𐙚 Tropes : unrequited love, drummer au, rockstar au, angst, slow burn, yearning, she falls first he falls harder, friends to lovers, smut, found family
Summary : Jungkook is a man living the dream life he fantasized about as a young kid when he spent hours practicing in his room with his musical instruments and drums.
He started out as an underground broke drummer in an unknown band when he was young. One day, him and his friends decided to officially form a rock band called "Indigo". They kept making music and playing in bars as an unknown band for years, until they finally got the recognition they deserved. Now, they have wealth, fame and popularity. They travel the world as they play for the entire world. They feel almost untouchable.
Vivien was one of the few people that was with Indigo from the early days. Really early days, when people barely stopped to listen to them in a small bar.
She started as their friend, and later continued as the band's makeup artist. Now, she goes everywhere with them, travels the world and stands by them at the backstage of every show they perform.
But to her, Jungkook feels as untouchable as he does to everyone else. What started for her as a silly young crush on a boy he just met, evolved into an all-consuming love everyday after that. The only problem was that, nobody knew. Nobody, especially Jungkook didn't know about her deep feelings, or her secret glances or all the little butterflies she felt everytime Jungkook teased her or occasionally flirted in an innocent way. It wasn't his fault, it was just how their friendship dynamic worked.
But some days were more painful than the others. Because every teasing joke, every playful remark, every innocent flirt between them was platonic to him. His feelings for the band's hairstylist though, were very much real.
That's right, Jungkook had a very long-term, very real crush on her coworker. And just like Vivien got to see Jungkook everyday, Jungkook got to see the woman he secretly liked everyday, too. And that was painful because Vivien had to witness him turn into a teenage boy with a big crush on another girl everyday.
_“Sometimes loving someone means silently standing beside them and watching while they fall in love with someone else.”
a/n : so happy to announce that l'm finally starting the series that have been itching my brain for quite some time. I'm actually very excited for it yay. 🍾
I'm posting a moodboard to show u the vibes of this series better, so check out the post in here. ᰔ
a/n 2 : I wanna say this for anyone that might not be familiar with my work. My stories are always in a first pov. Now, I know that might not be a preference for everyone. But I read a lot of books in my free time, and I've been doing that for a few years, and they are basically all written in first pov. That's why this style of writing is more comfortable and natural for me. Even if you prefer second pov, I'd still recommend u to give this a try. They're still not that different and it's the story itself that is important. :]
And I don’t like using y/n in my stories, and it's hard to write a series addressing the fmc without a name, so this fmc is given a name.
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🏷 : if u want to be on the series permanent taglist, leave a comment on this post. If u want to be removed from it at any point, u can just let me know in my dm. 𖹭
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( 𝓕𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐒 ) 𝗷𝘂𝗻𝗴𝗸𝗼𝗼𝗸 𝘅 𝗳𝗲𝗺!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿. ˖Ი𐑼⋆ smau +++ mdni. no strings attached was the original agreement, but between the purple marks on your neck and the deleted messages, the boundaries have completely blurred because jungkook is secretly falling in love with you.
the cold night air hits your face the second JUNGKOOK drags you out through the doors of the club, his grip tight around your wrist. you had thrown yourself at him the moment he found you by the bar, which was easy considering you were shouting his name, wrapping your arms around his neck, and pressing sloppy kisses all over his face. but jungkook wasn't having it. his face was stone cold, his jaw clenched so tightly his veins jumped, completely serious as he ignored your whining complaints and led you straight toward his parked car.
"gukkieeee, walk slower," you stumble, your heels clicking unevenly against the asphalt as he opens the passenger door and gently but firmly handles you into the seat.
the moment he climbs into the driver's seat and shuts the door, locking out the muffled bass of the club, you crawl straight across the center console. you tangle your fingers in his dark hair, pulling his face toward yours, your breath hot against his lips. "are we gonna fuck in the car? we haven’t had car sex in a while... please, i want you so bad right now."
jungkook lets out a heavy sigh, his hands coming up to grip and pull your hands away.
"we're not doing anything in the car," he doesn't lean into the kiss, and he is serious about what he is saying.
"why not?" you whine, your lower lip trembling as you try to crawl into his lap anyway. "you usually love when i do this, and you always say yes."
"because you're drunk," he murmurs, his tone softening for a second as he shifts you back into your own seat and pulls the seatbelt across your chest, clicking it into place. "you can barely keep your eyes open, and i'm not laying a single hand on you like this."
"but i told you i love you," you blurt out, the alcohol making you completely unfiltered as you look at him with teary eyes. "i want to be your girlfriend, gukkie... d-don't you want me to?"
jungkook freezes as his hand lingers on the steering wheel. a flash of vulnerability crosses his face, but he quickly forces it down, starting the engine. "you're drunk," he repeats quietly, "whatever you say right now won't mean a thing tomorrow. you won't even remember half of it."
"i will! i will remember everything!" you protest, but your eyes are already growing heavy, the warmth of the car heater immediately making the alcohol weigh double on your eyelids.
you spend the rest of the drive slumped against the window, grumbling under your breath until you finally pass out. when the car stops, you barely register jungkook unbuckling you, scooping your limp body up into his arms, and carrying you up the stairs into his apartment.
there is no filthy fucking tonight, or no crossed boundaries on his leather couch.
instead, he sets you down gently on his bed, carefully sliding your heels off your feet and pulling his favorite oversized shirt over your head to replace your uncomfortable club clothes. you groan, rolling over, but jungkook is already back a minute later, sitting on the edge of the mattress with a glass of water and headache pills in his hand.
"up," he orders softly, propping your back up against his chest and holding the glass to your lips. "drink all of it and try not to spit."
you whine, sipping the water obediently while he patiently coaxes the medicine down your throat. once the glass is empty, he lays you back down on the pillows, pulling the covers and the pink blanket up to your chin. you expect him to leave, to go sleep on the couch to keep the distance between you, but instead, your friend climbs in right next to you.
he pulls your back flush against his chest, wrapping his tattooed arm securely around your waist to lock you against his warmth. pressing a soft kiss to the back of your neck, then into your hair as he hums and sighs, since you smell like cigarettes and alcohol.
"sweet dreams, angel," he whispers, voice full of all the unspoken feelings he's been hiding for months, and a pinch of worry because of the thought of having a real conversation in the morning. but that's a problem for your future you. now it's time to immerse yourself in dreamland, and for him to dream about the things he wants most in this world... you.
“fuck right there.” you moaned, your legs held wide with your own arms as his tongue pressed into your clit. his cold piercing made contact with your wet folds, the sensation driving you insane.
his tongue knew your weakest points, dragging it along your pussy in long stripes with perfectly applied pressure. reaching your entrance, his tongue pushed into you with no hesitation, his nose now deep in your puffy folds.
his hips thrusted down into the bed, his restrained cock needing friction if it wasn’t inside you. pulling away with a string of your arousal and his saliva following, he giggled before licking your folds and rubbing his mouth all over you, his chin now covered in your wetness.
he climbed back up towards you, kissing his way up your body before stopping at your breasts. he eyed your mounds before briefly enveloping your nipple in his mouth, playfully sucking it and licking it gently, his chin spreading your own arousal.
your hands made their way to his hair, fingers lost and pulling at its messiness. he faced you, breathing heavy as his mouth had been occupied.
“you’re wild.”
“it wouldn’t be fun if I wasn’t.” he grinned, his eyes piercing into yours.
wanting to challenge him, you smiled. “I can be wild too, y’know.” fingers traveling to his chest, nails slightly scratching his perfect skin.
“show me.” he moaned, licking a long stripe up your neck before letting you go. making your way on top of him, you palmed his erection restrained in his boxers. he watched as you kneeled in from of him, laying down as he knew what was coming.
you placed your tongue on his outlined cock, your hand taking him with along with the thin fabric. leading up to his tip, you tasted his already flowing precum, a wet spot adorning the expensive calvin klein pair.
“fuck,” he muttered, his hand finding its way to your head, wrapping your hair around his hand to push you into him, his hips uncontrollably thrusting upwards a few times.
one thing about jungkook, he’s vocal. your free hand tapped knee, your eyes warning him to keep quiet, his friends were just across the hall, one of them next door.
he grinned at your expression, bringing a pillow to his mouth and biting it down, his smug smile not disappearing.
the teasing taste of his precum made you run out of patience, freeing his cock from the barrier of his. he was hard, red, and leaking. even after having sex multiple times, you’ll never get used to his girth.
your tongue swirled his heated head, pushing it against his hole as more arousal oozed out. licking your hand, you spread the moist on his length.
letting go of the pillow, he reached for the bottle of beer on the nightstand, brining it to his lips as he drank what was left. he sighed, hissing as the liquid made its way down his throat, placing it back on the nightstand with
taking him in all the way in, the head of his cock hitting the back of your throat. you whine, almost gagging, sending a vibration.
he chuckled, licking his teeth as his hand gripped your hair tighter, signaling you to bob your head. so you did.
your hand fisted what your mouth couldn’t take, hollowing your cheeks and licking the sides of his cock with a flat tongue.
“fuck you’re good, I taught you well.” he let out, breathlessly as you to took him in, your eyes meeting his.
his high came hot, his cum warm as you swallowed it. his hold on your hair grew tighter, his knees bucking and his hips thrusting to get deeper.
“you taste good.” you admitted, getting up and taking your beer on the other nightstand, surprised he hadn’t drunk it.
“of course I do.”
he giggled, his eyes drowsy as the alcohol took him over. “what if I act depressed and get in that closet over there?” he asked, turning serious all of a sudden.
“what..?”
he didn’t say a word, stuffing himself back in his boxers and wearing his jean jacket. he made his way to a small closet, sat on the bench inside, and closed himself in it.
in disbelief, all you could do was stare and wonder what the fuck went through his head. you heard him singing, emotion in his voice as if he were to start crying.
“jungkook, what the hell are you doing?”
he opened the door, a smile on his face as he laughed at your confused expression. “I don’t even know.” his words coming out wobbly.
note: he’s so silly but somehow manages to be so hot like wtf but anyway thanks for reading!!
jungkook's ideal date | nothing special (except you)
꒰ ✉︎ ꒱ this took me longer than i'd like to admit. i didn't have many ideas going into it, but i ended up liking how it turned out. hopefully you enjoyed reading it ♡
as always, comments, asks, likes, and reblogs are very welcome!
— jungkook's ideal date would probably begin somewhere quiet, like a walk along the Han River. No big plans, no pressure—just space to talk. he'd ask questions naturally, not to impress you, but because he actually want to know. things like what you dreamed of becoming as a kid, the songs you play on repeat, or the places you've always wanted to see. he'd play attention in a way that feels rare, remembering small details without making a show of it.
— even with his confidence, there's be a hint of nerves. not enough to make things awkward, just enough to show in little ways—laughing a bit too fast, stealing quick glances when you're talking. when he's interested, he listens more than he speaks. at some point, he's realize he's been quiet for too long because he got caught up in what you were saying.
— eventually, he'd ask if you're hungry, though he probably already noticed earlier. he'd take you somewhere familiar to him, a place he trusts rather than something flashy. the kind of spot where the staff knows him.
— the owner would greet him with a knowing smile.
"so this is who you've been hiding."
— he'd brush it off immediately, a little flustered, while you try not to laugh.
— dinner would eel easy. he'd react dramatically to teasing, only making things worse for himself. stories would spill out in pieces—he'd jump from memory to another, losing track halfway through. by the end, you'd know more about him than he planned to share.
— after eating, neither of you would rush off. maybe you'd wander without direction, maybe stop at a convenience store for drinks even though you're not really thirsty. time wouldn't matter much to him if he's enjoying the moment.
— he'd get sidetracked by random things along the way—a street performer, a strange shop, a claw machine glowing outside an arcade. the second you mention liking one of the plushies inside, he decides he's getting it for you.
— expect he can't and after several minutes of trying and blaming the machine, he refuses to give up, insisting on winning it no matter what.
— when he finally wins, he hands it to you trying to act like it was nothing, but the moment he sees how genuinely happy and grateful you are, his expression softens. all that competitiveness fades into quiet satisfaction, like every extra minute he spent trying was completely worth it just to see you smile like that.
— as the evening settles, everything slows down. conversations softens, pauses feel natural. you walk side to side, occasionally brushing shoulders, neither of you pulling away.
— that's probably what he'd like most. not the food or the distractions, just that quiet comfort. the moment where being together feels effortless. when it's time to part, he'd stretch it our—another question, another story, anything to stay a little longer with you.
— and later, after walking you home because he insisted on making sure you got there safely. he'd finally start heading back himself. halfway there, his phone would buzz.
tysm for today ♡
i had a lot of fun.
— he'd stare at the message for a second longer than necessary before smiling to himself.
— the plushie he spent twenty minutes fighting a claw machine for was probably sitting on you bed by now.
— somehow, that though would make him smile even more.
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( 𝓛𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐏𝐎𝐏 ) 𝗷𝘂𝗻𝗴𝗸𝗼𝗼𝗸 𝘅 𝗳𝗲𝗺!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿. ˖Ი𐑼⋆ sfw +++ suggestive. like sugar on his tongue, he turns guessing a lollipop flavor into an excuse to keep stealing kisses from you.
JUNGKOOK lets the candy wrapper crinkle on purpose. you can’t see him through the sleep mask, but you hear the small rustle and click of the plastic stick against his teeth. a second later, his fingers hook under your chin, tilting your face up while you’re still straddling his lap.
"ready?" he murmurs, and before you can answer, his lips press against yours.
the kiss is slow at first, almost thoughtful, making you immediately feel the cool brush of his lip piercing against your mouth as it warms up. the faint sweetness of the lollipop seeps between your lips when he deepens it enough to make you taste it. you hum softly against him, concentrating, your hands sliding up his shoulders to his neck.
"cola?"
"mhm."
you try again later, guessing everything like strawberry, green apple, and even watermelon, which had you leaning back in to double-check while he happily let you kiss him again, and again… and again. now your hands cup his face as you pull away, slightly breathless.
"choco-vanilla?" you murmur, his hands are still resting on your thighs, thumbs rubbing soothing circles over your skin, giving you a playful squeeze.
"hmm," he hums, pretending to think. "wanna try again?"
"baby, i think i got it right. this is the fifth time you’ve made me try again."
"i don’t see you complaining." your boyfriend sounds far too pleased with himself.
jungkook kisses you again, this time the sweetness on his tongue mixing with the faint chocolatey flavor you’d just guessed. your fingers curl slightly in his hair as his grip on your thighs tightens, pulling you closer. the sugar on his tongue is melting, so addictive that you can’t separate the candy from him anymore.
"focus," you gasp softly into his mouth, and he seems to like that, though he’s the one who keeps kissing you.
"i am–"
the words dissolve when his hands slide higher along your thighs, to your waist, making your breath hitch, until they rest on your face. it's dizzying now, the taste lingering every time your mouths part and meet again, as a soft moan slip from you. he pauses, then you feel his smile.
"that didn’t sound like someone concentrating." his fingers slip behind your head, gently tugging the sleep mask up and off. the room’s light floods your eyes, and the first thing you see is him: messy hair, slightly swollen lips, the lollipop stick hooked lazily between his fingers, and that look on his face.
"you were right, by the way."
"about the flavor?"
"yeah."
you stare at him, blinking, eyes suddenly widening, "jungkook–"
he leans in again, cutting you off for the nth time, brushing his lips over yours in another lingering kiss, not rushing for anything, he wants you as close as possible until he gets tired of this game, and it probably won't be soon. when he pulls back this time, one hand slides back to your waist, keeping you exactly where he wants.
"but," he adds softly, eyes flicking down to your mouth, his thumb tilts your chin up again. "i don’t think we are done yet... say, one more try?"
( 𝓘 𝐍𝐄𝐄𝐃 𝐀 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐎 ) 𝗷𝘂𝗻𝗴𝗸𝗼𝗼𝗸 𝘅 𝗳𝗲𝗺!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿. ˖Ი𐑼⋆ sfw +++ suggestive. mid-tipsy makeout, you don't know what's happening or is going to happen because of your boyfriend’s sudden hyperactivity.
literally two minutes ago, with the smell of whiskey and beer, JUNGKOOK had you pinned against his mattress, lips hot and wet against yours, tongues tangled in a messy rhythm that had you losing your mind. his hands were gripping your hips, groping at your waist, pulling you so close you couldn't tell where you ended and he began. you were entirely breathless, one strap of your dress completely slipped off your shoulder, your lipstick smeared halfway across your cheek from how hard he’d been kissing you.
then, the whiskey fully hit his bloodstream, and his adhd brain completely hijacked the cockpit. suddenly, he bolted upright, and the blown-out desire in his eyes was replaced by a spark of hyperactivity.
"wait," he gasped, his voice still deep and raspy from the makeout, which only made what came next worse. "babe, wait. hold on. i just remembered something."
you blinked, dazed, expecting him to pull out a condom or maybe lock the door. instead, jungkook scrambled to the edge of the bed, aggressively slapped around his nightstand, and yanked his ipad off the charger. he immediately unlocked it, the bright screen illuminating his intensely focused face, completely forgetting you were even there.
you sat up, adjusting your slipped strap in complete confusion, staring at him with a look that slowly morphed into slight disgust. "jungkook? what are you doing?"
"the t-rex," he muttered, tapping the screen furiously. "people always disrespect the t-rex because of the little arms, right? like, you look at them and think, haha, stupid dead lizard. but it was literally an apex predator. check this out," he shoved the screen in your face, showing you a youtube video. "it didn't need arms, babe. it was a very fast predator. immaculate bite force, like, it could crush a car. why is everyone making fun of its arms when its jaw could literally pulverize everything in sight?"
"we were literally just using tongues, and now you're lecturing me on dinosaurs?" you asked, deadpan, blinking at him.
he didn't hear you, already bored with the ipad, completely forgetting whatever point he was trying to prove. he tossed it to the side, stood on the bed, and began aggressively performing the macarena choreography while humming the beat under his breath. his coordination was shockingly good for a drunk man, which somehow made it even more frustrating.
when a drunk jungkook's brain decided to switch gears, it didn't just shift like a normal human being intoxicated with alcohol. it drifted across six lanes of traffic and crashed into a brick wall. he was entirely unpredictable.
"okay, i'm going home," you sighed, reaching around the tangled sheets to look for your purse. "where is my–"
"look at me!"
your biggest mistake was to look up. your boyfriend had somehow managed to unhook your bra from the floor where it had been discarded earlier. he had the cups pressed against his eyes like a pair of lacy goggles, the straps wrapped clumsily around his ears.
"jungkook, put my bra down."
"i am a creature of the night," he whispered solemnly through the black lace. his nose squished against the fabric, an incredibly proud, drunken grin stretching across his lips.
before you could even process the image, he slid off the bed, hit the floor with a soft thud, and immediately scrambled underneath the bed frame. the only thing visible was his feet sticking out from under the dust ruffle.
"jungkook?" you leaned over the edge, peering into the dark gap.
he covered his eyes with the bra cups again, shuffling deeper into the shadows. "spiderman!" he screamed into the floorboards. "tell tony they're coming for me! hide me!"
you stared at the empty space where your hot boyfriend had been worshipping your body just minutes prior. your lipstick was smudged, your hair was a mess, your chest was bare, and he was pretending to be a marvel character... why are you not even surprised?
sighing, you pulled out your phone, unlocked it with a swipe, and opened your uber app. as you tapped confirm, a muffled voice from beneath the mattress yelled, "jagi~ did you know birds are technically dinosaurs?"
"the uber will be here in six minutes," you told the floorboards, pulling your dress strap back up.
"wait, don't go yet!" the lace-eyed creature cries out, wiggling his legs. "i forgot to tell you about the killer whales!"
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texts between jk & oc ─── (also part of the minis collection!)
AYS is set in 2008 but this is how the text conversations between jk and oc would look like if the story took place in the present time. (All below conversations are from oc’s point of view!)
friends to lovers. biker!jk ── takes place in the states! early 2000’s au. profanity. suggestive language. jk and oc are asian-americans and code switch.
memos. Was pre-occupied last week because I found out that I need to get shoulder surgery and I wasn’t up for writing AYS. So, hopefully this makes up for it! This was so fun to make. It's actually based off the events from chapters 1-4.
➪ Synopsis: You're his Peaches and he is your Pretty boy. It's all very simple until the fear of commitment kicks in. How does one maintain a safe distance when it's Jungkook? The gestures might be sweet and naive but the heat between us is almost suffocating.
➪ Genre: college love, strangers to friends to lovers, undefined relationship, commitment issues, fear of abandonment, angst, slow burn, plot twist
➪ W/c: 31.5k
➪ Playlist (Spotify) *Note: There are 17 songs, one for each chapter
Synopsis: When you and Jungkook are named captains for the season’s most high-stakes boys vs. girls match, the rivalry that has defined your lives since freshman year suddenly turns personal. As two of the most gifted soccer players, you’ve spent years trying to outplay, outshine, and outlast each other—but beneath every sharp word and stolen victory has been a tension neither of you has ever been able to ignore. During halftime, trapped alone in the break room, the competition between you finally boils over, and what starts as another battle for dominance threatens to become something far more dangerous.
Genre: Soccer player!Jungkook x Soccer player! Female reader, E2?, Smut.
Word Count: 5.4k
Now Playing: Loft Music - The weeknd..
Warnings: toxic relationships, two sexually repressed assholes who’s worried about being better than another, hair pulling, light choking, degrading, dry humping, crying, hate sex (almost), enemies to (?), Jungkook is a cold hearted bastard, Jungkook has ZERO emotions in here, mean jungkook, reader is pissed that they can’t get under his skin (at least that’s what they think), size kink, reader has a fetish for Jungkook’s large hands, one sided arguing, cliffhanger will be tragic, author is genuinely tired from absolutely nothing, idk i got inspired by reading blue lock lol, also Jungkook’s personality is slightly based off of Jinpachi Ego—i said slightly.
Author’s Note: Found this in my drafts, apparently i made two parts. Though, you’re gonna have to bribe me into posting part two...
The second half had become a battlefield. Not the kind decorated with blood and broken bones, but with shredded lungs, trembling muscles, and egos refusing to kneel.
Every breath you drew burned like fire being dragged through your chest. Sweat rolled down your temples, soaking the collar of your jersey before disappearing into the fabric already clinging to your skin. Your calves screamed with every sprint across the pitch, your heartbeat hammering against your ribs so violently it nearly drowned out the roaring crowd surrounding the stadium.
Never—not in a million years—had you imagined willingly pushing your body beyond the limits God had so carefully designed.
Yet here you were. Running. Thinking. Fighting.
Again.
The scoreboard glared down at everyone with merciless honesty. 3–3.
A tie. Neither team victorious. Neither team defeated. You hated it. A tie was simply another word for unfinished business.
The whistle echoed through the stadium as another possession changed hands. Players barked instructions to one another, shoes scraped violently against the grass, and the crowd erupted every time someone managed to steal the ball. The match had long stopped being boys versus girls.
Now it was simply survival. Because every person on that field understood one terrifying truth. The moment either captain slipped—
The entire game would collapse.
Your jaw tightened as your eyes searched the field. And then they landed on him.
Jeon Jungkook.
Even from halfway across the pitch, he carried himself as though the stadium belonged to him. His expression remained unreadable, cold enough to make winter seem welcoming. His dark eyes never wandered aimlessly; they dissected everything before him with frightening precision. Every player’s movement. Every hesitation. Every bad habit. Every weakness.
Nothing escaped him. He stood there for barely a second before changing direction.
Three of his teammates immediately adjusted their positions. Not because he had spoken.
Because they already knew. Because he had already predicted where everyone—including you—would be five seconds from now.
It was infuriating.
Jungkook didn’t simply play soccer. He dismantled it. To everyone else, twenty-two players chased a ball.
To him? It was nothing more than a puzzle waiting to be solved.
Every player was another piece. Every pass another equation. Every mistake another opportunity to exploit.
His mind operated several steps ahead of everyone else’s, rearranging the field into something only he could understand. He manipulated space itself, forcing defenders to leave openings they never realized they’d created. He dragged players exactly where he wanted them, almost as if invisible strings were attached to their wrists.
Sometimes…even yours.
You clicked your tongue in irritation. God, you hated that.
You hated how easily he dictated the rhythm of an entire match without saying more than a handful of words.
If something didn’t contribute to becoming the best striker in the world, then in his eyes, it simply didn’t deserve to exist. Including most people.
His tongue was just as ruthless as his game. Cold. Sharp. Merciless.
Every insult he threw landed exactly where it hurt most, spoken with such terrifying certainty that arguing back almost felt pointless. Whenever you managed to surprise him on the field—stealing possession, intercepting one of his plays, forcing him to improvise—you’d catch that familiar glare.
That awful glare.
As though your existence alone had simply inconvenienced him.
You had never understood where all this hostility had come from.
Freshman year had begun with nothing more than two talented teenagers chasing the same dream.
Somewhere along the way…it had become war.
Perhaps it had started the moment people compared the two of you. Perhaps it began after your first victory over him.
Or maybe the rivalry had been inevitable from the very beginning. You had discovered soccer long before you discovered freedom.
Growing up beneath the suffocating expectations of an overly controlling mother meant every decision had already been planned for you. Your future had been neatly packaged before you were old enough to decide whether you even wanted it.
Soccer ruined those plans. Or perhaps…
It saved them. The first time your foot struck a ball, something inside you awakened.
Confidence. Purpose. Ego.
Not the ugly kind people whispered about. The kind that refused to settle. The kind that looked impossible in the face and smiled.
You wanted to become the best. Not because someone expected it. Because you decided you deserved it.
For a while…You believed nothing could stand in your way. Then Jeon Jungkook appeared.
And suddenly your jackpot became your greatest obstacle.
He possessed spatial awareness so unnatural it bordered on terrifying. Entire formations bent around him. Defenders lost their composure. Midfielders unknowingly followed the routes he predicted for them before they even realized they were moving.
Even when he didn’t have possession…It somehow still felt like he controlled the game.
He controlled people. Sometimes, embarrassingly enough…He even controlled you.
You despised admitting it.
But there were moments where your body reacted to his movements before your brain could catch up, as if he’d forced you into the exact position he wanted simply by existing.
It was maddening. Unfair. Brilliant.
Jungkook embodied everything you simultaneously admired and resented.
He was infuriatingly handsome, though you’d sooner collapse from exhaustion than admit it aloud. Sweat darkened the strands of his black hair, his sleeves rolled carelessly to his forearms, and despite playing an entire match, he looked annoyingly composed.
If he’d lose that venomous mouth, If he’d stop glaring at you like you were the greatest inconvenience he’d ever encountered…
If he’d show even one expression besides cold indifference…He’d probably be someone you’d date.
Keyword—Probably. The thought made you internally grimace. Absolutely not.
Not while he insisted on being the most arrogant human being to ever lace up a pair of cleats.
Still…None of that mattered. Not today. Not here. Because there was one truth you refused to accept.
Jeon Jungkook beat you at nearly everything. Grades. Fitness tests. Awards.
Recognition.
Even the media loved comparing your names as though your lives revolved around each other. Second place had become a title you were beginning to resent.
You were sick of hearing people say his name before yours. Sick of watching him stand one step higher. Sick of losing.
Especially in soccer.
Soccer wasn’t merely a sport. It was the one place where your heartbeat finally made sense. Where your thoughts stopped racing. Where every instinct inside you screamed that you belonged. You would lose sleep.
Destroy your body. Break every limit you had. If that was what it took. Because if you couldn’t defeat Jeon Jungkook here—
Then who possibly could?
The referee’s whistle finally split through the chaos. One long, shrill sound. Then another.
“Thirty-minute break!”
It almost felt offensive.
You weren’t even close to reaching your limit. Your lungs still had air to burn. Your legs still had another sprint buried somewhere beneath the ache. Your mind still hadn’t fully locked in. The game had only just begun.
You stood frozen for a moment near midfield, chest rising and falling in uneven breaths as your gaze remained glued to the giant scoreboard hanging above the stadium.
5–5. Still tied. Still unfinished. Still irritating.
You clicked your tongue quietly. Just when you were beginning to understand the rhythm of Jungkook’s team—just when the puzzle pieces inside your head were beginning to align—the match had been interrupted. It felt like someone had paused a movie before the climax.
Annoying.
Your fingers curled around the hem of your jersey as you exhaled through your nose, replaying the previous twenty-five minutes over and over again inside your head. The passing lanes. The blind spots. The openings Jungkook intentionally left exposed.
No…Not openings. Bait.
Everything that man did had a purpose. Every sprint. Every fake. Every unnecessary glance over his shoulder. He was always trying to lure someone into making a mistake. A trap disguised as opportunity.
Your thoughts spiraled so deeply that the world around you gradually dissolved into silence. The cheers. The chatter. The whistles.
Gone. Until—Smack.
A hand landed squarely against your back with enough force to shove you half a step forward.“What the—”
Your body jerked on instinct. A sharp remark already climbed to the tip of your tongue as you whipped around, ready to verbally obliterate whichever idiot had decided now was the perfect time to test your patience.
Instead…You found Kai grinning at you. Of course.
Her ponytail bounced as she laughed, completely unbothered by the murderous glare you sent her. “There you are!” she chirped as if she hadn’t nearly launched your soul out of your body. “You’ve been staring at the scoreboard for, like…forever.”
“…You almost dislocated my spine.”
“It builds character.”
“It builds hospital bills.” Kai simply laughed louder.
She had an irritating talent for pretending every insult directed at her was somehow a compliment.
Truthfully…She wasn’t a bad person. Far from it.
She was kind. Supportive. Optimistic to an almost dangerous degree. The type of girl capable of finding sunshine in the middle of a thunderstorm.
Unfortunately…She was also completely delusional.
Kai possessed this strange habit of telling people exactly what they wanted to hear, regardless of whether it was true. She floated through life with endless optimism, convinced everything would somehow work itself out with enough positive thinking.
You admired that. From a distance. Because the two of you couldn’t have been more different.
She adored makeup. You barely remembered it existed. She collected romance novels. You collected soccer cleats. She planned cute dates. You planned offensive formations.
While the rest of the girls in your grade spent lunch gossiping about crushes and relationships with Kai in the center of every conversation, you usually found yourself somewhere else entirely—with a soccer ball at your feet.
You considered her a friend. Just…Not in the inseparable way everyone assumed.
Kai was simply…Too much. Too loud. Too pink. Too obsessed with boys. Honestly, sometimes you wondered if she remembered other hobbies existed.
By your count, she’d dated enough people throughout high school to accidentally create her own family tree.
Freshman. Sophomore. Junior. And now Senior. Every year came with another boyfriend. At this point, you were fairly convinced she had worked through almost the entire male student population.
There was absolutely no way she was still a virgin. Not that it was any of your business.
It was simply…statistics. Dating history didn’t lie. Well…Almost the entire male student population.
One name had somehow escaped her collection. Jeon Jungkook.
Though, to be fair…That wasn’t exactly surprising. Jungkook treated soccer with more affection than he treated human beings.
As far as you could tell, soccer was his first love. His second love was winning. His third love was studying. People didn’t even make the list.
Kai followed your gaze toward the opposing side of the field before letting out a dreamy sigh. “Your team is hanging in there,” she said with a small laugh, wiping sweat from her forehead. “But Jungkook’s team is seriously relentless.”
You blinked. “…Are you blind? We’re literally tied.”
“I know.”
“…So…” You tilted your head head at her, your messy yet lose ponytail swaying slightly due to the soft breeze.
“They’re just… scarier.”
You stared at her. “…That doesn’t even make sense.”
“It does in my head.”
You decided not to unpack whatever logic existed inside Kai’s brain.
Instead, you simply nodded awkwardly before grabbing a water bottle from the cooler nearby.
Around you, exhaustion finally caught up with everyone else. Several of your teammates had collapsed onto the grass, arms spread dramatically as though they’d survived some life-threatening expedition. Others sat in small groups, gulping down water while coaches hurried around offering last-minute advice.
Across the field…Jungkook’s team looked no different. A few players lay flat on their backs, completely motionless. Some stretched sore muscles. Others quietly discussed strategies. One player had already wandered off toward the bathrooms.
The break had transformed the battlefield into something strangely peaceful. At least…For everyone else.
Kai, unfortunately, had rediscovered her favorite topic. “…He’s seriously unbelievable though.”
You already knew where this was going.
“His vision on the field?” Silence. “His footwork?” Silence. “The way he reads everyone?”
Silence. “And have you actually looked at him today?”
Your eye twitched. “Kai.”
“What?”
“Don’t.”
“He looks ridiculously handsome.”
You sighed.
“The black jersey looks amazing on him.”
“…”
“And his hair?”
“…”
“And that serious expression?”
“…”
“I think it’s kind of hot.”
Your eyes rolled so aggressively you briefly worried they’d disappear into the back of your skull. You honestly couldn’t understand it.
But attractive because he constantly looked one inconvenience away from insulting someone’s entire bloodline?
Absolutely not. His personality wasn’t mysterious. It was terrible.
The guy carried himself like he’d personally declared emotions illegal. Every sentence that left his mouth sounded less like conversation and more like a verbal execution.
Kai noticed your expression immediately. A slow grin spread across her face. “…You rolled your eyes.”
“I blinked, dumbass.”
“No, you definitely rolled your eyes.”
“I didn’t.”
“You always do that whenever someone mentions Jungkook.”
“I absolutely do not.”
“Mhm.”
“I don’t.”
Kai leaned closer, lowering her voice dramatically. “You know…”
“…No.”
“I haven’t even said anything.”
“I already know where this is going.”
“I think you secretly like him.”
You nearly inhaled your own water. “Cough—”
Kai burst into laughter. “There it is!”
“I would rather retire from soccer.”
“Oh my God, you’re blushing.”
“I am absolutely not blushing.”
“You totally are.”
“It’s called high blood pressure, from your stupidity.”
“Mhm.”
“I literally hate you.”
She giggled uncontrollably while you rubbed your temple, wondering whether abandoning her in the middle of the conversation would count as self-care.
Then—Movement. Your attention shifted almost instinctively. Across the field. Past the benches. Past the coaches. Past the exhausted players.
Jungkook walked alone toward one of the smaller buildings beside the stadium. The old storage room. Converted into a temporary break room for the players.
His towel rested casually around his neck as one hand disappeared into his pocket, completely ignoring everyone around him.
Just like always. Alone. Your eyes narrowed. For a brief second…
Time seemed to slow.
Years of unfinished arguments. Countless defeats. Endless insults. Every challenge. Every stare. Every infuriating smirk. Every second-place trophy.
Everything rushed back at once. A slow smile tugged at the corner of your lips. Not a happy smile. A dangerous one.
Good. Finally. No teammates. No coaches. No audience. Just the two of you. Maybe it was time to settle this ridiculous rivalry that had been festering since freshman year.
Maybe it was time to ask why the hell he looked at you like you were both his greatest obstacle…and his favorite one.
Without another word, you twisted the cap back onto your water bottle and started walking.
Behind you, Kai was still talking. “…And another thing about Jungkook—wait! Where are you going?”
You didn’t answer. Her voice continued calling after you as you crossed the field. It gradually dissolved into the distance. The only thing occupying your mind now…
Was the boy disappearing behind the break room door.
The fluorescent lights of the break room hummed their monotonous hymn, a buzzing requiem for the silence that had settled like dust upon the linoleum floors. Jungkook moved through the space with the languid grace of a predator recently fed—though his hunger, dark and insatiable, had merely shifted its appetite from the soccer field to something far more dangerous. His fingers, still bearing the phantom sting of grass and the game being tied, wrapped around a plastic bottle of water, condensation beading like morning dew upon his skin.
He sat. The chair groaned beneath the weight of him—not merely his physical form, which had been carved by discipline and desire into something statuesque and terrible, but the weight of his presence, that suffocating aura that seemed to consume the oxygen in any room he entered. His hair, damp from the showers and the exertion of the game, fell across his forehead in dark, silken strands. He raked his hand through it, pushing the disobedient locks back, revealing the sharp architecture of his face: those hooded eyes that held galaxies of secrets, the jawline that could cut glass, the mouth that curved perpetually into something between a smirk and a snarl.
For five seconds—five precious, golden seconds—the world was quiet. The water was cold against his throat. His muscles, coiled tight beneath his practice jersey, began to unspool. Peace, fragile and fleeting, settled over him like a veil.
Then the door screamed.
It was not merely the sound of metal against metal, but a shriek of protest, a dying wail of hinges that had long since surrendered their dignity. The sound tore through the sanctuary of silence, and Jungkook did not flinch—he never flinched—but his eyes, those dark pools of liquid midnight, remained fixed upon the wall ahead, refusing to acknowledge the storm that had just breached his solitude.
You stood there, a silhouette framed by the harsh corridor light behind you, your arms crossed over your chest like armor. The posture screamed defiance, screamed war, screamed all the things that Jungkook had grown weary of in the months of your rivalry. He could feel your gaze burning into him, could taste your fury like copper on his tongue, and yet he remained motionless, a mountain unmoved by the petty winds of your wrath.
"We’re settling this," you began, your voice a blade dragged across stone, rough and ready to draw blood. "Once and for all, Jeon."
Jungkook chuckled then, a sound like dry leaves skittering across concrete, hollow and devoid of mirth. He waved his hand at you—a gesture so dismissive, so utterly contemptuous, that it spoke volumes more than any words could have. Leave, the motion said. You are beneath my notice. You are nothing.
But you were not nothing. You were fury incarnate, rage given form and breath and beating heart. You straightened from your lean against the doorframe, your spine snapping rigid with indignation, and you moved toward him with the quick, sharp strides of someone who had forgotten the meaning of fear. Behind you, the door swung shut with a sound like thunder—a finality that should have warned you, should have sent that primal instinct screaming through your veins that something was wrong, that the trap had been sprung, that there was no retreat now.
But you heard nothing over the roar of your own anger.
You stood before him now, close enough to smell the clean scent of soap and sweat and something uniquely, dangerously him. He towered over you, a monolith of indifference, his eyes distant and cold as winter stars. You had to tilt your head back to meet his gaze, your neck exposed, vulnerable, and still you pointed that single, trembling finger toward the hard, broad plane of his chest.
"This ends here," you spat, each word a bullet seeking its target. "Today. I'm sick of your arrogance, your superiority complex. You need to stop thinking you're better than everyone else, you—"
"I don't think."
His voice cut through your tirade like a scythe through wheat, brutal and efficient. His hand shot up, cuffing your wrist mid-gesture, his fingers iron bands around your fragile bones. You fell silent, shocked by the sudden contact, by the heat of him, by the casual strength with which he held you captive.
"I know," he finished, his tone flat as the surface of a frozen lake.
Your mind raced, screaming at you to strike him, to plant your fist in that perfect face and watch the blood bloom like roses across his skin. But your body betrayed you, frozen in the magnetic field of his proximity, and so you did the only thing your spinning consciousness could grasp—you reached for words like weapons, sharp and dirty and desperate.
"Fuck you," you hissed, the syllables dripping venom.
Jungkook said nothing. He merely looked at you, his expression detached, clinical, as if observing a particularly uninteresting specimen beneath glass. You pushed against his chest with your free hand, attempting to shove him back, to reclaim some semblance of power in this encounter, but he might as well have been carved from marble for all the good it did. He did not budge. He did not blink.
But something shifted in those dark eyes. A subtle wandering, a predator's assessment of prey. His gaze traced the contours of your body with the same analytical detachment he might apply to a tactical diagram, yet there was heat beneath the coldness—banked, controlled, but undeniably present.
You were not the willowy creatures gracing magazine covers, all sharp angles and impossible proportions. But you were something else—something real, something with substance. Your hourglass curves spoke of a different kind of beauty, one that promised softness and warmth and the sweet give of flesh beneath demanding hands. And your breasts, perfectly average, perfectly yours—not the inflated fantasies of adolescent desire, but the real, warm weight that would fit so precisely into the palms of his large, capable hands.
If only, his eyes seemed to say, you would cease this bratty performance. If only you would be silent. If only you would genuinely shut the fuck up.
He sighed, a sound of profound weariness, and interrupted your stream of fresh insults with the same casual brutality he applied to everything in his life.
"Are you done with your tantrum?" he asked, his voice a monotone that somehow managed to convey infinite contempt.
You hissed at him, baring your teeth like a cornered kitten attempting to frighten a tiger. The comparison was not lost on him—a flicker of amusement, dark and dangerous, passed behind his eyes. You gritted your teeth, your jaw aching with the force of it, and delivered what you hoped would be the killing blow.
"Screw you," you snarled. "You'll never get any bitches with that attitude, you arrogant—"
Jungkook scoffed, the sound morphing into a low, rumbling chuckle that vibrated through his chest and into the space between you.
"Apparently," he drawled, his voice dropping an octave, becoming something that wrapped around your spine like velvet-covered chains, "I do have bitches. And apparently, you're one of them. Otherwise, why are you here? Why this pointless argument, this constant need for my attention?"
"I don't—" But your words died in your throat as his hands moved.
They were everywhere at once—one flying to your waist, the other catching your other wrist—and then you were being pulled, dragged, consumed by the gravitational pull of his body. You collided with him, chest to chest, hip to hip, and then his mouth was on yours and the world caught fire.
It was not a kiss. Not really.
Kisses were soft things, tender things, exchanged in moonlight and whispered promises. This was war. This was conquest. This was two souls colliding with the force of opposing storms, teeth clashing, breath mingling in ragged gasps. You tasted copper and desperation and something sweet that might have been victory or might have been defeat, and you could not tell where you ended and he began.
He broke away for a heartbeat, just long enough to let you suck in a desperate lungful of air, to let your vision clear enough to see the predatory gleam in his eyes as he looked down at you. His breathing was heavy, controlled chaos, and his glare could have stripped paint from walls.
"You're much more tolerable like this," he murmured, his voice rough as gravel. "With your mouth...preoccupied."
"I—"
He swallowed your retort, crushing his lips against yours with renewed violence. The force of it drove you backward, step by staggering step, until your spine met the unforgiving wall and there was nowhere left to run. Jungkook pressed against you, a wall of muscle and heat and relentless intent, and you felt his thigh insinuate itself between your legs, spreading them with casual dominance.
You fought. You fought because it was all you knew how to do, because submission felt like death, because some part of you needed to prove that you were still here, still resisting, still you despite the way he was dismantling your defenses brick by brick. Your hands pushed against his shoulders, your teeth nipped at his lip, but he absorbed your violence and gave it back transformed into something that made your knees weak.
"Air," you gasped when he finally, finally, pulled back just enough to let you breathe. "I need—"
It was all the opening you required.
With a surge of adrenaline-fueled strength, you shoved him—hard. Jungkook stumbled backward, surprise flickering across his features for the first time since you had entered the room, and then he was falling, falling backward onto the dark sofa that occupied the corner of the break room like a sleeping beast. He landed with a soft, breathless thud, hair falling across his eyes, and for a moment—just a moment—he looked almost vulnerable.
You advanced on him with murder in your heart and chaos in your veins. Your face was a mask of fury, though your eyes betrayed you, glazed and dazed from the oxygen deprivation and the lingering electricity of his mouth on yours. You stepped into the space between his spread knees, looming over him, pointing that accusatory finger once more.
"This ends here," you declared, your voice trembling only slightly. "Whatever this is, whatever sick game you're playing, it ends now."
Jungkook's expression shifted, the cold detachment cracking to reveal something far more dangerous beneath. A smirk curved his lips, slow and sinful, as he leaned back into the cushions. His dark hair fell across his forehead in disarray, giving him the appearance of some dark angel fallen from grace, and he spread his legs wider.
It was an invitation. A challenge. A gauntlet thrown.
You noticed, or perhaps you didn't—perhaps some part of your consciousness recognized the gesture and chose to ignore it, to pretend that you didn't see the way his practice shorts strained against his arousal, the way his eyes darkened further as they tracked your every movement. You stepped closer, into the trap, claiming your false victory.
"It was all you," Jungkook said, his voice that maddening monotone that made you want to scream. "Your tantrum. Your obsession. It ends when I say it ends."
"Like hell it—"
His hands shot out, lightning quick, and caught you by the waist. Before you could process what was happening, you were being yanked downward, pulled by forces you couldn't resist onto his lap. You landed with a gasp, straddling his waist, your legs thrown to either side of his hips, your center pressed flush against the hard plane of his stomach.
You opened your mouth to deliver insult number nine, some cutting remark about his ego or his skill or his utter lack of human decency, but the words died unborn as you felt it.
Beneath you, hard and insistent and undeniable, his arousal pressed against your covered core. The contact sent electricity arcing up your spine, a jolt of pure, unadulterated sensation that tore a gasp from your throat. Your eyes went wide, your hands flying to his shoulders for purchase, and you felt him—God, you felt him—thick and heavy and impossibly there against your most sensitive flesh.
Jungkook didn't smirk. He didn't laugh. He didn't react with the same shocked paralysis that had seized your entire being. Instead, he pulled you in for another kiss, violent and claiming, while his hand moved to tangle in the loose ponytail at the nape of your neck.
His grip was iron. His fingers, large and veined and powerful, wrapped around the base of your skull and yanked—not gently, not carefully, but with the brutal certainty of someone who knew exactly what he wanted and how to take it. Your head snapped back, your neck exposed, and a yelp of surprise escaped your lips.
Snap.
The rubber band holding your hair surrendered to his strength, breaking with a sound like a gunshot in the quiet room. Your hair cascaded down, a waterfall of silk and shadow spilling across your shoulders, framing your face in disarray. Jungkook's eyes tracked the movement, darkening further, and when he spoke, his voice was rough as broken glass.
"I can't stand brats like you," he said, each word a hammer striking anvil. "Always throwing tantrums. Always demanding attention. You'll never get what you want, not from me. Not like this."
Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes—tears of frustration, of helplessness, of a rage that had nowhere left to go. Fear settled in the pit of your stomach, a cold stone sinking through water, but the anger—that eternal, burning anger—refused to be extinguished.
Despite the angle of your head, despite the vulnerability of your position with your throat exposed and his hand still tangled in your hair, you found a way to fight back. You gathered what moisture you could and spat, the gesture crude and desperate and final.
The saliva landed on his cheek, trailing down toward his jaw.
Jungkook didn't flinch. He didn't wipe it away. He merely tightened his grip on your hair until stars burst behind your eyes and a groan—humiliating, involuntary—was forced from your throat.
And then, just when you thought he might tear the hair from your scalp, he released you.
His hand withdrew from your hair, leaving your scalp tingling, your nerves raw and screaming. You had a moment of respite, a heartbeat of hope that this torture might finally end, before his other hand—the one not supporting your weight—began to move.
It traveled slowly, achingly slowly, down the column of your throat. His palm was large enough to span the entire width of your neck, his fingers long enough to wrap around with room to spare. You felt each digit settle into place, felt the calluses from years of athletic endeavor rough against your smooth skin, and then he squeezed.
Not enough to truly choke, not enough to cut off your airway completely, but enough to remind you. Enough to dominate. Enough to make a wheezing sound rip from your throat, high and thin and helpless.
The sound was still echoing in the room when you shifted.
It was involuntary, a reaction to the overwhelming sensory input, the need to relieve the pressure between your legs that had built to an unbearable pitch. You rocked your hips, just slightly, your covered core dragging across the hard length of him trapped beneath his shorts.
The sensation was electric.
Your whole body jolted, a spasm of pure, unexpected pleasure that arched your back and forced a whimper from your lips. Jungkook watched you with those cold, dark eyes, giving nothing away, but his hand at your hip tightened, his fingers digging into your flesh with bruising force.
He pushed you down. Harder. Grinding you against him with deliberate, torturous slowness, as if testing your reactions, as if cataloging every gasp and tremor for future use. Or perhaps—perhaps he simply enjoyed watching you fall apart, enjoyed the power of reducing you from a raging opponent to a whimpering, needy thing in his lap.
Then, without warning, his hands were at your waist, both of them, gripping with possessive strength. He began to move you, lifting and settling your hips in a rhythm that made your vision blur. Your hands flew to his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, seeking anchor in the storm he was creating.
Your eyes rolled back, your mouth falling open in a silent scream. You could feel yourself soaking through your shorts, through his, could feel the wet heat of your arousal making a mess of his lap, and the shame of it should have been overwhelming but instead it only fueled the fire.
"Look at you," Jungkook murmured, and there was something almost like wonder in his voice, dark and twisted. "Look at what you really are."
His hands left your waist, traveled upward with devastating slowness, and cupped your breasts through your shirt. The weight of them in his large palms, the way his thumbs brushed over your nipples even through the layers of fabric, sent sparks shooting through your nervous system. You wouldn't admit it, would never speak the words aloud, but the sight of his hands on you—those powerful, athlete's hands sinful against your smooth skin—did something to you. Something primal. Something that made your core clench with empty, aching need.
Then his hands were back at your waist, and he was moving you faster.
The rhythm he set was punishing, relentless, driving you toward a precipice you hadn't known existed. You yelped at the sudden change, your fingers digging into his shoulders, feeling the hard muscle flex and shift beneath your grip. You were crying out now, unable to stop the sounds that tore from your throat—whimpers and gasps and broken, breathless moans that echoed off the walls of the empty break room.
You could feel it building, the pressure coiling tight in your belly, a spring wound to breaking. Each drag of your hips against his hardness, each shift of his hands guiding your movements, drove you higher, closer, until you were teetering on the edge of something vast and terrifying and necessary.
With one final, brutal grind—his hands forcing you down hard, holding you there as he thrust up against you—you shattered.
You crashed against him, your body convulsing, violent tremors racing through your limbs like electricity. You were sobbing, actually sobbing, tears tracking down your cheeks as the waves of pleasure crashed over you again and again, relentless and overwhelming. You called him names between hitching breaths—asshole, evil, monster—and he let you, let you pour your venom into the space between them while your body betrayed you with every aftershock.
Jungkook said nothing. He let you sit there, trembling and wrecked in his lap, let you come down from the high with your forehead pressed against his shoulder, your breath hot and damp against his neck. He waited until the tremors subsided, until your sobs became hiccups, until you went limp against him with exhaustion.
Then he moved.
His hands gripped your waist and lifted, easily, effortlessly, setting you aside on the sofa cushions. You collapsed there, boneless and confused, watching through blurred vision as he climbed to his feet and then descended upon you, caging you against the dark fabric with his body.
He loomed over you, a silhouette against the harsh fluorescent light, his eyes burning with a darkness that made your spent body stir with renewed, confused heat. He leaned down, his breath hot against your ear, and when he spoke, his voice was soft as a knife sliding between ribs.
"I'm only getting started," he whispered.
And the door, that broken, screaming door, remained closed.
Author’s Note: genuinely, I had a fetish for mean Jungkook—still do
Being the heirs of rival mafia families means that you and Jungkook are supposed to be sworn enemies. Yet, as much as you claim to hate each other – deep down, you both know that the feeling is so much more than that. A feeling you both act oblivious to and bury under a haze of lust.
genre – enemies to lovers au, smut, denial,angst¿.
pairing – jungkook x fem reader.
warnings – explicit language, smut, pussy-whipped possessive jk, jk & oc bicker a lot, fingering, rough fucking (oc likes it rough), oc is very vocal (jk LOVES it) , mentions of creampie, spanking, oral (both receiving), titty worship, jk praises oc, squirting, okay basically they're obsessed with fucking eo. etc.
wc – 14k+
you're currently sitting in one of the most grand and luxurious ballrooms in the city. tonight is supposed to be something neutral - a friendly ceremony. one of those where every major family in the underworld pretended civility for a few hours before going back to fortresses to plan their next betrayals.
the jeon family is occupying the left side of tables, whereas your family is occupying the right - as far away from each other as possible. your father is standing near the bar, looking every bit the rich, powerful and dangerous mafia, he is, while glaring at his rival - the head of the jeon family, jungkook's father. who, in return, stares back at him with the same cold, hateful look.
they hate each other so much. if there's a feeling stronger than that, then that is exactly what they feel for each other.
your eyes continue to roam around the room until they find jungkook. he's leaning against a pillar near his family's side, looking so fuckable in that tailored suit he's wearing, with the first few buttons left open, giving you a glimpse of his chest and the ink on his shoulder. his hair is a bit longer than the last time you ran your fingers through it, which you're thankful for because it looks even better than it usually does.
he looks bored until his eyes find yours. you hate how your heart stutters at the eye contact. it's been three weeks since he last had you pinned against his office desk, three weeks since he had you whimpering beneath him, three weeks since he fucked the living daylights out of you.
you tear your gaze away first, accepting champagne from one of the servers who happens to be too scared to even meet your eyes. every few minutes you would catch him staring holes into you, eyeing you. you knew that he'd be here drinking you in and that's exactly why you've decided to wear an elegant gown that's just a little revealing - cut low at the back with a slit running up your thigh. easy access.
after a few minutes of sitting, you decide it's time to slip away for a little while. you excuse yourself and no one questions it. heirs disappear all the time, whether it's to powder their noses, make discreet calls or converse with family allies, so it's a normal thing to do without getting suspicions.
you walk through the crowd until you reach the long corridor that leads to the private restrooms, inside the women's restroom is pristine and polished. there's a massive mirror stretched across the wall above the vanity. you set your bag down and study your reflection. you look perfect, but still, you tuck a small strand of hair behind your ear and adjust your hair - not because you need to, but because you know that he'll be here soon.
and right on cue, the door opens slowly, closes once he's inside and locks. instead of turning to face him, you watch him in the mirror. he leans against the wall with his arms crossed and head tilted, watching you watch yourself.
"still primping?" his voice is rough and a little mocking. "thought you'd at least pretend that you weren't waiting for me."
you roll your eyes at him. "thought you'd at least pretend that you aren't desperate enough to follow me into the bathroom like some horny teenager."
he huffs out a laugh. "three weeks is a long time, princess."
"don't call me that."
"why not?" he pushes off the wall and approaches you slowly. "you know you love it when i call you that."
"i love a lot of things you do with your mouth. talking isn't one of them."
he stops directly behind you, his hands settling on the vanity on either side of you, caging you in without touching you. his scent fills your lungs, something that isn't too strong, but still expensive, that signature smell of his that's grown to give you some kind of comfort you're unable to explain.
"look at you," he murmurs. "all dressed up, standing there and trying to convince yourself you hate me."
"i do hate you."
"yeah?" his lips brush your earlobe. "then why're you shaking? nervous?"
you scoff before speaking. "because i'm imagining all the ways i can kill you."
he chuckles against your skin. "liar."
your breath hitches when you feel one of his hands sliding up one of your thighs, under the slit of your dress, until he finds your core and cups it over your underwear. his palm rests there, making you suck in a breath.
"i missed you," he says quietly,
your eyes snap to his in the mirror. he doesn't have that cocky look on his face. his eyes roam your body with that hunger that makes you feel weak.
"three weeks," he repeats. "way too fucking long."
his lips find the side of your neck.
"don't." you warn.
"don't what?" he leaves an open-mouthed kiss on your neck. "don't tell you the truth? or don't do this?"
"both." you breathe out.
"too late,"
his other hand goes up to grab a fistful of your hair, tugging it back so your head is leaning on his shoulder. in the mirror you watch your reflection, noticing how your lips part and eyes darken.
"look at us," he rasps against your throat. "look how fucking perfect you look with my hands on you."
you try to glare at him, but unfortunately your eyes look more pleading than anything.
"shut up, jeon."
"why don't you make me?"
you gasp in his mouth when he suddenly kisses you roughly and passionately, showing you just how much he's been needing this the past few weeks. you arch back into him without thinking, your ass pressing against his cock through his slacks, making him groan into your mouth.
your hands thread through his hair, angling his head where you want him so you can lick deep into his mouth. he groans again, and rewards you by cupping your core harder, the heel of his hand pressing against your clit causing your hips to buck forward.
"fuck," you gasp into his mouth.
he swallows the sound and kisses you harder while his fingers slip into your underwear. two of them caress your folds, gathering your wetness before circling your clit the way you like. he starts off slow at first then picks up the pace, going faster. you can't help the needy moan that slips out of you and the way your pussy clenches around him.
he breaks the kiss to murmur against your lips. "so wet already. been dreaming about this pussy for three weeks straight.
"oh, shut up," you hiss.
he pushes two fingers inside you until they're knuckles deep. your eyes flutter closed as you let out soft moans of pleasure that become more audible when he starts pumping his fingers inside you deeper. you meet the thrusts of his fingers shamelessly.
"how nice that you're clenching around my fingers in a bathroom while our families are a couple feet away plotting each other's deaths."
again, you try to glare at him but miserably fail when he curls his fingers inside you.
"jeon-"
he pulls his fingers out of you and your eyes open widely at the loss. you whip your head around to glare at him properly now. he just smirks down at you, looking all cocky again. that sight makes you want to slap him and ride him at the same time.
without breaking eye contact with you, he brings his hand to his mouth and sucks your arousal off his fingers. his tongue swirling around each of them slowly. you stare at him. he's so filthy and you love it.
"asshole," you say.
he ignores your rude comment and spins you back around so fast your hands slap down onto the vanity to steady yourself. you're facing the mirror fully now with him behind you. his eyes locked on yours in the reflection again. he doesn't say anything, he reaches down and unbuckles his belt, opens the buttons of his slacks then pulls down the zipper.
you watch every single thing he does in the mirror. watching as he pulls his pants and boxers down halfway. watching as his hard length springs free. your mouth goes dry (even as you mentally salivate at the sight). he wraps a hand around himself, giving himself a few strokes, from the base up to the tip, spreading his precum with his thumb. he reaches down between your legs again, collects more of your arousal and uses it as lubrication on himself as he keeps stroking his cock. you clench around nothing just watching until he stops touching himself.
with one hand he reaches for the hem of your dress and pulls it up over your hips, bunching it at your hips. the other hand he uses to pull your underwear down, so it pools at your ankles. the cool air hitting your soaked core and the anticipation make you tremble a little. jungkook groans at the sight of you like this -trembling, your ass bare and pussy glistening.
"so fucking pretty." he mutters mostly to himself.
after admiring you for a few more seconds his fingers are on you again rubbing your clit until you twitch and chase the pressure for a short while before he withdraws his fingers and brings them to his mouth again, sucking them clean with a hum of satisfaction.
"you're disgusting." you whisper.
he leans over so his chest presses against your back and talks near your ear.
"don't act like you don't love it."
you want to say something to argue, but he's right. very much right.
he lines himself at your entrance, sliding his tip inside and pulling out, teasing you (and himself)
"jungkook–"
"tell me you want me." he says.
you bite your lip when he sinks in a little deeper, stretching you open.
"say it, princess."
"fuck you." you hiss.
he lets out a little disbelieved scoff. but pushes in slowly, filling you with his large length until he's all the way in, buried to the brim with his hips flush against your ass. you both freeze, eyes locked in the mirror. both of you looking wrecked. jungkook flexes inside of you causing you to whimper. he stays there buried inside you, not moving, just giving you a stern look.
you put your pride aside and whisper, "i want you, jungkook."
"good girl." he murmurs.
he pulls out almost all the way before slamming back in. again and again. his thrusting in and out of you drives you insane. your palms slide against the vanity, fingers curling, wishing you could grip on something instead.
"faster," you demand with a sweet gasp.
he leans down, speaking near your ear. "beg for me."
you lift your head to glare at his reflection. "fuck. you."
he grins, knowing his luck wasn't going to work. he gives you what you want. he increases his pace, fucking you with a rhythm that has you seeing stars. the entire time you try your best not to look away from him. you want to watch him fuck and mark you.
his free hand slides up your back pushing it down so you're arching beautifully, giving him a better and deeper angle. your moans and his groans grow louder as the pleasure builds for both of you.
"you feel too good," he pants. "so tight and wet. you've really been waiting for me, hmm?"
"i wasn't." you lie as your walls flutter around him.
"liar." he growls and punctuates it with a hard thrust.
you cry out from pleasure and a little bit of pain. one of his hands slide down to find your clit, rubbing it circles that match his brutal thrusts.
"jungkook- fuck. don't stop."
"i won't," he says through gritted teeth. "not until you're coming all over my cock."
you whimper and clench hard around him. the sensation causes him to groan loudly.
"f-fuck," he grunts.
you do it again. your walls clamp down on him hard making his thrusts stutter. his hips slam forward one last time, buried in completely before he halts his movements.
"stop," he grits out. "stop clenching me like that, you're gonna make me come too fast."
you let out a breathless, mocking laugh before speaking. "poor baby. can't handle it?"
after registering your words, his hand comes down to deliver a sharp smack to your ass. the sting is delicious and causes you to involuntarily flutter around him again.
"brat," he hisses. "if you want me to fuck you properly then behave."
you force yourself to relax, trying to loosen your muscles even though your body is screaming to pull him deeper, to keep him there inside you where he belongs.
the second you unclench around him, he rewards you but pulling all the way out and slamming back in with a force that has your eyes rolling back.
he sets a perfect pace that makes it impossible for you to stay quiet as much as you can try. sweet loud moans and profanities leave your mouth that is definitely audible to anyone outside; "jungkook– oh God–yes right there! – fuck–"
he curses under his breath before placing his palm over your mouth, muffling your loud, inappropriate sounds before you attract any attention.
"shh. you wanna get us caught? want your father kicking down the door while i'm balls deep in his little princess?"
the image of that terrifies you. it would be an abomination if something like that ever happened. your father has been very vocal about his pure hatred for the jeons, including the one currently giving you one of the best fucks of your life. but still jungkook always feel too good for you to control yourself, so unfortunately you cannot help the whiny, muffled moan that slips out of you.
"fuck's sake."
he slides two fingers past your lips, pushing them deep in your mouth until they hit the back of your tongue.
"suck." he orders. "keep that pretty mouth busy."
you obey without hesitation. wrapping your lips around his fingers and sucking hard, hollowing your cheeks and swirling your tongue the same way you'd done to his cock more times that you could count. thinking of the blowjobs you've given him makes you hum around his fingers, eager to feel him in your mouth again.
"that's it." he rasps. "prettiest sounds i've ever heard."
you whimper around his fingers. his thrusts get harder and deeper, making your toes curl.
after a few minutes, your pussy starts fluttering around him causing his breath to hitch.
"there it is," he groans and picks up the pace even more. "love when you do that. when your greedy little cunt starts begging for it."
you try to speak, try to beg, but his fingers are still deep in your mouth so all that comes is a desperate, garbled whine.
"come with me. let me feel you." he orders.
after the last thrust, you release with a muffled sob of his name. your pussy spasms and milks him so hard he swears violently under his breath. he follows you right after, burying himself as deep as possible and releases inside you until you feel it leaking out around him, dripping down your thighs. his hand goes up to cup your jaw gently, tilting your face so he can leave a soft kiss on your temple before carefully pulling out. you whimper at the loss, he watches himself leaving you as your combined release drips.
"fuck, that's so hot."
you shake your head despite the heat warming up your cheeks at his words. "we have to get cleaned up, jeon. we've got something to get back to."
he reaches for one of the thick towels from the stack on the counter and wets it under the tap. he kneels behind you. the sight of jeon jungkook on his knees in a tailored suit is definitely something out of your wettest dreams.
he cleans you up, wiping between your thighs. he's so gentle it surprises you, because some seconds ago he was fucking you like he hated you. once most of the evidence is gone, he looks up at you and leaves the softest kiss to the back of your thigh before standing up again.
"don't get used the princess treatment, yeah?" he murmurs, tossing the towel in the bin. "next time i'm leaving you dripping down your legs."
you roll your eyes at him for the one millionth time. "next time you'll be lucky if i let you touch me at all."
"sure."
he turns his attention to your messy appearance. your dress is a bit creased and still bunched up at your waist. your hair looks - well it looks like you've been thoroughly fucked, which of course you were. your lipstick is smudged and your mascara smeared under your eyes. he steps in close and starts fixing you. neatening your dress, adjusting your dress's straps with his fingertips mistakenly grazing over your breasts.
"careful." you warn.
he hums amused and then moves to your hair, combing it with his fingers and brushing a stray strand behind your ear in a way that seems way too tender for people who are supposed to be enemies.
"there," he says quietly, stepping back to survey his work. "you look almost respectable again."
you turn to face him now. he looks delicious. his hair falls into his eyes, lips swollen from your kisses, his collar wrinkled and he's a little sweaty. he looks like he deserves the best and sloppiest head in the world.
you reach up without thinking, straighten his collar and smooth his shirt. before you can pull away, he catches your wrist and holds it there, near his chest.
"why're you looking at me like that, hmm?" he asks, staring down at you.
"like what?"
"like you want me to take you again. i will if you want me to."
you yank your hand free from his hold. "in your dreams, jeon."
"yeah, almost every night." he shoots back with a smirk.
you ignore his statement, despite the wanted eruption of butterflies you feel in your stomach. jungkook checks his watch with a sigh.
"we've been gone too long already." he says.
"you go first. i'll wait for a while then come out."
he nods before leaning in to press a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth. he gives you a little smirk then slips out the door. you give it at least two minutes before exiting the bathroom and slipping back into the hallway.
once you get back to your family's table you take your seat next to your mother, softly wincing at the dull, delicious ache between your legs. your mother turns to you immediately, her eyebrows knitting.
"what took you so long?" she asks while her eyes inspect you. "and your hair... it's a mess. are you alright?"
you force a smile. "i wasn't feeling well. must be the champagne and all the people. i needed a minute to breathe."
she studies you for another few seconds before her face softens. "poor thing. we won't stay much longer, i promise. your father's already been itching to leave anyway."
she reaches over and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. "you sure you're okay?"
"fine, mom, really."
she squeezes your hair once then turns back to whatever conversation she was having before you came. across the room, you see jungkook at his table again. he's sitting with his legs spread and an arm draped over the back of another chair. he looks so hot, still so fuckable, you wish you had agreed to let him take you again.
a server places a dish in front of him. a large piece of steak with some vegetables on the side. he picks up his fork and knife and digs in as if he hadn't just fucked his sworn enemy senseless in a bathroom minutes ago.
you've grown to learn that jungkook loves food, he loves eating. loves the way food feels on his tongue, loves the flavours, loves everything about it. but you've also grown to learn that if there's anything he loves to eat more than food - it's you.
you can't help but think about how he devours you like he's a starved man, instead of the rich, cocky bastard he usually is. the way he feasts on you, holding your thighs spread open until you're crying, shaking and begging him to stop but also to keep going.
your whole body heats up traitorously fast. damn jungkook and the stupid effect he has on you.
•───୨୧───•
a week passes by slowly, excruciatingly slow. all because it's been seven days of radio silence between you and jungkook. no messages, no random calls ending with you two having phone sex, no nothing. not that you really expected anything else, that was the deal. fuck and forget and hate each other. except this time you can't find yourself enjoying the last two very much.
you've spent most of the week locked in your own head, isolated in your fortress of an apartment. the one your father spent hundreds of thousands on. another one of the luxuries in your life that's starting to feel like a cage.
your parents love you, you know that, it's unquestionable. but love, in your family comes with terms and conditions. because your mother had complications getting pregnant again, you're an only child. the sole heir, the future of an empire that's built on money and dead bodies. you have a lot of expectations. one day the power will be yours, whether you want it or not.
and of course, you do not want it.
you want something better, something that actually makes you happy, something that's nothing like the obligations you're forced to have.
you want to write, live in your head and put your wildest thoughts on a piece of paper. you want to express all the thoughts you've never gotten to word into a book - every fantasy you've lived, every fantasy you have yet to live. it's all you ever wanted since you were a little girl.
you've majored in literature at a university your father only tolerated because it was an ivy league and it looked good on paper.
even in your free time, writing feels like the only thing that allows you to be your true self. so when you can, you write. most of the stories you write about one specific person you despise. jungkook. he's such an interesting source of inspiration for you, especially in all of the erotic stories you write. well of course he would be. that man gives you the time of your life every time his dick is buried deep inside you.
But your dreams and ambitions don't really matter. Because at the end of the day, your parents want security, powerful alliances and legacy. And lately whenever you were alone with your parents they started dropping hints.
"Have you ever thought about settling down?" your mother would casually ask.
Your father would nod before adding on. "There are good guys out there. Sons of men we trust. Strong families. It would solidify things."
They didn't name anyone yet, but you knew many of their friends from over the years. They were all powerful, all of them safe for you. All of them so fucking boring you wanted to scream.
You didn't argue with them because you didn't think you had a right to. You have to please your parents no matter what. Even if it means putting your own happiness on the line.
So you spent the next week in your own isolated bubble - writing whatever came to mind, treating yourself to whatever you wanted, ignoring the ache between your legs that could go away if you had Jungkook.
By saturday morning you still weren't feeling too good. Which is why you've decided to text your best friend Megan for a little spa day - which of course, she immediately agreed to.
After the most relaxing day of facials, body scrubs, massages, manicures and pedicures - you and Megan are finally feeling surreal, chilling in a jacuzzi. After a while of silence, Megan turns her head to look at you.
"You've been rather quiet today. What's up?" she asks.
"I'm always quiet."
"Not like this." she nudges your foot under the warm water with her own. "Something's on your mind. I can see you're thinking too hard."
"I'm just tired." you lie.
"bullshit .
You crack one eye open, noticing that she's watching you. Who are you kidding? This is Megan, your best friend of over nineteen years. If something's wrong with you, she'd definitely know.
You let out a defeated sigh. "It's a lot." you admit. "The empire, the expectations
. And there's - the rest of it,"
"The rest of it being your extremely hot, extremely forbidden hate sex situationship with Jeon Jungkook.?"
You groan and give her an annoyed look. "Don't start."
"I'm not starting. I'm just stating facts." she gives you a small smirk. "You two still pretend you hate each other's guts while simultaneously trying to break each others's pelvis everytime there's a gala?"
You glare at her. "I do hate him."
"Mmh."
"I can't stand him."
"Sure."
"He's arrogant, stupid, fucking annoying-"
"That's funny, you say." Megan cuts in. "You light up like a Christmas tree the second his name comes up."
You open your mouth, close it then open it again. "I only need his dick." you force the words out, knowing that they might not be entirely true. "That's it. Hate fuck. No feelings. No complications."
"It's okay to want more than that, you know." she says softly.
"I don't want more. I just want to write. I want to be free. I want to be... happy,"
Megan reaches over and squeezes your shoulder. "It's okay, y/n. You're allowed to want all of that. You shouldn't be forced to do anything you don't want to."
You swallow a little lump forming in your throat. "They think marriage will fix everything and we'll have more power. They haven't said it yet but I can feel it coming."
"So what're you gonna do when they pick someone?" Megan asks softly.''
"Then I guess I'm gonna have to learn to live with it." you let out a bitter laugh.
She doesn't say anything, silence sits between the two of you for a minute before she bumps her shoulder with yours.
"Jungkook's not on that list, is he?"
You grin in disbelief. "Definitely not. My father would sooner shoot him than shake his hand."
"You're not gonna miss him afterwards?"
You don't answer her right away. Because if you had again, it would taste too bitter. Would you miss Jungkook? You're not just scared to admit the truth to Megan, you're afraid to admit the truth to yourself as well. The ugly truth that's been developing for the past few months.
"That doesn't matter."
Megan smiles sadly. "You're gonna be okay."
You lean in closer and lay your head on her shoulder, feeling relieved that you've finally gotten some things off your chest,
•───୨୧───•
Once you get into your apartment, you kick off your shoes by the door and take off your coat, dropping it somewhere. With a loud sigh, you head straight towards the bar cabinet and grab the most expensive wine you have and pour a generous glass.
As you sip on the wine, you think to yourself. You don't want to marry some stranger. Wake up next to someone you know absolutely nothing about. Be with a person whose touch would feel foreign to you. Someone who would be polite with you, instead of the possessiveness you're now used to.
But, at the same time, you don't want to disappoint your parents. Legacy means everything to them, so you're not going to let them down. Even if it means spending the rest of your life being a miserable trophy married to a business partner.
Just as most times when you're feeling stressed or uneasy, your mind wanders off to Jungkook. How addictive his touches are. How rough he can be, yet so gentle. How he fucks you so good, you can't think of anyone else but him.
You want him here right now. Want him to shove you against the nearest surface, wrap your legs around his waist and fuck every last coherent thought out your head. You want him here to make you forget all about the weight of the crowns you never asked for...
You set the wine glass down and pick up your phone, opening your messages with him. Most of the texts are filthy things - provocative, sexy pictures sent to each other. Coordinates for hookup spots. Before you can think yourself out of it, you're typing a message
You : you busy tonight?
The three dots appear almost immediately,
Jungkook : yeah. Got things to handle til late.
After reading his message you let out a highly frustrated groan and carelessly toss your phone onto the couch.
"Fucking asshole. Busy when I need something."
You gulp down a huge sip of wine before you end up cursing him out.
You love sex, love the intimacy of it, love the way it feels, love absolutely everything about it. You've always been a rather needy woman, always. And when things first happened with Jungkook, your needs had become even more unbearable.
The first time with him happened almost a year ago. You were both dealing with business when something went wrong for both of you. You both ended up hurt, cornered somewhere with nowhere to go - stuck with each other.
The details of what happened that night is a story for another time ;) But somehow, for some reason, Jeon Jungkook had ended up kissing you. For unknown reasons you had started kissing him back. You kissed each other as if you were fighting, tongues colliding together, teeth clashing,saliva dripping down your chins.
Soon enough clothes were getting pulled off, bodies were gettting marked up and you were moaning the name you despised the most as he gave you the best orgasms of your life.
Since then, the two of you had made it a thing. Instead of killing each other, you used each other - fucking where you could - in his car, in yours, in private jets, in warehouses, in hotels he'd book.
The sex you have with Jungkook was undoubtedly the best thing you could ever experience. He's perfect when it comes to giving you a good time. He loves when you ride his face, loves eating you out until you're oversensitive and screaming his name, loves fucking you good and edging you until you're crying, creampies he'd finger back inside you while whispering the filthiest things in your ear. There are so many things that you and him have tried and have yet to try, and the thought of that excites you every single time.
You're certain Jungkook loves this as much as you do, if not, he loves it even more than you do. He is pussy-whipped for you. You can tell by the way he moans when he sinks into you, the way he messages you at the oddest hours to tell you how horny he is thinking about you, the way he usually cancels everything if you send him something provocative, and so much more.
It's just a mutual hate-addiction thing between the two of you. You hate his guts. You tell yourself that every time you come around his cock. And anyways, he's just a cocky bastard who loves to get under your skin, especially when he teases you about your 'princess' status even when he's balls deep inside you.
You want to kill him sometimes, strangle him with your bare hands, shoot him - anything.
But there's another part of you that hated those thoughts (even though you'd probably wouldn't actually kill him). Sometimes you thought to yourself; What if you don't actually hate him? "What if you and him actually got to know each other? What if there could be something more between you two?
You push the thoughts away, drinking some more wine. Jungkook's a good fuck. The best fuck. You don't need more, neither do you want more. You just need him to relieve your stress and give you pleasure. But unfortunately, tonight he isn't coming.
You walk to your bedroom, lay on your bed and stare at the ceiling, trying not to think about how empty your bed feels since Jungkook isn't in it. You try not to imagine him on top of you, pinning you down, kissing while promising to fuck you exactly how you like it...
•───୨୧───•
The next few days go by quickly. You haven't done much, since there wasn't a lot for you to do - other than a few errands your parents asked you to handle, or random outings with Megan.
It's been a bit boring, but rather peaceful and relaxing, the only thing that had been worrying you was the fact that you had no messages from Jungkook. Not a single text asking to see you, not a single picture from him, not even a single voice note. Usually he'd reach out at least once or twice a week, sometimes more if the week had been boring. But now there's been nothing but silence.
Throughout these days you've tried to convince yourself that it doesn't matter, you don't even care. He's busy, he's an asshole, maybe he's got his dick up someone else. It's fine. Good for him. It doesn't bother you. You don't need him.
Except you do need him. And that's been abundantly clear every time you touched yourself and failed to bring to yourself even a quarter of the pleasure he brings to you.
By Thursday evening you were feeling rather miserable, and to make your matters worse, your phone buzzed with a message.
Mother : Sweetheart, we have another event this Saturday. Your father insists we all attend together. Dress appropriately.
You groan loudly. Yet another night of forced smiles, politics and fake performances. You're so tired of it, you almost tell your mother that you're in no mood to attend when you remember something. Jungkook will be there, of course he will. None of the Jeons ever miss prestigious events, they show up to these things as if it's the biggest blessing.
You're itching to see Jungkook. He hasn't said anything in longer than usual, so you're very curious about his whereabouts. On Saturday night you'll corner him somewhere quiet and kick him in his groin and demand he tell you why he's been ghosting you.
•───୨୧───•
It's finally Saturday night. You're standing in front of your mirror assessing how you look. You look beautiful, wearing a long, emerald-coloured dress with the neckline dipping enough to show some cleavage and a slit that shows your thigh every time you take a step. Your hair is let down and you've touched up with just a bit of make-up. You look perfect, but inside, you're far from it – you're feeling nervous.
Once you reach the venue with your parents, you enter and take your seats. As discreet as possible, you start scanning the crowd. The Jeon table is already occupied. Mr Jeon sitting beside his wife, along with some of their other family and advisors, but no Jungkook. Your heart drops. Jungkook is always here, he'd never miss such events.
You force your gaze away and accept a glass of champagne from a passing server. Your mother says something to you, but you barely register her words, since your mind is completely elsewhere. Where the fuck is he?
You keep your eyes forward as the elderly host welcomes all the guests. For the next couple of minutes you watch as people converse with one another. Watching as you sit alone, hoping that he'll just show up soon – not because you're eager* to see him or anything! But because he really deserves to get kicked in his balls. That's all.
After a while, the doors open again. You turn your attention to the late arrivals, and there Jungkook is. Painfully looking as handsome as ever in a black tuxedo with his hair a little messy, just as you like it. His movements cause multiple heads to turn to him and look at him with either respect, admiration or envy.
But he's not alone. A woman is clinging to his arm. She's beautiful and elegant-looking wearing a silky pink gown that hugs her curves. She leans into Jungkook as they walk, her head tilted on his shoulder, and he... he's smiling at her. Smiling at her as if she's the most interesting thing in the room.
The glass of champagne freezes halfway to your lips. They walk over to the Jeon family table together. When Jungkook's mother sees them, the warmest smile spreads across her face. She stands to greet the woman, lightly kissing both her cheeks. "So lovely to see you again, darling." she says clearly enough for everyone around them to hear. The girl smiles back sweetly and lets Jungkook guide her into the seat right beside him.
A cold shiver runs down your spine. You force your gaze back to the stage to whatever the host is talking about. Your fingers tighten around your glass, you're certain it might break. A few minutes later, you glance back at Jungkook, he glances at you too, making brief eye contact before he looks away. He looks away as though so very recently, he did not fuck you so passionately, so needily.
Your blood turns to ice. Is this why he ghosted you? He found himself a real girlfriend? One who he can bring to fancy events. Someone who his mother clearly approves of. Someone who isn't a secret he has to hide. You want to walk over there, yell at him and beat the shit out of him, but how can you?
Despite all the anger you're currently feeling, buried deep beneath, something you don't want to acknowledge is that you may be hurt. But of course, you tell yourself that you don't care who else he fucks, who he dates because you hate him. And right now you hate him more than ever.
You don't look at him again, you keep your eyes anywhere but him. Though many times, you've gotten the feeling of him looking at you.
You look completely unbothered, but mentally you're cursing him. Piece of shit. How dare he?
The event isn't even halfway done when you watch movement in your peripheral vision. Jungkook and the girl are standing. He murmurs something to his mother before offering the woman his arm again, she takes it with a smile. He walks her toward the exit with his hand on her lower back as she continues clinging to him.
You endure the rest of the event with your parents, until it's time to go home.
•───୨୧───•
The days after the event were unbearable for you, and unfortunately for everyone around you as well. You were being rather bitchy to your assistants, your mother and anyone else really. Everyone has been getting the worst of your mood swings.
One of the days, you had printed a booklet filled with pictures of Jungkook's face so you could use them on dummies at your family's private shooting range to practise your headshots. And not so surprisingly, you had blown the heads off of all the dummies. At a sparring session, you had taped one of the pictures to the punching bag and beat it up, vividly imagining that it actually was Jungkook
A few nights after that, as if he was trying to get under your skin, he had the audacity to message you.
Jungkook : you up? Can I come over.
The audacity that this man has astounds you. You type messages swearing at him before deleting them, deciding to be mature and block him instead.
the following evening you sit at your desk and decide to pour your rage into pages. You describe your male as very similar to Jungkook (which you often do) and describe the female lead as similar to you. In your little story, the female lead becomes aggravated with the male and ends up trying to physically harm him.
Somehow, things end up becoming even more tense between them and they share the most heated kiss, until things elevate. You write the scene until it starts to read like something too close to reality. Something too close to what you and Jungkook would end up doing.
You slam your laptop shut, telling yourself that none of those stories you've written are about him. None of the stories you've written in there are anything about the experiences you've had with him. You'd never write about him. You love to write whereas you have nothing but hate for Jungkook. It would be too ironic.
୨୧
On Saturday evening, you're still feeling quite awful. You need something urgently, something to make you feel good. You reach in your freezer for some soju, just to help quiet the noise in your head. You're about to open the bottle when you hear a sound upstairs, the sound of your window opening followed by steps.
Your heart skips a beat. Nobody gets past your security, absolutely nobody.
Quietly you take one of the knives from your kitchen drawer. Your parents have made you train how to fight, you know how to use weapons, so you know exactly how to draw blood without killing.
You walk up the stairs to your bedroom. The bedroom door is cracked open; you push it open with your shoulder whilst keeping your knife raised. A hooded figure is stepping in, a figure you recognise immediately despite the darkness. Once he's properly inside, he gently closes the window.
Without hesitation, you close the distance, hook your arm around his throat from behind and yank him backwards and hold the knife firmly to his throat.
"Don't move." you warn him.
He freezes before pulling his hood down.
"Hey hey, it's me." he says quickly with his hands up. "It's just me, princess. Put the knife down."
You stare at the side of his face, remembering how he brought another woman to the event, yet still has the guts to show up here as if you're just going to allow it. Your grip on the knife doesn't loosen, instead you press it harder against his skin.
Jungkook's breath hitches and his eyebrows knit together, his confusion turning more cautious.
"Baby... what are you doing? It's me." he whispers.
You lean in closer so your lips brush his ear.
"What the hell are you doing breaking into my house?" you ask. "You think you can just come here after ghosting me?"
Jungkook swallows. "I just came to see you. I've been calling and texting, you haven't picked up once. I thought something was wrong."
You huff out a bitter laugh. "Something wrong? Yeah. You. You're what's fucking wrong, Jeon."
He blinks once, confusion mixing with his fear. He's scared, not necessarily scared of the knife being pressed to his throat (he's been threatened with worse), he's scared of you, like this.
"You blocked me?" he asks.
"Yes, I did."
He exhales through his nose. "Then why the fuck are you acting like i ghosted you on purpose? I've been-"
"Shut up." You press the knife even harder, until a thin red line appears on his skin "You're stupid for coming here. I don't want to see you. I could kill you right now and nobody would know."
His adam's apple bobs. And then faster than you can process, he twists. His forearm knocks the knife out of your hand while the other grabs your wrist tightly, causing the knife to clatter on the floor. You don't even have time to gasp when he spins you and slams you back against the wall, pinning both your hands on top of your head, using one of his hands.
He uses his body to keep you in place, his chest pressing against yours, his hips flush against yours, his thigh slotting between yours. Your breath hitches when his free hand comes up to cradle the side of your face, a bit roughly.
"Gotcha." he teases
Your heart's racing so fast, you're almost sure he can feel it.
Fuck, you love this. You hate that you do. You love the way he manhandles you, so rough and possessive, all dominating. Your body reacts before your brain can catch up, your nipples harden and you feel that little flutter in your lower belly. But even despite your growing arousal, you're still so fucking angry.
He leans in slowly, his nose brushing the side of your neck. Earlier on you had the longest bath, shaved, used the sweetest smelling soap and applied your favourite moisturizer. You've done that for yourself, to feel good. You surely did not expect Jungkook to be here inhaling your smell as if you're a drug. He exhales shakily, letting out a soft groan.
"Fuck," he curses against your throat. "You smell so good."
His kisses on your neck start off soft, then they become open-mouthed, his tongue flicking out to taste you. You gasp when he starts biting you. He goes further up to suck just below your ear, hard enough to leave a mark.
"What's wrong, princess?" he asks roughly. "You're angry. Talk to me."
You keep quiet, not wanting to answer him. He pulls back to look at you, his eyes searching yours.
"Baby..."
"Don't call me that."
He exhales through his nose again, sounding a bit frustrated. He kisses your neck again while rolling his hips against you, grinding his hardness against you causing you let out an involuntary high moan.. Jungkook pulls back to look at you again.
"Tell me what I did."
You say nothing, he waits for your answer that is not coming anytime soon. You just stare up at him. He sighs before dropping his forehead to yours.
Soft and almost pleading, he asks; "What's wrong? Why are you being like this?"
Hearing him ask what's wrong, as if he's not the source of your anger further enrages you. You're not sure what comes over you, but you do what you've been meaning to do – you knee him square in the balls.
He groans and sucks in a sharp breath, followed by a few curses. He stumbles to the side, one of his hands going down to cup himself as the other hand braces on the wall. The pain he feels is strong, but it's not excruciating. It was your intention just to hurt him a little, not to break your favourite part of him.
After the pain seems to fade, he straightens with his jaw clenched. You don't wait to see how he recovers, instead you walk towards the bedroom door, eager to get away from him. If he values his life, he better get out the same way he came in.
You make it about three steps to the door when suddenly strong arms are being wrapped around your waist, lifting you off your feet. You squeal, shocked and furious.
"Jungkook! Put me the fuck down!"
He does not listen to you, instead he carries you over to your bed and drops you face down on it. Before you can get up to swing at him, he delivers a very hard smack to your ass. Involuntarily you let out a high pitched gasp, jerking forward a bit.
The delicious sting of his smack goes straight between your legs. Fuck. You hate how your body betrays every single time. You're a sucker for his hands on you, you've always been one. You love his touches - whether they're rough or gentle, punishing you or praising you. The second Jungkook touches you, your brain short circuits and you get rather excited*
He leans over you, so his chest is pressed against your back. One knee is between your thighs to keep you spread open. He delivers another smack to your ass, this time it's even harder. You fail to hold back the moan that makes its way from your throat, it's so needy that you want to punch yourself.
"There she is." he murmurs against your ear lowly. "My princess making those pretty sounds for me."
"Fuck off." you try to say, as petty as possible. Though, it just comes out breathless.
He chuckles at that, rubbing your ass cheek softly, soothing the skin through your thin, silky shorts. His hand goes down to caress you where your thigh meets your ass cheek. He bends to press a soft, open-mouthed kiss there then a lot more.
You squeeze your eyes shut. How the hell can he do this? How can he climb through your window, man handle you, spank you and kiss you so intimately after everything?
You hate him so much right, yet you've missed him too. You've spent nights alone, dreaming of him being here, doing exactly what he's doing now. But now he's here, aching to please you and all you want to do is dig his eyes out. Jungkook shifts a bit, pressing his hips forward so you can feel exactly how hard he is.
"Been thinking about this pretty pussy nonstop. You gonna make it better, baby? Or you gonna keep being a brat and making me beg?"
You bite your bottom lip, wanting to do both of those options. But you're still feeling petty so you keep quiet instead, not giving him any answer.
He lets out a long, frustrated exhale. "You're really gonna do this tonight."
Again, you don't answer.
"Do you want me gone?"
"Yes."
He stops for a few seconds, breathing in and out, his cock throbbing against your ass. Eventually, he sighs deeply and pushes off you. The sudden absence of his weight on you feels awful. You didn't think that he'd actually get off.
"Fine," he says softly. "If that's what you want."
He stands, adjusts himself and turns to your room window, walking toward it. Once you hear him opening it, panic claws its way up your throat. You roll over fast.
"Jungkook. Wait "
For a while, he stands there for a moment, with his back turned to you. Slowly, he turns back to face you, his eyes meeting yours, you notice that he looks a little hurt.
"I'm not gonna force you. If you want me gone, I'll go."
You stare up at him with your chest tight. You want him to stay, you need him to stay, and you hate the fact that you do.
"Don't go." you whisper.
Jungkook sighs, walking back over to you. You're looking up at him with the prettiest expression he's ever seen. Your eyes are a little glassy, your lips slightly parted. The look undoes him, makes him weak, so fucking weak. He's faced dangerous men who've had loaded guns pressed to his forehead, and even then he'd been okay. But with you - you unravel him in ways he never thought were possible.
He stops right in front you. He reaches out, his knuckles grazing your jaw. His hand opens to cup the side of your face as his thumb caresses your bottom lip. Your breath hitches, he uses the opportunity to press the tip of his thumb inside your mouth. Your lips close around it gently first before you start sucking and twirling your tongue around it while maintaining eye contact with him.
Jungkook swallows hard, his other hand balling into a fist at his side as if he's trying to hold himself back from grabbing your hair and yanking you down to suck onto something else.
"What's the matter, baby?" he asks rough, yet tenderly. "You've been so mad ever since I came."
He pulls his thumb free with a wet pop, brings it to his own mouth and licks your spit off it with his eyes locked onto yours. You stare back at him, your mouth opening and then closing, still holding back your answer.
Jungkook sighs again softly before leaning down close. So close that his nose brushes yours.
"Can I kiss you?" he asks.
You give him a confused, almost amused look. How dare he act polite now after spanking your ass the way he did?
Your lips pout just a little - enough for him to understand what you're saying. He grins, closing the distance. The kiss starts off gentle and soft. But you're not in the mood for his gentleness or softness. Your hands fly up to his hoodie, bringing him closer to insert your tongue into his mouth whilst kissing him harder.
He lets you dominate for a few seconds until he takes control as usual. His hand makes its way to the back of your neck, threading into your hair to tilt your head exactly where he wants it. His other hand goes to your waist, pulling you flush against him. He kisses you like he's trying to suffocate you, it's filthy and possessive. His tongue thrusts into your mouth making you whimper into his mouth. He sucks onto your bottom lip, nips on it then soothes it with his tongue
You try to fight for dominance – pushing against his chest, trying to change the angle, trying to get control. Jungkook just tightens his grip, growls low in throat and keeps dominating you. Until the memory of him walking into that event with that woman on his side, smiling with her, being glued to her, his mother beaming at her as if she's her future daughter-in-law - the memory hits you, ugly and unwelcomed. You bite down hard on Jungkook's lip.
He winces and breaks the kiss with a hiss, a little bit of blood blooms on lip. He looks at you with something dark and wild in his eyes, before suddenly placing his hands on your hips and flipping you onto all fours with effortless strength. You squeal, surprised. Before you can snap at him, his fingers find the waistbands of your shorts and your underwear underneath and pulls them down.
They pool at your knees, so now you're presented to him with your bare ass up, back arched and pussy glistening. He groans before leaning down to sink his teeth into one of your ass cheeks, biting on it as revenge.
You gasp and moan loudly at the same time. "Jungkook-"
He soothes the mark almost immediately, kissing his bite mark softly.
"Payback." he says against your skin.
He leans down lower, spreading you wider with his hands before latching his mouth on you. He doesn't start off slow, he licks you from your entrance to your clit greedily. You cry out loudly, your hips bucking back against his face.
He groans into you as if you're the best thing he's ever eaten. Because you are. He missed this – he missed you. Missed the way you taste, missed the way you get so wet for him, missed the you sound. He eats you out like he's starving. His lips latch onto your clit, sucking softly then becoming harder, thrusting his tongue into your entrance, while his tongue nudges your clit every time.
You're loud, you're always extremely loud. Moans escaping you loud and needy. "Jungkook- fuck. Right there, don't stop."
He hums against you, the vibrations turning you on even more. His hand grips your thigh tightly, holding you in place to prevent you from moving an inch from his mouth. After a very few minutes, you're shaking, moaning even louder.
"Jungkook- I'm- ah."
Jungkook always knows when you're close. He doubles his efforts, sucking and tongue fucking you even harder until you're releasing while moaning his name. He doesn't stop. He keeps licking you up slowly until you're whimpering softly. He pulls back to breathe, before leaving a few pecks on your swollen and sensitive pussy
He straightens and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. You turn over so you can watch him. He reaches behind his neck to pull his hoodie over his head, his shirt follows afterwards.
You missed this sight more than you'd ever admit. The sight of Jeon Jungkook standing near your bed shirtless, flushed, looking so lustful. He's definitely the most attractive man you've ever seen – handsome, tall, muscular, tatted. You can't look away from him.
He catches you staring, his eyes darken and he gives you a small smirk. His hands move to his belt so that he can unbuckle it and put it aside. He pulls down the zip on his pants and pulls his pants down, along with his boxers. His cock springs free, hard, thick and leaking at the tip.
You get off the bed, getting to your knees. Your mouth waters and your pussy clenches at the thought of having him in your mouth as soon as possible. At this moment all you think of is how you're about to give him the best head. You're concerning yourself with the event, with the other woman, nothing.
You wrap your hand around his thick cock and guide the tip to your mouth. Your tongue swirls around it, licking and swallowing the precum. Jungkook hisses through his teeth. One of his hands finds the back of your head - not controlling your movements, just holding instead.
"Ah fuck, good girl..." he breathes.
You hum around him, content at the praise. You know he likes it so you take him deeper and hollow your cheeks as you suck on him. You've given him head countless times so over time you've learnt how to give him the most enjoyable time.
You're pleasuring him exactly the way he likes – deep throating with saliva dripping down your chin. Jungkook's hips start jerking, chasing your mouth as you start bobbing your head.
"Just like that." he groans.
His free hand finds yours near his thigh and he intertwines them together.
"You're taking me so well, princess."
You moan around him, high and needy. Again, loving his praise. You pick up the pace, going faster until wet, slurping sounds fill the room. Saliva drips down your chin onto your chest, but you don't stop, you suck him deeper until your eyes water. Jungkook's losing it. His hand grips your hair tightly now as he thrusts into your mouth as gently as he possibly can.
"Gonna come-" he pants. "You want it down your throat?"
You answer by twirling your tongue around him, trying to take him impossibly deeper. He groans as he comes hard, down your throat. You swallow it as your head still bobs slowly. Jungkook curses under his breath.
When he finally stops pulsing, you pull off slowly until the tip is out your mouth with a string of saliva still connecting your mouth to him. You look up at through your slightly wet lashes, he stares down at you with an unreadable look.
You stand up slowly and sit back on the bed, propping yourself on your elbows. Jungkook stands there frozen for a few moments. Fuck, you're gorgeous. Eyes watery, chin wet, hair messy. He wants to tell you, wants to drop to his knees and tell you that you're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen, that just looking at you makes his heart flutter, that he'd climb through your window every night if he could, just to see you for five minutes.
But the small ache that's still there in balls reminds him that you'd probably knee him again if he tried to be soft with you. So he doesn't speak, he just climbs onto the bed, hovering over you. He kisses you filthy and hungry. Your tongues slide together, tasting each other. Both of you moan and groan into each other's mouths animalistically.
It's one of your nastiest make-out sessions yet - teeth clashing, tongues colliding. He sucks onto your tongue, pulls it between his lips and thrusts his tongue into your mouth. He grinds against you causing his cock to slide against your inner thigh.
You arched up into him, nails digging into his shoulders, trying to pull him closer. He breaks the kiss to lift your camisole top up so it bunches at your arms. He doesn't pull it completely off yet, he just leans down and licks between your cleavage. He comes back to lick one of your nipples, sucking it into his mouth.
You gasp, back arching off the bed and fingers flying to his hair. He groans around your nipple before switching to your other breast. He sucks and bites on it, making sure to leave his marks on you. As he sucks on the one, he palms the other, squeezing while using his thumb to play with your nipple.
"Gonna fuck you so good tonight." he mumbles roughly. "Gonna ruin this pretty pussy so every time you walk you'll remember I was here, so you remember that you're all mine."
You love this side of him. You love how possessive he sounds over you, how he praises you, but the words do not sit right with you tonight. 'Mine.' When he walked into that event with someone else by his side. The anger suddenly surges back, but you don't say or do anything yet. You know how you're going to torment him and you're about to enjoy it more than anything.
Jungkook pulls your camisole off completely, tosses it somewhere then gets his pants and boxers off. He's completely naked now. He settles between your thighs while he keeps kissing you wherever he can reach – on your throat, your collarbone and between your breasts.
One of his hands reaches down to wrap around his length, guiding himself to your entrance. He nudges the tip through your folds, teasing the both of you and he smears his precum with your wetness until you're both softly groaning. He looks down at you, his eyes dark and wild and lustful.
"You want me, baby?" he asks, his voice rough and heavy with restraint.
You stare up at him, your nails now digging into his shoulders a bit angrily. Instead of answering him, you lift your hips, trying to slide yourself down onto him, taking him slowly. Jungkook curses and pushes in the rest of the way, stretching you open until he's buried all the way.
You both freeze for a second, breathing in each other's air. After a short while, Jungkook starts to move into you. His hands find yours and he intertwines them above your head. He pulls out then sinks in even deeper with a loud groan.
"Fuck." his forehead drops down onto yours and his eyes flutter shut. "This is the best feeling in the world. Nothing comes close to this.
He truly means it. To him there's nothing better than being buried inside you and feeling you wrap around him. It's addictive to him, he could spend the rest of his life buried in your pussy and be the happiest man on Earth.
You're soaking wet, allowing him to thrust into you with ease. He moves slowly at first, pulling out and pushing back in, until he goes deeper and harder. Fucking you in the way that drives you insane for him.
By now you're moaning, unfiltered and needy. Your nails rake down his back, hard enough to leave your marks on him. Your legs wrap around his waist, heels digging into his lower back to pull him deeper.
Jungkook loves how you get when he fucks you. He loves how needy you get, how pretty you sound. He doesn't know why it gets him so hard and turned on, why hearing you fall apart because of him makes him feel so possessive over you. Jungkook wishes he could experience this feeling forever. Just you and him, being so intimate and desperate for each other.
"Listen to you." he groans against your ear, fucking you harder now. "So loud for me. Taking me so well."
You're enjoying this way too much. Jungkook is being so perfect tonight. He's rough and praising – just the way you love him. You can feel him everywhere, on top of you, inside of you, surrounding you.
This has to be one of the best fucks you and him have ever had. Maybe it's because you're angry at him, and maybe it's because you felt something you'd hate to admit when you saw him with that woman. Maybe those are reasons why you're enjoying it so much, it's because a part of you is glad that he's here, pleasuring you.
But even as you melt under him and the pleasure builds, your mind still wanders off to places you wish it wouldn't. What if he fucks that woman like this? What if he whispers the same filthy praises in her ears? What if he tells her that being inside of her is the best thing ever?
Your nails grip into his back harder, with a small intention to hurt him. To make your marks on him even more visible and obvious. Jungkook hisses, both in pain and pleasure. His pace increases as if you marking him turns him on more.
"Fuck, mark me up, baby." he pants. "Let everyone know who I belong to."
You almost let out a bitter laugh, because it sounds so ironic. Purposely, you clench around him hard, pussy fluttering tightly around his cock causing Jungkook's perfect rhythm to stutter. A moan escapes Jungkook and his hips jerk forward.
"Fuck – don't - don't do that–"
He loves when you do that, when you squeeze tightly, clenching around his cock, trapping him inside you. But on the downside, it makes him come way too fast – embarrassingly fast. Every time you do it, he begs you to stop. His hips thrust forward as he pant.
"Baby stop. I'm gonna – "
You do not stop, instead you clench and unclench around him until he's groaning loudly and releasing into you. He buries his face in your neck, hips bucking as he comes with a curse.
When it's over he stays there breathing hard with his hands still laced with yours. The bliss for him does not last. He lifts his head slowly and looks at you, realising that he hasn't made you come. You're just looking at him with something mean in your eyes. Jungkook's eyebrows knit together.
He does not like this. He never ever likes coming before you. It feels wrong, like he failed you somehow. He always wants you to come first, or at least to come with him. That's how it should be. Your pleasure before his own. Your pleasure is his priority.
He pulls out slowly and braces himself on his forearms above your head. "Baby..." you notice he sounds quite pissed off. "What the fuck was that?"
You blink up at him, looking like the picture of innocence. "Hmm?" you hum sweetly. "What was what?"
Jungkook stares down at you. He opens his mouth, wanting to say something. He wants to question you, wants to accuse you. He wants to ask what the hell is going on in that head of yours? Why are you doing this? He swallows his questions and leans in slowly to kiss the corner of your mouth before pulling back to look at you.
You stare at him, he's all flushed with his hair messy. You can't help but think that he looks cute like this. Way too cute for someone who can kill with his bare hands. Your heart does something stupid and infuriating. You hate him for making you feel this way.
He reaches down, grabs his discarded shirt and uses it to wipe between your thighs where his release still spills out. He tosses the shirt somewhere and lines himself at your entrance again.
You're still wet, but still, he pushes in slowly until he's deep inside. You both exhale. He stays still for a second, feeling how you're still lightly fluttering around him. He starts to move through your tight walls against your sensitive spots that he knows so well. He knows your body better than his own, so he definitely knows how to give you a good time.
You moan right against his ear and he groans lowly in response. He buries his face in your neck and starts kissing you there, open-mouthed and hungrily. You tug his hair, pulling him closer, motivating him to pick up the pace. Your breasts bounce with every one of his thrusts and Jungkook cannot stop staring at you.
"You're so pretty when you're getting fucked." he rasps.
He hooks his hands under your knees and brings your legs up over his shoulders. The new angle allows him to sink in even deeper. Your eyes flutter shut at the perplexing feeling.
Minutes pass, sweat forms on Jungkook's temple, dropping down to his jaw, making him look even hotter. His stamina is insane, he could usually go on for hours. His focus right now is on making you come all for him.
He's been very needy as of recently, since he hasn't been sexually active in a very long time, so when he feels his own pleasure building in his lower belly and his thighs starting to shake, he's not surprised.
He can feel that you're close as well, your pussy starts fluttering around him. You're so close. He brings your legs down and hooks them around his waist so he can hover over you with his forearms braced on either side of your head. He's close enough to you that you both breathe in each other's breaths. He kisses your jaw, the corner of your mouth and you cheek bone before leaning to your ear to speak roughly.
"I'm close, baby. Come with me." he whispers. "Please – wanna feel you come on my dick. Wanna come together."
Your pussy flutters around him greedily and he groans. "Fuck, yeah–"
You're milking him hard, making his head spin. He cannot hold himself, he comes hard, burying himself inside you with a moan, his hips jerking through it. He waits, waiting to feel your walls seize him deep and gush around him. But there's nothing, absolutely nothing. You're panting and breathing heavily but you haven't released.
Jungkook processes it for a few seconds, then slowly, he pulls out. His cock is still hard, but softens now that the pleasure is being replaced by something else entirely. He braces himself on his forearm, hovering over you.
He asks, low and quite annoyed, "Are you doing this on purpose?"
Again, you look up at him innocently. "Doing that?" you tilt your head at him, faking confusion. "I don't know what you're talking about."
Jungkook clenches his jaw. He exhales through his nose, frustrated. "You know exactly what I'm talking about. You're not coming. You're holding it back just to fuck with me."
You let out a small scoff. "Maybe you're just not doing a good enough job."
The words hit Jungkook right where it hurts the most. He freezes for a few seconds. Then his eyes darken, his fingers grip the sheet as if he's trying to hold himself back. What you just told him is the worst thing you could've ever told him, it bruises him like nothing else. You've told him that he isn't good enough for you, that he could not satisfy you.
He growls low, "You fucking brat."
He roughly flips you over so you're on your stomach. You gasp and barely have time to brace yourself before he yanks you up, so you're on fours in front of him. Your face is pressed into the sheets and your ass in the air. His slaps your ass cheek hard, so hard that the sound echoes in your massive room. You yelp and moan, jerking forward.
His hand wraps around throat, tilting your head back so you're arching. He pulls you up until your back is against his chest and your head resting on his shoulder. His warm breath fans your ear. His other hand goes down to deliver a smack directly to your clit. You cry out shamelessly, pain and pleasure shooting through you.
"Stop your fucking shit." he growls against your ear. "Right now."
You laugh breathlessly, your head lolling against his shoulder. "Why? What are you gonna do about it, Jeon?"
His grip on your throat tightens slightly and his teeth graze your earlobe. "I'm gonna fuck that attitude out of you."
His hand between your thighs moves up higher, he slides two fingers through your folds, circling your clit. You whimper, melting into his touch even as you try to stay defiant.
"You think I don't know what you're doing?" he murmurs. "You think I don't know how you're trying to make me mad?"
His fingers press against your clit harder as he kisses your neck, sucking onto the marks he's left. He inserts his fingers inside you again, curling them deep. He finger-fucks you until you're panting and moaning again.
He carries on until he knows you're about to release, but still, you don't. You refuse to give him what he so desperately wants, you continue denying yourself just to spite him. You're still winning whatever fucked up game this is.
Jungkook pulls his fingers out abruptly and uses his hand to deliver another smack to clit before cupping it, feeling you throb against him. He tries to catch his breath, he's fuming at this point. What kind of torture is this?
But Jungkook being Jungkook, is not going to give up. He lines himself at your entrance again and sinks into you in a hard thrust. You moan, nails digging into his arm where it holds you across your stomach. Again, he starts fucking you, but harder and deeper now, keeping one arm securely around your waist and the other loosely around your neck.
You're so loud, whimpering and moaning softly – those sweet sounds he lives for. He goes on for long until he can feel the pleasure building for himself, warning him that he was going to come yet again but he can still feel you holding back.
He stops moving, his hips thrust forward one last time and he stays buried deep inside you. He lets out a frustrated groan as his forehead drops to your shoulder, both his hands moving to your hips now.
"What is your fucking problem?" he asks furiously, almost pleading.
For a moment, you say nothing. Then you finally let it out. "I can't stand you." you say, your own voice furious. It kind of sounds like you're at the verge of crying. "You're so stupid, Jungkook. So fucking blind. How can you be here, fucking me, when you brought someone along with you to the event? Let your mom beam at her, like she's something important to you–"
Jungkook freezes, although his grip on your waist tightens as he processes your little outburst. After a few seconds, he huffs out a laugh against your neck.
"Is this funny to you!?" you hiss, yanking forward trying to pull away from him.
His cock almost slips out of you, but you don't make it away because he pulls you back against him so roughly, your ass recoils against his hips. You hate yourself for the pure moan that spills out of you.
Jungkook's lips brush your ear as he speaks, "You're jealous." he says, smug and delighted.
"I'm not jealous." you spit, rageful. "I hate you. I hate that you think you just parade with someone else, then climb through my window like I'm yours to fuck whenever you want me."
"Oh, princess." he pulls out and thrusts inside you. "You are still mine. And yeah, I brought someone else to the event. She's just a family friend. An old arrangement my mom's been pushing for years. She doesn't mean shit. I don't want her, baby."
"Bullshit."
He presses a soft, tender kiss to the side of your neck. "You think I'd risk everything, my reputation, my life – just to be someone who isn't you?" his tone turns serious, losing the smugness. "You're the only person I want."
You're speechless, not believing what you just heard. But of course, you're not going to admit how happy his words have made you, so instead you clench around his cock hard. He winces and his hips jerk forward.
"Fuck." he grunts, letting out a ragged breath.
He sucks another mark onto your neck while rolling his hips into you.
"You think I look at anyone else the way I look at you?"
He thrusts into you deeply again, making you moan and arch your back.
"You're the only one," he growls, leaning down to nip at your earlobe. "The only one who makes me this stupid, this weak. This fucking desperate."
He punctuates each sent with a thrust before sticking to the perfect rhythm that has you moaning his name. He removes the hand from your throat and brings it down to your breasts to knead them.
"Look at these tits. So fucking perfect." he groans. "You know how many times I jerked off thinking about them?"
He pinches one of your nipples, making you whimper before he soothes it.
"You're so tight," he continues, his hips carry on thrusting in and out of you. "So wet, so fucking greedy. No one else feels like this."
He sucks more marks onto your neck while his hand goes down to rub your clit, causing you to cry out his name.
"Jungkook–ah"
Fuck. He wants those sounds in his mouth, he wants to swallow it, he wants to taste you. He grabs your face with his other hand, turning it to give you a messy kiss. He pushes his tongue inside your mouth,exploring and swallowing your pretty sounds.
Jungkook doesn't even understand what he wants anymore. All he knows is that he wants all of you. He never wants to ever pull out, he just wants to spend the rest of his life buried deep inside of you. His thrusts become even more relentless. He pulls out almost all the way before slamming back in. He puts a hand on your hip, pulling you against him to meet his thrust.
You're fluttering around him wildly, more than usual. Your breathless words become incoherent now, making Jungkook dizzy.
"Come on, baby." he growls against your mouth. "Come for me. I need to feel you."
You shamelessly scream his name as you gush around him. Warm liquid drips down his cock, soaking his thighs and sheets. Jungkook's eyes open wide as he feels the sensation, the wetness drenches him from the base to the tip. His thrusts stutter as he continues slamming into you
"Oh fuck–"
Jungkook is gone. He must be in paradise.
He releases, burying himself as deep as possible, coming into you while panting. He carries on going while you tremble and whimper beneath him.
When it finally ends, he collapses over you, his forehead on your back. He stays inside of you, not being able to out since you're still fluttering around him.
Jungkook is astounded. After a moment, he finally speaks. "Fuck... you just squirted all over me."
You immediately stiffen, feeling a sudden sense of embarrassment. You try to squirm away, but he tightens his hold on you, staying inside of you. You bury your face into your pillow and let out a mortified groan. Jungkook softly kisses your shoulder and then your neck.
"That was the hottest fucking thing ever." he rasps against you. "I'm gonna make you do it again and again."
You whimper, wanting to protest, but deciding against it, because you know that once Jungkook wants something, he's determined to get it. Especially if it revolves around you.
•───୨୧───•
Minutes later, the room is quiet. Jungkook lay on his back, an arm over his eyes, the other resting on his stomach. The sheets are damp beneath him, but it doesn't bother him. He stares at the ceiling, thinking.
He turns his head to look at you. You're laying on your side, facing away from him with a blanket covering half your naked body. Jungkook looks at you in pure admiration and desire. He could go again right now. Slide inside you from the back and go for another round or two, but he decides not to – he's a bit tired and you must be even more.
The distance between the two of you feels wrong, he wants your bodies to be touching, he wants contact with you. He shifts over, closing the gap until your back is pressed against his chest. He puts his arm over your waist, bringing you closer to him. You let him pull you close until your ass is nestled perfectly in between his thighs. He buries his face in your neck, inhaling your scent – you smell like your sweet body wash, sweat, sex and mostly him. He kisses your neck a few times.
"Why're you so away from me?" he asks, against you.
You sigh. "I feel gross." you admit.
"I don't." he kisses under your jaw softly. "I feel incredible."
He caresses your stomach soothingly. "But I do think you should pee. And we should shower."
"Yeah..." you say.
He kisses your shoulder one more time before standing up. "Come on." he lets out his hand for you to take.
You take his hand, letting him pull you up. Your legs are wobbly so he steadies you by holding you and guiding you to the bathroom. Once in the bathroom, Jungkook opens the taps, making sure that the temperature is perfect for you, while you pee.
After you're done, you step past him and into the shower. He follows after you. The hot water cascades over you, it feels absolutely amazing. Jungkook squeezes some of your body wash into his hands, planning to wash you. But you shrug him off, not wanting him to touch you.
His hands fall away. He takes a moment to look at you. You look really tense as if something is wrong. As much as he wants to, he doesn't try to get you to tell him. He just stands under the shower next to you and washes himself as well.
Once you're both done, you turn off the tap. Jungkook grabs a towel and wraps it around you. He then gets two more, one to wrap around hips and the other for your wet hair.
"Thanks." you tell him
He nods before following you out the bathroom and back to your bedroom. The sheets are a disaster so he takes them off, dumps them into the laundry basket and puts new ones on the bed.
Jungkook glances at you every now and then, watching as you dry your hair with a stoic expression. He finds his discarded boxers and puts them on before getting into bed with a tired sigh.
He watches you pull over a silky, short sleep dress and tie up your hair. You look like something out of a fever dream. A little ruined, his marks all over you, limping a little. You're so beautiful.
You get into the bed next to him, laying on your side, facing him now. None of you speak, you just stare into each other's eyes.
After a while you speak. "When did you start being so... affectionate?"
He raises an eyebrow at you, amused.
"Most of the time you just fuck me and leave, or I leave. You don't stay, hold me or do any of this."
Jungkook gives you a small smirk and moves closer to you, putting an arm around your waist to pull you against him so that there's absolutely no space between you. He dips his head to peck your lips then looks at you again.
"I feel bad.. For making you think that there was someone else."
You snort softly in disbelief.
"Although," he smirks. "You being jealous was so adorable."
You smack his chest. "I was not."
He hums sceptically. "Sure you weren't."
"I was not."
"Uh huh."
You glare at him, half-heartedly. He tightens his hold on you, pulling you even closer to make you snuggle against him.
"Goodnight, baby."
"Goodnight, Jungkook."
୨୧
The next evening comes quickly. Jungkook snuck out of your room early in the morning, making sure that nobody had seen him. Before leaving, he cradled your face in his hands and kissed you deep and desperately, asking you to unblock him and text him when you can. After he left, you felt a great sense of relief, but also missed him.
The rest of the day went by sprightly. You made yourself a delicious breakfast, you wrote and took a heavenly bath. Around six, your mother texted you, telling you to come by for dinner and to dress elegantly. You chose a beautiful outfit and got ready.
Soon, you're arriving at your family's estate, walking inside your childhood home to the dining room. When your mother sees you, she stands up and walks over to you.
"Sweetheart, there you are." she kisses your cheek before leading you to the table.
Your eyes wander over the scene before you. Your father sits at the table, across Mr Kim* and Mrs Kim, both of them looking sophisticated as always. And beside the, Sits a guy around your age.
He's tall, handsome, almost bewitching, you find yourself staring at him for a few seconds too long. You vaguely recognise him. He's Taehyung, heir of the Kims.
Your mother squeezes your waist gently and a little too enthusiastically. "Y/N, you remember the Kims?"
You nod politely, faking a smile.
"This," your mother says excitedly, "is their son, Taehyung. Taehyung, this is our daughter."
Taehyung stands. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you properly." he says, sounding rather amused.
"Likewise."
Your mother beams, looking between the two of you. "Why don't you sit, darling? Dinner's almost ready."
You nod and walk over to the table, taking a seat. Taehyung slides into the chair next to you and you catch the scent of his cologne, it's almost identical to Jungkook's, though you find Jungkook's much more preferable.
Your father clears his throat before raising his glass to make a toast. "To family and legacy."
Everyone raises their glasses and clinks together. Your mother waits until the clink fades, before she speaks.
"Sweetheart... we wanted to tell you this in person."
You stare at your mother with a poker face, though your awful suspicion grows. You want to throw up when your mother actually confirms your fear.
"Taehyung is your fiancé."
hii pookies, i worked so so so hard on this! i hope you guys enjoyed it🩷if you're interested, you can find part two on my patreon. either as a normal product — Best mistake 02 or on my membership tier — rkive (comes with other benefits, i will be posting everything on here first, along with extras in the future. feel free to check it out). also, ios users please try purchasing via the web to avoid paying extra fees. and once again, if you guys do support me, please know that i sincerely appreciate you <3
warnings – y/n's kinda emotional, mentions of period sex, possessive and kinda crazy jk, multiple rounds, multiple orgasms, mentions of oral, fingering, praising, jk makes out with her pussy, deep and rough sex, boob sucking, explicit language, i cannot mention a few things as it will spoil the story lol, but there's drama and a lot of cracking, etc...
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Summary: “Jungkook’s new camera was meant for photos but you became the muse he couldn’t stop worshipping, teasing, and loving. That turned into soft steamy love making.”
Warning: Explicit sexual content, oral and penetrative sex, teasing, light spanking, soft yandere/possessive behavior, strong sexual themes, lots of giggles, and a very whipped Jungkook.
The knock on your bedroom door wasn’t exactly polite it was a quick tap-tap-tap followed by Jungkook’s voice, muffled but still eager.
“Love, come on. Let me see.”
You sighed, smoothing the straps of the light green dress that barely counted as clothing. It was sheer, softer than mist, and every time you looked down you could see the pale outline of your white lace bra and panties underneath. Cute. Girly. The exact type of thing that made your boyfriend turn pink to his ears.
When you opened the door, Jungkook almost dropped his camera.
“Holy—” He coughed, biting down on his lip piercing as if that would stop the way his jaw went slack. His big hand went automatically to the strap of his camera, like he needed the excuse to look at you without combusting.
You giggled. “You look so serious. I thought this was supposed to be fun, not my funeral.”
“It’s not—” He shook his head, cheeks tinting fast. “You’re just… wow. I didn’t think it would look like that.”
“Like what?” you teased, twirling once so the hem fluttered around your thighs.
He swallowed audibly. “Like I should thank the universe every day you agreed to date me.”
Your chest squeezed at the words — sweet, unfiltered, the exact way he always made you feel. This boy with his camera and his shy smiles, who called the damn camera his new girlfriend until you threatened to snatch it from his hands.
Jungkook stepped closer, raising the Canon to his face. The lens clicked once, twice, the sound sharp in the quiet room.
“Don’t laugh,” he muttered.
You pressed your lips together, trying to behave, but the way he furrowed his brows so serious, like he was documenting a Pulitzer-winning moment made you burst into giggles anyway.
Click.
He lowered the camera, eyes shining. “You’re going to be the death of me.”
“And you’re going to kill me with that stare,” you shot back, flopping onto the bed dramatically. The green fabric rode up, and you didn’t miss the way his gaze darted down, then immediately up again like he hadn’t been caught.
Shy Jungkook was your favorite Jungkook. The one who kissed your knuckles before holding your hand. The one who pretended to be confident but got flustered at the smallest things. The one who looked at you like you were already a picture he never wanted to forget.
Jungkook leaned against your doorway with his new camera slung around his neck like it was another limb. His thumb tapped nervously on the side of it, but his eyes the big, pretty ones that always betrayed him were glued to you.
You brushed a hand over your French bangs, trying to tame them where they kept tickling your lashes. “You look like you’re about to cry,” you said, fighting a smile. “It’s just a dress, Jungkook.”
“Just a dress?” His voice cracked on the word, and he fumbled with the strap of his camera like it would anchor him. “You’re —no, it’s not just a dress. It’s… dangerous.”
A soft giggle bubbled out of you, and you wrinkled your nose at him, tilting your head. His lens clicked — once, twice. You startled at the sound, eyes going wide.
“Don’t make that face,” Jungkook murmured, hiding behind the viewfinder. “Or do. God. You don’t even know what you look like, do you?”
You scrunched your nose harder, playfully, leaning forward like a child daring to poke the camera. “Like a ghost in curtains?”
Click. Click.
His grin was small but real, teeth catching on the silver of his lip piercing. “Like my muse,” he said simply, and lowered the camera.
Your bangs fell again, soft against your forehead, and you laughed when he reached out, hesitated, then brushed them aside with the gentlest touch. The tips of his fingers lingered against your skin, then retreated as if burned.
“You’re going to be the death of me,” he whispered, not for the first time.
“And you’re going to blind me with that stare,” you teased, flopping onto the bed. The dress slipped higher along your thighs, but you only wiggled your toes at him, playful and unbothered.
The camera clicked again, catching you mid-giggle, bangs slipping back down into your eyes. You tried to swipe them away, cheeks warm. “I look ridiculous.”
“You look like art,” he said, no hesitation. And this time, he didn’t even lift the camera to prove it.
Jungkook chaste kiss your lips. Almost desperately — yearnful for your lips for your touch. You smiled against his lips before giving his chest a gentle shove. He stumbled back half a step, laughter spilling out of him as he caught the camera against his palm.
“Come on, my pretty baby,” he said, lifting it again. His voice was low, almost coaxing, and the emphasis on me made your cheeks heat. “Smile for me.”
The way he looked at you through the lens made it impossible not to obey. You giggled, hiding half your face behind your hand, but Jungkook clicked the shutter anyway.
“Perfect,” he whispered, almost to himself.
You lowered your hand, shaking your head. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And you’re mine,” he countered softly, taking another shot before lowering the camera again. His eyes lingered on you, like he couldn’t decide whether he wanted another photo or another kiss.
You tilted your head. “Which one is it?”
His lips curved, but instead of answering, he let the camera dangle from its strap once more and leaned down until his forehead touched yours.
“Both,” he breathed. “Always both.”
The camera was forgotten again as he kissed you, slower this time, savoring the way your laughter softened into a sigh against his mouth.
His lips lingered on yours, but when he pulled back, his camera was back in hand. He tilted his head, eyes narrowing as he studied you through the lens again.
“Take that off,” Jungkook said suddenly.
You blinked, stunned. “What? The dress?” The word came out barely a whisper, soft as your bangs brushing your forehead.
He lowered the camera just enough for you to see the smirk tugging at his mouth, the way his lip piercing glinted when he bit down on it. “It’s not like I haven’t seen your pretty pussy before.”
A sharp gasp tore from you, hands flying to your face. “Jungkook!” you squeaked, scandalized.
You grabbed the nearest pillow and flung it at him. He dodged with ease, laughter spilling out, low and breathless, the sound filling the room. The camera swung from its strap as he caught it with one hand, grin stretching wide across his face.
“Don’t act so shy, baby,” he teased, voice dropping as he peeked at you from behind the camera again. “Come my love, I'm so desperate to see your body and capture it. So only I see it.”
I shook my head at him. Smiling again.
Jungkook steadied the camera in his hands, though the tremor in his fingers betrayed him. His gaze flicked from the lens to you, then back, like he couldn’t decide whether to keep playing photographer or just climb onto the bed with you and never move again.
“Lay down for me,” he murmured, voice low, coaxing.
You blinked at him, bangs brushing your lashes as you tilted your head. “Here?”
“On the bed.” His throat bobbed. “Please, baby. Just… lay on your stomach. A little —” he gestured vaguely with his free hand, ears already pink. “A little perked up.”
Your laugh was soft, airy, but you obeyed, crawling onto the sheets and settling down on your stomach. The green fabric of your flimsy dress shifted up as you moved, baring more of your thighs. Your ass perked up a little. You wiggled slightly, playful, and the sound Jungkook made in his throat was somewhere between a groan and a prayer.
Click.
The shutter snapped as his eyes roamed, reverent.
Click.
You peeked at him over your shoulder, scrunching your nose. “Do I look okay?”
His reply was immediate, rough-edged but gentle. “You look perfect.” Another click, then softer: “You always do.”
You giggled, pressing your cheek into the pillow. He shifted closer, hovering at the edge of the bed now, camera dangling forgotten against his chest.
“Love you,” he whispered. It wasn’t even part of the game anymore it just slipped out, like he couldn’t hold it back.
You smiled, warm and delicate, and Jungkook swore under his breath, like he’d never get used to the way you looked at him.
Click.
The last photo was blurry, because his hands shook. Not from the camera, but from the sheer ache of wanting you so much his chest hurt.
“Mine,” he said quietly, almost to himself. “My muse. My everything.”
The camera dangled uselessly against his chest, forgotten, as Jungkook crawled onto the bed beside you. The mattress dipped under his weight, and his hand slid hesitantly along the curve of your back, fingertips brushing over the flimsy green fabric.
“You know I can’t… I can’t keep taking pictures like this,” he muttered, his voice so low it was almost a groan. “You make me crazy, baby.”
You rolled onto your side to face him, giggling softly when his bangs fell into his eyes. You brushed them back with the tips of your fingers, and he leaned into the touch like a starved man.
“Crazy’s not so bad,” you whispered, teasing but gentle.
He kissed you then slow, patient, the kind of kiss that made your chest ache with how much he poured into it. His hand cradled your jaw, thumb stroking over your cheekbone like you might break if he wasn’t careful.
“I love you,” he breathed between kisses, over and over, like a chant. “Love you so much. More than this stupid camera. More than anything.”
Your soft giggles melted into little sighs as he trailed kisses down your throat, pausing every few seconds just to murmur another praise.
“So pretty.” Kiss.
“My muse.” Kiss.
“My girl.” kiss.
By the time he reached the hem of your dress, you were trembling with warmth. He pushed it up, just enough to bare your hip, his lips brushing over your skin.
“You don’t even know what you do to me,” he whispered, his voice shaking. His eyes met yours, wide and yearning, whipped beyond belief. “You make me want to worship you forever.”
Jungkook hovered over you, hands gentle but insistent, and with one swift motion, the flimsy green dress was gone, tossed aside like it had never existed. His lips found yours again, soft and warm, like you were spun from cotton, like touching you would make the world outside vanish.
A soft whimper escaped your lips when his fingers brushed against the damp fabric of your panties. Your body responded without thinking, every nerve alive under his touch.
He pulled back just enough to murmur, low and rough, “I barely touched you, love.”
“...Sorry,” you whispered, voice breathy and unsure, not even certain what you were apologizing for.
He chuckled, a warm, needy sound that vibrated through his chest as he lowered his forehead to yours. “I love it,” he said, voice thick with reverence and desire. “Every little sound, every little twitch, every gasp you’re mine, and I love it.”
You giggled softly, hands tangling in his hair, tugging him closer as he kissed down your jaw, along your neck. Each movement was careful, deliberate, worshipful. His teeth nipped at your earlobe, and you let out a tiny squeak.
“You’re too perfect,” he whispered against your skin. “So soft… so pretty, my muse.”
Every word, every touch, was slow, tender, and sticky with yearning. His hands traced over your curves, exploring, memorizing, worshipping. You shivered under him, your body responding to his every tease, and he groaned, burying his face into your shoulder as he soaked it in.
“I love you,” he breathed again, over and over, in between kisses and murmurs. “Love you so much, love.”
Jungkook’s lips trailed down your neck, nibbling softly, sucking just enough to leave tiny marks without hurting. You shivered, hands tangling in his hair as he pressed himself closer. His chest was warm against your back, steadying you, his thumb brushing your hip.
“You’re so soft,” he whispered, voice thick and needy. “So perfect for me, love…”
He moved lower, lips ghosting along your spine until he reached the curve of your ass. A teasing groan left you when he circled your folds through your panties, his fingers stroking teasingly.
“Please, Kook…” you whimpered, voice breathless, half-giggle, half-plea.
His grin was devilish, even through the soft whispers. “Mmm… such a needy little thing,” he murmured, tugging your panties to the side just enough. His tongue flicked across your sensitive folds, teasing, tasting, drawing soft cries from you.
“Oh—oh god, Jungkook!” you gasped, thighs trembling as his skilled tongue found exactly the right spots. He hummed against you, hands holding your hips to keep you steady as he worked, lapping, sucking, teasing your clit until your fingers curled in the sheets and your head fell into the pillow.
“Love… you taste so perfect,” he groaned, voice husky, shaking with need. “You’re mine, all mine…”
You were trembling, soft whimpers and giggles spilling together, and he finally pulled back just enough to look at you, dark eyes glittering with need.
“Now… now I want you. All of you,” he whispered, voice low and demanding. His hands slid over your thighs, parting them gently, and he lined himself up, kissing your inner thigh before lapping on your clit. Slow. Painfully slow.
You gripped his hair, arching back.
A sharp gasp left you, and he groaned into your skin. He slide his two finger inside you, savoring the tight warmth enveloping him. “So perfect, love… so perfect for me,” he muttered, finger fucking you, lips finding yours again in messy, hungry kisses.
Jungkook’s hands roamed your body, worshipping, praising, keeping you close as he moved tongue inside you. His tongue slide in and out you. You cried out.
You came undone, all over his mouth and fingers. He slurped all of it like a starved animal.
Jungkook’s hips pressed against you, the hard outline of his clothed cock sliding along your folds. He rocked slowly at first, teasing you, making you squirm and whimper beneath him. Every soft gasp and giggle drew him closer, like he couldn’t get enough of you.
“God, you feel so good, love,” he murmured, voice low and husky. His hands roamed your body one cupping your cheek, the other gripping your hip anchoring himself as he ground against you.
You mewled softly, pressing your face into the pillow, thighs trembling under the friction. The way he moved, slow and teasing, made your heart pound, your body burning with need.
“Such a good girl,” he groaned, leaning down to press his lips to your ear. “Mine. Always mine.”
He increased the pace slightly, pressing you into the mattress as soft moans spilled from you, your hands tangling in his hair. Each motion sent shivers through your body, and the wet heat of your folds made it impossible for him to hold back the groan that tore from his chest.
“Love… I need you,” he whispered, voice ragged, rocking harder against you, still teasing, still worshipping. “You’re mine, and I can’t wait anymore.”
Jungkook’s hands fumbled with his trousers, fumbling at the zipper as he groaned low, eyes dark with need. “I can’t wait anymore,” he muttered, voice thick and needy.
Your chest rose and fell under his gaze, nipples hard against the flimsy fabric. Without warning, his lips found your breast, sucking gently, rolling the sensitive nub between his tongue and teeth. A soft whimper left your lips, fingers threading through his hair as he hummed against you.
“You taste so sweet, love,” he murmured, voice rough with desire. His hands cupped your other breast, kneading softly, worshipfully. Each suck, each nibble, made your body shiver and tilt into him, your back arching slightly as he explored you.
“Jungkook…” you gasped, thighs trembling, cheeks flushed, voice soft but needy.
He grinned against your skin, almost triumphant. “Mine… all mine, baby.” His hands roamed, squeezing, praising, worshipping you as if you were fragile porcelain he could never get enough of.
The zipper finally slid down, his trousers loosening enough for him to grind further into you, now bare against bare. He let out a low groan, pressing himself against your heat, teasing you with every small movement, while his lips stayed glued to your skin.
“Love… you’re driving me insane,” he whispered, voice shaking, “so perfect, so soft.”
You giggled and whimpered all at once, nails grazing his shoulders, your body trembling under him. Each motion, each kiss, each suck, built the tension until it was unbearable, making you melt into him completely.
"Should we try that out? The one we saw?" Jungkook whispered, looking at you. You gulped and looked at him.
Weeks ago you guys saw a clip of a man fucking the boobs.
"I mean, i- I don't know." You mumbles.
"Only if you're okay with this, you know I won't ever do anything if you're not comfortable right?" Jungkook whispered against, caressing your cheeks. You smile little and nodded.
"You can."
Jungkook’s eyes lit up when you whispered “You can.” His Adam’s apple bobbed, a soft groan escaping his throat as he kissed your forehead.
“God, I love you,” he murmured before pressing his lips to yours again — gentle at first, then deeper, hungrier. He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze. “If you don’t like it, I’ll stop immediately, okay? Promise.”
You nodded, cheeks warm. “Okay.”
With trembling hands, Jungkook helped tug your bra down, freeing your breasts. His breath hitched at the sight, and his fingers trailed reverently over the soft swell before he kissed down your chest. “So pretty,” he whispered, squeezing gently before planting open-mouthed kisses around your nipples.
You gasped when he slid lower, pushing his trousers down enough for his cock to spring free. Hard, thick, flushed, he wrapped his hand around the base and swallowed hard. “Fuck, I’m shaking,” he admitted with a sheepish laugh, looking up at you like a boy caught stealing candy.
You giggled softly, brushing his bangs from his eyes. “You’re so cute, Koo.”
That earned you a groan, and he positioned himself carefully, sliding his cock between the soft valley of your breasts. His hands pressed your tits together, holding them snug around him. “Oh my god…” His voice cracked, pupils blown wide as he watched himself disappear between your skin.
The sight alone nearly broke him. He began thrusting slowly, cock gliding between your breasts, the head brushing up toward your collarbone before slipping back down. His lips parted, breath shaky.
“Baby—fuck—you feel unreal,” he groaned, leaning down to kiss your nose as he rutted carefully, tenderly, as though you were porcelain.
You bit your lip, cheeks heating, but his expression utterly undone, reverent made you giggle softly. “You’re so whipped.”
“I am,” Jungkook confessed shamelessly, thrusting a little harder between your breasts. “So fucking whipped for you, love. You make me lose my mind.”
You whimpered at his words, arching a little, letting him slide deeper, slick with the precum that smeared against your chest. His mouth fell open at the sight, his pace stuttering as he groaned, “God, I’m not gonna last if you keep looking at me like that.”
Jungkook’s hips jerked slightly, pressing the head of his cock right against your chin as he slid between your breasts. Your lips parted instinctively, tongue flicking out to taste him, teasing the sensitive tip with slow, deliberate strokes.
“Oh… love,” he groaned, hands tightening on your hips, holding you flush against him. “Fuck - just like that so good.”
Your eyes fluttered shut as you bobbed gently, letting him feel every teasing brush of your tongue, every soft lick against the slick, throbbing head. Each tiny gasp, each soft whimper that escaped your lips made him shiver, groan, and thrust harder, grinding himself against you.
“Mine… so mine,” he muttered, voice ragged, pressing his forehead to yours. His breaths came quick, shallow, desperate. “You’re gonna kill me, love… I swear”
You giggled softly, brushing your nose against his as you worked him with teasing precision, loving the way he was completely undone by your hands and mouth. “You like it?” you whispered, barely audible, soft and breathy.
“I love it… I love you… I love this,” he gasped, grinding harder, the head of his cock sliding between your breasts with every movement, slick and glistening.
Your fingers traced up his shoulders, tangling in his hair, tugging him closer, making him shudder against you. Every lick, every whimper, every tiny gasp from you pushed him closer to the edge, and he moaned, lost in the worshipful, messy pleasure of you.
Jungkook groaned, hips stuttering as his release hit, thick and hot, smearing over your chest and face. He grunted your name, completely undone, shaking as he rode the last waves of pleasure through you.
“Oh Kook.” you breathed, warmth and wetness coating your skin.
He collapsed onto you gently, still panting, forehead pressed to yours. “Fuck,” he gasped, voice ragged and broken, utterly whipped.
You giggled softly, brushing the damp strands of hair from your face, still flushed, still trembling. “You okay?”
He chuckled breathlessly, pulling you closer. “Never better,” he whispered, pressing soft kisses along your forehead and nose, murmuring, “You’re perfect, love… always perfect.”
You both lay there for a moment, tangled together, bodies sticky, hearts racing, the camera long forgotten on the floor.
Jungkook slid his cock along your drenched folds, still slick from earlier, every movement making you shiver. The friction against your sensitive skin so tender from his mouth made a soft gasp escape your lips.
“Gguk…” you whimpered, pressing your face into the pillow, cheeks flushed. You knew he wasn’t done yet, and the thought of him still needing you, still claiming you, sent warmth curling through your stomach.
His hips moved slowly at first, teasing, grinding along you, savoring every shiver, every soft whimper that escaped. “So perfect,” he groaned, hands gripping your hips, holding you flush against him. “I'm mad psychotic without you.”
You let out a soft moan, curling your fingers into the sheets as he pressed closer. Every slow thrust made your back arch, nipples brushing the mattress, hair falling in tangled strands around your face.
“Love… you’re killing me.” he murmured, leaning down to press soft kisses along your neck, shoulders, anywhere his lips could reach. “So perfect always mine.”
You whimpered again, thighs trembling, voice breathy and soft. “Don’t stop, Kook.”
His grin was wicked, despite the need in his voice. “I could never, baby. Never with you.”
Jungkook pressed himself fully inside you, slow and careful at first, letting the heat and tightness swallow him whole. Your body shivered around him, slick and warm, every inch of you clinging and welcoming him.
“Oh… Kook…” you whimpered, cheeks flushed, fingers digging into the sheets as he shifted gently, starting a rhythm that was steady but deliberate, worshipful.
His lips found your shoulder, pressing soft, lingering kisses as he groaned low in your ear. “So good… so perfect for me, love. Your pretty pussy made for me.”
You giggled softly, breathy and light, twisting your head to press a little kiss against his jaw. “You’re so whipped,” you teased, but the sound of your own giggle mixed with a whimper made him groan deeper, lost in the feeling of you.
His thrusts grew slightly firmer, not rough, just full of need and reverence, slow enough to make you moan, giggle, and gasp all at once.
“Love… I can’t… I’m gonna.” he rasped, voice breaking, forehead pressed to yours as he kissed your temple softly. “You feel so… so fucking good.”
Your hands threaded through his hair, tugging him closer as he moaned against you, lost in the heat of your bodies. “Kook… don’t stop, please”
Jungkook put your legs on his shoulder pounding softly in pussy, watching himself in and out.
Slow.
Rocking.
Thrusting upwards.
The warmth between you built higher, each thrust, each murmur of your name, each little giggle and soft whimper driving him over the edge. He groaned, shaking, losing himself in the worship of you. “I love you so much”
And then, with a shuddering, ragged groan, he came undone, hips jerking, voice breaking as he buried himself inside you, murmuring your name over and over. You gasped, trembling around him, clinging, giggling, whimpering completely sated, completely adored.
After a few moments, he collapsed onto your back, chest heaving, breathing ragged. You curled against him, tangled in sheets, in arms, in warmth, hair brushing across his flushed cheeks.
“You’re perfect,” he whispered, lips brushing the top of your head. “My muse.”
You giggled softly, pressing a kiss to his collarbone. “I love you.”
He grinned weakly, soft and whipped, resting his forehead against yours. “I love you more, my pretty baby.”
The camera lay forgotten on the floor, the photoshoot completely abandoned, replaced by whispers, giggles, kisses, and cuddles the messy, soft aftermath of two people completely undone for each other.
Jungkook sank onto the bed beside you, letting his weight press gently against yours. Your hair was tangled, your cheeks warm, and the lingering heat of your bodies made the sheets cling to you.
He traced a lazy finger along your arm, humming softly. “You’re… unbelievable,” he whispered, voice rough from exertion. “I can’t believe I get to be with you.”
You giggled softly, pressing your lips to his shoulder. “I could say the same about you,” you murmured, feeling his chest rise and fall beneath your hand.
He leaned down, brushing a kiss along your jaw and shoulder, careful and lingering. “I want to stay like this forever,” he said, voice low, almost shy. “Just… holding you.”
You tilted your head, brushing a hand along the nape of his neck. “Then stay,” you whispered, smiling against him. “I don’t want to move either.”
His lips pressed against your hair, nose tucked into your temple. “You feel amazing right now… warm, soft… I could stay here all night,” he murmured, hand sliding along your back in lazy circles.
You let out a sleepy laugh, curling closer to him, letting the warmth settle between you. “I like it… just like this,” you said, voice soft, eyes half-closed.
He held you tighter, pressing kisses along your shoulder and collarbone, murmuring things only for your ears, words that made your chest swell without ever repeating the usual lines. “I’m never letting you go,” he whispered, breathing in your scent, fingertips brushing over your skin with care.
The two of you stayed like that, tangled together, quiet giggles and soft sighs filling the room. No words were needed beyond whispered praises, gentle touches, and the steady beat of two bodies finally at rest.
📜 summary: you have loved him since scraped knees and mismatched socks. you have never once stopped. and you have never once said a word.
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📜 tags/warnings: unrequited love, best friends to nothing, pining, she loves him so much it's embarrassing, he doesn't know, she'd rather watch him be happy than confess, bittersweet ending, no happy ending disguised as closure, this is just a feeling that needed somewhere to go
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📜 word count: 600 words
In books and movies, childhood best friends fall in love, get married, live their happily ever after in soft focus and golden hour lighting. But you are not in a book. You are here, on a cracked sidewalk, watching sunlight paint the side of Jeongguk's face like something holy, his head thrown back in the kind of laughter that poets would kill to transcribe.
It is the most melodic sound you have ever heard. And you are not the one making him laugh.
She is. Her with her perfectly timed jokes, her with her easy, unearned privilege of hearing that sound every morning, every night, every lazy Sunday that belongs to her and not you. You are just his best friend. That is all you have ever been. That is all you will ever be.
And the irony sits in your throat like a stone you cannot swallow—you cannot even hate her. Because all you have ever wanted, with the raw, bleeding devotion of a person who has loved someone since they had scraped knees and mismatched socks, is for Jeongguk to be loved. To be held. To be cherished until the end of his bones. And she is doing that. She is doing it so perfectly, so seamlessly, that it makes you want to scream into your pillow at 2 a.m.
But you swallow it. You swallow it all. You paste a smile across your face like a Band-Aid over a wound that will never close. You laugh along with them. Your voice does not crack. Your hands do not shake. You have learned this performance by heart.
Because sometimes this is what love looks like. Not grand gestures or running through airports. Sometimes love looks like letting the person who holds your entire heart laugh in the arms of someone else. Sometimes love looks like standing six feet away from everything you have ever wanted and deciding, quietly, that his happiness is worth more than your confession.
So you watch. You watch from a distance that feels like a canyon. You create a thousand scenarios in your head—what if you had spoken sooner, what if you had been braver, what if the timing had been different—and you write them all down in a journal with a cracked spine. You hope, somewhere in the quiet, desperate part of your chest, that one day someone will love you the way you loved him. Not more. Not less. Just the same.
Because you would rather watch him be in love for the rest of your life than take that away from him. Even if it means you stay beside him as only a best friend. Even if it means you never get to be the one he comes home to. That is just destiny. That is just the way the cards fell. That is just how things are going to play out.
And one day—maybe not tomorrow, maybe not next year, but one day—it will not hurt this much. One day you will sit across from someone who laughs at your jokes, who reaches for your hand without you having to ask, who looks at you the way you always looked at him. And you will laugh together, easy and unforced, and the world will feel soft around the edges.
And then you will look at Jeongguk. You will look at the smile he directs at his lover—the one that crinkles his eyes, the one that has always been your favorite—and it will crack your heart open all over again. Split it right down the middle, like an apple broken in two.
But for once, for the first time, it will be worth it.