jungkook’s holding it tight enough to force you to halt. Though still mad, a hint of compassion sparkled in his eyes.

“Let’s… Let us just go home.”

Home. His house had felt so for a while now, truth be told. Himself too.

After that, you non-verbally agreed on a ceasefire—avoiding quarrels, that is, which was quite the task for both.

Such as now that Jungkook had you inking down a letter in his name. First of all, did you look like a scribe? If you’d known in advance the lazy arse would teach you to read and write for this, you’d have chosen to remain illiterate. And second, this was your short break before making dinner, intended to be spent playing with Bam. The poor thing was also in the study, at least being stroked by his owner, who was sat beside you on the desk.

“… I send you my regards, may God keep you from all harm. Jeon Jungkook in Rome,” he finally finished dictating, and you recording. “Give it to me, I’ll seal it.”

He was melting the wax with which to do so when the bell rang, to his surprise. Sighing, you stood up and went to open the door to whom turned out to be Jimin. The sight of him brightened you up, and yours stretched his lips into a smile.

“Evening, Y/N.”

“Good evening! I didn’t know the master was expecting you.”

“He isn’t…” You welcomed him in, brows joining at how he continuously chewed on his aforementioned lip and breathed deep through his nose as he followed you. Had something happened…? A decision to eavesdrop was made en route to the study.

Though Jimin requested for you to stay once there, and nothing could have prepared you for the reason why.

“This actually concerns Y/N…” You and Jungkook exchanged confused looks, him leaning against the desk and crossing arms as though he didn’t like the sound of that. Jimin fixed his already perfect clothes before addressing him, “I’ve come to ask for her hand in marriage.” Your jaw dropped. “I know it’s sudden at the lack of previous courtship, but I thought I should ask for your permission before engaging in it, maestro. She’s a lovely girl… and I think she’d be happy as my wife. Worry not, I won’t ask for a dowry or for her to stop working… Although on second thought, fewer hours of service would be ideal.”

This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be happening.

Jungkook must be thinking the same, for he squinted to ask, “Are you drunk?”

“N-No, of course not.”

“Are you sure? You want to marry a servant with little to her name.” He had a point, so you weren’t offended. If politics weren’t the reason for a union, did this mean… Jimin had feelings for you?

“Maestro, you say it as if I were a lord,” he chuckled. “I don’t care about Y/N’s possessions, I’ll provide for her anyway. I’ve… always been fond of her. And I dare say she shares the sentiment.”

Betrayal hid safely behind a look that asked if there was any truth to that. Obviously not! There was no romance in your own fondness for Jimin. If anything, you had thought he saw you as a younger sister to look after, therefore as a protective older brother you saw him. But so shocked were you still that no words managed to come out, and Jungkook’s gaze shifted back to Jimin.

“I’ll think about it. You may go.”

A curt tone was the norm for Jungkook, it was not being granted his blessing that disappointed Jimin. He knew for a fact he was an honourable man, so why wouldn't he entrust you to him?

“Quite well… I’ll show myself out.” he uttered, before making his leave failing to hide his low spirit by giving you one last shy smile you hadn’t the heart to return.

An awkward silence filled the air that even Bam daren’t break. Only once the front door was heard shutting did you walk closer to Jungkook.

“You won’t agree to this, will you?”

“Why shouldn’t I? I have to get rid of you at some point.”

“Rid of me? Like I’m a burden?” you asked, voice rising. How a servant could be so was unknown to you until, like wooden ship toys did when you’d submerge them in a bucket of water as a child, certain guesses surfaced in your thoughts. Trying to pickpocket him, the constant clashing, Biagio, that bath, the Pope… Yes, you may perhaps be described as a burden. But you didn’t want to leave. With a calmer tone, you pleaded, “I’ll behave from now on. I won’t cause any more trouble, I swear.”

Jungkook didn’t deign to look your way as he left, followed by Bam. “You have to marry at some point, Y/N. Otherwise people will gossip.”

Since when did he care about what people said of him? And why should you?

Winter having dropped its anchor, nightfall arrived early. Not early enough, you brooded as you cooked dinner, longing for the day to end once and for all. With any hope, all of this was a nightmare and upon waking up in the morning life would go back to normal. You didn’t even know why you wanted to stay with Jungkook, as the occasions in which you’d begged Jimin to employ you to leave this house were countless. The only certain thing was that you were upset.

Later, after washing all plates and cups, you began to put off all torches lighting the house, finding out in the hall that Jungkook hadn’t moved from the seat he’d dined in. You considered carrying on with your job and leaving him in the dark, but he wouldn’t find it as funny. Instead, you stood before him.

“Will that be all, master?”

The coldness in your expression made him sigh, “Y/N–”

“I shall retire, then.” You turned to leave but were made to stop in your tracks.

“It’s an advantageous proposal for you,” he lectured to whom he must believe an idiot. “Jimin works for me, he’s wealthy. A better match than you could ever aspire to. And he asks for no dowry because he doesn’t want money, he wants you…” His words were tainted with resentment. “He’ll take good care of you.”

Skirt of your dress swirling along, you faked a smile. “If you think so, master, then it must be so.”

He shook his head as he leaned back in defeat. “Suit yourself, but I won’t be the one to reject Jimin. You crush his heart.”

A laugh escaped you. “If you genuinely cared about him, you wouldn’t let him marry a woman in love with–” Oh no. It only hit you as you were saying it.

Jungkook had appeared annoyed, but now he was mad. “Who?” He stood up abruptly—chair’s feet scratching against the floor making you wince—and walked so close you were backed against the wall, face forced to turn to a side. In a low, deep voice, he repeated, less as a question and more as an order this time, “Who.”

There was no way in the nine circles of Hell you’d say it, when you didn’t want to believe it in the first place. For fuck’s sake, why? Jungkook only ever made you want to get away from him. That was the case right now, but then… why were your feet frozen?

Some unreasonable part of you seemed to have prevailed upon the others, casting away all resistance from your body and allowing yourself to indulge in Jungkook’s proximity. You met his eyes without fear, held his dark gaze. It didn’t take him long to work it out, yet he kept close, so close your unsteady breaths mingled, the effect akin to intoxication. He was visibly trying to hold back, telling himself it’d be a bad idea, but you prayed he wouldn’t care.

By God or the Devil, your prayers were heard.

Jungkook finally smashed his lips into yours, devouring them with a hunger you shared and felt growing as he gripped your waist to press you against him. A minute ago, you wouldn’t have imagined his tongue belonged inside your mouth, swirling around your own, and now you wanted it all over your body. As if reading your mind, Jungkook broke the ardent kiss to move down to your neck, which he licked painfully slowly before sucking hard, making you hiss with pleasure. He knew that would leave a mark, the bastard. You wondered if it was meant for Jimin, so he’d see you were Jungkook’s, and in such case you didn’t mind, let your eyelids close to enjoy it.

Steered by the lust possessing you, one hand grabbed his soft hair in a fistful, keeping his head in place where he was sweetly abusing your neck, while the other travelled southwards until it reached his crotch and held it over the trousers, feeling his cock stiffen. Jungkook groaned—a vibration to your skin—in retaliation lifting your skirt. You’d thought he'd take his time, tease you, but after ensuring you were wet enough by gliding his middle finger along your core, he slid it inside and began making beckoning motions.

“Master…” you moaned, legs shaking. Jungkook forsook your neck to pull back, watch how you struggled to keep it together as he added another finger, curling and uncurling them both, hitting all the right places, and unwilling to give him that satisfaction without consequences you groped his erection with the same vigour. Although he was in good control of his expression, his breath quivered against your lips, so he kissed them again, biting hard into your lower one.

He exhaled, “You’re driving me to sin…”

Indeed, the same fingers that held the brushes when he painted religious artwork were buried deep inside your cunt, bringing you the most sinful ecstasy. It made you chuckle. Jungkook took that as the mockery it was and, crossed, pulled his fingers out of you to drag you by the arm to the edge of the table, where he had you sit. Without delay he lifted your skirt again, only this time he also pulled down his trousers to reveal his cock, thick and throbbing, which he pumped as he watched you spread your legs eagerly, ready to take all of him.

With his free hand Jungkook cupped your cheek, thumb caressing your lower lip, coated with saliva and reddened still from when he’d bit it. He could sense your desire, that you craved him inside, had for a while. Desperately. And however much tempted he was to make you beg for it, his own arousal led his cock to your entrance and eased it inside already, another groan hitting the back of his bared teeth. You didn’t have time to gasp, his thrusts so quick they earned only moans, so wonderful did it feel.

Jungkook’s hand on your cheek then wrapped around your neck. “Do you know how often I’ve fantasised strangling you?”

You chuckled again as you slapped him across the face. Jungkook halted his movements in shock, glared at you. “And I slapping you?”

It took him a moment, but he scoffed and pushed you back so that you were lying down, climbing next atop you, confident that the wooden table was sturdy enough to hold both. So legs hooked around his torso and arms around his neck, you welcomed his thrusts, rough enough to make your eyes water. But it felt heavenly, how he ravished you... The mutual irritation and tension building up for over half a year translated into indescribable pleasure.

He kissed you again, flicking his tongue against yours as he pounded into you without mercy. Overwhelmed by the sensation, all you could do to express you were nearing your limit was sink your nails into Jungkook’s biceps at each side of you, moan inside his mouth. He took the hint and fucked you as fast as his body would allow, within mere seconds your walls clenching tight around him. The sight of you collapsing under him, overcome with bliss, made him reach his own highest shortly, spurting his warm seed inside you.

As his movements gradually ceased, so did your panting. Before a complete silence fell, you asked, “Am I still to marry Jimin?”

Jungkook grabbed your face and growled against your pouted lips, “You’re not going anywhere.”

#bts au #jeon jungkook #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader #jungkook imagine #bts jungkook #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #bts #bts x reader #bts fanfiction #bts scenarios #bangtan imagine #bts smut #jeon jungkook scenarios #bts fic #jeongguk #bangtan #bts x you

5K notes · View notes

busanboykoo · 7 months

Text

Champagne Confetti ⋆ j.jk

summary ⋆ “you won't regret me, champagne confetti” or maybe just jungkook wants you to tell him what you want him to do to you.

pairing ⋆ racer!jk x reader

genre ⋆ smüt, a little plot, fluff?

warning ⋆ püssy whipped!himbo!kook, they’re so in lovvve but jungkook is much more in love!! fingëring, reader is pathetically horny, messy make out with reader’s püssy, puthay eating. squirting??? lover jungkook always, cüssing & overstimulation oh and mention of his brow piercing cause why not?!!

notes ⋆ ok so i just got back to writing smut aaand it’s been a while so wait for me until i improvise back to what i used to right!! and also a huge thanks to clover lover @dollfaceksj for beta-ing ⭐️ ily!! thank u sm <3 — word count ⋆ 2.5k !!

“I want you.”

These three words were the one that put you under this situation.

Right under him as he settled himself between your legs. Everything about now felt hot. The AC is on full power but the heat you’re feeling is hotter than anything.

Your brows are cinched when Jungkook places his hand on your thighs, the rough skin of his palm on your soft skin smoothly, pressing and kneading on the flesh. He is comfortably kneeling between your legs, his control face now relaxed.

“Tell me what you want.” His eyes flick between yours and down to your exposed and soaked panties in return, biting on his scarlet lips. Your skin feels tingly, your forehead beginning to create a sheen of sweat. Your room is getting hotter and hotter and the AC is not helping at all.

You’re so quiet, not even sounding like the minx you were mere seconds ago. “C’mon, baby,” Jungkook encourages, wanting to hear you loud and clear for him.

You want him. You want everything all at once.

You still can’t erase the memories of him racing half an hour ago. How his skillful hand gripped the wheel, how his thighs flexed as he controlled the gas pedal or how he kept his jaw clenched and eyes focused on the foggy road with a stern yet soft, ‘hold on tight’ when he sped up before drifting for the hundredth time.

The ‘whoo-hoo’s and applause from both of your racer friends and their partners was a bonus — and him winning first place made you want him to do every sinful thing to you.

You want Jungkook so bad all over your skin. Want him to kiss you, want him to bite on your skin, bruise you with weeks-lasting love bites. You can’t just fathom the need that’s circulating through your blood.

A soft squeeze on your ankle makes your thoughts focus on Jungkook again, who is staring at you with need and desire. “Speak up, baby. Need to know what’s going on inside that pretty head of yours,” he taunts.

“You’ll do what I want?” Your voice is barely audible for you, airy with lust. You’re feeling the wetness of your own cunt between your thighs and you’re one-hundred percent sure Jungkook can spot the dark spot on your panties beneath your skirt.

Jungkook just gives you an eager nod.

“I’ll do whatever you want,” he whispers while leaning to give you a soft but calculated peck on your lips. “Just tell me what you want me to do and I’ll do it.” He sounds so confident, smirking against your lips when your breathy whimper surfaces out.

Jungkook always likes being on top. He makes weird excuses saying he wants to see how pretty you are when you break under him. He’s just whipped to see you in pleasure, fighting to fill your lungs with air and crying when you cum.

“Wa-want you to touch me.” You don’t like how your voice cracks, making Jungkook’s stupid smirk grow more. You’re so pathetic when you’re horny.

You hate it. He loves it.

“Touch you where?” he asks, coaxing his head a little. Oh, so, he’s teasing?

“Jeon, please.” You blink, your throat drying up without even getting started. “Need you s’much, I want to feel you!” Your voice raises to a higher pitch.

Jungkook thinks you’re very lucky he is way too needy or it’s would have ended up making you cry just by torturing and teasing. So, Jungkook pushes your legs further apart, making himself much more comfortable.

“Gonna start all the way from here.” He presses his finger against your covered clit, adding pressure. Your legs twitch, almost closing but his body stills you. “How about that?”

You just give him a weak nod, too overwhelmed from the sudden touch against your sensitive spot.

Jungkook starts to slide up and down your clothed pussy, making your panties grind against your folds, his index finger now coated with your arousal. “Words, pretty girl.”

You mewl when he adds even more pressure.

“Yes, please,” you moan, head falling back against your pillow.

Jungkook swallows the urge to just undress you and fuck you sensless. He needs to get you ready so he won’t hurt you. But mostly, he wants to taste you first. And so, your boyfriend removes his jacket from his body and tosses it somewhere across the room.

Latching his fingers from your sex, making you cry and annoyed with the sudden disappearance of his touch and your pleasure. “This needs to go.” He runs his fingers to your hips before he tugs your panties and skirt down to your ankle, chuckling when you quickly push them off, before tossing them aside by yourself.

“Easy, baby. I’m not going anywhere without making you cum,” he states, getting back to where he left you.

This time he doesn’t tease you, he just keeps your gaze locked with his as he settles himself between your legs on his stomach and drapes your left leg on his shoulder. He pushes your other leg further before pinning it with his strong grip.

You take a deep breath, ready to be blown to the sky and see the stars he wants you to. He starts kissing your inner thigh, his eyes still locked with yours.

“Jeon,” you threaten, wanting him to stop his silly games and finally go down on you. But your boyfriend just giggles, eyes squinting and brow piercing twitching.

“But it’s so fun to see you like this,” he persists, making your chest tighten with impatience.

“I swear, Jun— aah!” Your threat is short-lived when Jungkook wraps his lips around your pearl, making you jolt forward and almost sit up.

Starting off gently, his wet muscle just presses against your clit, not moving but just letting his saliva smear and trail its way to your pussy.

“Hmm, move.” You don’t understand why he won’t listen to you. He asked what you wanted and now that you’ve told him, he decides to pull this stunt?

Jungkook just watches you with a knitted brows, his jaw tensing from the position he’s set now. He decides it’s enough and starts to move his tongue in an ‘eight’ motion. You spread your thighs wider, silently begging for him to give you the pleasure you want.

He leans back, admiring how your slit leaks. You prop up by your elbows and your cheeks start to heat up when Jungkook just stares at your sex.

“No,” he says when you start to close your legs, feeling shy all over again. “Keep ‘em open.” He brings his index and middle to your folds before parting them, exposing your cunt to him.

“You’re staring weird!” You try to defend, attempting to swing your legs off his shoulders but he’s fast enough to roughly pull you back by your ankle and pin the other back.

“No. I'm admiring what’s mine.”

His words reach your ears and it makes you mentally roll your eyes. You want to play who-said-so but you also don’t want to end up being left without a blinding orgasm pending.

“Kook, please, that’s enoug–” You can’t even finish your words again when he’s back at your leaking sex. Rougher, more eager.

“Oh, God.” Your back arches, making Jungkook’s suction on your pussy disrupt which causes him to groan. You swear you can see the stars on the back of your eyelids now. He roughly pushes your body down by your pelvis and huffs a ‘stay still’ before grinding his nose into your sensitive folds.

Jungkook makes his way down to your slit, his tongue circling your tight hole. Your short but deep breath has his dick twitching under his leather pants, making the fabric even tighter than it is.

“Yes, yes! Yes, please, Kook.” Your gasping voice only makes it harder for him. His hand, the one that was pinning your leg to the bed, slides down to palm himself.

“Mhm.” He moans to your cunt and you cry out, your fingers tangled in your hair, trying to distract yourself from the sudden stimulation but it ends with you giving yourself even more pleasure.

He brings his hand from his pants right back to your sopping sex, fingers replacing what he couldn’t get in his mouth, sucking and fucking you both with his skillful mouth and finger.

This is extreme, everything becomes too much. More than what you can take. “Jungkook,” you sigh, throat drying up much more and only silent mewls leaving your lips.

“This what you wanted?” he asks, middle finger circling your entrance. “This all you wanted or still want more?” He’s so good with his words, it makes you cave.

You sound so brittle when you speak and Jungkook bites his lips to sustain the moan. “You’re gonna give up on me, baby?” he asks, making your nipple ache underneath your bra. “I haven’t fucked you probably yet and you’re gonna pass out?” It’s like he’s boo-ing you.

“N-no.” You try to catch your breath.

“No?”

“No.”

Jungkook grins, he’s gonna fuck you up.

Your eyes squeeze shut when he pushes to digits at once. “That’s it, yeaaah.” He places a kiss on your nub as a reward, and it is indeed a reward.

“Oh, fuck! Oh, fuck! Oh, fuck!” Your voice is sharp and thin when you cry, tears filling your waterline and rolling down your temples. “Kook!” you cry out when he’s knuckles deep like he’s searching for something that’s his.

“You can take it, they’re just my fingers.” You’re in the middle of losing your life and he says that. For fucks sake. “Fuck, you’re so tight.” Jungkook interjects and starts moving his fingers. He pulls them out to the tip of his fingers then pushes them back deep to the hilt.

“Shoulda brought the vibrator today,” he gruffly says and if it wasn’t for his fingers buried in you, you would have given him a sassy eye roll. “Wish you could see your face, you’re so pretty.” He leans in again, giving your pussy a wet smooch so loud that it fills the room with a wet kissing sound.

Nothing like this was planned today but now look at you, under him, withering away.

Your hands shake as you try to find anything to hold on to that could help you brace yourself from the orgasm that’s approaching you. “Jung— Jungko…?!” You’re wailing at this point, crying and yelling at the same time.

Jungkook’s nose flares as his hand picks up its pace, making a ‘come here’ motion that has you on edge. “You’re gonna cum,” he tells you as if it’s not obvious, helping you by securing your shaking hand and bringing it to his hair. “Hold on to me.”

He’s going to fucking kill you.

“I’m gonna… I’m gon— hgnh!” you grunt, eyes screwed shut and pulling on Jungkook’s locks. “I’m here, hold on to me.” If it wasn’t for your own boyfriend cradling your legs and restraining them, you would’ve kicked him in his face and bruised him badly.

Your lungs tighten once again and stars explode behind your closed eyelids as your orgasm washes over you.

The worst part is — Jungkook hasn't pulled his fingers out yet. “No, please, Jungkook, it's too much!” You try to sit up, hands leaving his hair and wrapping around his wrist.

“Jungkook, I just came, it’s too much. I can’t.”

But your whines fall upon deaf ears.

“One more.” He is determined to pull one more out of you but you just shake your head. “Please, baby, one more and then I’ll stop.”

You moan when he repeatedly curls his fingers in your pussy and something inexplicable in you bubbles this time. Nothing like before.

“Stop, wait…” Your sweaty fingers on Jungkook’s wrist try to remove his hand from your aching cunt but he just shoves your hand away from him. And that reminds you how you almost forget that he is much stronger than you.

“Stop pushing me away,” he grunts this time, finger fucking you tougher than he ever has. You’re practically shaking whole. “You asked for it, so take it—”

You can’t make out what he says after that, your ears ringing louder and eyes blinded by the orgasm that hits you.

“Fuuuck,” Jungkook moans, keeping his hand buried inside you, slowing his pace when you cum. You’re not aware of anything until he pulls them out of you.

“Didn’t know you could do that.” He ogles at his shining fingers, your arousal drenching his fingers down to his knuckle and making a mini pool in his palm.

It takes you a hot solid minute for your eyes to clear, tears subsiding and now hearing what’s around you neat. You prop on your elbows and watch his doe eyes stare at his fingers then back at you before chuckling, truly amazed.

“You squirted all over me, baby.” You can’t help but give him a broken smile. “And I did that,” he adds, proud that he caused this mess.

“Looks like a fucking champagne confetti.” With your silence taking over again and your whole face and chest burning, your boyfriend shows you his hand as if you don’t believe him. “You don’t believe me? Look.”

Your eyes widen, cheeks warming up once again. “Kook, stop!” you whine and his laugh echoes through your bedroom wall.

Right after you both subside from your laughs, you watch Jungkook bring your skirt from the floor and wipe the mess you made — your slick nectar all over his nose to his chin. Even on the ends of his dark bangs, causing a few strands to stick to his forehead.

Once he’s down, your boyfriend lifts himself up and you can’t help but notice the bulge under his leather pants. You start to shift your spot from the bed but stop when you hear him ask, “What’re you doing?”

You don’t speak much, glancing down to the tent below his pelvis. “It’s fine, you should rest.” He smiles, leaning and touching your cheek stained with dried up tears.

“But—”

Jungkook just shakes his head. “It’s fine, princess, I’ll go take a shower and deal with it.”

You frown, get up from the bed and rise to your feet before you wiggle yourself out of your top. You catch Jungkook staring at you shamelessly.

“You know, I’m so lucky to have you.” He starts to pull his cum-drenched shirt from his body. “You’re so fucking pretty and sexy, it’s crazy.” Jungkook admits he just fell in love all over again when he sees you like this — bare and naked in front of him.

“Let’s go shower.” You stick your hand out for him to take and he happily intertwines his fingers with yours before tugging you into the bathroom, you giggling like an idiot and Jungkook grinning like a moron.

And well, let’s just say, the night didn’t end like that, with a simple shower, but an intense fuck session under the shower’s faucet.

4K notes · View notes

taegularities · 7 months

Text

colour me in: seven | jjk (m)

Summary: At first, it's an argument that causes the unwanted, childish distance between Jungkook and you. And then… open blazers and a lip ring.

➳ pairing: Jungkook x reader ➳ rating: 18+ ➳ genre: est. rel.; fluff, smut ➳ warnings: an argument, cute couple-y things but also they're dorks n cringe sometimes, seven jk (incl the promo pics, laundromat hoodie bf koo, and drenched in the rain koo!!), fighting over food, they're a bit mean to each other, but they adore each other too, brief mention of a rough childhood, sexual tension, taeun being everything, kissing, dumb jokes, period and pms mention!!, a photoshoot!, subtle hints to the future of the main story :'); explicit sexual content: ahh.. making out, dirty talk, oral (f. & m. receiving), brief spanking, face-fcking, light choking, sweet and rough sex, dom jk, big dick jk, whipped simp jk, petnames, multiple orgasms, sex on the couch n on the floor? :'), he loves her a$$ and tiddies, multiple positions, cockwarming!!, mention of aftercare... the ending lol :D ➳ word count: 25k lmfaoo it's oneshot sized yall 😁 ➳ a/n: hi!! welcome back!! this is part of my series colour me in, but you can read it as a standalone-oneshot!! tysm for supporting me and encouraging me, guys, it means so so much. this is also unbeta'd, so pls go easy on me LOL. and since this was a piece of worrrrk.. come and talk to me about it, it makes my day fr fr <33 ➳ listen to: seven by jungkook | full collaborative playlist 🤍

SERIES MASTERPOST | TAGLIST MASTERLIST | WIPs

In hindsight, your argument was blissfully domestic after all. In hindsight, maybe even comedic.

You’ve seen these things on TV and read about them in novels; didn’t experience them growing up because your parents didn’t really fight over such harmless matters. They never needed to lift a finger in their ultramodern kitchen, filled with up-to-the-minute equipment to fill their table.

But Jungkook and you don’t rely on such luxuries. You do things for yourself. So, such a couple-y, casual life leads to couple-y, casual arguments. Requires it. Fighting is healthy; entangles two souls some more.

Which is exactly where you are now. Exactly what you’ve become: A true unit. Quarrelling over trivial, everyday things.

Just to end up folded in half, holding onto the very last of your sanity, biting back more inappropriate screams.

In regards of making up, you’re perhaps not that casual. Because he’s a relentless, brutal beast.

Wrecking you right where everything began.

Monday

The end of the day begins with a giant hole in the middle of your thoughts.

Your previously whirring brain tossed away all thoughts of advertisements and seasonal launches, vacant and dark until your senses shut down everything that wasn’t vital to survival.

Like the lights of the evening as your car passed the streetlamps. The tired faces on the pedestrian zone, the odd wrinkles in your skirt, or the scent wafting from the kitchen when you step out of your heels.

Your mind operates on reflexes and automatic movements; the ball of your palm rubs against your eyelid, realising too late that you’re probably smearing your eyeliner.

A sense of reality only truly returns when you hear a familiar voice call out your name, muffled through the walls between you.

You exit the bedroom with fingers scratching the nape of your neck, tiny steps floating over the floor and past the living room. On the coffee table, you register one or two dishes. Rice, too. Smells so good, but…

As you reach him in the kitchen, you halt at the threshold, eyes scurrying to the few pots and ladles in the sink. He’s diligent and fast; cleans up when dinner simmers. Minimal work left after the meal.

For a moment, you take in the cleanliness of the kitchen, and when your eyes move up to the man himself, you beam.

He’s wearing an apron – baby blue with little flowers and rainbows imprinted on it. His mom bequeathed him with one of her old ones, and he’s been boasting about it ever since.

You saw one with astronauts, moons and telescopes once; you might purchase it for him at some point, not least of all because it includes all the things the two of you love.

A tattooed hand pushes back his mane, messy and pointing in all directions the way it does after his showers. His fingers card through the fine tresses two more times before he turns towards you — an immediate smile, similar to yours, spreads across his face.

The tiny little dimples over the corners of his mouth distract you for a second until you see his hand at waist level, beckoning you into the kitchen and a greeting, sweet embrace.

Compared to the cold outside, his oversized, full-sleeve, white shirt offers a familiar warmth. He always smells the same, musky and fresh; not like cherry blossoms at all, but he reminds you of their softness.

Mixed with the scent of tonight’s meal, you inhale it all, wrapping your arms around him as your eyes close in exhaustion. If he wasn’t swaying you in his hold, you’d probably fall asleep, right there against his chest.

A kiss to your temple, and he asks, “Hungry?”

You’re not sure. You cuddle into the apron and whatever’s visible of his shirt, and mumble against him, “Not too much… to be honest, I was gonna shower and sleep.”

“Oh?” he wonders immediately, traces of disappointment in his voice. “But I made this for you.”

You smile again. “You did?”

“Yeah.”

“We’ll eat, don’t you worry.” You take a deep breath, and then lift your head off his chest without letting go. “In all honesty. I saw the food outside and thought you had it delivered.”

“So you were gonna waste something you thought was restaurant food?”

You laugh. You’re sure you could see his rosy pout even if you weren’t looking straight at him.

“No. It just looks very good… I would’ve heated it up tomorrow. But since yours was a one-person-effort,” you pat his back in pride, watching as strands of his bangs fall back into his eyes, “we shall eat.”

“And it comes from the heart, too.”

“Right. It comes from the heart, too.”

You rub his back once, soon backing away. There isn’t much to do for you anymore, but you still grab a couple napkins, chopsticks and spoons as he carries some water into the living room.

The couch feels soft, true Heaven, when you sink into it. Your heartbeat slows down, your mind at ease; when you tilt your head, your neck cracks.

But clinking your glasses of water with someone who cherishes you enough to step back and forth in a kitchen for hours… It's a comfort that’s incredibly close to a peaceful night’s sleep.

And it’s worth the effort, too. Despite the conversation and your complaints about work, you can’t help but compliment dinner every other moment. Possibly another endearing habit you picked up from him.

But you slow down when fatigue returns bit by bit, your eye twitching when you feel a well-known tickling in it.

You’re careful of potential spices when you lift your thumb and rub your eye with the back of it, fighting the itch. For a moment, you stop chewing, and Jungkook only lifts his gaze to you when the movement against your eye continues, circling motions.

“Hey,” he says, grasping your wrist, pulling it down slowly, “that’s bad for the cornea.”

“Yeah, I mean. It’s not like my cornea's been nice to me, either.”

You resume chewing, swallowing the mushy remnants of the rice. Your attention falls back to the bowl of food, and your chopsticks aimlessly poke around for a second before he asks, “Why? You okay?”

“Mhm,” you say, nodding gently. “It’s just,” you point to your eyes, chopsticks dangerously close to your face, “that eye thing. It might be an infection or something. It’s so bad today that it’s hurting my head.”

You’ve complained about the issue a couple times — back when it was just an itch, you assumed it was the dusty town, perhaps even sleep deprivation. But the itch has transformed into a relentless pain, moving up your temples and across your forehead.

“Again, yeah?” Jungkook asks, following with a tender gesture of tucking your hair back. The pad of his thumb brushes over your eyebrow. “I’ll massage your head before we go to sleep.”

You sigh in relief, tired eyelids shutting briefly as you claim, “You’re the fucking best, you know?”

“Yeah.” He delivers a nonchalant, drama-esque shrug of his shoulder. Unmistakable smirk. “I guess I do know.”

The giggles from when you started dating still remain. You remember annoying the hell out of your friends back then, high school butterflies visible through your stomachs and in your bright grins.

Jungkook’s ears would redden, a smile even in your eyes. You can imagine how irritating the honeymoon phase felt to them — not that the two of you ever snapped out of it.

Even now, you’re drowning in it.

Well, until you’re not.

Because the moment he slings his arm around you, leaning back, his plate and bowl empty, you move forwards. Place your own dishes onto the table, cuddling further into him.

Only, he seems to interpret it differently.

“Aren’t you eating anymore?”

Not the message you intended to deliver. But perhaps… he’s not wrong after all.

Because…

While the evening ended on a gentle note, much needed, you’re done with today by now. Craving a warm bed, strong arms around you. A sweet, soft sleep.

And the meal is worth a thousand culinary stars, but your appetite keeps dwindling, and hadn’t he put so much effort and affection into all this, you would’ve probably headed straight to bed.

So you answer truthfully, “I can’t eat more…”

“Hmm.” He briefly points to your portion. “You just ate half of it.”

Brief silence. It must’ve gotten late, because among the quieter traffic on the main road afar, you hear a couple nightlife bugs chirping, too.

You look between the bowl and him slowly, blinking, unsure what to say. The arm around your shoulder doesn’t match his tone, so it feels a little awkward now.

You mutter, “I’m sorry.”

Because should you force yourself to scarf all of this down now, you probably won’t be able to sleep.

But Jungkook’s hums and insecure voice are making you feel bad — you know he doesn’t mean to. It’s the puppy-doe nature, a combination of forlorn, soft eyes and pouty words.

“Ah… It’ll go bad by tomorrow, but…” he starts, but you cut in—

“Fridge?”

An immediate shake of his head, a click of his tongue. “Not with that one. I mean, we could, but it’s gonna be all dry and unpalatable in the morning, y’know?”

You don’t fully have a right to be annoyed. Neither of you does. But the day’s been irksome, work a mess, paper sheets flying around — on top of that, you finished your blister pack of birth control last Friday.

The period, probably approaching tomorrow and meddling with your busy schedule, is already putting you in a sour mood.

So the current lack of a solution doesn’t help your drooping eyelids and still partly tumultuous mind.

You push yourself forward on the couch, sighing before you suggest, “Okay. Then I’ll eat.”

“Woah,” he immediately voices, dropping his arm. He attempts to pull the bowl out of your reach, but you grip it tight, swallowing a small bite of rice. “I’m not forcing you to.”

“Yeah, but still.”

Another sigh of frustration falls out of you, your full stomach crying, but you pull the bowl to you, another bite ready between your chopsticks. But a moment later, Jungkook pushes your hand down again, every rice corn falling back to its prior place, fortunately never leaving the bowl.

Unbelieving, you shoot an aghast glare at him, to which he responds, “Don’t force it. Seriously.”

A rice corn still sticks to your lower lip, and you pull it in with the tip of your tongue. You place the warm meal back onto the table, half turning to Jungkook, voicing an irritated, “Dude!”

“You don’t have to,” he assures, but he looks clearly offended. Looks away, rubs his thigh, eyeing every object on the table before he adds quieter than before, “You know… That’s happened a couple times in the last few weeks.”

“…What did?”

“I’d cook for you and you wouldn’t finish it.”

“Babe… The last few weeks have been tiring.”

“I know,” his voice grows higher at the end of the syllable, but then calms again after a sigh. “But we refrigerated a lot of stuff, some of which I shared with Joon or Tae the next day. Or threw away.”

“Nah.” The ridiculing smirk you respond with isn’t intentional. You drop it right away, but still shake your head in disbelief, defending, “You know I eat up most of the time, especially when you cook. Just today, I can’t do more than this, okay?”

He gulps. Two fingers scratch his ear, eyes once again skimming over empty plates or remnant-filled bowls. He drops his digits back to his thighs, rubbing once more, and then puffs out a breath between rounded lips before he comes to a stand.

And then, all he does is nod; shooting a simple, “Alright.”

His tone is stern. You recognise the expression — his eyes still big, but different now. Usually filled with warm sparkles, they look pissed now. Not because of his dropping lids or the missing crinkles.

Jungkook doesn’t need to move a lot of muscles to look angry; the lack of the glimmer is just enough.

His lips are shut, not parted as they usually are when he focuses on something like his art or cooking or cleaning up. He’s exhaling and inhaling deeply through his nose, hands working on the dishes, but the fall and rise of his chest…

“You’re mad,” you conclude.

He looks back at you, the corners of his mouth never moving. His tone remains flat as he tries to convince you, “No. All good.”

Straightening his back, he attempts to walk away, hiding away in the kitchen until you’ve fallen asleep. He and you don’t argue too much — the little, couple-y, casual fights aren’t quite fights at all.

But they do end with a short distance until one is ready to approach the other and communicate again. A good strategy to cool your minds. You wouldn’t wanna discuss such a thing right away.

This time, however, you don’t want him to leave.

You pull him back again, holding onto the cotton shirt, and he protests with a loud call of your name and furrowed eyebrows as you insist, “No, you are mad.”

Your hand pushes against the couch, your body lifting, and you look him in the eye with a frustrated crease between your eyebrows. “Kook, I just am not capable of finishing it right now. You’re making a bigger deal out of it than you sho—”

“Yeah. Okay,” he interrupts, feigning acceptance and understanding, “it’s fine.” You scoff; sometimes, he’s truly as moody as you. “Things are different here, it’s fine.”

…What?

The sentence nearly comes out as a whisper as he finally starts walking away, and you only register it when he’s halfway out of the room. He balances the dishes in both hands, and you follow him to the kitchen.

Ask, “What’s different? Where’s here?”

“I work, too, you know? I get tired, too.”

“Jungkook,” you try again, slamming the hand against the counter; the sound’s muffled by a bright green cleaning cloth. “What are you talking about, things are different here?”

“Just.” He doesn’t seem to wanna talk. Carefully, he places the empty stuff in the wash basin, working on finding containers to dump the leftovers in them. “I get tired from working in the city, too, but I guess I grew up differently.”

…Huh.

You wait.

Let him collect his thoughts until he tells you, “In the countryside, you work for food, so you get used to finishing dinner. I know people around here rely on supermarkets, and honestly, I do, too,” his shoulders rise as he shovels the tofu dish into a box, “and I guess that’s why it makes sense why it’s easier for you to leave leftovers.”

Wow. Some statements in this world you live in are genuinely unfair.

You understood each of his words and lectures perfectly, but you still voice a little, “Huh?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re not being serious.”

“Maybe.”

You blink. Then blink a couple times more. Observe as he closes the boxes and puts them in the fridge with a sigh. And you feel bad, you swear, you do. But that unnecessary turn of events…

“So what, you mean we don’t work for our food, right?” you counter, a hand on your waist. “We might do less physical labour, so that must mean we don’t appreciate what we get, yeah?”

Damn. And what if there’s more to that? What if—

“Or do you think it’s because I’ve always had enough money to not worry?”

Okay. Perhaps a long shot. He didn’t say it, but what if that’s exactly what his thought process was, too?

Your inner panic, invisible on the outside, grows when he doesn’t answer, lips firmly locked as if they didn’t just spew some crisp bullshit. You fold your arms, sucking air through your nose, and then demand, “Apologise.”

And when his eyes lift to yours, you freeze. God, they’re deadly. And his ingenuine laugh even more so as he throws back, “No, you apologise. Especially for assuming things I neither said nor thought of.”

“You were rude. I’m asking you nicely to take it back.”

“As nicely as I cooked for you. World’s in balance again, I guess!”

He throws his hands up, staring at you until he’s passed you by, eyes rolling. His nonchalant, idle movements rile you up more, and you can’t help but participate further in that odd exchange.

“You douchebag,” you call out, shutting the bedroom door as you reach inside, “I’m not a snob. I’d always finish my stuff, you can even ask the cook in my old house. He loved me because I wasn’t a picky eat—”

“Listen,” he interjects again, “I know. It's fine. I’ll sleep,” he points to the bed, “because this tired me out. Just drop it.”

“So you can drop it as you please?”

“Nah, just asking you to rest,” the first word comes out louder than he anticipated, his shrug vexed and vexing. He clears his throat. “And I’m sure you’re tired of this, too.”

You groan.

“And if I want to—”

“It’ll just escalat—”

“Dude, I—”

And once more, he showcases his annoyance when he glares at you from the other side of the bed, shutting you up, blanket already lifted. You anticipate another rude remark, a way of justification or to blurt something he doesn’t mean.

But despite his recent idiocy, you don’t deem him an asshole. Not to you, at least. Which proves right as he takes a breather, one knee hitting the mattress as he finally states—

“Let’s sleep over it, okay?”

The tone still isn’t as peaceful as it could be; you know it’s a tactic to dodge a fight. You might not be on your best domestic side tomorrow yet. But his question is final and his gaze even stricter.

So you reluctantly sigh, eyes still fiery as you breathe, “Fine.”

But it’s not fine. And the turbulent week ahead, filled with chaos for you and peak comedy to others, might just be about to prove it to you.

Tuesday

You chew on your bites until the taste turns bland.

Still distracted from last night’s exchange, you barely register the tart spicy quality of your dinner; a shame because this restaurant is your favourite place to frequent with friends.

Today, you’re toying with your cutlery, catching a glimpse of your grim reflection in the spoon every now and then. Whenever Jungkook’s elbow touches yours, your heart skips a bit, bleeding as much as your eyes want to water.

With how he’s smiling at your friends, appetite never faltering, you could burst into tears — because somewhere inside, you miss him despite the constant proximity.

Perhaps he does, too.

Because you notice when he drifts closer on purpose, casually putting his hand over yours. Seemingly lost in conversations, he rubs his thumb against the soft back of your hand; but when you look at him, you can’t muster a smile just yet.

It’s your ego, your stubbornness. Pieces of you want to stay pissed. You keep your cool, but try to avert your eyes whenever possible.

And when you, obstinate as last night, pull your hand from under his, you register the defeated sigh.

But instead of starting a new topic, he retracts his fingers, putting his arm on his table as he busies his other digits with his meal. When you dare a glance, the pretty curves of his blooming lips tug upwards, listening to Taehyung’s story.

Either hiding the discomfort between you or not feeling it.

Odd, because he’s your constant centre of attention.

“Yeah, I mean. Every job is stressful, you know? But it’s wholesome, too,” Taehyung narrates. You blink the silent pining away, and focus. “Like, one of my patients is an elderly man, a lot weaker than his wife. And she always comes with him, every single time.”

“She just waits for him the entire time?” Jungkook asks.

Next to Taehyung, Eun nods; she’s probably heard the story before.

“I mean, she entertains us, is more like it,” Taehyung explains. “He’s been getting geriatric physiotherapy to regain some strength, so he needs all the motivation he can get. And those two are such… dorks. They bicker all the time.”

You smile. Reminds you of when Jungkook and you first met. Persistent, pointless rivalry.

Perhaps Eun hasn’t heard all of this after all. Because as she cuts her dinner, she asks before stuffing her mouth with a bite, “How so?”

“Like. She’ll tell him to not be a baby and take that last step during gait training.”

From your right, Jungkook’s laugh reverberates like a melody from above, sickeningly sweet and amused. “Sounds like me and you at the gym, doesn’t it?”

Taehyung rolls his eyes, flicking away stray hair with his forefinger, “Yeah, only because you can lift weights that’d break my arms.”

Another chuckle from the side. Even you smile a little.

Your man is strong, alright — and you’ve always admired it, experienced it a couple dozen times.

You’ve yet to see him work out at a proper gym; the home workout sessions barely count.

Ugh. The violent heartbeat beneath your chest picks up on pace again, and you take a deep breath to calm it just a little.

“Anyway,” Taehyung continues, “then she’ll tease him how the neighbour downstairs has much more flexible legs than he does and he’ll argue how she should’ve married him… and then she tells him that she would’ve if she didn’t love his old ass so much.”

When you giggle, covering your chewing mouth behind your hand, he adds, “I swear! It’s the most standard old couple banter if I’ve ever seen one. Thought that stuff only happens on TV.”

Eun, still busy with the remnants of her meal, doesn’t look up but asks, “So they joke around like that? They don’t get mad at each other or anything?”

“They act like they do. Not a sliver of jealousy or anger in them, though. Insane… and adorable. I guess when you’re married long enough, that’s how relationships turn out. And they should, too, you know?”

Hmm…

You side-eye Jungkook for just a moment, but don’t say anything.

You don’t know what’s written in your future. No clue whether he’s a permanent presence in it, a firm part of your fate or not; you strongly hope for an eternity.

You want to picture him and you grey and old. Wrinkled hands, adorned with blue veins holding each other. Weak smiles and crinkles around his eyes, hidden behind glasses, ever-present.

If he’s your future, you hope to laugh about such fights one day. Hope to let people wonder whether you’re actually furious with each other, veiling unbridled affection behind snarky remarks.

Just… right now, you can’t laugh about it just yet. You still feel oddly offended by his words last night, and it doesn’t help when tonight seems to drift towards a similar ending.

Because as you ask for the bill at the end, Jungkook still pays. You don’t think about it too hard, letting him do, staying seated to finish your drinks.

But your exhaustion reaches a new, entirely unnecessary peak when he starts cracking his fingers. On any other day, you’d put a hand over his, reminding him not to and move on.

Today, you’re in a bad mood, and your demands come out accordingly piqued.

“Stop it.”

“Hm?” he voices, looking at you, the warm light of the restaurant reflecting in his dark brown eyes.

“This,” you point to his fingers, “stop that.”

“Why?”

“Because you know it makes me cringe. A bit annoying.”

Eun, still unaware of the tension between him and you, shrugs her shoulders, “I know that irks a lot of people, but I don’t think it’s that bad.”

“Because you do it, too,” Taehyung complains; she mocks him with a sly smirk and a quiet, Yeah, yeah. He adds, “I can’t stand it, either.”

You lift an open palm towards him, nodding, “So you understand.”

“I’ve seen you do it, too,” Eun argues with a light push against his shoulder, “multiple times!”

“But not as often as you. You start and do not stop.”

You immediately agree, “He’s just like that, too!”

To which Jungkook interjects, his voice still calm; but you still hear the growing aggravation in his voice when he starts, “Honestly, I—”

“He actually has a couple habits that are just—”

You blow a raspberry.

Your interruption triggers Jungkook. And your words, admittedly not quite the sweetest, don’t sit well with him, either, because a moment later, he’s leaning forwards again. Looking at you directly before he continues his irritating bone-cracking.

You grit your teeth and repeat, “Stop that.”

“What?” he shoots back. You flinch. “A habit you despise so much, yeah? I don’t get the same intense reaction when I do something nice for you.”

So untrue.

Fucking hell. He’s talking about yesterday again.

You exhale through your nose, possibly resembling a bull ready to attack; Taehyung and Eun shrink in front of you, grimacing at each other. You’d laugh if it wasn’t you trapped in that exasperating back and forth of exchanges.

“Oops,” Eun whispers, yet overshadowed by your words as you defend, “That’s not true.”

“Maybe,” Jungkook says, shrugging a shoulder with an outrageous smirk, “but you never get that angry when I crack them at home.”

“I just don’t say it.”

“Oh? What else do you not say, hm?”

Taehyung dares an attempt, “Guys.”

But you’re too heated, a little stupid, very ridiculous as you spit, “Like, how irritating it is that you smack your lips every other second.”

Jungkook puffs out a breath. Looks to the side, straight into Eun’s direction who sinks a little more. He curls his lower lip in, running his tongue over it, jaw clenched and sharp. If you weren’t so focused on your temper, you’d find it scorching hot.

In a harmless little fight, you’d keep annoying him until he lost it eventually, mounting you and shutting you up in the very tempting Jungkook-esque way he knows.

But not here, not right now.

Instead, he fucks you up further as he sneers, “Right.”

“Or,” you continue, “that you don’t clean up your working space after painting.”

“What?” He furrows his thick eyebrows, ignoring Taehyung’s call of Jungkook’s name. “I mean. You have all your documents scattered on the desk. I might need it, too, y’know?”

“Why don’t you say it then?” you ask, tilting your head with one cocked eyebrow of yours.

“‘Cause I wanna let you work? ‘Cause it’s important for me that you’re able to focus?” He looks away again, tutting; his shoulder moves with his deriding laugh as he mumbles, “The fuck, really.”

Somewhere inside, you feel bad. You know his words are true. But you can’t tell him yet; so you just glare at him.

As silence finally falls upon you, Eun moves towards the table again, glancing between the two of you as she wonders, “What’s wrong with you guys?”

Everything.

“Nothing,” you say.

“…You wanna go?”

You wait. Jungkook doesn’t answer. Looks to the ground. When you don’t respond either, his eyes lift to yours, still big but not as enthusiastic as usual. Intimidating even.

You stay still, so he only voices, “Uh-huh.”

And the couple, enduring your awkward moment, lets you go gladly. You pack up, finishing your drink, and when you leave your table, you notice just how many people were staring at you.

Still are.

You really embarrassed yourself in front of a crowd, huh?

As the daughter of rich parents, owning a huge ass clothing brand, this isn’t something you should’ve done. But you pray and hope that you won’t wake up to a headline, or that journalists won’t interpret your little feud as a reason to break up or some nonsense like that.

Trouble in Heaven, they’d call it. Predictable little cockroaches.

You trudge past the customers with a deep breath in; Jungkook doesn’t seem to care much, because he walks ahead, hands in the pockets of his linen cotton slacks. Doesn’t look around.

Only bids Taehyung and Eun goodbye; tells you to buckle up when the two of you get in your car; curses once or twice when he misses the green light by a second.

And when you’re at home, sighing as the night approaches its end, you shake your head. Unbelievable whatever transpired back at that place. And you thought you were warming up to each other again.

Guess it’s your fault this time.

Which is why you hum when he calls your name, watching you put on your nightwear; bed ready while you still need to take off your makeup.

His question baffles you; more so with the slightly irate tone.

“Will you still give me a good night’s kiss or?”

You roll your eyes. Don’t say anything; grab your skincare products before you get to work.

He sighs once more; you see the shake of his head before you disappear into the bathroom, hear him say, “Whatever.”

But when you come out with a light rosy scent on your skin and jump under your blanket, you still shift towards his slowly drifting body. His arm under his head, eyes closed, lower lip pouting that you target carefully and—

Press the lightest kiss against.

Immediately, you turn around. Imitate his position.

He doesn’t reach out to you as he usually does, pulling you into his arms. But you still feel the petal-soft brush of tender fingers against your arm before the touch retracts again — and eventually, you fall asleep.

WEDNESDAY

The only reason Jungkook accompanied you to the laundromat is because your clothes gathered into a huge mountain. Neglecting your responsibilities at home, you brought two bags, and he insisted on helping you out.

It's late afternoon. Work tired you out, dinner is still pending; you don’t want to be here. And the place is empty; a yawning void. Just you, alone with your tank-top and grey-blue zip up hoodie clad, messy-haired boyfriend.

The retro plastic laundromat seats tired him out, so he’s standing at the far back. His eyes follow the tossing and turning of the clothes in the washing machine, and sometimes, they trail back to you.

And you — you’re sitting in a corner, arms folded, still uncertain whether you should wait for an apology or opt for one yourself.

The distance is childish. You’re way more mature than that.

But your fight is childish, too, and you guess sometimes, even healthy couples fall back into kindergarten routines.

Once the clothes are done and dry, the journey back home approaching, he helps you out. Tramps to you, mutters a little, “Gimme. I’ll take this.”

The bag strap drags his hoodie off his shoulder a little, revealing the flowery tattoo. He doesn’t fix it; lost in thoughts and silent until home. As if he wants to say something, but doesn’t.

In the apartment, he asks, “Dinner or takeout?”

And you, learning and indisputably craving his affection in any shape or form, answer, “We can make dinner.”

“I’ll do it. Get some rest.”

You sigh in relief. There’s solace in your gratitude — today was arduous, much like the preceding days of this week. You bide your time until he’s done, and then help him set the table and clean the kitchen.

The evening passes without any hostility, but ends without many gestures of fondness, too.

THURSDAY

“You don’t need to come, too. I bet you’ve other stuff to do.”

Jungkook adjusts to your steps. He snatched a jacket way too insufficient for the frosty weather, but he won’t hurry if you don’t. Doesn’t stray from your side.

So you walk faster. Then he does, too.

He rubs his nose, shrugs a shoulder and responds, “I’ve nothing much to do today, really.”

“Yeah, but,” you pull at the sleeves of his jacket, urging him to rush through the wind, “you’ll get bored. And I’m a big girl.”

“I know that. But it’ll be fine. Wanna make sure you’re okay, too.”

He nudges your elbow. You can’t pinpoint whether he’s daring an attempt to set things right or is genuinely concerned. Or both. In some way, the tension between you lingers, and you can’t shake off the awkward feeling just yet.

So you only nod, holding off an answer for a moment. Staring ahead, you listen to the soft sounds of the city, blinded by headlights soon passing you by. A bit longer and the first snow will fall.

The consoling feeling of winter days draws closer, feels warm despite the frigid wind. Hot chocolatesque. There’s just something about wool shawls and warm jackets and old, animated Christmas movies.

One thing you miss about living in your parents’ big, fancy house in your very old neighbourhood is the chimney. The soft yellow and orange of the crackling fire, melting the cold over your skin.

Sometimes you’d sit on the fleecy white carpet, protected by a thick, warm turtleneck sweater, watching the dancing flames.

You wonder again — if Jungkook and you are truly written in the stars as one, will you move into a bigger place one day? Save money and expand the comfort of the current apartment, investing in even more soothing walls with a couple little additions.

Not the lush, exaggerated luxury you grew up with. Not necessarily anything snobby.

But casual, domestic things, like a fire side you can sit in front of, drinking tea, slow dancing and giggling in the dark. Lit by the chimney fire; familiarity.

You sigh.

“It’s been long since I went to the dentist, too,” Jungkook then says, and you hum. That’s sudden.

“You should go then.”

“Yeah,” he says, eyes darting from your face to your hands. You unintentionally bury them in the pockets of your jacket the moment he reaches out for you; and when he understands that you didn’t notice, he curls his fingers into fists. “Maybe I can get an appointment now? Do they take walk-ins?”

You furrow your eyebrows. “I don’t know.” Then, upon realisation, you laugh a little and say, “I’m not going to the dentist.”

“What?”

“What?” You stare back with eyes as big as his. “Optometrist, Koo.”

His raised eyelids are nothing new. He’s attentive when it comes to you; recognises, notices and remembers every little thing. But you guess he truly has been tired, too.

And you feel bad for not considering it as much as he considered it. The reason he cooked for you in the first place, right?

You press your lips into a line, stare down to a puddle on the ground; an aftermath of the rain.

“Oh,” he makes, “why did I think we were going to— Sorry. My bad.”

In actuality, you did wonder if he knew. He didn’t ask questions when you told him you were leaving; simply announced he was going with. You were pulling socks over your ankles as his rushing form scurried across the room.

You guessed he’d figured it out. But the fact that he was ready to accompany you without a certain clue where you were heading makes you a little giddy.

Clearing your throat, you clarify, “No worries. It’s about that pain in my eyes. Remember?”

You wouldn’t be mad if he didn’t. Preceding your fight by perhaps a couple minutes, you don’t think the tiny statement still holds any relevance to him anymore.

Right?

Wrong.

“Yeah,” he answers, “yeah, of course. You thought it was an infection.”

“Mhm,” you hum, ignoring the butterfly wing slamming against your insides, “I’m so sure it’s an infection.” You click your tongue. “Itch first, and now it gives me migraines.”

“Yeah, you told me… But. It’s nothing serious, I just know.”

You look at his sculpted side profile.

You know him. Jungkook doesn’t actually know, of course — that’s not why he’s saying that he does.

But because hope is better than pure uncertainty; and he likes trying to manifest. He believes in little miracles like this. Knocks on wood a lot, tries not to voice potential disasters in case they might actually roll around.

So you take the reassurance. Walk to the clinic in silence. Attempt more small talk in the waiting room until they drench your corneas in those odd, blinding eye drops, dilating your pupils.

The brief, quick tests follow; the assistant is young and gentle, and you try your best to be a good patient. She seems to enjoy your temporarily formal behaviour, perfected in the years you grew to be a reputable heir.

You drop it once you’re in the waiting room again, awaiting the final consultation and results.

Jungkook is a restless companion. No matter how irritating, you’re used to the constant swaying and the movements of his legs. One might think he is anxious for you, eyes locking on the head doc’s office door every now and then.

Yet, he wonders, “Are you nervous?”

“Nervous?” you repeat, breathing out a tiny, amused laugh. “Nah. He’s really nice. And it’s just some eye stuff.”

“Well, eyes are important.”

The words come out quickly, but the last syllable dies gradually.

You smile.

Jungkook sometimes reminisces about a time when he’d hide from relatives or eat lunch at the back of class back in elementary school. He tires out the term introvertness, and you repeatedly retort with a certain ambivertness.

At times, he’s loud, flirty, annoying and confident — gives you a hard time believing that he ever averted a girl’s gaze or hid behind his cousins.

But then… there are moments when you see it.

Like now.

The puffy cheeks, the youthful pout, the big, big eyes flashing to the ground. Unsure what to say, unsure what you’re thinking of him.

Until he gulps, keeping his voice quiet and low as he continues, “Have you ever had a private optometrist?”

Huh. Not a question you expected. You guess starting the week with a discussion about wealth makes him think of such things these days.

“Yeah,” you say, shifting in your seat. You can still not see him clearly; his features are blurry, and you squint. “When I was younger. Big, bright places and top notch equipment.”

“Why did you stop?”

“I mean… It's not like usually used equipment, like here, is any worse than theirs. Also, same reason as why I went to a public college. Normalcy, I guess.”

“Odd.”

“…Why?”

“Because,” he draws a sharp breath, staring ahead. “Despite all the normalcy, you’re as extraordinary as can get. Money or not.”

A heartbeat passes. Among the sounds of the quiet chatter around you and the ads in the TV at lowest volume, your breath mingles with the hushed noises like a whisper.

His slowly blinking eyes are genuine, your reflection in his dark brown orbs clear. White dots sparkle like constellations in the sky, bright and plenty. It’s nice that they remind you of the sentimentality in his heart after every single serious or dumb, big or small fight.

For a moment, you keep looking. Your fingers twitch, urging to reach out, but as they start moving off your knee, you hear a call of your name.

Jungkook leans back, clearing his throat, smiles at you as you get to your feet and meet the doctor’s stare, kindly gesturing inside the examination room.

A couple more tests, a friendly conversation, more orders from his side before he gives you a diagnosis and a prescription.

And when you head out, Jungkook’s still sitting right where you left him. One leg restless again, leaning forwards, arms on his thighs and hands intertwined. His head is hanging between his shoulders; even from afar, you see his lashes move, eyes slowly blinking.

You can’t quite explain it, but you love this point of view — when you can see his parted lips, the lower one pillowy, partly hidden behind his button nose. Cheeks round. You truly do love this watching-from-above-angle.

Even though it clearly suggests he’s bored out of his mind. Beyond done with this place, but still here, waiting for you.

You clutch the strap of your bag again, sighing, and then move towards him with light steps. The back of your fingers reaches out then, brushing against his temple a tiny moment before he detects your shoes and looks up.

“Oh. That was fast,” he says; his eyes are drooping. He had a long morning in the attic. “What did he say?”

He gets off the seat, moving his stiff neck and cracking it a little, hand flashing up to his shoulder. You explain, “I need eye drops. Two to three times a day.”

“Ah. Then we could get them right now.”

You nod, allowing a little smile, telling him as you head out, “My eyes are okay, though. Somehow, my vision has improved, too.”

Jungkook’s lips form an excited Oh, but when he sees your expression, he says, “But you seem bummed about it.”

Ah. Well.

You feel ungrateful thinking that way, but…

“In some way?” you admit. “I’d rather have an infection that can be fixed with antibiotics and won’t come back so easily instead of… you know. Having to constantly rely on eye drops. It just sounds so permanent.”

Another deep sigh; you’re exhausted as well. “And I’ll have to remember to use them.”

“Hmm,” he voices, holding the door open for you. He zips his jacket close as you step out; an immediate breath cloud forming when he exhales. “Set an alarm, yeah?”

“Yeah. Just knowing myself…”

“I’ll remind you then.”

The suggestion is immediate, albeit accompanied by a seemingly nonchalant shrug of his shoulder; jacket’s sleeves adorably pulled over his hands.

“Once in the morning. You set an alarm for lunch and then I remind you again when you take your birth control pill at night. Yeah?”

The bitter feeling of the fight vanishes a little; you try to ignore the residual awkwardness, apologies probably still due. But right now, your conversation follows a different path, so you settle on a soft, little, “Thank you, Kook.”

He always does that. Remind you of your meds.

Your vitamins, your pills, that one nose spray hydrating your nose flora to prevent your mucosa from drying out or whatever your ENT doc told you. He did last night, too.

He always does — even if it means forgetting about his own responsibilities.

You blink a couple times, rubbing your eyelids before you admit, “Still hurts. Can barely see… and the streetlamps are so bright?”

“Lemme look.”

He stops in his tracks and you follow; his hand catches your wrist, pulling your fingers away from your eyes, and you turn to him slowly. You’re still attempting to clear your vision, so he orders, “Stop blinking.”

And once you do, he moves in. Takes your face in his already warm hands, staring, squinting, humming. He looks focused, and you raise your eyebrows, waiting for a conclusion until he finally mutters, “Damn.”

“What?”

He seems impressed. Looks a bit longer. You repeat, “What? Are they red? Swollen or something?”

“Nah,” he lets your face go, already stepping back as if dodging your proximity. “But,” he starts; you stare like a puppy, only breaking when he adds, “they’re pretty as fuck.”

Your playful punch rises as if on instinct.

One part of your relationship that never changed was your bicker, starting with annoyance and morphing into frisky, flirty remarks. You consider it the foundation of what makes the two of you a unit.

You grit your teeth, but can’t bite back the smile.

“Dude,” you scold, and he covers his arm instinctively, evading the punch looming over him.

But you don’t deliver it after all, dropping your hand, shaking your head instead. You say, “If you hadn’t helped me survive today, I’d—”

You steer towards him, attempting another scare, and he plays along with a flinch just before he starts laughing again. Hums and nods emphasise his words when he agrees, “You survived like a true champ. A big girl, you said, right?”

“Sure am.”

“Mhm. …My big girl?”

“Gross. Shut up.”

The atmosphere will stay odd for a while. That’s okay, you guess. At least it allows for a bit of amusement, hard to hide as you smile a little, bite your lip.

You lower your head, veiling your beam behind your hair, but you know he sees. Matches your smile — perhaps even a bit brighter than your own.

FRIDAY

The fast approaching weekend usually eases a week’s tension. But considering the mounting workload you tackled today and the endless Saturday you’ll be dealing with very soon, your muscles don’t relax just yet.

Imprisoned behind the bars of work, your thoughts circle around the schedule for tomorrow. In that sense, you come home late and can’t quite bother with the stress that spread throughout the first half of the week.

Jungkook already scarfed down tonight’s dinner, comfortably laying in bed and balancing the laptop on his stomach. From the sound of it, he’s watching videos of various genres.

Sitting on the living room couch and indulging in a short story for just a bit, you hear the enthusiastic voices of chefs rattling down recipes every now and then. It’s a hobby of his, but you can’t help but feel bad.

He studies those YouTube videos to improve his cooking skills, and you, ungratefully, leave the rest of his effort in the goddamn fridge. You sigh.

If you had the energy and will to talk it out, you’d do it now. You couldn’t all day.

He was still asleep when you left, and after work, you went to a brief dinner with a coworker to dash through details for tomorrow. Looking at the plan, you hope for at least a sliver of fun amidst the photoshoot chaos.

When you returned home, Jungkook was gaming right where you’re sitting now. You showered, only to find him back in the bedroom, with his eyes glued to said laptop. And now, as you approach the bed to end the night, he walks past you with falling eyelids.

He rubs them with the back of his tattooed hand, a tired pout on his face contradicting the seemingly badass image that the ink usually gives him. Hard shell, soft core and all.

“Be right ba—,” Jungkook’s hazy voice informs, last syllable broken by a yawn. “Go to bed, okay?”

His palm moves across your upper arm as he passes you by, and you nod, steering towards the inviting, warm mattress. Its surface melts with your body when you drop. God, you’re exhausted; can barely think.

You don’t think it’ll take you particularly long to drift away; and just when your consciousness slips, you feel an arm around you.

A soft hug, enveloping you. He drops his face to yours, lips gently pressing against your cheek for a moment before he adjusts the blanket over the two of you.

A current of warmth courses through your veins, and you draw a deep, long breath of affection when he cuddles into you. He must be thinking you’re asleep but slowly falling out of dreams, because he pulls you in and rubs your arm.

An effective tactic he usually wields to help you fall asleep.

He puts a leg gently over yours, his body so close to yours that you feel bits of the combustion of your heart.

Because…

Despite your stupid feud, you’re kind of happy that he’s joined you under the thin blanket, pressing more featherlight kisses against your scalp. Sighs against it.

And you can’t withhold the smile when he brushes over your clothed tummy and whispers, “My feisty little girl.”

SATURDAY

You remember to unclench your jaw.

The stress hardens your muscles. Your limbs are stiff, eyes unblinking until they dry out. Fingers wrapped around your phone, you hold the device firmly, shutting out the telling vibrations of notifications.

This cannot be.

There are a hundred fires burning around you. Erupted chaos causes panic, and in the middle of it are you, clueless and vexed beyond measure.

It’s one thing cancelling a shoot a couple days before it takes place — and another thing to call sick at the very last moment. You didn’t think the model would ditch you like this… but now that he has, you can’t figure out how to replace the missing piece of the shoot.

Your troubled co-workers call out a dozen names, but you don’t say a word, gazing around with a crease between your eyebrows.

This whole thing needs to be out in the open by Friday, and the photographers and editors need time. So, postponing this to Monday and the release of the ads to another weekend won’t work, right?

No.

You’re at the headquarters of this brand. And you’re one of the organisers of this shoot and project. Every single shop will need to postpone if you do.

Unprofessional. Goes against the schedule.

The complaints are still on full blast when you see a calm movement from the corner of your eye. You move your head to the left, peeking through the glass door, and on the other side awaits—

A wide-eyed man, staring inside, observing the tumult like he’s stepped into the jungle. He’s wearing a white shirt, tucked into jeans, long bangs hanging into his eyes and enhancing the sweet gaze so wonderfully.

Pieces of your stress melts — but you still can’t figure out why he’s standing there.

You walk to the door automatically, throwing a tiny smile when he detects you among the staff. A big hand waves in tiny, and you open to let him in.

“Hey,” you greet, pushing back to where you stood before. He follows. “What are you doing here?”

As you come to a stand, he puts a hand on your waist lightly, drawing close to press a kiss to your temple. Then, he responds, “Picking you up?”

“Wh—”

Oh. Shit.

You were going to go out and celebrate the end of the stressful week. He’d suggested it last weekend because he already knew how hectic today would be.

Ughhhh.

You’re terrible.

Jungkook realises your forgetfulness the moment your expression changes into a guilty one. His curious, innocent look drops with his eyebrows, and he sighs when you say, “I’m sorry, Kook.”

When he stares down at his shoes, you feel a wave of shame; the noise around you fades for just a second as he half sullenly, half disappointedly asks, “Really?”

“I swear… It’s not my fault.”

It’s not an excuse; not a lie.

He looks disheartened; knowing him, stupid argument or not, he was probably looking forward to this. Fuck, you feel bad.

Despite his obvious drop in mood, he doesn’t say anything much. Instead, he nods and assures, “It’s fine. What happened?”

You look around again. From afar, you see a coworker approach. She looks hopeful and you take the crumbs, but you still explain, “Everything should be done by now. We got most of the pictures, but… one of the guys bailed on us.”

“Shit, really? What now?”

You shrug your shoulders, once again racking your brain for a solution. People here are counting on you, but it’s not you who brings the very first somewhat reasonable suggestion of today.

Only somewhat reasonable, though.

Because the coworker approaching ogles at Jungkook like a pirate at a treasure, pupils big and wondering as she suddenly says, “Hold. Did you come up with that?”

You blink.

Then ask, “What?”

“You called him here?”

“What?” you repeat, a confused, little parrott.

She rolls her eyes, “He,” she points at Jungkook with a thumb, “is not allowed in here. Usually. So I assumed you called him as a replacement.” She tilts her head. “And he’s freaking perfect!”

Per—

What? No, no, no. That’s absolutely nothing you planned or permitted.

“No?” Instinctively, you take a step to the side, right in front of his broad shoulders as if to protect him from harm. You argue, “He’s not a model. He’s an artist.”

From behind, you hear, “I’m just an artist.”

“Yeah, but,” she throws back, “you’re art, too. I won’t lie.”

Another step back until your back almost touches his chest. His fingertips graze your hip, as a warning before you stumble over his feet. You can imagine the subtle rosy dust on his cheek; he’s fond of compliments.

As everyone is, you suppose. But.

“Hey, careful,” you tell her, disguising it as a joke, but feeling the lightest burn in your stomach when he laughs at her words.

She raises her pretty lips to a prettier smile, nodding in reassurance as she promises, “Yes, I know he’s taken.”

Another quiet chuckle from behind you, and you cock an eyebrow before he changes the topic and admits, “Seriously, I’m not a model at all and barely know what these things are like…”

To which she waves off his concerns and explains, “Oh, you just need to look good. We’d put some make up and clothes on you, a few pics and we’re done.”

Sounds easy enough. A bit like an insult to actual models, kind of putting those to shame who ran across stages for years to study, internalise and perfect their movements.

But you don’t correct her because you’re desperate, too. And right now, this sounds the easiest.

Still, he murmurs, “I’m not sure.”

“I understand if not,” she says. Her tone changes, fragments of frustration in it. “It’s just that we’re running out of options.”

Once more, you play out the upcoming week mentally. Postponing the last shoot. Postponing the release. Postponing the seasonal launch.

None of this is your fault, but you’d still be the one to get all the wary looks.

As if on cue, Jungkook squeezes your hip, and you look at him with worry painted across your face. You know he sees it immediately, but he still asks, “Is it that bad?”

You nibble at your lip, putting a hand over his as you say, “Yeah. We do need someone.”

“Is that allowed? Can I just replace a guy?”

“I’m technically the boss here, so you’d just need my permission,” you take a breath and then click your tongue, “I mean, usually we’d just reschedule, but we don’t have the time and those shoots already take hours. And in your case, we’d do all the paperwork, contract stuff later.”

“Would it help you?”

He’s considerate. Even in a stressful moment like this, the gentle tone, the deep care makes you weak. The answer’s already clear, but you still tell him, “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. Again, it… might take up to two hours or so.”

“But it’d help you, babe, wouldn’t it? Unless you don’t want me to. Then I won’t.”

You don’t have a single problem with this; in fact, you’d be happy to put him in front of a camera. His genuine thoughtfulness liquefies you — you’re a puddle at this point.

“Oh, I… Jungko—”

Juri intrudes, “I’m sorry,” carefully, she inches closer, nodding over her shoulder, “Just wanna say that we have a lot of designers in our team. They do logos and make the posters and all. Maybe, if they saw you — because the country already knows you as her artistic man from newspapers — they could teach you some digital art stuff.”

“I…” Jungkook starts. He’s probably thinking the same — which he confirms when he adds, “I’m not sure how me modelling for you might relate to artistic stuff. But I already know a lot about digital art.”

Yeah, exactly. Of course he does; what else did he wade through college for throughout these years?

“But,” she lifts a finger, infinite force in one word already, “have you ever tried expensive equipment and all?”

Oh oh. You feel bad.

Is that the group of society you represent? Maybe you guys are a little pretentious after all, dealing and seducing with money.

But he either doesn’t notice or doesn’t dare to challenge her when he steps next to you and says, “I can do it, but not for that digital art offer.” He puts a hand on your back, rubbing lightly and briefly, “For her.”

You fold your arms under your chest; less to show dominance, but more to press against the butterflies. There’s a type of nausea falling in love elicits, deep in your stomach where everything appears so surreal and beautiful that it makes you oddly sick.

The first time your pupils took on their heart shape was the first moment Jungkook practised that effect on you; made you realise what inevitable emotions he was pulling you into.

That effect has not faltered; your guts still twist.

At least, for a couple minutes.

Because the second your coworker-vultures attack him and drag him to the back room, something changes. Nervousness, you guess. You know the clothes that are awaiting him, but stepping out of makeup and into the spotlight leaves you gasping for air.

From afar, he’s leering at you.

Wearing a snow white shirt, tucked into his pants, priorly tousled hair still messy but styled in curls. Yes, you might know your collection — but you didn’t think it’d fit him like second skin.

Why did you doubt it, though? Jungkook could wear a trash bag and still compete against Adonis.

For a moment, he stands still, entangling his fingers, looking around. Then, he’s smiling in uncertainty, awkwardly putting his hands on his tiny waist, waiting for directions.

Juri tip-toes towards you, as if you’re filming a scene in a drama. She pulls the clipboard to her chest, one digit pointing to your struggling man before she says, “He’s adorable.”

You nod. “I wonder how he’ll do.”

“Well, yeah,” she murmurs, half distracted; but then she averts her eyes from him, looking from your nervous lips up to your furrowed eyebrows before she assures, “Worst case scenario, we’ll postpone. End of story. At least we tried.”

“Hmm… Well, let’s hope it won’t be that case.”

Which, you soon realise, it certainly isn’t.

A couple professional suggestions by the director and Jungkook gets into position. The initial movements of his hands and body are a little strange and awkward, and you can’t help but want to pull him from this chaos and wrap him in a fuzzy blanket.

But the seemingly feigned adorable stance soon shifts into something unexpectedly dangerous when he raises his chin. Thumbs in the pockets of his jeans, he relaxes his body, lips suddenly forming a tempting, slight pout.

He doesn’t usually look like that…

“Wow,” you whisper, faintly registering Juri’s fascinated nod from the side.

This is still a harmless pose, you think; one the director dared him to do. But you’re surprised by the sudden confidence, the way Jungkook doesn’t fumble or stutter or question anything.

Some of his softness shines through the moment the photographer gives a thumbs up, a tattooed hand cracking the fingers of the others. Doe eyes back, he leans forwards as if he could peek at the pictures like that, asking cautiously, “That okay?”

He looks different. Why does he look different?

“That was great! Perfect start. I promise the rest is just as easy,” the team encourages him, asking him to monitor the pictures they just took.

Jungkook walks to the strangers in slow steps, chest behind the tight, white top heaving once. On his way, he looks up to you instinctively, throwing the same thumbs up at you with a questioning gaze.

And you, still baffled, smile.

Watch as he converses with the people, his grin wide when he likes what he sees — an instant confidence boost, though you still see the nervousness in his stance. Where was any of it when they clicked the photos?

As if a demon possessed him for just a minute. Dual and dangerous.

Then again, he’s not very different in your daily life. A celestial soul on some days, catering to your every whim, never letting your feet touch the ground.

And a beast on others, inhaling your sounds like a starving incubus, never heaving your body off the mattress.

The duality doesn’t disappear with this very first outfit.

When some music starts playing and they tell him to move freely, filming the sequences for the ads, your eyeballs nearly fall out of your eyes. And you finally realise why he looks so different now.

Because the moment his thumb touches his lower lip, mimicking a wiping motion (much like he does after kissing you sometimes), you see the silver-plated jewellery glimmering from all the way from the set.

Lip ring.

Whose idea…

“What did you do back there?” you ask, near-panicking, your heart dropping into your panties.

Juri flinches, asking, “What?”

“Is that a lip ring? You gave him a—”

You puff out a breath; it’s immensely difficult to be mad at him like this. He’s been looking…

“Shouldn’t we have?” her tiny voice asks; her body shrinks a little.

“I mean. I just. It wasn’t planned.”

“Yeah, but look how amazing he looks.”

You’re seeing it, alright.

The subtle touches, the light tugging at his shirt. Movements just right. He looks all serious, like a beast, hotter than motherfucking hell. Transports your saliva into your windpipe with each look he sports.

Until you actually feel yourself choking and gagging once he leaves and comes back for the next shoot twenty minutes later.

Because why on Earth did they omit the shirt under the grey blazer?

You’re close to dashing to costume and makeup, confronting them to ask why they chose to toy with your sanity like this. Because… the lip ring is still there. His hair is suddenly slicked back. Fingers adorned with rings.

And he looks so goddamn good.

Maybe it’s your fault. You told them you trusted them, and that they were supposed to do as they pleased. And they are… they so are.

All of him, like a strong magnet, pulls you in, but you keep your feet firmly on your spot, cementing yourself in place. There’s something incredibly attractive about the way he presents himself — new, talented.

You’re fidgety, a sexually frustrated observer when he touches his jacket, pulling it open just a little. The inked hand is veiny; you see it from here, too. The light gesture allows glimpses of his chest.

Small, perked, brown nipples. Lines and ripples of his abs firm. Ending in his V-line, hidden behind the peeking underwear and blue, baggy jeans.

Heavy chains are already menacing when he shuts his eyelids and parts his lips. Worse when he leans forwards, hazy eyes staring into the camera as if he’s about to devour the camerawoman.

Jeon Jungkook is a hazardous danger to society. The world will want him — and he’ll only want you.

Fuck.

You’re drooling. Drowning in your own puddle. Crossing your legs.

And when they tell him to sit, ordering to open the button of his jeans and push it down his hips just a bit, the little yous in your brain wreak havoc.

A fire starts in the organised office of your mind, red sirens blaring, and you look at Juri as you ask, “Why is he naked?! Why’s the blazer off his shoulder?!!”

“Because,” she defends, hiding behind the clipboard; it’s not her fault. That’s what the other model would’ve done, too. “Underwear ads!”

You’re aware. You just didn’t think it’d be Jungkook ending up in this position. Perhaps you didn’t think it through; didn’t know what it’d do to you.

But his effect pools in your lower stomach; so intense, you might cry.

“What the fuck,” you mumble when he takes the jacket off, sitting up and improvising all of a sudden. A hand covers his mouth, the blazer thrown over his shoulder. “What’s the point of holding it? He’s not even wearing it.”

“Because,” she starts again, “we’re focusing on the underwear.” Where’s the focus on the underwear? You can barely see it. Are people plotting against you? “It’s okay.” She pats your shoulder. “No one’s gonna touch him, love.”

You bite your lip. You know.

You aren’t distressed because you’re mad. But because knowing that everybody will crave him and nobody will get him turns you on more.

The fact that you’re the only one he’ll look at with those starry eyes; with the hunger in his gaze. The only one he’ll press into your bed, lips close to your ears, whispering endearments and filthy, little promises.

This man wants you, and you can barely handle that truth.

New thoughts and ideas form in your mind, too wild and desperate to be occurring right in this moment. So you mentally whoosh them away, holding on for the rest of the neverending shoot until a round of genuine applause sounds around the big set.

God. Okay. Hours of torture later, and he’s done.

A shy bow. No. This monster might convince anyone else, but you know he’s not as innocent as he gives himself.

He jogs over to you, says quietly enough for only you to hear, “Don’t tell them, but that was great.” You can imagine. He backs away, looks down to his defined abs, “I need to change. And then we can head home, they said.”

You blink, perplexed and still out of words. Which he struggles to interpret, looking over his shoulder and then back to you. Unsure, he adds, “Unless you need to wrap things up.”

When a random shout echoes through the room, you awake, inhaling deeply before you tell him, “No, I. I mean, yeah, we’ll wrap things up, but that shouldn’t take too long. Should be mostly done when you are.”

He nods. Waves, and then steers towards the others, shaking hands and exchanging smiles. Short convos. Then, to the back room.

You’re too out of your mind and tired to chat much with staff. You go through the next steps, talk about waiting for the editor to be done with the photos, list the leftover things on your to-do list before the winter launch.

And that’s it. You meet Jungkook at the exit to the hallway, relieved when the end of the day approaches. On your way back home, you converse lightly, though he stops when you yawn one too many times.

He lets you rest as you pass shops and traffic lights, and holds your hand when you get off the vehicle. Drags you up the stairs; the climb is arduous. And then allows you to get ready for your slumber in peace.

The second the back of your head collides with the cold pillow, your eyes drop shut. The world spins behind your tired eyelids, adjusting to the darkness and the silence.

A sigh of relief pushes out of your mouth; a profound sense of tranquillity calms your lit nerves. Jungkook, next to you, seems just as exhausted because the yawn as soon as he slips under the covers is long and tear-inducing.

He’s blinking away the dampness of fatigue when you look over to him; you haven’t talked much since you arrived home, but Jungkook uses the moment to say, “I had a lot more fun than I expected to have.”

You’re so incredibly thankful for his last-minute rescue. But you can’t help but think of the muscles and expressions an hour prior. The seductive gaze, the lip accessory, the ring-clad fingers.

Perhaps it’s because of the time of the month, but you feel vexed by how affected you feel.

You control your tone, though the word still sounds monotone when you say, “Good.”

Catching upon it immediately, he shifts slowly, sniffling and head propping up on his hand before he asks, “Did you not like it?”

“Oh no, I mean,” you start, “you were amazing. I just didn’t know they’d send you out naked for the world to see. Thought the plan was to close a couple buttons.”

“The stylists told me. I think it was a spontaneous change because—”

You glance at him when he hesitates. A sly smile spreads across his features, just a little guilty yet amused as he watches your curiosity grow.

“What?” you ask.

“Nevermind.”

“Don’t be mean.”

“It’s nothing!” he exclaims. “We just thought it’d look cool. I thought you’d like it, too, actually.”

You did. That’s the issue. You liked it enough for it to burn into your mind, and now you can’t shake the image anymore.

No matter how many times you’ve seen him butt naked, buried inside you without a gap between your skin — something about his confidence and eyes stirred an unknown level of desire in you.

But you can’t tell him. Because the thing you want won’t be possible right now. You keep your thoughts veiled.

Instead, you unleash your annoyance because God, you hate him for being so hot.

“Right,” is all you say.

“Hey, don’t worry. Even if they ask, I’m not doing this again.”

“Might make you famous, though,” you mumble.

He snorts, fingers sneaking to your tummy, “So what? That’s not my profession. I didn’t study to become a model. Will work on my actual efforts.”

“Okay.”

The single word forces a sigh out of him, and he shakes his head, tapping his fingers against your stomach as he whispers your name thrice. Like he’s scolding you.

And then, “Are you jealous?”

“No,” you spit without hesitation, “of whom?”

You’re not. And you know that just for the moment, he won’t believe you. Which is fine. You’ll tell him the truth once your period’s over for the month.

“Of people who might see me and like what they see.”

Okay. Jerk.

At this point, he is doing it on purpose. You see it in the cocky smile and the jesting tone and the way his fingertips draw circles over your shirt, itching to sneak underneath the fabric.

You know him.

He’s so annoying.

“No,” you repeat.

“You sure? Huh?” Fuck, not that sulky voice. You close your eyes, but he raises your chin, making your head move. “Look at me, angel.”

“Hmm?”

“You said no, but you do look a little fiery,” he tells you. Yeah, if he knew that the real reason doesn’t lie in envy or whatever the world thinks of him. “What? My girl is jealous of people I won’t even perceive?”

No.

But she does feel the tickling, flattering lust pooling in her lower stomach, Jeon, thank you very much.

“Jungkook,” you start, although breathier when he moves closer, towards your neck. “Don’t be annoying.”

Which triggers a slightly mocking tone; he tuts before he says, “Baby bails on our date today. Will fight me in a restaurant. And then I’m annoying?”

Your answer is immediate and as shameless as can be.

“Yes.”

And it makes him laugh. Hot and sudden against your skin, his breath makes you shiver more than the relentless cold outside ever could.

“Not gonna lie,” he begins, “that brat behaviour isn’t too terrible.”

“Shut the fuck up, you just—”

He just what? You don’t know. Your sentence floats between you when his nose raises your chin, freeing the path to your neck before he’s nuzzling it slowly.

You feel goosebumps at the back of your neck, hair standing up, tingles across your body where you didn’t deem them possible. Under the blanket, your legs shift, and he hurries to move one of his between yours.

Hand still on your shirt, he places a barely-there, soft kiss to your neck; his fine tresses tickle your face and you crumble.

You have long forgotten your unfinished sentence, but he hasn’t. Asks, “What?”

You bury your nails into his arm, intrigued by the little hiss followed by a subtle laugh. Growing in volume when you say, “I kinda hate you right now.”

“Oh yeah,” he agrees, stretching the second word, “I hate you, too. Absolutely loathe you.”

You silence. Hold onto him when he French kisses between your neck and shoulder. And then breathe, “Then go away.”

“Mhh. Maybe I should.”

“Maybe…”

And then, out of the blue, his teeth dig into your neck like a gentle vampire, stopping immediately when you wince desperately. A hot tongue soothes the bite, a strong hand pushing you down by your shoulder again when your body lifts off the bed just a bit.

He keeps you in place, moving to your jaw. And when you whimper in lust and want, navigating his leg closer to your core, he curses, “Fucking hell, babe.”

Then, he’s inhaling, fingers wandering from your shoulder to your wrist as lips finally clash.

His body moves half onto yours, slowly gauging your reaction to the kiss as if he’s still expecting the burst of cumulated emotions. But when you give into his gesture, granting him your tongue, his face moves further against yours.

Undecided fingers let your wrist go, getting ahold of a patch of your hair. You hold his arms again until you wrap yours around him, fingers on the nape of his neck as you pull him in.

You tilt your heads in unison, deepening the kiss, drinking him up. Let him open your lips with his, keeping them like that, tips of your tongues playing with each other.

His touch drops to your waist and down to your pyjamas, pushing them down a little, grazing your panties. But then, his teasing palm floats up again and settles over one of your tits, squeezing once and drawing a telling moan out of you.

No bra.

He loves your little habits. You live through them casually, never noticing how badly they empty his mind.

Seems your head is blanking just as much at his touches; because you look delirious, lost, breathing in and out heavily. Jungkook basks in the expression, pushing a hand to your neck.

And only when he presses in gently, trapping you in place, do you seem to wake.

Eyes shoot open, and you inhale deeply, as if saved from drowning; remember every bit of today. The lines of his abs. The lip ring. The jewellery on his fingers.

You could ask for him to go on, to wreck you thoroughly. But of all arguments stopping you from doing so, there’s one damn reason that asks to prevent the mess.

Fucking period. Would create a literal bloody chaos. And you’re exhausted.

The thing is — if you asked him, you know he’d give it to you.

He’s reckless and careless. But you can’t risk the state of your sheets and the state of your mind. You have more work to do tomorrow; also, if you continued now, you’d be tired and immobile tomorrow, you know — and you need to be awake for this.

Fully in your senses.

Ugh. Fuck.

And the last damn day of the red waterfall, too. Thinking about it, perhaps that’s the reason for your agitation this week.

In hindsight, you know you’re never bitchy like that — he didn’t give you the nickname of an angel for nothing, right? Fuck PMS. Fuck mood swings.

Your poor boy, enduring the wrath of it.

But maybe you need to act pissed just a bit longer because—

“What?” he asks.

It’s not the time. So you stop him, pushing him away lightly. Shake your head, calling forth a crease between your eyebrows, turning away just a bit.

He falls back, once again keeping his upper body up by his arm. Inquires, “I— are you still mad?”

Truthfully, you answer flatly, “I’m on my period.”

“So?” he answers, laughing until he sees your lips, pressed into a serious line. “I’m not scared of some blood.”

You knew it. He’d give in if you told him to.

But what you want can’t be received during this time of the month. What you want requires unhinged chaos, carelessness, breathlessness. Craze of many minutes, hours.

You want more than a short, cautious session that asks you to peek at the sheets and the towel you’d get every now and then. You want to fucking lose yourself in hi—

“Let’s not,” you answer, your tone nonchalant, “Just. Let’s go to sleep, alright?”

He murmurs your name, trying again; but when you turn on your belly, giving a last sign to end the night, you hear him groan quietly.

You grimace when his head falls onto the pillow with an angry thump, movements under the blanket agitated as he scolds, “My God. Alright. You wanna be pissed for an entire week, then be pissed. I can’t do more than that.”

Oof.

If he only knew. And something in you tells you that he will very soon.

SUNDAY

Too lazy to work through the preparation process in the kitchen, Jungkook and you quietly decide to spend lunch outside.

The café nearby is a place you’ve wanted to visit for quite some time now. And despite the flaky, dry sandwiches they served, you’re glad time passed quickly, the awkward conversations between you coming to an end.

When you return from the bathroom, the sky above looks grey. Desolate. The weather forecast predicted a surprisingly pleasant late fall day, but the approaching rain is obvious. Which, you anticipated more than the weather forecast did, really.

That’s why an umbrella is leaning against the leg of the table, and you grab it as you watch Jungkook fumble with his wallet, stuffing it into his back pocket.

He gulps down the last sip of his Matcha Latte, dimples above the corner of his lips as he smacks the taste away. Then, he gets to his feet, asks, “Ready to go?”

Absent-mindedly, you nod, glancing to the sky and then back to him again. He looks sweet and domestic; but you can’t quite take him seriously. Not necessarily because of the fight anymore.

It’s been far too many days to still dwell.

But because of the damn lip ring, the open jacket, the gelled back hair. His destructive expressions. Like he could devour you whole.

Jungkook doesn’t stay angry for a long time, you’ve noticed. He always tells you how his temper used to be worse as a teenager, but how he’s learned to control himself.

Agonies of childhood, relationships and friendships taught him patience. And you notice. You truly notice.

Because he hands you your purse sweetly, immediately stretching his palm towards you. A slight smile spreads across his face, and you respond with a weak one of yours. Take his hand and let him lead you home.

You’ll walk the short distance; it shouldn’t take longer than seven or eight minutes.

And as you approach home, the hand holding yours mimics the motions of the one gripping the umbrella — he brings both arms into swing, somewhat euphoric but casual when he says, “The food was so dry there.”

It’s odd, talking to him like that after several days again. But you nod slowly, and agree, “I know. But at least we know where not to go anymore.”

“Yeah. But I mean, great beverages.”

“The milkshake, too.”

He tugs you a little closer, elbows soon touching, “I still think you should’ve gotten something warmer. You get a cold fast,” he looks up with squinted eyes, “and it’s already chilly today.”

You squeeze his hand as a thank you; Jungkook cares for you in little, subtle ways, and you’d lie if you said you didn’t think of it every now and then. You answer, “I feel fine, though.”

“Okay. Hope that stays.”

His palm, soft in yours, shifts until he’s intertwining his fingers with yours, attempting a stronger grip. You lift your eyes from the ground to his face for a second, meeting a gentle smile, and feel more pieces of your heart split.

They wander through your body, along your arm and straight into his chest, merging with his own organ. If you could, you’d push him against one of the unlit lamp posts, parted lips opting for his, breathing into his mouth.

He infested your thoughts and stuck with you, no way to escape the moment you first fell for him. And somehow, he managed to keep this effect intact, digging deeper into your mind and making himself home every damn second of the day.

The desire you’ve been feeling doesn’t just stem from lip rings and talent behind the camera. But you also keep realising that you’re truly this man’s, and that this man is truly yours.

A hard truth to fathom when you’re the subject of interest to one unique Jeon Jungkook.

But you want all of him. Want him over you, around you, taking all of what no other guy will ever be allowed to touch. Want him to show you once again where you belong and that you’re in this for as long as his affection is aligned with yours.

Fuck. Home is too far away.

So you look away from him. Which he interprets in an entirely wrong way.

“Are you still mad at me?” he asks, an inquiry out of nowhere that has your eyebrows kissing.

“No,” you answer.

“You barely talk to me. And,” he halts to wipe away a raindrop. Guess the clouds are gathering. “And I miss you.”

Your ribs might break. He keeps doing this to you.

“I’m not mad, Kook. Was just PMS-ing before,” you try again, adding a nickname for good measure.

“You sure?”

Jungkook is a free-spirited soul, careless to a healthy degree most of the time. There are only a few things that break his composure; familial insecurities, shitty pasts — and then there’s you.

Topping his list of priorities, you’re the only aspect in his current life that pushes him into spirals of overthinking.

And right now, he’s in the middle one, requiring a thousand reassurances. You want to answer. You really do.

But the distraction from above proves too strong the second you open your mouth. In the middle of your walk, the clouds explode, roaring for a moment before a downpour suddenly showers onto you.

The raindrops are thick, the bursting clouds aggressive.

Instinctively, Jungkook opens the umbrella, hastily working on it, and once under it, your steps pick up on pace. You wrap an arm around your body, closing the jacket, hooking your other arm with his and pushing the two of you forward.

“Shit,” you say; you look up, but can barely see anything. Only hear the thunder.

The wind grows colder, grazing the skin of your face incessantly. Despite the umbrella, the merciless rain wets your cheeks, singular drops flying towards you. Jungkook’s hair covers his face, and he shakes them off his eyes.

You gasp when a literal newspaper flies past you.

“Come on,” you encourage, already shivering. “We can talk about it at home, okay?”

But surprisingly, incredibly lost in his own head, he doesn’t give in. He adjusts to your pace, holding the umbrella in a strong grip, sighs and argues, “We can talk about it anytime.”

“Not now.”

“But—”

“Kook, right now’s not the time for this.”

Holy shit.

This man is a phenomenon. And you wish he wasn’t serious, but you know that he is. A full-on simp-y fool, no matter what.

“You’ve avoided me all week,” he yells over the sounds of the rain, sniffling, looking at the storm ahead, “we won’t die. It’s just rain.”

“It’s a thunderstorm, you idiot!” you exclaim back, moving straight forward and past running passengers. You should be home soon. “And in a minute we won’t be able to see shit.”

Jungkook must be made of cement. Broad shoulders, a well-trained body and willpower seem to combat the storm when he suddenly halts in his steps.

Immediately, you grab the umbrella, keeping it from nearly flying away; and when you remain the only presence under it, you ogle back. Watch him stand there in his red-white jacket, getting soaked by Mother Nature.

What the fuck.

You rush back, grabbing his wrist, pulling him forward as much as you can as you reprimand, “What the hell are you doing? Come on.”

“You’ll talk to me if I do?”

“Jungkook, we’ll die here, I—”

You flinch and gasp when another strong wind blows, once and for all ripping the umbrella off your hand and making it fly a couple feet from you. You watch it break through the fog of rain, mouth wide open with a dozen curses on your tongue.

“Fuck,” you exclaim, gritting your teeth, “I will. Just please, okay?!”

He’s so annoying. The way he looks at you, breathing hard, white shirt drenched and sticking to his body. You tug at his arm, forcing him to run when you do.

It takes you two entire minutes, wordless as you wish them to be, to reach his street and apartment. You tremble in the hallways, rushing up the stairs, and eventually take a seconds-long breath when you step into the flat.

It’s cold. So cold — and you had your jacket protecting your shirt. Your jeans and hair are soaked, your socks a sponge, soaked in a couple millilitres of water.

But it’s relieving when you take the jacket and your jeans off, pulling out the oversized, wrinkled shirt from under your pants, covering half your thighs. Jungkook slips out of his boots and rushes for a towel, approaching your heaving form at the door to dry your hair.

You quiver for a couple more minutes, fearing an approaching cold after all. But once settled on the couch, indulging in the comfort of thick joggers and a fresh cotton shirt, you sigh.

The silence still holding on only breaks when you drop your head back on the couch. A warm hand sneaks to your cheek, and when you open your eyes, he asks, “Are you okay?”

“Warming up…” You lean into the touch, though still irritated by his behaviour before. “Thought it’d rain, but that was a surprise.”

“Yeah.” A pause. And then, “Was a little romantic, too.”

Unbelievable.

You roll your eyes at him, head tilting, tongue prodding against the inside of his cheek. Perhaps he’s joking. The goofy smile suggests that he is.

“Was it, yeah? You just—”

You click your tongue. Think back to him nearly offering his soul to Zeus just a couple minutes ago. Standing in the heavy rain as if he was the lead character in The Notebook.

“Don’t be mad now. I’m kidding,” he says. His voice isn’t as soft anymore; frustrated when he tries again, “Talk to me. What’s the problem?”

“Seriously? I told you there’s nothing.”

“Nah, cut that bullshit. You haven’t talked to me or properly touched me all week. I’m trying my fucking best.”

“I know. This isn’t what it’s about,” you defend, shaking your head, getting to your feet, “but about that insane little stunt out there.”

And the fact that he’s been driving you crazy. The week’s distress mixed with whatever he made you feel yesterday; today’s insanity further adding to it.

When he doesn’t speak, you sigh, waving it off, and opt to walk away. But all in vain.

You make it two steps away from the couch before he flashes up, too; filmesque, you gasp at the strong grip around your elbow, getting a tiny second to process the situation before he’s twirled you around.

He probably didn’t intend it, but you nearly clash against him, stupidly losing your balance and stumbling over his and your own feet. You put a hand to your temples, fearing the worst — what if you fall and clash against the corner of your glass table?

But no. In slow motion, he keeps you in his firm hold, preventing the fall, but still letting you gently drop onto the fluffy, white carpet. Your investment. You’re happy about it now because it caught you the way the wooden floor wouldn’t.

Your movements towards the grounds are slow — or at least that’s what they feel like. But when he appears above you, pinning your wrists to the carpet hard, he’s breathless; and you think that maybe the fall didn’t happen as slowly after all.

“Okay,” he says through gritted teeth. From down here, his jaw looks as sharp as a ship’s deck, the Adam’s apple bobbing when he challenges, “You’re gonna fucking tell me what’s going on.”

Oh. He’s mad.

His eyes are burning, jaw flexed. Defined chest rising in anger.

There’s nothing going on. At least nothing that warrants another fight.

But you don’t tell him that just yet. Instead, all your perplexed mind and tongue manage is, “What?”

“I forgave you. We were both shitty that day, you know? But I still did forgive you, and you’re still being like that.” His knuckles must be paling, because his grip is iron hard. “Why?”

“I—”

“I’ll apologise if that’s what you want. I did, actually. I’m sorry, okay? There. But this is just,” fingers squeeze your wrists, and you hiss, “ridiculous.”

Your following grimace, lips twitching, eyes squinting, go through to him immediately. The hold doesn’t hurt or bother you too much, but the leg between your knees does. Jungkook wouldn’t wound you; he knows his limits.

But perhaps he thinks he’s going overboard when he loosens his fingers, pressing his palms against your skin, rubbing to soothe the missing pain.

He doesn’t quite move away, though, still stubborn when you assure once again, “I’m not mad at you anymore.”

“So you keep saying.”

“I’m not,” you tell him, heart racing at the proximity. You close your legs around his knee, irritated by the barrier. “I promise.”

He doesn’t give your gesture much attention just yet; doesn’t know that his body over yours is exactly what you’ve been craving. But he does understand the sincerity in your voice. Finally.

When he moves closer, pupils melting to fluid gems, you let out an intentional, teeny tiny moan that you’re sure he confuses for a relieved sigh. He moves his palms onto the carpet, caging you in; you keep your wrists where they are, but dig your nails into your skin.

You want to kiss him so badly. You miss him so much.

“Then tell me what’s wrong, angel,” he demands again, quieter and softer this time.

“I don’t know.”

With the fury evaporating bit by bit, his eyes look bigger and rounder again. The desperation of the week gathers in them and his expression, shooting all the way down to his tongue; and when he whispers to you next, your heart collapses, “Please?”

He’s sweet… so utterly oblivious to your true thoughts.

But you couldn’t feel more embarrassed about the pictures you’ve been painting and the words ghosting in that mind of yours. He’d do all of it, no questions asked. But… fuck.

“This is so dumb,” you answer, fingertips dragging down the carpet and then up to his waist, “like… you’ll laugh.”

The touch encourages him. His arms are shaking now, holding him up in this position for too long, and the wandering fingers along his sides and chest must weaken him like his lines affect you.

“That’s a good thing,” he answers, closer than ever when he balances his weight on his arms now, forearms touching the carpet. “I’d rather laugh than fight.”

But the closeness remains for mere seconds before he pulls back again, sitting up with a groan. Hands on his thighs, he lets himself fall on bended knees. He watches your still helpless body on the floor until you work on getting off the carpet, letting him pull you up when he offers a hand.

You ruffle through your hair, legs folding. Your pout is more directed towards yourself than anyone else; you totally realise you didn’t need to confuse him the way you did. Stupid period.

“Listen, I just…” you start, scraping your scalp.

His knees bump against your legs when he drifts closer; there’s something about the two of you sitting on your living room carpet like this.

“It’s just that I want to be able to walk tomorrow.”

And that’s it. That’s literally it.

He halts. His hand was moving up, probably to touch your face, your hair, anything soft to ease the mood. But he cancels the tender gesture, fingers falling back to his knee when he absorbs your words.

Silences with cocked eyebrows. Processes the way you lick your lips and look away, tugging at his wide shirt. And then, once he’s understood, he tsks. Chuckles.

And you, immediately on guard, push lightly against his shoulder, unsurprised when he doesn’t buckle, and defend, “Told you you’d laugh!”

“No, but,” he says, sweet crinkles around his eyes, head tilting and bunny teeth giving way to the prettiest smile in existence, “what are you talking about, hm?”

He knows. If only his feigned innocence was as sweet as his grin, too.

Still, you opt to clarify, “That thing you did yesterday.”

“What thing?”

Ugh.

“The whole modelling thing!” you exclaim, raising your hands. His beam reaches up to his eyes; his occasional giggles are killing you. “Stop. Do you have any clue what you looked like?”

He has the audacity to shrug. “They let me see the pics on their cameras. They’ll come out well.”

“Well? Dude, you looked…”

“What?”

“Dangerous. Like you could eat me up.”

Eat me up might be accurate. It’s the description floating through your little mind since yesterday.

“Ah,” he says, nodding smugly. You know he’s about to tease you. Because— “You specifically, yeah? I was just doing what they told me to.”

“What, is me specifically wrong? Anyone else you’d wanna eat up or—”

“You’re really fixating on that, huh?” Jungkook snickers. His tongue pokes the inside of his right cheek in a brief pause, and then he adds, “You’ve got a point. Didn’t think it’d affect you, though.”

Slowly, but surely, he seems to grasp his own power over you. You think he’s reminiscing about yesterday’s chaos and confidence; maybe even viewing it all from your point of view.

Because his smirk, albeit subtle, is sly when he asks, “What was it like?”

“I…” You click your tongue. “You’ll take me apart if I tell you.”

“Why so?”

“Because.” A beat of silence. You swallow to wet your throat. Then. “I’d ask you to.”

“Ah…” Another understanding nod, as though you’re lecturing him on NASA’s rocket science and he’s finally grasping its meaning. “Yeah?”

“I saw you from afar,” you point into a direction arbitrarily, as if he’s still several feet from you and not mere inches, “and I wanted to,” you inhale when a finger reaches out, straight to a vein in your neck, gentle, exploring, “let you do anything with me that you wanted to.”

“Ohh.” His palm covers your neck, as if he’s coddling you. But you know what that touch will morph into, so you sneak closer to him, lean forwards. “Anything?”

“Anything.”

“…Right.”

His thumb moves up and rubs under your jaw, then up your face and to your lower lip. The touch is soft and careful, as though gauging your reaction and searching for permission.

Your shaky, little exhale is nearly unnoticeable, but you know he catches it, and you know he already sees the consent in your eyes. But he still doesn’t lean in. Moves his eyes across your face, to his hand, to your neck and then all the way back to your gaze.

And then, contrasting the loving movements and affectionate gesture, he smiles. Mischief spreads in his stare, and his fingers retreat to the back of your neck, pulling you closer by a miniscule inch.

“So that’s what it was all this time? You’re on your knees for me, is that it?”

“Babe…” You look down, daring a joke. “Quite literally.”

You shuffle in your spot when he laughs quietly, hooking your fingers into the neckline of his shirt. You emphasise, “I mean it. Just… If you must know? I would’ve been okay with handing you all the control, okay? All of it.”

You’re aware you’re acting as though he doesn’t wreck your shit every other time, too. In fact, that’s probably how the two of you started out.

His absolute craze at the frat party, drunk. College nights when you’d confront him about your bullshit — weak excuses to make him press you against his dorm walls. A hand clapped over your mouth, your ass out, dick buried inside until you felt him in your guts—

You’ve always been at his mercy — but you want him to split you in half this time.

“You would’ve?” he repeats. “And now? Still want that?”

You look down again. There’s no shyness in that movement, no averting his beastly eyes — your focus lies elsewhere because you have a theory. Which proves true.

The swelling under his joggers, right there between his legs wasn’t there before.

So you gather your voice, and say, “…Yes.”

“Hmm. Why didn’t you tell me?” His fingernails dig lightly into your skin, and right in the middle of the tension, he pouts for a little moment. “I genuinely thought you were still pissed.”

“I was on my period…” You shrug your shoulders. “It was also late. I was so tired, and—”

He waits.

“I knew that you’d do it if I asked for it.”

“I would’ve.” What’s worse? The confirmation or the tickling breath against your cheek? When did he get so close? “I still would. If you want me to.”

“I just said yes,” you tug at the shirt, eliciting an amused grin as the tips of your noses collide, “you’ll keep asking and,” your heart beats at a million miles a minute, “just not kiss me, is that it?”

Your provocation proves effective just the right amount.

Because he opens his mouth, seemingly snarling — you can’t tell for sure, since his lips clash against yours within half a moment. Determined as his hand immediately flashes to the small of your back, supporting you before you fall backwards on the carpet.

And then he kisses you like a man starved. Like he’s run out of saliva, dehydrated. Seeks your tongue, tastes like earthy Matcha Latte and something you can’t quite define — something that’s so uniquely him.

Your kiss muffles his tiny sound, a mixture of a sigh and a moan, body impatient as he tries to push closer to you, though separated by your clashing knees. You understand — you, too, would let him smother you under his weight if you could.

So you pull your folded legs apart, shifting until they surround him and attempting to straddle him. But he’s plotting something else: his fingers hold your jaw, keeping you in place, and the hot, wet kiss breaks when he pulls away.

You catch a brief glimpse of glistening lips before he moves to trail down your body, leaning in to teeth at your shirt, pushing it off your shoulder and kissing your skin for a fleeting second. And when the shirt shifts back into position, his other hand works on your tits.

Grabs your shirt at its hem, lifting it over your mounds until they’re free, nipples perked, home to him. In a haze, the tip of his tongue touches the right nub, and you shiver.

More so when he whispers, “Am so hard for you, I’ll fucking combust.”

For you.

You’ll repent for how badly you want him in your mouth.

You caress his thigh, sneaking up until you reach the swelling under the fabric. You feel it immediately, firm as a rock, big and fat, so sensitive that he hisses once you touch it.

“No,” he commands, the word barely a breath, “no, no. Don’t or I’ll come like this.”

He says it against your neck. Warm and tickling. You feel goosebumps arise, your reactions slow, but your heart fast. His fingers engulf your wrist, leading your palm to his cheek; you feel the smileless dimple under your thumb when he darts out his tongue to wet his lips.

Then, you close your eyes; the pecks against your neck are exhilarating. The moving touch, down to your tits and then back up to your jaw is one of his favourite games; you move your hips against the carpet, soaked panties sticking against your pussy.

“You’re…” you start, fingers in his fluffy hair as he bites your nipple. You moan, your words shaky, “You’re— more into this today.”

“I mean… after everything you just said to me?” He chuckles, moving up, taking your chin between his thumb and forefinger. His mouth brushes yours.

“And I missed her.” Free hand between your thighs, he taps just over your clit; your lips part. “Too crude to say I can’t wait for her to swallow my cock?”

Well. Fuck.

If it wasn’t him, you’d cringe. But it is him, and the truth is that you’re dying for him to press himself onto you. To wrap himself around you, to wrap yourself around him.

You want him to cut you in half, want to be his little toy until you can barely stand.

“Maybe,” you tell him, “but I promise that she wants it, too.”

That’s it, that’s it.

It’s when teeth meet again, the kiss messy, your arms around his neck. He holds you by your waist, pulling you off the floor a little, readjusting his position, so you can climb onto him.

You tilt your head as far as you can, taking him in, drooling, lips and tongue moving wildly to taste all of him. His digits wander from your back to your ass, pushing between your cheeks and pressing against your clenching hole.

The gesture is short lived, but enough for you to rub against him. The urge to rip your panties and part your folds over his girth is profuse; to dampen his length and empty his balls just like this.

But he clenches his jaw, groaning. Halts your movement with a strong grip before pulling at your hair without breaking the kiss. You move your fingers up and down his arm, and then dash it upwards to bury them in his locks, too.

Only, instead of reaching his mane, your hand hits the glass table on your left; you grunt into the kiss and then move away to exclaim, “Ah, fuck.”

Jungkook must’ve heard the sound because he catches on right away, laughing. Gently, he pushes you off his lap, gets back on his knees and then up. He pulls you with him as he says, “Alright. Get on the couch before you hurt yourself.”

“Couch?”

You’re surprised; not the bed this time, is it?

Then again — Jungkook isn’t necessarily picky when it comes to this; cue flashback to bathroom adventures.

So you still listen. Wobbly legs drag you to the sofa, plumping onto it as you watch him follow. The bulge is huge, hotter than hellfire when he palms it and lets go again.

“Too damn lazy to get to the bedroom,” he declares before dropping back on his knees.

You thought he’d climb over you, push you back across the length of the couch. But instead, he seems satisfied with your helpless position, pushing back the carpet and table some to take a seat right in front of you.

You admire his patience — the outline of his cock presses against its confines. Does it not hurt? His expression doesn’t reveal any discomfort as he adjusts against the hard floor; the carpet barely provides any relief.

But the discomfort doesn’t redirect his focus, his touch heading towards you, urging you to remove your joggers at turtle’s pace. He throws them over his shoulder and onto the table, one leg of them dangling off of it.

Left in your panties, you watch his hands curl under your knees, freeing his way to where you want to ache. Lifts your legs, places them on his shoulders carefully, amused and delighted when your bent limbs drag him closer to your cunt.

His tenacious tongue peeks between his teeth, and he fondles your thighs before he reaches the hem of your panties. They bug him — separate your heat from his mouth; in this moment, a crime to him.

“Help me here real quick,” he whispers, and you raise your ass, letting him drag the underwear off of you.

It sticks to your pussy for a second, obscenely flooded with your gradually building arousal. You think he sees, because he halts for a second, eyes flitting up to you before he says, “I think this’ll be fun.”

“You promise?”

“Have I ever lied to you?”

Well…

You shrug your shoulders, but smile tellingly, eliciting a smirk that decorates his gorgeous face, closing in bit by bit. The cool air evaporates the nearer he draws, replaced by his hot breath.

And then… just to test…

He darts out his tongue, the sharp tip of it tickling your clit. Your reaction, much desired, stirs a new type of appetite in him. Because your chin trembles just once, just for a moment. Lashes flutter, and his heart skips a beat.

As he inhales, but never exhales, you question, “What?”

“Nothing,” he assures, blowing against your sex, “just. So very pretty.”

You look down at him. His shoulders look broader from here. Muscular, hair dark and silky. His lips are colourful, handsome, nose ready to bury in your pelvis. If he thinks you’re pretty, then he’s the definition of true aesthetic.

Slowly, you reach for his hair, brushing through it before you bring his head closer to you, hinting at the obvious, and say, “And you.”

“Not like you, though…”

He waits, allowing the both of you a moment of preparation.

And then… he’s kissing your pussy. Lightly at first, up and down, a hand on your inner thigh that moves closer and closer to your folds.

He sighs once before a digit parts your nether lips sticking together, and then licks a stripe between them. You whine quietly; his eyes close. He’s beautiful like this; in a minute, he’ll look at you again, mouth swollen, and you’ll wish for his touch to last and last and last…

“Please,” you only whisper, but he doesn’t answer.

Instead, his sweet kisses turn into something more. Way more wetness, way more tongue. And before you know it, he’s splitting your legs wider, pushing in to start devouring you.

Your moans are intoxicating. They’re sudden, but not surprising, voiced against the ceiling when your head falls back. The heels of your feet dig into his back, pushing him closer when his knees are already touching the couch.

The movements of his mouth are warm, a waterfall. He eats you out until he’s slurping, drenching you further. He’ll slide in effortlessly, you already know. Will bury every single inch of himself inside you, fill you up for the rest of the day.

And your high — it builds up embarrassingly fast. Perhaps because it’s been a while; or maybe because it’s Jeon Jungkook you’re dealing with. Either way, your lower stomach aches, the knot pressing against your guts.

“Kookie,” you murmur, yet again left without an answer.

He knows not to break his focus this time; knows that you’re close, recognises it in your grip around the patch of his hair. Hears it in your desperate whimpers, louder by the second. Words more unintelligible now.

Your thigh is twitching every now and then, quivering, and he takes it as a sign to keep sucking and swirling. Then flicks his wet muscle over your engorged clit, adding to your exclaims when his nimble fingers glide into you swiftly.

Too swiftly. Two of them are barely enough; and he adds a third. Your cheeks heat up, body sliding down — partly because you’re dying inside, partly because he’s pulling you towards him.

Jungkook knows how to navigate your body, how to direct you towards a rationality-breaking explosion. And he does. He does with the plethora of lustful licks, softly circling around your clit. His nose presses against it every time he shifts downwards, tasting you thoroughly.

“I’m almost—” you voice, and he hums, vibrations torture.

It’s a game to him that he’s skilled at; he understands his moves, and he never loses. Neither today as he clamps his hand onto your waist, fingers pumping in and out of you, curling and digging, massaging your favourite spot.

They turn and twist, two fingers of his free hand settling around your clit and raising it for better access.

It takes probably half a minute longer… and then… then…

Your voice grows in pitch, nearly illegal for a Sunday afternoon, but music to his ears. So genuine and sweet. Corners of your eyes glistening. He holds your legs apart as you start begging, but all he truly makes out is the eager repetition of his name.

He wishes your shirt didn’t cover your upper body; wishes he could see the heaving of your chest, the perked nipples, the sweat on your clavicles.

But for now, this is enough.

The way he sees waves of pleasure wash over you, eyes rolled back, not looking at him anymore. Your lips are dry, your tongue probably, too, and he wants to kiss it wet again.

You moan and wince and keen, body restless. The tug of his hair becomes more prominent and palpable, but the sensation makes him smile. You’re probably barely noticing, too.

That is, until your hold and breathing finally calm down. You keep riding the wave, your head turning in odd circle-ish shapes. He kisses your pussy, helping you through it, only stopping when you open your eyes.

“Well, that was…” he says, lips as swollen as you anticipated, shimmering, “a good start.”

“Every single time,” you begin, panting, shaking your head. You watch him as he gets on his feet, moving in to your mouth. “Every single time I think it can’t get better, and then I remember it’s just the fucking beginning.”

He shifts to you slowly, grazing your lips, and declares with a soft smile, “More to come, I promise. Gonna have so much fun with you.”

“Do your worst—”

One more kiss. Shorter this time, but you recognise the familiar, lingering taste immediately. Neutral, not too bad. Fills you with pride, because he never fails to guarantee that he loves it.

But you can’t wallow in it because he retreats quickly, impatient hands freeing his golden body from his clothes. The shirt falls somewhere next to the carpet, his own joggers soon discarded, landing on top of yours and sliding to the ground together.

He’s a menace when he climbs onto the couch, knees digging in and creating a shift on each side of your body. His bulge, still hidden behind his boxers, floats in front of your face; from this close, you see the droplet of precum darken a spot of the light purple cotton.

“Next stage?” he wonders above you, stroking your hair gently, as if he’s not about to explore the back of your throat. “Want or do I rather not?”

“What do you mean with not?” Your breathing is heavy as you lift your palm and engulf the imprint of his dick. He flinches, hips moving back a bit before they come back. “Get this shit off.”

He chuckles. Brings his hand to your cheek, thumb caressing it and voice clear when he says, “You’re so cute. Being demanding and all.”

But he still listens. Gets off the couch, slides his underwear off, leaves you gaping.

Gaping at the hooked and girthy tower. Gaping at how the slit on top of his head glimmers. Gaping at the moles along the stiff length, staring at the thick veins, at the full, firm balls.

“Tongue out,” he orders; you do.

The ink-free hand pushes his dick down to you, tapping it against your tongue as you open up wide. He feels heavy, hot, the skin smooth. Your head moves forward to swallow more, but he pulls back.

Strokes himself for a couple seconds, thumb spreading the precum over his head. You drool. Watch attentively, as though you’re learning — until he eventually guides it back to you and positions it into your still gaping mouth.

Enters it slowly. Slightly salty. Then says, “Breathe. And don’t overthink it too much.”

Huh.

Well. Damn.

Because…

At times, you do worry about your expressions; about your tears when you gag around him, the coughing fits you get in the middle of it all. So that’s a surprise. Attentive.

But your mind is blank today anyway; so you nod, moving to lick the underside of the tip, and he laughs, mumbling, “Alright. Have it, babe.”

And you do.

Slowly at first, cautious as you twirl your tongue around him. You don’t notice much discomfort just yet, thankful that he’s easing you into this. A third of his length buried inside, you close your lips around him and hollow your cheeks.

Which is probably when the invisible threads holding him back finally break.

“Okay,” he says, “you got this.”

His knees move in, more inches intruding. His fingers drift to the back of your head, and you dig yours in his brawny thighs. He grows harder in your mouth, impossibly bigger the more you drag your lips along his member.

How gratifying. You’ve craved this for hours and days. What was your argument about again?

Your head drops further back when he shoves himself inside, more and more as time passes. You imitate his prior advances — hum and close your eyes. Bring a hand to the base of his cock, pumping all that you won’t be choking around.

When you gaze up at him to analyse his reactions, he leaves your mind vacant. Because his head is raised, like yours, jawline edged and acute. Mouth open until he meets your eyes.

You hope he’s seeing something just as lascivious and mind-numbing from his perspective. Maybe messy hair, laying against the softness of your shirt. Or a cock appearing out of and disappearing behind pretty lips.

Slowly blinking eyes that shut just as slowly again, and a tongue that falls out and licks along a vein whenever your head moves to the side. Allowing you a couple deep breaths.

He must be perceiving it all, too.

Because a moment later, he gnarls, like a wild animal, and states, “This won’t do—”

—Before putting both hands under your ears, holding your head and…

Ramming his cock into your mouth.

You gasp around him, taken aback and delighted at once. Feel the effect between your legs, hoping to not defile the couch too much.

Head still thrown back, falling further, you already feel the ache in the back of your neck. Your attempts of holding onto the couch prove futile because there is nothing to hold onto, armrests too far away; so you return to his thighs.

But he keeps your body steady, held at the spot between his legs. Your head is a different story: it bounces back and forth, the exhales through your nose frantic as he pounds into your throat before he slows down again.

“Good, gooood,” he drags out, observing the glistening veins as he draws back to his tip and then moves in again. “Doing very, very well. Looks so gorgeous, baby.”

You don’t know what he’s talking about — about you, his cock, the position. Everything?

He keeps up the gentler pace, allowing you a break. Allowing himself the pleasure of this very image. Pretty lips surrounding a pretty dick.

And perhaps your desperate, little moans, accompanied by rapid blinking, set a fuse loose in his brain.

Because a moment later, Jungkook dares a step further — cock already stuffing your entire mouth, he pushes in more. The fat monstrosity reaches far, your gag reflex not as much at bay anymore as before.

The view seems to spur him on, though, and you can imagine why. If you were him, you’d probably enjoy the drooling mess under him, too. Salivating all over his dick, you feel the gross drop of your spit land on your clavicle, throat constricting as he thrusts in.

And just when you’re about to tap his thighs — very reluctantly, too — to catch your breath, he pulls back, fingers immediately digging into your cheeks to straighten your neck and head. You cough, eyes teary, your breathing quick and uncontrolled.

Like a toy, he moves your head to the left, to the right, a sly smirk playing around his lips until he moves down to you, back arched. Amidst your panting, he presses a brief kiss to your mouth, slippery against the dampness.

And then he says, as casually as he shouldn’t, “You’d look so beautiful in leashes.”

“…What?”

But he ignores your mumbled inquiry, instead thumbing at your lower lip. His dark eyes flit from one facial feature to another, pink lip caught between his teeth. The firm chest rises dangerously when he breathes in.

“Should I come in your mouth?” he asks as if you’d ever say no; as if you don’t know that he’s asking because he won’t. “Huh? Shoot it all the way down your throat?”

“Do it, fucking coward.”

…And just like that, he moves back.

tumblr is cruel and the 1k block limit in the new editor won't let me post the entire thing at once lol so here's the rest in a reblog!!! <3

#jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #bts smut #bts fluff #jeongguk smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts x reader #bts x you #bts imagines #bts fic #jungkook scenario #jeon jungkook smut #thebtswritersclub #jungkook fic #jungkook imagines #jungkook

4K notes · View notes

hellbornsworld · 7 months

Text

JUNGKOOK FANFIC RECOMMENDATIONS(4)๑‿︵‿୨

.⋆｡⋆ ༶ ⋆˙⊹ع˖⁺ ⋆ ୭ .⋆｡⋆༶⋆˙⊹༺⋆｡⋆༶⋆˙⊹.⋆｡⋆ ༶ ⋆˙⊹ع˖⁺ ع˖⁺

✿ When She Loved Me | CEO!JK X Reader | One-Shot | @jungkookstatts

✿ Sleepaway | Yandere!JK X Reader | Series | @flowesona

✿ Mine | Jungkook x Demon! Female Reader | One-shot | @playmetheclassics

✿ Your eyes tell | Yandere!JK X Reader | Twins AU | @angellgguk

✿ Noir | Daddy!JK x Little!Reader | @bonny-kookoo

✿ Love Is a Game: For Political Enemies | JK X Reader | @lleldey

✿ petals with luv | Emporer!Jungkook x PalaceWoman!Reader | Hanahaki AU | @hisunshiine

✿ a lover’s bond | jungkook x female reader | greek mythology! AU | @latetaektalk

✿ love in the dark | Ceo!JK X Reader | One-Shot | @spideyjimin

✿ Like I’m Famous | Idol!JK X Reader | One-Shot | long distance au | @softyoongiionly

✿ I’ll Be Home for Christmas | Pilot Jungkook x female OC | One-Shot | @bluewhale52

✿ Falling | jungkook x female reader | Soulmate AU | @starshapedkookie

✿ Pick Your Fighter | gamer!jk X gamer!reader | @jikookiekosmos

✿ angels like you | Jungkook X Reader | S2L | One-Shot | @aquagustd

✿ Killing me softly with his touch | JK X Reader | One-Shot | @borathae

✿ Bad Man | Badboy!JK X Reader | @bonny-kookoo

✿ The Monster in the Dark | yandere!sleep paralysisdemon!jjk X fem!Reader | One-Shot | @themochiverse

✿ S O U L M A T E S | Crackhead!Jk X Reader | Series | @smaubts

✿ bad romance | badboy!jungkook x goodgirl!reader | One-Shot | @noteguk

✿ No Guardian Angel | The Crow!Jungkook X Reader | @jiminstonic

✿ Love Letters | Prince!Jungkook × Maid!Reader | @bonny-kookoo

✿ LESSON I | YandereTeacher!jungkook x bully student fem!reader | Three-Shot | @redsaurrce

✿ RED | demon!jk x fem!reader | Series | @armpirate

✿ Follow the White Rabbit | idol! jungkook x idol! reader | @youthguk

✿ ＮｕｍｂｔｏＴｈｅＦｅｅｌｉｎｇ | Dark! Shitty! Yandere! Jeon Jungkook x Fem!Reader | One-Shot | @pynkgothicka

✿ Delivery Date | pizzadeliveryboy!jungkook x reader | One-Shot | @dntaewithluv

✿ Who is in control? | jk x reader | Drabble AU | @ctrlsht

✿ sweetest apparition | nerd!jungkook x popular!female reader | @jeonfiles

✿ m y s t r a n g e a d d i c t i o n | professor!jk X student!Reader | One-Shot | @joonberriess

✿ to err is to love | dilf!jk /ex husband!jk / ceo!jk x afab reader | Series | @jungkookschin

✿ polarity | BestFriendBF!JK X Reader | Series | @darkestcorners

✿ KILL TO KISS YOU | Yandere!Jungkook x Prostitute!Reader | One-Shot | @chummywchimmy

✿ Ode To The Nature Of Romance | Jungkook x Reader | @yeoldontknow

✿ Cabin in The Woods | Werewolf!Jungkook x Human!Reader | One-Shot | @girl8890

✿ Nothing was gonna stop me | Jeon Jungkook x Reader | One-Shot | @wildestdreamsblog

✿ Teacher’s Pet | professor/dilf!jungkook x student!reader | Series | @axigailxo

✿ prima nocta | king!jungkook, virgin!reader | royalty au | One-Shot | @yoon2k

✿ End of Time | Jungkook x Reader | Series | @deepdarkdelights

✿ 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬 | Yandere!JK X Reader | @euphoricfilter

✿ Paint | painter!jungkookxassistant!reader | @hongjoongscafe

✿ 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆 & 𝑷𝒆𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒔 | environmentalist! jungkook x college student! reader | @miraclesatnightfall

✿ The Broken Vow | Husband!JK X Reader | One-Shot | @lleldey

✿ Euphoria | bad boy jungkook x librarian yn | @btsydtrash

✿ White Pearl | CEO Sugar daddy Jungkook x stripper sugar baby reader | @lovelyspring7

✿ just a little bit of your heart | JK X Reader | @chemicalpink

✿ imminent danger | jungkook x reader | @whatifyoulivelikethat

✿ Knockout | boxer!dad!jungkook x pregnant!reader | Drabble | @jvngkook97

✿ Please Love Me! | Frat President Jungkook x Succubus Reader | @icedmatchatae

✿ The Boyfriend Experience | Escort!Jungkook x Fem!Reader | @shina913

.⋆｡⋆ ༶ ⋆˙⊹ع˖⁺ ☁⋆ ୭ .⋆｡⋆༶⋆˙⊹༺⋆｡⋆༶⋆˙⊹.⋆｡⋆ ༶ ⋆˙⊹ع˖⁺

OTHER POSTS:

JUNGKOOK FANFIC RECOMMENDATION(1)

JUNGKOOK FANFIC RECOMMENDATION(2)

JUNGKOOK FANFIC RECOMMENDATIONS(3)

ALL BTS MEMBERS WATTPAD RECOMMENDATIONS(1)

BTS X READER WATTPAD RECOMMENDATIONS(2)

3K notes · View notes

c0llisiion · 2 months

Text

NEED TO KNOW — j.jk

★Pairing: jeon jungkook + f!reader

★genre: smut

★: older!jk, dads bestfriend!jk , oral (giving and receiving ) , unprotected sex , reader has a crush on jk, bachelor!jk, big dick jk, size kink kinda, hair pulling, gagging, slapping, pervert jk , dry humping , anal play , degradation, name calling, nicknames - lmk if i missed any!

★W/C: 4,395

A/N: remember that time I mentioned a jk fic that i was writing? This is that fic. Literally put this on hold for 2 months and finished writing it last night 😭 anyways enjoy!!

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★ MDNI. Please refrain from reading if the topics make you uncomfortable. ☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

“But i dont wannnnaaaaa goooooo!..” you whined as you declined your dad’s offer to go to his big company party. “Sweetheart this is a huge deal for me …” your dad countered. “… more over, mr.jeon is going to be there ..!” Your ears perked up at the mention of Mr. Jeon. The tall, tatted bachelor with his piercings and built body, who has been your dad’s best friend since his college days.

Since you were a teenager, you have had the biggest crush on him. He was perfect in every way. He was older. More wiser. Handsome. Just your type. The initial infatuation was small, but as you grew into your adult years, it grew stronger.

You were starting to dream about him. Not even the usual kind. Wet dreams.

He grew older like fine wine. Body covered in beautiful art. Built like an actual Greek god.

Surprisingly, he was not yet married, even though he was well off in his late 40s. He used to say 'no woman has ever caught my attention' when someone mentioned him still being single at his age—from what you've heard.

Your dad and him, being business partners, frequently bring him to your home. Always hanging out at the bar or in your dad’s study. You capitalized on these small visits and began attempting to attract his attention. Whenever he came over, you started hanging out at the bar. Offering to make him special drinks. Talking about his interests , which you found out through intense stalking just to impress him. wearing revealing clothes, buying him his favorite food and snacks whenever you visit his office to pick up something for your father. You got very close to him. Your obsession with him became stronger because he seemed so nonchalant about your little tactics. The worst thing you have ever done was hire someone to break off one of his relationships. Only you were meant for him. No one else.

Hearing your father say that he would be there was another opportunity to impress him. You shot up. “WHY DIDN’T YOU SAY THIS BEFORE???” You say as you rummage into your closet for the perfect dress. Your father believed that your attraction to Jungkook was innocent and similar to that of a child. You had always said you hated the smell of alcohol, so he thought it was strange for you to start hanging out at the bar. Despite noticing many changes, he dismissed them as 'innocence', so he expected you to join him if he mentioned Jungkook. He left your room with a satisfied smile on his lips. You finally found the dress. A satin spaghetti strap dress in black, his favorite color, with a dangerously low open back. The dress was revealing when you put it on; the side of your boob was peeking out, but it hugged your curves perfectly. As the time got closer, you finished up spraying on your most expensive perfume, taking a final look at yourself before leaving.

The party was classy. A huge venue with what appeared to be millions of waiters with champagne. Upon entering the venue with your family, your eyes immediately searched for Jungkook. It wasn't long before you spotted him in the middle of a small group. He seemed to notice your family and hurried towards all of you without delay. As he got closer, your heart was beating fast. “Hey hey! My man!” He said taking your dad into a tight hug. “You could have come a bit more later!” He said sarcastically, taking a jab at your dad’s late-coming habit. “Don't blame me! This one took too long!” Your dad exclaimed, hugging you by your side. Jungkook’s eyes landed on you. He stared you down. Taking in each and every curve, his eyes eventually landed on your chest before he looked at your face and smiled. “So glad you came! You look gorgeous tonight.” He said, taking in your hand and kissing the back of your palm slowly, in a sensual way, while deeply staring into your eyes. He pulled away and rubbed the skin with his thumb before giving you a smirk. You felt your insides melt and your brain malfunction at his simple gesture. You were frozen in place and didn’t know what to do. You shyly backed away and looked down , trying to hide your wide smile with your bangs, which Jungkook took notes on.

Time flew by as you watched Jungkook speak in front of the huge crowd with charisma and confidence. One of his best traits. He always caught everyone’s attention with his choice of words and tone. It was embarrassing for you to admit that, but it turned you on. Your legs were crossed, rubbing your thighs together from time to time, and no one seemed to notice, except for Jungkook, of course. He eyed you every time you made a small movement.

All the speeches and boring talks concluded, which made you run out onto the balcony for some fresh air. You stared off into the distance, thinking about what Jungkook had done to you earlier. Was it platonic? Was he just being nice? Does he have feeli- “did all those old men bore you out?” Jungkook was behind you. His voice husky. His lip and eyebrow piercing, shining under the moonlight. You were caught off guard and turned around to see ‘your man', “mr.jeon! Ugh you scared me!” You said dramatically, placing a hand on your chest. He gets closer with a charming smile on his face and hands in his pockets. “My apologies. I didn't mean to scare you!” He let out a soft chuckle. “How is your night going?” He asked you. “Hm? Oh good i guess, it’s kinda boring, but i would do anything for my father..” He chuckled and gave you a side eye. “For your father? Really?” it seemed like he knew the real reason why you were here in the first place. “Wdym really? I love my dad!” You said in a playful, offended tone. He chuckled once again. “Fine fine! I know how much you adore him.” You sighed softly and smiled.

“I like that dress on you. It suits you a lot.” He said while eyeing you. You blushed at his compliment, looking down and fiddling with your acrylic nails. “Thank you..” you mumbled under your breath. You feel him getting closer to you. “Sorry? I didn’t hear you, sweetheart.” His hands were on your hips, squeezing them softly. You froze in place. Heart beating faster. Your legs threatening to fall. His hands creeped towards your ass. Groping it softly, not wanting to seem too pushy. “Mr.jeon…-“ you let out a shaky whimper at his touch. “It’s jungkook for you, doll.” He said leaning in closer to your ears. He took a huge sniff of your neck and hair. “Thierry mugler alien eau de parfum? You have good taste.” He said while softly chuckling in your ears before pulling away. He lifted your chin so you can look at him. Your eyebrows were slightly furrowed as you stared into his intoxicating eyes. “What did you want to say earlier?” You gulped before speaking up. “Thank you… jungkook.” He smiled at you before placing a kiss on your forehead. His hands went under your ears, caressing the soft skin gently. Your eyes widened, and you just stood there. “I’ll see you around okay?” He said smiling before he left. You were standing put, like a statue, your limbs refusing to move.

A few days went by, and you were still processing whatever happened with jungkook that night. His kiss. The way his hands caressed your body. His little nicknames. It was just too much to process. You didn’t see or hear much from jungkook since that day. There were small interactions, but he seemed to ignore you each time. You were starting to get worried. What happened? What did you do wrong? Did you fuck up? Does he hate you?. You never stopped overthinking.

One morning, you heard the familiar voice of Jungkook from the kitchen, laughing and giggling with your father. You quickly put on your clothes and dolled up, still hoping to impress him, before you went downstairs. “Ah! She’s finally awake! We were just talking about you!” Your father exclaimed. You observed jungkook as he sat on the kitchen island and ate what appeared to be lucky charms. His favorite cereal. He glanced at you briefly before turning away. You felt your heart shatter. After all that he did? Is this the way he treats you? . You walked past him and got yourself a glass of orange juice. “Did you sleepwell princess?” Your father inquired. Jungkook was still not looking at you. His gaze was fixed on the newspaper in front of him. “Yeah yeah i did.” You said putting on a fake smile. “Oh!” Your father exclaimed as he heard his phone ring. “Excuse me.” He said before rushing out of the kitchen.

You glared at jungkook and gulped down your orange juice before dropping the glass onto the table. Jungkook noticed your action, which made him put his newspaper aside and walk towards you. “What’s wrong?” He inquired, leaning onto the island. “Hmph!” You huffed, turning around. He let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “Come onnn! Tell me.” He said while hugging your waist from the back. You let out a heavy sigh before turning back around. “What did I do wrong? Why do you keep doing this to me?” You asked. “Doing what?” “Are you seriously going to act like you don’t know?” You said folding your arms. Jungkook had a confused look on his face. “You are ignoring me damn it!” “Ohhhhh! About that! I just didn’t have anything to say.” He said shrugging. You rolled your eyes at him. “Admit it, Jungkook, you just want to play with my feelings. You don’t care about me. You never did.” You let it all out. It was weird for you to act like this, but you couldn’t help yourself. Jungkooks eyes darkened, and he stared at you. You gulp. “You think I don’t care about you? Me? Not caring about you? You think i come to your house almost every other day for your father?” He said while pushing you down onto the island. He turned you around and hugged you close to his body; you could feel his clothed hard dick on your pussy. You shudder when he slowly grinds his hips into your behind. “Ya feel that doll? Thats how you got me everyday..” he said whispering into your ears. His free hand found your right tit before he gave it a squeeze. Tugging the thin white fabric of your crop top down to expose your hardened nipple. You hear him darkly chuckle in your ear before giving the sensitive bud a squeeze. His hips never seemed to stop as he continued dry-humping you. You felt yourself involuntarily lowering yourself on the island, pushing your ass back into him for more stimulation. He immediately pulls away, leaving you weak and clenching around absolutely nothing. You whined, turning around to face him with pleading eyes. “What?” He scoffed at how desperate you were. He got closer and fixed your shirt. He didn’t say anything and just rubbed your shoulders down before walking away.

A while later, you were napping in your bedroom. It was not uncommon for you to take naps in between the day since you were basically unemployed and didn’t have much to do, and you also needed one after what happened with jungkook.

All the blinds were shut, leaving the room completely dark. It was silent; the only sound that was heard was the faint noise of the air conditioner. You were in deep sleep and didn’t notice or hear Jungkook entering your room. You felt the bed sink next to you before you felt a cold hand on your hip. His hands, kneading the soft flesh of your ass before it grazed around your desperate cunt. You whine when you feel his fingers touch and draw circles on your sensitive part. “Shh..” he shushed you before pressing onto your pussy. He chuckles at how quickly you got wet. Your mouth was agape, soft grunts escaping every second. He slowly pushed you onto your stomach, climbing on top of you before pulling your pink panties to the side.

It was dark, and he couldn’t see much, but he could feel how soaked you were. He spread your cheeks and lowered his mouth down onto your cunt, sucking on it. Your eyes shot open, heavy breathing as you turned around to see the man of your dreams eat you out from behind. “Ju-jungkook..?” He shut you up by lapping his tongue over your dripping cunt. You let out a loud moan, your head falling sideways, already drooling even though he barely started. He lifted your ass up using his strong hands, making you arch your back. He dropped his head lower and started sucking on your clit, his big nose pressing into your soaking pussy. You grabbed a handful of his hair from behind and pushed him closer. He hummed into your pussy, making you gasp for air. Loud slurping and squelching sounds, along with his groans and your moans, echoed throughout the room. You were seeing stars. The way his mouth ate you out and the feeling of his cold lip ring on your pussy were beyond comprehensible. Your heart started beating faster as you felt your body warm up, and a knot formed in your abdomen. Jungkook took notes on your body language and pulled away. You cried out when you lost contact.

He leaned in and switched on one of your bed lights, finally giving the room some light. He observed your body. Your ass was still up, your pussy glistening with his spit and your arousal. It was clenching and unclenching around nothing. He let out a scoff before turning you around. Your face already looked fucked out. Tears painted your cheeks, and drool was all over your mouth. He hovered over you, placing a hand on the headboard. He used his other hand to wipe your face clean. “We have gotten ourselves a good hour; better make this quick, alright?” You nodded softly and wrapped your hands around his neck, pulling him into a soft and tender kiss. He kissed you back and hugged you closely to his body. His hands went under your tee, squeezing your tit. You whined into the kiss. “You are so sensitive, sweetheart…” he mumbled. You break off the kiss and cup his face. “Jungkook… want more..” He tilted his head to the side and stared at you. He put on a smirk before standing at the foot of the bed.

He took off his pullover, revealing his tatted arms and toned abs and pecs. The soft bed light that was illuminating the room was able to capture every detail of his body. You stare. Hand in between your legs, squeezed shut. You bit your lip softly before your eyes met his. He gestured for you to come closer, which made you crawl to him. Your face was now right in front of his hard dick. You could see the bulge growing. His hand went behind your head, grasping your hair gently. You looked up at him with your doe eyes, which instantly made him fold, but he kept his composure. He gave you a nod, pushing your head closer to his crotch. Your nose nudged the bulge before your greedy fingers hastily unzipped his pants. Your eyes widened when his cock sprung out and hit his stomach. He was big. Girthy. The tip was red, and you could see his precum peaking from the slit. Without wasting time, you took a stripe from the base of his dick until the tip before you sucked on it. He hissed at the feeling of your plump lips sucking on his sensitive tip. He was starting to get impatient and pushed your head down, filling your mouth even though he was only half way in. You looked at him with teary eyes as you choked around his girth. He almost lost it when you looked up at him with those eyes of yours. His other hand caressed your cheek, pushing himself further down your throat. You could feel him. Your jaws were hurting, and you grabbed onto his hips for stability. Your throat spasmed around his cock. He noticed how you were kinda struggling. “Better make me feel good, okay? I want that throat to show me what it got.” With that, he started thrusting into your mouth. You started choking and gagging around his length, which just turned him on even more.

He yanked your head off of his cock. A string of pre cum and saliva connected your lips and his cock head. You looked up at him and whined, wanting his dick to stuff your mouth again. He bent down to your level before licking your chin clean, swallowing the mixture before speaking to you. “On your knees and hands, baby girl." You obliged immediately, taking off your flimsy tee before throwing your ass in the air and arching your back for him. You felt the bed dip behind you, and jungkooks long dick landed on your ass, slowly grinding through the sheer panties.His wet cock making it translucent. You whimpered, already feeling yourself getting hotter. “You are such a dumbslut.” He lowly chuckled.

“You think it wasn’t obvious?” He removed your skirt and ripped your panties. You gasp at his sudden action. “All these skimpy skirts and tops.. and just when I'm around? Were you that desperate, princess ?” He said while pushing his cockhead into your sopping hole.

You let out a loud moan; his tip was enough to stretch you out. “Not gonna lie… i was very flattered” gripping your ass cheeks as he slowly pushed further, letting you adjust to his size. He continued. “I only kept my cool because you were my best friend's daughter, but—holy shit-“ he gets cut off as you clench around his length, tears already dripping down your face. Your mind fogging up. You were constantly letting out soft moans and whimpers as he slowly bottomed down into you. “Woah there-“ he chuckled. “im not even half way in sweetheart” he said while grabbing a handful of your hair and pulling your head back. You looked at him with teary eyes. Lips quivering. He smirked before kissing your cheek. He let go of your hair and pushed your head down into the pillow using his hand. The other hand was on your hip as he finally pushed all the way in. “Since you are begging for it— ” you let out a loud scream as he filled you to the brim.

Although it was painful, the pleasure made you forget about the pain. you felt warm spit fall on your pussy as he starts moving. “Gon’ fuck you silly, alright? Isn’t that what you wanted? Getting dicked down by your father's friend? What a whore…” You nodded incoherently. A loud cry left your lips as his hips thrust into you harshly. His pace was slow, but the way he thrust in was so... Your body was moving forward with every thrust. Sounds of wet skin slapping echoed through your room. You were not able to focus on anything. His pace increased, and so did the harshness of his thrust. You clenched around him, making him fall forward. He caged your tiny body under his larger one. “Fuck babygirl.. you are gonna rip my dick off..” he chuckled. “Jungk-kook… feels too good…” you managed to blabber out as he fucked into you like a madman. “Yeah? you like that? You liked getting fucked by older men, dont you sweatheart?” You whined as his large hands gripped your hair.

This was wrong. Very wrong. This man has seen you grow up. He has been there since you were a baby.

“Let me hear those pretty sounds…” he said while landing a tight slap on your ass, reddening the area almost immediately. You gasped and whimpered, letting out a loud pornographic moan as Jungkook hit a specific spot. His other hand found your swollen clit and started drawing rough circles on it. Pinching and tugging the abused nub. Your legs trembled, and your moans got louder. “F-fuck! Jungkook…don’t s-stop! Feels so good!” You babbled. Jungkooks eyes were focused on your pussy. The way you took in his length. Your milky white cream coated his entire length, collecting at the base of his cock.

He stopped thrusting in you for a moment. You whined as you felt him suddenly stop. Jungkook smirked before leaning over and whispering in your ears. “Fuck yourself on me, doll.” You cried in defeat. Jungkook placed his hands on his hips, waiting for you to start moving. You gulped before slowly rocking your body forward and backward. You could feel his every inch penetrating the insides of your gummy walls. His large tip hitting your cervix over and over again. “Thats all you can do? Wow.. so pathetic..” he scoffed. You shook your head furiously and started going faster. Jungkook let out a satisfied groan as he watched your ass ripple. “Play with that little clit of yours.” He commanded. You reached down in between your legs, finding the sensitive nub almost immediately. You slowly rubbed your clit, sending shivers down your spine. You moaned out as the stimulation of your pussy and clit was getting overwhelming. You fucked yourself faster on his cock. Mouth in a soft ‘o’ shape and eyes crossed as his cock hit your gspot every time you moved in and out. Jungkook was in a different world. His eyebrows were furrowed, and sweat dripped down his neck. He was close to cumming just by seeing you fuck yourself on him.

His hands spread your ass cheeks, before a glob of spit landed on your asshole. You shuddered and panicked, stopping for a moment. “J-jungko-?” “Just focus on fucking yourself; everything is going to be alright…” he reassured you. You nodded before going back. His long fingers toyed with your rim. You grunt when you feel his fingers prod into your asshole. “Shh- shh.. youre safe .. jus’ wan’ try something new..” You gulped and shut your eyes tightly as his fingers ventured further into your asshole. He shoved three of his fingers into you, making you moan out loud. “Fuckkkkk- so tight…” he whispered. You melt and crumble when you feel his fingers move inside of you. You buried your head in your pillow, muffling out any unholy noise.

Your pussy and asshole clenched around his fingers and dick, making him groan. “So damn sensitive… has any guy fucked you, this good princess?” You shake your head. “N-no sir …” Jungkook shot up at the name. His fingers increasing in speed. You let out choked-out moans and cries as his fingers curled inside your asshole. “Say that again, will ya?” His other hand found your hips and started stretching your pussy out again. “Please.. f-fuck me harder… sir.” That was all it took to make Jungkook go feral. His cock left your pussy and was immediately shoved inside your sensitive ass. Your eyes shot out, and you couldn’t make any noise as you looked back at jungkook with tears rolling down your cheeks. He pinned your wrists behind your back before moving in and out. He struggled, initially. curse him for not stretching you out more, but his cream-coated cock provided enough lube for him to start pounding into you smoothly. “Shits so fucking tight- gah-“ your lips quivered and legs trembled as Jungkook fucked into you with great strength.

You screamed out, finally getting your voice back after he fully plunged his cock into you. Your cunt was leaking arousal, dripping down your thighs. Jungkook didnt seem to stop. His heavy, cum-filled balls were slapping against your pussy. “Jungkoook…- its too- too much!” You cried out. “Take it. You are a big girl. Take it like a big girl. I know you fucking can. Look at your little ass sucking me in. So good. So fucking good.” He pulled your body back and pounded into you. Your face was a mess. You cried and moaned like a bitch in heat every time he filled you to the brim. You felt your orgasm approaching as the feeling of the familiar knot in your stomach began growing. “Jung-jungkook- gon’ cum…” you whined. “Go on princess… be a good girl and cum all over me..” you nodded weakly, focusing on reaching your high. Jungkook flipped you over, laying you down on your back. His hands pushed your legs up against your chest. You were in ecstasy as the new position had you seeing stars. You observed Jungkook's sweaty body and fucked-out face.

A slap was landed on your glistening, sopping pussy before two fingers were shoved inside them. His thumb stimulating your clit. “Ngh- oh fuck- jungkook m’ so close…!” Your eyebrows were knit together, and sweat dripped down your face. The overstimulation getting too intense. Both his hips and hands increased their pace, determined to help you reach your high. You saw white as Jungkook pressed down on your sensitive bud. Clear liquid gushed out of your pussy and landed on his abdomen. You screamed as he continued fucking you through your orgasm. “Yeah.. just like that.. so dirty.. you are such a dirty little girl..” Jungkook's movements got sloppier. Your orgasm turned him on by a mile, and he was close to cumming himself. You twitched under him, still not over your intense orgasm, not noticing that he had slipped out of you and was furiously jerking himself off. His head was thrown back, and soft moans left his mouth. His breath hitched when a load of his milky white cum shot out all over your body. Coating your stomach and your boobs. You moan as you feel his hot cum land on your body, taking the mixture in your shaky fingers and licking it off while staring into his eyes. Jungkook smirked at you with half-lidded eyes.

“My dirty little girl."

A/N: HEHE THANK YEWWW 4 READINGGG! how was it tho? This would have been a stepcest fic but i changed my mind in the middle 🙁💔 im currently writing fics from my inbox! You can send in your rqs <3

3K notes · View notes

vminizzle · 10 months

Text

Sweet lips

pairing : playboy?jungkook x nerd!f.reader

genre : SMUT

warnings : CRINGE ASF, soft dom!jk, sub!reader, shy!reader, tattooed!jk, mention of being cheated on, mention of multiple partners, mention of corruption kink, a lot of teasing, swearing, making out, exhibitionism, public sex, !!consensual!!, marking, fingering, finger sucking, hair pulling, slight dry humping, orgasm denial, oral (f.receiving), oral (m.receiving), cum swallow, overstimulation, multiple orgasm, (jk is a pleaser), pet names, praising, possessiveness, dacryphilia, penetration, unprotected sex, missionary, jerking off, aftercare :)

words count : 7.9k

you can read part 2 HERE

A/N : Well, hi back my dear friends! I’m so happy to be back, it’s been so long since I wrote something. I took a hiatus to concentrate on myself, and other personal stuff. Unfortunately for me, I extended my break since I needed time to recover from my exams results. You got it right, I didn’t pass my year. I decided to re-do it one last time and do my best. I hope I will pass this year. Well, enough of me. NOW, I’m finally posting again! Here’s my “comeback” fic lmao. I tried my best - it’s kinda difficult to write after a long break but I wanted to write something good for you guys. But please don’t expect something awesome. REMINDER : POOR ENGLISH. And so many words had been repeated sorry. Anyways, thank you so much for waiting for me, thank you for you support and love. I love you guys a lot - sunny [ fic heavily unedited ]

FEEDBACKS ARE WELCOMED 💤

M RATED

“hi there my favorite nerd.” you heard Jungkook announce his presence behind you, making you curse internally.

“Be quiet, you’re in a library.” you shushed him, reminding him where he was as he stood next to your chair.

“noticed that. boring.” he pursed his lips before taking your reading glasses off, putting them on top of his cap instead.

“Jungkook.” you whined annoyed when he pushed your book away, a smirk plastered on his face.

“what do you want this time?” you furrowed your eyebrows making him act like he was thinking for a few seconds.

“I want a taste of your lips.” he poked your nose lightly making you roll your eyes, before you stood up to walk toward the bookshelves.

Jungkook put his bag on the chair you were sat on, leaving his cap and your glasses on the desk, before following you to the shelves at the back of the library.

“so?” he watched as you scanned the row of book before you, searching for a specific one.

“hmm, you’re ignoring me now?” he approached you slowly, hand grabbing your wrist stopping you from taking a book.

“C’mon Jungkook, let go. What do you want?”

“I told you.” he backed you slowly to the wall, looking straight into your eyes as he spoke.

“I want a taste of your pretty lips.” he tilted his head to the side.

“I want to know, to guess, what’s your lip balm’s flavor today.” he grinned.

“Yesterday was watermelon. Wednesday it was strawberry and Tues-“

“enough.” you slapped his shoulder making him chuckled.

“Don’t you have anyone else to annoy?”

“No. I want to annoy you.” he pinched your cheek making you sighed heavily.

“I was studying.”

“I was searching for you everywhere on the campus.” he crossed his arms over his chest.

“I want you.” he said, looking straight into your eyes.

You stayed quiet for a few seconds, heart beating faster at his words.

“So, can I kiss you pretty girl?” he wiggled his eyebrows.

You stared at him, his hair perfectly styled, his strong cologne made you feel lightheaded, he smelled way too good - and the way his tongue played with his lip piercing…

“yes.” you agreed, looking down timidly.

He grinned satisfied before lifting your face.

He bent down a little to capture your lips into a slow kiss, your arms going up to wrap around his neck as he pressed his body onto yours.

Jungkook sucked on your bottom lip earning a soft moan from you.

“Shh. Be quiet, you’re in a library.” he teased making you roll your eyes at the chosen words.

“you’re so pretty today.” he complimented genuinely, his hands caressing your sides, a soft smile adorning his lips.

“Thanks.” you murmured shyly, feeling the -infamous butterflies- in the pit of your stomach at the compliment, making Jungkook smiled widely.

You felt his hand cascading down the side of your thigh making you gasp, looking at him surprised at the sudden move.

“what are you doing?” you whisper-yelled panicked, his fingers caressing the smooth skin of your thigh under your plaid skirt.

“nothing.” he answered, hand sliding between your legs.

You chewed on your bottom lip, feeling his hand getting too close to your panties as you closed your legs making him let a breathy laugh.

“Jungkook, we’re in public.”

“no shit Sherlock.” he said amused.

“there is no one here.” he shrugged.

“what if someone.. see us?” you asked uncertain.

“let them watch then.” he teased, a stupid smirk plastered on his face.

“Jungk-“

“don’t worry hm?” he started.

“you trust me?”

You stayed silent for a while before nodding.

“good.” he pecked your forehead.

Jungkook pushed your legs apart as he kissed on your neck softly. You felt his hand between your thighs again as he caressed your lightly covered core gently with his fingertips making you whimper.

“so sensitive.” he hummed, biting on your neck.

Jungkook suddenly got on his knees surprising you.

“what.. what are you doing?”

His hands went under your skirt again, slightly pulling on the hem of your panties making your body warm up even more.

“are you insane?” you panicked looking around.

“Be quiet angel.” he warned slapping your thigh lightly.

“Trust me.” he repeated making you gulp.

“Listen, we can stop at any moment hm.” he laid a delicate kiss above your knee making you feel weak.

“we still good?” he looked up at you making sure you’re not too uncomfortable so he would stop and not force you.

You took a deep breath before giving him the green light.

“good.”

Jungkook started kissing on the inside of your thigh, leaving light marks after his trail up to your core as he sucked on the warm skin.

You watched as his head disappeared under your skirt, one hand resting on your hip, the other one gripping on your thigh.

You gasped when you felt his lips against your clothed clit, a gentle kiss being pressed on the part you needed him the most at the moment. He could felt the wetness soaking through the fabric making him smirk.

You felt his hands caressed their ways up under your skirt to the waistband of your panties pulling on it lightly.

He glanced up at you checking if you were still fine.

Jungkook dipped his fingers into the panties’ waistband, dragging the soft material down your legs making you looked around anxiously.

“don’t worry angel.” he muttered, putting the damp panties in his Calvin Klein denim jacket’s pocket.

“I told you, there is no one here.” he caressed your calve reassuring you.

His fingers travelled up your leg before two of his fingers slid between your wet lips making you breathe heavily.

“fuck you’re dripping.” the man kneeling before you cursed.

You shivered when you felt his fingertips poke at your entrance.

“still with me, princess?”

You nodded making him hummed.

He inserted two fingers slowly inside you earning a chocked moan from you.

He moved in and out, feeling your warm velvety walls swallowing his fingers.

Jungkook lifted one of your leg, resting your thigh on his shoulder as his head disappeared under your plaid skirt again, your heart beating faster excitement running through your veins.

His mouth started working on your clit, sucking on bud of nerves erupting another moan from you, a louder one.

He slapped your thigh glaring up at you.

“Be quiet angel. Don’t wanna get caught, do you?”

You shook your head, tears forming in your eyes as he added another finger, twisting his wrist as he picked up the pace.

“You know, I don’t mind. But you.. tsk. Do you want everyone to see you like that? Me eating you out in the corner of the library? Do you want that darling?”

He tilted his head to the side innocently making you shook your head again pleadingly.

“so be quiet.”

Jungkook went back to suck on your clit, the tip of his tongue sliding over the sensitive bud of nerves.

You put your hand over your mouth to keep quiet as he ate you out. Pulling his fingers out, he replaced them with his tongue. His thumb pressed on your clit, rubbing on it gently as his tongue went in and out your core.

“fuck!” you whined, your fingers flying down to his long black hair tugging on the soft locks harshly as his thumb drew faster circles on your clit, applying more pressure on it.

Jungkook knew you were close, by the way your thighs were slightly shaking around his head, your fingers pulling harder on his hair, the little whimpers escaping your mouth, he knew your body well.

Pulling away, he inserted his fingers back inside you, repeatedly curling them so he could hit on that one spot that could make you scream his name shamelessly, his other hand holding on your waist firmly as he felt your knees buckling.

“Jungkook, I’m gonna- fuck I can’t.” you sobbed, biting on your knuckles to stay quiet.

“Cum.” he pulled his head back from under your skirt to watch your face as you come undone on his fingers.

“Cum for me doll.”

Your head hit the wall behind you lightly as you threw it back, arching your back, closing your eyes shut feeling your climax washed over you.

You moaned his name, a tear sliding down your cheek.

“you’re so pretty.” he groaned before going down to lick your juice making you flinched at the contact on your sensitive part again.

Jungkook collected the wetness between your legs on two fingers before standing up.

Looking straight into your eyes, he put the long digits in his mouth, sucking them clean making you open your eyes widely.

“so sweet.” he smirked making you looked away embarrassed.

He turned your face to him again, wiping the tear away before pressing his lips against yours. His body was flat against you, enough to make you felt his boner.

“guys, it’s somewhere there!”

You detached from the - what was about to become a heated - kiss when you heard a group of friends walking closer.

“wait, I’m not sure. What’s the subject again?” a boy snorted.

“C’mon bro.” one of them huffed.

“Whatever, let’s just go back at our table, I’m done.” another boy talked sighing loudly.

Jungkook chuckled making you look at him curiously.

“are you this scared people see us together?” he pursed his lips, putting one hand on the wall next to your head.

“no no it’s not that.” you waved your hands in front of you feeling flustered at the way he was caging you.

“what is it then?” he teased caressing your cheek with his knuckles.

“I just.. not like that. I mean, we were.. you know..” you tried to explain.

“Oh hm, my panties. Can I have them back please?” you played with your fingers nervously.

“no.”

“no?”

“you heard me.” he smirked, walking away scanning the opposed bookshelf.

“I can’t walk around like that.” you rushed to him grabbing on his arm.

“don’t worry about that, you’re coming with me anyways.” he shrugged.

“huh?”

“you’re coming home with me.”

“oh.. I thought I was tutoring you only on Wednesdays afternoons?” you asked dumbfounded.

“I need you to take care of something for me.”

“what?” you tilted your head to the side waiting for him to continue.

“that.” he grabbed your hand, pressing it lightly on his bulge.

“Oh I-“

“Or are you busy?”

“yes. I mean no? If you need- no I mean well.. I’m studying.. I mean not studying later! I’m not busy. I’m free!” you cleared your voice retracting your hand embarrassed.

“nice then.” Jungkook tried his best not to laugh at your shynesss.

“But only if-“

“Only if what?” he interrupted you.

“Only if you give me my panties back. Please, i can’t walk around like this.” you looked down as he approached you more.

“Of course, angel. Don’t wanna make you feel uncomfortable.” he kneeled down, pulling your panties out of his pocket before helping you put it back.

Jungkook stood up bending down to your ear before whispering.

“Keep in my mind, that the moment you step a foot in my bedroom, they will end up on the floor.” he pressed a kiss behind your ear, walking away leaving you speechless.

You put your hand over your heart, trying to collect yourself before following him.

When you arrived to your table, Jungkook already packed your things waiting for you.

“Thank you.” you went to grab your bag but he sling a strap of the backpack over his shoulder.

“do you have a tissue please?”

“yea. It’s in the front pocket of my bag, let me get one for you.”

You handed him the tissue, as he wiped his fingers with it before putting it the bin near the desk.

“Thanks.”

“Now let’s go.” he put his cap back on, putting your glasses on.

“Do I look sexier with glasses?” he smirked making you laugh.

“Oh yea you do.” you walked out the library with him to his car.

On your way to the parking lot, you could heard people talk about you. You knew it were not flattering comments. It was weird receiving so many looks, you almost felt like suffocating.

You weren’t the type to like getting attention. Well, attention from a lot of people. You just loved receiving attention from one person, it was enough.

“are you ok?” you heard Jungkook ask.

“huh?”

“your grip on my arm kept on tightening?”

“oh yea yea sorry.” you apologized letting go of his arm abruptly.

You didn’t even realized you were holding on his arm. You weren’t that touchy with Jungkook in public.

You barely interacted with him at college.

Actually, you sometimes avoided him. Not that you didn’t appreciate his company, even tho he spent his time annoying and distracting you - but because of people talking shit about you and bullying you.

Maybe some jealous girls that Jungkook had rejected?

You never talked about it with him. You refused to complain and act like a victim with him.

Let’s clear things for the confused ones, Jungkook wasn’t your boyfriend. You were his tutor. Well, you were supposed to be just his tutor but he decided to frequent you more often.

You were a nice and smart girl. But, naive.

He knew how to have you wrapped around his finger. Have you at his mercy.

A simple and quiet student always by herself or either spending time with her best friend. You intrigued him a lot.

After being paired with you for a homework once, he decided to turn the situation to his side. Getting to know you more, he found out you were “innocent” and he just wanted to corrupt you.

He succeed, easily.

He started as a “student” of yours, flirting with you at each opportunities he could get to finally ruin your innocence slowly until he took your v-card. And he took pleasure from doing it.

He wasn’t the type to keep up with one partner. One day he’s flirting with a girl, the day after he’s making out with another one. He wasn’t into relationships. Had been cheated on once was enough for him.

He decided to just fuck around.

At first, he had a few intercourses with you, but that didn’t stop him from having sex with others at the same time.

Did you defined it as a friend with benefits relationship? He never said anything about it. You both never talked about what you were doing.

He just came at any moment and start something by flirting with you “accompanied“ of a few kisses. And you always fell for it.

At first, it was just very weird for you. You were new to all of this.

Your bestfriend warned you about Jungkook, but you just ignored him. You told him that you were conscious of what you were doing.

After a few weeks, you got used to it, used to him. You liked the playfulness, his teasing. You also liked the way he was always confused and lost when you explain the homework to him.

You got jealous once or twice for no reasons when he interacted with other girls but you brush it off, remembering yourself that there was nothing between you two and that Jungkook was this type of guy; with a flirty personality, surrounded by a lot of pretty girls, a party monster and more than that.

You knew very well but you never pushed him away.

Jungkook on his side, didn’t even realized the change in his habits. He had stopped having sex with other partners with time. He sticked to you.

Was it because you were always nice with him?

Was it because he loved the way you were submissive for him?

He loved the way you were so responsive, always reacting to every of his touches. You were just different.

He also started appreciating you as a friend.

You were supportive and always encouraging him. He loved the attention.

He really liked when you came to watch his games, he liked the way you sometimes shared your lunch with him without complaining, he liked the way you would reprimand him when he would do some stupid stuff in class, he liked the way you laughed at his silly jokes, he liked the way you would cry out his name when he’s making you feel good, the way you begged when he’s acting hard to get.

He loved to play with you. But not in a really bad way. It was weird to explain.

But he didn’t really think more about all that. It became a routine, a part of his life.

Jungkook opened the car’s door for you as you thanked him.

The ride to his house was quiet, a pleasant silence though.

You couldn’t help but glanced at him time to time, ogling at him driving with one hand as his tattoed hand was resting on your upper thigh the whole time.

He was just so hot, you wanted to throw yourself out of the car.

Jungkook unlocked the front door of his house, letting you go in first before locking it behind him.

“don’t be shy, you know where’s my room hm?” he teased making you roll your eyes as you took your shoes off.

“let’s go.” he walked to the stairs as you followed him.

Your heart started beating faster, hands getting sweaty.

Why were you feeling that way all the time? Every times felt like the first time. It’s scary yet exciting.

He pushed the bedroom’s door open, revealing the neat room. Just a few papers laying on the floor near his desk, but it was clean compared to the last time you came here.

Jungkook took his cap off, putting your school bag on his gaming chair before closing the door.

You were standing nervously in the middle of the room as he approached you.

“Remember what I told you earlier doll?”

You thought for a few seconds before shaking your head making him scoff.

“I told you, to keep in my mind that, the moment you step a foot in my bedroom, your panties will end up on the floor. Remember now?”

“Ah that.” you cleared your voice looking down.

“yea, that.” he chuckled before walking away.

Jungkook sat on the edge of his bed, staring at you, standing there not knowing what to do.

You felt like suffocating, his eyes were glued on you, you couldn’t move, your muscles refused to do so, you were like paralyzed. He was literally undressing you with his eyes.

He had such an effect on you, it was ridiculous.

After a few seconds, you heard him speak again.

“I changed my mind though.”

“Come here.”

You watched as Jungkook spread his legs, tapping his thigh, a silent way to gesture you to sit on his lap.

You took a deep breath, before walking to him.

The way he was manspreading, his eyes not leaving you as you approached him… you wanted to faint.

You stood between his parted legs waiting for him to make a move before his hands went to your hips pulling you down to straddle his strong thighs.

“kiss me.” he demanded gently as he took the glasses off, leaving it on his bedside table.

You didn’t say anything as you bent down to envelope his lips in a slow kiss making him hummed in satisfaction.

His hands snaked behind your lower back, pulling you closer to his body as you started moving your hips unconsciously.

You moaned as you felt his boner rubbing against your lightly covered clit. The rough material of his jeans making you lose your mind already as he raised his hips up making you fall on his chest.

You closed your eyes focusing on his hands sliding down your sides to help you grind on him.

You felt his lips against your neck, a wet sensation coming in contact with the skin as he sucked on it.

His fingers went to unbutton your shirt, revealing your body more and more to him.

He got rid of the shirt throwing it away, his hands coming back to your body, fingers sliding over the warm skin, goosebumps raising after the soft touches.

“Jungkook, I want to c-“

“oh no no, not yet pretty.” he shook his head, standing up making you wrapped your legs around his thin waist, a quiet whine escaping from your mouth.

Jungkook put you down and looked at you with a little smirk decorating his pretty lips.

“get on your knees, kitten.”

You felt like exploding when the words came out of his mouth.

You felt this exciting feeling running through your veins as you dropped down on your knees, his pants tightening at the view of you being so obedient for him.

“you’re such a good girl for me, fuck.” Jungkook muttered lowly as he cupped your cheek gently, his thumb sliding over your bottom lip.

“you know what to do, hm?” he asked making you nod.

Your hands flied to his belt, unbuckling it quickly.

Pushing his pants down, you were met with his -huge- confined erection. You gulped as you stare at his boner.

“what is it, angel? don’t act like you’ve never seen it.” he smirked teasingly.

“no no no, that’s not it.” you cleared your voice embarrassed.

“you’re so cute.” he smiled, caressing your cheek softly.

His eyes darkened as his thumb made its way down your lips, pushing it lightly between them.

You opened your mouth, allowing him to put his digit in. You sucked on it, tongue sliding over the finger making him bite on his bottom lip.

He removed his finger before grabbing your hand to press it on his covered hard-on.

“C’mon pretty, do something.” he asked eagerly yet calmly.

You tugged his calvin klein boxer down his legs, freeing his cock slapping against his lower stomach, the clothes pooling at his ankles.

You took a deep breath before wrapping your hand around his sensitive fully-hard cock, earning a hiss from Jungkook.

You started moving your hand, giving him a few sharp tugs as you twist your wrist making him close his eyes.

Your thumb swiped over the tip of his cock, sliding over the slit earning a deep moan from him.

“fuck! c’mon baby, do it please, you know what I want.”

You nodded, bringing your face closer to him as you kiss the tip that’s already oozing precum, his hand going down to your hair.

You licked the glistening head, tasting the salty pre-cum, making the man sigh in a pleasant way before feeling him push your head more to his cock as his other hand reached down to guide it into your mouth.

“C’mon baby, open up.”

You took him in your mouth, lips enveloping around him.

“god, what a sight.”

You flattened your tongue on the side of his cock, feeling the light vein as you started bobbing your head earning a breathy moan from the man.

Jungkook leaned his head back, as he started moving his hips forward slowly.

You sucked him off, humming surprised as he tugged on your hair slightly, holding you still.

“fuck! baby, you doing so good.” he moaned closing his eyes.

He moved his hips forward, carefully not to hurt you as he savored the warmth that's wrapped around him.

You pulled back a bit, only to suck on the head of his cock making him bute on his lip, eyebrows furrowed as he concentrated on your mouth.

You tried your best to pleasure him as you let the tip hit the back of throat, earning a low moan from him, enough to make your core throb.

“ah fuck! yea, just like that!” He looked down at you with half closed eyes.

“look at me princess.” he demanded, as your eyes met his.

“I’m so close.” he groaned.

Jungkook held on your hair as he started moving faster, your hands flat on his muscular thighs, nails digging in the flesh as he felt his orgasm getting closer.

Your eyes got teary as he kept on hitting the back of your throat, until you heard a surprisingly high pitched moan from the man.

He cursed as he came.

Pulling away, his hand cup your cheek as he looked at you breathlessly.

“swallow it.” he demanded with lust dripping from his tongue.

“Only, if you want to. I’m not forcing you kitten.” he tilted his head to the side, his stare strong yet soft.

You gulped the salty substance reluctantly making him let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“god, you’re so fucking hot.” he watched as you sticked your tongue out, showing him the evidence.

His hand came to the nape of your neck, pulling you up to your feet making you gasp.

His thumb wiped the sticky release down your chin, putting it in your mouth as you sucked on the digit.

“C’mere.” he grabbed your face, enveloping your lips in a heated kiss.

Jungkook kicked the clothes pooling at his ankles away, as he walked you to the bed, his lips not leaving yours.

When the back of your knees touched the edge of his bed, he let your body fall back on the mattress, the delicate sheet welcoming your half-naked body.

You watched as he got rid of the rest of his clothes, throwing his denim jacket to his chair, revealing his well toned body.

He stood there, before you, bare proudly as he smirked at you.

He approached your body, hands on your skirt, pulling at it a bit making you raise your hips to help him take it off.

“you’re such a pretty doll.” you heard him muttered as he admired your body. The black bra and panties complimenting your skin so well.

“wanna drink some water before we start?” he asked.

You shook your head slightly before replying.

“no, thank you.” you smiled a bit making him nod.

“did I hurt you? earlier when we..” he pointed to your throat.

“oh no no don’t worry I’m fine.” you waved your hands in front of you to reassure him.

“good then.”

Jungkook hovered above your body, his arms at each sides of your head making you gulp, his demeanor making you feel small again.

“Can I take these off?” he asked fingers ghosting over the soft material covering your chest.

You nodded timidly, his hand going behind your back, unclasping the bra skillfully.

Throwing it away, his eyes immediately went to your breasts, perky nipples making him feel excited again as he lick his lips.

Bending down, he started leaving small kisses on your collarbones, his soft lips making their way down your chest.

Jungkook attached his lips around one of your nipple making you whimper softly as you felt the wet muscle rubbing on the hard bud.

You watched as his hand went to fondle with your breast, eyes following his thumb stroking lightly over the sensitive bud making you breathe heavily.

“C’mon kitten, I find you way too quiet right now.”

He twisted your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, as he nibbled on the other erected bud with his teeth, earning a moan from you.

“you know I don’t like that, hm.” he mumbled.

He detached his lips from your breast, kissing lighting down your stomach, leaving little marks after his trail.

You felt his fingers on your panties waistband, your eyes meeting him as he was already staring at you waiting for your consent as you nod lightly.

He didn’t waste a second as he dragged the underwear down your legs, throwing it away on the pile of clothes on the floor.

Jungkook spread your legs for him to lay in-between them surprising you when he grabbed on your thigh positioning it over his shoulder.

“Mind if I have another taste?” you heard him say.

You didn’t have the time to respond when you felt his lips on your glistening one’s making you let a moan escape from your mouth.

His hands pinned your waist firmly to the mattress as you kept on squirming at the feeling of his tongue sliding over your clit. He ate you out, eyes closed as he focused on pleasuring you.

He switched to your swollen clit to nibble on it making you arch your back, hands grabbing desperately at the soft sheet. He sucked on it harshly, the not so soft feeling making you want to close your legs around his head.

You breathed heavily feeling your orgasm getting closer. Your legs started shaking slighting around his head letting him know that you were close.

“Jungkook, gosh I’m so cl-“

You groaned annoyed when he suddenly pull his head away, your orgasm vanishing.

“why?” you pulled on his wrist.

“because I wanted to.” he shrugged, fingers sliding over your stomach teasingly.

“what did you expect? If you don’t ask me what you want, how am I supposed to know. I told you I wanted to taste you another time but you, you didn’t say what you wanted.” he pursed his lips playfully.

You turned your head to the side avoiding his eyes.

“tell me.” he demanded.

“look at me baby.” he said firmly making you look at him again.

“tell me what you want.”

You gulped feeling small again as he stared down at you. He looked so big on top of you. It was really intimidating.

“Say it, or I will just stop and d-“

“I want you to.. you know.”

“No I don’t. Spill it right now before I change my mind.”

Jungkook knew how to make you talk. He wouldn’t stop like that. Not without pleasuring you nor having what he want. He knew how to make you do what he wants you to do.

“So?”

“I want you to make me-“

“Make you what?” he interrupted you getting impatient.

“I want you to make me cum.” you muttered loud enough for him to hear.

“see, I didn’t bite you… yet.” he chuckled making you sigh.

Jungkook was quick to bend down again, mouth getting closer to your heat, looking up at you one last time before connecting his lips with your core.

“fuck.” you whimpered at the contact, still a bit sensitive from the denying.

He sucked on your lips, tongue teasing your entrance. You watched him devour you, his tongue penetrating you stealing a soft moan from you.

“Jungkook, please I want to cum.”

The man hummed against you, the vibration stimulating you more.

“already.” he laughed quite surprised.

“Please let me cum.” you whined, your hand coming down to his head, pushing him more between your legs.

You almost felt like crying when he nibbled on your clit, sucking on it harshly.

“Jungkook please.” you pleaded.

“Cum pretty girl, cum on my tongue.” he finally replied making your heart skipped a beat, everything going too fast for you as you pulled on his soft tresses.

A wave of pleasure washed over you as you came for the second time today.

“oh my god!”

You tried to back away as he didn’t stop, mouth still latched on your core.

“Jungkook, I can’t.” you bit on your bottom lip at the overstimulation.

“you can do it baby, i know you can take another one.”

You shook your head whining as you felt his thumb rub on your clit slowly, your breath getting unsteady.

“fuck, I-“

You couldn’t finish your sentence, as you threw your head back, your orgasm hitting you hard.

You felt like passing out. It was too much.

Jungkook caressed your thighs gently soothing you a bit as you let your body rest.

“you did well darling, so well.” he smirked feeling satisfied by your fucked up state before leaving a kiss on your abused clit earning a hiss from you.

“you good?” he asked after a few minutes.

You just hummed eyes still closed.

“wanna drink something?”

“please.”

“stay awake, I’ll come back.”

Jungkook came back with a glass of cold water handing it to you as you sat up gulping the fresh liquid.

“thanks.” you gave it back to him, this one placing it on the bedside table.

“Are you too tired or can you take a last one, for me?”

“I need you so bad right now.” he whispered deeply, his tattooed hand sliding over your bare arm, goosebumps raising after the light touches.

You gulped, your last orgasm was so recent, were you ready to face another one? You felt wasted and ready to slumber.

You looked at him, his dark eyes not leaving yours. You thought for a moment, your stare lowering to his lips, the piercing decorating it at the corner scintillating.

“I need you too.” you whispered making him smile.

Laying down on your back, you pulled him on top of you.

“Listen to me carefully now angel.” he started, caressing your hair back.

“I’m gonna make you cry out in pleasure. I don’t care if you pass out in my bed, I’m gonna fuck you dumb. I’ll pleasure you so good that you won’t be able to speak properly after it. Trust me, you will only remember my name. Heard me, princess?” he whispered, his lips ghosting over yours.

His words warming your whole body, you wanted to run away but you were frozen.

You were so tempted, he had that strong effect on you. You couldn’t speak nor think properly at this point, at what he announced shamelessly.

Your body was on fire.

Your innocent eyes diverted from his.

Jungkook captured your lips in a slow kiss, his tongue grazing over your bottom lip.

Your hand travelled to his nape, deepening the now-heated-kiss making him moan.

His lips lowered to your jaw leaving little kisses there, while his hand grabbed on your left thigh spreading your legs a bit more to make room for him to lay comfortably between them.

He grabbed on his hard cock, rubbing the tip between your wet lips, a soft moan leaving your mouth.

Slapping the head of his election on your core, you whined the teasing getting unbearable.

“Jungkook, please.”

“what?” he tilted his head to the side playfully.

“stop teasing please.”

“what do you want?“

“are you serious right now?” you covered your flustered face with your hands.

“Yes I am. Say it. I wanna know.”

“I want you.” you said quietly making him hummed in a disapproving way.

“I don’t get it.”

“Do something.”

“what?“

“fuck me.”

“beg for it.”

You took a deep breath, your heart beating faster in excitation.

“Jungkook please, I need you so bad please. fuck me.. hard. I want you to make me feel good.” you pleaded throwing your last bit of dignity away.

“You’re such a good girl for me, aren’t you?” he caressed your cheek.

“so fucking pretty.”

You felt the tip of his cock rubbing on your core, pushing in slowly.

“tell me if it hurts, and I’ll stop right away.”

A sob escaped from your throat when he penetrate you. Biting on your bottom lip hard, eyebrows frowned as you threw your head back at the painful yet so delicious stretch.

You whimpered as he started rolling his hips.

“Jungkook!“

You moaned loudly as he suddenly snap his hips hard into yours.

“fuck yes! right there ah fuck!”

Your fingers laced into his soft black curls pulling on them tightly. He groaned the little burn turning him on more.

You whimpered in his ear, your nails digging into his muscular back forming little crescents as he kept on abusing your g-spot, hips moving faster, the bedhead hitting the wall over and over.

“you’re so warm and so fucking tight! Shit! Am I not fucking you enough, huh doll?” he rested his sweaty forehead on yours.

“Jungkook, please go harder.” you cried out, eyes getting teary.

He didn’t think twice as his hand gripped on the bedhead for support, pounding into you with no mercy.

You clenched around him making him moan, your warmth engulfing him drive him crazy.

“Jungkook, you feel so good! Please keep going, don’t stop!”

Tears slid down your cheeks catching his attention as he twitched inside you. The feeling of it making you break into a sobbing mess as you clenched around him.

You knitted your eyebrows, mouth ajar as you felt this oh-so-familiar knot in the pit of your stomach ready to explode at any moment.

He held you firmly, his nails digging into the flesh of your hips as he felt his own release coming.

“are you close?”

You couldn’t reply not fully ready to face your third orgasm of the day.

Pulling him down, you kissed him deeply, his hands coming to grab your yours, pinning them next your head.

“Jungkook, I’m gon-“

“Look at me.” he breathed out.

“I want you to look at me when you cum.” he bit on his bottom lip concentrating on moving his hips.

You tried to keep eye contact with him but his strong intimidating stare made it difficult.

“Am I making you feel good darling?” Jungkook asked between breath.

“answer.” you bite on your earlobe slightly making you grab on his bicep.

“yes, so so good!” you said between sobs.

“Who the fuck is making you feel good?” he asked moaning.

“You! You, Jungkook!”

“You’re so hot, so good for me. So good only for me. You’re my good girl, aren’t you?”

Your hand slid to his chest, nails dragging on his soft skin, the burning sensation quite pleasant, made him furrowed his eyebrows.

“Say that you’re mine.”

You were too lost in the pleasure to think straight as you nod, tears streaming down your cheeks.

“I’m yours.”

“Say it again!” he asked loudly, his eyes not leaving your face.

“I’m yours Jungkook! I’m yours! Only yours!” your voice cracked at the end of the sentence.

“That’s fucking right! You’re mine, only mine.” he said as he sucked on your sweet spot.

You threw your head back deep into the pillow as you felt your high coming.

“Jungkook! fuck, I’m coming!” you cried out, walls convulsing around his cock, legs shaking, you couldn’t felt your body anymore.

Your vision became white, the repeated snaps of his hips into yours sending you to oblivion.

Your warm release enough to make Jungkook lose his mind, throwing him over the edge as he abruptly pulled out.

“Open your pretty legs for me princess.” you barely comprehended his words, head spinning as he spread your legs.

Pumping his cock a few times, he finally cummed on your lower stomach, some of his release landing on your upper thigh.

You felt the warm sticky substance coming in contact with your skin but didn’t react much.

Jungkook stared at your body in awe still panting from his efforts.

The little purple and red marks he painted with his lips decorating your pretty delicate skin so well, the now-dried-tears on your cheeks boosting his ego knowing how good you felt while he was fucking you and his cum laying on your thighs was the cherry on top.

He watched as the thick liquid flows down the inside of your thigh.

You looked like a mess. A hot mess.

“you’re such a masterpiece princess.” he whispered, more to himself.

He hovered above your body, leaving a soft peck on your lips making you open your eyes, only to look at the man on top of you.

He looked so attractive, beads of sweat covering his forehead, some locks of his hair sticked on it. His lips were reddish from all the biting. The scratches you left on his muscular chest made him look hotter.

You were still out of breath, trying your best not to fall asleep.

“are you ok?” he caressed your arm.

You hummed, pushing his hair back from his eyes making him smile softly.

“Rest for a moment, hm.” he said before leaving to his bedroom connected bathroom.

After a few minutes, he came back, a boxer on. He placed a pile of things on the edge of this bed before coming to your side.

“you dead?” he touched your shoulder slightly not wanting to disturbing if you actually fell asleep.

“no, I was just closing my eyes.” you laughed.

“I was that good huh.” he wiggled his eyebrows making you cleared your voice, pulling the cover closer to your body.

“don’t be shy now. I’ve seen everything under that.” he teased pulling on the blanket playfully.

Pulling it down your legs, he grabbed the warm wet towel he let on the edge of the bed before cleaning you up. He wiped your lower stomach clean and the inside of your thighs gently making you sigh.

“C’mere, I’ll help you.” he helped you sit up, grabbing one of his boxer, sliding it up your legs.

“I guess you rather wear something clean, right?” he said as he continued, before hooking your bra.

He grabbed the sweatpants and black oversized Calvin Klein shirt.

“more confortable.” he spoke dressing you up.

You watched in utter shock the scenery before you.

Why all of this? It wasn’t often that he gave you his clothes. You were so confused. He was being more and more different. He changed a lot since you met him.

It was just simple things and gestures, yet it made your heart melt. You were so lost.

“well, you will give them back to me when we see each others next week.” he pinched your cheek making you roll you eyes.

“yea yea I’m not gonna steal them.”

“I’d have let it slide If you were my g-“

Suddenly, Jungkook’s phone rang interrupting his blabbing making him huff. He picked up the phone, pursing his lips at the name displayed on the screen.

“hey!”

“Yes I do, I remember.” he hummed listening to the other person talking making you tilted your head to the side when he looked toward you.

“ah..tonight?” he furrowed his eyebrows.

“well, I’m not sure… I know but.. ok ok fine I will come.”

You got out the bed, picking your clothes from the floor. You folded them putting them in your bag, grabbing your phone to check your notifications.

“you’re leaving?” you heard Jungkook asked behind you.

“yes, I will get going before it’s getting too dark outside.”

“I was about to suggest you to stay over tonight but I have to g-“

“Stay over?”

“yea.. I thought that you were probably too tired.”

“no no, I’m good.” you laughed.

“I have things to do tonight too.“

“hm, here take my jacket.” he put it on you before you could even refused.

Jungkook accompanied you at the front door, watching as you started walking away.

“wait, I’ll drop you off at your house. My bike is there, let me just get the helmets-“

“no no don’t bother. I will walk, it’s not too far.”

“i don’t mind.“

You let a breathy laugh pass by your lips as you shook your head.

“It’s ok, I wanna walk a bit.”

“You’re alone and it’s getting dark. And look at you, you can’t even walk straight.” he grinned making you roll your eyes.

“I’m fine, and there are still people outside at this time doing late jogging.”

“You’re so stubborn.” he clicked his tongue.

“See you.” you waved leaving his house.

“Hey!” Jungkook called out making you turn around curiously.

“Cherry.”

You furrowed your eyebrows confused.

“What?”

“It’s Cherry. The flavor of your lip balm.” he smirked.

You looked away shyly, staying silent.

“Am I right?” He raised an eyebrow teasingly.

“Well, I gotta go now, bye Jungkook.”

He watched as you disappeared rapidly, almost tripping over the sidewalk, a soft smile decorating his lips.

You threw your bag on the carpeted floor of your bedroom before jumping on your bed.

“gosh.” you sighed putting your hands over your flustered face.

“Why is he like that?” you turned around on your stomach burying your face on your pillow.

“I hate him.” you screamed into the soft cushion.

Your thoughts were interrupted when you heard a notification on your phone.

You went to your bag grabbing the device from it as you sat on the floor.

As expected, it was a message from your dear best friend.

dramaboy : you’re home?

y/n : yup.

dramaboy : picking you up in a hour, get ready

y/n : ???

dramaboy : we going out tonight. did you forget? Friday night, movie night.

y/n : ahh yea the romantic movie you chose

dramaboy : we chose* c’mon I don’t wanna be late

y/n : yea yea, see you

dramaboy : see ya

You sighed, walking to your bathroom.

After your quick shower, you decided to pick some confortable clothes to go out. You looked at yourself in your big miroir, admiring yourself.

You looked good. Was this because you were on a good mood?

Why were you feeling like that?

People say that you find yourself more attractive when you’re feeling confident, when you are happy. You kinda liked it.

Looking at your phone, you noticed a message from your best friend letting you know that he was already here, waiting for you outside.

“heyy!”

“hey!” you smiled as you sat on the passenger seat.

“how you doing?”

“good and you?”

“good too.” you buckled your belt.

“you ready?” he asked.

“Let’s go.”

You were waiting for your snacks at the counter when you heard your best friend groaned.

“what is it?” you asked noticing his annoyed face.

“mister muscle is here.” he rolled his eyes looking behind you.

You looked behind you only to see Jungkook, with a drink in his hand, his other arm placed over a girl’s shoulder. Your heart stopped for a second.

He was laughing with his friends. He finally noticed you as you made eye contact.

“fuck!” you turned around panicked.

“do you think he saw me?”

“nice, now he’s coming here.” you heard your best friend huff.

“hi y/n.” you heard Jungkook behind you.

“hi Jungkook.” you forced a smile facing him.

“Hi Park.” he greeted your best friend

Jimin just nodded acknowledging him.

You pursed your lips as Jimin walked away leaving you alone with Jungkook.

”going to the restroom quickly.” he said before disappearing.

”you’re ignoring me?”

“No no not at all, I was just.. hmm.. talking with him.” you cleared your voice.

“He doesn’t appreciate me, right?” Jungkook chuckled making you sigh.

“no it’s not that.”

“So, you came to watch..” he said waiting for you to continue the sentence.

“Jimin chose that romantic movie with one of his favorite actor.” you explained playing with your fingers nervously, the gesture didn’t go unnoticed by him.

“And you?” you asked back.

“horror movie with my friends.” he pointed to the group chatting behind him.

“that’s cool...” you said, staring at the girl that was already staring at you.

“y/n!” you heard Jimin called out.

“Oh the movie is about to start, I guess. I’ll go join him.” You grabbed the snacks that were on the counter next to you.

“Enjoy your movie.” you smiled walking away.

“Hey!” you turned around to him.

“nice jacket.” he grinned, pointing toward his Calvin Klein denim jacket you were wearing.

“Oh… thanks. I mean no, I.. thank you for letting me borrow it. I just, well, Jimin is waiting for me! Bye.”

Jungkook laughed shaking his head as you sprinted away.

—

A/N : i want this Jungkook so bad, like for real. It hurts, I would get him pregnant if I could- wait wait no no forget it pls I wasn’t thinking straight helpsjd. thank you so much for reading luvs <3,, I hope it wasn’t too bad. I’ve repeated so many words. I must have more vocabularies. Details weren’t as good as I wished but I kinda like the fic. Have a nice day :)

3K notes · View notes

back2bluesidex · 4 months

Text

Closer To You - JJK (18+)

Pairing: Rich, spoilt brat!Jeongguk X Doctor! Reader

Theme: Angst, smut, kinda yandere if you squint, toxic relationship au.

Wordcount: 1k+

Summary: You know that you and Jeongguk are completely different individuals from every possible aspect, and there is no future of this relationship but you can’t push him away, not when he only wants to come closer to you.

Warnings: Angst, heavy language, swearing, not super explicit sex, jeongguk is kinda mean, he refuses to wear a condom (don't do the same), obsessive behavior, hints of class difference, kinda dirty talk, reader is trying hard to push him away but he won't budge. NSFW!!

Minors are not allowed in this blog!!

Listened to Closer To You by Jungkook.

It feels weird to enter your own apartment.

Your skin crawls underneath the heavy trench coat, as if your sixth sense is telling you that there’s something or someone waiting patiently for you inside.

Your suspicion is confirmed when you see his silhouette prominent against the bright backdrop of your otherwise dark apartment window.

He sits still, patiently. His eyes are focused on something you can’t tell due to the darkness.

“What are you doing here?” you finally let your breath go and you didn’t even know you were holding it on for so long.

You turn on the lights, slip out of your shoes and coat and walk towards the couch where he is sitting currently. He turns his head to look at you.

“Why? Expected someone else?” Jeongguk stands up on his toes and takes a few steps towards where you are standing.

His dark jeans, dark shirt and dark expression, everything complements the dark aura he is oozing right now. But he looks beautiful regardless.

You scoff, “Is it not justified for me to expect anyone but you? Especially when you are the one who has been ignoring me for two weeks and three days to be precise?”

“You fucking ditched me during the party, Y/N! You made me a look like fool before my friends just because you got called at work! How would you treat me if you were in my shoes?” Jeongguk screams at your face. His height looms over your small figure. The weight of his gaze intimidates you but you know how to shake that off.

He is angry, you know. But you also know that his anger is not justified.

“I would have understood, Jeongguk.” you pause, taking a few steps away from him, “you need to understand that I lead a completely different life. I don’t have time to waste sipping champagne wearing over-expensive silk dresses. I am a doctor! And I need to sacrifice my personal time for the sake of my patients! If you can’t get that in your head, if you can’t respect what I do then just fuck off! Let’s break the fuck up!”

Your voice feels hoarse instantly. You have hardly ever screamed so much. This is so unlike you, you can’t recognize yourself. Jeongguk really pulls out the worst of you.

Jeongguk scoffs, then he is grinning and then he is laughing at the loudest possible volume, “What? What did you say? You are going to what- break up with me?”

You hate this side of your boyfriend.

When you first met him at the hospital, he had minor scratches and a set of big puppy eyes. When he cutely told you how he fell down while snowboarding, you couldn’t help smiling.

Only if you knew he is just like other rich brats sporting a “I want it, I get it” attitude, you would have resisted his bunny smile and big doe eyes, you would have stayed professional when he asked for your number, you would have turned him down when he asked you out. But now you are here, 8 months into this relationship with Chaebol Jeon Jeongguk, standing on the verge of the end because you just can’t stand being with him anymore.

“Jeongguk please… Please just stop treating me like a possession. I am not your shiny new car. I am a human being! If you don’t love me, just- just let me go.” your voice comes out weaker than it should. Even though it has only been 8 months, even though Jeongguk is not the most ideal boyfriend, even though you two have hell and heaven difference between you, you still fell for him regardless. And you know it’s a mistake because there is no way you are more than just a fancy doctor girlfriend for him. It hurts but you know rationality is more important than your feelings right now.

You are so busy gathering your own wits that you don’t notice the heartbroken expression that takes over Jeongguk’s beautiful face.

“I- I don’t love you? I don’t treat you like a human?” his voice weavers. The tremble in his words makes you look up at him.

“No you don’t.” you say briefly.

“Oh?” his eyes start glistening with moisture and he diverts those away from yours. Running a hand through his hair out of frustration he groans, “then why do you think I am with you?”

That’s a million dollar question, you don’t know the answer properly. So, you reply with what you think is the most appropriate answer, “it makes you look cool. A normal working class girlfriend to a millionaire chaebol… What a good match!”

As soon as your answer ends, you see Jeongguk taking fast steps towards you. He grabs you by your neck and pulls your face closer to his. You stumble, being unable to keep up with his actions.

“I love you, Y/N. You better get that inside your head. I am not letting you go, not now, not ever.” he breathes on your face, pinning you down with a sharp, piercing look in his eyes.

You don’t know what to feel, not when you see a weird determination in his eyes, not when his mouth is crashing on yours, not when Jeongguk is devouring your lips fervently.

Minutes pass and you find yourself naked in your bed, with Jeongguk in between your thighs, kissing your mound, licking your clit and saying “I love you” in every interval.

You don’t know what to feel when he pushes his girthy length inside you but refuses to wear a condom claiming to “shoot his babies inside you”.

You don’t know if your stomach is filled with butterflies or fear or is it just Jeongguk’s bulge, when he fucks you relentlessly murmuring how much he worships your body, how he wants to fuck you every day after marriage.

You don’t know whether to kick him out of your apartment or keep him with you forever when he cleans you up, places a kiss on your forehead, tells you that he loves you again and again and gradually falls asleep beside you.

You only know that you and Jeongguk are completely different individuals from every possible aspect and there is no future of this relationship but you can’t push him away, not when he only wants to come closer to you.

#bts angst #jungkook angst #bts smut #jungkook smut #jeongguk angst #jeongguk smut #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #jeongguk x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook x y/n #jeongguk x you #bts fanfiction #jungkook fanfic #jungkook scenarios #bts oneshot #bts yandere #jungkook yandere

1K notes · View notes

koostattoos · 11 months

Text

Jungkook FF Recommendations ᵕ̈

these are a list of jjk FF’s that i really recommend this is also my very first post! please enjoy these reads like how i did. and show love to all these writers and their amazing work ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ

a= angst

s= smut

f= fluff

one shots

lose somebody - a,f,s

word count: 26k

˘͈ᵕ˘͈

the lovebug - a,f,s

word count: 20.6k

˘͈ᵕ˘͈

changes in between - a,f,s

word count: 24.7k

˘͈ᵕ˘͈

begin - a,f,s

word count: 26.6k

˘͈ᵕ˘͈

awkwardly in love - f

word count: 20k

˘͈ᵕ˘͈

dissonance - a,f,s

word count: 19.4k

˘͈ᵕ˘͈

tangsuyuk - a,f

word count: 11.5k

˘͈ᵕ˘͈

rolling stone - s,a,f

word count: 17.2k

˘͈ᵕ˘͈

50 days to fall in love - f

word count: 12k

˘͈ᵕ˘͈

show me something - a,f,s

word count: 51.7k

˘͈ᵕ˘͈

the habits of a broken heart - a

word count: 26.3k

˘͈ᵕ˘͈

summer bummer - s,a

word count: 12.6k

˘͈ᵕ˘͈

calling you cool - a,s,f

word count: 12.1k

˘͈ᵕ˘͈

bleeding for you - a,f

word count: 3.3k

˘͈ᵕ˘͈

perhaps love - a

word count: 12.5k

˘͈ᵕ˘͈

make you mine - f,a,s

word count: 37.8k

˘͈ᵕ˘͈

ditto - a,f,s

word count: 12.9k

˘͈ᵕ˘͈

r u mine, bunbun? - s,a

word count: 12k

˘͈ᵕ˘͈

photobooth kisses - f

word count: 2.4k

˘͈ᵕ˘͈

starboy - f,s,a

word count: 20k

˘͈ᵕ˘͈

south paw - a,s

word count: 30k

˘͈ᵕ˘͈

falling - a,s,f

word count: 31.1k

˘͈ᵕ˘͈

grapejuice - a,s,f

word count: 36k

˘͈ᵕ˘͈

idealizations concerning real life - a,s

word count: 40.9k

˘͈ᵕ˘͈

forever & never - a,s,f

word count: 11.6k

˘͈ᵕ˘͈

our not so secret - f

word count: 20k

˘͈ᵕ˘͈

sanative - a,s

word count: 19.8k

♡˙ᵕ˙‎♡‧₊˚

series

falling skies - a,s,f

(completed)

˘͈ᵕ˘͈

fight for you - a,f,s

(completed)

˘͈ᵕ˘͈

4-7-8 - a,f

(completed)

˘͈ᵕ˘͈

risqué - s,a,f

(ongoing)

˘͈ᵕ˘͈

in the seom - f,s,a

(ongoing)

˘͈ᵕ˘͈

the art of - a,s,f

(ongoing)

˘͈ᵕ˘͈

inevitable - a,f,s

(completed)

(๑'ᵕ'๑)⸝*

3K notes · View notes

aajjks · 4 months

Text

Desperado (m)

synopsis. There was no time for intimacy and jungkook learned the hard way.

warnings: MÄTÜRE THÈMÈS. YÄNDÊRÊ, DÄRK, mêntǐöns öf prẽgnâncy, mêntǐöns öf älmöst dy-ng dürïng chïldbïrth, obsěssïvè bëhävïöür, pössessïvênêss, jk ïs cräy cräy, cryïng, smüt (förëpläy), kïssïng, lüsty jk, he ïs jǔst hörny änd w-nts tö fück lmäo

note. I understand that this kind of a topic can be a sensitive topic for many of us, pregnancy is not something everyone is comfy reading about so viewer discretion is advised!

He never wanted you to get pregnant.

This was not supposed to happen,

Jungkook couldn’t help but glare at the tiny little sleeping human in the white crib as he sat right infront of it.

The baby’s chubby cheeks huffed as he took little breaths, a little hue of pink sprinkled over them.

how could he sleep so peacefully after ruining Jungkook’s life! Jungkook bit the inside of his cheeks in jealousy.

This tiny little brat has already taken you away from him. You were Jungkook’s only happiness but now ever since you gave birth, you are obsessed with this little devil.

You have forgotten about Jungkook completely. He who was the reason you got pregnant in the first place!

Jungkook regretted doing that… why can’t he ever control his lust when it comes to you, and now his lust was the result of the baby who was sleeping so peacefully right infront of him.

And now, here he is after so many sleepless nights to watch over the baby while you were busy showering. You are really paranoid and possessive when it comes to the child and it’s safety.

And you have made jungkook promised that he’s going to watch over the baby while you tend to your business.

Jungkook’s head hurts so much. When was the last time you guys had sex? He can’t even remember. It’s all gone now.

You have been snatched away from him and he can’t do anything! Jungkook will never understand why you wanted to have this baby anyways?!? You guys together were already perfect.

And not to forget that you both are still so young, and there was no need to hurry.

This child is a devil and you fail to see that! Having this baby almost killed you, your fragile self was not ready for it, Jungkook hated him so much, so fucking much.

But you have always so stubborn.

Your maternal side was something that Jungkook used to adore, because you were always so loving and caring towards him.

But now? Now that you were an actual mother, you completely neglect your boyfriend. Jungkook huffs in annoyance as the thoughts run through his mind.

You always wanted to become a mom.

His glare never left the baby who was soundly asleep, it was unfair that how much he looked like Jungkook, anyone could tell that that was his son.

It was undeniable. The baby even stole his face!

Jungkook hates his child so much!

Jungkook hated children, he always despised the idea of someone else coming in between you, you were always supposed to be his and only his!

Jungkook is a needy person and he knows that… he needs your love and attention like a little child, he is addicted to you, and now that his addiction isn’t being satisfied.

He is starting to lose his sanity.

“Y/N…” Jungkook whines into your warmth as he feels your fingers scratch his head, his warm breath hitting your tummy as his hands grabs wrap around it, his legs are resting onto yours as the man is on top you, laying so peacefully and your scent is calming his mind and your touch feels so good, His eyes are closed as he snuggles deeper and deeper into you.

Your hair is still wet, and you smell so fresh.

God… you smell so good, how much he’s missed this… you.

“Y/N…. I miss you so much..” You hear Jungkook speak in a broken tone, like he is so tired. “You don’t pay me any attention anymore, you don’t care for me anymore…” he cries, his head shaking to the sides, as he lifts his face up from your belly. “I need you so much… you don’t even make love to me anymore!”

He whines again, complaining as he looks into your eyes while you look at him with confusion, Jungkook stares at your face, he notices the tiredness, your eyes are absolutely tired, dark circles present. “Please love me too! You only care about him!” He groans as he nuzzles his face in your neck.

It tickles because hes breathing so heavily.

“When was the last time you touched me, do you even remember Y/N? Fuck… I ache for your touch on my body… please.” He could barely whisper, but his tone changes to a seductive one as he presses light butterfly kisses on your neck. You close your eyes as your heart clenches in guilt when you hear the desperation in his voice.

Even though he’s complaining most of the time, but he’s not completely wrong.

It is true that you have been neglecting him, heck, you love your baby so much that you have forgotten about Jungkook.

“I’m sorry baby… you are right… I’m sorry… but I’ve been so tired ever since… Ji-Hwan came into our lives… I’ve been super focused on him- “B-But what about me yn?” he cut you off, eyebrows furrowing as he removes his head from your neck, and he is glaring at you, “I should be your first priority!” Jungkook harshly says but when he sees you getting shocked at his sudden change in demeanor.

And now he feels guilty.

so his eyes soften, and he apologizes,

“But I can’t really blame you because you are so tired… please, let me make you feel good… you look like you need it.” Jungkook gets up from your body and takes your hand and guides it towards his crotch.

You gasp as you feel it.

“See? I’ve been so needy for you that your touch got me all hard… please kiss me, can I have a kiss now? Baby don’t you think that I deserve it?” Jungkook’s eyes are dark, hey bites his lower lip, eyes filled with lust, as he leans close to your face stopping his rambling.

He looks at your body, and he notices the dress that you’re wearing. It’s cruel how much you look good in that dress, it’s so simple yet so sexy.

Your lips were only a centimetre apart, until Jungkook connected them together, your lips immediately melt into his.

Jungkook doesn’t waste a second to take your breath away by sliding his tongue inside your mouth, exploring it, his tongue hitting every corner of your mouth.

His hands grab onto your breasts as he squeezes them, moaning into your mouth, his kiss only gets more feverish as he starts to grind close to your heat.

You moan lightly at the fraction, as he presses his lips to yours harder, moaning again.

“F-Fuck… you feel so good baby… need you now..” he cries, voice all breathy and you can’t help but whine in response, your body feels so hot.

His husky voice sends shivers down your spine, he pushes you into the bed as your lips finally disconnect after what felt like hours.

Jungkook quickly takes off his shirt as he climbes on top of you, impatient and hungry.

His hand plays with the strap of your floral dress, but it’s been so long that his warm hands feel so cold and, foreign to you. “Fuck fuck fuck!” He curses in excitement as he pulles you in another kiss.

Your lips connecting together once again, Jungkook groans in desire. His strong hands grip on your shoulders so tightly that you welp in pain.

“Sorry baby can’t really contain myself… I need to be inside you so bad!” His voice was laced with lust, he was almost crying, his apology is rushed.

But as soon as his hands are between your legs, his fingers taking your panties off, you’re waiting in anticipation, And he’s almost taken them off,

I can’t believe that he’ll finally get to have sex with you after so long. His heartbeat is so loud and he is so impatient but then the luck isn’t really on his side, because you guys hear the baby monitor beep, and your senses awaken immediately in realisation.

“Jungkook get off! He’s awake, he must be hungry!” You push the man off you as you quickly get up,

Not giving a chance for Jungkook to react or even comprehend, what just happened now, he’s watching you with shock in his eyes,, you exit the room while fixing your dress before, he can call out your name.

And behind you, Jungkook cries, cussing out loudly, growling,

“FUCK MY LIFE.” with a raging boner.

1K notes · View notes

2hightocare · 3 months

Text

UNEXPECTED NEWS!

Synopsis: Pregnant with your first child, how do you plan on dropping the news to your husband?

Genre: married au! KUWTB!

Warnings: whole lotta fluff.. cussing, mentions of sex, playful banter, found family… just fucking fluff bye.

a/n: well long awaited drabble.. I honestly adore all of them so much… Jungkook and oc were being extra cutesy (they usually play fighting all the time) in this.. enjoy🤍 ps I’m high as fuck so ignore all mistakes.

ask! KUWTB💌

“You’re fucking pregnant?” Your best friend whispers, Eunbi stares at you with wide eyes and mouth hanging open.

You had been feeling weird these past few days, from your emotions being all over the place to throwing up whenever you ate something. Jungkook was worried about what was wrong, but you just told him that you were on your period, which was a lie since you hadn’t had it in some time now.

So, here you are, sitting against the wall in the bathroom of Eunbi’s house with a positive pregnancy test in your hand. “I’m going to be an auntie!” Eunbi dances in front of you, her blonde hair coming undone from her bun.

“Oh my god, I’m pregnant.” It finally clicks in your brain that a small human is forming in your belly at this very moment, tears start streaming down your face.

You and Jungkook have been married for five years now. When you first got married, you both said you would enjoy your marriage and have fun. And that’s exactly what you did; you traveled a lot, went out to parties until five in the morning, did spontaneous stuff all the time.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Eunbi rushes to your side, kneeling down in front of you, lifting your face up. “Are these happy tears or sad tears?” She asks, her thumbs wiping your tears away, ruining your makeup.

“Both.” You sniffle, your eyes finally meeting her hazel eyes.

“Wanna talk about it?” Eunbi asks slowly, trying to read your expression.

Eunbi has been your best friend since college days; she was your dorm roommate. You both majored in the same thing, meaning you guys had almost every class together.

“It’s just that..” you pout, as the tears continue to fall.

“I’m happy, I’m really happy. But Kook and I haven’t talked about having a baby anytime soon. I don’t know how he’ll react.” You explain, as Eunbi only nods her head.

“Y/n, that man loves you so much, it’s even absurd what he would do for you. Knowing him, he would literally jump off a cliff for you. I don’t think he’ll react badly, but if he does, I’ll have the guys throw him off the cliff. Anyways, he loves you a lot with a baby or without a baby.” Eunbi says, helping you stand up before hugging.

“How do you think I should tell him?” You sniffle, as Eunbi chuckles, letting go of you.

“Pregnancy reveal plan in the making!” Eunbi says.

“And can we get out of here, this is where Yoongi takes his shits, it kinda smells bad,” Eunbi scrambles to the door, which has you laughing, following her lead out of the bathroom.

…

It’s been two days since you found out you were pregnant, but you haven’t told Jungkook anything yet. Eunbi and you planned a way of telling him the day you found out, so here you are, nervous as hell in Jungkook's car, trying to calm your nerves.

After a couple of minutes, you step out of the car with your shoulder bag and some shopping bags. You lock the car behind you and make your way to the main door.

“Hi baby, how did it go?” Your husband greets you the minute you walk in from the couch. “What did you buy?” Jungkook pauses the show he was just watching, putting all his attention on you, making grabby hands for you to go to him.

“Want a haul?” You giggle, making your way to him who pats his lap for you to sit on, which you do after dropping the bags beside him.

“Better have used my card,” he gives you a glare which you only roll your eyes playfully, reaching for your Prada bag before pulling out his black card and handing it to him. “Keep it, you use it more than me,” waves you off, giving your neck a wet kiss.

“Did the girls not go? I was on the phone with Taehyung, and he said Ari was making dinner.” Jungkook gives your thigh a squeeze, helping you adjust in his lap. “Ari said she was really busy with work, and Lora was taking care of Jiho since Jin is working.” You explain, running your fingers through his messy curls.

“You went by yourself? I could’ve gone with you, baby.” Jungkook pouts at you, which you shake your head with a smile. “Eunbi went with me, plus you had work,” You squeeze his cheeks.

“Tsk, I missed you,” He smiles, pulling your face closer to his before connecting his lips to yours. Your eyes immediately flutter closed, mirroring his smile against your lips.

“I have to show you something.” You bring up, your stomach doing a turn. “Show me,” He smiles, patting your thigh, before you climb off his lap, reaching for the shopping bags.

“Are you going to give me a haul?” Jungkook raises an eyebrow at you, which you only wink back as a response.

“So, I got a lot of makeup,” you say, showing him every product you got, which he listened to carefully even though he had no clue what half of the stuff you bought is used for. “I got us these, so we can all match,” you pull out the biggest Nike shoe box first, passing it to your husband.

“These are sick as fuck,” Jungkook holds up the black and white high tops. “Let me see yours.” He motions to the other box in the bag; you hand him your shoe box. Instead of high tops, they’re low instead.

“Super cute, they match your outfit right now,” He says about your pink long sleeve bodysuit. “They do, don't they,” You say, cracking your fingers nervously to show him the much smaller box in the bag.

“Oh, who’s this one for?” Jungkook reached for the small box, opening it to be met with tiny matching shoes. “Are these for Jiho? I don’t think they would fit him,” Your husband brings up the only child in the family as he holds the tiny shoe in his palm.

“They’re not for Jiho..” You nervously say, as you dig into your bag, pulling out the positive pregnancy test.

“You’re fucking kidding,” Jungkook's mouth hangs open as he stares at your teary eyes. You shake your head, tears start falling down your eyes watching your husband that’s stuck in place with wide eyes.

“I’m going to pass out, baby, are you serious?” Jungkook's face scrunches up as tears fill his eyes, “baby, you’re pregnant?” He drops the shoes and moves closer to you, his hands holding your face waiting for you to say something.

“Yes, I’m pregnant,” You sniffle with a smile, reaching to wipe your husband's tears. Before you know it, he jumps up, fist bumps the air, and starts screaming.

“Fuck yes!” He shouts to the air as he runs around the house as you burst out laughing, “I’m going to be a dad, oh my fucking god!” He runs back to pick you up from the carpet, smashing his lips on yours, spinning around.

“You’re going to be a mommy, you’re going to be such an amazing mom,” Jungkook says between each kiss he leaves all over your face, making you giggle. You felt stupid for even worrying in the first place how he would react.

“I think it’s going to be a boy,” Jungkook sets you down, “Baby, it’s been two days since I found out,” You say,

“You knew for two days and you didn’t tell me?” He gasps dramatically, “I was thinking about how to tell you,” you reassure him, which he only nods, giving you a big fat kiss.

“Do you think it’s too soon to buy his crib right now?” Jungkook asks enthusiastically.

“Jeon..” you give him a look, “yes it’s too early and don’t call it ‘he,’ we don’t know what it might be,” you say, before getting on your tiptoes, leaving a kiss on his lips, leaving him in the living room making your way to the kitchen.

“You just called him and ‘it,’ that's so much worse!” Jungkook argues, following behind you.

…

“Your handwriting is shit, to say the least,” you say as your husband writes on the small index card. “You have a way to flirt with me, baby, thank you so much, I love you too,” he says as he glares up at you before returning to writing on the card.

“Do you even think they’ll open the cookies?” You pop your hip out, watching your husband. “You know they only come to our house for the cookies, right? They don’t give a fuck about us,” Jungkook bites a laugh as you pout. “Well, now I don’t want to tell them shit,” you joke, staring at the words on the card.

“Do you even think they’ll understand that? They’re a little slow,” Jungkook wraps his hand over your shoulder, messing up your perfectly curled hair. “Um, they'll figure it out, they got a Joonie to help them,” you shrug before stealing a cookie from the packet and running off.

“I’m so hungry,” Lora says, her hand on her stomach as if that would silence the growling happening inside.

“There are cookies on the counter,” you point to the kitchen, which Jungkook smirks at you.

With that, everyone stands up, dashing to the kitchen, acting like they never had a cookie in their life. You truly had no idea how all of you became obsessed with chocolate chip cookies; all of your guys' houses have a bunch of packages lying everywhere to eat. It was common and normal for all of you; for others, it might seem bizarre seeing grown adults fight over cookies.

“I swear cookies taste so much better in Kook's house,” Jimin rants as he watches Hoseok open the bag, stopping in his tracks as he reads the note. Lora and Ari try reaching in for a cookie, completely ignoring the note but getting swatted away by Namjoon.

“Y/n is pregnant!” Namjoon shouts, which sends everyone's mouths hanging open. “You’re fucking joking!” Seokjin gasps as he runs towards you and Jungkook, embracing you in a tight hug.

“Oh my god, they really got down to business,” Taehyung says, getting a swat from Lora who’s glaring at him before pointing her eyes at Jiho beside her. “Am I the only one who doesn’t get the note?” Jimin says as he reads the card, as everyone congratulates and hugs you and Jungkook.

“Eat up, mommy Y/n doesn’t want to be the only one with a belly, love baby!” Jimin reads the card, holding it up in the air after he’s done reading it.

“I told you someone was not going to know what it meant,” Jungkook whispers into your ear, only for you to hear, which makes you chuckle under your breath.

“You’re just mad I had to explain it to you,” you whisper back, which gets you a kiss on your cheek.

2K notes · View notes

jungkookstatts · 3 months

Text

Cherry Flavored

[Summary]: Your biker boyfriend takes you on a joyride.

[Theme]: Established realtionship!AU, Biker!JK

[Rating]: 18+, explicit content, oral (f receiving), spitting, dom!JK, riding, creampie, spanking

[Word Count]: 5,498

[A/N]: The biker verse has come to me in the new year. So has covid. But biker fantasies heal me. Enjoy! (P.s. thinking of doing a Tae fic soon??)

“Just, hold onto me,” Jungkook smiles. It’s a toothy grin, one that would usually send butterflies of affection straight to your tummy. His lip piercings shine like the metal around his fingers and ears, catching the midnight glow of the street lamps against them.

“There’s no seat belt,” you exhale.

“Of course,” he laughs a little. Brown hairs fall over his forehead with the soft force of his voice. You’re too nervous to move them out of the way like you usually would right now. “It’s a motorcycle, baby. I’m your seat belt.”

You laugh in disbelief.

“Kook, I’m not sure—” you begin, but he stops you. Cold hands cup your cheeks, his nose inches from yours. You can smell cherries on his breath, left over from the cherry flavored lollipop he bought from one of the gum ball machines at the entrance of the diner you just ate at.

“Baby,” he kisses your lips once. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you, you know that.”

You exhale against his lips, knowing his words are true. But still, your mind can’t help but evaluate all the “what ifs”.

“I’ll go slow,” he smiles softly. “No games.”

“Promise?” You search his eyes. You know he isn’t lying. He’d never play with your safety like that. He loves you too much. Such an over protective boyfriend. A big teddy bear at heart despite the piercings, tattoos, and loud motorcycle he has to his name. He’d never do anything to harm you.

“I promise,” he kisses you again. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” you exhale. The boy smiles again. It shoves your nervous butterflies away and briefly replaces them with those affectionate butterflies you missed dearly.

“Good,” he kisses you deeper this time. You feel his pillowy lips against yours, sliding between your lips like they were made to be there. You almost grab his jaw to keep him against you. But he cuts the kiss short. The taste of cherries is left on your lips when he pulls away and grabs the spare helmet off the back of his bike.

“Put this on,” he hands it to you. It’s black and glossy and twice the size of your head. But you slide it on anyways, looking at your boyfriend through the tinted glasses of the helmet.

“How do I look?” You ask him.

Jungkook’s heart nearly flips. Who would have thought you’d be so cute with a helmet on? He did. You just confirmed it.

“Cold,” he settles with. Pulling of his biker jacket, he puts it over your shoulders. It’s night, and the air will only get colder once he starts riding. The jacket will provide extra protection if you fall, too. It’s thick exterior and interior act as a buffer against any surface. He doesn’t have a spare, but he’d risk himself for you on any occasion.

You slide the bulky sleeves up your arms, feeling slightly uncomfortable by the unfamiliar garment. It doesn’t really feel like a proper jacket, too stiff and thick to have on unless you were riding.

“Now, the key is to just lean,” he puts his own helmet over his head, trying to refocus. You watch his tattooed fingers grasp the handle of the left side of his bike after he walks over to it. “And hold onto me. Tight.”

He swings a leg over his bike, situating himself. Cocking his head to the side, he signals to you to come over. You do as you’re told.

With timid hands, you tightly hold onto his shoulder and hike yourself over his bike. It wobbles, and your heart skips a couple beats at the thought of falling. But Jungkook is calm, and you feel slightly reassured knowing he trusts the bike won’t do as you thought it would.

“H-How tight?” You ask, wrapping your arms around his waist. The softness of his t-shirt makes you feel better. Rather, the feeling of his body underneath your fingertips does. It’s soft and warm, but you feel the ridges of his abs as you test the tightness of your grip.

“Tighter,” he asks. You do.

He shakes his head. You see a wrinkle in his eye, knowing he’s smiling behind his helmet. With his rough hands, he grabs your own, tightening them himself around his waist.

“For dear life, Y/n,” he rubs your hands soothingly afterward.

You nod, doing as he says. A raspy chuckle leaves his lips at the tightness of your grip. He pulls his biker gloves and his keys out of his pocket before putting them on. With a twist of his key, the bike comes to life with a loud roar, and you somehow grip him tighter. He wishes you could see the blush he has going on right now. It’s worthy of a few lines of humiliation you like to throw at him whenever he’s feeling flustered by you.

“You ready?” He double checks.

You take a deep breath, telling him yes, which prompts him to lean the bike to the side and kick up the kickstand. He leans forward a little, and you move with him. With a flick of his wrist, you’re moving with him on his bike.

You feel the adrenaline pumping through your veins. The bike is moving! You’re gripping his t-shirt, probably some of his skin underneath, too, holding on for dear life like he instructed.

“Kook!” You inhale, weary of the already fast approaching speed. Little do you know he’s barely made it to the local street speed limit.

“Trust me,” he tells you surely.

Looking at the sureness of his hands on the steering, the steadiness of his pace, you decide it’s time you really do. This is Jungkook. He wouldn’t let you backpack unless he knew he was sure enough to handle you as one, unless he knew you’d be safe with him as a rider. He’s been training for this moment. Never proposing the idea until recently, and you knew it was because he finally felt ready to be trusted with your safety.

You’re still a little nervous, but you’ve transferred most of that into your arms and hands. You hold onto him, wrapping your arms fully around his waist, leaning into his back as you let him guide you through the night. He’s guided you through many things in life. Your first tattoo, your first New Years kiss. Your first true love. You trust him with your soul. You love him with all of it, too.

Under his helmet, Jungkook smiles with content when you wrap your hands around him. You’re trusting him. He feels the weight of responsibility. But moreover, the excitement of showing you something he loves. Of showing someone he loves something he loves to do. Riding through the night with wind going against him. The motor of his bike propelling him forward as he rides under the stars. How he’s dreamed of taking you on one of his joyrides. Something in him knew you would like it.

He goes faster, not daring to enter the highway on your first ride without your permission. But he goes through the local roads, hitting the exact speed of the speed limit given to him. Not going a unit over the number on the signs. You giggle when you realize, knowing the boy you hold onto usually does go a little over, even in the car. But the fact fills you with warmth that he wouldn’t dare play games with speed right now. Not with you on his back.

After a certain point, you reach a red light, and he puts a foot on the ground to stabilize the bike at the stop.

“How do you like it?” He turns his head slightly to check in with you.

“I love it,” you smile. “I love you.”

His big heart skips, and he looks back at the time on the cross walk to see if he has enough time to kiss you silly from your confession. But you give him no time.

“You can go faster,” you scooch closer to him.

“You sure?” He looks back at you again. The red reflection of the light still beams on his helmet.

You nod. “Take me on the highway, Kook.”

Suddenly, the light turns green.

“Okay,” he shakes his head in disbelief. A small laugh erupts through his chest. When did you get so dauntless? “Better hold on, then.”

You squeal, doing as he says when he accelerates forward. He’s faster this time, still stable and not at all reckless. But the wind catches your clothes enough to know he’s going to do as promised.

The laughs that erupt from your body when he hits the highway is enough to solidify that he’s so totally going to kiss you so silly tonight. Maybe all night, if you’ll let him.

He stays in the slow lane, going the minimum speed the highway gives, and yet you’re screaming joy and laughing relief out of your lungs as he guides you through the night. Just you and your biker boyfriend.

You trust him enough to take one hand away, letting your fingertips feel the wind of this summer night. But it’s interrupted after a while when Jungkook’s hand returns your own his waist. He pats the top of your palm a few times, telling you to behave, and you do. You hold him tighter, if that’s possible. Scooching closer to him as he finishes the ride off the highway.

The streets start to look familiar, the houses and street names ringing bells in your head. You’re sad to end the ride, honestly. Especially when he pulls up to his townhome, sliding into the parking spot right in front of it all a little too soon.

With steady hands, you sit up from your leaned position, still holding his waist, as he turns off the bike. Jungkook pulls off his helmet, brown messy hair falling around his ears from the release of the protective gear. There’s a bit of sweat forming at the base of his hairline, and you almost went to kiss it if it weren’t for your helmet. Before you can take it off, the man is already standing up, positioning himself in front of you to pull it off himself. You swing your leg around the bike, leaning your feet against the pavement as you stay seated. He stares down at you, tall and handsome as he awaits your approval.

“Well?” He tugs his lips upward. The piercings on his eyebrow dance as he raises it.

“I loved it,” you candor. “I kind of want to suck your cock right now.”

He laughs, crinkled nose and all. That nose nudges with yours when he kisses you. It’s slower than the pecks from before, when he was coaxing you into the joyride with him.

“That much?” He laughs. Those rough hands of his help you stand, the reminder of chest against yours only makes your heart flutter more. “Should have taken you sooner, then.”

“It was perfect, Kook,” you hold his jaw. “I really loved it.”

He looks at the stars in your eyes. The overwhelming presence of you in his biker jacket, holding his spare helmet in one hand and his jaw in the other. God, could you be any more perfect? He doesn’t know what to do with himself.

So he leans into you, holding the back of your neck as he sears his lips onto yours. He’s still cherry flavored, and you can taste it surely when he dips his tongue into your mouth. You envelope it warmly, kissing him with all the love you have. Except you wish you could feel more of him, have his skin against yours. You want the hand that holds his helmet to hold your waist. For your own hand that holds his spare to run through his hair. You want to be on his lap, to look at him from above, sweaty hair and brown eyes.

He seems to read your mind, detaching your lips only slightly when he whispers against them, “Do you want to go in?”

You nod, watching him smile knowingly. It’s one of those smiles he gives when he’s shy, when he feels bashful and is receiving more attention than he’s used to. It’s one of his cutest smiles to-date. The desire to jump his bones is stronger than it’s been all night.

You follow him as he walks up to the door. He takes your helmet from his hand and balances it on his finger like he does with his own. The key turns, and the smell of his apartment fills your lungs. It smells like him. Like man, but better. A strange thing to think about, as you never associated “man” with smelling good. But he does, somehow. He smells like home.

You follow in suit, taking your shoes off as he does the same when hooking your helmets on his biking rack next to his door. You lock it for him, and he smiles back at you in a quick thanks.

Quickly, you tread in front of him, becoming taller as you leave him in the shoe divot in front of the door.

“So does this mean you’ll let me take you on a few of my joyrides, then?” he asks you.

“You can take me on all of them if you want to,” you promise.

He comes up to you, destroying the height confidence you had from before when he steps up from the shoe divot.

“I love you,” he cups your jaw with both of his hands this time. Puffy lips connect with yours, they’re hot and slightly damp, firmly kissing you. Passion presses your back against the wall, his frame engulfing your body in love and lust as he kisses you. You can only return the favor, sliding your hands up his clothed chest. He breaks his grasp on your jaw when your hands slide around his neck, prompting him to replace his hands underneath your thighs instead. With no effort at all, as if you weigh a feather in his strong arms, he lifts you around his waist.

The new angle allows you to kiss him deeper, your hand securing around his neck and shoulder. Big hands hold your waist and back. He walks with you, messing around through his apartment, taking you to his bedroom by pure muscle memory as he’s too distracted by the smell your clothes against his skin to focus on anything else.

For a second, his hand leaves your back to push open his door. The lamp on his bedside table is still on, something he forgot to turn off when he left to meet you at the diner with your friend and her date earlier.

Gently, almost as if you were made of glass, he lays you on his sheets. You still have his biker jacket on, and he swears it’s never looked better on anyone else.

“Biker looks good on you,” he says, admiring you from above.

“Want me to leave it on?” You suggest, an eyebrow raise up at him.

You visibly see his cheeks turn red, and you have your answer before he can even say it.

“You don’t have to,” he denies. But you’re already sliding it off, taking your shirt and bra underneath before bringing the jacket over your shoulder again and zipping it up halfway.

He looks at you, bewildered and so terribly infatuated before he hides his face in his palm and groans. He’s so unbelievably flustered and he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

“You’re going to kill me, Y/n,” he muffles in his hand.

You almost say something, but he’s already trapping your frame underneath his, searing his lips onto the skin of your neck. He bites and sucks at your skin, marking you in his purple and blue love bites. You can’t get enough, tilting your head for more, which he gladly gives you.

You pant lustfully in response when he hits your sweet spot. His lips are delicate at first when he comes across the territory he’s memorized so well. But you know better than to think that he’d stay that way. Not when he knows how it causes you to slide your hands in his hair and pull at his scalp in the way he likes best. Not when he knows you’ll react with the breathy moans he loves so much that flow from your lips at the slightest kiss. So he does just that, feeling your back arch into his chest and your fingers tangle in his hair when he plays with your pleasure.

“Jungkook,” you flutter. His lips feel so good, like they were made to make you feel like this.

He kisses down your neck, coming to the base of the zipper you left done halfway up the jacket. Slowly, he unzips it, watching the fabric part ways as gravity takes it to the sides of the bed. The jacket doesn’t completely reveal your breasts though, so he takes matters into his own hands and cups them from underneath.

His stare makes you feel shy, and you inhale sharply when his thumbs brush over your nipples slightly. The reaction makes you even more shy, and you cover your mouth with the back of your hand to hide the small moans that leave your mouth.

“So pretty,” he looks up at you.

You tug at the rim of his t-shirt, begging him to take it off as you lay open chested below him. He only chuckles at the realization, seeing that he’s still fully clothed, way too preoccupied with you to take care of himself.

He does as you ask and more, tugging off his t-shirt and his jeans, leaving him in only his boxers. You feel a wave of slick come through your panties at the sight. Tattoos and muscles stare back at you. You try to ignore the halfy he’s sporting in his boxers, a pure reminder of the activities you wanted to give to him as a thank you for taking you for a ride on his bike.

But he’s quick to turn you down when you sit up to do just that, hiking his fingers under your pants and sliding them down along with your underwear. He throws them somewhere on his floor, falling to his knees to admire you.

“Oh honey,” he marvels at the sight, sliding a slender finger gently up your folds. “You’re soaked.”

You whimper against the back of your hand.

“I-I wanted to suck you off,” you protest, placing a hand on his wrist. Not because you necessarily want him to stop, but because you were scared about how good his touch feels already. “As a thank you.”

“What for, baby?” He stops playing with you, his spare hand cups your thigh. Soothingly, his thumb rubs against your skin, waiting for your answer.

“For letting me ride with you,” you respond.

“You don’t need me to thank me for that, sweetheart,” he smiles gently. “I’d allow you to ride with me any time you want. I need to thank you for trusting me enough to want to,” he takes your hand in his. Those big doe eyes capture yours, asking for permission with stars in his eyes. “Will you let me?”

Fuck, will this man be the end of you. Of course you will, you’re basically leaking infront of his face.

You nod, and he shyly smiles again. The hand that had previously slipped up your folds springs to life again. This time, it circles your entrance gently, causing you to whimper into your skin. Hot lips envelope your clit, his tongue playing with you softly.

“K-Kook,” you gasp at the feeling. He only hums, his eyes closing when he applies more pressure into your leaking heat. The vibrations from his moans against your clit cause you to arch your back, your head falling back against the sheets when his fingers play in tandem with his tongue. They tempt over your cunt, circling your hole and gathering your juices just enough to make you go crazy.

He detaches his mouth for a brief moment, his lips covered in your heat, red with lust, as he watches you squirm when he replaces his thumb with his tongue over your clit. His mouth always does wonders, but something about his thumb against that ball of nerves makes you clutch onto your orgasm for dear life. It’s firm against you, not too harsh, but just enough to make you feel all of it when he circles it slowly underneath his thumb. Jungkook pulls your hips closer to the edge of the bed, completely in control as you let him thank you. He watches you carefully as he inserts a finger into your aching pussy, seeing how you gasp and grab onto his wrist. But he’s stronger than you, and you’re fully aware of that. You also don’t want him to stop—your grasping onto him a mere reaction for support.

“Does that feel good, baby?” He asks you. He’s so gentle, always so cautious at first. You know at one point he’ll become a sex demon and ram you into the sheets. But he’s being a sweetheart right now, wanting to coax an orgasm or two out of you first. He does it right.

“Mhm,” you solidify. Your answer is weak, too taken over by the sliding of his finger against your walls.

“Do you want my mouth?” He asks. You know he’s asking permission, well too aware that the combo is a recipe for an orgasm.

“Y-yes, please,” you give it to him.

He chuckles at your polite response, although it takes over his desire in ways that he’s struggling to control. You’re just so sweet to him, always so perfect in every way. He couldn’t ask for anything more. You’re perfect. And you’re his.

He replaces his thumb with his mouth again, this time moving faster than before. His pace quickens, and he adds another finger to your dripping cunt. The feeling makes you dig your fingers into his hair, pressing him against your pussy. It gets him high, moaning against your cunt shyly as he curls his fingers against your g-spot.

“Jungkook, m’ gonna cum,” you whine into air. Both your hands secure his head on your mound, as if he’d leave before you finish.

He feels you clench around his fingers, so damn tight his cock twitches in his boxers embarrassingly. But he ignores it, taking his mouth off your cunt to give you his thumb again. The change makes you arch your back, the coil in your tummy slowly unraveling beneath him.

“There you go,” he coaxes you. “Good girl.”

You gush at the nickname. White heat flows around his fingers, and he replaces them with his tongue as you finish against his lips. The sensation is almost too much, your over sensitivity making you whimper and close your thighs around his head to stop him.

“K-Koo,” you whine. “Sensitive.”

He finishes up at your request, swallowing your release sweetly. He leaves you gently to stand up, tossing his boxers somewhere on the floor. You’re left to catch your breath, an arm over your eyes as you gasp into the air of his bedroom. Only when you feel his familiar frame tower over you again do you look up. You’re met with a sweaty man with wet lips and a lovestuck smile plastered on his features.

“You okay?” He kisses your forehead.

“Mm,” is all you have the strength to say.

You feel his thumb pry your mouth open.

“Open for me,” he asks you anyways. You mewl when you see him gathering spit in his mouth. He transfers it to you rudely, and you feel you might just cum again from the sheer force of it. He’s so hot, you feel overwhelmed.

You feel it enough to gain the strength to flip him over when he’s off guard, straddling his hips with his biker jacket on your shoulders.

“What’s this?” He grabs your waist. God, you look so good in his clothes.

“Let me give you a ride this time, Kookie,” you suggest.

He swears he’s never heard anything hotter in his life. It makes his dick leak with precum, your suggestion paired with his favorite girl in his favorite jacket ontop of him.

Your soft hands lay on his chest for support as you lift up your hips. He helps you, grabbing your waist with his big hands. You grab his cock, so big and just for you, lining it up with your wet cunt. You slide it in with a small gasp of your lips, and you swear you see his eyes roll back slightly at the feeling.

“Oh,” you softly gasp as he fills you up. The stretch is so good from this angle, filling every inch of your walls up to the brim. You feel all of him, and he can feel all of you, too. You know it with the way he grips your hips, telling you to give him a minute when you reach the base.

You give him just that, before you test the waters again and start a pace.

“Fuck,” he tilts his head back. You riding him is an entirely different sensation, his thighs slack and your ass bouncing on his cock as you use him for pleasure. You feel so good, you always feel so good. So perfect for him.

“Koo,” you mewl as your hands plant for support just below his rib cage. Your hips move perfectly, bouncing on his cock like it’s your day job. It’s exhausting, but it feels too good to stop. You won’t until it’s too much, until you can’t do it anymore.

You see why Jungkook likes to be on top most the time. The view from this angle is sickening. You see the sweat coming down from his scalp and neck. It begs to make entry into his forehead, and you hope at one point it does. Brown hair flops and lays over his skin and the sheets blow him. His Adams apple bobs every time he moans and swallows. You see every scar, mole, and blush this man presents to you. You feel entirely privileged that he is all yours.

He catches you staring, his big hands that you love so much cup your thighs on either side of his hips.

You feel sweaty in his jacket, already knowing it probably smells like sex and sweat already. You feel flush from the heat, and he seems to take note, coming up to hug around your waist with one arm and push off the jacket with the other. His legs dangle over the edge of the bed, supporting you on his lap as the jacket falls to the floor.

“So pretty,” he hums against your lips. His cock throbs inside of you, and you beg for friction, pushing your knees against the mattress and sliding up and down ontop of him again. “You like this, huh? You like fucking my cock?”

“Yes,” you whine against his neck. You feel like a horny teenager, unable to get enough of the man beneath you.

“So needy, baby,” he helps your pace with his hands on your hips. It’s quicker, making you dig your fingers into his scalp as you moan against his neck. “You like riding me? Tell me which one you like to ride more, my bike or my cock. Hm?”

“Y-You,” you respond almost immediately. But he doesn’t seem to like your answer, his hand landing a harsh slap against your ass that causes you to dig your nails into his shoulder.

“I can’t hear you, baby,” he kisses your neck.

You somehow muster the strength to face him again, your hips changing direction slightly to rock back and forth against him. It makes your cheeks feel numb and your fingers tingly, his dick pressing against your g-spot so delicately.

You nudge your nose against his, his cherry flavored lips ever so slightly touching yours.

“You,” you repeat. “I like to ride you more than anything.”

That seems to do it for him, your short ride of dominance ended as his lips take you over. He kisses you until he’s got you in your back again, his body obsessed with your own.

“So perfect for me,” he kisses you. “Let me fuck you good, yeah? My perfect baby.”

You can only nod, ready to come back to your throne as pillow princess. Your boyfriend takes your thighs, hiking them up around his back before he rams into you.

He fucks you like he’s in heat, needy and overwhelmed. His tip hits you in all the right places, causing you to arch your back into his chest. You scratch at his tattoos, chanting his name against his neck as he makes you feel good over and over again.

“J-Jungkook,” you gasp. You try to say your words, but you’re hit with euphoria with every thrust he delivers into your body. “Koo, I-“

“I know, baby,” he shushes you, a kiss to your cheek. “Just cum for me, hm?” He suggests.

“C-Close,” you tell him. The man seems to know your body more than you know it yourself, his lips reattaching to your sweet spot so delicately, it doesn’t match up at all with the way his hips piston into you. “Jungkook,” you gasp when he sucks there. The familiar feeling in the pit of your stomach returns, and you feel warm throughout your entire body.

With his hair in your face, lips on your neck, and hands caging your body beneath his, you tighten around his cock, unraveling for the second time underneath the man above you.

You feel him twitch, knowing he’s not that far behind you. He moans so sweetly against your neck when you tighten around him, his hips losing rhythm as you cum on his dick.

“Sso tight,” he groans against your neck. “I-Is inside okay?”

“Y-Yes,” you sigh against his ear. You’re so fucked out, so obsessed with him. You really don’t know if there’s a request out of his cherry lips you can deny.

“Oh, ah—“ he grips the sheets, balling them up in his fists. “M’ gonna cum.”

You simply run your hand through his hair, gripping it strongly as he thrusts harshly inside you. It overstimulates you, and you pant his name against his scalp as his seed spills out of you in hot, thick ropes. His moans are like music to your ears. So breathy and sweet. You swear you’ve never heard anything more lovely in your life.

The two of you calm down, your sweaty bodies absolutely filthy with summer night air, the smell of motorcycle exhaust, sex, sweat, and cum. It starts to make you cringe after a while. Ever the attentive one, your boyfriend notices and comes up from his place by your neck.

He gives you a soft smile before pecking your lips gently.

“I’ll start the shower,” he offers, pecking your lips again.

You let him leave you for a few seconds. Feeling cold and bare, you get up and search for your clothes. But you’re unable to find them, probably kicked somewhere underneath the bed. You only see Jungkook’s t-shirt and his jacket from before. So you slide the t-shirt over your head, feeling giddy again with the smell of him engulfing your senses.

With sore legs and an aching core, you walk over to the bathroom, hugging your man from behind like you did on his bike just an hour ago.

“This is my favorite part,” you start, holding him tighter.

“Hugging me?” He asks.

“Mhm,” you confirm.

You feel him laugh a bit in your arms, turning around in them only to poke at your frown.

“I like to hold you close. Especially when you go fast suddenly and I get a little scared,” you look up at him.

The shower mist fills up the mirror, and the heat lulls you into the feeling of sleepiness his aftercare always gives you.

“I never want to scare you,” he kisses your forehead. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” you lean into his palm, his hand holding your face close as he kisses your swollen lips softly.

“Now, let’s get you cleaned up,” he cups your hips.

You open your eyes, watching him eye the shirt you’re wearing.

“Seriously, baby, you gotta stop wearing my clothes,” he slides his t-shirt over your head. “It’s doing things to me.”

“Maybe tomorrow I’ll wear your biker suit then,” you wiggle your eyebrows.

“Now that would murder me.”

***

[End. Do not copy. Original work of @jungkookstatts , 2024]

2K notes · View notes

jeonggukieverse · 6 months

Note

So I saw you were taking requests, how about writing on this idea that Jungkook is dating someone (they have been dating for a long time) who would always smile and say it's okay whenever Jk misses out on important things of y/n's life, and the boys would constantly hint that jk should give y/n more time. Jk gets super sad once she realises that he might be not making y/n happy anymore. A fluffy ending please. 💓 I hope this isn't too much ...

Mind & Music

Pairing: Composer Jungkook x Academic Female Reader

Genre: Established relationship, Absolutely Filthy Smut, Fluff, Angsty

Warnings: Unprotected sex (wrap it up babes), mentions impregnation

Word count: 10k+

My first fic in ages! Feels good to be writing again~ This in not proofread because I was to excited to be uploading again hahah.

This request has been in my inbox for ages, thank you for being patient anon. Love ya

Let me know how you guys like it

- Ryeon <3

He isn’t here. You half expected him not to be.

Still, you found yourself gazing into the audience half expecting to see that specific mop of black hair. Again, disappointment pulls at your heart as you still don’t find it.

You hear your name being called and it snapped you out of your disheartening thoughts. You stood up and walked over to the podium and began your speech.

“Thank you all for coming out today. It’s a privilege to be presented with this award. I am honoured to be standing here in front of you as the youngest recipient of the universities achievement of the decade award. Though I would not have been able to do this without the support and guidance of- “

You pause for a moment as you saw familiar smiling faces staring back at you in the crowd. Yoongi and Tae beamed at you from the back of the auditorium. Even from so far away, you could still feel the smiles radiating from their faces. You mirrored their expressions and met their proud grins with one of your own as you continued your speech. Having them here almost made all of your butterflies flutter away. Almost. Cause only the presence of one person could have caused them to disappear completely.

After the ceremony was over, you rushed out to find your friends. You spotted them stood by the food table munching on some snacks. Your eyes locked with Tae’s first as you ran towards both men and rugby tackled them both into a giant bear hug.

“Y/N-ah! Please, be careful! You could have knocked over my cucumber sandwich” You rolled your eyes at Taehyung ‘smocking tone.

“Cucumber? That’s a little bland for you Kim Taehyung”

“First of all, don’t use my government name in public and second of all, it’s the best option this place has to offer. I mean, I get it, it’s Yonsei’s international focused program so it’s going to cater to foreigners but babe, you are in Korea! Where are the spices? Where is the flavour? Where is the taste?” He ranted while wiggling the pale looking sandwich in his hand. You giggled but you couldn’t deny he was wrong.

“Hey! As a foreigner, I do not claim this cuisine” You retorted.

“If you say so” Tae rolled his eyes.

You shook your head at him then turned your attention to the quiet figure next to you.

Yoongi smiled and held his hand towards you.

“The youngest recipient of the achievement of the decade award, huh? Very impressive”

Coming from anyone else, that sentence would have come out as painfully sarcastic but you knew coming from yoongi, it was the highest compliment he could have bestowed on a human being. You completely ignored his attempt at a hand shake and pulled him into a tight hug instead that he gladly accepted.

Yoongi was the first friend you had made in Korea. You had met on a language exchange app. He was the only guy you had spoken to that hadn’t asked to go ‘eat ramen’ with you, go ‘see his cat’ or ask you to join a cult. But still you carried pepper spray in your bag when you agreed to meet him at the coffee shop because stranger danger is still a thing. It turns out you didn’t need it cause Yoongi was the sweetest guy you had ever met. Blunt as hell but lovely still. You recalled fondly that upon your first meeting that he had told you that your Korean pronunciation was like an elementary school kid. Did it sting? Absolutely. Was it the last time he would say something like that? Absolutely not. But he made sure you improved and got better. He decided midway through your friendship that learning English was ‘too troublesome’ for him. He had made up his mind that listening to you speak English occasionally was the best way to learn…Sure yoongs.

It was actually Yoongi that introduced you to your boyfriend. Speaking of

“So where is he?”

Yoongi’s smile dropped slightly as he absorbed your change in mood.

“He’s in the studio with Joon. They’re still working on finalising the soundtrack.”

You forced a smile on your face, sensing the awkwardness in his voice.

“Ah, its okay! He’s working, I’m happy he at least has a good excuse! If he was at home playing overwatch or something, I would have been super mad” you said hoping your joking tone would mask your disappointment.

Taehyung chuckled but you know Yoongi could read you like a book. He knew how you really felt.

“Let’s go! The rest of the guys said they’d be at the bar, right? I want to show them how cute I look in all my graduation gear. Seokjin is going to die of jealousy cause there is no way in hell he looked this good on his graduation”

“He’s gonna murder you for even insinuating that” Tae gasped in feigned shock.

“I’d like to see him try” you sang as you skipped in the middle of the two men. You hooked both of your arms in theirs and pulled them towards the exit.

“There she is!”

This was the first thing you heard before you were met with a flurry of applause and cheers as you stepped into the bar.

You saw the gang sat at your regular booths now decorated with pink and white balloons and confetti. The table adorned with gifts and ‘congratulations banners’. Jimin, Seokjin, Hobi and Jennie stood there holding bottles of champaign. You felt your eyes start to well up, completely touched by the kind gesture.

“Aww you guys” you spoke, voice wavering.

“Ha! Pay up Seokjin, I told you Y/N would start crying before she even sat down! Thanks Y/N, you just won me 50000 won” Jennie exclaimed.

“No! Technically, she hasn’t cried! No tears have fallen from her eyes. C’mon Y/N keep it together” Jin begged.

“Sorry Jin, I gotta get my girl her money” You replied, blinking hard so the tears would run down your cheeks.

The group erupted in laughter as Soekjin took out his wallet.

“That’s enough you two. Tonight, is about Y/N. Congratulations sweetheart.” Jimin said as he pulled you into a hug. You accepted his embrace but you found yourself looking over his shoulder to see if your boyfriend was amongst the crowd. He wasn’t.

“Yeah, it’s about me! And my goal is to be as drunk as possible by the end of the night!” you proclaimed earning you more cheers from the group. Hopefully if you’re drunk, this feeling of disappointment will eventually go away.

And it does. After 4 shots of soju, 2 vodka lemonades and a weird cocktail concoction Jimin force fed you, you were feeling better than ever. You were on the dance floor with Jennie having the time of your life. That was until you felt arms wrap around your waist.

Oh hell no.

You spun yourself around ready to fight whoever in the hell thought they could touch you unprovoked. Before you could administer your first blow, you were met with a pair of beautifully familiar brown eyes.

There he was. Jeon Jungkook.

Your fighting stance shifted as you reached up to wrap your arms around his neck to envelop him in a warm hold. You inhaled his scent as he began to lovingly plant soft kisses in the crook of your neck. You felt a familiar fire start to burn at the pit of your stomach. His innocent gesture in your drunken state was igniting a reaction in you that you were eager to explore.

“I’m sorry baby” he whispered in your ear.

And just like that, the feeling was gone. At those three words your vagina dried up quicker than the Sahara Desert. Cause as quickly as you had forgotten, you were reminded once again that he had let you down again. But could you be mad? He was working. This had been his dream since he was a little kid and they were so close to finalising this project, they just needed to finish to complete some final composition. Could you be mad at him? You decide once again, that you couldn’t. Once again, you put his needs before yours. You pulled away from his shoulder and met his face. You plastered a fake smile on and put on another show.

“Baby, don’t be silly! Don’t worry about it, you’re here now, that’s all that matters.”

“Thank you, baby. I’ll make it up to you”

“I know you will”

And he did.

The next day, Jungkook took you out to a beautiful dinner to celebrate your achievement. You loved him and you appreciated the gesture, you always did. But you couldn’t help still feeling hurt.

You supported Jungkook, you always had and you always would.

It’s funny to think about how devoted you were to him considering how rocky your fist interaction was.

Jungkook was Yoongi’s roommate. You and yoongi had been friends now for about four months before he finally decided to invite you over to his apartment. You had to say, this made you very nervous because Yoongi had always been such a private guy. You knew enough about him to say that you were friends but he always kept himself to himself. This was a part of him that was refreshing to you, really. He was excellent at establishing boundaries. You’ve never had a friend like that before. He was very mature but also very kind and very sweet. So, when he invited you over to game night with his friends you were ecstatic. It’s finally felt like he let you in and that you became real friends.

And as excited as you were, you were equally nervous. Yoongi had told you bits and pieces about his friends but he assured you they were all really nice.

You were still on edge but you assured yourself that you were a pleasant person! You had come out of your shell so much in the last couple of months. Your introverted personality had been spun on its head and you were now someone completely different. The constant support from Yoongi and your advancements in your career had made you feel absolutely unstoppable.

And isn’t it amazing? How months of character development can be wiped away in 2 seconds.

As soon as you walked into Yoongi’s apartment, you wished you could walk right back out because the second your eyes met with Jeon Jungkook it was very apparent, he did not like you. Like, at all.

The boy, who had previously been laughing and talking to his friend, made eye contact with you and completely shut down. The smile fell from his face and his body suddenly became stiff and rigid. He looked at you for a millisecond before tearing away eye contact completely.

You tried to ignore him. You really did because the rest of Yoongi’s friends were so cool. They made you feel welcome and you felt almost at ease. But still, your consciousness couldn’t help but wonder over to the pale, inked up boy stood in the kitchen dressed in an oversized t-shirt and ripped black denim.

As much as you tried to ignore it, his coldness didn’t alleviate through the night as you’d hoped. In fact, not only did it not get better; it got worse as the night went on. As everyone kept drinking more and more you felt yourself become a little bolder. What was this guys problem? You haven’t done anything to him, he had no reason to be this hostile to you.

You raised this with Namjoon, another one of Yoongi’s roommates, who assured you that Jungkook was always a little weary of strangers. He was a shy person that had great difficulty adjusting to new people. His advice was to give him time to warm up to you and when you felt ready, try and start a casual conversation.

But it wasn’t as if you hadn’t tried that. You’d made several attempts through the night to try and speak to him to at least extend the olive branch but each time he refused running away from you as if you had some kind of disease. You were sick of it.

You saw him alone on the balcony a few hours later and realised that this was your chance. You marched up to the doors and slipped out to give this guy a piece of your mind. Hearing the noise behind him Jungkook turned his head to be met with you. Again, panic started to run through his body as he tried to make an escape around you but you would not let him.

“What is your problem?! What did I do to you why are you so weird towards me? I know Yoongi and Namjoon said that you are very selective with your friends and that’s cool but I don’t know what I did to make you dislike me so much. Fucking hell, we just met today! What could I possibly have done that hurt your feelings so much?!” You yelled at him. Your words slightly slurred. Liquid courage was really on your side tonight cause there was no way in hell sober Y/N could yell at him like this. Especially hear on the balcony, his beautiful face illuminated by the moonlight. And the way the evening breeze ruffled through his dark locks made him look like an actual prince.

“Woah, where did you get the impression that I didn’t like you?”

Huh?!

His almost idiotic question quickly snapped you out of your thoughts. Was he being serious right now? Or is he just making fun of you?

“Are you kidding me? You haven’t looked at me the entire night, you haven’t introduced yourself and every time I come over to you to try and get some kind of conversation going you run off. Now tell me why are you doing all of that and not speaking to me like a normal human being !?”

“Because I think you’re pretty! And I’m intimidated by you!”

Eh?

You remained silent for what felt like forever. Did he really just say that or did you just imagine it? No, there is no way he woul-

“Jesus Christ, say something! Anything!” He huffed. Now putting the half empty beer bottle to his lips to stop his mouth from humiliating him even further.

Well, Jungkook thought, if he’s going to humiliate himself may as well fully go for it.

“You think Yoongi hasn’t told us about you? He’s told us how incredible you are. About how you’re a transfer student at the most prestigious college in Korea. About how you’re on track to be the recipient for the ‘biggest brain ever in the whole century award’ or whatever its called. He made you sound so cool; I was banking on you at least being a little bit of an asshole but again, Yoongi’s stories proved us wrong. He told us about how you willing let a random little girl sit next to you for 2 hours at a café because she wanted to practice speaking to you to improve her English. And if im being honest, the more I heard the more I wanted to meet you but when you came in today, looking as fucking beautiful as you do. Which Yoongi coincidentally forgot to mention which is funny cause he mentioned every- fucking -thing else. When you came in…”

He paused and let out a sigh. Breathing for what seemed like the first time since beginning his outburst.

“…When you came in, I realised how far away from me you were. And I dint have any business even speaking to you. We wouldn’t have anything in common and it would make me realise how inadequate I actually am”.

There was a pause again. Slowly, you began to let out a small giggle. Your small giggle quickly erupted into a full-bodied belly laugh. Your stomach began to hurt and your eyes began to water. You had to lean on the balcony door for support as you surely felt you would pass out.

During your breakdown, Jungkook could only stare at you his head tilted to the side like a confused bunny. His eyes fell to the floor as your laughter pierced him like a knife and was the cherry on top of his mortification.

“And you think Yoongi hasn’t told me about you, Jeon Jungkook?” You asked as your laughter subsided.

“Jeon Jungkook, the musical prodigy. The Jeon Jungkook that could play the piano before he could even walk. The Jeon Jungkook that everyone refers to as the Golden Maknae because you’re so good at everything. Your friends are very vocal about not just your talents in your field but also socially. Apparently, you’re the reason you guys even exist as a friend group. You were the one to make friends with each of them and bring them all together. Do you know how impressive that is?! But I’m intimidating cause I’m a little smart and I’m not mean to children? You are something else Jeon Jungkook.”

Jungkook paused again. A chuckle escaped his mouth as his laughter then began to mimic yours. You joined him again as both of you stood on the balcony laughing with or at each other. You must have looked like maniacs but at the time both of you were too buzzed to care.

Either way, this broke the ice between both of you as you were both able to bypass each other’s extensive achievements and finally got to know each other as people.

You’ll never forget that night. You and Jungkook sat on that balcony from 10pm to 7am, long after the others had left or gone to bed. Just talking about anything and everything until you both reached a comfortable silence.

And as the sun was rising, welcoming a brand-new morning you nudged Jungkook’s hand. His head lazily turned towards yours and he met you with a dimpled smile.

“For what it’s worth” You smiled back.

“I think you’re pretty and I’m intimidated by you too”

That was 5 years ago and you and balcony boy have been inseparable ever since. You had now been there for every single important moment in each other’s life. Well…Almost.

3 years ago, Jungkook and Namjoon got the opportunity to produce a music score for a short film. Despite the films small budget, it managed to exceed all expectations and ended up getting nominated for a golden globe! You were ecstatic and so fucking proud of him. You felt like his talents and hard work were finally getting realised.

Little did you know it would be a bittersweet moment for yours and Jungkook’s relationship. Naturally as more eyes were on the film, more ears were listening to the soundtrack. This had your boyfriend pulled off to here there and everywhere in front of directors and movie studios all interested in investing in the musical duo. And finally they had been hired to compose an entire score to a new movie for a huge studio! This movie in particular, Jungkook had begged and pleaded for. He said the scrip and film premise really spoke to him and were perfect and he needed to compose this movie. This was such a huge deal for them and again you were over the moon. But there were downsides. During the first year after their debut you saw Jungkook 10 times that whole year. You spoke almost every day but almost every conversation ended in an argument. It was either and argument about you feeling neglected or him not feeling supported and it sucked. It really took a toll on both of you.

The second year was much better. This time for a bit more of a selfish reason. The film studio had its own recording studio in Seoul only a 20-minute walk from yours and Jungkook’s apartment! He was finally able to be home more and you could actually spend time together. And so you did.

Honestly, the first 6 months Jungkook was back home all you guys did was fuck. It was constant and almost none stop. You fucked in every room of the house at all hours of the day. You couldn’t keep your hands off each other.

There was a day you both decided to take a break from having sex and just play some video games together. It took you both all of 5 minutes before sonic was long forgotten about and you were bent over the sofa.

It was very romantic really. But even that joy was short lived.

Jungkook prioritised his art. That was one thing you’d always respected and admired about him. Even the way he talked about music that wasn’t his, he painted the emotions of the music into words to explain to you the way a piece made him feel. He could describe to you in detail the way the crescendos bend in the moments before it’s about to fall. About how the vibrations of the violins is the most romantic sound ever to grace the human consciousness. He was an artist through and through. His music was him and he was his music. They were one and could not be separated. But that raised a question for you:

Where did you fit in?

This is what made the dinner you were on now very melancholic. It was to make up for him missing your award acceptance.

He was sorry. You knew he was but you couldn’t ignore that this was your forth make up dinner this year: First was your birthday, second was your anniversary, third was dinner with your parents (that they had specifically flown out to Korea for) and the forth was the award. The award he knew you were on track to get before he’d even met you. The award you’d poured your heart into getting and the one you’d sacrificed so much for. But he was sorry, right? Plus, he had promised to make it up to you. Next week your professor had invited you to the university to give a special lecture to other projected recipients of the award you’d just achieved. It was a high honour as these students were the best and the brightest students from countries all over the world and of all the recipients to give the lecture, they had requested you! There have been recipients before you that had gone on to win Nobel Peace Prizes but they had specifically requested you. And Jungkook was so proud of you.

“Are you okay, little mouse? You seem a little quiet tonight”. Jungkook asked, genuine concern apparent on his face.

“I’m just thinking bunny boy.”

“About me?” He winked at you, almost cartoonishly.

“Bunny boy, how can you cross my mind if you never leave it” you winked back at him with the same playfully cartoonish obnoxiousness.

“Ooh that’s going on my list”

For the past 5 years of your relationship Jungkook has been keeping a list of things you say to him that makes him smile. This list has always confused you cause it would always be the silliest stuff. Once, when he was sleeping, you went and snooped through his notes app just to see this list and you couldn’t believe it. You were expecting the most romantic phrases or compliments that fluffed his ego but instead, the top three (out of four thousand!) were:

“I’d fight a microwave for you”

“You smell like home”

“I think you’re pretty and I’m intimidated by you too”

You woke him up immediately to ask about it. But his only defence was they were phrases you said that make him smile. You’re understanding of his list was ‘irrelevant’ to him.

God, you loved him.

“You’re so silly. But seriously Kookie; don’t worry, I’m good. Plus, you’re the one who’s been talking my ear off all night. I’m surprised you’ve even noticed me being quite” You quipped playfully, taking a sip of your wine.

“Ooh, someone’s feisty tonight. I forgot what red wine does to you” He quipped back; eyebrows now raised highlighting the metal bar that accented it.

God, he was cool.

“How could you forget? The first time we met I was wine drunk”

“Ah yes, how could I forget. You get very mouthy off of red wine. Don’t worry, I know how I can put that mouth to good use”

“Jeon Jungkook!” You yelled at him in a whisper. Eyes darting around to see if anyone had heard your boyfriends lewd comment. Luck for you the other couples around you’re were too infatuated with their partners to even notice you guys.

“Well, while were in pubic, put that mouth to better use and tell me about your day” he said, now leaning back in his chair.

“Well, my day was pretty calm actually. It makes a change. I was walking Ban and bumped into Holly and Yoongi. We were talking about next week and he asked if he could bring a plus one. Wink, wink”

“A plus one! Is Yoongi dating?! In the 12 years I’ve known the guy he has never shown romantic interest in anyone. I can’t even imagine his type. Did he give you any information”?!

“Nah, you know how he is. Yoongi will only let you know what he wants you to know”

“True. What’s going on next week?”

You paused for a second and started chuckling. He was kidding. He had to be.

The smile then fell from your face when he didn’t share in your laughter.

“Oh my god you’re serious? You forgot about my lecture”?!

He gasped and began coughing as the bite of steak he had just put into his mouth had just gone down the wrong pipe.

“Of course not baby, how could I forget something so important to you” he continued to splutter.

You stared back at him. The good mood you had felt a moment ago had completely evaporated. You waited for him to gain his composure so he could explain himself cause boy he had some explaining to do.

“Just for giggles and fun and jokes, what date is your lecture again?”

“The fifteenth” you said, shortly.

His face fell and his eyes stayed stuck on his plate.

“Baby…Please don’t hate me. That’s the night we have the final run through of the soundtrack with the director. I can’t miss that…I’m so s- “

“You’re so sorry. Im sure you are.” You stood up.

You grabbed your purse and you stormed out away from him. You could hear him calling your name but the burn of your throat as you fought back the tears overpowered his calls.

How could he? No, how could you? How could you ever expect anything different. You will always be second to his first love and that was a pain you had to learn to live with.

The moment you left the restaurant and the cold air of the night hit your face you decided to just let the tears fall. You sobbed as you walked further and further away from him.

You heard the rhythmic pounding of laced up docks hitting the pavement behind you.

“Y/N please I’m sorry. Just let me explain…”

“No! There is nothing you could say that would fix this! I have always been there for you! I have supported you from the very beginning! Every piece of music you have ever played for me I have cherished as if it were my own and you used to support me too! At my first presentation you were there. Cheering at the top of your lungs in a silent room. You used to be my number one cheerleader but now when all I ask of you, is to just show up? You can’t do it. And every chance I give you to fix it. You let me down. Jungkook, I need some time away from you. I’m going to be staying with Yoongi for a few days”.

You said nothing more. You spun around and walked the 2 minutes to Yoongi’s apartment. And true to your word you stayed with them till the day before your lecture.

Despite being a creative Jungkook worked like clockwork. Every single day at the same 3 times a day Jungkook would try to call you. The call was always followed by an ‘I love you’ text but today was different. After the second call of the day the text that followed said:

“I know this is such a fucking reach and such a huge ask but would you mind swinging around our apartment today at around 3? Director Anderson would like to speak to you. I know you probably still need your space so I’ll be in the apartment but I’ll be in the bedroom. I’ll come out only when you’ve left, I promise. Please come”

He really had some fucking nerve. That ‘please come’ at the end of his text almost sent your blood boiling.

“You should talk to him,” said a familiar voice.

Your turned your whole body around on the sofa so Yoongi could see your eyes roll at his suggestion.

“Yoongs, I feel like it shouldn’t be me your having this conversation with. You should try telling him not to break commitments to people”

“Oh I have! That’s why I’m telling you, you need to speak to him. I know it’s none of my business but I think you guys just need to talk it out. And even if you don’t have anything to say, at least hear the boy out” he finalised before turning on his heels and heading back into his room.

That wasn’t the speech you were expecting but it did calm you down enough to re-read Jungkook’s text. Your boiling rage had now been replaced with intrigue and curiosity. The meeting was requested by the director of the film? This was very unusual. You had heard about the director in passing but you had never spoken directly before. But you had decided that you were going to go. You we determined to look the man who practically stole your boyfriend for years in the face and lecture him about respecting his colleagues work/life balance! Plus it will be good practice for your lecture tomorrow. Two birds, one stone.

It would be an absolute lie to say that you weren’t missing Jungkook. You knew the apartment would smell like him and you hoped you may be able to swipe one of his t-shirts to sleep in before you leave.

You ubered over to your apartment and stood before the oak front door feeling oddly nervous. To took a shaky breath and inserted the passcode: 5318008 (you and Jungkook were children at heart cause you both laughed for hours after agreeing upon the code).

Upon hearing the beeping of the lock to confirm the door was unlocked you pushed it open. You stepped in, removed your shoes and couldn’t help the solemn smile that crept onto your face. Jungkook’s scent hit you as soon as you entered the room.

God, you missed him.

You strode inside and were met with a recognisable figure sitting upright on your sofa. His back stood tall and his hair was a mousy brown colour. It was so bizarre seeing him here. There was an uncanny feeling, seeing this man you knew but had never met sat in your living room.

He must have felt you staring at him because his head soon whipped around.

“Y/N. So nice to finally meet you.” He stood up and walked over to you shoving his hand out towards you. You shook it hesitantly. His hands were cold and clammy but his eyes were warm. He was tall and chubby but he wasn’t foreboding, in fact he seemed rather friendly Damnit. You wanted him to be an asshole, it would have made telling him what was on your mind so much easier.

“It’s nice to meet you too, Mr Anderson” you said as coldly as you could muster.

“Mr Anderson is so formal, just call me James. Although its strange. We’re meeting for the first time but it feels as if I have already met you” His German accent becoming more apparent as he spoke.

“And why is that?”

“Ah, that is why I asked Jungkook to invite you over. Although it does feel strange extending you an invitation to your home” he chuckled to himself.

He invited you to sit down on the couch, it was only then that you noticed a laptop connected to your TV.

“What’s all this?” you asked. Genuinely curious.

“I have a little something for you to watch. It may make explaining why I asked you hear a little more apparent. Please, have a seat my dear” he guided you to the sofa as you plopped yourself down. Eyes glued to the screen.

You anticipated what would happen next when a familiar tune began to play. You knew it was Jungkook’s composition as soon as you heard it. Suddenly an animated mouse popped up on the screen. She was in the wings of a stage, obviously nervous but she strolled out into the spotlight in front of a stoic audience of other animals. Just as she was about to speak there was suddenly a loud whooping from the crowd that interrupted the slow score. It was a bunny. A bunny with banners and whistles and confetti and he was cheering for her. The others in the audience told him to be quite but he exclaimed ‘That’s my girlfriend’ still as proud as can be.

The trailer played on and you slowly started to get it. It was you. This little mouse was you. Tears welled up in your eyes as yours and Jungkook’s entire relationship began to play in front of you. All your highs and your lows. It was beautiful and the accompaniment of his music made the tears pour from your eyes until it was over.

You turned back to James and attempted to speak but only blubbers could come out.

“Let me explain Y/N. When Jungkook and Namjoon came out to LA to play some stuff for the studio the only thing the boy would speak about, other than music, was you my dear. Jungkook and I sat for hours speaking about you. He told these elaborate stories about how you met, who you are and about the adventures you got into together. It was indeed very fascinating to me, you almost seemed like a heroine in his very own story. He bragged about your achievements almost as if they were his own. According to him, you are the smartest woman on the planet my dear and he would not be told otherwise. Oh, congratulations on the achievement of the decade award! And the youngest recipient at that? Incredible work my dear, just incredible. Jungkook went into great detail about what a huge deal that was. Needless to say the day after the networking event I went home and began writing the script for ‘Mouse & Bunny – Mind & Music’. I had just never seen someone so passionate about another person. His passion for you far outweighs his passion for his craft, that much was apparent, it was awe inspiring and I had to bring It to the screen. I think that is why Jungkook fought so hard to be the lead composer for the soundtrack. He wanted to intertwine the two loves of his life”.

You sat there in complete shock for a moment before jumping into James’s arms and engulfed him into a hug. His moustache tickled your shoulder as he chuckled and said he was happy to have cleared things up. As he packed up his laptop, he was asking you so many questions, probably attempting to confirm the validity of Jungkook’s stories:

“Did you really fight a microwave”

“I most certainly did”

“Did you really use protein powder as flour for a cake?”

“I most certainly did”

“Did you really not know the earth went around the sun?”

“That son of a-… no comment”

He snorted as he packed up the last of his things. You walked him to the door but he turned to you before saying his final goodbyes.

“Y/N, it seems wrong for me to give the final approval for the soundtrack. I’ve heard it and I know it’s the most beautiful accompaniment to the film but it seems only fitting that the muse gets to give the final say so. Take the afternoon to listen to it and pass your notes to Jungkook. If you like it, I’ll approve it. So there should be no need for my originally planned final listen tomorrow. Jungkook seemed like he wanted to attend something much more important tomorrow anyway” He winked at you as he closed your door.

You didn’t even wait for the door to fully shut before you were sprinting to your shared bedroom.

The pitter patter of your bare feet slapping the wood floor could almost not be heard over the beating of your heart. You bust open the door to see the love of your live leaning over his piano.

You must have given him such a fright as his big boba eyes were the first to greet you.

“Y/N I-“

You crashed your lips onto his, completely cutting him off.

“I am the stupidest person in the world.”

Jungkook laughs, standing up beside you.

“No little mouse, why do you say that” he said with a soft smile while he caressed your tear-stained face.

“I don’t know why I didn’t just ask! I’m so- “

“Even if you asked, I probably wouldn’t have told you. I wanted things to be a surprise. But baby, first I needed to apologise, like really apologise”

“You have nothing to be sorry for”

“Yes, I do. Ever since I met you, you brought light into my world. I wanted to express to you my love in the best way I knew how and this project, to me, was the best way for me to put into the world how I felt about you. But I was selfish, I took my expression of love and put it above all the things I knew you had work so hard to achieve. In a way, I put my love above yours and I will forever be sorry and I can assure you, it won’t happen again. I love you Y/N L/N”

You reward his confession with another kiss, pulling him into your arms soon after.

you sighed, almost longingly. “Whatever shall I do with my bunny boy?”

“Whatever shall I do with my little mouse?” Jungkook chuckles, pressing a kiss against the side of your ear, drawing soothing circles on your hip.

He gently placed you down against your mattress. You clung to him and giggled

You stay quiet, appreciating the comfort of Jungkook’s presence.

God, he smelled good.

“Okay,” he purrs, caressing your hip as he repositioned himself more securely. “I get it. My pretty girl must’ve missed me, huh? A week away? It felt more like a lifetime” You nodded in response. Terrified that if you spoke, your voice would fail you.

Jungkook shifted, the hand that was previously on your hip swiftly fell over your thigh instead. “Or should I say my smart girl?” he hums as his hand slipped between your thighs. “My smart, pretty, intimidating girl?”

Your eyes flutter closed and you revel in the feeling of him running his fingers over the front of your panties. Your toes curl at the sudden pressure.

“Ah,” you hissed.

“Hmm?” he says, mouthing against the crook of your neck. His mouth feels so warm, but the trails of saliva he leaves have you shivering. “My smart girl doesn’t have anything smart to say?”

“N-No,” you tried to scoff back, fingernails digging into his skin through his shirt. His hands were getting braver now as he slipped his hand beneath your waistband, and touched your wet heat head on. “Baby.”

Jungkook chuckled at your immediate submission for his touch and took the opportunity to connect his mouth back you yours. You whimpered in surprise, legs trembling as he gets to work circling your hardening bud. Your thighs are squirming, clenching around his hand every few moments.

You bit down a whine. “I was just…” you trailed off as he teased his index and middle fingers against your opening.

“Just what baby? Just thinking?” he said as he finally pushed himself off of you and propped himself up with an elbow beside your head. His gaze became a familiar dark. He moved at a godlike speed as he snatched his hand out from where you had previously trapped him between your legs.

Jungkook pulled away from you and rolled his neck, the joints in his spine cracking as he begins pulling off his shirt. You had to stop yourself from drooling at the sight of him.

He threw his shirt off to the side of the bed, his sleeve of tattoos that wrapped around his bicep and crawled down his chest were wonderfully free now. “My eyes are up here, little mouse” he said and your eyes immediately shot back up to meet his gaze. He leaned towards you, muscled arms coming to cage you in against the headboard.

“No one is looking at your eyes bunny boy” you attempted to quip back. Completely failing to mask the tremor in your voice. Jungkook always had a way of making you feel powerless under his gaze when he was on top of you like this.

His hand grabbed beneath your knee and yanked you unforgivingly until you were slumped down onto your back with a squeak. You settled with his knee pressed directly against your core. Jungkook stayed towering over you.

He placed his hand gently around the base of your neck as he leaned in to properly grind his thigh into you. “Is that right? No one’s looking at my eyes, huh?” he murmured darkly, thumb pressing a little harder into the side of your neck. You sobbed, soaked panties rubbing roughly against his leg.

“Are you gonna touch me?” you interrupted, lower lip trembling at the thought after your desperate rutting. Jungkook pursed his lips together in thought.

“Hmmm,” he hummed. “Not too sure yet.”

You whined. “Jungkook, please,” you whimpered, wrapping your legs around his waist. “I need you.”

Jungkook chuckled, running his hand up your waist and taking your dress with him. He slips his fingers beneath your bra, pushing the wire over your chest as he mouthed at your neck. “Cute,” he cooed. “Can’t do it yourself?”

You trembled, chest heaving into him as he rolled your nipple between his fingers. “I-I can,” you gulped. “You just do it better.” Jungkook followed your admission with a nip against your skin, tongue soothing over it right after. “Why? Because I do everything better than you? Even make you cum better than you?”

You mewled in response, determined not to give him the satisfaction of answering his question. Cause you both new the answer was yes. He made you cum so much better than you could.

“Remove your clothes for me...” he whispered gruffly yet sweet as he pulled himself from you.

You hurriedly removed the rest of your clothes you caught Jungkook’s mouth falling open in awe at the semi-nude sight of you before him. After finally removing your bra and panties, you threw them to the floor with the rest of your clothes, you observed how he licked his lips shamelessly as he took in the view of your beautifully perky nipples that drove him absolutely insane. You looked into his deep eyes, catching your bottom lip in between your teeth and Jungkook couldn’t stop himself from palming his cock over the confinements of his pants – watching you get worked up just for him.

“Are we that type of couple, Jungkook?” you whispered his name sweetly as you slowly climb on top of him. You straddled him, pushing your breasts flush against his chest.

“Which type are you referring to?” he murmured back as his hand moved back to between your thighs – feeling the damp patch of your essence now overflowing. You felt his cock pulsate in anticipation.

“The ones who have an argument, then have angry make up sex?” you giggled as you began pressing soft, delicate kisses along his neck. Jungkook’s eyes shut tightly as he felt your teeth nip at him – causing a breath of air to leave his lungs while you began sucking on his skin – leaving your mark on him. The next thing you knew, Jungkook pulled your mouth away from his neck and flipped you over. He was now hovering over you and began continuing on you what you had started on him

“Jungkook...” you let his name occupy your mouth and your thoughts as he suckled on your skin – alternating between kissing you, biting you and dragging his teeth further south to your boobs.

“Let us see how much of a good girl you can be for me...” you suddenly felt his breath dangerously close to the mound between your legs, before his hands began kneading and gripping at your ass-cheeks. Jungkook moved his face right into you – just shy of his nose touching your folds from behind as he took in your sweet scent. He wanted to devour you whole – but at the same time, he wanted nothing more than to hear you beg and plead for your own pleasure and release. You trembled at the contact of his index finger running along your slippery lips, feeling it hastily stroke your bud before he pulled it back down again – repeating the same action over and over.

Jungkook smirked at the noises coming from you; whimpers of frustration, want and need. He knew you were like putty in his hands with the way your lewd wetness heavily coated his finger; and he would have wanted it no other way.

“Please Jungkook...please stop teasing me – I need you so fucking badly I – “you rolled your head to the opposite side – placing your blazing cheek against the pillow in an attempt to extinguish the apparent fire that was burning your entire face. You knew he was making you wait for it – and you both simultaneously loved and hated it in a hundred different ways.

You breathed a sigh of relief, along with moans of satisfaction as his tongue continued to explore every inch of you. The scandalous sounds from his tongue and his lips filled the room as he continued to consume you.

“I’m so close Jungkook – fuck...” you moaned a string of further curses as he sped up his movements – his finger now wiggling heavily over your clit as his tongue probed you even deeper than before.

“Are you really?” he hummed, slowing his pace as you whined in response. “Hmm...I can’t have you coming undone on me just yet little mouse...where’s the fun in that? Plus, I had to wait a whole week for you to come back. Do you think I would let you cum so quickly?” he grinned coyly as he moved away from you – licking the remainder of you off his lips as you damn near cried out in anger at being denied your orgasm when it was seconds away.

God, he’s such an asshole.

“You can cry and whine all you want...but you’re not getting anything unless I think you deserve it; do you understand me, baby?” he cooed with the heaviest form of sarcasm you had ever heard as he began coating his erection with your wetness – giving himself a few strokes as he smirked and watched you squirm in defeat underneath him. You rolled your eyes to the back of your head, before turning onto your stomach as fast as you could to avoid his arrogant gaze.

As you laid faced away from him, all you could feel was the thick width of his cock resting between your cheeks as Jungkook took it upon himself to slowly grind himself into you – giving him the minimal amount of pleasure and you the maximum amount of excruciating frustration.

“Yes! I understand...please...I’ll do anything, please!” you shamelessly pleaded – hearing the desperation in your own voice as you moved your ass backwards into him. Jungkook chuckled before he began sprinkling light kisses the whole way up your spine – the fleeting feeling of his lips leaving damp patches on your skin being enough to make it feel like he was burning you with desire for more of him.

“Good girl” Jungkook praised you – letting you feel the tip of his cock resting just on top your drenched entrance. And – without warning, he quickly eased himself in as far as he could go; hearing you let out breathy moans and whimpers as he pressed deeper.

“Louder” he commanded as he leaned back – looking down to view his member leave your tight walls – much to both of your displeasures. “I want the entire world to know who’s fucking your pussy like this right now” he slammed back inside you, feeling your slickness engulf him as your screams filled the room.

“That’s it Y/N, that’s my good girl” Jungook growled as he began pounding you into you at an unforgiving pace. You cried and sobbed feeling his cock reach deeper inside you with each time his skin smacked against yours. Jungkook relished in the look of your ass every time it bounced off his lower abdomen as he continued pummelling into you mercilessly – when he saw your hand reach back to try and hold his. Knowing that you needed to feel the security of his grasp, Jungkook leaned over your back and laced his fingers with yours – giving you fast, deep strokes of his cock while you felt it slam against your precious nerves inside you. Jungkook knew you were already on the verge of letting go from the way your voice got louder and higher – along with your walls constricting around his member so tightly that he had to almost hold his breath to not finish before you.

“Cum for me – you earned it sweetheart, let go and let me hear your beautiful voice” he cooed into your ear. And, like his words were the only thing that could set you free, you came hard around him while you closed your eyes tight as you felt your orgasm pour out of you. Jungkook coaxed you through your cries of ecstasy as he slowed his thrusts down – still keeping their depth while his groans harmonised with your own voice in the wake of your pleasure. And, just as quickly as it came, your high left your body – leaving you slumped face down into the pillow with no will to do much else other than breathe. You felt Jungkook slowly slide out of you – feeling the emptiness he left behind while he began pulling you up and back into his chest, his hands then roaming over every inch of your skin he could find.

“Did that feel good, baby?” he purred, nibbling on the bottom of your ear and letting you know that he was still standing to attention with the way his member pressed into your ass. You let out an airy chuckle, still not able to maintain a coherent train of thought.

“Mmhm” you hummed, reaching behind you to let your hand rest on the back of his neck, letting your fingers get lost in his hair as Jungkook dotted your neck with kisses once more.

“I can’t get enough of you – no matter how much you give me, no matter how much I take...” he murmured on top of your skin, making you shiver from head to toe and smile from ear to ear.

“What are you waiting for then, bunny boy?” you replied, turning around to him and coming face to face with his dark hooded eyes. “I want you to take more...take me, Jungkook” you mewled as Jungkook’s hands began caressing all his favourite parts of you – your hips and the tops of your thighs included.

You swapped positions and you positioned yourself on top him. As you did, Jungkook quickly pulled his legs underneath your bottom before crossing them below you, while you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist so that you were both in a sort of Lotus Flower position. You looked down, seeing his head perfectly level with your tits as he began kissing and nipping at your hardened nipples – making you reel from the sensitive sensation that coursed through you. You observed his hand as it slipped underneath you – grabbing a hold of his pulsating member and angling it right before your welcoming entrance once again.

“Baby...aren’t you forgetting something?” you questioned immediately in reference to the fact that he was about to enter you whilst you both found yourself in the most romantic baby-making position known to man. Jungkook shook his head as he looked up into your eyes, his stare completely melting you from the inside out.

“I want to feel you when I cum inside you...I want to make you mine in every way possible...will you let me?” his husky voice travelled to every single part of your soul as you let your mouth hang agape.

“But – what if...you know?” you replied, wondering how he felt about the most obvious thing that could happen from not using protection.

“You have nothing to worry about, Y/N” he whispered softly, feeling himself press against your small opening as the tip of his cock became engulfed by your slick tightness. “’If it happens, it happens. I would want no other woman to mother my children” you both let out an intense moan in turn as he pushed his way inside you. When Jungkook thought about you carrying his first child and bringing the product of your love into the world; with him becoming a father and you becoming a mother, it filled him with delicate feelings of paternal happiness he knew he could never feel with anyone else but you.

You bit your lip hard as you rolled your hips at a rhythmical pace into his – feeling every inch of him curving inside you. Jungkook placed one hand below your bottom, while cradling your back with his free arm as a means to let you set the pace of your love making, but still letting him have full control over your every movement. You felt wave after wave of pleasure strike you as your clit moved flush against Jungkook’s body that was tight against yours; and your moans continued to spill from your lips as he looked up into your face – his eyes full of life and love as he seemingly peered right into your soul. In contrast to Jungkook’s way of asserting himself over you just moments ago, you could see the vulnerability in his eyes as he let his mouth hang open – panting and groaning at the feeling of pleasure from being inside you and so close to you.

“I love you...so much, Jungkook” you managed to speak – feeling your body almost grow limp from having little to no energy left as you felt your sweat drip down your temples. Sensing your exhaustion, Jungkook helped you lay down on your back to the bed – keeping himself still lodged inside you as he rested himself between your legs. His thrusts were slow, deep and meaningful as he pressed his forehead to yours and took your hands in his – pinning them to the bed while he felt your pulse rocket as he pushed you once again to your second orgasm of the evening. You felt like the entire world was spinning as you attempted to moan and writhe in fulfilment – but unfortunately, no sound left your mouth as you produced a silent cry in the wake of Jungkook’s pleasure-filled stokes that reached deeper and deeper within you.

“And I... I love you Y/N” Jungkook’s lips found yours for the millionth time as he felt himself twitch inside of you – his entire seed mixing with your juices as he came deep within you. He tensed every single one of his muscles, letting you swallow each of his moans as he slowed down gently.

“I’m so happy that you’re mine...” he almost whimpered as his movements ceased – before letting himself collapse on top of you, resting his head in the crook of your neck while you raised your arms up and over his back to hug him even closer to you.

“And I’m so happy that you’re mine, too” you kissed the top of his head – still feeling his cock buried inside of you as you couldn’t help but smile to yourself.

Jungkook raised his head a fraction to look at you – his appearance both thoughtful and endearing as he held on to you. “I really am sorry Y/N. I never want you to feel like your aren’t a priority to me” he blinked gently as you continued to listen to his heartfelt, post love making thoughts.

“I know” you replied quietly, tracing the muscles along his back with your fingers. “And I’m sorry too. I guess we both just need to communicate a little better”.

“My Y/N – You are my world. You – you are my everything. I used to not understand what people meant when they said that to someone they loved, because before you – I thought music was my only love. But every day I spend with you, you give me a hundred more reasons to adore you. I promise I will spend the rest of my life trying to prove that.”

You felt yourself well up at his words of endearment. He really was your world and you now knew for a fact that you were his too.

“Ooh, I forgot to say” you interrupted yours and Jungkook post love making silence.

“James said I could approve the soundtrack for our film”

Jungkook smiled to himself upon hearing you refer to it as your film.

“If that’s what James said, who am I to undermine the director.” He declared.

“The songs are on my phone in the Media Folder but im gonna hop in the shower while you listen. Cause it will break my heart if you don’t like them” he chuckled, half joking half serious.

“I know im going to love them babe. But you go and take your shower, I’ll be right here when you come out”.

He left with a smile.

You scrolled through his phone to find the music files and tears began to fill your eyes once again as you read the tracklist:

“I’d fight a microwave for you”

“You smell like home”

“I think you’re pretty and I’m intimidated by you too”

And the list went on. It was his list. His list of your phrases that made him smile. Before you could even finish reading the tracklist, you ran to the shower you embrace your bunny boy and show him for a second round how much you loved him.

Although, if you had taken just a few moments to read the tracklist, Jungkook is sure you would have loved the last song on the soundtrack. It was the only title that wasn’t you contribution, it was his:

12. “I hope she’ll marry me”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hope ya'll enjoyed it! My requests are open, feel free to send em across :)

#jeon jungkook #jeongguk #jungkook #bts fanfic #jeon jungguk #jungkook fic recs #jungkook fic #jeon jeongguk fic #jeongguk x reader #bts jeongkook #jeon jeongguk #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook x y/n #jungkook fanfic #jungkook enemies to lovers au #jungkook established relationship #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut

1K notes · View notes

taegularities · 6 months

Text

colour me in: redraft | jjk (m)

Summary: The calm is more appreciated after a storm. Life with Jungkook proves to you that sometimes, joy can, in fact, overshadow grief. Yet, not without confronting and removing all hurdles standing in your way once and for all.

➳ pairing: Jungkook x reader ➳ rating: 18+ ➳ genre: fwb/f2l, fake dating; some tame angst, sooo much fluff, smut ➳ warnings: new relationshippppp, so much hugging and kissing, yoongi!! tae!!, tears, abandonment issues, talk about social anxiety (just briefly and nothing serious!), jungkook drops a big question :'), a surprise in the middle, a surprise near the end, and then a SURPRISE at the end lol, many surprises, they're so crazy for each other it's gross; explicit sexual content: okay – kook is wearing a chain.. this vibe :'), making out, showering together, shower sex, spanking, biting, oral (f. & m. receiving), fingering, mouth/face f*cking, mirrorssss, he likes her ass and tiddies, tears, choking, v brief ass stuff, rough and soft sex, dom and big cawk jk, vocal jk, multiple orgasms, they're simps; ALSO YEAH THE ENDING :') ➳ word count: 25.3k ➳ a/n: so when i said this chapter would be shorter… welp lol. but i still think it introduces the next arc really well. i kinda love the ending!! .. and the next part will be </3 :'''') as always beta'd by my lovely @missgeniality 🤍 i hope you guys like this one a lot. worked my ass off for this fr :') if you do, please do support the chapter and interact with me, too, it makes my day <3 ➳ listen to: i need u by yaeow | full collaborative playlist 🤍

SERIES MASTERPOST | TAGLIST MASTERLIST | WIPs | DC SERVER

Monday morning’s breakfast is awkward. Or at least, the very first minute of it.

The hands of your watch drift to 9 AM; you should’ve expected you wouldn’t be occupying the dining table alone. Your parents, sipping the last of their coffee, aren’t that much of a surprise after all.

You breathe a quiet breath of relief when their eyes dart towards your timid forms at the threshold, then back to the table. And a moment later, they’re pushing their chairs back across the marble floor before they clear the path to breakfast for the two of you.

Your father acknowledges you with a brief, polite nod on his way out, even flashing a similarly quick smile. Ingenuine, because his glance, fleeting when directed to you, is as disappointed as your Mom’s behind him.

Today, you understand. Somewhere in the depths of your recovering mind, you feel upset about shitfacing yourself so thoroughly, too.

You haven’t seen your mother in over two days. Jungkook’s post-showcase confessions brought you to Eun, and the next morning you barely scanned your room before you left for her place again.

Guess the momentary encounter in the hallway doesn’t quite count; you could hardly crack your eyes open. Combined with half the dozen naps you took in your locked room the very next day, you won’t exactly expect pride from her right now.

Until now, as she advances towards your body, you didn’t consider much of her side; you stayed focused on the other occurrences passing after sunset. Moments whose scent your sheets still carry.

As your mother comes to a stand, you prepare your vocal cords, breathing in to explain yourself until you realise that she isn’t looking at you at all. Her eyes are firmly glued to Jungkook’s face, devoid of enmity for once.

Instead, she flattens her dress, sighing through her red-tinted lips before she nods towards him and simply says, “Thank you.”

And that’s it. A little breathtaking, entirely new.

You’re dumbfounded when she leaves; Jungkook doesn’t manage a single word. You imagine that if you’re baffled, he’s probably rethinking her words to assure he didn’t hallucinate them.

But neither of you did. And the silence lingering for a couple more seconds proves the depth of reality; not that you’ll change your mind about leaving your place. But the hint of appreciation, shot directly at him is a pleasant first nevertheless.

Breakfast is patient but fast. The quiet atmosphere doesn’t derive from the night before or what your mother just left you with, but from the emotional fatigue slowly dropping off your shoulders.

Jungkook lets you feast in peace, a soft palm rubbing over the back of your hand every now and then to assure you’re okay. And you are. You’re getting used to these changes.

To this alternative to whatever you feared before. A chance to erase all words and start on a blank page; a white canvas, waiting for vibrant colours instead of monochrome gloom.

Yet, despite the tranquillity last night, still present in the air and in your aching limbs, you don’t understand the sincerity of all the confessions he uttered until you leave.

Because breathing in your car isn’t as suffocating as it was the last few weeks. Back when you’d navigate through the town alone, the passenger seat empty. Or when you plucked up the courage and drove to the showcase numbly.

Or when the pain pierced through your chest; when your drunk ass thought the world would remain blue forever.

All of it is gone when you buckle up, shifting in your seat as you announce, “Okay. Let’s finally get you home.”

The engine roars for a moment, the car trembling, but you only register the knot in your throat when he says, “Feels so unfair of me. Having my girl drive me around so much.”

You don’t miss the endearment; neither the way your heart skips a beat.

Incapable of a proper reaction, you clear your throat and stutter, all at once and oddly in succession until you settle on a weak, “Why unfair?”

“Because. You do it a lot.”

You really do not. The night the museum closed and you dropped him off at your place was one of a few times; besides, he’s operated your vehicle more than enough before, too.

But you don’t contradict him, instead lightly suggest, “Well, you can drive if you want.”

You’re relieved when he joins your smile, dimples ever-so-sweet and genuine as he promises, “It’s fine. I’ll just stare at you.”

The shudder along your spine is delightful — relentless, he keeps your nerves alight. Perhaps he’s back to the self you knew pre-broken-hearts, playful and teasing, but the effect of his words curses through your veins hotter than ever.

“That’s creepy,” you still retort; you’ll gladly keep fighting this sweet, awkward battle against compliments for life, unaware how to handle them. “And it makes me nervous.”

“Sorry.”

Jungkook laughs, the back of two fingers reaching to your cheek to graze it featherlightly. Maybe he feels the heat beneath your skin, enhanced through his touch.

By now, you’ve spent a year with him — as a party fling, a class frenemy and a blue flower. But each second ticking away brings a new wave of soft, shy speechlessness. New honeymoon emotions.

The certainty of his reciprocated feelings, the fact that you’re finally on the same page, makes you rethink his tender confessions and touches differently. Makes you navigate the relationship differently.

His eyes drift back to the quiet, narrow street, surrounded by houses and blooming gardens. Probably as tired of the idyllic utopia as you, he doesn’t spare the suburban setting any more attention.

He only lets a flat hand rub against his thighs, nipping at his clothing as he says, “God, I can’t wait to get out of these damn joggers.”

Right. While not a main focus, you did find the special attire at breakfast today quite amusing.

“Did you even get to shower since picking me up?” you ask.

“Yeah. When you were napping again yesterday. Just gotta wash my hair later tonight.”

Hmm. You spent half your day knocked out; Jungkook could’ve circled the world and you wouldn’t have known.

“Oh. Good.”

The road proceeds straight, emptier near the suburbs. You allow a reckless glance before tackling busy streets; his eyes meet yours in curiosity, hair even messier than the night he met you in front of the bar.

When he left his apartment in joggers and an old shirt, mane untamed and no extra clothing at hand, he probably didn’t expect to abandon his place for so long. It gives you solace that he doesn’t regret it.

You drop the million memories of yesterday’s sunset burning into your eyes and everything that introduced it. The drunk words and the begging.

And then drop everything that followed afterwards; more pleading, more touching, more confessions that were in no way uttered through inebriate but not quite through sobriety either.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks.

You drop all the remembrances to focus on the moment; just to make sure that it’s real. So you ask, “Why didn’t you wash your hair there, too?”

For a moment, you see a flicker in his eyes, short-lived and quick; and his answer shoots out even more rapidly, “Just so.”

He emphasises his admission with a shrug of his shoulder, but it’s not nearly as convincing as he anticipates. Not buying a word, you push again, “C’mon.”

“I swear.”

“I’m curious now, though.”

There’s a momentary drop of silence before Jungkook hums, thinking as though he’s crafting a plausible excuse. Then, he says, “I didn’t wanna be away for too long.”

“…Why?”

“Why would I want to be?”

Ah…

Hmm. Well, maybe that’s enough for now.

Maybe he’s still not used to laying his secrets open. Maybe you need to practise patience, too, and stop digging like that.

You know that’s not all there is, but you certainly understand that it’s not a lie after all. Despite the pause and the obvious way his brain racked for a reason, his tone is genuine. You’ve experienced his insecurities before — that’s not what it was this time.

So you focus on the steering wheel instead, turning it left and away from the truck you drove way too close to. Your distraction might kill you — right there, next to you, clearing his throat and sitting up.

“Oh,” he says, segueing, and you let him, “wait, I forgot. Could we stop by at Yoongi’s for a sec? I wanted to see how he’s been doing.”

An abrupt change in topics, but not too abstract. As someone merely acquainted with the man, you’ve been collecting info on his state from Jimin; of course Jungkook would drop by personally.

You take a look at your digital watch; it’s barely ten and you don’t need to get away before 10:45. Taehyung agreed to meet with you to accompany you to your new potential flat again, so you should have time for a detour.

But.

“Is he…” you start, “gonna be okay with me being there?”

“Why?”

“I mean, just ‘cause… You know. We weren’t the closest for a while.”

Jungkook’s forehead wrinkles in new perplexion, muttering a few words. It takes a couple seconds — but eventually, he figures out that you’re not referring to Yoongi and yourself, and his expression changes immediately.

To subtle pain, you’d guess, like he doesn’t want to relive the memory. Like it never happened; like you weren’t two pieces of the same shattered heart this entire time.

But then he sighs, a hand wandering to your thigh. He kneads it softly, as a reminder to himself and to you that the past isn’t transpiring right now; that you’ve finally breathed and waded through it.

His optimism is encouraging when he says, “Nah. He thinks you’re cool.”

“I guess,” you mumble. You tap the steering wheel nervously, lips in a thin line before you add a hushed, “And if not, that’s alright, isn’t it? Like, hey, as long as you like me? Yeah, I shouldn’t overthink it…”

Jungkook releases air through his nose. You perceive a subtle shake of his head, as if to scold you, hear him say earnestly but gently, “Don’t worry about me. I don’t just like you.”

And whether casual or not, his words engulf your body immediately, like a soothing warm touch across your chest, yet effectively freezing your beating heart in place.

You can’t pinpoint whether the weight of his own words ever affects him as much as it affects you, or whether harbouring these emotions has become a familiar habit to him. At least to you, his tone is conversational and promising, perhaps even subliminally reassuring.

“At the very least,” he continues, “he’ll never disapprove of you the way Jimin disapproves of me.”

Which… snaps you back into reality for a second.

Your friend’s name is connected to more than mere dislike for the man next to you; currently, you think of dark nights and lamp-lit streets. After-midnight shenanigans and near tears in your own car, driven by the man who broke and mended your heart.

It reminds you of a blurry picture; two guys standing near an entrance, the older of them patting the other’s shoulder; smiling at him.

You do wonder if it was a fabrication of your mind.

“Forget Jimin,” you tell Jungkook, speech broken when you take another left and resumed when broader streets start. “Also. He did say he’s growing fond of you.”

“Because you like me. I still need to prove my worth to him.”

You tut.

“Kook, you don’t need to do anything. He’ll come around eventually. Just be you.”

“It’s fine, honestly.” He leans in, nudging your elbow, echoing you with a teasing undertone as he says, “As long as you like me.”

You love it when the initial nature of your relationship breaks through the mist of newfound passion; when you find the foundation of what you were, remembering how you landed here.

Which is why you bite back a laugh the moment you suppress a sassy, teasing remark, as if on reflex. One steer shy from pulling into a parking lot, you breathe out. If you halted here now, you’d kiss him, you’re sure.

But you merely laugh, squinting your eyes as you say, “You’re okay.”

Yoongi’s apartment, now inhabited by only one instead of two people, lies a couple miles from the campus. Jungkook guides you through the streets, jumping from one harmless topic to another — you reach his friend’s place a lot faster than you expected.

The building stands at a quiet place, surrounded by mid-high trees that give the grey colour of the complex a bit of liveliness. You walk to the entrance laughing about something stupid, a subtle nudge of his shoulder here, you pushing against his arm there.

But despite the familiarity and whatever occurred last weekend, it’s still odd jumping into the girlfriend role just yet. The word itself won’t even roll off your tongue very easily so far because you can’t believe a thing about this new reality.

So your hand dangles next to his awkwardly. Your thoughts keep drifting, registering half his sentence at times. What-if situations of gentle kisses and upcoming nights spent together tighten your chest.

Jungkook’s speech is clear and fluent, so you don’t know what your impact on him is exactly. At least he’s made sure you do have one on him — but you still wish you had a map through his mind to understand every thought he houses for you. Every emotion.

On the way up you feel a little dizzy; whether it’s due to the circular shape of the staircase or his proximity, you don’t know. You only realise that something’s still bothering you when you’re halfway up, coming to a halt with one foot on the next step.

“Okay, seriously,” you say, and he turns to you immediately, puzzled as he drops to the same level as you. Close to you.

“What?”

“You said you didn’t wanna leave,” you repeat, still stuck on the hair washing and staying longer thought, “why not?”

The answer could be simple. Could be rooted in emotions and the confessions you later uttered — but there must be something more. You saw it in the brief feeling flashing across his eyes, sitting in the passenger’s seat with silence sealing his lips.

Maybe something happened… because something always happens.

“You’re still thinking about that?” Jungkook questions, eyes wide in disbelief; lips pouting.

“No secrets, right?”

This seems to snap him out of all mysteries, last night’s conversation travelling to the forefront of his mind. But something about your curiosity amuses him. He wraps the fingers of his left hand around the staircase reeling, head dropping with a delicate smile.

His hair hides his eyes, but you know they’re sparkling; voice a mild drizzle when he starts, “It’s…” He draws in, inked digits touching your elbow before moving up your arm absentmindedly. “Don’t worry so much. It’s nothing harmful at all.”

You wait. Let his thumb graze your neck, up to your chin.

He sighs, almost exasperated in a way. “You speak in your sleep, you know?”

Wait. What?

You blink, thoughts disoriented. The staircase is dimly lit, but you recognise the slight upward curve of his lips; more empathetic than teasing.

So you still do?

“Huh?” you make.

“I think you dreamed of waking up a couple times? You hadn’t, though, and it’d always be something about being alone again.”

Again.

The word reverberates through your mind, dragging and stretching. Didn’t you once read that a broken heart is akin to serious rehab, accompanied by withdrawal symptoms and slowly healing scars?

You guess your heart was hurting more than you already knew.

“Okay,” you say, nodding when he does, thumb lifting your head when you drop it. You swallow thickly. “What did I say exactly?”

He shrugs one shoulder. “I don’t know anymore. Something about me leaving. And I was scared of waking you up while gone ‘cause you’d actually think I’d left.”

You hum. Allow yourself a moment to process the info; you seek out fragments of your dreams, but you draw a blank. You feel guilty about his concerns, yet relieved. Vulnerable. And somewhat reassured.

“I’m sorry,” you finally say.

Your voice is barely above a whisper — less because of the conversation. More because of the touch on your cheek. It’s soft against your skin, and you shiver. The flutter in your chest is only just bearable.

That’s the thing about falling in love. It’s sweet — so much sometimes that it twists your guts. You’re in so deep, you could hurl.

“Nah. You don’t need to worry about this anymore, okay?” he murmurs.

His eyes dig into yours. Dark and shiny through his healthy tresses, livelier than ever. Sincere.

You, on the other hand, must look unconvinced without intending to, because his mouth aligns with yours soon after.

He exhales, tilting his head, and says, “Look,” leans in, leaves a featherlight kiss against your cheek, right next to his thumb, “I mean it.”

Guess being with him comes with occasional mental blackouts. And regular arrhythmia. The palpitations behind your ribs are almost ridiculous; instead of gripping your own chest, you grasp his shirt immediately.

Lightly, as if you could collapse without this anchor.

He lets you pull him closer just a little, whispering as if someone could hear, “What’s wrong?”

Vulnerability hidden, you blink again, and joke, “Nothing. Just thought you were gonna kiss me.”

Jungkook smiles. His nose brushes against yours, toying a bit, and his bunny teeth make him look somewhat younger when he voices, “You want me to kiss you?”

“I always do.”

Your grin is playful, but your heart is pounding in your chest. Who would’ve thought the journey from a car to an apartment could be so long, so thrilling?

His snicker is gentle and canorous, knees careful against yours. Your heartbeat accelerates some more, rose-tinted lips opting towards their goal. You part your mouth, ready with a deep breath.

But the two of you are always subject to disturbances — so you’re disappointed but not surprised when you hear rushed steps on top of the staircase, strolling down and crossing your path just when Jungkook backs away.

The stranger passes by you with initial surprise in his eyes, not expecting you, but soon gets over it and drops his gaze again. And once he’s gone, Jungkook winks, a hand on your back pushing you forward gently.

“Later,” he says.

You know as you ascend the stairs.

Know that with the ease with which you handle your feelings for each other, you’ll strive towards a future where you won’t be haunted by dreams of being alone. Where you won’t fear his departure, and where his kisses won’t be interrupted by this cruel world.

The building reminds you of when you’d frequent the dorm you used to know. The walls and hallways are similarly built, narrow and somewhat cheap. They look like most buildings from the inside do, honestly, but you like the pleasant illusion the nostalgia brings.

Even the bathrooms are located near the end of the hallways; Jungkook once told you that Tae and Yoongi have their own kitchen, unlike him back when he still housed his dorm. But there’s a communal bathroom here, too; allegedly one reason why Tae moved out.

The only thing that separates this place from Jungkook’s old dorm is the subtle difference in scent. Not pure testosterone.

You smile.

The mood doesn’t match with what you felt back in June at all.

Back when you stomped to Jungkook’s dorm, furious about yet another insignificant issue, you didn’t think your fingers would ever be brushing his like they are now. Or when you escaped the rain and entered the building’s warmth, your umbrella leaving behind a trail of raindrops.

Your relationships, your priorities, your emotions. Your universe changed faster than the seasons.

As you walk past a random door, Jungkook cranes his neck, staring as if he could x-ray-glare a hole into it and glance at what lays behind it. Perhaps he’s thinking back, too.

You don’t know about all the things he experienced throughout the years there. Part of your heart stings because you remember you weren’t the only girl who ever frequented his place.

But you still left an impression — if the current status of your relationship isn’t proof of it, then the sudden touch along the back of your hand certainly is. A thumb following a vein blindly, opting to grasp your palm into his, yet retracting when you finally come to a stand.

The digit caressing your skin lifts to the door, and his knuckles knock three times, rhythmically. Your chest constricts as you jump back into the moment, probably half as nervous as you’d be if you met Jungkook’s parents.

A moment stretches as you wait for Yoongi to open, allowing yourself just another spiralling thought as you imagine actually daring a meeting with Jungkook’s parents. It’s too early to think about it, isn’t it?

It’s just.

Since yesterday, you’ve created a dozen different scenarios in your head, ranging from a civil, calm conversation with his father to a full snap. Half of you wants to know his genuine thoughts on his son’s sorrows; the other half wants to rage and then bolt away.

Ugh.

When the door swings open, your hand flashes to Jungkook’s. A startled instinct, even though nothing about the action was surprising or scary. But he doesn’t mind — of course he doesn’t.

His eyes rush to yours for a second, warm and somewhat thrilled, his smile permanent. And then he looks back at his friend, quietly squeezing your palm, the shy smile soft as he greets, “You’re walking without clutches, huh?”

Yoongi doesn’t respond right away. He looks from Jungkook to you and back. His gaze isn’t very telling, but you find amusement in it. If you weren’t so ridiculously and inexplicably nervous about his upcoming statement, you’d laugh.

Intently, he grants a peek at your entwined hands, and when he looks at the two of you again, he starts…

Smiling.

Gummies all out, a tiny laugh thrown in between before he says, “Ohoho. You’re here, too?”

The smile turns into a sly grin, a hand clutching the frame of the door. You guess he’s not as balanced after all. Possibly just abandoned his clutches for the short way from the couch to the door.

“I can totally go,” you tell him, the teasing tone missing; soft and small instead.

“Why in the world would you?” Yoongi steps aside carefully, nodding the two of you inside. You oblige, hearing his voice behind you jest, “Now, would you look at that. Did I do that?”

Jungkook automatically drops on the chair at the tiny dining table, like he’s arrived home, and you follow; make yourself comfortable on the seat next to him. There are three chairs, as though carefully chosen for the pair of friends who used to live together and a guest.

Next to you, Jungkook huffs, leaning back as he watches his friend plop onto the chair in front of him, and asks, “How would you’ve done that?”

“Well, you guys gathered at the hospital because of me.”

Right. Good point.

If he just knew how that night played out. Actually, you think he just might, yet not quite aware of its severity.

“Not because of you,” Jungkook promises, “I just charmed her again.”

You laugh. So does Yoongi.

He isn’t irritated or taken aback by the younger’s boldness; in truth, he seems entertained. Arms crossed, eyes small and grin wide. He half mocks, “The young ones are charming for sure these days.”

“Spoken like a true Grandpa,” Jungkook remarks. You press your lips into a thin line, but with a faint smile. You only listen; you’re in the territory of two friends who spend their time roasting each other. You’re not on that level yet, so you observe. “But I had to.”

“You had to, huh?” you joke. Okay, observation broken. Your body tilts towards him. “You didn’t need any of your charm for… this. But still good to know.”

Because you would’ve been putty in his hands, no matter what — charm or not.

"Can confirm," Yoongi agrees, nodding towards his friend, "that he was also a proper mess the last couple weeks. Very out of character."

Your eyes roll to the side to catch a glimpse of him, but the moment you detect the rosy dust on Jungkook's cheeks, you avert your gaze immediately.

Admittedly, the guilt in the middle of your chest is undeniable. But there's comfort in knowing you were never the only half who was deeply, perpetually falling.

Yoongi scratches his temple, doesn't meet your eyes; possibly shy when it comes to conversations like these. But he sounds warm and gentle when he says, "I'm really glad you guys are back."

You’re similarly timid, feeling strange. As if someone’s congratulating you on a fresh marriage. Or maybe that’s just the emotion you want, need to feel.

You say, “Thanks.” And then, ever-so-terrible with compliments, add a little, “Let’s say it was you. Double thank you to the man of the hour.”

Yoongi pulls a grimace hitherto unseen; it doesn’t faze Jungkook, but the Joker-esque grin and wide-eyed nod have you bursting into laughter. His friends are pleasant, you think.

If there was a way to lure Jimin in and convince him of this group’s collective appeal, you wouldn’t hesitate. There’s only a limited time you want him to play the petty, protective friend.

“So, how have you been?” Jungkook eventually asks.

Yoongi rubs the corner of his eye, stretching his injured leg under the table, “Never better. The bank is surviving without me. Besides, I haven’t gotten around to making some music in a while.”

“Tae did tell me you were enjoying your days off.”

Jungkook reacts with a tiny chuckle, but your eyes widen. You let him finish his sentence, and then spit, “Wait, wait. You make music?”

“Oh, I mean… I’m not any good,” he explains, wiggling a hand, a little startled as if he forgot you didn’t know yet. “I just. Make a few beats every now and then and write my own bars and stuff.”

“Wait, rap?” You stare between the boys, to and fro, only a little offended that you didn’t know you had a brooding future musician in your midst. “Can I hea—”

“No.” The answer is immediate. You pout. “Before you ask, I am way too much of a coward.”

“He’s amazing,” Jungkook intrudes.

And you whine, “Unfair, Yoongi.”

He imitates your expression, leaning back, copying your stance, and answers in the same childlike tone, “Warm up to me first! I’ll show it to you one day.”

“One day I’m gon’st hear it,” you declare, overly dramatic with your chin up, “you have my taste in music, you know? I know I’ll like it.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

“I can try.”

Yoongi blows a raspberry. You’re not sure what you expected; maybe subtle hostility. But the sense of casual camaraderie is refreshing; lounging comfortably in his living room was a picture far from your mind until now, and you think he enjoys the unforeseen gathering, too.

Because after a moment of stillness, a faint smile touches his lips, his voice back to normal and deep as he remarks, “It’s nice that you guys came. I get bored here a lot.”

Right. You kept wondering.

You don’t dive into the matter immediately, instead drenching your voice in a teasing lilt, “Even though Jimin visits you?”

“Shut up.” Mock exasperation rolls his eyes as Jungkook appreciates your joke, one foot pressing against yours under the table. “No. It’s just been lonely since Tae moved out. It’s a two people thing with two bedrooms.”

He shrugs his shoulders, attention fully on you. Jungkook either doesn’t have much to say or doesn’t want to interrupt. Only listens.

“Living here alone feels like I’m wasting space and money,” Yoongi finishes.

Curiosity piqued, you probe, “What did Tae say when he left?”

“He offered to let me move in with him. But that’d be pointless.”

“Why so?”

“He’s awesome for offering, but I think he wanted his own place, you know? Why would I intrude then? But I did tell him I’d look for another place.”

“Have you been?” you ask. You still remember how happy Taehyung looked last time you met him alone.

How he spoke so highly of a life on his own, gladly interrupted by the occasional visits Eun granted him. Yoongi, you think, would probably benefit from acquiring his own place, too — one that doesn’t remind him that someone left him behind, inhabiting a vacant space thought for two.

“Every now and then,” Yoongi admits. “Will think about it some more once my leg’s healed.”

You nod in understanding, a thoughtful hum escaping your lips. Yoongi soon leans forward, naked arms on top of the table, and delves into a discussion about the rising costs of rent.

He outlines the challenges of finding the right place in the bustling city, and explains his worries about the empty space in a too-large apartment. And you listen intently.

But as minutes pass, you can’t help but notice the contemplative silence Jungkook has fallen into.

It’s always the same with him — thoughts you can’t read, questions you need to postpone.

Because you do glance over at him, observe the distracted furrow of his brow, the distant look in his eyes. You understand he’s once again lost in unknown thoughts, and you sense how jumbled his mind must be.

But you still decide to hold off for the moment, out of respect for the ongoing conversation. You don’t focus on addressing his apparent preoccupation until it keeps going until later, way after you’ve bid Yoongi goodbye.

“Why do you seem so reserved?” you ask in the car, his home your new destination.

It must be around quarter past ten; you should still be able to meet Tae within half an hour. Yet, despite the brooding rush, you can’t help but wanna drag out the ride, finish this conversation.

“Hm?” he voices.

Did he not hear you? Maybe.

You sigh, seeking an available parking spot. You’ve already turned into his street, way past the park, halting close to his entrance. The engine dies, sudden silence inside the vehicle.

“Okay,” you turn towards him, forearm against the wheel. “You’re a lot less enthusiastic now. What’s up?”

He looks distracted. Drags his teeth over his full, pink lower lip hard enough for you to repeat, “Hey. What’s wrong?”

“Uh.” Cue big boba eyes flitting to you. “I was just. Thinking about something.”

“Wanna share?”

“Yeah. Yeah, uhm. I swear I’m not trying to be mysterious, just. Not sure how to phrase it.”

He’s easing himself into this whole thing. The entire opening up act and being fearless with his feelings. So you don’t push him, but encourage, “Try. If not now, then maybe later, though?”

“No, no. Now is fine.” He frees his eyes off the dark bangs when he shakes his head a little, preparing to voice his hidden thoughts. Then, he breathes, “Yeah, so…”

One more second.

And.

“What if you dropped your plans of moving into that apartment?”

Oh. What?

Does he mean what you think he means…

There are only two options, right? And you choose to go with the one that would embarrass you less if it turned out wrong.

“Should I… do you think I should stay with my family?” you ask, your voice cautious.

But when his hands shoot up, immediately denying your assumption with round eyes, you breathe out through your nose. Relieved when he clarifies, “No, not at all. I mean, it’s up to you, but that’s not what I meant.”

So then…

“So you’re saying—”

He interrupts, rushing before he can back down, “Move in with me. And Yoongi could take the apartment you were considering.”

Fuck.

You didn’t expect your heart to jump up to your throat like that. It’s a day full of brief heart failures. You barely know how to react anymore.

You stare. Then stare a bit more. And eventually, you simply ask, “Really?”

“Yeah, I mean…” He gulps, averting your gaze all of a sudden before it lands back on yours. You chuckle quietly, unprompted, and it boosts his confidence. “You stayed at mine for days and it worked. It could… you know— keep working.”

The suggestion lingers like a fresh breeze, grazing your cheeks and twirling around you like a soothing force. He beams — though subtle, he seems to interpret the simultaneous rise of your eyebrows and your lips immediately.

Still, he inquires, “I don’t know… too soon?”

Technically yes. But then again, no. Because he’s right — you’ve already experienced a piece of heaven, tasted the bliss of domesticity with Jeon Jungkook.

“You really are serious about this, yeah?”

“Only if you want me to be,” he counters, less tense than before, but a hand rubbing in nervous circles over his knee, “if not, then I was absolutely joking.”

An awkward, little chortle fills the small space of the car; you shake your head, teeth out and smile bright. There’s sweetness in knowing that his affection is real. That the thought of shared future pains, joys and days — that it’s all actually become so unbelievably real.

The car is cool in the shadow, but you feel a strange heat coursing through your body. At the end of the street, you see the sunlight brighten the moment he laughs. Fitting.

The crinkly eye smile softens when he reaches for your hand, pulling it off the wheel and wrapping it in his. There’s an automatic reaction in your chest, a constant racing when he says, “I mean it, though.”

Brief pause. He looks down to your fingers.

“I think I got used to having you there. And then, at Yoongi’s I had this… I don’t know, overwhelming urge to tell you. That,” his teeth worry his lip, releasing it softly, “I want you next to me for as long as possible.”

You understand.

He means every minute that society and norms don’t force you out of the house. At nights and in the mornings, on off days and holidays. To fall asleep next to his presence, to wake up on the same mattress, too.

And the longing is undeniable; you know that it is. But you’re already swamped with decisions as it is — could you call off the apartment right here, right now? Rethink all you discussed with the landlord, Taehyung or yourself?

Life decisions are harder than that, and despite all the wants infiltrating your body, you can’t dive into this without a couple more following thoughts.

You keep gazing into his smouldering eyes, more intense when he looks up. Let their effect send a thrill down your spin, a surge of yearning through your veins.

And then, you acknowledge the need for prudence. You savour the moment, let the anticipation built, and flash a sultry smile to ensure that, yes, if not now, then one damn day, I’ll be yours entirely.

“I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything to work more than this,” you admit, “but I need to—”

You halt. Words come hard to you these days; and the two of you are sensitive. It’s not easy to reunite after weeks of overthinking and distance; and you don’t want to provide more reasons to overthink.

But you forget that as sensitive as Jungkook is, he’s just as understanding and gentle, too.

Because he says, “You need to think. And I know you can’t just pack your things and move over, I just— I wanted it out there.”

“I know. I know.”

“And I,” he continues, “I actually thought you were gonna say no right away since you’re getting out of your childhood home just now, so naturally, you would wanna be alone for a while and—”

You lean forward, pulling your hands out of his grip. His eyes shoot down, baffled and confused, but you don’t give him a second to think or speak. In a moment’s notice, his cheeks are squished between your palms, his bunny face now akin to a duck.

“I don’t want to be alone. I’ve been alone all my life,” you tell him; Jungkook eyebrows furrow in empathy and worry, but you smile, “I don’t wanna be anymore.”

His expression and voice are dorky when he speaks, first words incomprehensible. You let go, watching the red splotches on his cheek, and he repeats, “Is that a yes?”

“It’s… I don’t know. A to be continued.”

“I’ll live with that.”

You don’t know if it’s the electrifying prospect of a life together or the confidence he follows his statement up with, but the insanity burns wild in your head. Untamed and dizzying.

“And I’ll wait for however long.”

“I didn’t even ask, I’m sorry… but are you starting work later today?”

You stand in the middle of Taehyung’s living room, a hand over your eyes to protect them from the bright sunlight. He’s busy piling the saucers and the cups, and you wait as he drags a vocal in thought.

“No, no. I’m off today.” He stands, and you automatically walk the short distance to the kitchen, lingering at the door frame. “Need the afternoon for an appointment at the doc. So yeah.”

“Oh. Everything okay?”

He doesn’t speak yet, dishes in the wash basin too loud. They clink and rattle; the moment you’ll move to an apartment by yourself, you’ll have to wash them yourself, too.

Maybe you can make your place as aesthetically pleasing and beige as Taehyung did. You don’t know — you couldn’t imagine much today nor discuss further details about the contract and rent and general house rules.

The landlord bailed on you last second. And Taehyung sacrificed over an hour that he could’ve spent keeping Eun company between her morning lessons.

You apologised the second you entered his apartment instead, thankful for the invitation to tea, yet harbouring guilt for wasting his time. But Taehyung proved incredibly kind, waving off your concerns immediately.

He asked, playfully offended, “So you’re saying a tea party with me is a waste of time?” And then he laughed, immediately shaking his head, “Nah. It’s fine. Am glad someone finally prefers tea over coffee, too.”

So now you’re here.

“Yeah, just a check up,” Taehyung answers, “vamps drew my blood and will tell me today if it’s good or not.”

“Interesting way to refer to doctors,” you admit, backing away when he leads you to the exit. You need to be at work in forty minutes tops. “Good then.”

He hands you your blazer, silent for a moment before he says, “Talking about feeling unwell.” You look up, arm halfway through the blazer’s sleeve. “What were you doing getting shitfaced like that?”

“Uhm…”

Word travels fast. Your cheeks heat up, fingers curling into fists. You smack your lips, letting out a tiny laugh, and ask, “Eun told you, huh?”

“Mhm. Scolded her for taking you to the bar and leaving you alone.”

You sigh.

You should’ve guessed that she’d tattle. And of course you might appear like the helpless, heartbroken girl, seeking comfort in alcohol, dark clubs and blue neon lights. It’s a little embarrassing, actually.

“Kook was there, though,” you defend.

“I know. I called when he was still at your place.”

Huh? What else did he do when you were asleep? Painted a Louvre-ripe masterpiece, probably.

Taehyung decodes the dozen questions in your stare, tumbling until his back leans against the wall. He explains, “We just talked for a sec. He sounded worried, so I didn’t prod too much. Just don’t do these things anymore, okay?”

Huh…

You can imagine it well. Partly because you remember the way he looked at you that night: distressed beyond belief, giving you soft orders, insisting on help everywhere — the car, the shower, the bed.

But also because you know him.

And you don’t think you needed to see him in those very moments to know he must’ve brushed through his silky hair. Must’ve looked through your room, gaze stopping over your sleeping figure.

Voice strained on the phone, yawning, shaking his head because he must have been a little mad at you, but comforted that you were resting, too.

You remember the tone of his voice, soft as a piano tune but saddened nonetheless.

”What did you drink? You’re… in such a bad state.”

You shake the words off. God, he was there for you more than you’ll ever know.

You say, “That’s nice, though, Tae… I didn’t think you’d ever get so worried about me.”

“Hey. You’re still my friend,” he promises.

He’s possibly been the only person throughout this entire ordeal to not be pissed at you or annoyed by you. You never doubted that he still liked you.

“I might not know you inside out like Eun or Jungkook do, but you’re part of this group. So naturally, you’re important, too.”

You push your hands into the pockets of the blazer, gripping the car keys inside. Bashfully, you smile. His sincerity pumps warmth through you; it’s crazy how good belonging somewhere, to someone, can actually feel.

It’s refreshing. New.

“Wow,” you murmur, shuffling your feet, “thank you.”

“You’re glowing, you know. That’s nice.”

“Am I?”

He nods. “I can’t wait to see him glow either. A couple weeks were a couple too long.”

Those couple weeks felt like someone ripped out the hands of time, keeping them from moving. Your brain aged faster in that time, deep in a bottomless abyss. You don’t want to experience it again.

And you don’t want to imagine Jungkook in the same pit again. Looking for you, but bumping against walls, painted with his past that made him stumble back instead of pulling him forwards.

Your eyes trail down the hallway, looking at the small paintings and decorations on the wall. You take in the furniture, inhale the pleasant colours. Imagine his living room in its entirety, the sunlight seeping through the windows. Curtains pushed aside.

Your apartment could be like this, too.

But.

“Tae,” you begin. You wrap your fingers around your rattling car key; lick your lips. “Do you think I’d like it here?”

“Hmmm,” he voices, gazing down as if he could look past the parquet floor and to where your potential apartment stands nearly empty. “Yeah. I mean, I like to think so, because I’m very happy here.”

He stops abruptly, the tone of the last syllable not matching a sentence’s end. You wait as he smiles a little, creating a thought, “But you could be happy somewhere else, too. Happier even.”

His words hang in the air, a sense of both possibility and uncertainty tangible. You were wanting to venture into this new chapter of your life with hope, but also with trepidation.

Suburban areas are nice, but you opted for the heart of the city — the vibrant tapestry of dreams and opportunities. You didn’t expect the journey to be fraught with sudden doubts.

The best thing, however, is that doubts and dilemmas never seemed this… tempting.

You tell him, “There’s always a place that makes people happier, for everyone.”

“Yeah,” he said, voice tinged with wisdom. “Only, some people already know of it, and some keep searching for it.”

“And I am—”

You pause, anticipating for him to finish the sentence; he responds, “You gotta know.” There’s a playful twinkle in his eyes, support and acknowledgment hiding right behind — matching his words, “I’d be bummed if you didn’t become my neighbour, but. Also just happy you guys are happy.”

Too kind for this world.

In your endearment, you laugh, suddenly stepping forward for a brief, thankful hug. A silent gesture of gratitude for his friendship, no matter how shallow or new.

The people you surround yourself with offer endless reassurance, and you’re lacking the words to express your appreciation.

“Thank you, Tae. Eun’s right when she praises your constant respect for other people, you know?”

Taehyung, maybe a little perplexed, brings a hand to your back, patting gently as he states, “No worries. The worst is over.”

You hope so. God, you genuinely hope so.

You pull back, tucking your hair behind your ear and bid him goodbye with one last nod. Taehyung closes the door behind you with a humorous thumbs up, and you grin before it’s silent in the hallway again.

There’s a tiny window outside, overlooking the street down there and the cars flitting by. The area isn’t as peaceful as Jungkook’s — more lively and noisy. You can see the city’s river if you look far enough.

And as you step closer to the glass, you envision your own apartment again. You imagine the soft glow of the lamp before you go to sleep. The comfortable couch you want to plant in the back of the living room, curling up with work or your laptop or a cup of hot chocolate.

You picture the view of the city as you step to your open window, glancing out as the steam of your beverage swirls in the evening air. Contemplating the world outside.

But then you start rethinking Jungkook’s words, too. The idea of belonging and happiness, of domesticity and what could be.

And at last, you visualise what it’d be like if you didn’t see any of this — the lively street, the river in the distance. Wonder how you’d feel if the horizon looked different.

If you stared out and saw a different canvas instead.

The changes in your life are drastic in some way, but Jungkook always stays the same.

Your house lies quiet most of the time; as days pass, you frequent your room, then drop by in the living room, greeting the staff, grabbing dinner and retracting back to your beloved bed.

Jungkook’s apartment, baby-sized compared to your place, allows a much livelier atmosphere. Maybe because you don’t need to yell for him to hear you from another room. Or maybe because it’s just the two of you.

Perhaps even because you find solace in the couch, in the smaller smart TV in front of it, the glass table, the carpet, the homely furniture in general. The scent reminds you of wood, but you connect it with him, too.

It’s different from the room you grew up in. Different from the luxurious chimney and marble you’ve seen all your life. And you must admit that you enjoy it a lot more, too.

One of the few reasons why your mood changes from exhausted to merry the moment you knock at his door on Thursday. He was expecting you, because when he opens, he beckons you inside immediately, pulling you in and planting a generous kiss on your cheek.

A smooching sound accompanies it, his foot closing the door as he suggests, “Dinner first or TV?”

“Shoes.” You laugh. You slip out of your thin jacket before tackling your snickers quickly, your clothes suddenly itchy and uncomfortable. “Shoes first, and then shower? Can I?”

“Yeah, of course.”

It’s not the first time that you’d be doing it. But there’s still something new and pure about this new chapter of your life; one that comes with polite questions and reinventing reality, apparently.

Redrafting life as you knew it and striving towards something better.

“I knew it, actually,” he says, forefinger wiggling, “I put a fresh towel on the washing machine. Also had a handful of your shirts here, so there’s one of those on the towel, too. And my joggers… Sorry, you left none of those, uhm—”

He’s started walking ahead, scratching behind his ear, but when he notices you not following, he looks over his shoulder. Blinks at you, staring into his living room and back, innocent voice unsure, “Come?”

“Yeah. Yeah, just— you didn’t have t—”

“I know,” he interrupts, breathing a sigh in faux frustration, “I know I never have to. But I figured you’d wanna shower.”

“…Thank you, Kook.”

You wish you could say more; express your gratitude the way you want to. At least your body is jubilating, craving the hot steam of the shower. Starving further for some peace when you step into the bathroom and detect the neatly placed clothing.

Jungkook halts at the door, gripping its frame, a little shy as if you didn’t breathe each other in for the last couple of weeks and months. He’s looking at you, waiting for something, and when you raise an eyebrow in curiosity, he snaps out of whatever daydream he was in.

“Oh. Right,” he mumbles, cheeks flushed, “sorry. I’ll leave. Can heat up the food. Or, or do you wanna order in?”

“Anything’s fine.” He nods. Opts to walk away, big hand flattening his hair at the back. It takes a moment for your heart to riot as you watch him leave, immediately babbling, “Actually. I was—”

Returning within a moment, he looks alarmed. Less so when you point a thumb to the shower and suggest, “Do you wanna join?”

“You in the shower?”

No, doofus. Join to watch the washing machine unsoil your sweaty clothes.

You clear your throat. “Yeah?”

“I uhm… Is that okay?”

Goddamn. Redrafting life as you knew it, you said.

You just didn’t expect the two of you to still tip-toe around each other. Seems you still have a lot of adjusting to do.

You try to break the ice.

“Acting like I’ve never seen you naked.”

“No, I know,” he responds, “I was just thinking that you…”

You can’t quite decrypt what he’s trying to say, but you do perceive the flash of concern in his eyes. It’s a tiny glimpse, barely there; but you see it. And you think about it.

Try to understand, let moments pass — until you’ve grasped his thinking.

The night he helped you clean up was the last time you stood under a showerhead together; maybe he thinks you’re still connecting it to the night’s trauma or borderline dangerous intoxication. And perhaps you’re wrong.

But you still take a breath, and then segue, “Already took a shower, didn’t you?”

You know he did. He’s addicted to cleanliness, sensitive to scents; he hoards diffusers, skin care products and new underwear like a treasure. And showering is always the first thing he goes for, a beeline to the bathroom after work out sessions and intense summer days.

You follow up with, “It’s okay, if you did. I’ll just go alone and hurry to dinner, then?”

“No, no… No, it’s fine.” He starts his sentence fast, but slows down halfway through, awkwardly. “Of course I can join. What’s some extra refreshment, right?”

“That’s the reason, huh?” you mock, laughing when he shrugs his shoulder. “Keep acting like you’re not the biggest simp around.”

Your confidence boosts his own, too. The signature smile is soft, lips curved gorgeously, but the subtone of his words is teasing, and even a little cocky.

“Of course. I know, I know.”

“Come then.”

You offer a stretched hand, curling your fingers in and outwards, and he places his warm palm into it like a key to a lock. Albeit tense and nervous, your body feels good next to his. The telltale awkward signs of a new relationship don’t deter you from indulging in its sweetness.

So you’re not surprised at how quickly you undress, throwing each other’s clothes at the back of the washing machine and planting kisses whenever one of you bares their shoulder. Eyeing each other from bottom to top.

You think you ogle for a moment too long, though — and how could you not with the freaking silver chain dangling from his neck?

An exciting evening lies ahead, you can already tell.

It’s fresher now outside, and all of Jungkook’s windows are open. Despite the cosiness of the bathroom, you rush under the hot shower stream.

Only, it’s not as boiling as you’d like it to be. Jungkook starts and finishes his showers ice cold, so you screech when you meet water from the Antarctic. You jump on your spot, arms around your torso.

And when you allow yourself one single glance at him amidst the breathlessness, you notice that the asshole is doing it on purpose. Same old. Rouses core memories.

Jungkook wipes over your hair and your face, drenching them thoroughly. You only realise he’s smudged your mascara when he starts rubbing underneath your eyes gently, managing to get some of it off.

“Fuck,” you curse, “I forgot about that. Should I take it off first?”

The intention is to slip out, use one of his cleansing skin products and get the mess out of your face before stepping back to him. But you don’t make it far anyway; he yanks you back before your foot can even touch the mat.

And then, the moment passes in a blur.

Tense body back against his, he tugs you close. Holds both your wrists in front of your breasts, leaning in without a warning, and then — connects his dripping lips with yours.

If there was any space to gasp, you would. Instead, your fingers instantly dig into your hand, sharp nails scarring the skin. You move your fists, trying to touch him, but he holds you in place firmly.

That is, until his digits relax, trailing up your shoulder to your neck, jaw and then to your cheeks. Face in your grip, you let him control the pace. You find an anchor in his bicep, holding on; kissing isn’t enough.

You wish he could eat you up. Wish the tongue finally touching yours, swirling around it, was everywhere on your skin at once.

You feel a slight twitch underneath, right against your body; ready to devour, hopefully soon to explode. But Jungkook gasps for air when his lungs give out, allowing a break, backing away with your face still between his hands.

And then, he utters something surprising — something you didn’t expect in the heat of the moment at all.

“I was meaning to tell you something.”

“…Oh?”

“I’m uh. I’ve been meaning to tell you for days. I just never quite got around to it and we were so busy and tired all the time and—”

“What is it?” you break in, heart pounding at an unnatural speed. “I’m here now, so…?”

For a second, you expect this to take a whole different turn.

The database in your brain empties the moment you scour it for an answer, preparing yourself for molten knees and dissolving hearts. Or maybe, it’s already clarifying to liquid, jumping out of your chest and flowing down the drain along with the water.

But he doesn’t say what you anticipate. Though, what he does admit has your nerves glowing neon white anyway.

“So— the first night of my showcase. On my birthday?” he starts. You feel the muscles of your face change, and he sees it, immediately assuring, “No, no. Don’t worry. I was just gonna say that a guy came to me by the end of it? And—”

He lets all of it sound like an unsure question. But you think you know where it’s going — you hold your breath under the already suffocating water.

“And?” you prod.

“And turned out Namjoon invited him, and he’s kiiiinda a big shot in the art business? Like, he’s a gallery collector, he said. He’d invest in my art and acquire it and have it showcased in bigger museums for more recogni— I know!”

Your mouth and eyes opened halfway through his quick explanation, fingers back in fists, pressing against his solid chest and then moving up to hook in his silver chain. You’re restless in the congested space, suppressing the high pitched sounds.

He puts his hands on your hips, snickering in joy as he says, “Be careful before you slip.”

“You’re kidding!”

“Thankfully I’m not, angel,” he shakes his head, bangs sticking to his forehead, “not this time, at least.”

You raise a hand to his pec, tapping against it, “Wait. So just so I understood correctly — they’re gonna put up your stuff there for an even bigger audience to see, yeah?”

“I mean, the gallery is definitely far bigger than the exhibition I participated in.”

“Oh my god, Jungkook, the exhibition already had a shit ton of visitors!”

He nods, proving a point.

You feel an electric current in your blood. Pride, that’s what it’s called, too. You sling your arms around his neck recklessly, nearly falling, but you can’t be bothered as you exclaim, “This is so— I don’t even know how to react, Kook!”

And who could convince a big-shot art connoisseur so quickly after graduation anyway? Jungkook’s god given talents are never praised for nothing — you knew it. Fucking knew it.

Won’t make it anywhere, your ass.

“That’s so fucking awesome.” You stare, out of breath all of a sudden. God, if there was a way to express your delight. “When is it happening? Are you selling the one you showcased?”

“I don’t know yet. And no. That’s too… personal to me.” You blink, nodding. Still overwhelmed with how his pieces made you feel — of course they’d hit even harder for the artist himself. “He wants something in a similar style, though. I’ll make something new for him.”

“What’s it gonna be?”

It’s a simple question. You swear it’s nothing too deep.

But Jungkook’s gaze changes. An amused, delighted expression replaces a neutral one, head tilting to the side just a little. His lips, already slightly swollen from the kiss, move up, eyes kind and sugary.

If you only knew how your small details affect him, too. How you looking at him like this, expectant eyes split wide, innocent and gentle, shoots an arrow to his heart.

You just don’t know.

He brushes the hair sticking to your cheek back and tells you, “You’ll see. I’ve been working on it these days, but. Will show it to you when it’s done.”

You can’t even be mad. If it was up to you, you’d probably wait for the big day, too — can’t spoil the surprise, need to cry tears of pride and joy in public.

So all you say, deep from the heart, is, “You’re the fucking coolest person I know.”

“Nah—”

“The coolest.”

“Funny,” he retorts, as bad at compliments as you; throws them back like a boomerang, “thought the same when I met you at the party last year.”

“…Gross.” That’s what you say. But you still shake your head; overwhelmed, smile plastered to your face and cheeks hurting. “God, Kook.”

And that’s all.

You keep holding his stare, finally too tired of the distance to endure any longer — and then lean in. You stop a couple inches away, watch his head angle more, mouth steering towards yours. The smile is mutual, fingers seeking a spot to settle on on each other’s bodies.

Your heart monitor would be wilding right now — the effect of your lips meeting clear as day behind your ribs. And this time, you don’t stop.

The push against his chest is immediate, his feet slowly tumbling backwards. His tongue burns hot against yours, your lower lip fitting perfectly in the gap between his lips. There’s a sharp hiss when his back finally touches the tiles, mouth open but not leaving yours.

Teeth soon clash, and you opt for more of his taste, well aware that you just cannot kiss more than you already are. His hands move up and down, never settling, both your lips harsh and impatient. Your tongues keep moving in patterns, thirst never quenched.

You break the kiss solely for oxygen purposes, but he uses the moment to let his palm wander from your face to your hair, grabbing a patch. One hand pushes against the small of your back, though soon dropping to your ass, fingers between your ass cheeks, teasing the clenching hole.

Fuck.

The moan isn’t intended, but very welcome — you love the sound of it as much as he does, followed by his own. An automatic reaction. His hips indulge in the tiniest movements, length jerking against your body; no more than an inch of his fingertip pushing into your ass.

“Fuck, Jungkook,” you breathe, eyebrows furrowing, mewling against the corner of his lips. “More, now, please.”

It’s an attempt. Of course he won’t act that fast — you know him well enough. He’s been a soft gentleman often enough; but after holding back the past few days, missing it for weeks, you know it won't be easy on him either.

One of you will be on the brink of tears soon; until now, it’s usually been you.

You take a deep breath, agitated when he laughs. He retracts his hand, smoothing back his chaotic mane before leaning in for another peck. And that’s all it remains — interrupted immediately, saliva mixing with the shower water.

“I’m so fucking crazy for you,” he confesses; the shiver doesn’t hesitate crawling down your spine — neither does Jungkook, peppering your neck with kisses.

His actions are smooth — you let him do anything. Like, explore every little spot of your skin. From the softness of your face, down to the flesh of your ass, echoing hard when a flat hand slaps it out of nowhere.

You propel forwards, barely aware of your surroundings. The shower raining onto you is the only indicator of where you still are.

So when he turns you carefully, 180 until your back touches the tiles, you don’t realise his intentions for a moment. Only when he changes his approach, digging your shoulders hard into the wall, knocking you out of breath.

“Are you trying to—” you ask, but he interjects right away.

“Don’t question it this time, okay?” His face inches close again, teeth suddenly pulling and nibbling at your lip. “Just let us do. Lemme do, yeah?”

His chest presses against your tits before he backs away and palms your mounds, squeezing nearly painfully.

For only a heartbeat, though — he doesn’t stall further. Because another second passes before you’re turned in his grip, chest not touching his anymore, but the wall now. From behind you, he grasps your hips, dragging you back just a couple inches; enough to sneak his hand through.

“But whenever things get too much, you…”

You nod. Promise, “Will tell you. I will.”

“Good.” His cock pokes between your ass, and he spreads its cheeks. Lets the hardness rest between them, sliding up and down. “Gonna make you feel so good, though. Wanna make you feel so fucking good.”

Wow… wow, f—

Not that you were ever interested in it before, but…

Part of you wants him to shove it in anywhere. Wherever the fuck he wants. You’d endure all hour-long foreplay and pleas and tears for him.

And perhaps he’s thinking the same. Perhaps you even spoke it out loud — you wouldn’t be surprised if you did. But you choke on your spit when he says, “Missing the sex toys. Like… What do you think of new ones, hm? Someday, maybe. Like— like an anal pl—”

“Please,” you beg, “I’ll do fucking anything for you.”

Break in conversation. Then, “Holy shit.” He chuckles. Fuck — his voice is deeper now, isn’t it? “You’re being whiny. I thought you’re a badass business woman, but you’re so whiny.”

“Because— I can breathe when I work.”

“Ohh. And now,” he whispers, close to your ear, hand moving. Up and further up, stopping around your throat, as if he’s testing your statement. As if he could tell him anything about the state of your lungs. “Now we’re not as focused, right?”

“No thinking when I suck your dick.”

“Dammit. Really don’t wanna wait to fuck you numb.”

You’re shamelessly jittery, patience out the window. “Don’t then. Get to it now.”

“Nope. I know you’re not ready yet. And I’m not either… so—”

He steps closer, forcing your body further forward until your cheek is squished against the wall. His fingers leave your throat to find another target; something far more south, a lot more dangerous.

One small circle drawn around your clit, you gasp, hearing him ask, “You think you can come with just my fingers?”

“I don’t know. I honestly think I need—”

He chuckles, and you can’t help but laugh, too. You’re hilarious sometimes.

“You think you’re so smart. But we can still try, though.” He says it casually, as if the two of you don’t exactly know that he’s perfectly capable of pulling through. But his voice still softens when you don’t answer, “Hey. You wanna try, sweetheart?”

“Yes. Anything,” you convince him, “anything, Kook.”

“Good girl. The best, always.”

His touch vanishes. You let out a mildly confused sound, observing with an unfocused vision how he opens the shower door a little. He reaches for the towel on the washing machine, drying his fingers, other hand moving the shower head until it’s mostly wetting his own back.

It’s a tiny detail, really. You only told him once how action around the clit might become uncomfortable with hands priorly washed or wet, and it seems he remembered.

Your eyes shut when he returns to your bundle of nerves, massaging gently, skilled. It starts slow at first; you feel the hot wetness build in and around your entrance, the line between the shower water and your arousal fading.

Jungkook’s movements, calculated and systematic, only spur your body on. He’s always known what he’s doing; has analysed and explored what you want. How you want it.

It’s true heaven to you: the way he kisses your cheek. The way he draws moans out of you, the motions around your swollen bud rhythmic. Your back and limbs tingle; you don’t know what to do with yourself.

And when you can’t stand still anymore, Jungkook orders, “Stop that. You’ll break my jaw.”

“Sorry.”

Your apology is timid, tiny; he laughs. “You cutie… you’re adorable even in moments like these.”

You throw your head against his shoulder as if to oppose him, opening your eyes, looking straight into his eyes. Your eyebrows are kissing, tension between them, mouth agape.

And he adds, “Or maybe not.”

He lifts you up a bit, dragging your body along the wall — you didn’t even notice that you slid down this much, angled, ass darting out like this. But you also don’t mind the arm that rounds your torso, just underneath your tits, keeping you steady when he takes it up a notch and—

“Oh my god,” you squeak when he pushes two fingers in. “Yes, yes, please—”

The incoherent, random requests are his favourite. Most of the time, he knows better than you what you’re pleading for. Which is why he doesn’t stop this time; probably more in the mood to please you than tease you.

From this position, he can’t reach knuckles deep, but just enough to brush the walnutty spot inside. And to your surprise, the orgasm builds up fast; the first quiver takes over your knees, but you understand that this is nothing compared to what’s to come.

You press your hands to the wall, holding onto remnants of your sanity when he kisses your neck, and along your damp shoulders. His mouth is hot against your pulse, wet hair tickling under your jaw. He bites lightly; soothes the fleeting sting with his tongue. Vampiristic.

Like a sensual massage, well thought out, pornographic.

And then he picks up on pace. Whispers, “That’s right— we got this—”

He starts pumping into you; relishes your incomprehensible curses. The thumb over your clit and the impatience of his fingers inside are a dichotomy, and you don’t know what to focus on. Which is why you stop thinking altogether.

Jungkook takes a sharp breath, quiet whistling sounds included, and then groans into your ear when you do. He keeps his motions up diligently, fingers a bit deeper with each time your ass moves back an inch.

As an aid, he shifts his arm, too, pushing forward, palm pressing against your clit now.

And when you come, you melt. Nearly collapsing, you keep moving, on edge, every spot of your body in tremor. You can barely breathe; you’ve been nestled in the heat of the shower for way too long.

He notices your tremble in an instant, encourages, “Got it. Got you. Keep going, baby, c’mon.”

The peak is blissful; you don’t want to ever fall off the edge again. Want to remain in this starry, gorgeous ache. Your eyes could stay in the back of your head; the world may keep fading. And you don’t need to know where you are.

All you know is that your voice sounds odd, high when you pant, “Don’t go away yet.”

“I’m right here. Right here, got you,” he repeats, holding you upright.

Jungkook knows — knows how to get you from lowest lows to your highest highs. Today was as pleasant as a day at work can be; but if he’s ready to do all this to you on any other, worse day, too, you might never encounter grief again.

He scatters kisses all over your jaw when you’re done — busies himself as you catch your breath, swallowing, eyes closed. Once you’ve caught yourself enough to utter fragments of sentences at least, you tell him, “Something not human about you, Jeon.”

“Oh. Are we back to surnames now?” He cackles, soothing motions along your arms. “Are we gonna shake hands, too, once we’re done? Bow and say thank you?”

You shake your head, though the stupid smile doesn’t wait to spread on your face.

“You’re dumb,” you say.

“You make me dumb.”

He drops his touch, brushing your pussy again — maybe as a test. But you’re sensitive and vulnerable, closing your legs and opening your mouth in response. He’s sly; uses the moment to push two fingers in right away, pressing your tongue down.

And you, as challenge-accepting as ever, start sucking, tasting some of yourself. You wrap your hand around his, moving your head, chest still heaving from the exhaustion. Your eyes close slowly enough for him to see them roll back, a reaction to the images your brain creates.

Like, the thought of the member currently poking you replacing those digits. The prospect of emptying him entirely.

“Fuuuuck— wish my brain could take a picture of this and save it forever,” he says, voice strained.

You open your mouth, licking a strip along his finger, past the tattoo. “What’d you do with it?”

“Would… would bring it to the forefront of my mind,” Jungkook begins, reclaiming his hand and dragging it down to your waist, “and use it whenever you’re away.”

“Hmmm… and then?”

“Would just…”

He doesn’t continue. Only shakes his head, lifting his shoulders, stance desperate and wanting; maybe he’s even a little out of his mind.

You egg him on, “Show me if you can’t say it.”

It’s a surprise that he obliges, but then again, it’s not. You always forget just how weak he is — that his heart sits right there in your palms, his body a magnet to yours.

So you’re endlessly pleased when your eyes flit down to a hand around his dick. Stroking slowly, its head hard against your pelvis. And you manage to watch a tiny second longer until the floor beckons you towards it, down to your knees.

It’s uncomfortable immediately; slick and odd. But you’re distracted by your dry tongue, thirsting, ridiculously hypnotised by the cock dangling in front of you. And then his thighs… muscular and thick. You reach out to them, holding them, steering forwards.

Despite his delicate frailty, you don’t fare any better. Ready to bruise your knees like an obedient doll, eyes wide when you look up at him. You grip him softly, urging him to remove his hand, stroking in his stead.

You pass all pleasantries and hesitations, and dive in immediately — leading your mouth to the tip before wrapping your lips around it delicately. Determined, you let only a second pass, eager as you start moving right away.

Bobbing your head, you take him in as much as your gag reflex allows. He’s too big — it’s impossible to ever swallow him fully. But no matter how greedy you are, that’s it.

You don’t give into it all the way just yet.

Instead, you back away after another lick. Straighten your body, drawing in and repositioning until you can push your tits together around the stiffness.

His groan tumbles out of him broken, choked, a hand against the wall. His abs are rippling, bicep bulged, nipples tiny and perked. Dark brown. Eyes hazy.

You want to do so many fucking things to him — want to mount him. Pull his head back by his long strands. Want, need to kiss him, rub yourself on him, back and forth along his cock until his moans become uncontrolled. Sticky white cum sprayed over his tummy.

Your nails in your skin, yearning for more — that’s one of your billion thoughts.

Instead, you summarise your wants, whispering a single, simple, fucked out, “I…” You gulp down the knot. Shiver at your position, craving the hot water a little now. Then command, “Fuck my mouth.”

His eyes threaten to fall out of his head; like they always do. He knows it’s a constant reaction, too, it seems, because, “God. I’ll never get used to you saying this.”

“You better, though.”

“Right. Right…”

He caresses your face, pushes your hair back. Perhaps he’s had enough of the pace; because he soon reaches for your arms, compliant deer kicked out of his head as he forces your wrists up and crosses them against the wall.

One hand is all he needs to hold them in their place. One hand gripping them hard, disabling any movement of your arms.

You let out a strange, obscene sound, finding utter liking in this gesture.

But despite your pleasure, he still eases you into the process, the heart tattoo grazing your cheek. A touch so soft that you think he’s praising you, wordlessly and gently. Making sure you’re absolutely okay with whatever he does to you.

And you confirm it with another blink, stretching out your tongue, ready. Holding his gaze. Mesmerised and frustrated, he says, “You’ll kill me with the way you look at me.”

Jungkook fuels your confidence with vigour each time, eloquent through scorching heat, too. Because you don’t think you’ve ever smiled this self-assured before you knew him; or been certain about your power over others.

You used to be far more insecure than that, feigning ignorance and carelessness, but reevaluating your decisions every step of the way. Months ago, you could’ve never predicted such a shift in conviction towards yourself.

So it’s new to you, but invigorating at the same time, the grin you sport, the words you utter, “Killing you isn’t my intention,” when he doesn’t, you move your head towards the leaking head of his cock, awaiting destruction, “wanna make you feel more alive than ever.”

The breath tumbling out of his mouth is ragged, pinky finger twitching a tiny bit when you wrap your lips around the tip and then let it go with a plop again; like it’s a lollipop to you.

Your knees move closer to his feet, and he stretches his one hand to your shoulder, making sure you don’t get hurt on the slippery ground. But you’re far too distracted to appreciate the gesture just yet, even though you feel the faint tickling along your limbs.

“I got it,” Jungkook then says, back in charge, hands back on the protruding, thick veins.

He moves his hips forward, testing. You roll out your tongue once more, closing your eyes. Try to make more room in your mouth, despite knowing it’s a thing of impossibility. And to your chagrin, it takes only a few more seconds for you to be full already.

Taking in as much as your throat allows, you gag when you reach your limit, letting out a tiny cough, salivating. You still can’t move your arms; his fingers are like chains around your wrists.

“That enough?” he asks. “I’ll stop here, okay?”

You nod. Wait. When he doesn’t move, you start pulling back, and then push forward again immediately. Your tongue is drenched in absolute filth; the spit trails down your chin, and you wish it was his.

But that’s not the point of it all — you’re not supposed to comfortably bop your head back and forth, are you? Despite the daily softness between the two of you, you want to be used. Want all his greed.

And he knows. Asks, “What do you need?”

Of course you can’t speak. He’s aware of that; stares down at you as you breathe heavily around him, mouth stuffed to the brim. Cheeks aching from the circumference.

You moan around him, parting your lips, moving your tongue from under his dick to swirl it around it a little. You move back, tasting the liquid minimally dripping out of his slit. Fuck, you want all of it, in thick, sickening ropes, in loads and buckets.

“Won’t even back away to speak,” he teases, words contradictory, because he won’t allow you to take a break either. Shoves himself inside again; you’re embarrassed that you only manage half of his length. “The dedication is hotter than it should be—”

Full, coherent sentences. How?

But even his string of thought breaks when he starts in earnest. Filling up your mouth once more, as much as he can and then a bit more for good measure. You adjust to his movements, suck down immediately.

You don’t care about the loss of voice later; you want to eat him up entirely.

His strokes grow harder by the second, rock hard inside you. You move your head until the head pokes against the inside of your cheek, and the tight wetness affects him, his knees buckling by one single inch.

“Easy…” he whispers, shaking his head, water drops landing on your face. “Fuck. Wanna have you hanging off the bed one day. Wanna see my cock ram your throat…”

Easy, he said. He’s definitely not being easy on you, though. Not with these admissions. Not with his motions.

The thrusts aren’t just hard, but deliberate and controlled, too. Your head keeps pushing back, lightly touching the wall. You’re far over sucking his dick, way too obedient and submissive to define it like that.

No, you’re being fucked. Gagging and choking around him, sucking in the spit whenever only his tip remains inside, sounds lewd and specific. Coming from the back of your throat, wet, hot and bothered.

God, you wish you were strong enough to take him all the way down to the base, licking at his balls, feeling his twitching dick thumping at the very far back. But you guess this is more than enough for him, too.

Because he holds your wrists harder, a rope around them, digging into your skin. The free hand wipes your hair away again, your body sweat-soaked while the shower water still trickles down his back.

He holds you there; then reaches for your nipple; pinches it hard over your heavily heaving chest, pleased when you open your eyes and look up at him. Waterline damp — the dangling chain might just be one of the reasons for that.

“Bit more,” he mumbles, and you think he’ll surrender right there, inside your mouth.

Which is why you sit up straighter, more determined, licking at the underside of his cock when he drags it out a little. His balls hang in your face and you reach for them, tongueing, hungry, not wanting him to move away now.

He doesn’t. Not yet. Relief courses through you, swallowing around his thickness again. Rolling your eyes back, hearing subtle “Doing well, so well, angel”s, ignoring the pain in your arms as he holds them upright.

You hollow your cheeks when he buries himself in deep, struggling when he stops right there. He doesn’t move; your eyes well up harder. All air enters and escapes through your nose, and you’re shaking, holding his stare as he keeps his cock in place, absolutely still.

That is, until you can barely breathe anymore, nails digging into your palms, arms trying to escape. He doesn’t say a word yet, only lets your hands drop. Your shoulders crack a bit, and you shake your arms, filling up your lungs, your palms next to his feet.

His cock is covered in your spit when you look again; your gaping mouth and chin similarly drenched.

And only when your head stops spinning, does he hold his hands towards you, urging you to take them as he says, “Sorry, baby. You did so well, I…”

You grip his fingers feebly, getting up on weak knees. Instead of holding onto your hands, he soon wraps an arm around your body, pulling you up before he asks, “Less next time?”

“No,” the word comes out as a squeak, throat already affected, “I’ll always tap if I feel it’s too much. I promi— promise.”

“Good,” he praises, a kiss to your damp forehead. He turns the water off. “That’s all I want, baby. Look at me.”

You’re already exhausted, staring down, fatigue fuelled by the hot water. Your eyes flutter open as you meet his gaze, and he puts a hand to your cheek, thumb on your swollen lower lip.

“You’re so gorgeous,” he compliments; his hand must be heating up under your touch, “did you know? So sweet and stunning. It makes me sick.”

“Thought I was the only one. You…” He looks at you, and you hold him tight, smiling about your joke in advance. “You have such an effect on me, it makes me wanna throw up.”

Right. So in love, it makes your stomach turn.

“Please don’t,” he pleads, conjuring a tender eye smile. The wide grin is unreal. “And let’s get out of here. We can’t keep standing here.”

“Waste of water.”

“Yes, waste of water. That, too. And I should have some lube in the bedroom.”

Of course he’s as impatient as you — although you’re almost a hundred percent sure you could do without that stuff easily. The insides of your thighs are slippery, and you’re certain the shower wasn’t the sole reason for that.

Your legs feel weird, your body heavy when you finally get out. The cosy bathroom is filled with steam and heat, but at least you can breathe easier here than under the piping hot water.

The mirror is fogged up; you glance into it to check your state, but recognise nothing but your vague form. You wipe a stripe the size of your hand along it as you walk past, halting at the door. And when you look back, Jungkook is making quick, brief work on picking up the clothes you haphazardly threw to the side before.

“You don’t wanna do this later?” you ask, still fond.

It’s just him cleaning up the floor, but… you enjoy watching him do mundane things. You might never be able to explain why, but you do.

“Just throwing them into the washing machine. Will turn it on later,” he answers.

He straightens his body with a sigh when he’s done, sniffling as he usually does. His eyes are hidden behind his long hair, so he lifts both his hands to brush the soaked tresses back. The muscles of his arms are mountainous and firm. Tattoos ending at his shoulder.

He’s indescribably pretty like that. Looking up, lips parted, jaw chiselled.

You observe him for a bit longer, gaze trailing down his body. Small nipples, broad and sculpted pecs, six painfully visible rectangles of abs. Cock still mostly awake.

Fuck.

Crossing your legs, you bite your lips, one hand on the door handle. You take in the domesticity. The moment might be subtle and casual, but something about it is incredibly homely.

How you speak to each other, and how his washing machine is cleaning both your clothes. It’s the little things, isn’t it?

Your eyes are fond when you say, “Whenever it does happen… I can already imagine all of it clearly.”

“Hm?” He blinks at you. “All of what, baby?”

“Of being here with you. All the time.” His motions stop. He drops his arms, a strand falling back into his face, but he doesn’t care. Glances at you for a couple seconds until you smile and nod towards the door. “Let’s go.”

But it seems he changed his mind in this split second that you turn to the exit.

Because all of a sudden, just as he did before, he tugs you back. And just like before, you land against the wall, having him staring at you as if he’s seeing you for the first time. His voice is a whisper, enchanting, “Okay… you know what. Forget it.”

“Huh?”

“Fuck lube, okay?” His eyes are glued to your lips. Then to your pupils. He looks lost. “We can manage. Don’t need the bedroom… just you. Want you right now.”

“Jungko—”

You don’t anticipate it — so it draws a small moan out of you when his fingers suddenly graze between your legs, digging in for just a moment. Fingering you for a split second as you gasp — and then they disappear again.

He moves in to kiss your cheek. Just a peck first. Then his lips open against your neck, hand moving up your body and pushing your tit up. His tongue soon joins the fun, darting through his parted lips, sucking your tits hard. Biting, groaning, moaning.

“Jungkook.” You push your touch through his hair as he kisses his way further down, nibbling at your sides, and you whine, “Don’t wanna wait, Kook…”

His eyes are closed and his voice hushed, raspy and deep as he says between kisses, “I’ll be gone for a moment, baby. You’ll barely notice, I promise.”

Strange how he means distanced from your kiss, not from your body. Strange how you miss each other while in the same room, but not melted into each other.

You’re losing your mind. Throwing your head back, ruining your hair against the tiles. Eyes droopy and hazy, mind turning in various directions as you relish each touch and peck. Your body relaxes; all the weight of the world off your shoulders.

Jungkook fondles your body, caresses all of you, planting kisses on your tummy, your waist, your pelvis. Continues to tug at the flesh of your thighs with his lips. It feels like a massage, not painful but gentle. Careful as he hoists up one of your legs, throwing it over his shoulder.

And then… he starts.

His tongue flashes out to your clit. Parts your folds. It’s difficult from this position, but his pointy wet muscle paints patterns over your pussy. And you reel.

Jungkook truly is an artist. Knows to make you mewl, turns your breaths laboured. You move your hips, guiding his face closer with your hand in his hair, slowly riding it. The French kisses, the brush against your thighs… he’s…

God.

“God,” you echo, “I love this, I—”

He’s feasting. Letting out alluring sounds, spurring you on, and you almost topple over the edge. But Jungkook knows what he’s doing — leaves you yearning, moving away and up to you.

When he said he’d be gone for a moment, he truly meant it.

Your lip quivers when he looks at you, ordering a soft, “You’ll come together with me.” He raises your chin. “Okay? You and I together. Always.”

Must be a hidden message. He’s not just talking about sex anymore, is he? But him and you in one bubble, separated from the world. Nothing but you, you and you.

You barely wait another second. Instead, you immediately lurch forwards, initiating a kiss beyond sinful from the start. Teeth clashing, tongues feral. For a couple seconds you breathe into each other, letting out odd noises, his hand pulling your leg back up again and pinning it against the wall.

You’re on your tippy toes when his cock teases your entrance, his lips soon on your shoulder again. Cold chain brushing your skin. He’s sucking harshly, guiding his dick inside with determination. Sheer impatience is palpable in his touch and audible in his sounds.

The head of his dick parts your folds, diving in; and you let out a moan so lustful that he grows downright desperate against your shoulder. Standing here like this is hard, too; so he puts his palms on your ass, commands—

“Jump once.”

“What?”

“Jump,” he repeats, “I’ll hold you. Want you, please.”

“Okay…” you mumble. You put your hands on his broad shoulder, readying yourself, “Okay.”

And then you do — immediately wrapping your legs around him. And he lets you fall slowly, body pressed against yours, so you’re sandwiched between him and the wall; so he can guide his hardness back to your cunt.

You drop onto it slowly, carefully. Impaling yourself on him, inch by inch penetrating your insides. The more you take in, the deeper the crease between your eyebrows. And when he’s bottomed out, you feel like… yourself again?

Because what moment is more intimate than this? What moment allows you to crawl out of your shell more than this?

Even if in a crude sense, this is yet another definition of home. And every definition can be traced back to him.

“You feeling alright?” he asks, and you nod immediately.

“Is a bit weird, but…” you hold onto him, one hand moving to his face. You don’t finish your sentence; only nod, exhaling against his lips.

“Can I start?”

Another nod; and then he starts pumping in. Slowly in and out; you’re firmly in place against the wall, slipping just a little. His hands engulf your ass again — his strength is mind-numbing, and his sounds loud as he splits you in two.

Your eyes shut for a mini moment, and when they crack open again, they’re met with the still mirror. It’s fogging up again, yet still clear enough to make out Jungkook’s back; the form of his body. Your thoughts tangle up.

You’ve seen him shirtless a million times before, fully bare — but it might be the first time you’re enjoying this very perspective. And the entirety of him… leaves you gasping. Butt naked, ass muscles flexing, the triangle shaped back smooth. Where do his guts even fit?

They’re a blessing, those reflections, catching the way he’s standing, ramming into you. And then you, burying your nails into his shoulder blades, expression fucked out, body moving up and down the wall. Having things done to you by him.

You’re so fucking lucky.

You mutter, “Kook…”

“Yes, baby.”

“You look so good… so…”

“Mmmh, you do, too,” the sentence starts in a clear tone, but morphs into a whisper, “just… can’t see enough of you… shit, babe—”

He leans in, parting your lips with his, your tongues touching as he delivers a rough jab just once. And that’s when things stop working for you.

Because soon enough, you’re swaying to the side, nearly falling; as his protective instincts kick in, immediately holding you, his cock jumps out. And he shakes his head, pecking your temple once, and then deducts, “Okay. This won’t do.”

“Hmmm,” you hum in agreement, weak on your legs, “bad idea for sure.”

“Hold up.”

He’s quick to turn you around, thoroughly in charge of your body tonight — you’re fully under his mercy. Ready to kneel and bend for him. And Jungkook, understanding your boundaries, gives you all you need — knows what to do, knows when to stop.

And you keep handing over control; more so when he pushes you over the sink, stating, “Okay. Looks easier.” A pause. “Looks so much fucking better, too.”

Wish you could see. Fuck, fuck, fuck, you’re tense.

He leans down to kiss your back. His dick pokes between your ass cheeks again, slipping down and further down until it makes itself home between your nether lips again.

It falls into it in one fell swoop, swiftly, as if it’s no effort at all — guess it never is.

And god, does the position feel heavenly.

Balls deep inside; the first angle that allows full unhinged, animalistic mode.

But he still starts out slow; with long strokes and a hand in your hair. You tumble backwards a little, urging him to move too, lifting your ass higher and pushing your legs together for maximal effect.

Allowing more tightness for him; more friction for you.

“I… missed fucking you so much,” he says between thrusts. “You feel unreal.”

You guess you do. He does, too. Maybe the two of you need a reminder that this is all too real; perhaps a tantalising equivalent to a wake-up-pinch.

So you suggest, “Fuck me harder, Kook.”

“Hmm… want that?”

“Been waiting so fucking long.”

And while a lover of patience and anticipation — who is he to reject your wishes after the entire ordeal occurring in this room? The two of you have dragged out this moment plenty.

So he listens fast; soon using your neck as leverage as his inked fingers wrap it smoothly. Agreeing, “It’d be my literal pleasure, babe.”

God, he’s a dumbass — but you can’t physically react. Too caught up in something else; storing the laughter and jokes for later.

Because he picks up on pace, not too much right away; but enough for his hips to slap against your ass. Enough for you to be catapulted forwards with a whine, cheek pressing to the glass.

You lift your hand, accidentally wiping again, but only manage a trail, hand sliding down. From behind, you hear a hoarse praise, “Looks so fucking hot,” he draws a sharp breath, nearly hissing, “I promise I’ll be careful, just…”

He pulls at your hair. Shoves his cock inside rougher, face closer to you, lips to your cheek. Swallows hard enough for you to hear, and then, “Tell me if it’s too much. Am careful until I can’t be, baby.”

Until he loses control. He says it right before he drops all inhibitions and — goes feral.

You squint your eyes shut, calling out his name; the word echoes in the small room, and for just a second, you worry the neighbours might hear. And then right away, you stop caring again.

Because you want this man. Now and later and forever; want him like this, want him in any way. This isn’t just sex to you — if that’s what you wanted, you’d download an app like your freshman self used to.

No.

No matter how obscene, there’s meaning in every one of your touches; in every stroke, in every word, in every single time you lose yourself in him.

Your stomach twists as he jackhammers into you; you’re craving proximity, craving all his attention. Want all of his emotions and touches raw and merciless. Want to see him.

Although, when your shut eyes open, you only see blurry forms in the mirror moving, him behind you. He squeezes your neck; you see that much before he slides it down your body, straight to your clit, no detours.

He pushes his knee up for a second, touching the edge of the sink and balancing on one leg, but drops it again soon. The white painted, stainless steel of the sink, previously cold on your tummy, burns against your skin now. A chafing feeling.

Jungkook draws more forms against your clit, but then retracts his hand; instead, squishing your tits, indecisive where to touch. But it’s the last move he makes before he straightens his body, palms on your ass until he spanks just once and…

Pulls out again.

What?

“Look at me, sweetheart,” you register.

You pant, fingers clutching the sink and gulping down the tiredness before you manage a turn. Your eyes land on his dick first; it’s fully drenched in your arousal, so unbreakably stiff.

He whispers again, “Look at me,” but the moment you do, he doesn’t withhold your stare for too long. Instead, his hands are back on your cheeks, drawing you close, seeking your lips. His never-satisfied thirst matches yours; you want to remain here and freeze time.

With your arms around his neck, he guides you towards the washing machine, pushing the clothes further aside. He helps you get on it, but you argue immediately, “This could be dangerous, right? Shouldn’t sit here, I think… might break…”

“It’ll be okay,” he says, making himself comfortable between your legs, pushing them apart with his thighs. Two fingers hold your chin, lips ghosting over yours. “Is a cheap ass thing… want a new one anyway.”

You wonder if he’ll say that about all the furniture he’ll fuck you on. Because observing his eyes, you know that he will — will soil every inch of his apartment within, what you anticipate, a short period of time.

But unfortunately for the washing machine, you’re too weak to reject the offer.

So you hold him tight, jostling him closer to you as you ask, “Yeah?”

“Mhmmmm.” The word drowns in your moan when his cock glides back in; when will you ever get used to this? “Don’t worry… won’t break as badly as we will.”

Well, fuck.

The ridges of his cock drag just right along your walls, the angle making your mouth water. Your cunt is burning; and he still dares to ask, “Okay like that?”

“More than okay, Kook… more than—”

He always screws you numb; barely ever lets you finish your sentences. Your moans have become a constant interruption, along with the goddamn things he says, “Your pussy is so good. So, so good.”

And then he’s back making out with you, sweatier than before. His body is enticingly warm, muscles working on you. Both his and your hair sticks to the nape of the neck or your back, and you hold onto him, keening against his lips.

Then, you lean back for a second, keyed up as fuck, propping up your body with your arms. Your palms press against the back of the machine, and he inches close to explore the bare skin of your torso. His chain skims your nipples, as if on purpose; and he kisses you here, there, everywhere.

Neck, clavicles, tits, jaw.

Perspiring without an end, all of this could be gross. But instead, you feel hyped up, sexy as never before. Dizzy at the sight of his golden skin, the small beads of sweat spreading on it.

It takes one or two more minutes of this insanity until things come to an eventual end. A glorious end, that is — filled with deep moans, squealed calls of names, unrhythmic thrusts that fasten for the finale.

“I’ll come,” Jungkook states, and you shoot back up to him, holding his head against the mounds of your tits. He kisses between them, breathing irregular, words muffled, “Gonna come so hard, what the f—”

And when he does, you lose all coherent thoughts immediately. Not that you could think before — but his uncontrolled exclaims already make you wish for a whole new round. Nevermind that your pussy is wrecked and beaten.

Vocal as ever, he finishes with deep shoves, slowing down with each second. His lips remain open between your collarbones, and you feel his eyebrows draw together. Thick strings of hot cum filling you up, your cunt tightens.

And somehow, after all this, he still finds the energy to sneak his hand between your bodies, blindly seeking your clit until he finds it. Familiar circles render you breathless, even though they’re lazy — but picking up on intensity when he leans back, still breathing hard.

He looks absolutely done — still fucking the rest of him into you. But you’re moaning and groaning, and he’s far from giving up as he says, “Come with me, baby.”

Honestly, he doesn’t need to tell you. You’re already calling and blurting out random words, already limp. Wrapping your legs around his torso with the tiny remaining energy you have left, absolutely insane.

Jungkook kisses you one last time. And you let the build up in your lower tummy and pussy proceed; up and up and up to the peak — until he delivers one last stroke, cock already softening, finger on your nub diligent and…

You milk his dick in its entirety. Your pussy clenches and unclenches. Random figures swim in your vision, flashy behind your eyelids. Limbs trembling, body a mess and fingers hooking into his chain, you only notice now that you’re repeatedly whispering his name.

Winding and crying. Trying not to tug too hard, to break the jewellery, but still urging him closer, closer.

You’re shivering, surviving the vertigo, breathing stagnant. Trying to control it. Quivering like fucking crazy, not feeling your legs.

Also hating how his cum is dripping onto the damn washing machine. In your hazy mood, you laugh a little.

It takes a bit of time for the two of you to calm down, to dim the adrenaline in your nerves. Your chests rise and fall in unison, still clutching to the embrace. His skin is flushed, yours hot, skin tingling with the lingering heat of the passed passion.

And when he finally moves back, looking at you, you see half a dozen things in there. Satisfaction and vulnerability among them. Maybe even a hint of mischievousness, proud of whatever just happened; happy with the emotions it conjured.

Stars in his eyes. Contentment, composure and affection at last.

A pleasant stillness follows, the world outside the bathroom nonexistent. The aftermath of the steamy encounter lingers until you break the silence after all.

“When the hell,” you start, throat dry, “did you get so broad?”

“…What?”

“You just. You looked endless in the mirror. You’re so—”

Amused, he displays a grin as sly as you adore. He tsks and then mocks, “Stop drooling.”

“You first.”

His chuckle is throaty; a result of the constant exclaims and the absolute dehydration. You give the two of you a moment to collect saliva on your tongue, to swallow and wet your cords.

Your fingers paint an invisible, light pattern on his skin; tracing his tattoos is one of your favourite things to do. You jest, “That’s a good way to destress.”

He arches an eyebrow, then rolls his eyes — but the devotion towards you behind the gesture is irrefutable. It carries into his words, no matter how playfully mocking his tone or his sighs, “Everything for the princess.”

“So,” you pause, lips curling into a soft smile. “Is this what I’m gonna be getting for the rest of my life?”

You see it immediately. The explosion in his eyes; the burst of stars in the depths of his pupils. Clear as the night sky, fond and sweet and magical. Guess you spoke big words for sure.

“…The rest of your life, huh?” he asks.

“No?”

“Is that what you want?”

Ever-the-boomerang, you gauge his reaction, closing the distance between you. Lips barely apart, you throw back again, “Don’t you?”

You don’t need to glance through his ribs, lungs, blood and skin; you see the swelling around his heart. Emotions swimming in it in abundance. You see all of it right in his eyes.

And his voice proves it; delicate and quiet, “Baby… you make my heart drop to my stomach all the time. Do I not look at you like I want a rest of my life with you?”

Gosh. You’re too weak for this.

“Look at me like that more often,” you answer, breathing against him, eyes dancing with delight, “maybe I’ll believe you then.”

“Huh,” he makes, letting out an entertained huff, “brat. Maybe later. Let’s get you cleaned up and dressed for now, alright?”

Right. You forgot you’re still here. Snapping back into reality is always a task.

Of course it is.

Because your world is a cocoon; you don’t want to leave it just yet. And maybe, somewhere in the near future — you won’t have to anyway.

Jungkook and you don’t waste minutes doing formalities tonight. No flickering candle flames; no organised set up of your table. You dim the lights, snatching a lamp from his bedroom and rely on it along with the TV’s brightness.

You filled your plates and stomachs with a dish he’s wanted to show you for a while. It’s some special Jeon recipe — limited to him specifically, not his family. The brief cut in your relationship kept you from the meal, but watching him fiddle with the pots and cutlery was worth the wait after all.

He’s still proud of it; you’re filled to the brim, sick to the core, but the noodle-Buldak-mayo-perilla-oil-combination introduced the night just perfectly.

Your body is limp against his after dinner, bloated. A mutual agreement concluded that watching a movie might be the easiest activity you could indulge in to further destress. So you cuddle up, eyes droopy as you wait for the Netflix logo and thump to subside.

You let the username float by, though unable to suppress your giggle. Your back shakes against him, his hand halting mid-air, remote control in it, and you comment, “Letjungcook7. You’re such a dork.”

“Why?” You look back, met with raised eyebrows and round eyes. “Do you not like it?”

“I love it. Don’t you ever dare change it.”

He tuts, trademark smirk tilted; responds, “And don’t you ever change your Sunny Baudelaire icon.”

“God, she’s an iconic baby,” you groan, enthusiastic; your hands gesture to the TV, Baudelaires nowhere in sight, “I will never shut up about this show.”

“That’s why you’re not allowed to change it. Kinda cute how much you love it.”

“Jungkook,” you tug at his unoccupied arm, placing his wrist and palm over your belly button, “would you ever rewatch it with me?”

His hand rubs gently over your shirt, and then drops until his fingers are toying with your — his — jogger’s strings. “I’m a pro at rewatching. I’m down.”

You whisper a dragged celebratory word, eyes back to the screen. He’s scrolling through the genres fast, barely inhaling the titles and summaries. And when he skips three more of the stuff you’d usually settle on, you say, “Don’t think you’ll find anything on there.”

Ironically enough, he answers, “We’ve barely looked. Look. Knives Out’s second part is on there.”

“I just watched it recently. Hmm, what about that Poe movie with Christian Bale?”

On cue, he passes it three seconds later, only stopping on it for a moment before he voices, “Hmm…”

You wait. Drag out another second. Then conclude, “Okay, you’re not feeling it. Got it. Something else?”

“What about Disney?”

“What about scrolling until we fall asleep?”

The hand still busy with the strings moves up to your sides, pinching you lightly. You flinch, hard enough to nearly break his nose, overdramatic by nature. Amidst your commotion, you hear him say, “Don’t mock me. I’ll kick you from the couch.”

“I’ll just stay on the floor then.”

“Angel, I swear.”

“Okay, okay. Sorry.”

But you’re not.

Because the bicker continues for another ten minutes, remote control snatched every now and then, ideas suggested and immediately rejected.

Jungkook admits his guilty pleasures merely a couple minutes later, and you conjure all your patience and discourse abilities to explain why you can’t watch The Notebook or Titanic anymore.

But once Dion’s soprano voice builds a nest in a lobe of your brain, you give in, half laughing, half agitated as you tackle the 90s classic — only for Jungkook to click out again.

“It’s no fun when we’re not both ready to watch it.”

“Dude…”

More scrolling, you guess.

Five more minutes pass — and eventually, Titanic deserted, you sing the songs of Coco instead. You expect Jungkook’s attention and lips to shift halfway through the movie, tracing down your neck or along your sides – a standard for a weekday movie night.

But to your surprise, he powers through it with minimal dialogue and wide, focused eyes. Palm above your ribs, moveless under your shirt and his cheek pressed against your heartbeat, you assume he’s fallen asleep by the time the credits roll.

Until – you feel warm liquid wetting your shirt, a sniffle combining with his shaky breath before you ask with your own damp eyes, “Babe— are you crying?”

His answer is delightfully unashamed and immediate, “I’ve never watched Coco without crying.”

The soft strains of the movie’s soundtrack won’t let your eyes dry either; but Jungkook seems far more into it than you. Adoration burns hot in your veins.

“You never told me that!” you exclaim.

“Because it’s not worth telling. Should be a given — these movies are made to cry to!”

You giggle through your tears. Jungkook’s mind works in miraculous ways — non-judgemental, yet probably flashing a side-eye to those who do not partake in a sob fest during Coco or Encanto.

“I honestly love how you’re not a toxic male at all, you know?” you point out; you feel a huff against your chest.

At least he’s smiling through the brief sadness, too.

You crane your neck, not quite turning around just yet, and watch him rub his cheek clean off the tears. Not that his eyes have stopped welling up, though.

For a moment, you observe, staring at the swollen, pouty lower lip. His pupils glimmer in the TV’s light, long locks brushed back; half of them tied in a tiny ponytail.

You could overthink every detail of his face. Tell him all about his everlasting elegance. Instead, you only lower your voice, soft as you say, “You look pretty even when you cry.”

“Thank you,” he returns, though fingertips still work at the liquid, and you can’t help but laugh.

You can barely believe that’s the same confident beast who was pressing you against cool tiles just an hour ago. The stark contrast baffles you.

You’re amused when you question, “It really affects you so much?”

“Everything about it!” he immediately argues. You expand your eyes. “The way Coco looks at Miguel at the end. And that freaking moment when she meets her parents at the end. Does it not affect you?”

“Oh, of course it does,” you defend, “I’m a story girl. I’ll cry reading and watching these things, for sure.”

“And then the lyrics,” he continues, in his element a hundred percent, “the thought of remembering someone even after they’re gone and far away…”

The further his sentence progresses, the more the words blur. His voice is feeble, hoarse when he gets to the final syllables. When he pauses between his rambling to draw a breath, you hear a heartbreaking shake in his inhale.

And the exhale sounds like a quiet sob.

You turn back immediately, pressing onto the pause button, remote control still in his hand. The credits darken the room as opposed to the movie’s colours before. You see a damp trail along his cheek, eyelashes wet.

Your smile vanishes as you stare a little longer. The blanket falls from your chest into your lap when you lift your arm from under it, hastily drying his tears with your thumbs. Just slightly, he leans into the touch, but his face soon falls, an attempt to hide.

You ask, “What’s wrong?”

Jungkook isn’t embarrassed of tears — you figured this out without him admitting it to you. But he’s embarrassed of the guilt he feels; acknowledging it when he speaks.

“It’d just be nice,” hands holding his face drop; you touch his chest, “to make up with the family like this. They made it look easy.”

You keep looking. Bewildered, unable to answer for seconds too long. You blink until the words sink in properly, incapable of more than, “I’m sorry, baby.”

“No, no,” he argues, shaking his head, “I mean. Who am I to tell you something like this?”

“It’s okay. Your worries are legit worries, too. Look at me,” you reassure, prompting him to meet your gaze. “You’re not a bad person. Okay? It’s… so terrible that you think you are.”

“I fucked up.”

It dawns on you once more that he firmly believes that; causes a searing sting. The process is neither a smooth nor a quick one — you know it’ll take a while for him to convince him otherwise. To drop his current beliefs about himself.

“You didn’t,” you refute, firm certainty and conviction in your voice. “That’s not how a fuck-up is defined, I promise you. And those who are actually wrong probably know, too.”

“It’d just be nice,” he starts again; the shrug of his one shoulder doesn’t distract you from the misery and self-loathing in his eyes, “if he called at least.”

“I know. I don’t know, I… do you think you could call instead?”

Jungkook’s lashes brush his skin, the apples of his cheeks not as round and squishy as usual. Yet, the sadness makes him look younger, softer.

You sigh; a warm blanket isn’t enough anymore. You need to wrap him in the comfort of the world — ideally, in his father’s care.

Jungkook opens his mouth for another argument, but then holds it in, says after another moment of contemplation, “Actually… There’s a gathering coming up. I’ll see my people there, so… I don’t know. Trying won’t hurt, right?”

“It never does.”

His eyes start unfocusing. You recognise it in the way he glues his gaze to a point on the glass table, unblinking, staring nowhere in truth. You keep your attention on him for another second, hoping he’ll look at you, even if forlorn.

But when he doesn’t, you wrap your arms around him instead. His chest is calmer against your head now, breathing as soft as the palms that find your back. He presses you into his body by mere inches; you barely notice.

Your fingers draw shapes on his arm, a subtle consoling gesture. In the background, you hear the song fade, volume lower now. The movie soon transitions to something else; you don’t pay any mind to it, drowsy and distracted in his embrace.

But then your mind wanders; to the man keeping Jungkook’s thoughts hostage. You remember the conversation the two of you had last Sunday. You recall the way your hand held his broken heart together.

You wish it was as easy as a small scar — an echo of whatever once transpired, but also a reminder that it healed.

Then, for a second, you think of your own wounds. How they still need to be cured, too. How years and time alone won’t fix issues; you need to tackle them actively — maybe at some point, the two of you can.

You laugh softly against his shirt, burying between his pecs; joking, “We’re perfect for each other. Dysfunctional families and whatnot.”

His chuckle is still a light tremble, but genuine enough for you to celebrate. His hands push a little harder into your back; your body shifts up his lap, butt half on his thigh. Eyes shut, still sniffling.

Jungkook wraps around you like a soothing force, an invisible bubble. A bandage despite carrying all bruises. You sigh in contentment, head dizzy from exhaustion; waking up just when he blurts a question again.

“You really think that, right? That I’m not a bad person.”

You crack your eyes open a slit.

You understand. Someone who overthinks needs multiple repeated reassurances — you’re the same.

So you nod against him, guaranteeing, “You’re… kind of ridiculously amazing. You’re someone who gives all those people hope who don’t believe in humanity anymore.” Pause. “And I admire you in every way. So much.”

He doesn’t respond. You wait. Further dead silence, interrupted by the soft sounds of the TV. You lick your lower lip, dropping your gaze to where your thumb rubs his wrist. Tracing a vein.

His mellow voice reverberates, a melody to your eardrums when he whispers, “We’d do this so much if you were here all the time.”

“Crying in each other’s arms, huh?”

He clicks his tongue, accompanied by the grin you’re certain graces his face, even if you can’t see. You hear it in his voice all the more, “Sure. Also, have dinner together. Shower and watch movies together. Laugh and cry.”

You smile. “I still can’t believe it, you know? That you want this… and me at all.”

“You feel that, too, yeah?” Fingertips move up your spine, between your shoulder blades and then to the nape of your neck. Tickling, grazing gently. “I promise I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t truly feel all that, though.”

“What’s all that?”

“Just.” His chest rises. Then falls. “Everything.”

One of your heartbeats freezes, you’re sure. And when it comes back alive, you think — maybe he doesn’t need the world’s comfort after all. Or his father’s care. Maybe yours is enough right now.

But then again.

You’d be damned if you kept your traumas intact. Or his. You took each other as you came long ago — as vulnerable human beings, with a whole lot of baggage. With all the injuries on your heart.

Yet, this isn’t a state you want to accept. For neither of you.

Your unwavering belief remains steadfast — that one day, things need to become… okay.

So you gulp down all the pain, lighting a candle in your chest, and say,

“It’s not over yet, baby.”

Zara keeps yelling orders around. Her voice, usually collected and tender, is agitated today. You can barely imagine how many little tasks, how many stressed phone calls must be overrunning her.

You establish a distance between your device and your ear, protecting your hearing with one eye squinting shut. And when she returns to the conversation, you exhale through the nose.

“Sorry. You were asking—”

“How’s it look?” you repeat.

“I mean, everyone’s stressed,” she responds, clearly frustrated; as if it should be obvious to you. And it is; but you’ll spiral, too, if you don’t keep your calm, at least. “A lot to do.”

“You’re sure you don’t need me to come earlier?”

“All good, love. You’re not a manager yet,” she stops her speech to mumble something to another co-worker, imaginary hands jam packed with preparations for the press conference. “But when you are, you won’t know what to do with all the stress.”

“Great outlook into a potential future.”

“I just mean you should enjoy things while they last.”

Zara isn’t the only one wandering up and down the building to assure perfection. She’s only one of the big mentors, managers to handle everything; responsible for the catering and content to be presented at the conference.

Her team stands firmly behind her, but you don’t blame her for still allowing her head to steam. Of all busy people in their blazers and slacks, however, she’s been the only one to spare some time for you.

You’re grateful for her enthusiasm and support. You smile as you ask, “Do you think I can answer everything the way I intend to?”

“I think so.”

“It’s so new to me.”

“Yeah, but you’re a natural at this stuff. And also,” she speaks slower now. The chaos behind her has calmed a little; her voice echoes off somewhere. Perhaps a restroom. “Things are looking good.”

You stop sauntering through the room, pausing in front of the bed’s corner before dropping onto it. Dragging your tongue over your lower lip, you blink, and then ask, “You’re sure?”

“We had a couple conversations over here. Made a few more phone calls, and I think you don’t need to worry about a thing. We’ll come up with something if things derail, though, okay?”

You’re uncertain, still anxious. Should this afternoon flop, you’ll be screwed.

You need it to succeed. You can’t afford misfires. Ugh.

Restless, your foot taps against the floor. You try not to think of things going astray; try to think of a smooth progress, not precarious in any way.

Yet, you ask doubtfully, “Can we do that?”

“We always can. That’s business.”

Guess she’s right. Your mother has saved you one too many times — from stupid things you did as well as from things you never needed saving from.

A rich human being’s power over the media — and frankly, the world — is unbeatable. Barely to be underestimated.

“Okay,” you mutter, “thank you.”

Despite only hearing her voice, you imagine her nod, the way she often does. You miss the warm, promising palm on your shoulder. Appreciate that she’s still here instead of dropping you to the side; leaving the call to handle more relevant issues.

No, she lingers there; you hear her breathe until she asks, “Are you bringing your man, too, by the way?”

Your man.

You straighten your back in pride, bright smile back, “Yeah! He said he’d come and support me. But he’s not home yet.”

“Oh? Well, you gotta be here in three hours. Where’d he go?”

“God knows. But don’t worry about punctuality.” You hear a hum, glancing up at the clock. Past noon. “Hey, also. My parents are definitely gonna come, right?”

“Babe,” she drags the word a little, and you can almost see her side-eyeing you, “journalists will be present. Cameras everywhere. At least your mother would never miss such a thing.”

Right. Cares about that company too much.

You remember the times she proved it to you. When you’d come home from middle school, eating some extravagant lunch while watching her talk on TV. Conversing with your staff.

“Okay. Good,” you say, happy about that very answer for once.

Outside, a door creaks. Steps echo through the hallway, a soft call of your name following as you hear the jingling of keys stop.

He sounds joyful.

You get up, phone halfway off your ear as you say, “Hey, I should go. I think that he—”

And the moment you look at the open door of the bedroom, your heart stops. For a second, you fear an intruder at his apartment, but the longer you look, the more your brain gives out.

The black-white-red jacket hugs his broad shoulders comfortably, the thin white sweater underneath it nearly transparent enough to reveal his tiny nipples. But despite his stature, it’s not his body that kills the power in your head.

It’s the—

You murmur last words into the phone, making out a goodbye that doesn’t reverberate as much anymore. She’s probably out of the restroom again; too distracted to give your mumble any attention anyway.

You place your phone where you previously sat and inhale his appearance carefully.

First off — you can see his ears. Can see most of his eyes. His forehead.

His hair is still dark, but it’s tamed. The wild locks, usually a feature you’ve gotten used to over the span of that one year, lay comfortably on his head. In fact, most of them are gone.

You feel a needle in your chest, but one of the surprising sort. Not painful at all.

“Wow,” you only say.

He reaches to the nape of his neck, fingertips brushing the hair there. “Yeah?”

You move towards his body, eyes fixated on every hair strand. Then, close enough, you state the obvious, “You cut your hair.”

“I… yeah. Is it terrible?” he asks, round eyes meeting yours. He raises his hand again, to his ear this time, scratching behind it for a second. “Not used to it at all. But I figured I’d look a little more serious as an artist like this.”

Really? Most artists you knew cared the least about a fancy appearance.

Then again, Jungkook doesn’t look fancy. He just looks different. Breathtaking, more mature, older.

His cheekbones look more chiselled now, his eyes wider. You could pass out right here, right now, and he still wouldn’t know how relentlessly he affects you.

“More serious?” you ask, less because you need an explanation. More because your mind keeps wandering, and you can’t fathom a word he’s saying.

“Just. Needed a change, I think,” he admits, “and wanted to adjust to a press conference’s typical look, too.”

“You did this for the press conference?”

“I wanted to look put together.”

Your heart dissolves and dissipates. His voice is soft as a petal, tender like the colours on his arm. The expression he sports is unsure, like he wants to hide — waiting for your opinion.

He really put thought into this. Woke up this morning and set a goal with purpose, not uttering a word to you to surprise you a couple hours later.

You don’t know what to say. You barely know what to feel, except this unbearable urge to ramble down every piece of tiny emotion he’s ever made you feel.

You want his body wrapped around you, engulfed in a blanket, head on his chest and slumbering for the rest of your life. Want to mumble little confessions, shiver when his lips touch your scalp.

Overwhelmed — that’s what you are.

“I loved the long hair,” you finally admit, “I guess I got too used to it, so I need to adjust, but. But… this is so… It… it suits you.”

You’re stumbling over your words, suggesting doubt. Not the way to go. Perhaps they shouldn’t have chosen you as one of the press conference speakers after all.

Jungkook’s concern grows visible in his big, round pupils; expressive, a true glimpse into his heart. You feel bad because you’re not as good with words as he is, and because he seemed so happy about his choice.

You just can’t fucking express yourself — even though you’re melting inside, falling harder. And maybe he notices your awkwardness, because he tries again.

“You’re uh— sure you don’t hate it?”

“No! God, no. It’s different. You look amazing, Kook. You look like…”

He swallows. “Like what?”

“You’re so pretty, Jeon Jungkook.” You say it with genuinity this time. He closes his lips, blinking, and while he attempts to veil his relief, you still see the high rise of his chest. “You look fucking gorgeous, no matter what you do. I… I mean it.”

The answer satisfies him. His risen shoulders drop a little, tension falling off, and he fixes the already perfectly sitting collar of his jacket before he smiles. Just a little, a subtle twitch of the corners of his lips.

As soft as his response, “I always aim to reach your level, you know?”

You roll your eyes. Partly to keep them from watering because your heart is bursting. Splintering like every morning and every night; you wonder if you’ll ever get used to it.

A couple gentle words lie heavy on your tongue, pressing against the muscle to let them out; but at the prospect of actually uttering them, your guts twist. You don’t want to throw up before the meeting.

So you remove the tightness from your chest with a deep exhale, nearly until your lungs are dry, and say, “Shut up.”

Playfully, you deliver a soft push against his chest, laughing when his dramatic ass stumbles backwards. Submerged in those goddamn dimples, you immediately grab the hem of his jacket and before you know it, you’ve taken a step forward and landed in his arms.

You sneak your arms underneath the leather-ish material, not hesitating for a second before you’re squeezing his torso. He lets out a choked sound, groaning, but reacts similarly fast as you.

His heartbeat accelerates for a moment, right against your ear as you make yourself small. The sweater smells like his favourite detergent and him; musky, fresh. Your palms, flat against his back, crave deeper touch.

Nothing crude; just an afternoon on the bed behind you, limbs entwined, laughing about things that probably aren’t that funny anyway.

For a moment, the silence transcends words. You inject the blend of gratitude and affection through your touch, ensuring he understands.

But when it’s not a testament to your emotions enough, you speak against his chest, voice very likely muffled, “You didn’t have to do this for me… you just. You never have to do anything for me, but you still do.”

“I’ll do anything for you.”

Immediate and sincere. Voice unwavering.

God, you’re not his strongest soldier.

A smile tugs at your lips, and you chide, "Stop that."

"What?"

"If you keep saying these things," you continue, a frisky lilt in your voice, "I'll die. Do you want me to die?"

Jungkook chuckles. Always a soothing melody in a hushed room. He remarks, grip still wrapped around you securely, "Acting all innocent now."

You don’t understand right away what he means — but then you hear his heartbeat, picking up on pace again.

Makes you want to squash him harder. Melt into him further.

“Shut up, Jeon,” you respond with a nudge, cheek pressed against his shirt. Just a moment longer — just a couple more seconds to inhale the solacing scent.

Your heart is unguarded; he could sever it if he wanted to. He’s proven that he has the power to. Yet, you keep fuelling it, vulnerable in his warmth as you say, “You’ve no clue what you mean to me, Kookie.”

Your vivid imagination might be forcing things upon your mind that aren’t actually there, but you do think you perceive the way his entire body melts. Nearly limp, in a state so relaxed and peaceful that you have only experienced in the mornings before.

Waking him up for work, feeling weightless limbs wrapped around you, passed out.

His fingers trace patterns on your back lightly, stirring from bottom to top and back. They first stop at the small of your back, then lift off your body, hands suddenly on your shoulders.

He pushes you off him, your movements reluctant, and looks at you with profound sincerity. His voice matches his expression, gentle and adoring, “Will you tell me how much I mean to you?”

Amidst the delicate minutes you spend standing between the bedroom and the living room, you almost forget that there’s a world outside. It’s a little more grey than before, similar to the suit you’ll be wearing in a couple hours.

You remember the prospect of an audience, the answers you’ve prepared, to questions they probably will ask. Zara told you they wouldn’t hold back — they’d phrase their inquiries friendly, but still keep the intentions devilish.

Right.

The world is still turning out there. You want it to stop for the two of you — frozen moments. But it can’t, at least not yet. Right now it’s too real; and you guess that the worst part is that in your line of business, it will keep revolving around people like you.

Whether you want it or not.

So maybe, if it truly needs to keep spinning and can’t halt for you, keeping you in the centre, you should give it something to talk about, too.

Something crisp, something new. Without a care for it, but all the care for you and the man in front of you.

Which is why you spare him another fond smile, forehead calm and your demeanour confident — and tell him, “I’ll do my best to let you know."

The audience stretches to the far back. All the rows are filled to the brim with reporters or guests. The shutter of the cameras and the flashing lights are agitating.

You look down.

Nervously tapping your feet on the stage, you shrink into yourself inch by inch. Your seat is uncomfortable, though padded, a little too warm against your ass right now. Zara notices your tick and puts a steady hand to your knee, repeating for the millionth time today, “Stop. It’ll be okay.”

“It’s just dawning on me though, Zara.”

“What is?”

You nod faintly towards the mic and the attendees, tell her, “That I was actually chosen to speak. They shouldn’t have chosen me.”

“You asked for it.”

“Yeah, but there are more important things to discuss.”

Zara’s lips form a circle; she shakes and lowers her head, sending out a beam of air that you feel on your wrist, blazer sleeves rolled up. You’ve been like that all evening.

“You can do it,” she repeats patiently, “you’re the boss’ daughter and they want your opinion. You’ll hit them hard with yours.”

You suck in a breath, leave the air in your cheeks, and then puff it out again. “I want to. I hope to, I just— never thought it’d be this nerve-wracking. Don’t wanna say anything wrong.”

The subtle shake of her head continues — or reemerges —, lips in a thin line, eyes slowly blinking, “Mh-mh. We talked about it, okay? Practised all the questions they could ask. You’ll be good.”

“You gotta promise.”

“As much as I can, babe, it’s up to y—” She takes in your falling face, holding back with a sigh when she sees the dread in your pupils. “I promise. Of course.”

She taps your knee, softly and lightly, and then says, “I’m so curious about everyone’s reactions. Like. Gosh, just look at those people.”

You understand what she means. “I know.”

Zara places a manicured thumb on her matte red lips, mumbling, “Here for entertainment. At least a third of them will add their own fantasies to the articles they’ll write. Hypotheses and manipulative, neutrally phrased thoughts. Cockroaches.”

Funny. That’s what you call them, too. A collective understanding, you see.

But.

“Shhh,” you voice, “they—”

“It’s fine. They know it, too. Like lawyers do.”

Can’t refute. Eun told you one too many times how unfair the law business usually is, and how she’ll strive to not have anyone ever manipulate her. To remain genuine.

“Yeah, but,” you still argue, “I imagined they’d be listening in all the time. Don’t they do lip reading and stuff?”

She nods, a finger still on her mouth, smiling, “Mhm. I also feel like I could say whatever, but it’ll be you they’ll focus on today.”

Your heart drops, an uncomfortable twist in your guts adding to the stress. Might have to dash to the bathroom at the very last minute. You curse, “Shit, Zara… I should fucking ru—”

“Stay. You can do this. I promise.”

“Okay,” you take another deep breath, helping your oxygen-lacking, spinning head, “okay.”

You look back to the media present, ready to survive questions; prepared to provide answers. The moderator is talking to your mother at the front, covering the mic with a hand.

They gave you around five minutes to speak, and in that time, you need to answer everything. How you do it is up to you, but the pressure to perform in a certain way, accordingly, weighs heavily on you.

But it’s alright.

You’ll just need to stay confident. Stick to your message. They’ll have things to say anyway — and you’ll make the best of them.

You stare past the lights, squinting to find him, raking your neck. His figure towers in the back, easy to detect, and once he meets your eyes — or perhaps never having averted his from you — he lifts a hand to wave in tiny motions.

Then, he drops his fingers again, entwining them in front of his body. He isn’t necessarily allowed here, but you were able to sneak him through in advance. So now he’s a couple feet from the wall, choosing to stand rather than sit, so you find him easily.

So you seek his eyes for comfort if need be.

Before you parted near the entrance, he said, “I’ll be offering a dozen thumbs up like a fool if you need me to.”

You chuckled — but maybe he meant it. Because his smile and nod undoubtedly dispel your fears; as if he can see you struggling.

The seconds drag on, and the conference begins seven minutes later. Your mother is the first to talk, outlining a general overview of what’s to come. Of Charmante’s philosophies, of its success, praising the team.

Then, she forwards to important employees like Zara, letting them ramble about launches or ideas in depth. Business strategies, partnerships, bringing across points that you usually don’t get the chance to share.

This is legit press; even though out for a loophole, they won’t follow you around or hide in the shadows. Incessant and vexing, but at least they’re allowed here.

Conversations about new collections, store openings as well as expansions and customer engagement pass in a trice, and at some point, another coworker is uttering last words to a last question.

And you realise — that you’re next.

The moderator introduces you with pride; everyone applauds, smiling at you fondly despite all the controversies. ”Controversies.” Under quote marks, as Zara pointed out, because you never committed an offence.

You stand on weak knees. Trembling when you grip the podium. It’s like the sound in the room fades, a single peeping tone overshadowing all noise. You barely blink anymore; not even the flashy white can shut your eyes.

And god, you can hear your breathing. Your damn heart. Your nose sucks in all the air available in the room, or at least in the building, and then you open your mouth to speak.

a/n: this is not a cliffhanger!! tumblr just doesn't allow to drop looong posts anymore, so here's the rest of the chapter lol, keep reading and enjoying, i love you and will see you on the other side!! and don't forget to support this chapter, folks 🥺 <3

#jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #bts smut #bts fluff #jeongguk smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts x reader #bts x you #bts imagines #bts fics #jungkook scenario #jeon jungkook smut #thebtswritersclub #jungkook fic #jungkook imagines #bts angst #jungkook angst #jungkook

2K notes · View notes