semi-hiatus

The rain fell in steady, slanted sheets, soaking through every layer and blurring the world around you. You walked with your arms wrapped around yourself, shoes slapping against the wet pavement.

The fight with Noah still looped in your head — sharp words over nothing, really, the same stupid pattern that had worn grooves into the last few months. One minute you were laughing at the same joke, the next you were picking apart each other’s tone, intentions, everything. Today it had ended with him slamming the door on his way out of the café, leaving you sitting there with lukewarm coffee and the heavy feeling that maybe this was all it would ever be: good days that never quite outweighed the rest.

By the time you reached Jungkook’s street, the sky had gone darker, the downpour thicker. His house sat quiet at the end of the block, porch light glowing soft gold through the curtain of rain. You climbed the three familiar steps and pressed the doorbell once, twice, three times — the rhythm you’d used since you were teenagers, back when his sister would yell at you both for letting cold air inside.

Water streamed down your face, plastered your hair to your neck, dripped from the hem of your jacket onto the welcome mat. You didn’t knock again. You just stood there, letting the rain do what it wanted, because moving felt pointless.

The door opened sooner than you expected.

Jungkook filled the frame, dark hair tousled like he’d run a hand through it moments ago, wearing an old black t-shirt and grey sweatpants. His eyes widened the second he saw you — concern pulling his brows together, mouth parting around a soft breath.

“Hey,” he said, voice low and careful.

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. The ache in your chest rose too fast, pressing against your ribs until it hurt to breathe. Instead you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him, face turning into the warm space between his shoulder and neck. He smelled like laundry soap and coffee he probably drank before you rang the doorbell. Your wet hair left dark patches on his shirt instantly.

Jungkook didn’t flinch at all. His arms came around you without hesitation, one hand settling between your shoulder blades, the other lower on your back, holding you steady. The rain kept falling behind you, drumming on the porch roof, but inside the circle of his embrace the sound felt muffled, and distant. He was warm — always so warm — and the contrast made you shiver harder for a moment before his hold tightened, grounding you.

“Shit, you’re freezing,” he murmured against your temple, breath stirring your wet strands. He didn’t pull away. If anything, he shifted closer, letting you burrow in deeper, one palm rubbing slow circles over your soaked jacket like he could chase the chill out through sheer stubbornness. You felt his heartbeat, steady and quickening just a little.

You stayed like that for a long stretch of seconds, maybe minutes. The rain kept pouring, but Jungkook simply stood there in the open doorway, letting it splatter onto his bare feet and the floorboards behind him. His chin rested lightly on top of your head. Every so often his fingers flexed against your back, a silent check that you were still there, still breathing.

Eventually he spoke again, softer this time. “Come on. Let’s get you inside before you catch a cold or something.” He eased back just enough to look at your face, his gaze searching — taking in the redness around your eyes, the way your lips pressed thin. His thumb brushed a droplet from your cheek, the touch feather-light. “Noah?”

He knew. Somehow, he always knew.

You gave a small nod, throat too tight for words. The admission felt pathetic even in silence. Months of this back-and-forth with Noah, chasing moments of real connection only for them to slip through your fingers like water. And here you were, running straight to Jungkook every single time the cracks showed. He never made you explain more than you wanted. He just took the pieces you brought him and held them gently.

Jungkook’s jaw tightened for a flicker, something unreadable passing behind his eyes, but it vanished before you could name it. He guided you inside with a hand at your elbow, kicking the door shut behind you. The sudden quiet of the house wrapped around you like a blanket — the low hum of the heater, the faint scent of whatever he’d cooked for dinner earlier.

“Stay right here,” he said, already moving toward the hallway closet. He returned with two thick towels, draping one over your shoulders and using the second to gently squeeze water from your hair. His movements were efficient but careful, the way they always were when he was worried. Droplets fell onto the towel in dark spots. You watched his fingers work, the small silver ring he wore on his right hand catching the light.

“You didn’t have to come all the way here in this mess, You could've asked me to come over.” he added, but there was no scolding in it — only quiet fondness edged with that same concern. He crouched a little to meet your eyes again, towel still in hand. “But I’m glad you came to me anyway.”

You swallowed, the lump in your throat easing just enough. “Didn’t know what to do and.. where else to go.” The words came out hoarse, barely above a whisper. Rainwater still trickled down your neck, but the towel helped, and so did his closeness. Jungkook’s living room stretched behind him — familiar posters and paintings on the walls, the couch where you’d fallen asleep during too many late-night movies, the guitar in the corner he picked up when he needed to think.

He led you further in, peeling your soaked jacket off your shoulders and hanging it on the hook by the door. Water pooled beneath it immediately. “Go sit. I’ll grab you something dry.” Before you could protest, he disappeared into his bedroom and came back with one of his oversized black hoodies and a pair of sweatpants that would be comically long on you. “Bathroom’s yours. Change before you actually freeze.”

In the bathroom you stripped out of your wet clothes, the fabric clinging stubbornly to your skin. The mirror showed a girl with tired eyes and rain-flushed cheeks.

You look away.

Then you pulled on Jungkook’s hoodie; it smelled like him, fabric soft and worn from a hundred washes. The sleeves swallowed your hands.

When you stepped back out, he had already wiped up the water trail on the floor and set a mug of something steaming on the coffee table — probably the herbal tea he kept around because he knew you liked it on bad days.

You padded over on bare feet and sank onto the couch. Jungkook dropped down beside you, close enough that your knees brushed. He didn’t push for the full story right away. Instead he picked up the towel again and resumed drying the ends of your hair with slow, careful strokes, his focus narrowed like nothing else mattered.

“Tell me what happened,” he said eventually, voice low. “Or don’t. Whatever you need, angel.”

You leaned into his side, letting your head rest against his shoulder. The fight replayed in fragments: Noah’s frustrated sigh, the way he’d said your name like it annoyed him, your own sharp retort that had only made things worse. The constant push and pull that left you wondering why you kept trying.

Jungkook listened without interrupting, his arm slipping around your shoulders once more. His fingers traced idle patterns on your sleeve — small, soothing circles that matched the rhythm of the rain still tapping at the windows.

Minutes stretched. The tea cooled untouched. Outside, the storm showed no sign of letting up, but inside, the warmth of the house and Jungkook’s steady presence slowly loosened the knot in your chest. You turned your face toward him, studying the line of his jaw, the way his lashes cast faint shadows when he looked down at you.

He met your gaze, his expression softening further. “You’re gonna be okay,” he murmured, the promise simple and sure. His hand found yours, fingers lacing together without asking. “I'm here for you.”

You squeezed back, letting the silence settle around you both. The rain continued its steady song, but it felt less lonely now. Here, in the quiet glow of his living room, wrapped in his hoodie and his concern, the ache from earlier dulled to something more manageable.

You didn’t know how long you stayed like that — heads close, breathing in sync — but for the first time that day, the world outside the front door felt a little farther away.

It felt good.

Ten minutes later. You both still stayed silent.

Jungkook stayed close on the couch, his arm draped around your shoulders, thumb tracing slow arcs over the sleeve of his own hoodie. The fabric still carried his warmth, wrapping you in it like an extra layer of safety.

“Remember that time in tenth grade?” he said, voice low and easy, the way it got when he was trying to pull you out of your head. “When you showed up at my door after that fight with your mom. You were soaked then too — except it was from the sprinkler you accidentally set off trying to climb the fence and fell.” A small smile tugged at his mouth. “You had grass in your hair and looked so mad. I made you hot chocolate with extra marshmallows, the ones that were basically just sugar. We stayed up until three watching those terrible horror movies you hated but pretended to like just to prove a point.”

You let out a quiet laugh, the sound surprising even you. It came out shaky at first, then a little lighter, loosening something tight in your chest. The memory flashed bright — his old bedroom with the cracked ceiling light, the way he’d thrown popcorn at the screen every time the killer appeared, both of you ending up laughing so hard his sister banged on the wall. For a moment the ache from Noah felt smaller, pushed back by the familiar comfort of Jungkook’s stories.

He chuckled softly too, the vibration rumbling through his chest. “See? There it is. There's the smile.” His fingers brushed a stray strand of damp hair from your forehead, lingering just a second longer than necessary. The gesture was gentle, almost careful, like he was handling something fragile. You leaned into him more, letting the quiet stretch between you. No pressure to fill it. Just the two of you, the low glow of the lamp, and the rain keeping the rest of the world at bay.

You stayed wrapped in that moment, letting his presence chase away the sharper edges of the day. The hoodie sleeves bunched around your wrists as you curled closer, inhaling the faint scent of his detergent mixed with the warmth of his skin. Jungkook didn’t rush. He never did. Instead he rested his cheek against the top of your head, breath even and calm, like simply holding you was enough to fix whatever had cracked open inside you. The couch cushions dipped under your combined weight, and the heater hummed low in the background, pushing back the chill that still clung to your bones.

You could feel the tension in your shoulders easing, muscle by muscle, as his fingers worked their way through the damp strands at the nape of your neck. It was the kind of comfort that didn’t need grand gestures — it was just this, just him, steady as always.

Then your phone rang.

The sound cut through the calm, muffled but insistent from the pocket of your soaked jacket hanging by the door. You stiffened against him. Jungkook glanced toward it, then back at you, his brows drawing together slightly.

“I’ll get it,” he said, already rising. He crossed the room in a few steps, fishing the phone out. Water dripped from the jacket as he pulled the device free, leaving small puddles on the floorboards. His expression shifted when he looked at the screen — something guarded sliding into place, jaw tightening just a fraction.

“It’s Noah.”

Your stomach twisted sharply.

“No.”

The word left you fast and flat. You shook your head, pulling the hoodie sleeves over your hands like a shield. “I don’t want to talk to him. Not right now.”

Jungkook didn’t hesitate. He silenced the call with a swipe of his thumb, then set the phone face-down on the coffee table with a quiet thud. The screen lit up once more with another incoming ring before fading to black for good. He wiped his damp fingers on his sweatpants and came back to the couch, settling beside you again, closer this time, his knee pressing firmly against yours.

“You don’t have to,” he murmured, picking up right where the comfort had left off. His hand found yours, warm fingers wrapping around your cooler ones, squeezing gently. “Whatever’s going on with him… you don’t owe him your night. Not when it leaves you like this.” He paused, searching your face with those dark eyes that always saw too much. The concern lingered there, deep and genuine, but something else flickered underneath — deeper, quieter, a shadow of protectiveness he tried to keep tucked away. “You want to keep talking about it? Or… do you need a distraction?”

The word hung between you, loaded with everything it meant. Your mind spun immediately, pulling up memories you tried not to examine too closely.

Distraction.

It wasn’t new or sudden. It had started almost a year ago on another night much like this — one where words had failed you completely and touches had said everything else instead. What began as a single moment of desperate closeness had quietly become a habit between you two.

You’d lose yourself in him when everything else felt too sharp, too overwhelming, and he never turned you away. Not even once.

You’d talked about it once, late at night with limbs still tangled and breathing uneven in the dark, your voice hesitant as you admitted it felt wrong sometimes, like you were using him to patch up the holes other people left behind. He’d just pulled you closer, voice rough against your skin, fingers tracing lazy patterns along your spine. “It’s okay. Use me all you want, angel.”

It sounded bad when he laid it out like that. Selfish. Messy. You hated that it had become your pattern, especially when you knew how easily it could blur lines you weren’t ready to cross. Especially when you caught the way he sometimes looked at you afterward — like he was waiting for something more, even if he never pushed for it out loud. You hated that you kept coming back anyway, because with him it felt safe and electric all at once. Because he understood the cracks in you without needing explanations, and in those moments, nothing else mattered. Noah’s fights left you raw and unsteady, but Jungkook always made the ground feel solid again, even if only temporarily.

It sounds wrong, but it was just how you two were. Complicated in ways neither of you named out loud.

You met Jungkook’s gaze, fingers tightening around his until your knuckles brushed. The choice sat heavy in your chest, guilt and need twisting together. “Distraction,” you whispered, the word barely audible.

Something flickered across his face — relief mixed with that same quiet intensity he tried to hide behind his usual calm. He didn’t question it. He never did. Instead he leaned in slowly, forehead resting against yours for a long breath, giving you one final moment to change your mind. His hand came up to cup your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek with a tenderness that always undid you, tracing the faint dampness still lingering there from the rain.

“Okay,” he said softly, the word warm against your lips before he closed the distance.

His kiss started slow, almost careful, lips moving against yours with a patience that made your pulse quicken. You shifted closer, knees pressing into the couch as you leaned into him, fingers curling into the front of his t-shirt, the fabric bunched under your grip.

Jungkook’s other hand found your waist, drawing you in until you were half in his lap, the oversized hoodie riding up your thighs. He broke the kiss just long enough to murmur your name against your mouth, low and rough, before diving back in deeper.

The comforting moment from earlier melted seamlessly into this. His touches shifting from soothing to something hungrier. One hand slid beneath the hem of the hoodie, palm flat against the bare skin of your back, fingers spreading wide as if to claim every inch. You shivered — not from cold this time, but from the contrast of his heat against your still-damp body. He noticed, of course, pulling back slightly to search your eyes, breath mingling with yours.

“You sure?” he asked, voice a quiet rumble, even as his thumb traced small circles just above the waistband of the borrowed sweatpants. Always checking, always giving you the out.

You nodded, leaning forward to kiss him again instead of answering with words. This time you took the lead a little more, nipping at his bottom lip until he exhaled sharply, grip tightening on your hips. The rain continued its steady patter outside, a constant backdrop that made the inside of his house feel even more intimate.

Jungkook’s hands explored with familiar ease, one slipping higher under the hoodie to trace the curve of your ribs, the other anchoring you against him. You could feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat through his chest, faster now, matching the growing heat between you. Memories of the past year flickered through your mind in fragments — the first time this had happened after a particularly brutal argument with your family, the way he’d held you through the aftermath without expectation; the nights where you’d shown up unannounced and he’d simply opened the door, knowing what you needed without asking. It had felt right then, natural, like two puzzle pieces that fit even when the bigger picture remained unclear.

But now, with Noah’s name still lingering on your silenced phone, the guilt twisted sharper. You knew this might be leading him on, feeding something deeper in him that you couldn’t quite return. Yet you couldn’t stop. Not when his mouth moved to your neck, pressing open kisses along the sensitive skin there, teeth grazing lightly in a way that pulled a soft sound from your throat.

He smiled against your collarbone, the curve of his lips warm and knowing. “Still with me?” he murmured, hands sliding down to grip your thighs, encouraging you to settle more fully in his lap. The position brought you flush against him, and the evidence of his own want pressed insistently between you.

“Still with you.” you managed, voice breathy as you rocked against him experimentally. His fingers dug in slightly, a low groan escaping him that vibrated through your shared space. The comforting memory from earlier felt distant now, replaced by this building urgency, yet the tenderness never fully left his touches. Even as things heated up, he remained attentive — pausing to kiss your temple when you shivered, whispering quiet reassurances between kisses, making sure every move felt wanted.

You tugged at his t-shirt, impatient suddenly, and he helped you pull it over his head, revealing the familiar tattoos on his chest that you’d traced countless times before. Your hands roamed over his skin, feeling the way his muscles shifted under your palms, the quick intake of breath when your nails grazed lower. Jungkook captured your mouth again, deeper this time, tongue sliding against yours in a rhythm that mirrored the growing need. One of his hands slipped fully beneath the sweatpants, cupping you intimately, fingers teasing with practiced knowledge of exactly what made your hips jerk forward.

The guilt flickered again — this habit of turning to him, using these moments as an escape — but it dissolved under the heat of his attention. He flipped you gently onto your back on the couch, hovering above you with dark eyes locked on yours. The hoodie had ridden up completely now, bunching around your chest, and he took his time peeling the rest of the clothes away, lips following the path of his hands. Every kiss, every touch carried that same mix of comfort and desire, reminding you why this felt so dangerously easy.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he whispered against your stomach, breath hot as he worked his way lower. But it wasn’t too much. It was exactly what you needed — the distraction pulling you under, washing away the echoes of Noah’s voice and the rain outside. Jungkook knew your body like his own, responding to every sigh and shift with perfect timing, drawing out the pleasure until your fingers tangled in his hair and your back arched off the cushions.

His mouth brushed feather-light at first, a kiss to the sensitive skin of your inner thigh that made your breath catch. Then lower, softer, his lips pressing warm against your center. The first slow drag of his tongue pulled a quiet sound from you. He hummed in response, the vibration traveling through you in a gentle wave.

Jungkook took his time, every movement unhurried and attentive. His tongue traced slow, careful paths, exploring with a softness that matched the comfort from earlier. No rush, no intensity that overwhelmed you — it was just steady, warm pressure that built in quiet layers. He lingered where you responded most, learning the small shifts in your breathing, the way your hips twitched when he found the right angle. One hand stayed on your thigh, holding you open with gentle strength, thumb stroking soothing patterns against your skin while the other rested on your stomach, feeling the flutter of your breaths.

“Angel, you taste divine.” he murmured against you, voice low and rough with want, the words vibrating softly. “Fucking divine.” The praise settled warm in your chest, easing the last remnants of tension from the day. He returned to his task with renewed focus, tongue moving in languid strokes that drew out every sensation. The rain outside seemed to fade further, replaced by the quiet sounds of his mouth and your uneven breathing filling the living room.

Your back arched slightly as the pleasure deepened, not in sharp bursts but in a slow, rolling warmth that spread through your limbs.

Your fingers reached down and tightened in his hair. Jungkook responded with a soft sound of his own, pressing closer, shoulders flexing under your touch. He kept the rhythm steady, long, slow licks along your pussy. Then he followed by pulling his hand lower, fingers gently circling your clit with slow, feather-light touches. Every few moments he paused just enough to kiss your inner thigh or hip, lips warm and damp, whispering quiet praises against your skin.

“Relax for me,” he breathed, tongue flicking softly over your clit again. “Let me take care of you.” The words sank into you, warm and reassuring. His mouth returned, hotter now, tongue moving with patient dedication over your pussy, lapping and circling your swollen clit in unhurried strokes. Pleasure grew in slow, rolling waves, pulling soft gasps from your throat. Your free hand gripped the couch cushion as the feeling built without ever becoming too much.

He stayed completely focused on you, reading every small reaction — the subtle roll of your hips, the way your thighs trembled against his shoulders.

The heat and softness of his mouth working your pussy, tongue stroking and teasing your clit with careful persistence. The distraction worked its magic, Noah’s voice dissolving completely under the steady attention, leaving only Jungkook and the safety of his mouth on you.

“You’re doing so well,” he praised, voice muffled and low between slow licks. “Just like that… feel how wet you are for me.” He sucked gently on your clit, then soothed it with the flat of his tongue. “Touch yourself, ___. Rub your clit for me while I eat you.”

Your hand moved almost on its own, sliding down to join him. Fingers rubbed slow circles over your clit as his tongue dipped lower, licking along your entrance and back up again, tasting you thoroughly. The combined sensation made your breath shake. Jungkook groaned softly in approval, the sound vibrating against your pussy.

“That’s it,” he murmured, eyes flicking up to watch you. “Keep rubbing just like that. You look so pretty like this.” His tongue kept working in steady, devoted strokes, licking and circling in time with your fingers. “You’re getting so close, aren’t you?”

Your moans grew quieter and breathier. The build was gradual, almost dreamlike, heat coiling tighter and tighter in your belly until it finally crested in a slow, shuddering release.

Your back arched, fingers still gripping his hair and your other hand against your own clit as the waves washed through you, pussy pulsing under his tongue. Jungkook stayed with you through every tremor, licking you, drawing it out until the last aftershocks faded and your thighs stopped trembling.

Only then did he ease back, pressing one final soft kiss to your clit before lifting his head. His lips were flushed and glossy, eyes dark and tender as they met yours. Jungkook didn’t wipe his mouth. Instead he ran his tongue slowly over his lower lip, savoring the taste of you with a quiet hum that sent another faint shiver through your body. The sight of him like that — lips shining with evidence of what he’d just done, no shame, no rush to clean it away — made something twist low in your stomach. He looked like he loved it. Like he could stay between your thighs for hours if you let him.

He crawled up your body slowly, the couch dipping under his weight as he settled over you. One hand braced beside your head, the other brushing damp strands of hair from your face. His eyes held yours for a long second before he leaned down and kissed you. Soft. So soft it almost made you moan. The taste of yourself lingered on his tongue, faint and intimate, mixing with the familiar warmth of him. You sighed into the kiss, fingers threading back into his hair, pulling him closer.

There was nothing hurried in it. Just slow presses of lips, gentle tilts of heads, breaths shared in the small spaces between. Jungkook kissed you like he had all the time in the world. His tongue brushed yours lazily, it was not demanding, but just tasting and wanting to explore you more. Every so often he would pull back just enough to nip at your bottom lip or press a softer kiss to the corner of your mouth, then return like he couldn’t stay away long. Skin brushed skin in small, warm touches — his bare chest pressed against your breasts, your nipples brushing against his chest with every slow shift of his body, his hips settling comfortably between your spread thighs.

You melted under the gentle rhythm of it, letting the aftershocks of your orgasm fade into this new kind of warmth. His hand cupped your jaw, thumb stroking your cheek in time with the slow glide of his mouth. A quiet sound slipped from him, almost a sigh, and you felt it vibrate a little against your lips. The kiss deepened just a fraction, still soft, still careful. Minutes passed just like that — lazy, lingering kisses that made your head feel light and your body heavy with contentment. The quiet house settled around you, a constant backdrop to the wet sounds of mouths moving together and the soft, occasional moans slipping from your lips.

Eventually Jungkook pulled back, forehead resting against yours, breathing a little heavier. His lips were even glossier now, slightly swollen. He licked them again, eyes half-lidded as he looked at you. A small, almost shy smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Let me get a condom.” he murmured.

He pressed one last soft kiss to your lips before pushing himself up. The sudden absence of his warmth made the air feel cooler against your skin. You watched him walk toward his bedroom, bare feet quiet on the floor, the muscles in his back shifting with each step. The sight of him — still hard, moving with that easy confidence — stirred something complicated in your chest.

As soon as he disappeared into the room, your thoughts rushed in.

This wasn’t right. Not at all.

You like Noah. Or at least you think you do.

The fights, the misunderstandings, the way he could make you laugh on the good days… that was supposed to mean something. Yet here you were, legs still trembling from Jungkook’s mouth, lips tingling from his kisses, waiting for him to come back so you could fuck him like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Fuck.

Guilt twisted sharp and sudden. You were using him again. Using your best friend as a distraction because facing your own mess with Noah felt too heavy. Jungkook deserved better than this — better than being the safe place you ran to when someone else hurt you. Better than being wanted only when you were falling apart.

But God, it felt good with him.

It felt so safe in a way Noah had never managed. Jungkook never made you explain yourself. He never got frustrated when your moods shifted or when words failed you. He just… took you as you were. And that made the guilt worse. Because you knew, deep down, that the way he looked at you sometimes wasn’t just friendly.

The way he held you, the way he licked his lips like he could never get enough of your taste — it all pointed to something more. Something you weren’t ready to name or return. Not when your head was still tangled up with Noah and the stupid hope that maybe one day the fights would stop and things would finally make sense with him.

You heard Jungkook rummaging in the bedroom drawer. The sound pulled you back for a moment, but the thoughts kept spinning. What if you were ruining him? What if every time you chose this distraction, you were making it harder for him to move on, to find someone who could actually love him the way he deserved? You hated that part of yourself — the part that kept coming back because it was easy, because he made you feel wanted without conditions.

You like someone else. You are supposed to be figuring that out. Instead you're spread out on Jungkook’s couch, naked, pussy still wet from his tongue, waiting for him to fuck you so you could forget for a little while longer.

The self-disgust sat heavy in your throat. Yet you didn’t move. You didn’t call out to stop him. Because underneath all the guilt was the truth you didn’t want to face.

The way he knew exactly how to touch you, how to kiss you, how to make the world shrink down until only the two of you existed. It was addictive. Dangerous.

Then you hear footsteps approaching.

Jungkook came back, condom packet in hand, tearing it open as he walked. His eyes found yours immediately, softening when he saw you still lying there, waiting. He rolled it on with practiced movements, then climbed back onto the couch, settling between your legs again.

He leaned down, kissing you once more, like he could sense the storm in your head and wanted to quiet it. “You okay?” he whispered against your mouth.

You nodded, fingers tracing the line of his jaw. The thoughts were still there, loud and messy, but the warmth of his body against yours started to push them back. He positioned himself at your entrance, the blunt head of his cock nudging against your slick folds.

“Fuck.” you both groan.

Then he pushed in — slowly, carefully, inch by inch.

The stretch pulled you sharply out of your head. Your eyes fluttered, lips parting on a quiet gasp as he filled you completely. The feeling was overwhelming in the best way possible, grounding you instantly in the present. There were no more spiraling thoughts. Just the thick, solid heat of him inside you, the way your walls clenched around him, the soft groan he let out against your neck.

Jungkook stilled once he was fully seated, forehead pressed to yours, breathing shaky. “fuck me,” he murmured, voice strained with the effort of holding still. One hand stroked your side soothingly, waiting for you to adjust, so careful even now.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer, and for a moment everything else — the guilt, Noah, the complicated mess of your feelings — faded into the background.

There was only this. Only him. Only Jungkook.

He started moving then, deep thrusts that dragged against every sensitive spot inside you. Each roll of his hips was deliberate, controlled, like he wanted to feel all of you. His chest brushed your breasts with every motion, nipples grazing in a way that sent little jolts straight to your core. One of his hands slid under your ass, tilting your hips up slightly to change the angle, and the new depth pulled a broken moan from your throat.

“That’s it, angel.” he praised softly, lips brushing your ear. “Let me hear you. You sound so pretty when I’m inside you.”

The praise made heat flood your face and your pussy clench around him. He groaned at the feeling, pace picking up just a fraction while still staying deep and steady. The couch creaked quietly beneath you with every thrust, the sound mixing with the wet slide of his cock moving in and out of your soaked pussy. You met his movements, rolling your hips up to take him deeper, fingers digging into his shoulders.

Jungkook kissed you again, messy and breathless this time, tongues sliding together as he fucked you. His free hand roamed your body — cupping your breast, pinching your nipple gently, then sliding down to where you were joined, thumb finding your clit and rubbing firm circles. The added stimulation made your back arch, pushing your chest harder against his.

“Jungkook…” you gasped against his mouth.

“I know,” he whispered. “I’ve got you. I'm here. Just feel me.”

He kept the rhythm consistent, hips snapping forward with controlled power. Every thrust hit that perfect spot inside you, sending waves of pleasure radiating outward. His thumb never stopped its steady circling on your clit, slick with your arousal. Sweat started to bead on his skin, making your bodies slide together even more easily. The room filled with the sounds of skin meeting skin, your shared breathing, and the occasional soft curse or moan.

Right now, all that mattered was the way he filled you, the way he looked at you like you were the only thing in his world, the way his body moved against yours like it was made for this.

He shifted slightly, hooking one of your legs higher over his arm, opening you up more. The new angle made him hit even deeper, and your moan came out louder, unrestrained. Jungkook’s eyes darkened further at the sound.

“Yeah? Right there?” he asked, voice husky. He angled his hips to hit the same spot again and again, thumb pressing firmer on your clit. “Come on, angel. I want to feel you come around my cock.”

The words sent a fresh rush of heat through you. Your pussy clenched tightly around him, drawing a low groan from deep in his chest. He kept fucking you steadily, deep and relentless, never losing the rhythm. Sweat slicked both your bodies now, the couch cushions damp beneath you. Your fingers reached and dug into his back, nails leaving faint marks as the pleasure coiled tighter and tighter in your belly.

Jungkook leaned down, capturing one of your nipples in his mouth, sucking gently while his hips kept moving. The dual sensation — his mouth on your breasts and his cock stretching you open — pushed you closer to the edge. You could feel your orgasm building.

“Don’t hold back,” he murmured against your skin, switching to the other nipple, tongue flicking over the sensitive peak. “Come for me. Let go, angel.”

His thumb sped up on your clit, small tight circles that matched the deep thrusts of his cock. Your thighs started trembling around him, breath coming in short gasps. The coil inside you wound impossibly tight, then finally snapped.

Pleasure tore through you in a slow, powerful rush, dragging long shudders from your core. Your pussy clenched rhythmically around his cock, pulsing hard as pleasure flooded every nerve. You cried out his name, back arching sharply off the couch, fingers gripping his shoulders like he was the only solid thing in the world. Jungkook groaned loudly, hips stuttering for a moment as he felt you come apart around him, but he kept moving, fucking you through it with deep, steady strokes, drawing out every last tremor.

“So good… fuck, you’re squeezing me so tight,” he praised breathlessly, voice breaking. “That’s my girl.”

He rode out your orgasm, never stopping, until your body started to relax beneath him. Only then did his pace change — faster, a little rougher, chasing his own release. His forehead pressed against yours again, eyes locked on yours, breathing ragged.

A few more deep thrusts and Jungkook buried himself to the hilt, hips pressing flush against yours as he came hard. His cock pulsed inside you, filling the condom with hot spurts while he groaned your name against your neck, body trembling with the force of it. You held him through it, stroking his back, feeling every twitch and shudder as he emptied himself.

For a long moment afterward, Jungkook stayed buried deep inside you, breathing hard against your shoulder, arms wrapped tightly around your body. You could feel his heartbeat racing against your chest, slowly starting to calm. The afterglow settled over both of you, wrapping you both in quiet intimacy.

He eventually lifted his head, pressing soft kisses to your jaw, your cheek, your lips. His eyes were soft, full of something deeper than just satisfaction. You kissed him back, slow and gentle, letting the moment stretch.

· · • • • ✤ • • • · ·

Everything settled around you quietly in the aftermath, the air thick with the scent of sweat and sex.

He finally lifted his head, eyes soft and searching as they met yours. His thumb brushed gently over your cheek, wiping away a stray bead of sweat.

“You okay?” he asked, voice low and a little hoarse. “Did I go too hard at the end?”

You shook your head, offering a small, tired smile. “It was good, I am okay.”

Jungkook’s expression softened further. He pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead, then your lips, slow and sweet. “Good,” he murmured. “Stay right here. I’ll be back in a second.”

After disposing of the condom in the bathroom, he returned with a warm, damp cloth and gently cleaned between your thighs with careful strokes. The tenderness of it made your chest tighten. He was always like this afterward — attentive, quiet, careful, never rushing you out of the moment.

Once he was done, he tossed the cloth aside and pulled you into his arms again, skin still warm and slightly sticky against yours.

“Want to take a shower together?” he asked softly, fingers tracing lazy patterns along your spine. “Or I can make you something to eat first. You hungry?”

You hesitated for a second, then nodded. “Shower sounds nice.”

He helped you up from the couch, your legs still a little shaky, and led you to the bathroom. The water was warm when he turned it on, steam quickly filling the small space. You both stepped under the spray, and Jungkook immediately pulled you close again, back to his chest, arms looped around your waist. The water cascaded over both of you, washing away the evidence of what you’d just done.

He reached for the soap, lathering it between his hands before running them slowly over your body — shoulders, arms, breasts, stomach. His touch stayed gentle. You leaned back into him, letting the hot water soothe your muscles.

“You’ve been quiet,” he said after a while, voice barely louder than the running water. “More than usual. Talk to me. What’s going on in that head of yours?”

You swallowed hard, the guilt that had been pushed aside during sex now rushing back in full force. Jungkook’s hands paused on your hips, patient as always, waiting for you to find the words.

“I don’t know,” you started, voice small. “Today with Noah… it just messed me up again. The same stupid cycle. And then I come here and… this happens.” You gestured vaguely between the two of you. “It feels good, yes. You always make it feel good. But I keep thinking maybe we shouldn’t keep doing this.”

Jungkook’s arms tightened slightly around you, but his voice stayed calm. “Because of Noah?”

You nodded, eyes stinging a little. “Yeah. I still… I still like him. Or I want to make it work with him. We have these moments where it feels like we could be something real, you know? And then I ruin it by running to you every time things get hard. And I know it’s not fair to you.”

He was quiet for a long moment, just holding you under the spray, hands resuming their slow, soapy path over your skin. “I told you before,” he said eventually, pressing a kiss to your wet shoulder. “I’m okay with it. If this is what you need, I’m here. I don’t regret any of it.”

“But I do,” you whispered. The words slipped out before you could stop them. “Well.. not because it doesn’t feel right with you. It does. And that’s the problem. It feels too right sometimes. And that scares me because I’m supposed to be figuring things out with someone else. I can’t keep using you like this, Jungkook. You deserve someone who chooses you first. Not someone who only shows up when they need a distraction.”

The shower water continued to fall, steam swirling around you both. Jungkook turned you gently in his arms so you were facing him. His hair was wet and pushed back, water droplets clinging to his lashes. He looked at you with that same steady gaze that always made your resolve waver.

“I know you still want to try with Noah,” he said quietly. “I’m not asking you to stop. I just… I care about you. A lot. And if this helps you even a little, then it’s worth it to me.” He cupped your face, thumbs brushing water from your cheeks. “But if you want us to stop, we can. Just say the word.”

You leaned into his touch, eyes closing for a moment. Part of you wanted to take it back immediately, to tell him you didn’t mean it and pull him close again. But the other part — the louder one right now — knew you couldn’t keep doing this forever. It was getting messier. It was getting real.

“I think we should stop,” you said finally, the words heavy on your tongue. “At least for a while... I need to actually try to fix things with Noah instead of running away every time it gets difficult. And you… you need to stop letting me do this to you.”

Jungkook’s jaw tightened, but he nodded slowly. “If that’s what you want.” His voice was soft, but you caught the flicker of something painful in his eyes before he hid it. He pulled you into a tight hug under the water, chin resting on top of your head. “I’ll always be here for you, angel. As your best friend. That part doesn’t change.”

You hugged him back, your throat suddenly feels tight. The water kept falling, washing over your joined bodies, but it couldn’t rinse away the complicated knot of emotions in your chest. Being close to him like this felt so safe. Stopping would hurt. But continuing would hurt him more in the long run.

You were sure of it.

After the shower, he gave you one of his clean t-shirts to wear. You both moved to the kitchen in the comfortable silence. Jungkook made you a simple sandwich while you sat on the counter, legs swinging, watching him. The domesticity felt.. good. But it also made you feel more guilty.

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me,” he said as he slid the plate toward you. “I get it. Noah’s the one you want to make it work with. I’ve always known that.”

You took a bite, chewing slowly. “It doesn’t mean I don’t care about you,” you said quietly. “Because I do. More than I probably should.”

Jungkook leaned against the counter across from you, arms crossed over his bare chest. A small, sad smile touched his lips. “I know. That’s why this is kind of complicated.”

The conversation drifted after that — lighter topics, old memories, anything to fill the space between you. But the decision hung there. You would try to make things right with Noah. You would stop using Jungkook as your emotional and physical escape. And he would let you, because that was the kind of person he was.

Later, when you were curled up on the couch again in his t-shirt, head on his chest, you wondered how long you could actually stick to that promise.

Because even now, safe in his arms with the steady beat of his heart under your ear, part of you already missed what you were trying to end.

· · • • • ✤ • • • · ·

You had drifted off on his chest, body soft and trusting against his, breathing slow and even. Jungkook hadn’t moved. He couldn’t bring himself to. One arm stayed wrapped around your back, hand resting lightly between your shoulder blades, feeling every rise and fall of your breath through the thin fabric of his t-shirt you wore. The other hand rested on your thigh where it had draped over his lap, thumb tracing absent, soothing circles that had long since lost their purpose except to keep himself grounded.

He stared at the ceiling for a long time, the faint glow from the living room lamp casting soft shadows across the room. The weight of you on top of him was both comfort and torture. You fit against him so perfectly it made his chest ache in a way he had grown used to hiding.

Jungkook had been in love with you for years.

It wasn’t the kind of love that announced itself loudly or demanded anything in return. It had grown slowly, quietly, in the spaces between late-night talks and shared silences, in the way you always came to him first when the world felt too overwhelming.

He remembered the exact moment it had shifted for him — years ago, when you showed up at his door after a bad fight with your family, eyes red and voice cracking. He had held you then, just like now, and something inside him had cracked open and never quite closed again. You weren’t just his best friend. You were the person he measured everyone else against. The one who made ordinary days feel brighter simply by existing in them.

And yet here you were. Asleep on his chest after he had been inside you, after he had tasted you and held you and tried to give you everything you needed to feel better. Only for you to wake up tomorrow and choose someone else again.

His jaw tightened. Noah. That idiot who couldn’t see how lucky he was to even have your attention. Jungkook had watched the cycle for months — the fights, the make-ups, the way you tried to excuse his actions, only to come running back here when it all fell apart. He hated it. Not because he thought he was better than Noah, (though some ugly part of him whispered that he was). He hated it because it hurt you. And every time it hurt you, it hurt him twice as much.

He tilted his head slightly, looking down at your face. Your lashes cast faint shadows on your cheeks, lips slightly parted in sleep. You looked so peaceful like this, all the tension from earlier smoothed away. Jungkook’s heart clenched painfully. He loved the way you looked when you were asleep on him. Like nothing in the world could touch you while he was holding you. Like you were his. Like you felt safe with him and him only.

He wanted to be that for you every single night. Not just on the nights when someone else let you down.

His mind drifted through memories unbidden. The time you both stayed up until sunrise talking about nothing and everything, your head in his lap while he played with your hair. The way you had laughed at his terrible attempts at cooking and then helped him salvage dinner anyway. The quiet nights where you would fall asleep during movies and he would carry you to his bed, tucking you in without ever crossing the line until you started crossing it first. He had tried so hard to keep his feelings locked away. When you had first kissed him almost a year ago, desperate and hurting, he had told himself it was just comfort. That he could handle being whatever you needed. But every time you came back, every time you chose him in those moments, it carved the love deeper into his bones until it became impossible to ignore.

He was tired of pretending it didn’t destroy him a little more each time.

Jungkook exhaled slowly, careful not to wake you. His hand continued its gentle stroking along your back. You shifted slightly in your sleep, pressing closer to him with a tiny sigh, and the simple movement made his throat tighten. How could you not see it? How could you not feel how completely he belonged to you? He would give up anything if it meant you looked at him the way he looked at you. Not as a distraction. Not as a safe place to fall when things got hard. But as the person you chose first. The person you fought for.

Instead you kept choosing Noah. The guy who argued with you over small things. The guy who made you doubt yourself. Jungkook had seen the way your face fell after every fight, the way you carried the pain of it until you ended up here. He wanted to tell you that you deserved someone who made the good days outnumber the bad ones. Someone who saw how incredible you were and fought to keep you happy.

Someone like him.

But he never said it. Because you had made your choice clear tonight. You wanted to try with Noah. You wanted to stop this thing between you two. And as much as it killed him, he would respect it. He would swallow the words he had wanted to say for years — I love you. I’ve always loved you. Let me be the one. — and go back to being the best friend who was always there when you needed him.

Even if it meant watching you walk toward someone who didn’t deserve you.

Jungkook closed his eyes for a moment, letting the steady rhythm of your breathing comfort him. He loved the way you smelled after showers, like his soap and something uniquely you. He loved how your body fit perfectly against his, how your hand would unconsciously fist his shirt in your sleep. He loved your laugh, your stubbornness, the way your eyes lit up when you talked about things you were passionate about. He loved you in all the quiet ways that never got spoken out loud.

And because he loved you, he would let you go try to make it work with Noah. He would smile and support you and be there to pick up the pieces if it fell apart again. Even if every time it did, it broke something else inside him.

Minutes turned into what felt like hours.

Jungkook memorized every detail — the way your hair fell across your face, the faint flutter of your lashes in dreams, the warmth of your breath against his collarbone. He wanted to remember this. Just in case things really did change after tonight. Just in case this was one of the last times he got to hold you like this.

Eventually, when he was sure you were deeply asleep, he spoke. The words came out barely above a whisper, rough with everything he had been holding back.

“Silly girl,” he murmured, lips brushing the top of your head. “You’re choosing that idiot when I would burn the whole world down just to keep you smiling. He doesn’t see you. Not the way I do. Not the way you deserve to be seen.”

He swallowed hard, voice cracking just slightly.

“I love you, ___. I’ve loved you for so fucking long. And I’ll keep loving you even if you never choose me.”

The confession hung in the quiet air, heard by no one but him. You didn’t stir. Jungkook pressed another soft kiss to your hair, tightening his hold around you just a fraction. He would carry this moment with him. The sound of your breathing. Your warmth. The love that filled every corner of his chest even as he prepared himself to let you walk away.

But for now, he just held you. And tried to pretend tomorrow wouldn’t hurt as much as he knew it would.

⊱ ──── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ──── ⊰

𝗹𝘂𝘃𝗶’𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲𝘀 :: fun fact; this oneshot was originally titled distraction. but because i took approximately a million years to actually write it, and by the time i was ready to finish it, hate that i made you love me had already come out and i was just like... oh. yeah. perfect. thank you ms. ariana 🙂‍↕️

i also wrote an alternate ending for this oneshot! in the alt version, jungkook is a lot more.. angrier, and refuses to let go of their whole fwb situation, so... yeah, angry sex basically.

i've uploaded it on my patreon under the ARCHIVE tier! if you'd like to read it, you can find it here: alternate ending — 5.6k words

The rain fell in steady, slanted sheets, soaking through every layer and blurring the world around you. You walked with your arms wrapped around yourself, shoes slapping against the wet pavement.

The fight with Noah still looped in your head — sharp words over nothing, really, the same stupid pattern that had worn grooves into the last few months. One minute you were laughing at the same joke, the next you were picking apart each other’s tone, intentions, everything. Today it had ended with him slamming the door on his way out of the café, leaving you sitting there with lukewarm coffee and the heavy feeling that maybe this was all it would ever be: good days that never quite outweighed the rest.

By the time you reached Jungkook’s street, the sky had gone darker, the downpour thicker. His house sat quiet at the end of the block, porch light glowing soft gold through the curtain of rain. You climbed the three familiar steps and pressed the doorbell once, twice, three times — the rhythm you’d used since you were teenagers, back when his sister would yell at you both for letting cold air inside.

Water streamed down your face, plastered your hair to your neck, dripped from the hem of your jacket onto the welcome mat. You didn’t knock again. You just stood there, letting the rain do what it wanted, because moving felt pointless.

The door opened sooner than you expected.

Jungkook filled the frame, dark hair tousled like he’d run a hand through it moments ago, wearing an old black t-shirt and grey sweatpants. His eyes widened the second he saw you — concern pulling his brows together, mouth parting around a soft breath.

“Hey,” he said, voice low and careful.

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. The ache in your chest rose too fast, pressing against your ribs until it hurt to breathe. Instead you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him, face turning into the warm space between his shoulder and neck. He smelled like laundry soap and coffee he probably drank before you rang the doorbell. Your wet hair left dark patches on his shirt instantly.

Jungkook didn’t flinch at all. His arms came around you without hesitation, one hand settling between your shoulder blades, the other lower on your back, holding you steady. The rain kept falling behind you, drumming on the porch roof, but inside the circle of his embrace the sound felt muffled, and distant. He was warm — always so warm — and the contrast made you shiver harder for a moment before his hold tightened, grounding you.

“Shit, you’re freezing,” he murmured against your temple, breath stirring your wet strands. He didn’t pull away. If anything, he shifted closer, letting you burrow in deeper, one palm rubbing slow circles over your soaked jacket like he could chase the chill out through sheer stubbornness. You felt his heartbeat, steady and quickening just a little.

You stayed like that for a long stretch of seconds, maybe minutes. The rain kept pouring, but Jungkook simply stood there in the open doorway, letting it splatter onto his bare feet and the floorboards behind him. His chin rested lightly on top of your head. Every so often his fingers flexed against your back, a silent check that you were still there, still breathing.

Eventually he spoke again, softer this time. “Come on. Let’s get you inside before you catch a cold or something.” He eased back just enough to look at your face, his gaze searching — taking in the redness around your eyes, the way your lips pressed thin. His thumb brushed a droplet from your cheek, the touch feather-light. “Noah?”

He knew. Somehow, he always knew.

You gave a small nod, throat too tight for words. The admission felt pathetic even in silence. Months of this back-and-forth with Noah, chasing moments of real connection only for them to slip through your fingers like water. And here you were, running straight to Jungkook every single time the cracks showed. He never made you explain more than you wanted. He just took the pieces you brought him and held them gently.

Jungkook’s jaw tightened for a flicker, something unreadable passing behind his eyes, but it vanished before you could name it. He guided you inside with a hand at your elbow, kicking the door shut behind you. The sudden quiet of the house wrapped around you like a blanket — the low hum of the heater, the faint scent of whatever he’d cooked for dinner earlier.

“Stay right here,” he said, already moving toward the hallway closet. He returned with two thick towels, draping one over your shoulders and using the second to gently squeeze water from your hair. His movements were efficient but careful, the way they always were when he was worried. Droplets fell onto the towel in dark spots. You watched his fingers work, the small silver ring he wore on his right hand catching the light.

“You didn’t have to come all the way here in this mess, You could've asked me to come over.” he added, but there was no scolding in it — only quiet fondness edged with that same concern. He crouched a little to meet your eyes again, towel still in hand. “But I’m glad you came to me anyway.”

You swallowed, the lump in your throat easing just enough. “Didn’t know what to do and.. where else to go.” The words came out hoarse, barely above a whisper. Rainwater still trickled down your neck, but the towel helped, and so did his closeness. Jungkook’s living room stretched behind him — familiar posters and paintings on the walls, the couch where you’d fallen asleep during too many late-night movies, the guitar in the corner he picked up when he needed to think.

He led you further in, peeling your soaked jacket off your shoulders and hanging it on the hook by the door. Water pooled beneath it immediately. “Go sit. I’ll grab you something dry.” Before you could protest, he disappeared into his bedroom and came back with one of his oversized black hoodies and a pair of sweatpants that would be comically long on you. “Bathroom’s yours. Change before you actually freeze.”

In the bathroom you stripped out of your wet clothes, the fabric clinging stubbornly to your skin. The mirror showed a girl with tired eyes and rain-flushed cheeks.

You look away.

Then you pulled on Jungkook’s hoodie; it smelled like him, fabric soft and worn from a hundred washes. The sleeves swallowed your hands.

When you stepped back out, he had already wiped up the water trail on the floor and set a mug of something steaming on the coffee table — probably the herbal tea he kept around because he knew you liked it on bad days.

You padded over on bare feet and sank onto the couch. Jungkook dropped down beside you, close enough that your knees brushed. He didn’t push for the full story right away. Instead he picked up the towel again and resumed drying the ends of your hair with slow, careful strokes, his focus narrowed like nothing else mattered.

“Tell me what happened,” he said eventually, voice low. “Or don’t. Whatever you need, angel.”

You leaned into his side, letting your head rest against his shoulder. The fight replayed in fragments: Noah’s frustrated sigh, the way he’d said your name like it annoyed him, your own sharp retort that had only made things worse. The constant push and pull that left you wondering why you kept trying.

Jungkook listened without interrupting, his arm slipping around your shoulders once more. His fingers traced idle patterns on your sleeve — small, soothing circles that matched the rhythm of the rain still tapping at the windows.

Minutes stretched. The tea cooled untouched. Outside, the storm showed no sign of letting up, but inside, the warmth of the house and Jungkook’s steady presence slowly loosened the knot in your chest. You turned your face toward him, studying the line of his jaw, the way his lashes cast faint shadows when he looked down at you.

He met your gaze, his expression softening further. “You’re gonna be okay,” he murmured, the promise simple and sure. His hand found yours, fingers lacing together without asking. “I'm here for you.”

You squeezed back, letting the silence settle around you both. The rain continued its steady song, but it felt less lonely now. Here, in the quiet glow of his living room, wrapped in his hoodie and his concern, the ache from earlier dulled to something more manageable.

You didn’t know how long you stayed like that — heads close, breathing in sync — but for the first time that day, the world outside the front door felt a little farther away.

It felt good.

Ten minutes later. You both still stayed silent.

Jungkook stayed close on the couch, his arm draped around your shoulders, thumb tracing slow arcs over the sleeve of his own hoodie. The fabric still carried his warmth, wrapping you in it like an extra layer of safety.

“Remember that time in tenth grade?” he said, voice low and easy, the way it got when he was trying to pull you out of your head. “When you showed up at my door after that fight with your mom. You were soaked then too — except it was from the sprinkler you accidentally set off trying to climb the fence and fell.” A small smile tugged at his mouth. “You had grass in your hair and looked so mad. I made you hot chocolate with extra marshmallows, the ones that were basically just sugar. We stayed up until three watching those terrible horror movies you hated but pretended to like just to prove a point.”

You let out a quiet laugh, the sound surprising even you. It came out shaky at first, then a little lighter, loosening something tight in your chest. The memory flashed bright — his old bedroom with the cracked ceiling light, the way he’d thrown popcorn at the screen every time the killer appeared, both of you ending up laughing so hard his sister banged on the wall. For a moment the ache from Noah felt smaller, pushed back by the familiar comfort of Jungkook’s stories.

He chuckled softly too, the vibration rumbling through his chest. “See? There it is. There's the smile.” His fingers brushed a stray strand of damp hair from your forehead, lingering just a second longer than necessary. The gesture was gentle, almost careful, like he was handling something fragile. You leaned into him more, letting the quiet stretch between you. No pressure to fill it. Just the two of you, the low glow of the lamp, and the rain keeping the rest of the world at bay.

You stayed wrapped in that moment, letting his presence chase away the sharper edges of the day. The hoodie sleeves bunched around your wrists as you curled closer, inhaling the faint scent of his detergent mixed with the warmth of his skin. Jungkook didn’t rush. He never did. Instead he rested his cheek against the top of your head, breath even and calm, like simply holding you was enough to fix whatever had cracked open inside you. The couch cushions dipped under your combined weight, and the heater hummed low in the background, pushing back the chill that still clung to your bones.

You could feel the tension in your shoulders easing, muscle by muscle, as his fingers worked their way through the damp strands at the nape of your neck. It was the kind of comfort that didn’t need grand gestures — it was just this, just him, steady as always.

Then your phone rang.

The sound cut through the calm, muffled but insistent from the pocket of your soaked jacket hanging by the door. You stiffened against him. Jungkook glanced toward it, then back at you, his brows drawing together slightly.

“I’ll get it,” he said, already rising. He crossed the room in a few steps, fishing the phone out. Water dripped from the jacket as he pulled the device free, leaving small puddles on the floorboards. His expression shifted when he looked at the screen — something guarded sliding into place, jaw tightening just a fraction.

“It’s Noah.”

Your stomach twisted sharply.

“No.”

The word left you fast and flat. You shook your head, pulling the hoodie sleeves over your hands like a shield. “I don’t want to talk to him. Not right now.”

Jungkook didn’t hesitate. He silenced the call with a swipe of his thumb, then set the phone face-down on the coffee table with a quiet thud. The screen lit up once more with another incoming ring before fading to black for good. He wiped his damp fingers on his sweatpants and came back to the couch, settling beside you again, closer this time, his knee pressing firmly against yours.

“You don’t have to,” he murmured, picking up right where the comfort had left off. His hand found yours, warm fingers wrapping around your cooler ones, squeezing gently. “Whatever’s going on with him… you don’t owe him your night. Not when it leaves you like this.” He paused, searching your face with those dark eyes that always saw too much. The concern lingered there, deep and genuine, but something else flickered underneath — deeper, quieter, a shadow of protectiveness he tried to keep tucked away. “You want to keep talking about it? Or… do you need a distraction?”

The word hung between you, loaded with everything it meant. Your mind spun immediately, pulling up memories you tried not to examine too closely.

Distraction.

It wasn’t new or sudden. It had started almost a year ago on another night much like this — one where words had failed you completely and touches had said everything else instead. What began as a single moment of desperate closeness had quietly become a habit between you two.

You’d lose yourself in him when everything else felt too sharp, too overwhelming, and he never turned you away. Not even once.

You’d talked about it once, late at night with limbs still tangled and breathing uneven in the dark, your voice hesitant as you admitted it felt wrong sometimes, like you were using him to patch up the holes other people left behind. He’d just pulled you closer, voice rough against your skin, fingers tracing lazy patterns along your spine. “It’s okay. Use me all you want, angel.”

It sounded bad when he laid it out like that. Selfish. Messy. You hated that it had become your pattern, especially when you knew how easily it could blur lines you weren’t ready to cross. Especially when you caught the way he sometimes looked at you afterward — like he was waiting for something more, even if he never pushed for it out loud. You hated that you kept coming back anyway, because with him it felt safe and electric all at once. Because he understood the cracks in you without needing explanations, and in those moments, nothing else mattered. Noah’s fights left you raw and unsteady, but Jungkook always made the ground feel solid again, even if only temporarily.

It sounds wrong, but it was just how you two were. Complicated in ways neither of you named out loud.

You met Jungkook’s gaze, fingers tightening around his until your knuckles brushed. The choice sat heavy in your chest, guilt and need twisting together. “Distraction,” you whispered, the word barely audible.

Something flickered across his face — relief mixed with that same quiet intensity he tried to hide behind his usual calm. He didn’t question it. He never did. Instead he leaned in slowly, forehead resting against yours for a long breath, giving you one final moment to change your mind. His hand came up to cup your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek with a tenderness that always undid you, tracing the faint dampness still lingering there from the rain.

“Okay,” he said softly, the word warm against your lips before he closed the distance.

His kiss started slow, almost careful, lips moving against yours with a patience that made your pulse quicken. You shifted closer, knees pressing into the couch as you leaned into him, fingers curling into the front of his t-shirt, the fabric bunched under your grip.

Jungkook’s other hand found your waist, drawing you in until you were half in his lap, the oversized hoodie riding up your thighs. He broke the kiss just long enough to murmur your name against your mouth, low and rough, before diving back in deeper.

The comforting moment from earlier melted seamlessly into this. His touches shifting from soothing to something hungrier. One hand slid beneath the hem of the hoodie, palm flat against the bare skin of your back, fingers spreading wide as if to claim every inch. You shivered — not from cold this time, but from the contrast of his heat against your still-damp body. He noticed, of course, pulling back slightly to search your eyes, breath mingling with yours.

“You sure?” he asked, voice a quiet rumble, even as his thumb traced small circles just above the waistband of the borrowed sweatpants. Always checking, always giving you the out.

You nodded, leaning forward to kiss him again instead of answering with words. This time you took the lead a little more, nipping at his bottom lip until he exhaled sharply, grip tightening on your hips. The rain continued its steady patter outside, a constant backdrop that made the inside of his house feel even more intimate.

Jungkook’s hands explored with familiar ease, one slipping higher under the hoodie to trace the curve of your ribs, the other anchoring you against him. You could feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat through his chest, faster now, matching the growing heat between you. Memories of the past year flickered through your mind in fragments — the first time this had happened after a particularly brutal argument with your family, the way he’d held you through the aftermath without expectation; the nights where you’d shown up unannounced and he’d simply opened the door, knowing what you needed without asking. It had felt right then, natural, like two puzzle pieces that fit even when the bigger picture remained unclear.

But now, with Noah’s name still lingering on your silenced phone, the guilt twisted sharper. You knew this might be leading him on, feeding something deeper in him that you couldn’t quite return. Yet you couldn’t stop. Not when his mouth moved to your neck, pressing open kisses along the sensitive skin there, teeth grazing lightly in a way that pulled a soft sound from your throat.

He smiled against your collarbone, the curve of his lips warm and knowing. “Still with me?” he murmured, hands sliding down to grip your thighs, encouraging you to settle more fully in his lap. The position brought you flush against him, and the evidence of his own want pressed insistently between you.

“Still with you.” you managed, voice breathy as you rocked against him experimentally. His fingers dug in slightly, a low groan escaping him that vibrated through your shared space. The comforting memory from earlier felt distant now, replaced by this building urgency, yet the tenderness never fully left his touches. Even as things heated up, he remained attentive — pausing to kiss your temple when you shivered, whispering quiet reassurances between kisses, making sure every move felt wanted.

You tugged at his t-shirt, impatient suddenly, and he helped you pull it over his head, revealing the familiar tattoos on his chest that you’d traced countless times before. Your hands roamed over his skin, feeling the way his muscles shifted under your palms, the quick intake of breath when your nails grazed lower. Jungkook captured your mouth again, deeper this time, tongue sliding against yours in a rhythm that mirrored the growing need. One of his hands slipped fully beneath the sweatpants, cupping you intimately, fingers teasing with practiced knowledge of exactly what made your hips jerk forward.

The guilt flickered again — this habit of turning to him, using these moments as an escape — but it dissolved under the heat of his attention. He flipped you gently onto your back on the couch, hovering above you with dark eyes locked on yours. The hoodie had ridden up completely now, bunching around your chest, and he took his time peeling the rest of the clothes away, lips following the path of his hands. Every kiss, every touch carried that same mix of comfort and desire, reminding you why this felt so dangerously easy.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he whispered against your stomach, breath hot as he worked his way lower. But it wasn’t too much. It was exactly what you needed — the distraction pulling you under, washing away the echoes of Noah’s voice and the rain outside. Jungkook knew your body like his own, responding to every sigh and shift with perfect timing, drawing out the pleasure until your fingers tangled in his hair and your back arched off the cushions.

His mouth brushed feather-light at first, a kiss to the sensitive skin of your inner thigh that made your breath catch. Then lower, softer, his lips pressing warm against your center. The first slow drag of his tongue pulled a quiet sound from you. He hummed in response, the vibration traveling through you in a gentle wave.

Jungkook took his time, every movement unhurried and attentive. His tongue traced slow, careful paths, exploring with a softness that matched the comfort from earlier. No rush, no intensity that overwhelmed you — it was just steady, warm pressure that built in quiet layers. He lingered where you responded most, learning the small shifts in your breathing, the way your hips twitched when he found the right angle. One hand stayed on your thigh, holding you open with gentle strength, thumb stroking soothing patterns against your skin while the other rested on your stomach, feeling the flutter of your breaths.

“Angel, you taste divine.” he murmured against you, voice low and rough with want, the words vibrating softly. “Fucking divine.” The praise settled warm in your chest, easing the last remnants of tension from the day. He returned to his task with renewed focus, tongue moving in languid strokes that drew out every sensation. The rain outside seemed to fade further, replaced by the quiet sounds of his mouth and your uneven breathing filling the living room.

Your back arched slightly as the pleasure deepened, not in sharp bursts but in a slow, rolling warmth that spread through your limbs.

Your fingers reached down and tightened in his hair. Jungkook responded with a soft sound of his own, pressing closer, shoulders flexing under your touch. He kept the rhythm steady, long, slow licks along your pussy. Then he followed by pulling his hand lower, fingers gently circling your clit with slow, feather-light touches. Every few moments he paused just enough to kiss your inner thigh or hip, lips warm and damp, whispering quiet praises against your skin.

“Relax for me,” he breathed, tongue flicking softly over your clit again. “Let me take care of you.” The words sank into you, warm and reassuring. His mouth returned, hotter now, tongue moving with patient dedication over your pussy, lapping and circling your swollen clit in unhurried strokes. Pleasure grew in slow, rolling waves, pulling soft gasps from your throat. Your free hand gripped the couch cushion as the feeling built without ever becoming too much.

He stayed completely focused on you, reading every small reaction — the subtle roll of your hips, the way your thighs trembled against his shoulders.

The heat and softness of his mouth working your pussy, tongue stroking and teasing your clit with careful persistence. The distraction worked its magic, Noah’s voice dissolving completely under the steady attention, leaving only Jungkook and the safety of his mouth on you.

“You’re doing so well,” he praised, voice muffled and low between slow licks. “Just like that… feel how wet you are for me.” He sucked gently on your clit, then soothed it with the flat of his tongue. “Touch yourself, ___. Rub your clit for me while I eat you.”

Your hand moved almost on its own, sliding down to join him. Fingers rubbed slow circles over your clit as his tongue dipped lower, licking along your entrance and back up again, tasting you thoroughly. The combined sensation made your breath shake. Jungkook groaned softly in approval, the sound vibrating against your pussy.

“That’s it,” he murmured, eyes flicking up to watch you. “Keep rubbing just like that. You look so pretty like this.” His tongue kept working in steady, devoted strokes, licking and circling in time with your fingers. “You’re getting so close, aren’t you?”

Your moans grew quieter and breathier. The build was gradual, almost dreamlike, heat coiling tighter and tighter in your belly until it finally crested in a slow, shuddering release.

Your back arched, fingers still gripping his hair and your other hand against your own clit as the waves washed through you, pussy pulsing under his tongue. Jungkook stayed with you through every tremor, licking you, drawing it out until the last aftershocks faded and your thighs stopped trembling.

Only then did he ease back, pressing one final soft kiss to your clit before lifting his head. His lips were flushed and glossy, eyes dark and tender as they met yours. Jungkook didn’t wipe his mouth. Instead he ran his tongue slowly over his lower lip, savoring the taste of you with a quiet hum that sent another faint shiver through your body. The sight of him like that — lips shining with evidence of what he’d just done, no shame, no rush to clean it away — made something twist low in your stomach. He looked like he loved it. Like he could stay between your thighs for hours if you let him.

He crawled up your body slowly, the couch dipping under his weight as he settled over you. One hand braced beside your head, the other brushing damp strands of hair from your face. His eyes held yours for a long second before he leaned down and kissed you. Soft. So soft it almost made you moan. The taste of yourself lingered on his tongue, faint and intimate, mixing with the familiar warmth of him. You sighed into the kiss, fingers threading back into his hair, pulling him closer.

There was nothing hurried in it. Just slow presses of lips, gentle tilts of heads, breaths shared in the small spaces between. Jungkook kissed you like he had all the time in the world. His tongue brushed yours lazily, it was not demanding, but just tasting and wanting to explore you more. Every so often he would pull back just enough to nip at your bottom lip or press a softer kiss to the corner of your mouth, then return like he couldn’t stay away long. Skin brushed skin in small, warm touches — his bare chest pressed against your breasts, your nipples brushing against his chest with every slow shift of his body, his hips settling comfortably between your spread thighs.

You melted under the gentle rhythm of it, letting the aftershocks of your orgasm fade into this new kind of warmth. His hand cupped your jaw, thumb stroking your cheek in time with the slow glide of his mouth. A quiet sound slipped from him, almost a sigh, and you felt it vibrate a little against your lips. The kiss deepened just a fraction, still soft, still careful. Minutes passed just like that — lazy, lingering kisses that made your head feel light and your body heavy with contentment. The quiet house settled around you, a constant backdrop to the wet sounds of mouths moving together and the soft, occasional moans slipping from your lips.

Eventually Jungkook pulled back, forehead resting against yours, breathing a little heavier. His lips were even glossier now, slightly swollen. He licked them again, eyes half-lidded as he looked at you. A small, almost shy smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Let me get a condom.” he murmured.

He pressed one last soft kiss to your lips before pushing himself up. The sudden absence of his warmth made the air feel cooler against your skin. You watched him walk toward his bedroom, bare feet quiet on the floor, the muscles in his back shifting with each step. The sight of him — still hard, moving with that easy confidence — stirred something complicated in your chest.

As soon as he disappeared into the room, your thoughts rushed in.

This wasn’t right. Not at all.

You like Noah. Or at least you think you do.

The fights, the misunderstandings, the way he could make you laugh on the good days… that was supposed to mean something. Yet here you were, legs still trembling from Jungkook’s mouth, lips tingling from his kisses, waiting for him to come back so you could fuck him like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Fuck.

Guilt twisted sharp and sudden. You were using him again. Using your best friend as a distraction because facing your own mess with Noah felt too heavy. Jungkook deserved better than this — better than being the safe place you ran to when someone else hurt you. Better than being wanted only when you were falling apart.

But God, it felt good with him.

It felt so safe in a way Noah had never managed. Jungkook never made you explain yourself. He never got frustrated when your moods shifted or when words failed you. He just… took you as you were. And that made the guilt worse. Because you knew, deep down, that the way he looked at you sometimes wasn’t just friendly.

The way he held you, the way he licked his lips like he could never get enough of your taste — it all pointed to something more. Something you weren’t ready to name or return. Not when your head was still tangled up with Noah and the stupid hope that maybe one day the fights would stop and things would finally make sense with him.

You heard Jungkook rummaging in the bedroom drawer. The sound pulled you back for a moment, but the thoughts kept spinning. What if you were ruining him? What if every time you chose this distraction, you were making it harder for him to move on, to find someone who could actually love him the way he deserved? You hated that part of yourself — the part that kept coming back because it was easy, because he made you feel wanted without conditions.

You like someone else. You are supposed to be figuring that out. Instead you're spread out on Jungkook’s couch, naked, pussy still wet from his tongue, waiting for him to fuck you so you could forget for a little while longer.

The self-disgust sat heavy in your throat. Yet you didn’t move. You didn’t call out to stop him. Because underneath all the guilt was the truth you didn’t want to face.

The way he knew exactly how to touch you, how to kiss you, how to make the world shrink down until only the two of you existed. It was addictive. Dangerous.

Then you hear footsteps approaching.

Jungkook came back, condom packet in hand, tearing it open as he walked. His eyes found yours immediately, softening when he saw you still lying there, waiting. He rolled it on with practiced movements, then climbed back onto the couch, settling between your legs again.

He leaned down, kissing you once more, like he could sense the storm in your head and wanted to quiet it. “You okay?” he whispered against your mouth.

You nodded, fingers tracing the line of his jaw. The thoughts were still there, loud and messy, but the warmth of his body against yours started to push them back. He positioned himself at your entrance, the blunt head of his cock nudging against your slick folds.

“Fuck.” you both groan.

Then he pushed in — slowly, carefully, inch by inch.

The stretch pulled you sharply out of your head. Your eyes fluttered, lips parting on a quiet gasp as he filled you completely. The feeling was overwhelming in the best way possible, grounding you instantly in the present. There were no more spiraling thoughts. Just the thick, solid heat of him inside you, the way your walls clenched around him, the soft groan he let out against your neck.

Jungkook stilled once he was fully seated, forehead pressed to yours, breathing shaky. “fuck me,” he murmured, voice strained with the effort of holding still. One hand stroked your side soothingly, waiting for you to adjust, so careful even now.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer, and for a moment everything else — the guilt, Noah, the complicated mess of your feelings — faded into the background.

There was only this. Only him. Only Jungkook.

He started moving then, deep thrusts that dragged against every sensitive spot inside you. Each roll of his hips was deliberate, controlled, like he wanted to feel all of you. His chest brushed your breasts with every motion, nipples grazing in a way that sent little jolts straight to your core. One of his hands slid under your ass, tilting your hips up slightly to change the angle, and the new depth pulled a broken moan from your throat.

“That’s it, angel.” he praised softly, lips brushing your ear. “Let me hear you. You sound so pretty when I’m inside you.”

The praise made heat flood your face and your pussy clench around him. He groaned at the feeling, pace picking up just a fraction while still staying deep and steady. The couch creaked quietly beneath you with every thrust, the sound mixing with the wet slide of his cock moving in and out of your soaked pussy. You met his movements, rolling your hips up to take him deeper, fingers digging into his shoulders.

Jungkook kissed you again, messy and breathless this time, tongues sliding together as he fucked you. His free hand roamed your body — cupping your breast, pinching your nipple gently, then sliding down to where you were joined, thumb finding your clit and rubbing firm circles. The added stimulation made your back arch, pushing your chest harder against his.

“Jungkook…” you gasped against his mouth.

“I know,” he whispered. “I’ve got you. I'm here. Just feel me.”

He kept the rhythm consistent, hips snapping forward with controlled power. Every thrust hit that perfect spot inside you, sending waves of pleasure radiating outward. His thumb never stopped its steady circling on your clit, slick with your arousal. Sweat started to bead on his skin, making your bodies slide together even more easily. The room filled with the sounds of skin meeting skin, your shared breathing, and the occasional soft curse or moan.

Right now, all that mattered was the way he filled you, the way he looked at you like you were the only thing in his world, the way his body moved against yours like it was made for this.

He shifted slightly, hooking one of your legs higher over his arm, opening you up more. The new angle made him hit even deeper, and your moan came out louder, unrestrained. Jungkook’s eyes darkened further at the sound.

“Yeah? Right there?” he asked, voice husky. He angled his hips to hit the same spot again and again, thumb pressing firmer on your clit. “Come on, angel. I want to feel you come around my cock.”

The words sent a fresh rush of heat through you. Your pussy clenched tightly around him, drawing a low groan from deep in his chest. He kept fucking you steadily, deep and relentless, never losing the rhythm. Sweat slicked both your bodies now, the couch cushions damp beneath you. Your fingers reached and dug into his back, nails leaving faint marks as the pleasure coiled tighter and tighter in your belly.

Jungkook leaned down, capturing one of your nipples in his mouth, sucking gently while his hips kept moving. The dual sensation — his mouth on your breasts and his cock stretching you open — pushed you closer to the edge. You could feel your orgasm building.

“Don’t hold back,” he murmured against your skin, switching to the other nipple, tongue flicking over the sensitive peak. “Come for me. Let go, angel.”

His thumb sped up on your clit, small tight circles that matched the deep thrusts of his cock. Your thighs started trembling around him, breath coming in short gasps. The coil inside you wound impossibly tight, then finally snapped.

Pleasure tore through you in a slow, powerful rush, dragging long shudders from your core. Your pussy clenched rhythmically around his cock, pulsing hard as pleasure flooded every nerve. You cried out his name, back arching sharply off the couch, fingers gripping his shoulders like he was the only solid thing in the world. Jungkook groaned loudly, hips stuttering for a moment as he felt you come apart around him, but he kept moving, fucking you through it with deep, steady strokes, drawing out every last tremor.

“So good… fuck, you’re squeezing me so tight,” he praised breathlessly, voice breaking. “That’s my girl.”

He rode out your orgasm, never stopping, until your body started to relax beneath him. Only then did his pace change — faster, a little rougher, chasing his own release. His forehead pressed against yours again, eyes locked on yours, breathing ragged.

A few more deep thrusts and Jungkook buried himself to the hilt, hips pressing flush against yours as he came hard. His cock pulsed inside you, filling the condom with hot spurts while he groaned your name against your neck, body trembling with the force of it. You held him through it, stroking his back, feeling every twitch and shudder as he emptied himself.

For a long moment afterward, Jungkook stayed buried deep inside you, breathing hard against your shoulder, arms wrapped tightly around your body. You could feel his heartbeat racing against your chest, slowly starting to calm. The afterglow settled over both of you, wrapping you both in quiet intimacy.

He eventually lifted his head, pressing soft kisses to your jaw, your cheek, your lips. His eyes were soft, full of something deeper than just satisfaction. You kissed him back, slow and gentle, letting the moment stretch.

· · • • • ✤ • • • · ·

Everything settled around you quietly in the aftermath, the air thick with the scent of sweat and sex.

He finally lifted his head, eyes soft and searching as they met yours. His thumb brushed gently over your cheek, wiping away a stray bead of sweat.

“You okay?” he asked, voice low and a little hoarse. “Did I go too hard at the end?”

You shook your head, offering a small, tired smile. “It was good, I am okay.”

Jungkook’s expression softened further. He pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead, then your lips, slow and sweet. “Good,” he murmured. “Stay right here. I’ll be back in a second.”

After disposing of the condom in the bathroom, he returned with a warm, damp cloth and gently cleaned between your thighs with careful strokes. The tenderness of it made your chest tighten. He was always like this afterward — attentive, quiet, careful, never rushing you out of the moment.

Once he was done, he tossed the cloth aside and pulled you into his arms again, skin still warm and slightly sticky against yours.

“Want to take a shower together?” he asked softly, fingers tracing lazy patterns along your spine. “Or I can make you something to eat first. You hungry?”

You hesitated for a second, then nodded. “Shower sounds nice.”

He helped you up from the couch, your legs still a little shaky, and led you to the bathroom. The water was warm when he turned it on, steam quickly filling the small space. You both stepped under the spray, and Jungkook immediately pulled you close again, back to his chest, arms looped around your waist. The water cascaded over both of you, washing away the evidence of what you’d just done.

He reached for the soap, lathering it between his hands before running them slowly over your body — shoulders, arms, breasts, stomach. His touch stayed gentle. You leaned back into him, letting the hot water soothe your muscles.

“You’ve been quiet,” he said after a while, voice barely louder than the running water. “More than usual. Talk to me. What’s going on in that head of yours?”

You swallowed hard, the guilt that had been pushed aside during sex now rushing back in full force. Jungkook’s hands paused on your hips, patient as always, waiting for you to find the words.

“I don’t know,” you started, voice small. “Today with Noah… it just messed me up again. The same stupid cycle. And then I come here and… this happens.” You gestured vaguely between the two of you. “It feels good, yes. You always make it feel good. But I keep thinking maybe we shouldn’t keep doing this.”

Jungkook’s arms tightened slightly around you, but his voice stayed calm. “Because of Noah?”

You nodded, eyes stinging a little. “Yeah. I still… I still like him. Or I want to make it work with him. We have these moments where it feels like we could be something real, you know? And then I ruin it by running to you every time things get hard. And I know it’s not fair to you.”

He was quiet for a long moment, just holding you under the spray, hands resuming their slow, soapy path over your skin. “I told you before,” he said eventually, pressing a kiss to your wet shoulder. “I’m okay with it. If this is what you need, I’m here. I don’t regret any of it.”

“But I do,” you whispered. The words slipped out before you could stop them. “Well.. not because it doesn’t feel right with you. It does. And that’s the problem. It feels too right sometimes. And that scares me because I’m supposed to be figuring things out with someone else. I can’t keep using you like this, Jungkook. You deserve someone who chooses you first. Not someone who only shows up when they need a distraction.”

The shower water continued to fall, steam swirling around you both. Jungkook turned you gently in his arms so you were facing him. His hair was wet and pushed back, water droplets clinging to his lashes. He looked at you with that same steady gaze that always made your resolve waver.

“I know you still want to try with Noah,” he said quietly. “I’m not asking you to stop. I just… I care about you. A lot. And if this helps you even a little, then it’s worth it to me.” He cupped your face, thumbs brushing water from your cheeks. “But if you want us to stop, we can. Just say the word.”

You leaned into his touch, eyes closing for a moment. Part of you wanted to take it back immediately, to tell him you didn’t mean it and pull him close again. But the other part — the louder one right now — knew you couldn’t keep doing this forever. It was getting messier. It was getting real.

“I think we should stop,” you said finally, the words heavy on your tongue. “At least for a while... I need to actually try to fix things with Noah instead of running away every time it gets difficult. And you… you need to stop letting me do this to you.”

Jungkook’s jaw tightened, but he nodded slowly. “If that’s what you want.” His voice was soft, but you caught the flicker of something painful in his eyes before he hid it. He pulled you into a tight hug under the water, chin resting on top of your head. “I’ll always be here for you, angel. As your best friend. That part doesn’t change.”

You hugged him back, your throat suddenly feels tight. The water kept falling, washing over your joined bodies, but it couldn’t rinse away the complicated knot of emotions in your chest. Being close to him like this felt so safe. Stopping would hurt. But continuing would hurt him more in the long run.

You were sure of it.

After the shower, he gave you one of his clean t-shirts to wear. You both moved to the kitchen in the comfortable silence. Jungkook made you a simple sandwich while you sat on the counter, legs swinging, watching him. The domesticity felt.. good. But it also made you feel more guilty.

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me,” he said as he slid the plate toward you. “I get it. Noah’s the one you want to make it work with. I’ve always known that.”

You took a bite, chewing slowly. “It doesn’t mean I don’t care about you,” you said quietly. “Because I do. More than I probably should.”

Jungkook leaned against the counter across from you, arms crossed over his bare chest. A small, sad smile touched his lips. “I know. That’s why this is kind of complicated.”

The conversation drifted after that — lighter topics, old memories, anything to fill the space between you. But the decision hung there. You would try to make things right with Noah. You would stop using Jungkook as your emotional and physical escape. And he would let you, because that was the kind of person he was.

Later, when you were curled up on the couch again in his t-shirt, head on his chest, you wondered how long you could actually stick to that promise.

Because even now, safe in his arms with the steady beat of his heart under your ear, part of you already missed what you were trying to end.

· · • • • ✤ • • • · ·

You had drifted off on his chest, body soft and trusting against his, breathing slow and even. Jungkook hadn’t moved. He couldn’t bring himself to. One arm stayed wrapped around your back, hand resting lightly between your shoulder blades, feeling every rise and fall of your breath through the thin fabric of his t-shirt you wore. The other hand rested on your thigh where it had draped over his lap, thumb tracing absent, soothing circles that had long since lost their purpose except to keep himself grounded.

He stared at the ceiling for a long time, the faint glow from the living room lamp casting soft shadows across the room. The weight of you on top of him was both comfort and torture. You fit against him so perfectly it made his chest ache in a way he had grown used to hiding.

Jungkook had been in love with you for years.

It wasn’t the kind of love that announced itself loudly or demanded anything in return. It had grown slowly, quietly, in the spaces between late-night talks and shared silences, in the way you always came to him first when the world felt too overwhelming.

He remembered the exact moment it had shifted for him — years ago, when you showed up at his door after a bad fight with your family, eyes red and voice cracking. He had held you then, just like now, and something inside him had cracked open and never quite closed again. You weren’t just his best friend. You were the person he measured everyone else against. The one who made ordinary days feel brighter simply by existing in them.

And yet here you were. Asleep on his chest after he had been inside you, after he had tasted you and held you and tried to give you everything you needed to feel better. Only for you to wake up tomorrow and choose someone else again.

His jaw tightened. Noah. That idiot who couldn’t see how lucky he was to even have your attention. Jungkook had watched the cycle for months — the fights, the make-ups, the way you tried to excuse his actions, only to come running back here when it all fell apart. He hated it. Not because he thought he was better than Noah, (though some ugly part of him whispered that he was). He hated it because it hurt you. And every time it hurt you, it hurt him twice as much.

He tilted his head slightly, looking down at your face. Your lashes cast faint shadows on your cheeks, lips slightly parted in sleep. You looked so peaceful like this, all the tension from earlier smoothed away. Jungkook’s heart clenched painfully. He loved the way you looked when you were asleep on him. Like nothing in the world could touch you while he was holding you. Like you were his. Like you felt safe with him and him only.

He wanted to be that for you every single night. Not just on the nights when someone else let you down.

His mind drifted through memories unbidden. The time you both stayed up until sunrise talking about nothing and everything, your head in his lap while he played with your hair. The way you had laughed at his terrible attempts at cooking and then helped him salvage dinner anyway. The quiet nights where you would fall asleep during movies and he would carry you to his bed, tucking you in without ever crossing the line until you started crossing it first. He had tried so hard to keep his feelings locked away. When you had first kissed him almost a year ago, desperate and hurting, he had told himself it was just comfort. That he could handle being whatever you needed. But every time you came back, every time you chose him in those moments, it carved the love deeper into his bones until it became impossible to ignore.

He was tired of pretending it didn’t destroy him a little more each time.

Jungkook exhaled slowly, careful not to wake you. His hand continued its gentle stroking along your back. You shifted slightly in your sleep, pressing closer to him with a tiny sigh, and the simple movement made his throat tighten. How could you not see it? How could you not feel how completely he belonged to you? He would give up anything if it meant you looked at him the way he looked at you. Not as a distraction. Not as a safe place to fall when things got hard. But as the person you chose first. The person you fought for.

Instead you kept choosing Noah. The guy who argued with you over small things. The guy who made you doubt yourself. Jungkook had seen the way your face fell after every fight, the way you carried the pain of it until you ended up here. He wanted to tell you that you deserved someone who made the good days outnumber the bad ones. Someone who saw how incredible you were and fought to keep you happy.

Someone like him.

But he never said it. Because you had made your choice clear tonight. You wanted to try with Noah. You wanted to stop this thing between you two. And as much as it killed him, he would respect it. He would swallow the words he had wanted to say for years — I love you. I’ve always loved you. Let me be the one. — and go back to being the best friend who was always there when you needed him.

Even if it meant watching you walk toward someone who didn’t deserve you.

Jungkook closed his eyes for a moment, letting the steady rhythm of your breathing comfort him. He loved the way you smelled after showers, like his soap and something uniquely you. He loved how your body fit perfectly against his, how your hand would unconsciously fist his shirt in your sleep. He loved your laugh, your stubbornness, the way your eyes lit up when you talked about things you were passionate about. He loved you in all the quiet ways that never got spoken out loud.

And because he loved you, he would let you go try to make it work with Noah. He would smile and support you and be there to pick up the pieces if it fell apart again. Even if every time it did, it broke something else inside him.

Minutes turned into what felt like hours.

Jungkook memorized every detail — the way your hair fell across your face, the faint flutter of your lashes in dreams, the warmth of your breath against his collarbone. He wanted to remember this. Just in case things really did change after tonight. Just in case this was one of the last times he got to hold you like this.

Eventually, when he was sure you were deeply asleep, he spoke. The words came out barely above a whisper, rough with everything he had been holding back.

“Silly girl,” he murmured, lips brushing the top of your head. “You’re choosing that idiot when I would burn the whole world down just to keep you smiling. He doesn’t see you. Not the way I do. Not the way you deserve to be seen.”

He swallowed hard, voice cracking just slightly.

“I love you, ___. I’ve loved you for so fucking long. And I’ll keep loving you even if you never choose me.”

The confession hung in the quiet air, heard by no one but him. You didn’t stir. Jungkook pressed another soft kiss to your hair, tightening his hold around you just a fraction. He would carry this moment with him. The sound of your breathing. Your warmth. The love that filled every corner of his chest even as he prepared himself to let you walk away.

But for now, he just held you. And tried to pretend tomorrow wouldn’t hurt as much as he knew it would.

⊱ ──── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ──── ⊰

𝗹𝘂𝘃𝗶’𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲𝘀 :: fun fact; this oneshot was originally titled distraction. but because i took approximately a million years to actually write it, and by the time i was ready to finish it, hate that i made you love me had already come out and i was just like... oh. yeah. perfect. thank you ms. ariana 🙂‍↕️

i also wrote an alternate ending for this oneshot! in the alt version, jungkook is a lot more.. angrier, and refuses to let go of their whole fwb situation, so... yeah, angry sex basically.

i've uploaded it on my patreon under the ARCHIVE tier! if you'd like to read it, you can find it here: alternate ending — 5.6k words

The rain fell in steady, slanted sheets, soaking through every layer and blurring the world around you. You walked with your arms wrapped around yourself, shoes slapping against the wet pavement.

The fight with Noah still looped in your head — sharp words over nothing, really, the same stupid pattern that had worn grooves into the last few months. One minute you were laughing at the same joke, the next you were picking apart each other’s tone, intentions, everything. Today it had ended with him slamming the door on his way out of the café, leaving you sitting there with lukewarm coffee and the heavy feeling that maybe this was all it would ever be: good days that never quite outweighed the rest.

By the time you reached Jungkook’s street, the sky had gone darker, the downpour thicker. His house sat quiet at the end of the block, porch light glowing soft gold through the curtain of rain. You climbed the three familiar steps and pressed the doorbell once, twice, three times — the rhythm you’d used since you were teenagers, back when his sister would yell at you both for letting cold air inside.

Water streamed down your face, plastered your hair to your neck, dripped from the hem of your jacket onto the welcome mat. You didn’t knock again. You just stood there, letting the rain do what it wanted, because moving felt pointless.

The door opened sooner than you expected.

Jungkook filled the frame, dark hair tousled like he’d run a hand through it moments ago, wearing an old black t-shirt and grey sweatpants. His eyes widened the second he saw you — concern pulling his brows together, mouth parting around a soft breath.

“Hey,” he said, voice low and careful.

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. The ache in your chest rose too fast, pressing against your ribs until it hurt to breathe. Instead you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him, face turning into the warm space between his shoulder and neck. He smelled like laundry soap and coffee he probably drank before you rang the doorbell. Your wet hair left dark patches on his shirt instantly.

Jungkook didn’t flinch at all. His arms came around you without hesitation, one hand settling between your shoulder blades, the other lower on your back, holding you steady. The rain kept falling behind you, drumming on the porch roof, but inside the circle of his embrace the sound felt muffled, and distant. He was warm — always so warm — and the contrast made you shiver harder for a moment before his hold tightened, grounding you.

“Shit, you’re freezing,” he murmured against your temple, breath stirring your wet strands. He didn’t pull away. If anything, he shifted closer, letting you burrow in deeper, one palm rubbing slow circles over your soaked jacket like he could chase the chill out through sheer stubbornness. You felt his heartbeat, steady and quickening just a little.

You stayed like that for a long stretch of seconds, maybe minutes. The rain kept pouring, but Jungkook simply stood there in the open doorway, letting it splatter onto his bare feet and the floorboards behind him. His chin rested lightly on top of your head. Every so often his fingers flexed against your back, a silent check that you were still there, still breathing.

Eventually he spoke again, softer this time. “Come on. Let’s get you inside before you catch a cold or something.” He eased back just enough to look at your face, his gaze searching — taking in the redness around your eyes, the way your lips pressed thin. His thumb brushed a droplet from your cheek, the touch feather-light. “Noah?”

He knew. Somehow, he always knew.

You gave a small nod, throat too tight for words. The admission felt pathetic even in silence. Months of this back-and-forth with Noah, chasing moments of real connection only for them to slip through your fingers like water. And here you were, running straight to Jungkook every single time the cracks showed. He never made you explain more than you wanted. He just took the pieces you brought him and held them gently.

Jungkook’s jaw tightened for a flicker, something unreadable passing behind his eyes, but it vanished before you could name it. He guided you inside with a hand at your elbow, kicking the door shut behind you. The sudden quiet of the house wrapped around you like a blanket — the low hum of the heater, the faint scent of whatever he’d cooked for dinner earlier.

“Stay right here,” he said, already moving toward the hallway closet. He returned with two thick towels, draping one over your shoulders and using the second to gently squeeze water from your hair. His movements were efficient but careful, the way they always were when he was worried. Droplets fell onto the towel in dark spots. You watched his fingers work, the small silver ring he wore on his right hand catching the light.

“You didn’t have to come all the way here in this mess, You could've asked me to come over.” he added, but there was no scolding in it — only quiet fondness edged with that same concern. He crouched a little to meet your eyes again, towel still in hand. “But I’m glad you came to me anyway.”

You swallowed, the lump in your throat easing just enough. “Didn’t know what to do and.. where else to go.” The words came out hoarse, barely above a whisper. Rainwater still trickled down your neck, but the towel helped, and so did his closeness. Jungkook’s living room stretched behind him — familiar posters and paintings on the walls, the couch where you’d fallen asleep during too many late-night movies, the guitar in the corner he picked up when he needed to think.

He led you further in, peeling your soaked jacket off your shoulders and hanging it on the hook by the door. Water pooled beneath it immediately. “Go sit. I’ll grab you something dry.” Before you could protest, he disappeared into his bedroom and came back with one of his oversized black hoodies and a pair of sweatpants that would be comically long on you. “Bathroom’s yours. Change before you actually freeze.”

In the bathroom you stripped out of your wet clothes, the fabric clinging stubbornly to your skin. The mirror showed a girl with tired eyes and rain-flushed cheeks.

You look away.

Then you pulled on Jungkook’s hoodie; it smelled like him, fabric soft and worn from a hundred washes. The sleeves swallowed your hands.

When you stepped back out, he had already wiped up the water trail on the floor and set a mug of something steaming on the coffee table — probably the herbal tea he kept around because he knew you liked it on bad days.

You padded over on bare feet and sank onto the couch. Jungkook dropped down beside you, close enough that your knees brushed. He didn’t push for the full story right away. Instead he picked up the towel again and resumed drying the ends of your hair with slow, careful strokes, his focus narrowed like nothing else mattered.

“Tell me what happened,” he said eventually, voice low. “Or don’t. Whatever you need, angel.”

You leaned into his side, letting your head rest against his shoulder. The fight replayed in fragments: Noah’s frustrated sigh, the way he’d said your name like it annoyed him, your own sharp retort that had only made things worse. The constant push and pull that left you wondering why you kept trying.

Jungkook listened without interrupting, his arm slipping around your shoulders once more. His fingers traced idle patterns on your sleeve — small, soothing circles that matched the rhythm of the rain still tapping at the windows.

Minutes stretched. The tea cooled untouched. Outside, the storm showed no sign of letting up, but inside, the warmth of the house and Jungkook’s steady presence slowly loosened the knot in your chest. You turned your face toward him, studying the line of his jaw, the way his lashes cast faint shadows when he looked down at you.

He met your gaze, his expression softening further. “You’re gonna be okay,” he murmured, the promise simple and sure. His hand found yours, fingers lacing together without asking. “I'm here for you.”

You squeezed back, letting the silence settle around you both. The rain continued its steady song, but it felt less lonely now. Here, in the quiet glow of his living room, wrapped in his hoodie and his concern, the ache from earlier dulled to something more manageable.

You didn’t know how long you stayed like that — heads close, breathing in sync — but for the first time that day, the world outside the front door felt a little farther away.

It felt good.

Ten minutes later. You both still stayed silent.

Jungkook stayed close on the couch, his arm draped around your shoulders, thumb tracing slow arcs over the sleeve of his own hoodie. The fabric still carried his warmth, wrapping you in it like an extra layer of safety.

“Remember that time in tenth grade?” he said, voice low and easy, the way it got when he was trying to pull you out of your head. “When you showed up at my door after that fight with your mom. You were soaked then too — except it was from the sprinkler you accidentally set off trying to climb the fence and fell.” A small smile tugged at his mouth. “You had grass in your hair and looked so mad. I made you hot chocolate with extra marshmallows, the ones that were basically just sugar. We stayed up until three watching those terrible horror movies you hated but pretended to like just to prove a point.”

You let out a quiet laugh, the sound surprising even you. It came out shaky at first, then a little lighter, loosening something tight in your chest. The memory flashed bright — his old bedroom with the cracked ceiling light, the way he’d thrown popcorn at the screen every time the killer appeared, both of you ending up laughing so hard his sister banged on the wall. For a moment the ache from Noah felt smaller, pushed back by the familiar comfort of Jungkook’s stories.

He chuckled softly too, the vibration rumbling through his chest. “See? There it is. There's the smile.” His fingers brushed a stray strand of damp hair from your forehead, lingering just a second longer than necessary. The gesture was gentle, almost careful, like he was handling something fragile. You leaned into him more, letting the quiet stretch between you. No pressure to fill it. Just the two of you, the low glow of the lamp, and the rain keeping the rest of the world at bay.

You stayed wrapped in that moment, letting his presence chase away the sharper edges of the day. The hoodie sleeves bunched around your wrists as you curled closer, inhaling the faint scent of his detergent mixed with the warmth of his skin. Jungkook didn’t rush. He never did. Instead he rested his cheek against the top of your head, breath even and calm, like simply holding you was enough to fix whatever had cracked open inside you. The couch cushions dipped under your combined weight, and the heater hummed low in the background, pushing back the chill that still clung to your bones.

You could feel the tension in your shoulders easing, muscle by muscle, as his fingers worked their way through the damp strands at the nape of your neck. It was the kind of comfort that didn’t need grand gestures — it was just this, just him, steady as always.

Then your phone rang.

The sound cut through the calm, muffled but insistent from the pocket of your soaked jacket hanging by the door. You stiffened against him. Jungkook glanced toward it, then back at you, his brows drawing together slightly.

“I’ll get it,” he said, already rising. He crossed the room in a few steps, fishing the phone out. Water dripped from the jacket as he pulled the device free, leaving small puddles on the floorboards. His expression shifted when he looked at the screen — something guarded sliding into place, jaw tightening just a fraction.

“It’s Noah.”

Your stomach twisted sharply.

“No.”

The word left you fast and flat. You shook your head, pulling the hoodie sleeves over your hands like a shield. “I don’t want to talk to him. Not right now.”

Jungkook didn’t hesitate. He silenced the call with a swipe of his thumb, then set the phone face-down on the coffee table with a quiet thud. The screen lit up once more with another incoming ring before fading to black for good. He wiped his damp fingers on his sweatpants and came back to the couch, settling beside you again, closer this time, his knee pressing firmly against yours.

“You don’t have to,” he murmured, picking up right where the comfort had left off. His hand found yours, warm fingers wrapping around your cooler ones, squeezing gently. “Whatever’s going on with him… you don’t owe him your night. Not when it leaves you like this.” He paused, searching your face with those dark eyes that always saw too much. The concern lingered there, deep and genuine, but something else flickered underneath — deeper, quieter, a shadow of protectiveness he tried to keep tucked away. “You want to keep talking about it? Or… do you need a distraction?”

The word hung between you, loaded with everything it meant. Your mind spun immediately, pulling up memories you tried not to examine too closely.

Distraction.

It wasn’t new or sudden. It had started almost a year ago on another night much like this — one where words had failed you completely and touches had said everything else instead. What began as a single moment of desperate closeness had quietly become a habit between you two.

You’d lose yourself in him when everything else felt too sharp, too overwhelming, and he never turned you away. Not even once.

You’d talked about it once, late at night with limbs still tangled and breathing uneven in the dark, your voice hesitant as you admitted it felt wrong sometimes, like you were using him to patch up the holes other people left behind. He’d just pulled you closer, voice rough against your skin, fingers tracing lazy patterns along your spine. “It’s okay. Use me all you want, angel.”

It sounded bad when he laid it out like that. Selfish. Messy. You hated that it had become your pattern, especially when you knew how easily it could blur lines you weren’t ready to cross. Especially when you caught the way he sometimes looked at you afterward — like he was waiting for something more, even if he never pushed for it out loud. You hated that you kept coming back anyway, because with him it felt safe and electric all at once. Because he understood the cracks in you without needing explanations, and in those moments, nothing else mattered. Noah’s fights left you raw and unsteady, but Jungkook always made the ground feel solid again, even if only temporarily.

It sounds wrong, but it was just how you two were. Complicated in ways neither of you named out loud.

You met Jungkook’s gaze, fingers tightening around his until your knuckles brushed. The choice sat heavy in your chest, guilt and need twisting together. “Distraction,” you whispered, the word barely audible.

Something flickered across his face — relief mixed with that same quiet intensity he tried to hide behind his usual calm. He didn’t question it. He never did. Instead he leaned in slowly, forehead resting against yours for a long breath, giving you one final moment to change your mind. His hand came up to cup your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek with a tenderness that always undid you, tracing the faint dampness still lingering there from the rain.

“Okay,” he said softly, the word warm against your lips before he closed the distance.

His kiss started slow, almost careful, lips moving against yours with a patience that made your pulse quicken. You shifted closer, knees pressing into the couch as you leaned into him, fingers curling into the front of his t-shirt, the fabric bunched under your grip.

Jungkook’s other hand found your waist, drawing you in until you were half in his lap, the oversized hoodie riding up your thighs. He broke the kiss just long enough to murmur your name against your mouth, low and rough, before diving back in deeper.

The comforting moment from earlier melted seamlessly into this. His touches shifting from soothing to something hungrier. One hand slid beneath the hem of the hoodie, palm flat against the bare skin of your back, fingers spreading wide as if to claim every inch. You shivered — not from cold this time, but from the contrast of his heat against your still-damp body. He noticed, of course, pulling back slightly to search your eyes, breath mingling with yours.

“You sure?” he asked, voice a quiet rumble, even as his thumb traced small circles just above the waistband of the borrowed sweatpants. Always checking, always giving you the out.

You nodded, leaning forward to kiss him again instead of answering with words. This time you took the lead a little more, nipping at his bottom lip until he exhaled sharply, grip tightening on your hips. The rain continued its steady patter outside, a constant backdrop that made the inside of his house feel even more intimate.

Jungkook’s hands explored with familiar ease, one slipping higher under the hoodie to trace the curve of your ribs, the other anchoring you against him. You could feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat through his chest, faster now, matching the growing heat between you. Memories of the past year flickered through your mind in fragments — the first time this had happened after a particularly brutal argument with your family, the way he’d held you through the aftermath without expectation; the nights where you’d shown up unannounced and he’d simply opened the door, knowing what you needed without asking. It had felt right then, natural, like two puzzle pieces that fit even when the bigger picture remained unclear.

But now, with Noah’s name still lingering on your silenced phone, the guilt twisted sharper. You knew this might be leading him on, feeding something deeper in him that you couldn’t quite return. Yet you couldn’t stop. Not when his mouth moved to your neck, pressing open kisses along the sensitive skin there, teeth grazing lightly in a way that pulled a soft sound from your throat.

He smiled against your collarbone, the curve of his lips warm and knowing. “Still with me?” he murmured, hands sliding down to grip your thighs, encouraging you to settle more fully in his lap. The position brought you flush against him, and the evidence of his own want pressed insistently between you.

“Still with you.” you managed, voice breathy as you rocked against him experimentally. His fingers dug in slightly, a low groan escaping him that vibrated through your shared space. The comforting memory from earlier felt distant now, replaced by this building urgency, yet the tenderness never fully left his touches. Even as things heated up, he remained attentive — pausing to kiss your temple when you shivered, whispering quiet reassurances between kisses, making sure every move felt wanted.

You tugged at his t-shirt, impatient suddenly, and he helped you pull it over his head, revealing the familiar tattoos on his chest that you’d traced countless times before. Your hands roamed over his skin, feeling the way his muscles shifted under your palms, the quick intake of breath when your nails grazed lower. Jungkook captured your mouth again, deeper this time, tongue sliding against yours in a rhythm that mirrored the growing need. One of his hands slipped fully beneath the sweatpants, cupping you intimately, fingers teasing with practiced knowledge of exactly what made your hips jerk forward.

The guilt flickered again — this habit of turning to him, using these moments as an escape — but it dissolved under the heat of his attention. He flipped you gently onto your back on the couch, hovering above you with dark eyes locked on yours. The hoodie had ridden up completely now, bunching around your chest, and he took his time peeling the rest of the clothes away, lips following the path of his hands. Every kiss, every touch carried that same mix of comfort and desire, reminding you why this felt so dangerously easy.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he whispered against your stomach, breath hot as he worked his way lower. But it wasn’t too much. It was exactly what you needed — the distraction pulling you under, washing away the echoes of Noah’s voice and the rain outside. Jungkook knew your body like his own, responding to every sigh and shift with perfect timing, drawing out the pleasure until your fingers tangled in his hair and your back arched off the cushions.

His mouth brushed feather-light at first, a kiss to the sensitive skin of your inner thigh that made your breath catch. Then lower, softer, his lips pressing warm against your center. The first slow drag of his tongue pulled a quiet sound from you. He hummed in response, the vibration traveling through you in a gentle wave.

Jungkook took his time, every movement unhurried and attentive. His tongue traced slow, careful paths, exploring with a softness that matched the comfort from earlier. No rush, no intensity that overwhelmed you — it was just steady, warm pressure that built in quiet layers. He lingered where you responded most, learning the small shifts in your breathing, the way your hips twitched when he found the right angle. One hand stayed on your thigh, holding you open with gentle strength, thumb stroking soothing patterns against your skin while the other rested on your stomach, feeling the flutter of your breaths.

“Angel, you taste divine.” he murmured against you, voice low and rough with want, the words vibrating softly. “Fucking divine.” The praise settled warm in your chest, easing the last remnants of tension from the day. He returned to his task with renewed focus, tongue moving in languid strokes that drew out every sensation. The rain outside seemed to fade further, replaced by the quiet sounds of his mouth and your uneven breathing filling the living room.

Your back arched slightly as the pleasure deepened, not in sharp bursts but in a slow, rolling warmth that spread through your limbs.

Your fingers reached down and tightened in his hair. Jungkook responded with a soft sound of his own, pressing closer, shoulders flexing under your touch. He kept the rhythm steady, long, slow licks along your pussy. Then he followed by pulling his hand lower, fingers gently circling your clit with slow, feather-light touches. Every few moments he paused just enough to kiss your inner thigh or hip, lips warm and damp, whispering quiet praises against your skin.

“Relax for me,” he breathed, tongue flicking softly over your clit again. “Let me take care of you.” The words sank into you, warm and reassuring. His mouth returned, hotter now, tongue moving with patient dedication over your pussy, lapping and circling your swollen clit in unhurried strokes. Pleasure grew in slow, rolling waves, pulling soft gasps from your throat. Your free hand gripped the couch cushion as the feeling built without ever becoming too much.

He stayed completely focused on you, reading every small reaction — the subtle roll of your hips, the way your thighs trembled against his shoulders.

The heat and softness of his mouth working your pussy, tongue stroking and teasing your clit with careful persistence. The distraction worked its magic, Noah’s voice dissolving completely under the steady attention, leaving only Jungkook and the safety of his mouth on you.

“You’re doing so well,” he praised, voice muffled and low between slow licks. “Just like that… feel how wet you are for me.” He sucked gently on your clit, then soothed it with the flat of his tongue. “Touch yourself, ___. Rub your clit for me while I eat you.”

Your hand moved almost on its own, sliding down to join him. Fingers rubbed slow circles over your clit as his tongue dipped lower, licking along your entrance and back up again, tasting you thoroughly. The combined sensation made your breath shake. Jungkook groaned softly in approval, the sound vibrating against your pussy.

“That’s it,” he murmured, eyes flicking up to watch you. “Keep rubbing just like that. You look so pretty like this.” His tongue kept working in steady, devoted strokes, licking and circling in time with your fingers. “You’re getting so close, aren’t you?”

Your moans grew quieter and breathier. The build was gradual, almost dreamlike, heat coiling tighter and tighter in your belly until it finally crested in a slow, shuddering release.

Your back arched, fingers still gripping his hair and your other hand against your own clit as the waves washed through you, pussy pulsing under his tongue. Jungkook stayed with you through every tremor, licking you, drawing it out until the last aftershocks faded and your thighs stopped trembling.

Only then did he ease back, pressing one final soft kiss to your clit before lifting his head. His lips were flushed and glossy, eyes dark and tender as they met yours. Jungkook didn’t wipe his mouth. Instead he ran his tongue slowly over his lower lip, savoring the taste of you with a quiet hum that sent another faint shiver through your body. The sight of him like that — lips shining with evidence of what he’d just done, no shame, no rush to clean it away — made something twist low in your stomach. He looked like he loved it. Like he could stay between your thighs for hours if you let him.

He crawled up your body slowly, the couch dipping under his weight as he settled over you. One hand braced beside your head, the other brushing damp strands of hair from your face. His eyes held yours for a long second before he leaned down and kissed you. Soft. So soft it almost made you moan. The taste of yourself lingered on his tongue, faint and intimate, mixing with the familiar warmth of him. You sighed into the kiss, fingers threading back into his hair, pulling him closer.

There was nothing hurried in it. Just slow presses of lips, gentle tilts of heads, breaths shared in the small spaces between. Jungkook kissed you like he had all the time in the world. His tongue brushed yours lazily, it was not demanding, but just tasting and wanting to explore you more. Every so often he would pull back just enough to nip at your bottom lip or press a softer kiss to the corner of your mouth, then return like he couldn’t stay away long. Skin brushed skin in small, warm touches — his bare chest pressed against your breasts, your nipples brushing against his chest with every slow shift of his body, his hips settling comfortably between your spread thighs.

You melted under the gentle rhythm of it, letting the aftershocks of your orgasm fade into this new kind of warmth. His hand cupped your jaw, thumb stroking your cheek in time with the slow glide of his mouth. A quiet sound slipped from him, almost a sigh, and you felt it vibrate a little against your lips. The kiss deepened just a fraction, still soft, still careful. Minutes passed just like that — lazy, lingering kisses that made your head feel light and your body heavy with contentment. The quiet house settled around you, a constant backdrop to the wet sounds of mouths moving together and the soft, occasional moans slipping from your lips.

Eventually Jungkook pulled back, forehead resting against yours, breathing a little heavier. His lips were even glossier now, slightly swollen. He licked them again, eyes half-lidded as he looked at you. A small, almost shy smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Let me get a condom.” he murmured.

He pressed one last soft kiss to your lips before pushing himself up. The sudden absence of his warmth made the air feel cooler against your skin. You watched him walk toward his bedroom, bare feet quiet on the floor, the muscles in his back shifting with each step. The sight of him — still hard, moving with that easy confidence — stirred something complicated in your chest.

As soon as he disappeared into the room, your thoughts rushed in.

This wasn’t right. Not at all.

You like Noah. Or at least you think you do.

The fights, the misunderstandings, the way he could make you laugh on the good days… that was supposed to mean something. Yet here you were, legs still trembling from Jungkook’s mouth, lips tingling from his kisses, waiting for him to come back so you could fuck him like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Fuck.

Guilt twisted sharp and sudden. You were using him again. Using your best friend as a distraction because facing your own mess with Noah felt too heavy. Jungkook deserved better than this — better than being the safe place you ran to when someone else hurt you. Better than being wanted only when you were falling apart.

But God, it felt good with him.

It felt so safe in a way Noah had never managed. Jungkook never made you explain yourself. He never got frustrated when your moods shifted or when words failed you. He just… took you as you were. And that made the guilt worse. Because you knew, deep down, that the way he looked at you sometimes wasn’t just friendly.

The way he held you, the way he licked his lips like he could never get enough of your taste — it all pointed to something more. Something you weren’t ready to name or return. Not when your head was still tangled up with Noah and the stupid hope that maybe one day the fights would stop and things would finally make sense with him.

You heard Jungkook rummaging in the bedroom drawer. The sound pulled you back for a moment, but the thoughts kept spinning. What if you were ruining him? What if every time you chose this distraction, you were making it harder for him to move on, to find someone who could actually love him the way he deserved? You hated that part of yourself — the part that kept coming back because it was easy, because he made you feel wanted without conditions.

You like someone else. You are supposed to be figuring that out. Instead you're spread out on Jungkook’s couch, naked, pussy still wet from his tongue, waiting for him to fuck you so you could forget for a little while longer.

The self-disgust sat heavy in your throat. Yet you didn’t move. You didn’t call out to stop him. Because underneath all the guilt was the truth you didn’t want to face.

The way he knew exactly how to touch you, how to kiss you, how to make the world shrink down until only the two of you existed. It was addictive. Dangerous.

Then you hear footsteps approaching.

Jungkook came back, condom packet in hand, tearing it open as he walked. His eyes found yours immediately, softening when he saw you still lying there, waiting. He rolled it on with practiced movements, then climbed back onto the couch, settling between your legs again.

He leaned down, kissing you once more, like he could sense the storm in your head and wanted to quiet it. “You okay?” he whispered against your mouth.

You nodded, fingers tracing the line of his jaw. The thoughts were still there, loud and messy, but the warmth of his body against yours started to push them back. He positioned himself at your entrance, the blunt head of his cock nudging against your slick folds.

“Fuck.” you both groan.

Then he pushed in — slowly, carefully, inch by inch.

The stretch pulled you sharply out of your head. Your eyes fluttered, lips parting on a quiet gasp as he filled you completely. The feeling was overwhelming in the best way possible, grounding you instantly in the present. There were no more spiraling thoughts. Just the thick, solid heat of him inside you, the way your walls clenched around him, the soft groan he let out against your neck.

Jungkook stilled once he was fully seated, forehead pressed to yours, breathing shaky. “fuck me,” he murmured, voice strained with the effort of holding still. One hand stroked your side soothingly, waiting for you to adjust, so careful even now.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer, and for a moment everything else — the guilt, Noah, the complicated mess of your feelings — faded into the background.

There was only this. Only him. Only Jungkook.

He started moving then, deep thrusts that dragged against every sensitive spot inside you. Each roll of his hips was deliberate, controlled, like he wanted to feel all of you. His chest brushed your breasts with every motion, nipples grazing in a way that sent little jolts straight to your core. One of his hands slid under your ass, tilting your hips up slightly to change the angle, and the new depth pulled a broken moan from your throat.

“That’s it, angel.” he praised softly, lips brushing your ear. “Let me hear you. You sound so pretty when I’m inside you.”

The praise made heat flood your face and your pussy clench around him. He groaned at the feeling, pace picking up just a fraction while still staying deep and steady. The couch creaked quietly beneath you with every thrust, the sound mixing with the wet slide of his cock moving in and out of your soaked pussy. You met his movements, rolling your hips up to take him deeper, fingers digging into his shoulders.

Jungkook kissed you again, messy and breathless this time, tongues sliding together as he fucked you. His free hand roamed your body — cupping your breast, pinching your nipple gently, then sliding down to where you were joined, thumb finding your clit and rubbing firm circles. The added stimulation made your back arch, pushing your chest harder against his.

“Jungkook…” you gasped against his mouth.

“I know,” he whispered. “I’ve got you. I'm here. Just feel me.”

He kept the rhythm consistent, hips snapping forward with controlled power. Every thrust hit that perfect spot inside you, sending waves of pleasure radiating outward. His thumb never stopped its steady circling on your clit, slick with your arousal. Sweat started to bead on his skin, making your bodies slide together even more easily. The room filled with the sounds of skin meeting skin, your shared breathing, and the occasional soft curse or moan.

Right now, all that mattered was the way he filled you, the way he looked at you like you were the only thing in his world, the way his body moved against yours like it was made for this.

He shifted slightly, hooking one of your legs higher over his arm, opening you up more. The new angle made him hit even deeper, and your moan came out louder, unrestrained. Jungkook’s eyes darkened further at the sound.

“Yeah? Right there?” he asked, voice husky. He angled his hips to hit the same spot again and again, thumb pressing firmer on your clit. “Come on, angel. I want to feel you come around my cock.”

The words sent a fresh rush of heat through you. Your pussy clenched tightly around him, drawing a low groan from deep in his chest. He kept fucking you steadily, deep and relentless, never losing the rhythm. Sweat slicked both your bodies now, the couch cushions damp beneath you. Your fingers reached and dug into his back, nails leaving faint marks as the pleasure coiled tighter and tighter in your belly.

Jungkook leaned down, capturing one of your nipples in his mouth, sucking gently while his hips kept moving. The dual sensation — his mouth on your breasts and his cock stretching you open — pushed you closer to the edge. You could feel your orgasm building.

“Don’t hold back,” he murmured against your skin, switching to the other nipple, tongue flicking over the sensitive peak. “Come for me. Let go, angel.”

His thumb sped up on your clit, small tight circles that matched the deep thrusts of his cock. Your thighs started trembling around him, breath coming in short gasps. The coil inside you wound impossibly tight, then finally snapped.

Pleasure tore through you in a slow, powerful rush, dragging long shudders from your core. Your pussy clenched rhythmically around his cock, pulsing hard as pleasure flooded every nerve. You cried out his name, back arching sharply off the couch, fingers gripping his shoulders like he was the only solid thing in the world. Jungkook groaned loudly, hips stuttering for a moment as he felt you come apart around him, but he kept moving, fucking you through it with deep, steady strokes, drawing out every last tremor.

“So good… fuck, you’re squeezing me so tight,” he praised breathlessly, voice breaking. “That’s my girl.”

He rode out your orgasm, never stopping, until your body started to relax beneath him. Only then did his pace change — faster, a little rougher, chasing his own release. His forehead pressed against yours again, eyes locked on yours, breathing ragged.

A few more deep thrusts and Jungkook buried himself to the hilt, hips pressing flush against yours as he came hard. His cock pulsed inside you, filling the condom with hot spurts while he groaned your name against your neck, body trembling with the force of it. You held him through it, stroking his back, feeling every twitch and shudder as he emptied himself.

For a long moment afterward, Jungkook stayed buried deep inside you, breathing hard against your shoulder, arms wrapped tightly around your body. You could feel his heartbeat racing against your chest, slowly starting to calm. The afterglow settled over both of you, wrapping you both in quiet intimacy.

He eventually lifted his head, pressing soft kisses to your jaw, your cheek, your lips. His eyes were soft, full of something deeper than just satisfaction. You kissed him back, slow and gentle, letting the moment stretch.

· · • • • ✤ • • • · ·

Everything settled around you quietly in the aftermath, the air thick with the scent of sweat and sex.

He finally lifted his head, eyes soft and searching as they met yours. His thumb brushed gently over your cheek, wiping away a stray bead of sweat.

“You okay?” he asked, voice low and a little hoarse. “Did I go too hard at the end?”

You shook your head, offering a small, tired smile. “It was good, I am okay.”

Jungkook’s expression softened further. He pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead, then your lips, slow and sweet. “Good,” he murmured. “Stay right here. I’ll be back in a second.”

After disposing of the condom in the bathroom, he returned with a warm, damp cloth and gently cleaned between your thighs with careful strokes. The tenderness of it made your chest tighten. He was always like this afterward — attentive, quiet, careful, never rushing you out of the moment.

Once he was done, he tossed the cloth aside and pulled you into his arms again, skin still warm and slightly sticky against yours.

“Want to take a shower together?” he asked softly, fingers tracing lazy patterns along your spine. “Or I can make you something to eat first. You hungry?”

You hesitated for a second, then nodded. “Shower sounds nice.”

He helped you up from the couch, your legs still a little shaky, and led you to the bathroom. The water was warm when he turned it on, steam quickly filling the small space. You both stepped under the spray, and Jungkook immediately pulled you close again, back to his chest, arms looped around your waist. The water cascaded over both of you, washing away the evidence of what you’d just done.

He reached for the soap, lathering it between his hands before running them slowly over your body — shoulders, arms, breasts, stomach. His touch stayed gentle. You leaned back into him, letting the hot water soothe your muscles.

“You’ve been quiet,” he said after a while, voice barely louder than the running water. “More than usual. Talk to me. What’s going on in that head of yours?”

You swallowed hard, the guilt that had been pushed aside during sex now rushing back in full force. Jungkook’s hands paused on your hips, patient as always, waiting for you to find the words.

“I don’t know,” you started, voice small. “Today with Noah… it just messed me up again. The same stupid cycle. And then I come here and… this happens.” You gestured vaguely between the two of you. “It feels good, yes. You always make it feel good. But I keep thinking maybe we shouldn’t keep doing this.”

Jungkook’s arms tightened slightly around you, but his voice stayed calm. “Because of Noah?”

You nodded, eyes stinging a little. “Yeah. I still… I still like him. Or I want to make it work with him. We have these moments where it feels like we could be something real, you know? And then I ruin it by running to you every time things get hard. And I know it’s not fair to you.”

He was quiet for a long moment, just holding you under the spray, hands resuming their slow, soapy path over your skin. “I told you before,” he said eventually, pressing a kiss to your wet shoulder. “I’m okay with it. If this is what you need, I’m here. I don’t regret any of it.”

“But I do,” you whispered. The words slipped out before you could stop them. “Well.. not because it doesn’t feel right with you. It does. And that’s the problem. It feels too right sometimes. And that scares me because I’m supposed to be figuring things out with someone else. I can’t keep using you like this, Jungkook. You deserve someone who chooses you first. Not someone who only shows up when they need a distraction.”

The shower water continued to fall, steam swirling around you both. Jungkook turned you gently in his arms so you were facing him. His hair was wet and pushed back, water droplets clinging to his lashes. He looked at you with that same steady gaze that always made your resolve waver.

“I know you still want to try with Noah,” he said quietly. “I’m not asking you to stop. I just… I care about you. A lot. And if this helps you even a little, then it’s worth it to me.” He cupped your face, thumbs brushing water from your cheeks. “But if you want us to stop, we can. Just say the word.”

You leaned into his touch, eyes closing for a moment. Part of you wanted to take it back immediately, to tell him you didn’t mean it and pull him close again. But the other part — the louder one right now — knew you couldn’t keep doing this forever. It was getting messier. It was getting real.

“I think we should stop,” you said finally, the words heavy on your tongue. “At least for a while... I need to actually try to fix things with Noah instead of running away every time it gets difficult. And you… you need to stop letting me do this to you.”

Jungkook’s jaw tightened, but he nodded slowly. “If that’s what you want.” His voice was soft, but you caught the flicker of something painful in his eyes before he hid it. He pulled you into a tight hug under the water, chin resting on top of your head. “I’ll always be here for you, angel. As your best friend. That part doesn’t change.”

You hugged him back, your throat suddenly feels tight. The water kept falling, washing over your joined bodies, but it couldn’t rinse away the complicated knot of emotions in your chest. Being close to him like this felt so safe. Stopping would hurt. But continuing would hurt him more in the long run.

You were sure of it.

After the shower, he gave you one of his clean t-shirts to wear. You both moved to the kitchen in the comfortable silence. Jungkook made you a simple sandwich while you sat on the counter, legs swinging, watching him. The domesticity felt.. good. But it also made you feel more guilty.

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me,” he said as he slid the plate toward you. “I get it. Noah’s the one you want to make it work with. I’ve always known that.”

You took a bite, chewing slowly. “It doesn’t mean I don’t care about you,” you said quietly. “Because I do. More than I probably should.”

Jungkook leaned against the counter across from you, arms crossed over his bare chest. A small, sad smile touched his lips. “I know. That’s why this is kind of complicated.”

The conversation drifted after that — lighter topics, old memories, anything to fill the space between you. But the decision hung there. You would try to make things right with Noah. You would stop using Jungkook as your emotional and physical escape. And he would let you, because that was the kind of person he was.

Later, when you were curled up on the couch again in his t-shirt, head on his chest, you wondered how long you could actually stick to that promise.

Because even now, safe in his arms with the steady beat of his heart under your ear, part of you already missed what you were trying to end.

· · • • • ✤ • • • · ·

You had drifted off on his chest, body soft and trusting against his, breathing slow and even. Jungkook hadn’t moved. He couldn’t bring himself to. One arm stayed wrapped around your back, hand resting lightly between your shoulder blades, feeling every rise and fall of your breath through the thin fabric of his t-shirt you wore. The other hand rested on your thigh where it had draped over his lap, thumb tracing absent, soothing circles that had long since lost their purpose except to keep himself grounded.

He stared at the ceiling for a long time, the faint glow from the living room lamp casting soft shadows across the room. The weight of you on top of him was both comfort and torture. You fit against him so perfectly it made his chest ache in a way he had grown used to hiding.

Jungkook had been in love with you for years.

It wasn’t the kind of love that announced itself loudly or demanded anything in return. It had grown slowly, quietly, in the spaces between late-night talks and shared silences, in the way you always came to him first when the world felt too overwhelming.

He remembered the exact moment it had shifted for him — years ago, when you showed up at his door after a bad fight with your family, eyes red and voice cracking. He had held you then, just like now, and something inside him had cracked open and never quite closed again. You weren’t just his best friend. You were the person he measured everyone else against. The one who made ordinary days feel brighter simply by existing in them.

And yet here you were. Asleep on his chest after he had been inside you, after he had tasted you and held you and tried to give you everything you needed to feel better. Only for you to wake up tomorrow and choose someone else again.

His jaw tightened. Noah. That idiot who couldn’t see how lucky he was to even have your attention. Jungkook had watched the cycle for months — the fights, the make-ups, the way you tried to excuse his actions, only to come running back here when it all fell apart. He hated it. Not because he thought he was better than Noah, (though some ugly part of him whispered that he was). He hated it because it hurt you. And every time it hurt you, it hurt him twice as much.

He tilted his head slightly, looking down at your face. Your lashes cast faint shadows on your cheeks, lips slightly parted in sleep. You looked so peaceful like this, all the tension from earlier smoothed away. Jungkook’s heart clenched painfully. He loved the way you looked when you were asleep on him. Like nothing in the world could touch you while he was holding you. Like you were his. Like you felt safe with him and him only.

He wanted to be that for you every single night. Not just on the nights when someone else let you down.

His mind drifted through memories unbidden. The time you both stayed up until sunrise talking about nothing and everything, your head in his lap while he played with your hair. The way you had laughed at his terrible attempts at cooking and then helped him salvage dinner anyway. The quiet nights where you would fall asleep during movies and he would carry you to his bed, tucking you in without ever crossing the line until you started crossing it first. He had tried so hard to keep his feelings locked away. When you had first kissed him almost a year ago, desperate and hurting, he had told himself it was just comfort. That he could handle being whatever you needed. But every time you came back, every time you chose him in those moments, it carved the love deeper into his bones until it became impossible to ignore.

He was tired of pretending it didn’t destroy him a little more each time.

Jungkook exhaled slowly, careful not to wake you. His hand continued its gentle stroking along your back. You shifted slightly in your sleep, pressing closer to him with a tiny sigh, and the simple movement made his throat tighten. How could you not see it? How could you not feel how completely he belonged to you? He would give up anything if it meant you looked at him the way he looked at you. Not as a distraction. Not as a safe place to fall when things got hard. But as the person you chose first. The person you fought for.

Instead you kept choosing Noah. The guy who argued with you over small things. The guy who made you doubt yourself. Jungkook had seen the way your face fell after every fight, the way you carried the pain of it until you ended up here. He wanted to tell you that you deserved someone who made the good days outnumber the bad ones. Someone who saw how incredible you were and fought to keep you happy.

Someone like him.

But he never said it. Because you had made your choice clear tonight. You wanted to try with Noah. You wanted to stop this thing between you two. And as much as it killed him, he would respect it. He would swallow the words he had wanted to say for years — I love you. I’ve always loved you. Let me be the one. — and go back to being the best friend who was always there when you needed him.

Even if it meant watching you walk toward someone who didn’t deserve you.

Jungkook closed his eyes for a moment, letting the steady rhythm of your breathing comfort him. He loved the way you smelled after showers, like his soap and something uniquely you. He loved how your body fit perfectly against his, how your hand would unconsciously fist his shirt in your sleep. He loved your laugh, your stubbornness, the way your eyes lit up when you talked about things you were passionate about. He loved you in all the quiet ways that never got spoken out loud.

And because he loved you, he would let you go try to make it work with Noah. He would smile and support you and be there to pick up the pieces if it fell apart again. Even if every time it did, it broke something else inside him.

Minutes turned into what felt like hours.

Jungkook memorized every detail — the way your hair fell across your face, the faint flutter of your lashes in dreams, the warmth of your breath against his collarbone. He wanted to remember this. Just in case things really did change after tonight. Just in case this was one of the last times he got to hold you like this.

Eventually, when he was sure you were deeply asleep, he spoke. The words came out barely above a whisper, rough with everything he had been holding back.

“Silly girl,” he murmured, lips brushing the top of your head. “You’re choosing that idiot when I would burn the whole world down just to keep you smiling. He doesn’t see you. Not the way I do. Not the way you deserve to be seen.”

He swallowed hard, voice cracking just slightly.

“I love you, ___. I’ve loved you for so fucking long. And I’ll keep loving you even if you never choose me.”

The confession hung in the quiet air, heard by no one but him. You didn’t stir. Jungkook pressed another soft kiss to your hair, tightening his hold around you just a fraction. He would carry this moment with him. The sound of your breathing. Your warmth. The love that filled every corner of his chest even as he prepared himself to let you walk away.

But for now, he just held you. And tried to pretend tomorrow wouldn’t hurt as much as he knew it would.

⊱ ──── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ──── ⊰

𝗹𝘂𝘃𝗶’𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲𝘀 :: fun fact; this oneshot was originally titled distraction. but because i took approximately a million years to actually write it, and by the time i was ready to finish it, hate that i made you love me had already come out and i was just like... oh. yeah. perfect. thank you ms. ariana 🙂‍↕️

i also wrote an alternate ending for this oneshot! in the alt version, jungkook is a lot more.. angrier, and refuses to let go of their whole fwb situation, so... yeah, angry sex basically.

i've uploaded it on my patreon under the ARCHIVE tier! if you'd like to read it, you can find it here: alternate ending — 5.6k words

He’d discovered your account early on, back when you were still experimenting with lighting and angles. What started as a few sharp, professional suggestions quickly turned into full management. Then it turned into something far more intimate.

He taught you everything — how to build unbearable anticipation, how to turn a simple touch into something cinematic, how to read analytics like they were scripture. He became your boyfriend, your mentor, your director, and eventually your favorite addiction. Under his guidance, your content grew darker, and more addictive.

So did the pull between you two.

Jungkook had always carried dominance like a second skin. It wasn’t loud — it was quiet, absolute, and impossible to ignore. The way he could silence a room with just a look. The way his arm would rest possessively around your waist when you were out in public. The way his eyes would darken with satisfaction whenever you obeyed him without question. You loved it most of the time. The way he could unravel you so completely. The certainty in his touch. But there were moments — those quiet, unsettling moments — when that same power felt less like protection and more like ownership. Moments when you wondered if the intensity was worth the growing unease in your chest.

Tonight was rapidly becoming one of those moments.

You knelt on the edge of your bed wearing nothing but delicate pink lingerie, the sheer lace clinging to your body like a sinful second skin. The fabric barely contained your breasts, and the matching thong left almost nothing to the imagination. Jungkook stood a few feet away, camera in hand, the harsh ring light casting dramatic shadows across his sharp jaw and toned arms. He looked devastatingly attractive, as always.

But his expression was ice-cold.

His brows were furrowed, lips pressed into a tight line as he snapped another photo. The shutter clicked loudly in the quiet room. He lowered the camera, dark eyes dragging over you with obvious dissatisfaction.

“You’re holding back again, sweetheart.” he said, voice low and edged with frustration. “This is the same shit. Same poses. Same lighting. Same little routine. What's going on? Where’s the fire? Where’s the raw fucking need you used to give me?”

You shifted on your knees, the mattress dipping beneath you, but you kept your chin high. “It’s been working fine. The subscribers are still paying. I don’t see why we—”

“Because fine isn’t enough anymore,” he cut in, stepping closer. The way he stared at you made the whole room feel suffocating. “I didn’t spend months building this empire with you just so you could get lazy and phone it in. You’re capable of so much more than recycled content. Or have you forgotten who taught you how to make them beg?”

The words stung. Heat flooded your cheeks — a messy blend of embarrassment and rising anger. Deep down, you knew he wasn’t completely wrong. Lately, filming had started to feel like a chore. The same angles, the same sultry stares, the same carefully edited sounds. The spark had faded, and you’d been going through the motions more than actually feeling them.

“Maybe you’re right,” you admitted, voice tight. “It has been feeling repetitive. I haven’t been as into it lately. But that doesn’t mean you get to talk to me like I’m some clueless amateur.”

Jungkook’s eyes darkened dangerously. He set the camera down with care, then closed the distance between you. He towered over your kneeling form, radiating that familiar, overwhelming presence.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice dropping into that smooth tone that always sent conflicting shivers through you. “You haven’t been ‘into it’ because you’ve gotten too comfortable. Too spoiled by how easily I handle everything for you. Maybe you need a reminder of what real effort looks like.”

His hand shot out, fingers tangling firmly in your hair as he tilted your head back, forcing your eyes to meet his. The grip was tight enough to make your scalp tingle — a clear assertion of control.

“Or maybe you’re just bored because you know no one else could direct you the way I do. Pathetic, really. Putting in half the passion you used to have and expecting me to keep carrying your content.”

That struck a nerve.

“Fuck you, Jungkook,” you snapped, trying to pull away even as heat pooled low in your belly. “You act like you own every part of this — like you own me. If I’m not excited anymore, maybe it’s because everything is always on your terms. There’s no thrill left. No spark. Just you controlling every fucking thing.”

His jaw clenched, eyes flashing with raw fury. In one swift motion, he yanked you forward by the hair and crashed his mouth against yours in a bruising, angry kiss. His other hand palmed your breast roughly through the thin lace, squeezing hard enough to make you gasp. He rolled your nipple between his fingers, tugging sharply, turning pain into a dark pulse of pleasure that shot straight between your legs.

You were still on your knees at the very edge of the bed, and he stood there, completely dominating the space. His kiss was all teeth and possession, tongue claiming your mouth like punishment for daring to challenge him.

But just as you started to melt, arching desperately into his touch with a broken whimper, Jungkook suddenly pulled back. His lips hovered inches from yours, breath hot and ragged. He released your hair, leaving you panting and aching, body screaming for more.

A needy, embarrassing whine slipped from your throat before you could stop it. You leaned forward instinctively, chasing his touch, hating how easily he could reduce you to this.

Jungkook’s lips curved into a slow, satisfied smirk. The anger was still there, simmering, but now it was mixed with dark, arrogant pride. He knew exactly what kind of power he held over you, and he fucking loved it.

“Look at you,” he murmured, voice low and mocking. “So quick to talk back, but even quicker to turn into a dripping, desperate mess for me.”

You groan.

He brushed his thumb across your slightly swollen bottom lip, eyes gleaming with wicked satisfaction. “You want excitement, sweetheart? Fine. I’ll give you excitement. Something you’ll never fucking forget.”

Jungkook’s words hung in the air like a promise and a threat all at once. His thumb pressed a little harder against your bottom lip, eyes locked on yours with that terrifying mix of anger, lust, and absolute ownership. You hated how your body reacted — thighs pressing together, pussy already aching and wet from nothing more than his voice and the way he looked at you.

He stepped back suddenly, giving you room to breathe, but the loss of his heat made you feel strangely empty. His gaze raked over your kneeling form slowly, like he was deciding exactly how he wanted to break you tonight.

“Get on the bed,” he ordered. “On your back. Legs spread.”

You hesitated for half a second — just long enough for defiance to flicker in your eyes. But the look he gave you made your stomach flip. You crawled backward onto the mattress, heart hammering, and laid down. The pink lingerie felt ridiculous now, barely-there and useless against the intensity of his stare. You parted your thighs slowly, exposing yourself to him.

Jungkook watched every movement, his jaw tight. He climbed onto the bed after you, crawling over your body like a predator. His hands gripped your thighs, pushing them wider apart as he settled between them. The weight of him, the heat of his body, the way his fully clothed frame pressed against your nearly naked one — it was overwhelming.

“You say there’s no thrill anymore?” he murmured, lips brushing your ear. One of his hands slid down, fingers pushing the soaked lace of your thong aside. He dragged two thick fingers through your folds, gathering your wetness before pushing them inside you without warning. “Yet here you are. Soaking my fucking fingers the second I touch you.”

You gasped, back arching as he curled his fingers deep, stroking that spot that always made your toes curl. His thumb found your clit, rubbing tight, relentless circles while he fucked you with his fingers.

“Pathetic,” he whispered against your neck, biting down hard enough to make you moan. “Talking shit about how I control everything, but the moment I put my hands on you, you fall apart like this. Dripping. Whining. Begging without even saying the words.”

His fingers sped up, the wet, obscene sounds filling the room as he worked you closer to the edge. You grabbed at his shoulders, nails digging into the fabric of his shirt, but he quickly caught your wrists and pinned them above your head with one hand.

“No touching,” he growled. “You don’t get to control a single fucking thing tonight. Not after the way you’ve been acting.”

The pressure built fast and brutal. Your thighs started to shake, breath coming in short, desperate gasps. But just as you were about to tip over the edge, Jungkook pulled his fingers out completely, leaving you empty and throbbing.

A broken, frustrated whine tore from your throat. “Jungkook— please—”

He smirked down at you, eyes dark with satisfaction. “And you're already begging.” He brought his soaked fingers to your lips, pushing them into your mouth. “Taste how much you need me, sweetheart. This pussy knows who it belongs to, even if your mouth wants to lie.”

You sucked on his fingers desperately, tasting yourself, eyes glassy with frustration and lust. Jungkook watched you with that arrogant, possessive pride. Then he leaned down, lips brushing yours as he spoke.

“You're still mad? You still want more excitement?”

You frown.

He smirks.

“Then tomorrow we’re doing something different. Something that’ll remind you exactly why you let me control all of this in the first place.” His voice dropped even lower, dangerous and promising.

Your eyes widened, but before you could ask what the hell he meant, Jungkook crashed his mouth against yours again, swallowing any protest with a deep, claiming kiss.

Whatever he was planning… you already knew you were going to hate it.

And also, unfortunately, crave it.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗳𝘂𝗹𝗹 𝗽𝗮𝗿𝘁 𝗶𝘀 𝗮𝘃𝗮𝗶𝗹𝗮𝗯𝗹𝗲 𝗲𝘅𝗰𝗹𝘂𝘀𝗶𝘃𝗲𝗹𝘆 𝗼𝗻 𝗺𝘆 𝗽𝗮𝘁𝗿𝗲𝗼𝗻 𝘂𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗮𝗿𝗰𝗵𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝘁𝗶𝗲𝗿 ♡ (it is also available as a one-time purchase which gives you permanent access to the full one-shot).

𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲’𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗸:

He’d discovered your account early on, back when you were still experimenting with lighting and angles. What started as a few sharp, professional suggestions quickly turned into full management. Then it turned into something far more intimate.

He taught you everything — how to build unbearable anticipation, how to turn a simple touch into something cinematic, how to read analytics like they were scripture. He became your boyfriend, your mentor, your director, and eventually your favorite addiction. Under his guidance, your content grew darker, and more addictive.

So did the pull between you two.

Jungkook had always carried dominance like a second skin. It wasn’t loud — it was quiet, absolute, and impossible to ignore. The way he could silence a room with just a look. The way his arm would rest possessively around your waist when you were out in public. The way his eyes would darken with satisfaction whenever you obeyed him without question. You loved it most of the time. The way he could unravel you so completely. The certainty in his touch. But there were moments — those quiet, unsettling moments — when that same power felt less like protection and more like ownership. Moments when you wondered if the intensity was worth the growing unease in your chest.

Tonight was rapidly becoming one of those moments.

You knelt on the edge of your bed wearing nothing but delicate pink lingerie, the sheer lace clinging to your body like a sinful second skin. The fabric barely contained your breasts, and the matching thong left almost nothing to the imagination. Jungkook stood a few feet away, camera in hand, the harsh ring light casting dramatic shadows across his sharp jaw and toned arms. He looked devastatingly attractive, as always.

But his expression was ice-cold.

His brows were furrowed, lips pressed into a tight line as he snapped another photo. The shutter clicked loudly in the quiet room. He lowered the camera, dark eyes dragging over you with obvious dissatisfaction.

“You’re holding back again, sweetheart.” he said, voice low and edged with frustration. “This is the same shit. Same poses. Same lighting. Same little routine. What's going on? Where’s the fire? Where’s the raw fucking need you used to give me?”

You shifted on your knees, the mattress dipping beneath you, but you kept your chin high. “It’s been working fine. The subscribers are still paying. I don’t see why we—”

“Because fine isn’t enough anymore,” he cut in, stepping closer. The way he stared at you made the whole room feel suffocating. “I didn’t spend months building this empire with you just so you could get lazy and phone it in. You’re capable of so much more than recycled content. Or have you forgotten who taught you how to make them beg?”

The words stung. Heat flooded your cheeks — a messy blend of embarrassment and rising anger. Deep down, you knew he wasn’t completely wrong. Lately, filming had started to feel like a chore. The same angles, the same sultry stares, the same carefully edited sounds. The spark had faded, and you’d been going through the motions more than actually feeling them.

“Maybe you’re right,” you admitted, voice tight. “It has been feeling repetitive. I haven’t been as into it lately. But that doesn’t mean you get to talk to me like I’m some clueless amateur.”

Jungkook’s eyes darkened dangerously. He set the camera down with care, then closed the distance between you. He towered over your kneeling form, radiating that familiar, overwhelming presence.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice dropping into that smooth tone that always sent conflicting shivers through you. “You haven’t been ‘into it’ because you’ve gotten too comfortable. Too spoiled by how easily I handle everything for you. Maybe you need a reminder of what real effort looks like.”

His hand shot out, fingers tangling firmly in your hair as he tilted your head back, forcing your eyes to meet his. The grip was tight enough to make your scalp tingle — a clear assertion of control.

“Or maybe you’re just bored because you know no one else could direct you the way I do. Pathetic, really. Putting in half the passion you used to have and expecting me to keep carrying your content.”

That struck a nerve.

“Fuck you, Jungkook,” you snapped, trying to pull away even as heat pooled low in your belly. “You act like you own every part of this — like you own me. If I’m not excited anymore, maybe it’s because everything is always on your terms. There’s no thrill left. No spark. Just you controlling every fucking thing.”

His jaw clenched, eyes flashing with raw fury. In one swift motion, he yanked you forward by the hair and crashed his mouth against yours in a bruising, angry kiss. His other hand palmed your breast roughly through the thin lace, squeezing hard enough to make you gasp. He rolled your nipple between his fingers, tugging sharply, turning pain into a dark pulse of pleasure that shot straight between your legs.

You were still on your knees at the very edge of the bed, and he stood there, completely dominating the space. His kiss was all teeth and possession, tongue claiming your mouth like punishment for daring to challenge him.

But just as you started to melt, arching desperately into his touch with a broken whimper, Jungkook suddenly pulled back. His lips hovered inches from yours, breath hot and ragged. He released your hair, leaving you panting and aching, body screaming for more.

A needy, embarrassing whine slipped from your throat before you could stop it. You leaned forward instinctively, chasing his touch, hating how easily he could reduce you to this.

Jungkook’s lips curved into a slow, satisfied smirk. The anger was still there, simmering, but now it was mixed with dark, arrogant pride. He knew exactly what kind of power he held over you, and he fucking loved it.

“Look at you,” he murmured, voice low and mocking. “So quick to talk back, but even quicker to turn into a dripping, desperate mess for me.”

You groan.

He brushed his thumb across your slightly swollen bottom lip, eyes gleaming with wicked satisfaction. “You want excitement, sweetheart? Fine. I’ll give you excitement. Something you’ll never fucking forget.”

Jungkook’s words hung in the air like a promise and a threat all at once. His thumb pressed a little harder against your bottom lip, eyes locked on yours with that terrifying mix of anger, lust, and absolute ownership. You hated how your body reacted — thighs pressing together, pussy already aching and wet from nothing more than his voice and the way he looked at you.

He stepped back suddenly, giving you room to breathe, but the loss of his heat made you feel strangely empty. His gaze raked over your kneeling form slowly, like he was deciding exactly how he wanted to break you tonight.

“Get on the bed,” he ordered. “On your back. Legs spread.”

You hesitated for half a second — just long enough for defiance to flicker in your eyes. But the look he gave you made your stomach flip. You crawled backward onto the mattress, heart hammering, and laid down. The pink lingerie felt ridiculous now, barely-there and useless against the intensity of his stare. You parted your thighs slowly, exposing yourself to him.

Jungkook watched every movement, his jaw tight. He climbed onto the bed after you, crawling over your body like a predator. His hands gripped your thighs, pushing them wider apart as he settled between them. The weight of him, the heat of his body, the way his fully clothed frame pressed against your nearly naked one — it was overwhelming.

“You say there’s no thrill anymore?” he murmured, lips brushing your ear. One of his hands slid down, fingers pushing the soaked lace of your thong aside. He dragged two thick fingers through your folds, gathering your wetness before pushing them inside you without warning. “Yet here you are. Soaking my fucking fingers the second I touch you.”

You gasped, back arching as he curled his fingers deep, stroking that spot that always made your toes curl. His thumb found your clit, rubbing tight, relentless circles while he fucked you with his fingers.

“Pathetic,” he whispered against your neck, biting down hard enough to make you moan. “Talking shit about how I control everything, but the moment I put my hands on you, you fall apart like this. Dripping. Whining. Begging without even saying the words.”

His fingers sped up, the wet, obscene sounds filling the room as he worked you closer to the edge. You grabbed at his shoulders, nails digging into the fabric of his shirt, but he quickly caught your wrists and pinned them above your head with one hand.

“No touching,” he growled. “You don’t get to control a single fucking thing tonight. Not after the way you’ve been acting.”

The pressure built fast and brutal. Your thighs started to shake, breath coming in short, desperate gasps. But just as you were about to tip over the edge, Jungkook pulled his fingers out completely, leaving you empty and throbbing.

A broken, frustrated whine tore from your throat. “Jungkook— please—”

He smirked down at you, eyes dark with satisfaction. “And you're already begging.” He brought his soaked fingers to your lips, pushing them into your mouth. “Taste how much you need me, sweetheart. This pussy knows who it belongs to, even if your mouth wants to lie.”

You sucked on his fingers desperately, tasting yourself, eyes glassy with frustration and lust. Jungkook watched you with that arrogant, possessive pride. Then he leaned down, lips brushing yours as he spoke.

“You're still mad? You still want more excitement?”

You frown.

He smirks.

“Then tomorrow we’re doing something different. Something that’ll remind you exactly why you let me control all of this in the first place.” His voice dropped even lower, dangerous and promising.

Your eyes widened, but before you could ask what the hell he meant, Jungkook crashed his mouth against yours again, swallowing any protest with a deep, claiming kiss.

Whatever he was planning… you already knew you were going to hate it.

And also, unfortunately, crave it.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗳𝘂𝗹𝗹 𝗽𝗮𝗿𝘁 𝗶𝘀 𝗮𝘃𝗮𝗶𝗹𝗮𝗯𝗹𝗲 𝗲𝘅𝗰𝗹𝘂𝘀𝗶𝘃𝗲𝗹𝘆 𝗼𝗻 𝗺𝘆 𝗽𝗮𝘁𝗿𝗲𝗼𝗻 𝘂𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗮𝗿𝗰𝗵𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝘁𝗶𝗲𝗿 ♡ (it is also available as a one-time purchase which gives you permanent access to the full one-shot).

𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲’𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗸:

His oversized black hoodie was slightly rumpled, glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose, backpack hanging off one shoulder like it weighed a thousand pounds. His dark hair was messy from running his hands through it too many times, and those wide doe eyes — usually soft and a little nervous around you — looked heavier today.

You watched him toe off his sneakers with a quiet sigh, clearly exhausted.

Aw.

You feel bad for him. For your sweet, brilliant, painfully awkward nerdy roommate.

“Hey, baby,” you called softly, voice low and warm like melted caramel.

He glanced up, cheeks already tinged with that soft, familiar pink. Weeks of being intimate together and he still blushed like that whenever you used pet names — even after you’d finally confessed how badly you wanted him and fucked the hesitation right out of him. It was devastatingly cute.

“Hi,” he mumbled, adjusting his glasses. “You… you didn’t have class?”

“Nope. Skipped the reading I was supposed to do, too.” You grinned, unapologetically, patting the spot beside you on the couch. “Come here. You look like you fought a war and lost.”

Jungkook hesitated for half a second — the same shy pause he always did, like he still couldn’t quite believe you wanted him there, but he eventually shuffled over. He dropped his backpack with a heavy thud and collapsed onto the cushion next to you, shoulders slumping.

His scent hit you right away: fresh laundry, a hint of cologne, and that undeniable masculine warmth that came from a long, tiring day.

You shifted closer without asking, swinging one leg over his lap so you were straddling his thighs sideways, facing him. It's not full-on seductive yet, but it's just close enough to wrap your arms around his neck and card your fingers through his hair. He exhaled shakily, forehead dropping to your shoulder almost on instinct.

“Bad day?” you asked, voice gentle against his ear.

“Horrible,” he admitted. “The professor threw a surprise quiz in advanced algorithms, and I wasn’t prepared at all. Which sucks because I’m usually the guy who’s over-prepared for everything. Then the group project meeting dragged on forever because Junho wouldn’t stop arguing about the methodology like his entire grade depended on it. My laptop almost died twice, I forgot my charger like an idiot, and I had to run across campus in the heat to make it to my next class on time. Oh — and I spilled coffee all over my notes right before the quiz.”

He let out a small, self-deprecating laugh. “I’m just… tired.”

You hummed, letting your nails scratch lightly at his scalp the way you knew he secretly loved. “My poor cheon-jae. Sounds like the universe decided to test your patience today.”

[cheon-jae :: korean for “genius”]

He lifted his head just enough to look at you. Those big brown eyes behind the thin frames were exhausted but warm, tracing your face like he was still trying to solve an equation he didn’t quite understand — He still couldn’t wrap his head around why you, the stunning, confident woman who turned heads everywhere she went, kept choosing him of all people.

“You don’t have to—” he started, always so worried about being a burden.

“Shh.” You pressed a slow kiss to his forehead, then another to the tip of his nose. “I want to. Let me take care of you for a minute, yeah?”

Jungkook’s hands settled hesitantly on your waist, fingers flexing against the soft fabric of your shirt like he was grounding himself. You could feel the tension in his shoulders, the way his body carried the weight of every expectation he put on himself. Top of his class, quiet, diligent, never wanting to cause trouble. And here you were — the chaotic force who’d barged into his life as his roommate six months ago and refused to leave his thoughts alone.

You’d tried so many times before that night.

Lingering touches while passing in the hallway. “Accidental” movie nights where you wore the tiniest shorts you owned. Teasing him about the way he blushed when you called him sweet nicknames just to watch his ears turn red. He’d retreat into his room with mumbled excuses every time, too shy, too convinced you were just playing around.

Until you didn’t give him the chance to run anymore.

Now you were here. With tangled sheets, breathless confessions in the dark, his shy hands learning exactly how to make you fall apart while you taught him how good it felt to let go. He was still awkward sometimes —adorably so — but the hunger underneath? Insatiable.

“You’re thinking too loud,” you murmured, pulling back just enough to cup his face. Your thumbs brushed over his cheekbones. “Tell me what you need right now.”

He swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing. “Just… this. You.” His voice dropped, he is shy but always honest. “Everything feels better when you’re here.”

You smile.

Such an adorable fucker.

Then you leaned in and kissed him, unhurried and full, letting it linger. Your body, however, was already buzzing with the memory of every heated night you’d spent wrapped around each other. Jungkook sighed into it, lips parting under yours, one hand sliding up your back beneath your shirt to press warm against your skin.

When you finally pulled away, his glasses were slightly fogged. You smiled, brushing his hair back again.

“Want me to run you a bath? Or should I order that spicy ramen you like and we can rot on the couch for a bit?” Your fingers trailed down to the nape of his neck, massaging the knots there. “Or… I could just keep holding you like this until you forget what a shitty day feels like.”

Jungkook let out a soft, breathy laugh — the sound you were quickly becoming addicted to. “All of the above?” he asked hopefully, cheeks still flushed. “But mostly the last one.”

You grinned, shifting so you could pull him closer, his head resting against your chest as you wrapped yourself around him like a shield against the outside world. His arms circled your waist fully now, holding you with that quiet strength he didn’t realize he had.

You pressed another kiss to the top of his head, breathing him in.

“I’ve got you, Kook,” you whispered against his hair. “You know I do.”

⊱ ──── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ──── ⊰

𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗳𝘂𝗹𝗹 𝗽𝗮𝗿𝘁 𝗶𝘀 𝗮𝘃𝗮𝗶𝗹𝗮𝗯𝗹𝗲 𝗲𝘅𝗰𝗹𝘂𝘀𝗶𝘃𝗲𝗹𝘆 𝗼𝗻 𝗺𝘆 𝗽𝗮𝘁𝗿𝗲𝗼𝗻 𝘂𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗮𝗿𝗰𝗵𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝘁𝗶𝗲𝗿 ♡

𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲’𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗸:

His oversized black hoodie was slightly rumpled, glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose, backpack hanging off one shoulder like it weighed a thousand pounds. His dark hair was messy from running his hands through it too many times, and those wide doe eyes — usually soft and a little nervous around you — looked heavier today.

You watched him toe off his sneakers with a quiet sigh, clearly exhausted.

Aw.

You feel bad for him. For your sweet, brilliant, painfully awkward nerdy roommate.

“Hey, baby,” you called softly, voice low and warm like melted caramel.

He glanced up, cheeks already tinged with that soft, familiar pink. Weeks of being intimate together and he still blushed like that whenever you used pet names — even after you’d finally confessed how badly you wanted him and fucked the hesitation right out of him. It was devastatingly cute.

“Hi,” he mumbled, adjusting his glasses. “You… you didn’t have class?”

“Nope. Skipped the reading I was supposed to do, too.” You grinned, unapologetically, patting the spot beside you on the couch. “Come here. You look like you fought a war and lost.”

Jungkook hesitated for half a second — the same shy pause he always did, like he still couldn’t quite believe you wanted him there, but he eventually shuffled over. He dropped his backpack with a heavy thud and collapsed onto the cushion next to you, shoulders slumping.

His scent hit you right away: fresh laundry, a hint of cologne, and that undeniable masculine warmth that came from a long, tiring day.

You shifted closer without asking, swinging one leg over his lap so you were straddling his thighs sideways, facing him. It's not full-on seductive yet, but it's just close enough to wrap your arms around his neck and card your fingers through his hair. He exhaled shakily, forehead dropping to your shoulder almost on instinct.

“Bad day?” you asked, voice gentle against his ear.

“Horrible,” he admitted. “The professor threw a surprise quiz in advanced algorithms, and I wasn’t prepared at all. Which sucks because I’m usually the guy who’s over-prepared for everything. Then the group project meeting dragged on forever because Junho wouldn’t stop arguing about the methodology like his entire grade depended on it. My laptop almost died twice, I forgot my charger like an idiot, and I had to run across campus in the heat to make it to my next class on time. Oh — and I spilled coffee all over my notes right before the quiz.”

He let out a small, self-deprecating laugh. “I’m just… tired.”

You hummed, letting your nails scratch lightly at his scalp the way you knew he secretly loved. “My poor cheon-jae. Sounds like the universe decided to test your patience today.”

[cheon-jae :: korean for “genius”]

He lifted his head just enough to look at you. Those big brown eyes behind the thin frames were exhausted but warm, tracing your face like he was still trying to solve an equation he didn’t quite understand — He still couldn’t wrap his head around why you, the stunning, confident woman who turned heads everywhere she went, kept choosing him of all people.

“You don’t have to—” he started, always so worried about being a burden.

“Shh.” You pressed a slow kiss to his forehead, then another to the tip of his nose. “I want to. Let me take care of you for a minute, yeah?”

Jungkook’s hands settled hesitantly on your waist, fingers flexing against the soft fabric of your shirt like he was grounding himself. You could feel the tension in his shoulders, the way his body carried the weight of every expectation he put on himself. Top of his class, quiet, diligent, never wanting to cause trouble. And here you were — the chaotic force who’d barged into his life as his roommate six months ago and refused to leave his thoughts alone.

You’d tried so many times before that night.

Lingering touches while passing in the hallway. “Accidental” movie nights where you wore the tiniest shorts you owned. Teasing him about the way he blushed when you called him sweet nicknames just to watch his ears turn red. He’d retreat into his room with mumbled excuses every time, too shy, too convinced you were just playing around.

Until you didn’t give him the chance to run anymore.

Now you were here. With tangled sheets, breathless confessions in the dark, his shy hands learning exactly how to make you fall apart while you taught him how good it felt to let go. He was still awkward sometimes —adorably so — but the hunger underneath? Insatiable.

“You’re thinking too loud,” you murmured, pulling back just enough to cup his face. Your thumbs brushed over his cheekbones. “Tell me what you need right now.”

He swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing. “Just… this. You.” His voice dropped, he is shy but always honest. “Everything feels better when you’re here.”

You smile.

Such an adorable fucker.

Then you leaned in and kissed him, unhurried and full, letting it linger. Your body, however, was already buzzing with the memory of every heated night you’d spent wrapped around each other. Jungkook sighed into it, lips parting under yours, one hand sliding up your back beneath your shirt to press warm against your skin.

When you finally pulled away, his glasses were slightly fogged. You smiled, brushing his hair back again.

“Want me to run you a bath? Or should I order that spicy ramen you like and we can rot on the couch for a bit?” Your fingers trailed down to the nape of his neck, massaging the knots there. “Or… I could just keep holding you like this until you forget what a shitty day feels like.”

Jungkook let out a soft, breathy laugh — the sound you were quickly becoming addicted to. “All of the above?” he asked hopefully, cheeks still flushed. “But mostly the last one.”

You grinned, shifting so you could pull him closer, his head resting against your chest as you wrapped yourself around him like a shield against the outside world. His arms circled your waist fully now, holding you with that quiet strength he didn’t realize he had.

You pressed another kiss to the top of his head, breathing him in.

“I’ve got you, Kook,” you whispered against his hair. “You know I do.”

⊱ ──── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ──── ⊰

𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗳𝘂𝗹𝗹 𝗽𝗮𝗿𝘁 𝗶𝘀 𝗮𝘃𝗮𝗶𝗹𝗮𝗯𝗹𝗲 𝗲𝘅𝗰𝗹𝘂𝘀𝗶𝘃𝗲𝗹𝘆 𝗼𝗻 𝗺𝘆 𝗽𝗮𝘁𝗿𝗲𝗼𝗻 𝘂𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗮𝗿𝗰𝗵𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝘁𝗶𝗲𝗿 ♡

𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲’𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗸: