↬ genre: non-idol au, established relationship, fluff, smut [18+]
↬ summary: Jungkook spends his morning playing video games until you join him, in which he then turns all his attention to you… his loving girlfriend.
↬ wc: 4k
↬ warnings: cursing, fingering (f. receiving), oral sex (f. receiving), unprotected sex, impregnation kink (tiny), spanking, creampie
↬ date: August 8, 2019
Jungkook yawned as he slowly opened his eyes, feeling a weight on his chest. He looked down to see your head on his bare chest. Your legs were tangled with his beneath the covers, and your warmth was becoming almost overwhelming.
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gamer bf jungkook being real is funny until you realize you’re the one who manifested it after years of reading those aus and now you have to live with the consequences……..(fear in my eyes)
as a fluffer for a popular porn star, your focus is to keep him hard and performing on set. turns out he's not the only thing that's hard.
pairing: porn star!jk x f fluffer!reader
genre: porn star au, fluff, angst, smut
word count: 4.5k
warnings: yearning x 1000, also, due to the nature and theme of the fic: handjobs, head receiving (both m and f receiving), regular ol' sex, role playing (swat/cop), jk is a cheeky, insanely attractive man. he doesn't have the lip piercings....
Usually, you leave your apartment early enough to take the subway that leaves before the one you absolutely need to take.
Today, however, you couldn’t find your keys, and after spending ten minutes going through all the pockets of the outfit you wore yesterday only to find the keys under your shoe rack, you were left to take the later subway. And just because it’s you, and just because it’s today, that one was late.
Which is why you’re slightly out of breath when you step through the door onto the day’s set.
“Morning,” you greet Jeongguk’s stylist, Wendy, as she’s rummaging through one of her large black bags, opened up like a book on a table.
“Good morning,” she replies happily, but you’re already peering around the room. The walls are darker than you’re used to, and you quickly realize that you’ve never actually been at this specific set in this part of the building before. Are those… metal bars?
But before you can spend any longer thinking about it, you feel a large presence looming behind you.
“Put your hands behind your back. Now,” a low voice orders sternly, but there’s not enough time for you to even consider obeying before you’re grabbed and your hands forced behind your back. “Anything you say can and will be held against you in a court of law.”
You crane your neck in an attempt to see your assailant. “What the hell… Gguk?”
He laughs as he lets you go, and as you turn around, your breath catches in your throat.
He’s decked out head to toe in police uniform and gear, and not the dark blue one regular police officers wear, but the black one used by the special forces.
“What do you think? Can’t believe it’s taken me so long to do cop,” he grins, and your heart clenches when you see him smile so excitedly his dark eyes twinkle.
“How did I miss this?” you wonder, making no effort to hide your wandering eyes. He asked for your opinion after all.
It’s not uncommon for Jeon Jeongguk to look hot. After all, he’s a porn star so dressing his already handsome self in panty-dropping outfits is quite literally the point. And you’ve seen it all, well at least you think you have now.
You weren’t into thighs until you met Jeongguk. Actually, that could be said about almost all of the male body. You were attracted to guys, but as a whole. The difference is that although Jeongguk is most definitely a masterpiece in his entirety, you’re also attracted to every little part of him.
Like his thighs, currently straining the fabric of the black pants. As you take more of him in, like the black vest with ‘POLICE’ written on it, over a just as black jacket. Or the black cap on his head that instead has ‘SOU’ marked on it. The dark hair that’s usually framing his face or forehead in some way is pushed away by it, enhancing his strong, dark eyebrows.
The worst part is probably that he’s got the sleeves of the jacket pushed up, exposing his veiny forearms, one of which is inked down to his knuckles. From his belt, he’s taking a set of handcuffs to twirl casually around his finger, his other hand resting on a holster.
When you look up again, he’s waiting with a confident grin.
“You look hot,” you smirk, “I mean, you always look sexy, but they’ve definitely missed out not having you as a cop.”
“Right? And you’re my first arrest since you were late.”
“I wasn’t late, just later than usual,” you defend before lifting your arm to glance at your watch.
“Fuck,” you whisper, seeing that although you weren’t technically late, you still have a lot less time to get ready than what you’re used to.
Hurriedly, you reach for Jeongguk, your hands finding purchase on the straps of the vest and pulling him to you.
“And what’s this now?” he smirks, gazing down at you as you unbutton his pants. “Assault on police officer?”
“Ha ha, very funny, but c’mon, get your dick out, we need to get you ready.”
“Relax. We’ve got time. Director got here not even twenty minutes ago, apparently there’s been issues with the subways all morning.”
Your hands stop, and you lift your head to look around once more. And yeah, Jeongguk’s right, people are still running around, fixing things.
He’s smiling warmly when you meet his eyes. “Also, I’m always like at least half hard already when you’re around.”
You snort, rolling your eyes. Your right hand moves to toy with the velcro strap on the front of the vest. “Did you sleep well?”
Jeongguk doesn’t respond immediately, he just gives you a knowing, amused look.
“What? You said you found it hard to fall asleep on Sundays?”
“I did, didn’t I?” he sighs, still smiling as he gestures toward a couch placed next to the table with coffee and snacks. “I slept well, though. I promise. I’m well rested.”
You follow him, sitting down and turning toward him. “Good.”
For around twenty more minutes, you sit on that couch, just talking. Sometimes, despite the costumes and occasionally odd background sounds, it’s easy to forget that you’re at work. That Jeongguk is actually a porn star—a very popular one—and that you’re hired as his fluffer, essentially his assistant whose focus is mostly to keep him hard and performing.
“So, how’s today’s script? Oscar worthy?”
Jeongguk laughs. “Uh, almost. I’m bringing my victim to the cell and “punish” her by giving her the fuck of her life. You know, the usual,” he grins lazily, leaning fully against the backrest. It has you rolling your eyes. “Tried to convince them to have her cuff me to the cell instead and make a run for it, but they didn’t get my vision.”
Somewhere, you hear the director, a middle aged woman, call out that there are ten minutes left, and so you scoot closer to Jeongguk.
“Sad,” you agree, tapping his belt with your fingers, “maybe one day they’ll see you for the cinematic genius you are.”
He unbuckles the belt and unzips the black pants, revealing white Calvin Klein boxers.
“By the way, who’s your co-star?”
You crane your neck to look around the room once more, your hand dipping below the waistband of Jeongguk’s underwear and gripping him.
“Irene,” he grunts.
“Oh. I don’t know who that is,” you admit, eyes zeroing in on what you pull out of his pants. Funnily enough, he is half hard and warm in your hand already.
“You don’t know anyone in the industry except for me. You don’t even watch porn.”
“I know a lot of the women you’ve worked with, actually.”
You set a slow pace, having had a lot of time to learn how to make the process as comfortable as possible for him. The goal is to get him hard and keep him there for as long as it takes to start filming without getting him too close or tease him too much. So the result is a firm grip and slow pumps of his cock, your hand twisting over the head occasionally. And Jeongguk likes it, his entire body relaxes, and his breathing deepens.
“Name two,” he raises his eyebrow at you, and you meet his eyes.
“Uh… Irene… and, uh…”
He watches you knowingly, but you’re determined to prove him wrong. “And… Seulgi…?”
“Fine.”
“Also, I watch porn literally three times a week.”
He rolls his eyes, “You being here three times a week doesn’t count. Besides, you’re always reading something or working.”
“You know maybe I should talk to whoever comes up with all these concepts and ideas because I think you don’t do nearly enough submissive roles. I feel like someone should definitely fuck the brat out of you.”
He groans when you pinch the head of his cock slightly. “I do a lot more sub roles than the average male adult actor.”
“I know. I’m just saying I think they let you off too easy.”
Without really thinking about it, you’ve moved closer to him. It’s what always happens, wherever you are, no matter if you’re standing in a corner or sitting on the couch, you pull each other in until you’re inches and whispers away.
His eyes fall to your mouth for a second. Usually, when the position allows it better than this one, he holds your waist or your thighs or arms. But he’s not allowed to touch you more than that, isn’t supposed to kiss you either.
When you started–and before you met him–you signed a contract, and they asked for your boundaries and preferences. Better safe than sorry, you checked the box where you’re willing to touch your actor if you feel okay doing it, but you don’t want to have sex in any way or be touched in a sexual manner.
And you could’ve changed it, could’ve asked for a new contract to sign, but honestly, you’re glad you signed what you did. As Jeongguk watches you with half-lidded eyes, his big hand warming your thigh through your jeans, and his cock twitching slightly in your hold, you’re living dangerously enough as it is.
He kissed you once. It was in the heat of the moment, and he apologized profusely afterward, and sure, you could’ve admitted to him that you liked it and how it was probably your favorite kiss ever, but all you did was assure him it was okay and you weren’t mad or anything.
If you want to stay relatively sane, you need to have a line drawn. Otherwise Jeongguk will move inside your head and he won’t leave, and that’s not preferable when he isn’t yours and can’t be.
“Jeon! You ready?”
Used to the interrupting voice, you start to move away from him, his rock hard cock bouncing when you let go of it.
“Yeah. On my way,” he replies, moving his hand from your thigh to tuck himself back in his pants as well as he can. A second after he rises from the couch, Wendy swoops in and dabs something on his face and readjusts the cap on his head.
“Hey, I was thinking of running down to Subway for lunch, want me to get you something?” you call after Jeongguk who turns around, Wendy standing on her toes and moving his jaw to inspect his makeup.
“Yeah, sure. The usual? My wallet’s in the pocket of my jacket.”
“I used your card last time though, so I’ll pay this time.”
He narrows his eyes at you but there’s not much he can do as he’s being dragged away.
You’ve long since learned to somewhat tune out the sounds of people having loud sex. You usually bring your laptop, and at first, you used it to get some (quiet) schoolwork done, but now that you’ve graduated and found a full time job–which luckily enough, you can do a lot of remotely–you’re doing that instead.
At first, it was incredibly hard, and you found yourself feeling… almost flustered whenever you heard Jeongguk’s voice order his costar around or his moans or even pleas. Even worse when you couldn’t stop yourself from sneaking a glance over your laptop screen. If Jeongguk is beautiful in any costume, he’s even more irresistible naked. You try not to think too much about it or, again, you can practically say goodbye to your sanity.
At the moment, you’ve placed your laptop on your thighs, but you keep it closed while you observe the scene from behind all the lights and microphones and cameras. It’s alright while everyone’s still dressed, and you do enjoy watching Jeongguk act, even if the scripts are a little cheesy sometimes.
Currently, he’s got Irene pressed against the bars of a cell as he cuffs her hands behind her back. In reality, it’s probably at that moment he’s supposed to uncuff her if anything, but who cares, it’s porn.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he questions sternly as she starts to “innocently” feel for him with her hands, his crotch being at the perfect height.
“Nothing,” she says, looking at him seductively over her shoulder while still tracing his cock over his pants. “But officer, I think I’d prefer a different punishment…”
Both Irene and Jeongguk are exceptional actors, being able to keep straight faces at lines like that. You, sitting on the couch at the back, have to close your eyes and put a hand over your mouth just in case a laugh tries to escape.
However the comedy ends when Irene, still handcuffed, is on her knees in front of Jeongguk and pulling at the zipper of his pants with her teeth. You don’t look more than a brief glance here and there as she chokes on his cock, or when he’s got her on her back on a desk, eating her out like his life depends on it. Nor do you watch as he fucks her against the bars, or in any position, really.
“Cut!”
Immediately, you shut your laptop and place it beside you on the couch, reaching for the white robe you hung over the armrest earlier. It’s a very sweaty and even more naked Jeongguk that walks off the set and toward you. On the way, he removes the condom and discards it in a nearby trash can. It’s not because it’s full and he’s soft or because he finds them uncomfortable, because he’s definitely still at full mast, but he knows you definitely prefer touching him raw than over a used condom.
“Long or short break? I didn’t quite hear,” you ask him when he takes the robe from your hands. While he puts it on, you reach for a water bottle, handing that to him as well.
“Short, there was a problem with the mic, I think.”
“Hm, okay. Doing good?”
He grins at your question, unscrewing the top of the bottle and taking a swig. “Yeah. You? Getting anything done?”
You look back at the laptop where it lies forgotten on the couch. “A bit, actually. But it’s a little hard to focus sometimes with how loud you’re moaning,” you tease.
“Oh, really?”
“Mhm. So what’s the status, are you soft yet?” you ask, pulling him closer by the robe.
“Didn’t I say I’m always at least half hard when you’re around?”
You chuckle. Although it’s a game to keep him hard and turned on, you don’t hate it. True to his word, Jeongguk is very much still hard when you sneak your hand inside the robe. Sound guys walk through the set, and so you move toward the back corner of the room so as to not be in the way.
You continue the same kind of handjob you did earlier, but when you see people making calls and seeming a bit too irritated, you furrow your eyebrows and peer up at Jeongguk.
“This looks like it might take a while; you sure you want to continue?”
The option to just let him go soft isn’t very popular, you know that, but you’re not so sure how nice it is to essentially be edged for too long either. Orgasming is also pretty much out of the picture since you don’t know how long he’d have to recuperate, and you’re pretty sure they want a big cumshot scene.
“It’s up to you. I think I’ll hold out a bit longer, and although I do like it when you do it, I can do it myself if you prefer that?”
Every trace of the teasing Jeongguk is gone and left is just a warm smile and a gentle tilt of his head. He looks so incredibly sweet and kind.
You shake your head, smiling back, “Just let me know if you change your mind, we don’t know how long it’ll take.”
Luckily, it only takes another ten minutes before Wendy comes knocking on Jeongguk’s shoulder where he stands, his arm against the wall and trapping you against it. You’re still jerking him off slowly, but except for his breaths–every one almost like a sigh–you wouldn’t be able to tell.
“We’ll continue this later?” Jeongguk looks at you hopefully as he’s ripping open a new condom with his teeth to roll over his cock, “I wanna hear more about your project. And I also think you should tell them about this job, I think it’s pretty cool.”
You chuckle at his smirk. “No offense, but this job is weird. Not something I typically bring up among colleagues.”
It wasn’t even a job you actively applied for. Your previous neighbor was Jeongguk’s stylist, a job she quit when she moved away a year ago. You were pretty good friends, and when the entire subway system was down once, you took it upon yourself to drive her. She knew you were looking for a part time job and also that Jeongguk was looking for a new assistant, so she recommended it to you.
At first, you declined, but she was very clear that you would not have to partake in anything sexual unless you wanted to and no one would look at you weird for not doing it either. Additionally, the actor was supposed to be a real sweetheart. Which honestly is why you’re still here even after graduating and getting a full time job.
You and Jeongguk continue talking over lunch, sitting on the same couch at the back of the room as earlier. He then goes to shower, having finished the shoot, only to start planning for the next one since he’s taking two days off for a family member’s wedding out of town.
You stay as long as he does, talking to Wendy who’s been running between sets to fill in for another stylist, but the moment after Jeongguk has pulled on his leather jacket and left the room with a warm smile your way, she turns to you.
“Ask him out,” she groans quietly but dramatically, “you’re making everyone else frustrated at this point.”
You blink in surprise. Sure, she’s hinted at you liking him before, but she’s never been this straightforward.
“What?” you reach for your own jacket from the coat rack. “I don’t think he likes me like that. If he did, he would’ve asked me out, we both know him.”
“Oh come on, you can’t be that stupid. You signed a contract saying you don’t want him to touch you, and although he’s not your boss, there’s definitely a power imbalance here. He would, but he doesn’t want to put you in that kind of situation.”
You’ve never really thought about it like that before. Yeah, you know what your contract could signal, but you signed that before you even met him. The power imbalance though, you never really considered that.
“I know that you like him, and he’s obviously in love with you. I mean, you spend every free second on set together. Sure, you keep him hard and such, but as soon as he can, he goes to you, and you retreat into your own little world, just the two of you. And you care way more about him than I’ve seen any other assistant care for their actors.”
You zip up your jacket, then meet Wendy’s eyes sadly. “I do like him, I think he’s… great and really sweet, but… he’s a porn star, Wendy.”
That’s the thing. You never even really entertain the idea of the two of you together for real, because on the off chance that he’s as attracted to you as you are to him, you can’t handle his profession.
Knowing that having sex with other women day in and day out is what pays his bills doesn’t work for you. It makes you feel superficial and shallow for even thinking about it, but the worry it would put into you? Not knowing if he falls for a costar, if he prefers them over you? It would feel like cheating even if you don’t think Jeongguk is the type of man to cheat. And don’t you have the right to feel that way, isn’t it valid to not want your significant other to sleep with others?
Wendy bites her lip looking at you like she understands.
“I just… can’t. Not a porn star.”
“I get it, I just think it’s a shame,” she says, lifting her bag to reveal a small box on the floor.
“Oh, aren’t those Jeongguk’s?” you say, bending down to pick it up, “I’m pretty sure these are his earbuds.”
“They must’ve slipped his pocket,” Wendy concludes.
It’s a warm, sunny day when you step out of your apartment building and head toward the subway. Almost the entire journey, you think about Jeongguk and how you’re looking forward to seeing him again since it’s been a few days. Your hand squeezes the earbuds in the pocket of your denim jacket.
You ride the elevator to the reception, smiling when you spot Yeri behind the monitor.
“Hey, could you tell me where Jeongguk is? I can’t remember which set it is today?” you ask, coming to stand in front of the desk and leaning your hands on it.
Yeri, working mostly as the big boss’ assistant and sometimes filling in as receptionist, clicks on the computer.
“Yeah, they’re in… A20, but, uh… listen, I was told to tell you that you’ve been moved to another actor. If that’s alright with you, both Jimin and Taehyung are looking, Jimin for a fluffer and Taehyung only for an assistant, so you can choose if you want to.”
“Wait,” you say, furrowing your brows. “Moved? From Jeongguk? Why? Did I do something wrong?”
“I don’t think so, there at least isn’t any sort of report or complaint, but as you know, we let the actors decide who they want and allow them to switch, no questions asked.”
“Yeah, I know that, but… I just don’t get why he would…” you trail off, going through the last time you met him in your head.
He was happy. You were happy.
Yeri looks at you with empathy. “You can take the day off if you want to think about it. You’ll still get paid. Or you can visit the guys to see if anyone’s a fit if you’d like?”
Heartbroken, you blink as you try to regain your senses. “I… I think I’ll just head home.”
“Understandable. I wish you a nice day.”
You smile back at her before turning around and with slow steps, approach the elevator. What just happened? Jeongguk… switched you out?
Why?
You put your hands into your pockets as you step back inside the elevator, sighing when you feel the outline of Jeongguk’s earbuds. So, instead of pressing the button for ground floor, you press the 2.
You’ve been on set A20 before, but it was a while ago. It’s a set meant to look just like a regular home, and you think the last time you were there, Jeongguk was playing some sort of handyman or electrician or something.
Reaching for your keycard, you hold it to the reader until the light turns green and the door unlocks with a click. You wouldn’t have entered if it weren’t still so early, knowing they definitely haven’t started shooting yet. But since there’s a relatively low risk of you walking in on someone fucking or something, you open the door.
There’s movement inside as usual. People are fixing the set and equipment, talking to each other, and moving around. That’s when you spot him.
He’s standing in front of Wendy, in nothing but a pair of baggy jeans, as she’s trying to decide on a shirt for him, holding a white t-shirt in front of him before repeating it with a black one and seemingly settling on the latter. You can’t really tell what the script is about, and you weren’t really listening last time, but you don’t care.
Somewhat… nervously, you take a step toward them, letting a small but polite smile pull on your lips when Jeongguk happens to turn his head and spot you. His eyes widen, and you watch as he says something to Wendy, who also turns her head. Does she know why he decided to switch you out?
“Hey,” you start quietly when he’s gotten close enough, Wendy taking the hint and leaving inconspicuously. “You dropped these last time.”
He peers down at your outstretched hand with the earbuds resting in the middle.
“Oh. Thank you.”
“No problem,” you say as he takes them from you to put in the pocket of his jeans. “Jeongguk… Can I ask… Did something happen? Did I do something?”
He looks down at the floor briefly before meeting your eyes. “No, it doesn’t have anything to do with you. I just… decided that I can’t continue working with you like this because I… I have feelings for someone.”
You didn’t think your heart could break like this because of the man in front of you, but something definitely cracks inside your chest.
“Oh. I didn’t know you were… seeing someone? Why didn’t you tell me?” you ask carefully.
“I’m not. At least not yet; it’s pretty new, still. But I hope you can understand that I can’t…”
“Yeah, no, of course. I get it,” you nod.
Suddenly, he smiles gently, “But I heard both Jimin and Tae were looking for someone, and I know either one of them would be happy to have you.”
“Yeah, sure. Look, I gotta go, but good luck with… her? Him?”
“Her.”
You smile, “Good luck with her, I’m rooting for you.”
“Thank you.”
Your smile falls the second you turn away from him. It hurts to know that he’s in love with someone else, but you had your chance, at least to see if he was interested at all, and you didn’t take it. The worst thing is probably knowing that you wouldn’t have acted differently if you had the chance to rewind.
You’re not mad at him, and you truly do wish him luck. It makes sense that he doesn’t feel comfortable being so close to someone else if he’s in love. You’re not really sure what he thinks about still starring in porn, but it’s not your decision to make.
“Still here?”
“Yeah, I just had to return something to someone. But can you do me a favor, Yeri?”
“Sure what is it?” she says, peering at you curiously and resting her chin on her hand.
You breathe in, feeling sad but not very hesitant. “Since my conditions changed, essentially without my input, I can quit on the spot, right? I don’t need the two week notice?”
She smiles sadly at you, “Yeah, you’re right. Do you want to fill out the form right now?”
“Yes, please.”
<previous | next>
author's note: so pls let me know if you like it <3<3
EDIT: there is no taglist
⋆･.˳.⋆JUNGKOOK FANFIC RECOMMENDATIONS
⊹ ᨘ📘˚｡The third part of my fanfic recommendations featuring Golden Makne 💙
Thank you talented writers for your hard work, I really enjoyed each of these works💙
Part 1 and Part 2 of my recommendations which you can also check out 💙
Thank you to the beautiful @saradika-graphics for the delicious divider 🫐
Almost all fanfiction contains explicit adult content, so read at your own risk.
🫐 RISK TASTES LIKE STRAWBERRIES AND THUNDER by @dailynnt
⤷ Jungkook!biker, friend's best brother x f!reader | forbidden feeling | one shot
🫐 “NOT THEIR WEDDING CAR” by @dailynnt
⤷ Jungkook!former classmate x f!reader | from enemies to lovers | one shot
🫐“DIRTY BIKE REPAIR” by @dailynnt
⤷ Jungkook!biker x f!reader | established relationships | one shot
🫐 Soft launch | jk by @keen-li
⤷ jungkook x fem reader | Friends to FWB | mdni
🫐 Every inch of you — Jungkook by @jjeongkii
⤷ dom!jk x reader | one shot
🫐 ִֶָ love wins all ࣪ ִֶָ . by @kooffeecup
⤷ ex boyfriends father ! Jungkook x you | one shot
🫐 somehow, you. | jungkook au by @timelessjk
⤷ jungkook x fem reader | college AU | one shot
🫐 the next step by @tranquilreign
⤷ jungkook/reader | established relationship au! | one shot
🫐 higher power by @jiminrings
⤷ jungkook x reader | one shot
🫐 paint me, play me || jjk by @letsbangts
⤷ jungkook x fem reader | college AU | mdni
🫐 reckless | jjk by @sparklingchim
⤷ idol!jungkook x producer!reader | one shot
🫐 VELVET WAVES — jjk (m.) by @gukcnt
⤷ husband dom!jungkook x wife sub!femreader | one shot
🫐 the mask of purity by @lostinbangtan7
⤷ Jeon Jungkook idol/Y/N famous/artist/singer | series (ongoing)
🫐 ⋆.˚✮𝗕𝗮𝗰𝗸 𝗧𝗮𝘁𝘁𝗼𝗼✮˚.⋆ by @skzstarl0ver
⤷ Jungkook x reader / tattoo artist x client | one shot
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⤷ all works contain NSFW [ 18+ ] / explicit content. do not interact if you are a minor. do not copy, repost on other platforms, translate, or modify my works.
: ̗̀➛ JJK — contain smut. mdni.
✧ one shots
⤷ somehow, you ❀♡✩
He was quiet, you were untouchable. Neither were looking for connection… until he reached for it, and everything changed.
i hit my 100!! thank you guys for the love :(((( i’m still finishing up my next fic. probably gonna post it in a couple of days. (if im not busy 😬 with work) 🩵🩵
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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⋆. 𐙚 ̊ summary: he was the quiet one in class. the type who never talked unless called on, who looked at the world from behind thick-rimmed glasses and stayed out of everyone’s way. you? you were the girl everyone knew. the one who never let anyone in. you weren’t looking for connection, and he wasn’t the kind to ask for it. but still… he did. and somehow, it worked.
ratings: 18+
pairing: jungkook x fem reader
genre: college AU, emotional intimacy, slightly slow burned.
warnings: explicit sexual content including unprotected sex (not advised), soft but possessive dirty talk, emotional vulnerability, praise, mild insecurity and reassurance, and a rough but tender dynamic in an established relationship. and ofc…big dicc jungkook cause UGH.
word count: 5.2k
a/n: hi! ok so. this is my very first fic i’m posting and i’m actually kind of losing my mind about it?? originally it was supposed to be two parts (pt.1 soft, pt.2 smut) but i got carried away and ended up writing it all in one go because i wouldn’t shut up abt this two!!
*banners/dividers credits to the owners ♡ ྀི
thank you for reading!! leave your comments on what u think of my first fic 🥺! 🤍 - Sher
requests are officially opened!
The classroom always smelled like old air and pen inks, a familiar background hum to every forgettable weekday morning.
You sat at the back, as always, where you could stretch your legs, twirl your pen, and zone out without anyone bothering you. People knew you, too well.
Not because you tried, but because the world couldn’t help but notice the girl who always seemed a little untouchable.
Then the teacher changed the seating plan.
“Jeon Jungkook. You’re moving to the back, beside her.”
A ripple of murmurs went through the class, subtle but present. You could feel the stares. You looked up just in time to see him glance nervously your way before lowering his eyes and walking toward the seat beside you.
Jungkook. Everyone knew who he was, even if he rarely spoke. Top of the class. Never late. Always dressed clean, minimal, quiet. You didn’t expect anything from him. Didn’t need another nerdy guy going stiff just because you shared a desk.
But that day, he surprised you.
He sat down carefully, barely making a sound, and opened his book. No fidgeting. No glances. Just… stillness. Until you heard the smallest breath of a murmur.
“Chapter’s interesting,” he said, eyes still on the page.
You blinked.
“What?”
He didn’t flinch. “The reading. It’s good. Surprising, kind of.”
You studied him, confused. He hadn’t even looked at you. It was like he wasn’t trying to talk to you—just thinking aloud, and you happened to hear.
You didn’t answer.
But your curiosity flickered.
⋆. 𐙚 ̊⊹ꮺ˚
The next few days, he didn’t speak again. But he was always on time. Always with his notebook perfectly aligned. Always glancing at your desk when he thought you weren’t looking—quick, nervous flicks of his eyes.
Then came the Wednesday.
You’d forgotten your pens, bag full of it. Not on purpose—just one of those mornings where you left everything behind. You muttered something under your breath, frustrated, and slammed your bag down.
Before you could think to dig through your things again, a sleek black pen rolled across your desk.
You turned. Jungkook was still facing forward, penless himself now.
“You sure?” you asked, surprised.
He nodded once. “I have another.”
You waited for a smile. A joke. Some kind of flirtation.
Nothing.
Just a calm silence.
It threw you off more than someone asking for your number ever could.
Then came the Thursday rainstorm.
You stayed behind after class, waiting for it to ease, stuck at the school’s entrance while thunder rumbled in the distance. Everyone else had already left, except for him.
He walked up beside you without a word, holding an umbrella. For a second, you thought he was going to walk past.
He hesitated.
“You live near East Gate, right?” he asked, voice low, eyes on the rain.
You narrowed your eyes. “How do you know that?”
He shrugged. “I’ve seen you leave that way. Every day.”
You didn’t answer.
He tilted the umbrella slightly toward you. “Come on.”
You stared at him like he’d grown two heads. But you followed.
⋆. 𐙚 ̊⊹ꮺ˚
That walk changed everything.
He didn’t try to impress you. Didn’t pry. Just walked beside you, holding the umbrella with quiet precision to make sure it covered you both.
When you reached your turn, you stopped.
“Why’re you doing this?” you asked, genuinely confused.
He paused. Looked at you for the first time, really looked—eyes soft behind his wet fringe.
“Because you look like no one ever asks how you’re doing,” he said. “And i kind of want to.”
You stood frozen as he walked away, raindrops hitting your shoulders after the umbrella disappeared with him down the path.
⋆. 𐙚 ̊⊹ꮺ˚
From then on, he became your quiet shadow.
Always beside you in class. Always one step behind in the hallway. But not in a clingy way. He respected your space but showed up when it mattered.
One morning, you came in late, eyes puffy from a night you didn’t want to talk about. You slumped into your chair, hoodie up, bare faced (that rarely happens whenever you go to class) sleeves tugged over your hands.
He didn’t say anything.
But when you finally looked at your desk, there was a folded note, written in perfect; clean handwriting.
“It’s okay to have days like this. You’re allowed to fall apart sometimes. I’ve got notes if you need them.”
You folded the paper slowly. Pressed your lips together. And something inside you melted.
You weren’t used to being seen like that.
You weren’t used to someone not asking for anything in return.
That day, you turned to him and whispered, “Thanks.” giving him a small smile.
He looked up, startled, as if he wasn’t expecting you to respond.
And smiled, unsure, but real.
⋆. 𐙚 ̊⊹ꮺ˚
You think to yourself, you might fell for him. Maybe. Which is a weird feeling to you.
Given that you both barely have a proper (real) conversation.
Well you did exchange numbers—that’s because you both somehow were assigned to work together, so Jungkook thought it would be better to interact outside of class.
For study purpose of course.
Eventually both of you did text one another—occasionally. Just short texts nothing conversation worthy.
Yeah, you felt this weird butterflies.
But, you didn’t fall all at once.
It happened slowly. Over study sessions you didn’t consider were study sessions, coffee walks that became routines, quiet texts late at night when he’d ask, “Did you eat today?” and not stop asking until you said yes.
Over the time, during study sessions, you found yourself laughing around him. Trusting him.
Letting your guard down without realizing it had dropped.
One night, you asked through text, in your bed, loneliness crept again, “You know i’m kind of… a mess, right?”
He replied few seconds too fast.
“I know,” he said. “But you’re the kind of mess that makes sense to me.”
And you fell.
Quietly. Completely.
⋆. 𐙚 ̊⊹ꮺ˚
You weren’t sure when the lines blurred—when study sessions became excuses to sit a little closer, when shared coffee turned into shared glances, when “see you tomorrow” carried the weight of don’t forget me.
Jungkook didn’t rush anything. He never did.
But one Friday, something shifted.
He caught up with you after class, his hoodie sleeves pushed halfway up, headphones around his neck, looking nervous in a way that made your heart weirdly ache.
“Hey,” he said, walking beside you. “There’s this exhibition at the design building… the one with digital installations. I thought—maybe you’d like it.”
You turned to look at him. “You inviting me?”
He nodded, looking at the floor. “If you want. No pressure. It’s tomorrow.”
You almost teased him. Almost said something sarcastic just to keep things from feeling too serious. But something in the way he looked—open, nervous, sincere—made you soften.
“Yeah,” you said. “I’d like that.”
⋆. 𐙚 ̊⊹ꮺ˚
The exhibition was small. Quiet. Dreamy.
Digital light shifted across the walls like watercolor in motion. Projected clouds drifted across the floor.
Every room had its own ambient sound—soft, electronic music and echoing whispers. It should’ve felt awkward, being alone together in that hush.
But with him, it didn’t.
You stood in one of the installations surrounded by cascading lines of digital rain, blue and silver glowing all around and he looked at you like he wanted to remember the moment.
“I like this,” you said quietly.
He glanced at the ceiling, then back at you. “Me too.”
A beat passed.
“Honestly… i didn’t know if you’d say yes,” he admitted. “To coming here.”
You tilted your head. “Why not?”
He looked at you. “Because i’m not like the other people you talk to.”
“You mean the loud ones? I don’t talk to just anyone, anymore. Besides, didn’t we spend a good amount of time together for the past month to be considered as…friends?”
He smiled, barely. “Yeah. The ones who know what to say. And yeah i knew that but still, i thought it was just a study session, coffee catch ups with you—that you’d rather spend your time with your other…friends.”
You shifted your weight. “Maybe i got tired of people who always know what to say and FYI—i’d rather spend my time with you.”
Silence.
Just the sound of soft electronic rainfall.
Then he said it—so low you almost missed it:
“I really like being around you.”
You turned to him, heart suddenly too loud in your chest.
He’s so dreamy, handsome.
“I really like being around you too.”
And he looked at you like you’d just said the one thing he’d been waiting to hear.
⋆. 𐙚 ̊⊹ꮺ˚
Your first kiss wasn’t at the exhibition.
That night had already held enough. The way he kept sneaking glances at you while pretending to read the plaque beside a sculpture, the way his hand hovered close to yours but never quite touched.
You walked the whole gallery like that, quiet but full of something neither of you wanted to name yet.
Later, he offered to walk you home. You said yes.
The air was cold but not bitter, the city dim and quiet in that in-between hour.
Your footsteps echoed against the pavement, your breath blooming white in the air. He kept his hands in his coat pockets, close but not brushing yours.
“Did you like the exhibit?” he asked, his voice low and a little shy.
“I did,” you said. “But i think i liked walking around with you more.”
He turned his head slightly, surprised. “Yeah?”
You nodded, not looking at him. “It was… nice. I don’t usually do things like that. With people.”
Jungkook was quiet for a moment. Then “You mean dates?”
You blinked. “Was this a date?”
His voice went even softer. “I wanted it to be.”
You stopped walking. Your apartment was just ahead, but you didn’t want to go in yet. The moment felt full.
Suspended.
He looked at you, eyes searching. “Can I be honest?”
You tilted your head. “Aren’t you always?” you giggled.
He smiled faintly. “I think about you a lot more than i should.”
You swallowed. “What does that mean?”
“It means i’ve liked you for a while. Even before you started talking to me.”
“You’re not exactly… forward, you know.”
“I didn’t think i was your type.”
“You’re not,” you said simply. “At least, not what i thought my type was.”
His expression didn’t change much, but you saw the flicker of hope behind his eyes.
You glanced down at your keys, twisting them between your fingers. “You’ve been patient with me.”
“I don’t mind waiting,” he said. “But sometimes i think… i just want to know if i’m the only one feeling this.”
You looked at him then. Really looked.
His scarf was wrapped high, almost to his mouth. His cheeks were pink from the cold, eyes warm, uncertain, but wide open.
He wasn’t trying to be smooth. He wasn’t trying to win. He was just there, telling you the truth.
Then slowly and tentatively, he stepped closer, his breath shallow.
His voice barely carried “Can I kiss you?”
You felt everything in you pause.
And then “Yeah,” you said softly, heart pounding.
“Yeah, you can.”
He didn’t hesitate after that. He leaned in, hand rising to your cheek, thumb brushing gently across your skin. His lips met yours in a kiss that was soft, slow, careful.
He was learning something sacred; he didn’t want to rush what he’d waited so long to feel.
When he pulled back, your lips still tingled from the warmth of him, your chest full and fluttering.
You smiled, breath curling in the air. “You always this careful?”
His voice was low, but sure. “Only when it’s important.”
And you knew, right then, it was.
You didn’t talk much after that kiss.
Not because it was awkward. Because it wasn’t. It was the kind of silence that wrapped itself around you like a blanket. Soft, steady, enough.
He waited for you to open the door. Didn’t push. Just gave you that small smile, the one he only ever gave you and said, “Text me when you’re inside.”
You nodded, stepped in, and closed the door.
Then leaned your forehead against it.
You were in trouble.
⋆. 𐙚 ̊⊹ꮺ˚
The next few days were different in all the ways that mattered.
You still sat beside each other in class. Still studied together in the library. But now there were new things. A small, subtle shifts.
His knee brushed against yours and didn’t move. He’d lean in when he spoke, voice softer. You’d catch him looking at you, and this time, you didn’t look away.
You weren’t used to this version of yourself; unguarded. And Jungkook, for all his quietness, seemed to understand that.
He never rushed you. Never asked “what are we?” or “where is this going?”
He just stayed.
⋆. 𐙚 ̊⊹ꮺ˚
It wasn’t planned.
The day had been normal. Classes, campus noise, another group project that had you rolling your eyes while Jungkook just quietly took notes. He always took notes, even when no one else cared. You liked that about him. You’d never told him.
You were both walking back from campus, the sky soft with evening gray, when it started to drizzle.
Jungkook held his bag over your head.
You laughed. “You know i’m not gonna melt, right?”
He just looked down at you. “You’re still cold when it rains. You get quiet.”
You didn’t answer. Mostly because he was right. You did get quiet.
And he noticed.
By the time you reached your apartment, your hair was damp, and your mood had shifted. You weren’t sad—just heavy.
One of those days. You didn’t say much as you opened the door and let him in.
Jungkook toed off his shoes carefully, still holding that nervous energy he always carried when he was in your space. You dropped your keys in the bowl by the door and stood in the kitchen, hands on the counter.
“Want tea?” you asked.
He nodded. “Yeah. That’d be nice.”
The silence between you was soft. Not tense. Just full of all the things you weren’t ready to say out loud. You made tea. He sat at the table. You sat across from him, knees brushing under the wood.
Then, out of nowhere, you said it.
“I don’t let people in.”
He looked up, startled. You weren’t looking at him—just staring into your mug.
“I don’t know how to do that,” you continued. “It’s easier when no one expects anything.”
A long pause. Then:
“I never expected anything,” he said.
You finally looked at him. He looked… calm. A little sad. But calm.
“I just liked being around you.”
You nodded slowly. “You still do?”
“Yeah,” he said. “Even more now.”
The air between you shifted. Slowed. Deepened.
And you whispered, “Stay tonight?”
He didn’t ask questions. Didn’t assume.
He just said, “Okay.”
⋆. 𐙚 ̊⊹ꮺ˚
You sat on the floor of your bedroom while he changed into the extra clothes you gave him. A quiet hum played from the speaker, barely audible.
When he stepped back into the room; barefoot, hoodie sleeves pushed up, eyes soft, you suddenly felt that aching fear again.
What if you messed this up?
What if it didn’t last?
And then he crossed the room and knelt in front of you.
His hand rested gently on your knee. “You don’t have to be anything for me,” he said quietly. “You don’t have to perform. Or smile. Or fix anything.”
You looked down at your lap, fighting the warmth in your throat.
“I don’t know how to do this,” you admitted.
“I’ll wait while you figure it out,” he said.
Just like that.
No grand declaration. No demand. Just steady, honest patience.
You reached for his hand.
Held it.
And when you finally crawled into bed beside him, there was no space left between you. You pressed your back to his chest, his arm wrapping loosely around your waist. His breath tickled your shoulder.
“You okay?” he whispered.
“Yeah,” you whispered back.
And you meant it.
You woke to the quiet shift of fabric. The soft sound of him sitting up beside you.
Morning light filtered through the curtains in a pale blur. Your back was still warm from where his arm had rested. You blinked slowly, your mind caught between dreams and now.
Jungkook was already awake, hoodie wrinkled, hair messy from sleep.
He was sitting at the edge of the bed, elbows resting on his knees, his hands fidgeting with the hem of his sleeve.
He looked like he was thinking too loud.
You propped yourself up on your elbow. “Hey,” you said, voice scratchy.
He turned to you immediately, like he’d been waiting. “Hey,” he echoed. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
You sat up slowly, pulling the blanket around your shoulders. “You okay?”
He nodded. Then shook his head. Then let out a quiet breath, like he wasn’t sure how to start.
“Can i ask you something?” he said softly.
You stilled, heart already beginning to tap faster in your chest. “Yeah.”
He looked down at his hands, picking at a loose thread on the cuff of his sleeve.
“I don’t want to ruin anything. I’m not trying to pressure you,” he started, voice careful. “But… what are we?”
You didn’t answer right away.
His eyes lifted. “I just…last night meant something to me. You mean something to me. And i know you don’t let people in easily. So i don’t want to assume anything, but i also don’t want to keep pretending this is just… nothing.”
You watched him for a moment, your throat tight.
“I didn’t think you’d ask,” you murmured.
“Why not?”
“Because you’re usually the quiet one. The patient one.”
“I still am,” he said. “But being patient doesn’t mean I’m not feeling things too.”
You swallowed, fingers tugging at the edge of the blanket. “I’m not good at this. I don’t know how to explain what i feel when i’m with you. It’s new. And a little scary.”
He nodded slowly. “Same.”
You looked at him. “But i don’t want it to be nothing either.”
Jungkook’s expression softened. “Yeah?”
You nodded, quieter this time. “Yeah.”
He shifted closer, his knee bumping gently against yours. “Then maybe… we don’t have to label it yet. But I just needed to know i wasn’t alone in it.”
“You’re not,” you said.
You meant it.
Jungkook exhaled a breath he’d been holding. Then reached out, tentative at first and he curls his fingers around yours.
“Okay,” he said, voice warm now. “Then i’m yours. However long it takes.”
You smiled, eyes stinging just a little. “You’re really not what i expected.”
He grinned—finally, fully. “I get that a lot.”
And in the quiet that followed, your fingers remained laced with his. Simple. Certain.
And for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel like you had to run.
It had been a month.
One month since Jungkook had leaned across your front step and kissed you like it mattered. Since he’d touched your face like he was afraid you’d vanish if he blinked too fast.
And somehow, things still felt new. Still soft. Still unreal in moments like now, with him sprawled across your bed in a hoodie, reading on his stomach, feet swaying behind him like a kid.
You were half-working on an assignment, half-watching him.
“You’re staring,” he said without looking up.
“I’m admiring,” you corrected.
He turned his head just enough to catch your smirk, then gave a small smile. “Baby,” he said under his breath, “you’re distracting.”
“You like it,” you replied, nudging his leg with your foot.
He hummed. “I do.”
⋆. 𐙚 ̊⊹ꮺ˚
Your relationship had grown into something… daily. Quiet rituals that made your chest ache. He’d walk you to class with your fingers looped in his sleeve. He’d wait for you outside the library, sipping iced coffee and reading the latest novel you lent him. You started wearing his hoodies without asking. He stopped looking surprised when you kissed his cheek mid-sentence.
But even with the sweetness, there was still something unspoken hanging between you.
Something warmer. Heavier.
Like tonight.
He was still lying on your bed when you finally gave up pretending to work and climbed over him, plopping yourself beside his back with a sigh.
He closed his book and peeked at you. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” you murmured. “You’re just comfy.”
He let out a soft laugh. “You say that every time you use me as a pillow.”
“Because it’s true, baby.”
You shifted, laying your head against his back. Your palm flattened over his spine.
Jungkook went still for a second—then melted.
“Do you…” you hesitated, unsure why your throat suddenly felt tight, “do you ever want to do more than just lie here?”
He was silent for a moment.
Then, softly: “Yeah. I do.”
You sat up a little, just enough to look at him.
His cheeks were already flushed.
“I just never know if you’re comfortable,” intertwining your fingers together.
“Or if you want to. I’ve never really… gotten this far before.” he added.
You blinked. “You haven’t?”
He shook his head. “I’ve dated a few, but it never got serious. And no one ever really looked at me like you do.”
That last part made your chest squeeze.
“You mean like you hung the stars?” you teased gently.
He smiled, eyes shy. “Kind of, yeah.”
You reached out, brushing your fingers through his hair. “You’re not the only nervous one, baby.”
“I’m not?”
You shook your head. “I’ve been with my fair share of…flings? boyfriends?, whatever you wanna call it—but it never felt right nor did it worked out, obviously. It always felt like they expected something from me. You don’t.”
Jungkook shifted, sitting up properly now. You were both facing each other, legs crossed.
“Can i ask you something?” he said quietly.
You nodded.
His voice was careful. “If we… wanted to try something. Anything. Would you tell me if you weren’t ready?”
“Always,” you promised.
He reached forward, brushing a thumb against your cheek. “Okay.”
You leaned into his palm.
And after a beat, you whispered, “Would you kiss me now?”
His lips twitched. “I’d give you anything you want.”
When he kissed you—slow and warm, one hand still cupping your jaw—it felt like everything in the world slowed down. Like it was just you and him, tangled in hush and trust.
You shifted closer, your hand slipping beneath the hem of his hoodie, resting just above his waistband. You felt him freeze, just slightly.
“Too much?” you whispered.
“No,” he breathed. “Just new.”
You smiled into the kiss. “We’ll take it slow.”
“Promise?” he breathes into the kiss.
“Promise.”
And when he pulled you fully into his lap, burying his face in your neck with a soft laugh, it felt like something more than new.
It happened on a night that didn’t feel special; no candles, no dramatic music, just the two of you in your room after dinner, legs tangled on your bed, warm with laughter and full from pasta Jungkook had insisted on cooking himself.
He was wearing gray sweatpants and one of your oversized shirts, sleeves pushed up, his hair messily falling across his forehead.
You had just pulled him down for a kiss. Playful, slow.
But then it lingered. Deepened.
And something shifted.
His tongue slipped against yours, deliberate. His hand came up to cup the back of your neck, pulling you closer like he couldn’t help himself anymore.
When you whimpered against his lips, he pulled back slightly, gaze heavy-lidded.
“You okay?” he asked, voice low and rough.
You nodded, breathless. “Yeah. Just… wasn’t expecting you to kiss me like that.”
He brushed your cheek with his thumb. “Like what?”
“Like you’ve been waiting to.”
“I have been,” he murmured. “For so fucking long.”
Your chest tightened, breath caught in your throat.
“We’ve kissed many, many times before?,” you giggled.
And then his lips was on yours again, more desperate this time. No teasing. No question.
Jungkook leaned over you, pressing you into the mattress, his body slotting between your thighs like it was instinct.
You felt how hard he was through the thin fabric of your shorts. He wasn’t trying to hide it. He wanted you to feel it.
“Jungkook,” you breathed, tugging at his shirt. “Please.”
He sat back just enough to yank it over his head, chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. “You sure?”
“Baby,” you said, reaching for him again, “I’ve never been more sure.”
Something in his expression cracked open at that relief, hunger, something fierce and protective all at once.
“Then let me have you,” he said, voice dark, breath ragged. “Let me fuck you like you deserve.”
The way he said it; need dripping into every syllable made your whole body shudder.
He tugged your shorts down fast, your panties going with them. When you gasped, he kissed the inside of your thigh, then hovered over you again, his cock straining visibly in his sweats.
“God,” he whispered, eyes raking over you. “You’re so fucking pretty like this. Laid out for me.”
Your hands reached for him, desperate. “I want you, Jungkook. I don’t wanna wait.”
“You won’t,” he said, voice curling around you like silk and smoke.
He shoved his pants down just enough to free himself, stroking himself slowly as he stared at you.
“You’ve got no idea what you do to me,” he murmured. “No idea how long i’ve wanted to be inside you.”
You reached between your legs, spreading yourself open for him.
His mouth dropped open slightly. “Fuck.”
He lined himself up, eyes locked on yours. “Tell me if i go too fast, okay?”
You nodded, heart hammering. “I trust you.”
That did something to him.
He pushed in slow, deep, all at once.
Your breath hitched, legs trembling.
“Holy fuck,” Jungkook groaned, head falling to your shoulder. “You feel like heaven. So wet for me already.”
You clung to him, nails dragging lightly down his back.
“Move,” you gasped. “I need you.”
He obeyed without hesitation, pulling back, then slamming into you again with a rhythm that made your head spin.
It was hard and deep. Not rushed, but intentional. Like he knew exactly how to tear you apart and put you back together.
“Baby,” he breathed, panting against your throat, “you’re taking me so well.”
You moaned, legs tightening around him.
“You always this tight, or is it just for me?”
“Only you,” you choked out, voice cracking. “Only ever been like this for you.”
That made him growl.
“You feel perfect. Like you’re made for me.”
Every thrust dragged a whimper from your lips. Every kiss to your neck made you melt further under him.
You could feel how careful he was, even in the roughness. Like he wanted you to feel claimed, but not hurt. Never that.
“You like when i talk like this?” he asked, voice low in your ear.
“Yes,” you moaned. “Fuck, Jungkook.”
“You make me lose my mind, princess. Got me thinking about you all day. Couldn’t wait to fuck you full of my come inside.”
Your back arched, nails digging into his shoulders.
He shifted his hips, angling deeper. “You gonna come for me like this? Gonna come on my cock hm?”
You nodded desperately, tears brimming at the corners of your eyes. “Yes….don’t stop.”
“Look at me,” he whispered.
You did.
And in the silence that followed, he slowed down, but pressed in deep and stayed there.
His body trembled above yours, like he was holding something back—not just his release, but something heavier.
You cupped his cheek gently. “Jungkook?”
His voice broke.
“I love you,” he whispered; then again, faster, almost panicked. “I love you so much it’s scaring me.”
You stared up at him, eyes wide.
“I—” His throat worked as he swallowed, his brows drawn tight with emotion. “I never thought i’d have this. You. I never thought someone like you would ever even look at me.”
“Jungkook—”
“I used to watch you,” he continued, voice cracking. “In class. You were always so confident. So distant. But then you sat next to me—God, i still remember the way you looked that day. I thought it was a joke. Like there’s no way you would sit beside me.”
Your chest ached. He kept going.
“But you did. You stayed. You talked to me. You let me see pieces of you no one else gets to. And i still don’t know why. I still think maybe you’ll wake up and realize you could do better and just… leave.”
You shook your head, eyes stinging.
“But you don’t,” he whispered. “You stay. You’re patient with me when i get quiet. When i don’t know what to say. You still kiss me like i matter.”
His voice dropped lower, barely a breath.
“I don’t know what i did to deserve you. But fuck—i’m so glad you exist. I’m so glad you sat next to me.”
Your lips parted, but nothing came out.
He saw the silence as hesitation, and something in his face crumpled.
“It’s okay,” he said quickly, pulling back just slightly. “You don’t have to say it back. I just….i needed you to know. Even if i’m not what you expected. Even if I’m not enough.”
And that’s when it hit you.
This boy; this quiet, brilliant, soft-hearted boy had been holding it in for months.
You surged up and kissed him.
Not soft. Not gentle.
You kissed him like you were giving him an answer.
He gasped against your lips when you pulled away.
“I love you,” you whispered. “Are you kidding? You’re everything.”
He blinked, stunned.
“I didn’t say it sooner because i was scared i’d ruin this,” you said. “But Jungkook… you are everything i could ever ask for.”
He let out a shaky breath—half a laugh, half a sob—and kissed you again, deeper this time. Needy. Grateful.
You weren’t sure what hurt more. The way he was moving inside you, or the way he was looking at you.
Like you were a miracle.
Like you were something he’d never believed he could have.
Every thrust was deep, steady, but trembling with emotion. He was holding on for dear life. His forehead pressed to yours, sweat on his brow, his breath hot and uneven.
“God,” Jungkook groaned, voice raw, “you feel so good, too good.”
You cupped his face again, thumbs brushing over his flushed cheeks. “You can let go. i’ve got you.”
But he didn’t. Not yet.
“I don’t want this to end,” he whispered. “I don’t want us to end.”
“We won’t,” you said softly. “I’m right here.”
He choked on a breath, hips stuttering. “I’ve never… never loved anyone like this.”
You nodded, tears welling. “Me either.”
And still, he didn’t stop moving. He couldn’t; not when your body clung to his like a prayer, not when your nails curled against his back, not when your lips parted with little gasps that sounded like his name.
“Let go, baby,” you whispered. “I want you to come inside. Cmon baby.”
His pace faltered; sharper, desperate. “Can’t believe you’re mine,” he breathed. “Can’t believe it’s you.”
Then, with a deep groan against your neck, he finally gave in—shuddering in your arms, body tensing, spilling into you like it was all too much and not enough at once.
You held him through it.
Through the tremble in his limbs.
Through the whispered “I love you” that followed on the heels release. Ropes of come dripping out as he pulls out slowly then inside again. You moaned at the sensation.
He didn’t move for a while—just stayed there, inside you, wrapped around you, like he couldn’t stand to lose the warmth.
“I’m not going anywhere,” you whispered, stroking his hair. “You don’t have to hold on so tight.”
He nuzzled into your shoulder. “I want to, though.”
“I know,” you smiled. “Me too.”
Eventually, he shifted, settling beside you, your bodies still tangled beneath the blankets.
The silence was heavy but comforting. No more fear. No more holding back.
Just breathing. Together.
You turned to look at him, and he was already watching you.
“What?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper.
He traced your jaw with his thumb, eyes soft.
“Out of everyone in this whole world… somehow, it was you.”
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⋆. 𐙚 ̊ summary: he was the quiet one in class. the type who never talked unless called on, who looked at the world from behind thick-rimmed glasses and stayed out of everyone’s way. you? you were the girl everyone knew. the one who never let anyone in. you weren’t looking for connection, and he wasn’t the kind to ask for it. but still… he did. and somehow, it worked.
ratings: 18+
pairing: jungkook x fem reader
genre: college AU, emotional intimacy, slightly slow burned.
warnings: explicit sexual content including unprotected sex (not advised), soft but possessive dirty talk, emotional vulnerability, praise, mild insecurity and reassurance, and a rough but tender dynamic in an established relationship. and ofc…big dicc jungkook cause UGH.
word count: 5.2k
a/n: hi! ok so. this is my very first fic i’m posting and i’m actually kind of losing my mind about it?? originally it was supposed to be two parts (pt.1 soft, pt.2 smut) but i got carried away and ended up writing it all in one go because i wouldn’t shut up abt this two!!
*banners/dividers credits to the owners ♡ ྀི
thank you for reading!! leave your comments on what u think of my first fic 🥺! 🤍 - Sher
requests are officially opened!
The classroom always smelled like old air and pen inks, a familiar background hum to every forgettable weekday morning.
You sat at the back, as always, where you could stretch your legs, twirl your pen, and zone out without anyone bothering you. People knew you, too well.
Not because you tried, but because the world couldn’t help but notice the girl who always seemed a little untouchable.
Then the teacher changed the seating plan.
“Jeon Jungkook. You’re moving to the back, beside her.”
A ripple of murmurs went through the class, subtle but present. You could feel the stares. You looked up just in time to see him glance nervously your way before lowering his eyes and walking toward the seat beside you.
Jungkook. Everyone knew who he was, even if he rarely spoke. Top of the class. Never late. Always dressed clean, minimal, quiet. You didn’t expect anything from him. Didn’t need another nerdy guy going stiff just because you shared a desk.
But that day, he surprised you.
He sat down carefully, barely making a sound, and opened his book. No fidgeting. No glances. Just… stillness. Until you heard the smallest breath of a murmur.
“Chapter’s interesting,” he said, eyes still on the page.
You blinked.
“What?”
He didn’t flinch. “The reading. It’s good. Surprising, kind of.”
You studied him, confused. He hadn’t even looked at you. It was like he wasn’t trying to talk to you—just thinking aloud, and you happened to hear.
You didn’t answer.
But your curiosity flickered.
⋆. 𐙚 ̊⊹ꮺ˚
The next few days, he didn’t speak again. But he was always on time. Always with his notebook perfectly aligned. Always glancing at your desk when he thought you weren’t looking—quick, nervous flicks of his eyes.
Then came the Wednesday.
You’d forgotten your pens, bag full of it. Not on purpose—just one of those mornings where you left everything behind. You muttered something under your breath, frustrated, and slammed your bag down.
Before you could think to dig through your things again, a sleek black pen rolled across your desk.
You turned. Jungkook was still facing forward, penless himself now.
“You sure?” you asked, surprised.
He nodded once. “I have another.”
You waited for a smile. A joke. Some kind of flirtation.
Nothing.
Just a calm silence.
It threw you off more than someone asking for your number ever could.
Then came the Thursday rainstorm.
You stayed behind after class, waiting for it to ease, stuck at the school’s entrance while thunder rumbled in the distance. Everyone else had already left, except for him.
He walked up beside you without a word, holding an umbrella. For a second, you thought he was going to walk past.
He hesitated.
“You live near East Gate, right?” he asked, voice low, eyes on the rain.
You narrowed your eyes. “How do you know that?”
He shrugged. “I’ve seen you leave that way. Every day.”
You didn’t answer.
He tilted the umbrella slightly toward you. “Come on.”
You stared at him like he’d grown two heads. But you followed.
⋆. 𐙚 ̊⊹ꮺ˚
That walk changed everything.
He didn’t try to impress you. Didn’t pry. Just walked beside you, holding the umbrella with quiet precision to make sure it covered you both.
When you reached your turn, you stopped.
“Why’re you doing this?” you asked, genuinely confused.
He paused. Looked at you for the first time, really looked—eyes soft behind his wet fringe.
“Because you look like no one ever asks how you’re doing,” he said. “And i kind of want to.”
You stood frozen as he walked away, raindrops hitting your shoulders after the umbrella disappeared with him down the path.
⋆. 𐙚 ̊⊹ꮺ˚
From then on, he became your quiet shadow.
Always beside you in class. Always one step behind in the hallway. But not in a clingy way. He respected your space but showed up when it mattered.
One morning, you came in late, eyes puffy from a night you didn’t want to talk about. You slumped into your chair, hoodie up, bare faced (that rarely happens whenever you go to class) sleeves tugged over your hands.
He didn’t say anything.
But when you finally looked at your desk, there was a folded note, written in perfect; clean handwriting.
“It’s okay to have days like this. You’re allowed to fall apart sometimes. I’ve got notes if you need them.”
You folded the paper slowly. Pressed your lips together. And something inside you melted.
You weren’t used to being seen like that.
You weren’t used to someone not asking for anything in return.
That day, you turned to him and whispered, “Thanks.” giving him a small smile.
He looked up, startled, as if he wasn’t expecting you to respond.
And smiled, unsure, but real.
⋆. 𐙚 ̊⊹ꮺ˚
You think to yourself, you might fell for him. Maybe. Which is a weird feeling to you.
Given that you both barely have a proper (real) conversation.
Well you did exchange numbers—that’s because you both somehow were assigned to work together, so Jungkook thought it would be better to interact outside of class.
For study purpose of course.
Eventually both of you did text one another—occasionally. Just short texts nothing conversation worthy.
Yeah, you felt this weird butterflies.
But, you didn’t fall all at once.
It happened slowly. Over study sessions you didn’t consider were study sessions, coffee walks that became routines, quiet texts late at night when he’d ask, “Did you eat today?” and not stop asking until you said yes.
Over the time, during study sessions, you found yourself laughing around him. Trusting him.
Letting your guard down without realizing it had dropped.
One night, you asked through text, in your bed, loneliness crept again, “You know i’m kind of… a mess, right?”
He replied few seconds too fast.
“I know,” he said. “But you’re the kind of mess that makes sense to me.”
And you fell.
Quietly. Completely.
⋆. 𐙚 ̊⊹ꮺ˚
You weren’t sure when the lines blurred—when study sessions became excuses to sit a little closer, when shared coffee turned into shared glances, when “see you tomorrow” carried the weight of don’t forget me.
Jungkook didn’t rush anything. He never did.
But one Friday, something shifted.
He caught up with you after class, his hoodie sleeves pushed halfway up, headphones around his neck, looking nervous in a way that made your heart weirdly ache.
“Hey,” he said, walking beside you. “There’s this exhibition at the design building… the one with digital installations. I thought—maybe you’d like it.”
You turned to look at him. “You inviting me?”
He nodded, looking at the floor. “If you want. No pressure. It’s tomorrow.”
You almost teased him. Almost said something sarcastic just to keep things from feeling too serious. But something in the way he looked—open, nervous, sincere—made you soften.
“Yeah,” you said. “I’d like that.”
⋆. 𐙚 ̊⊹ꮺ˚
The exhibition was small. Quiet. Dreamy.
Digital light shifted across the walls like watercolor in motion. Projected clouds drifted across the floor.
Every room had its own ambient sound—soft, electronic music and echoing whispers. It should’ve felt awkward, being alone together in that hush.
But with him, it didn’t.
You stood in one of the installations surrounded by cascading lines of digital rain, blue and silver glowing all around and he looked at you like he wanted to remember the moment.
“I like this,” you said quietly.
He glanced at the ceiling, then back at you. “Me too.”
A beat passed.
“Honestly… i didn’t know if you’d say yes,” he admitted. “To coming here.”
You tilted your head. “Why not?”
He looked at you. “Because i’m not like the other people you talk to.”
“You mean the loud ones? I don’t talk to just anyone, anymore. Besides, didn’t we spend a good amount of time together for the past month to be considered as…friends?”
He smiled, barely. “Yeah. The ones who know what to say. And yeah i knew that but still, i thought it was just a study session, coffee catch ups with you—that you’d rather spend your time with your other…friends.”
You shifted your weight. “Maybe i got tired of people who always know what to say and FYI—i’d rather spend my time with you.”
Silence.
Just the sound of soft electronic rainfall.
Then he said it—so low you almost missed it:
“I really like being around you.”
You turned to him, heart suddenly too loud in your chest.
He’s so dreamy, handsome.
“I really like being around you too.”
And he looked at you like you’d just said the one thing he’d been waiting to hear.
⋆. 𐙚 ̊⊹ꮺ˚
Your first kiss wasn’t at the exhibition.
That night had already held enough. The way he kept sneaking glances at you while pretending to read the plaque beside a sculpture, the way his hand hovered close to yours but never quite touched.
You walked the whole gallery like that, quiet but full of something neither of you wanted to name yet.
Later, he offered to walk you home. You said yes.
The air was cold but not bitter, the city dim and quiet in that in-between hour.
Your footsteps echoed against the pavement, your breath blooming white in the air. He kept his hands in his coat pockets, close but not brushing yours.
“Did you like the exhibit?” he asked, his voice low and a little shy.
“I did,” you said. “But i think i liked walking around with you more.”
He turned his head slightly, surprised. “Yeah?”
You nodded, not looking at him. “It was… nice. I don’t usually do things like that. With people.”
Jungkook was quiet for a moment. Then “You mean dates?”
You blinked. “Was this a date?”
His voice went even softer. “I wanted it to be.”
You stopped walking. Your apartment was just ahead, but you didn’t want to go in yet. The moment felt full.
Suspended.
He looked at you, eyes searching. “Can I be honest?”
You tilted your head. “Aren’t you always?” you giggled.
He smiled faintly. “I think about you a lot more than i should.”
You swallowed. “What does that mean?”
“It means i’ve liked you for a while. Even before you started talking to me.”
“You’re not exactly… forward, you know.”
“I didn’t think i was your type.”
“You’re not,” you said simply. “At least, not what i thought my type was.”
His expression didn’t change much, but you saw the flicker of hope behind his eyes.
You glanced down at your keys, twisting them between your fingers. “You’ve been patient with me.”
“I don’t mind waiting,” he said. “But sometimes i think… i just want to know if i’m the only one feeling this.”
You looked at him then. Really looked.
His scarf was wrapped high, almost to his mouth. His cheeks were pink from the cold, eyes warm, uncertain, but wide open.
He wasn’t trying to be smooth. He wasn’t trying to win. He was just there, telling you the truth.
Then slowly and tentatively, he stepped closer, his breath shallow.
His voice barely carried “Can I kiss you?”
You felt everything in you pause.
And then “Yeah,” you said softly, heart pounding.
“Yeah, you can.”
He didn’t hesitate after that. He leaned in, hand rising to your cheek, thumb brushing gently across your skin. His lips met yours in a kiss that was soft, slow, careful.
He was learning something sacred; he didn’t want to rush what he’d waited so long to feel.
When he pulled back, your lips still tingled from the warmth of him, your chest full and fluttering.
You smiled, breath curling in the air. “You always this careful?”
His voice was low, but sure. “Only when it’s important.”
And you knew, right then, it was.
You didn’t talk much after that kiss.
Not because it was awkward. Because it wasn’t. It was the kind of silence that wrapped itself around you like a blanket. Soft, steady, enough.
He waited for you to open the door. Didn’t push. Just gave you that small smile, the one he only ever gave you and said, “Text me when you’re inside.”
You nodded, stepped in, and closed the door.
Then leaned your forehead against it.
You were in trouble.
⋆. 𐙚 ̊⊹ꮺ˚
The next few days were different in all the ways that mattered.
You still sat beside each other in class. Still studied together in the library. But now there were new things. A small, subtle shifts.
His knee brushed against yours and didn’t move. He’d lean in when he spoke, voice softer. You’d catch him looking at you, and this time, you didn’t look away.
You weren’t used to this version of yourself; unguarded. And Jungkook, for all his quietness, seemed to understand that.
He never rushed you. Never asked “what are we?” or “where is this going?”
He just stayed.
⋆. 𐙚 ̊⊹ꮺ˚
It wasn’t planned.
The day had been normal. Classes, campus noise, another group project that had you rolling your eyes while Jungkook just quietly took notes. He always took notes, even when no one else cared. You liked that about him. You’d never told him.
You were both walking back from campus, the sky soft with evening gray, when it started to drizzle.
Jungkook held his bag over your head.
You laughed. “You know i’m not gonna melt, right?”
He just looked down at you. “You’re still cold when it rains. You get quiet.”
You didn’t answer. Mostly because he was right. You did get quiet.
And he noticed.
By the time you reached your apartment, your hair was damp, and your mood had shifted. You weren’t sad—just heavy.
One of those days. You didn’t say much as you opened the door and let him in.
Jungkook toed off his shoes carefully, still holding that nervous energy he always carried when he was in your space. You dropped your keys in the bowl by the door and stood in the kitchen, hands on the counter.
“Want tea?” you asked.
He nodded. “Yeah. That’d be nice.”
The silence between you was soft. Not tense. Just full of all the things you weren’t ready to say out loud. You made tea. He sat at the table. You sat across from him, knees brushing under the wood.
Then, out of nowhere, you said it.
“I don’t let people in.”
He looked up, startled. You weren’t looking at him—just staring into your mug.
“I don’t know how to do that,” you continued. “It’s easier when no one expects anything.”
A long pause. Then:
“I never expected anything,” he said.
You finally looked at him. He looked… calm. A little sad. But calm.
“I just liked being around you.”
You nodded slowly. “You still do?”
“Yeah,” he said. “Even more now.”
The air between you shifted. Slowed. Deepened.
And you whispered, “Stay tonight?”
He didn’t ask questions. Didn’t assume.
He just said, “Okay.”
⋆. 𐙚 ̊⊹ꮺ˚
You sat on the floor of your bedroom while he changed into the extra clothes you gave him. A quiet hum played from the speaker, barely audible.
When he stepped back into the room; barefoot, hoodie sleeves pushed up, eyes soft, you suddenly felt that aching fear again.
What if you messed this up?
What if it didn’t last?
And then he crossed the room and knelt in front of you.
His hand rested gently on your knee. “You don’t have to be anything for me,” he said quietly. “You don’t have to perform. Or smile. Or fix anything.”
You looked down at your lap, fighting the warmth in your throat.
“I don’t know how to do this,” you admitted.
“I’ll wait while you figure it out,” he said.
Just like that.
No grand declaration. No demand. Just steady, honest patience.
You reached for his hand.
Held it.
And when you finally crawled into bed beside him, there was no space left between you. You pressed your back to his chest, his arm wrapping loosely around your waist. His breath tickled your shoulder.
“You okay?” he whispered.
“Yeah,” you whispered back.
And you meant it.
You woke to the quiet shift of fabric. The soft sound of him sitting up beside you.
Morning light filtered through the curtains in a pale blur. Your back was still warm from where his arm had rested. You blinked slowly, your mind caught between dreams and now.
Jungkook was already awake, hoodie wrinkled, hair messy from sleep.
He was sitting at the edge of the bed, elbows resting on his knees, his hands fidgeting with the hem of his sleeve.
He looked like he was thinking too loud.
You propped yourself up on your elbow. “Hey,” you said, voice scratchy.
He turned to you immediately, like he’d been waiting. “Hey,” he echoed. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
You sat up slowly, pulling the blanket around your shoulders. “You okay?”
He nodded. Then shook his head. Then let out a quiet breath, like he wasn’t sure how to start.
“Can I ask you something?” he said softly.
You stilled, heart already beginning to tap faster in your chest. “Yeah.”
He looked down at his hands, picking at a loose thread on the cuff of his sleeve.
“I don’t want to ruin anything. I’m not trying to pressure you,” he started, voice careful. “But… what are we?”
You didn’t answer right away.
His eyes lifted. “I just…last night meant something to me. You mean something to me. And i know you don’t let people in easily. So i don’t want to assume anything, but i also don’t want to keep pretending this is just… nothing.”
You watched him for a moment, your throat tight.
“I didn’t think you’d ask,” you murmured.
“Why not?”
“Because you’re usually the quiet one. The patient one.”
“I still am,” he said. “But being patient doesn’t mean I’m not feeling things too.”
You swallowed, fingers tugging at the edge of the blanket. “I’m not good at this. I don’t know how to explain what i feel when i’m with you. It’s new. And a little scary.”
He nodded slowly. “Same.”
You looked at him. “But I don’t want it to be nothing either.”
Jungkook’s expression softened. “Yeah?”
You nodded, quieter this time. “Yeah.”
He shifted closer, his knee bumping gently against yours. “Then maybe… we don’t have to label it yet. But I just needed to know i wasn’t alone in it.”
“You’re not,” you said.
You meant it.
Jungkook exhaled a breath he’d been holding. Then reached out, tentative at first and he curls his fingers around yours.
“Okay,” he said, voice warm now. “Then i’m yours. However long it takes.”
You smiled, eyes stinging just a little. “You’re really not what i expected.”
He grinned—finally, fully. “I get that a lot.”
And in the quiet that followed, your fingers remained laced with his. Simple. Certain.
And for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel like you had to run.
It had been a month.
One month since Jungkook had leaned across your front step and kissed you like it mattered. Since he’d touched your face like he was afraid you’d vanish if he blinked too fast.
And somehow, things still felt new. Still soft. Still unreal in moments like now, with him sprawled across your bed in a hoodie, reading on his stomach, feet swaying behind him like a kid.
You were half-working on an assignment, half-watching him.
“You’re staring,” he said without looking up.
“I’m admiring,” you corrected.
He turned his head just enough to catch your smirk, then gave a small smile. “Baby,” he said under his breath, “you’re distracting.”
“You like it,” you replied, nudging his leg with your foot.
He hummed. “I do.”
⋆. 𐙚 ̊⊹ꮺ˚
Your relationship had grown into something… daily. Quiet rituals that made your chest ache. He’d walk you to class with your fingers looped in his sleeve. He’d wait for you outside the library, sipping iced coffee and reading the latest novel you lent him. You started wearing his hoodies without asking. He stopped looking surprised when you kissed his cheek mid-sentence.
But even with the sweetness, there was still something unspoken hanging between you.
Something warmer. Heavier.
Like tonight.
He was still lying on your bed when you finally gave up pretending to work and climbed over him, plopping yourself beside his back with a sigh.
He closed his book and peeked at you. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” you murmured. “You’re just comfy.”
He let out a soft laugh. “You say that every time you use me as a pillow.”
“Because it’s true, baby.”
You shifted, laying your head against his back. Your palm flattened over his spine.
Jungkook went still for a second—then melted.
“Do you…” you hesitated, unsure why your throat suddenly felt tight, “do you ever want to do more than just lie here?”
He was silent for a moment.
Then, softly: “Yeah. I do.”
You sat up a little, just enough to look at him.
His cheeks were already flushed.
“I just never know if you’re comfortable,” intertwining your fingers together.
“Or if you want to. I’ve never really… gotten this far before.” he added.
You blinked. “You haven’t?”
He shook his head. “I’ve dated a few, but it never got serious. And no one ever really looked at me like you do.”
That last part made your chest squeeze.
“You mean like you hung the stars?” you teased gently.
He smiled, eyes shy. “Kind of, yeah.”
You reached out, brushing your fingers through his hair. “You’re not the only nervous one, baby.”
“I’m not?”
You shook your head. “I’ve been with my fair share of…flings? boyfriends?, whatever you wanna call it—but it never felt right nor did it worked out, obviously. It always felt like they expected something from me. You don’t.”
Jungkook shifted, sitting up properly now. You were both facing each other, legs crossed.
“Can I ask you something?” he said quietly.
You nodded.
His voice was careful. “If we… wanted to try something. Anything. Would you tell me if you weren’t ready?”
“Always,” you promised.
He reached forward, brushing a thumb against your cheek. “Okay.”
You leaned into his palm.
And after a beat, you whispered, “Would you kiss me now?”
His lips twitched. “I’d give you anything you want.”
When he kissed you—slow and warm, one hand still cupping your jaw—it felt like everything in the world slowed down. Like it was just you and him, tangled in hush and trust.
You shifted closer, your hand slipping beneath the hem of his hoodie, resting just above his waistband. You felt him freeze, just slightly.
“Too much?” you whispered.
“No,” he breathed. “Just new.”
You smiled into the kiss. “We’ll take it slow.”
“Promise?” he breathes into the kiss.
“Promise.”
And when he pulled you fully into his lap, burying his face in your neck with a soft laugh, it felt like something more than new.
It happened on a night that didn’t feel special; no candles, no dramatic music, just the two of you in your room after dinner, legs tangled on your bed, warm with laughter and full from pasta Jungkook had insisted on cooking himself.
He was wearing gray sweatpants and one of your oversized shirts, sleeves pushed up, his hair messily falling across his forehead.
You had just pulled him down for a kiss. Playful, slow.
But then it lingered. Deepened.
And something shifted.
His tongue slipped against yours, deliberate. His hand came up to cup the back of your neck, pulling you closer like he couldn’t help himself anymore.
When you whimpered against his lips, he pulled back slightly, gaze heavy-lidded.
“You okay?” he asked, voice low and rough.
You nodded, breathless. “Yeah. Just… wasn’t expecting you to kiss me like that.”
He brushed your cheek with his thumb. “Like what?”
“Like you’ve been waiting to.”
“I have been,” he murmured. “For so fucking long.”
Your chest tightened, breath caught in your throat.
“We’ve kissed many, many times before?,” you giggled.
And then his lips was on yours again, more desperate this time. No teasing. No question.
Jungkook leaned over you, pressing you into the mattress, his body slotting between your thighs like it was instinct.
You felt how hard he was through the thin fabric of your shorts. He wasn’t trying to hide it. He wanted you to feel it.
“Jungkook,” you breathed, tugging at his shirt. “Please.”
He sat back just enough to yank it over his head, chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. “You sure?”
“Baby,” you said, reaching for him again, “I’ve never been more sure.”
Something in his expression cracked open at that—relief, hunger, something fierce and protective all at once.
“Then let me have you,” he said, voice dark, breath ragged. “Let me fuck you like you deserve.”
The way he said it; need dripping into every syllable made your whole body shudder.
He tugged your shorts down fast, your panties going with them. When you gasped, he kissed the inside of your thigh, then hovered over you again, his cock straining visibly in his sweats.
“God,” he whispered, eyes raking over you. “You’re so fucking pretty like this. Laid out for me.”
Your hands reached for him, desperate. “I want you, Jungkook. I don’t wanna wait.”
“You won’t,” he said, voice curling around you like silk and smoke.
He shoved his pants down just enough to free himself, stroking himself slowly as he stared at you.
“You’ve got no idea what you do to me,” he murmured. “No idea how long i’ve wanted to be inside you.”
You reached between your legs, spreading yourself open for him.
His mouth dropped open slightly. “Fuck.”
He lined himself up, eyes locked on yours. “Tell me if i go too fast, okay?”
You nodded, heart hammering. “I trust you.”
That did something to him.
He pushed in slow, deep, all at once.
Your breath hitched, legs trembling.
“Holy fuck,” Jungkook groaned, head falling to your shoulder. “You feel like heaven. So wet for me already.”
You clung to him, nails dragging lightly down his back.
“Move,” you gasped. “I need you.”
He obeyed without hesitation—pulling back, then slamming into you again with a rhythm that made your head spin.
It was hard and deep. Not rushed, but intentional. Like he knew exactly how to tear you apart and put you back together.
“Baby,” he breathed, panting against your throat, “you’re taking me so well.”
You moaned, legs tightening around him.
“You always this tight, or is it just for me?”
“Only you,” you choked out, voice cracking. “Only ever been like this for you.”
That made him growl.
“You feel perfect. Like you’re made for me.”
Every thrust dragged a whimper from your lips. Every kiss to your neck made you melt further under him.
You could feel how careful he was, even in the roughness. Like he wanted you to feel claimed, but not hurt. Never that.
“You like when i talk like this?” he asked, voice low in your ear.
“Yes,” you moaned. “Fuck, Jungkook.”
“You make me lose my mind, princess. Got me thinking about you all day. Couldn’t wait to fuck you full of my come inside.”
Your back arched, nails digging into his shoulders.
He shifted his hips, angling deeper. “You gonna come for me like this? Gonna come on my cock hm?”
You nodded desperately, tears brimming at the corners of your eyes. “Yes….don’t stop.”
“Look at me,” he whispered.
You did.
And in the silence that followed, he slowed down, but pressed in deep and stayed there.
His body trembled above yours, like he was holding something back—not just his release, but something heavier.
You cupped his cheek gently. “Jungkook?”
His voice broke.
“I love you,” he whispered—then again, faster, almost panicked. “I love you so much it’s scaring me.”
You stared up at him, eyes wide.
“I—” His throat worked as he swallowed, his brows drawn tight with emotion. “I never thought i’d have this. You. i never thought someone like you would ever even look at me.”
“Jungkook—”
“I used to watch you,” he continued, voice cracking. “In class. You were always so confident. So distant. But then you sat next to me—God, i still remember the way you looked that day. I thought it was a joke. Like there’s no way you would sit beside me.”
Your chest ached. He kept going.
“But you did. You stayed. You talked to me. You let me see pieces of you no one else gets to. And i still don’t know why. I still think maybe you’ll wake up and realize you could do better and just… leave.”
You shook your head, eyes stinging.
“But you don’t,” he whispered. “You stay. You’re patient with me when i get quiet. When i don’t know what to say. You still kiss me like i matter.”
His voice dropped lower, barely a breath.
“I don’t know what i did to deserve you. But fuck—i’m so glad you exist. I’m so glad you sat next to me.”
Your lips parted, but nothing came out.
He saw the silence as hesitation, and something in his face crumpled.
“It’s okay,” he said quickly, pulling back just slightly. “You don’t have to say it back. I just—i needed you to know. Even if i’m not what you expected. Even if I’m not enough.”
And that’s when it hit you.
This boy—this quiet, brilliant, soft-hearted boy had been holding it in for months.
You surged up and kissed him.
Not soft. Not gentle.
You kissed him like you were giving him an answer.
He gasped against your lips when you pulled away.
“I love you,” you whispered. “Are you kidding? You’re everything.”
He blinked, stunned.
“I didn’t say it sooner because i was scared i’d ruin this,” you said. “But Jungkook… you are everything i could ever ask for.”
He let out a shaky breath—half a laugh, half a sob—and kissed you again, deeper this time. Needy. Grateful.
You weren’t sure what hurt more. The way he was moving inside you, or the way he was looking at you.
Like you were a miracle.
Like you were something he’d never believed he could have.
Every thrust was deep, steady, but trembling with emotion. He was holding on for dear life. His forehead pressed to yours, sweat on his brow, his breath hot and uneven.
“God,” Jungkook groaned, voice raw, “you feel so good, too good.”
You cupped his face again, thumbs brushing over his flushed cheeks. “You can let go. i’ve got you.”
But he didn’t. Not yet.
“I don’t want this to end,” he whispered. “I don’t want us to end.”
“We won’t,” you said softly. “I’m right here.”
He choked on a breath, hips stuttering. “I’ve never… never loved anyone like this.”
You nodded, tears welling. “Me either.”
And still, he didn’t stop moving. He couldn’t; not when your body clung to his like a prayer, not when your nails curled against his back, not when your lips parted with little gasps that sounded like his name.
“Let go, baby,” you whispered. “I want you to come inside. Cmon baby.”
His pace faltered—sharper, desperate. “Can’t believe you’re mine,” he breathed. “Can’t believe it’s you.”
Then, with a deep groan against your neck, he finally gave in—shuddering in your arms, body tensing, spilling into you like it was all too much and not enough at once.
You held him through it.
Through the tremble in his limbs.
Through the whispered “I love you” that followed on the heels release. Ropes of come dripping out as he pulls out slowly then inside again. You moaned at the sensation.
He didn’t move for a while—just stayed there, inside you, wrapped around you, like he couldn’t stand to lose the warmth.
“I’m not going anywhere,” you whispered, stroking his hair. “You don’t have to hold on so tight.”
He nuzzled into your shoulder. “I want to, though.”
“I know,” you smiled. “Me too.”
Eventually, he shifted, settling beside you, your bodies still tangled beneath the blankets.
The silence was heavy but comforting. No more fear. No more holding back.
Just breathing. Together.
You turned to look at him, and he was already watching you.
“What?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper.
He traced your jaw with his thumb, eyes soft.
“Out of everyone in this whole world… somehow, it was you.”
