a/n: PRE TATTOO PRE LIP RING JUNGKOOK!!!!!! 190811 anni was this week and here is my gift to you all :^) this really wrecked me emotionally, I wanted to capture some nostalgia and 190811 era jk in this piece ₊˚⊹♡
summary: Nobody would ever think that it was true. Jeon Jungkook, the school's star athlete and popular boy, had never been with a girl before. His avoidance of girls often got misconstrued as a nonchalant ‘bad boy’ attitude, but in reality, he’s hoping nobody catches on that he’s just shy. And you, his childhood friend that he leans on for anything, are the only person that he trusts won’t tell anyone about this.
wc: 7.2k, 28 min
pairing: shy, sub virgin popular boy jungkook x best friend fem!reader
themes: so much sweetness, friends-to-lovers, young love, jungkook's first time, he's vulnerable, subkoo!!!, unprotected sex, f! talking through sex, oral (f receiving), jk tries to hold out to not finish too quicklyasdofasdf so cute, vanilla stuff
✮ important!: If you'd like to be a part of my taglist, which means you'll get notified/tagged every time I post original writing, let me know in the comments ♡
⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔
There was something extra special in the air this summer.
The chirp of the crickets at dusk, the twenty-eight-degree warmth that blanketed you as soon as you stepped outside, the rosy colour of the sky when it was still light out at nine: every little detail of these summer evenings filled your heart with wonder and excitement for the future.
Maybe it was adolescent naivety, but you had only been living on your own in your first studio apartment for a little less than a year, and you’re already feeling settled into your new era of young adulthood.
“I think Junghyun is having people over tonight again.”
Your childhood friend stood next to you as you loaded your grocery basket onto the conveyor belt, fiddling with the drawstring of his sweatpants. The radio played quietly in the background in the small grocery store, and the hum of the fluorescent lights dampened the room with a familiar buzz.
“He’s really loving your parents being out of town, hm?” You mumbled with a scoff, digging through your bag to find your wallet. “At least you get to be a part of his parties.”
Jungkook shook his head, following behind you as you moved up the line to pay. He had come to see you after class, draped in his college varsity hoodie, sweatpants, and his glasses. His backpack hung off both his shoulders, and his hands were in his pockets as he watched you shuffle through your bag.
“No, it’s way too chaotic for me. Last week, I watched his friend almost go over the railing from the second floor.”
You thanked the cashier as you collected your grocery bags, and Jungkook walked behind you, his slippers dragging gently against the laminate flooring. The little plastic curtain parted with a goodbye as you stepped out onto the pavement.
The clear, warm summer air enveloped your skin like a gentle embrace, and the sun was beginning to sink towards the horizon, casting long, hazy shadows across the streets and walls. You closed your eyes for a moment, letting the softness of the air caress your face. This was your favourite part of the day.
“What are you doing for dinner?” Jungkook asked, head gently tipped to one side as he tossed his bangs out of his eyes with a flick.
“Cooking this–” you lifted your grocery bag, “–and eating on the couch.”
“Sounds like a good time,” he mumbled, and he took a step closer to you to collect your grocery bag from your hands. “May I join?”
“Are you sure it’s a good idea to leave Junghyun and his friends alone at home?”
“I’ll chance it,” Jungkook said with a little smile, carrying your groceries in one hand as he turned to walk the familiar route.
The low-rise apartments softened the engine roars and honks from the main road behind you, and the two of you strolled side by side as the sun dyed the sky a lovely shade of pink, the first few stars beginning to twinkle above you. The air was just a little too warm, and the breeze just a little too cool, and the two swirled together into a perfect cocktail of summer air that soothed you as you walked.
Jungkook transferred to your elementary school in Year 3, and the two of you connected over the next few years. He was an energetic, rebellious kid with the fastest sprint time among his classmates, and being his deskmate meant lots of partner projects, shared class time, and tutoring back and forth throughout elementary school.
Years of teasing and torment blossomed into an inseparable, close friendship when you each got your first cellphones. He was the first person that you would text, good or bad, and the last person you could lie to. As you two grew older, Jungkook became a shyer, quieter teenager, but his reputation preceded him. A star student, a talented singer, and an undeniably competitive athlete, he gained popularity faster than he really cared to.
You dangled your hand off the strap of your tote bag as you walked alongside him, consciously hopping over any cracks in the pavement.
“Are you excited to be living on your own this fall?” You glanced up at him, and he smiled almost immediately.
“Oh, yeah.” Jungkook beamed. "I’m going to get a bunch of tattoos as soon as I’m on my own."
You raised a brow.
"That's cool, where?"
"I think here."
Jungkook raised his right hand towards you, the grocery bag still dangling from his fingers. He traced his fingers across his knuckles, showing you the prime real estate on his soft, golden skin.
"That's cute," you hummed.
"Yeah, like little letters or something. I haven't thought it through that much yet."
Jungkook dropped his hand back to his sides, flicking his hair out of his eyes again with a toss of his head.
"And Junghyun is going to have a hard time getting out of trouble without me covering for him all the time,” he chuckled.
As you two walked closer to your apartment, the sound of busy roads gave way to the soft chirp of crickets from the empty lots between buildings that were yet to be given a purpose other than looking pretty at sunset.
“I’m sorry if my neighbour is home when we get back,” you muttered. “The girl across the hall from me has been seeing some new guy, and she is not very subtle about when he comes over.”
Jungkook chuckled to himself.
“That sounds terrible.”
“It is. That’s the one thing you’ll have to promise not to do to your neighbours when you move out next semester.”
His brows furrowed, shaking his head in confusion with a laugh.
“What–what is that supposed to mean?” he said half defensively.
“You know, first time living alone, college life as a single guy, just…don’t torment those around you,” you said with a laugh.
“...You think I’m just going to be bringing girls back to my apartment every night like in a movie?”
You threw your hands up playfully.
“Whatever, I don’t want to know what you get up to in your personal time,” you laughed.
“Not that,” he scrunched his nose in embarrassment as he adjusted the grocery bag in his hand.
“Come on,” you poked. “You can’t seriously be claiming that you’ve never been a little too loud with Junghyun at home or something.” Your brow was raised as you spoke to him, and his eyes dropped to the pavement at his feet.
“No,” he said with a quirk of awkwardness on his face. “That’s never happened.”
“What are you, abstinent or something?” You said with a laugh.
The words cut through Jungkook's smile in an instant. You didn't notice as you kept walking, staring ahead.
“I mean, I’ve never…” he trailed off, a small, embarrassed expression flashing across his face.
“Like ever? You’re joking.” Your words didn’t intentionally come out so bluntly, but part of you was convinced that he was just trying to get a reaction out of you.
Jungkook stared back at you, one hand in his pocket, the other carrying the grocery bag, and his face displayed nothing but vulnerability. You scanned his expression for any signs of bullshit, and when you caught nothing, you let out an unfiltered "oh."
Upon your realization, Jungkook turned on his heel and started walking in the other direction.
“Forget it.”
“No! No, I’m sorry–” You ran to catch up to him, attaching yourself to his arm. His jaw was clenched as he kept walking, eyes drilling forward through his glasses.
“Jungkook,” you tugged his arm a little to make him stop. “I didn’t mean anything by that. I’m sorry.”
He stopped walking, his eyes still not on you. Your voice had softened as you spoke.
“I just…I’m surprised that’s all.”
He didn’t say anything, but he let his eyes fall on you now.
“You’re just…you, you know? Everyone knows and likes you.”
He let out a small scoff.
“Okay, so?”
Jungkook continued walking, his forearm flexed as the grocery bag swung by his side. You let his movement pull you as you walked alongside him, arm still linked with his arm that was in his pocket.
“What about our classmates who have tried to ask you out?”
His brows furrowed.
“What do you mean?”
“Like, when Sunny asked you if you were going to the cabaret alone,” you pressed, adjusting the weight of your tote bag on your shoulder.
“Yeah, I didn’t…I didn’t want to go with Sunny.”
It was your turn to stop walking now. Jungkook kept his hand in his pocket, but your halted pace made him stop as well.
“Okay, so you’ve never been with a girl before. Who cares? It’s not a big deal at all.”
Jungkook was sulking as he stared at the ground, and he felt his ears get hot.
“Yeah, well, you seem to find it unbelievable.”
“It’s just because you’ve been chased endlessly the entire time we’ve known each other. Do you remember elementary school graduation? How many girls cried when they had to say bye to you?”
He laughed a little at the memory: a bunch of thirteen-year-old female classmates waited their turn to give a final hug goodbye to him through teary eyes.
“That never really mattered to me,” he mumbled, his eyes looking down at the ground as he continued walking.
“It doesn’t matter to me either,” you assured him. “I’m sorry. Seriously.”
Jungkook stood there, hood up, eyes on the ground in silence.
“Koo, I’m sorry. Please come over still. I’ll make you a double portion of my dinner.”
A small smile grew on his face, and he shook his head and turned on his heel. You looped your arm back in his, continuing your walk to your dorm.
“Double portion, and I get to open your soju.” He muttered.
“Okay, deal.”
The opening sequence of your favourite drama rattled through your TV speakers, with Jungkook scrolling aimlessly on his phone on the couch. The dinner dishes were left soaking in the sink as you yanked your fridge door open.
"I'm starving," you murmured to yourself as you pulled out the soju from the door.
You cracked open the bottle and handed Jungkook his drink, served in his favourite mug that he had thrifted and then insisted on keeping at your apartment.
He sat on the couch cross-legged with his bowl of tteokbokki balanced on his leg, and you carried your bowl and mug to the coffee table, sitting on the floor in front of him.
You settled in your seat on the floor before turning around to clink your mug against his.
“Cheers,” you chirped before turning back to face the television.
Jungkook popped a tteokbokki in his mouth, chewing as the introduction played.
“I can’t believe you still like this show,” he mumbled.
“It’s cute,” you mumbled, eyes on the screen. “It’s nice to imagine that this is what being in your twenties is like: stumbling into the arms of a cute stranger and then having a whirlwind romance in the warm summer breeze."
Jungkook chuckled, his little dimple making an appearance as he tilted his head at you teasingly.
"The whole show is about the main character trying to convince her crush that she's not a loser. Is that what you really want?"
You elbowed him, eyes still glued to the screen.
"I want something," you retorted.
Jungkook didn't prod further, but he hid a small smile before his mug.
By halfway through the episode, the soju bottle was empty, and the two empty bowls were abandoned on your coffee table. You had retreated up onto the couch next to Jungkook, with your legs draped over the armrest, and your head rested comfortably on a pillow you had placed on his chest. He readjusted himself underneath you a few times, jostling the pillow underneath your head as he tried to get comfortable.
“Are you okay?” You looked up at him. “Stop moving, I can’t read the subtitles clearly.”
Jungkook cleared his throat above you.
You glanced up at his face, his chin only a few inches away from the top of your head.
"What?”
“Nothing.”
You sat up a little, brow raised with a scowl on your face.
“You’re shuffling a lot for someone who has nothing on their mind.”
Jungkook scoffed.
“I’m not.”
You stared at him, side eye cutting into his jaw now.
“Alright, whatever you say.”
You rolled your head back to the television, Jungkook’s chest rising and falling a little faster underneath you. You pretended not to notice, even though you knew him far too well to recognize when something was bothering him. He was practically bouncing in his seat.
“Why do you care what others think of you so much?” The voice from the TV pulled your attention back in.
The woman on screen halted to a rough stop before whipping around, the drama of it all had you locked onto the show.
“It’s not other people, it’s you. I care about what you think.”
"Aw," you mumbled, eyes still glued to the screen. The scene played out in perfect motion, and you felt your legs flutter a little off the armrest from excitement. The way the characters were pouring their hearts out at each other, saying exactly what was on their mind for several episodes, made you lean forward in interest and anticipation—
“I don’t want to start my last year in college as a virgin,” Jungkook suddenly blurted aloud.
You sat up a little, the sudden topic catching you off guard. Jungkook stared at you, eyes wide and round.
“Huh?”
He scrunched his eyes shut before shaking his head.
“Never mind.”
“No no,” you reached towards him to hold his hand. “It’s okay, talk to me.”
Jungkook kept his hand in yours, tugging his hood back up over his hair with his other.
“I promise, like nobody cares.” You tilted your head to the side. "I swear, I didn't mean to get in your head like that. It was a stupid-"
“No, I mean.” He scrunched his eyes shut and shook his head, as if trying to find the right words. “Like, I don’t want to.”
You fell silent for a moment.
"Okay, so...don't then."
Jungkook looked up at you, and you had turned your body around so that you were facing him. You held a warm, supportive little smile on your face, the same smile that gave him the courage to perform at his first talent show, those eyes that made him spill everything about himself to you without you ever asking.
He felt his palms get a little sweaty.
"It's not like I want to just go outside and lose it," he muttered, cheeks growing redder by the second. "I just want...I don't want it to be with a stranger either, I want-"
He caught himself before he said something that he wouldn't be able to take back, but his insinuation had already taken its effect on you. Your heart felt like it was beating faster, and if the soju hadn't done so already, your cheeks were growing warm.
"Koo," you murmured.
You looked up at your best friend, and his eyes bore down into his clammy hands before slowly drifting his gaze upwards to lock eyes with you.
"I trust you the most. You're my best friend." His words came out quiet, but the weight of them settled onto your chest. Suddenly it fruit like there was less oxygen in the room.
He didn't say anything else. He didn't have to.
“I won’t tell anyone, I promise,” you whispered, sitting cross-legged in front of him on the couch. Jungkook shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his ears getting hotter by the second.
His own shyness irritated him, he was high school valedictorian and here was, years later, asking his best friend to teach him how to fuck.
“And you can’t make fun of me—“
“I would never.”
The television had seemingly gone mute; both of you were focused on each other now.
Jungkook’s glasses sat a little low on his nose, and he nudged them back up before finally making eye contact with you.
“Okay.”
You two stared at each other for a moment, and you slid a little closer towards him on the couch. Jungkook felt his throat go dry at the thought of what it would feel like if you let him kiss you tonight.
“Don’t be nervous, it’s just me.” Your eyes were shy but kind, the warmth in your expression soothing his nerves.
The hum of the fridge only made the silence in the room more apparent. Jungkook’s palms were sweaty, and he thanked the buzz of the soju for helping him move past his initial anxiety-stricken state. He fidgeted with his own fingers as he stared at you, nestling his lower lip between his teeth.
You sat in front of him, head slightly cocked to one side, saying nothing. Jungkook cleared his throat.
"You don't have to do this if you don't want to," he whispered.
"I never said that."
He felt his heart leap in his chest, the thick cotton of his hoodie beginning to feel too warm. He leaned forward a little, his hands made contact with your knees, and you felt your skin prick lightly into goosebumps beneath his hands.
Jungkook tilted his head at you, silently checking that you were okay with his reaching forward.
When you gave him no objection, he slid his hands a little further up your leg and parked them on your waist.
Your heart fluttered in your chest at the sensation of his hands on you in this new light. The way he was being so delicate with you, the softness in his touch like he was worried he would offend you: this was a side of Jungkook that you didn’t see very often.
The only type of physical affection he gave you was bear hugs when you were crying, or when he let you prop yourself up against him on the couch, or high fives that he slapped against your hand a little too hard because he thought it was funny to see your reaction.
It was slow at first; he approached your face like a fox with its tail between its legs. He couldn’t look you in the eye: it felt all too different now. His eyes danced across your face, darting to your nose, your little freckle on your cheek, before landing on your lips. They were so pretty.
Jungkook had noticed before. How pretty your lips were. Sometimes, when you spoke, he would catch himself paying too close attention, not just to listening to you, but to watching you speak. Watching how your lips curled up into a smile right before you delivered a joke. And now, he was here, on your couch, noticing them again.
“Would it help if I closed my eyes?” You offered with a small smile. Jungkook’s eyes finally came up to meet yours, his dark, round eyes looking wide and anxious.
“No, I...I want you to look at me.” He whispered. “It’s...you comfort me.”
You crinkled your nose a little and gave him a shy smile before shuffling into your sitting position and holding his gaze. You felt your palms get a little sweaty at the new expression on his face, nervous, but he never broke eye contact.
You let him lean in, waiting patiently to give him the time and space he needed. His grip on your waist was so gentle, just the weight of his hands on your body and nothing more.
"Fuck it," he whispered to himself before he leaned forward, officially closing the distance between you two.
His lips were wet, soft and warm against yours. At first, he just pressed them against yours, frozen in place. Your eyes fluttered closed at the new sensation, the light taste of lychee on his lips from the soju. Eventually, he hesitantly began to move his mouth against yours, like two people learning how to slow dance. You reciprocated his movements, the hinging of his strong jaw against your mouth sending a whirlwind of butterflies through your stomach.
“Is this okay?” He mumbled against your mouth, his eyes dancing between both your eyes for any body language he could use as a sign, a response, feedback. He drifted away from you slightly, giving you a chance to back out. You wouldn't take it.
You nodded, leaning back in towards him again. He gasped this time at your forwardness, letting his mouth fall open a little. He curiously swiped his tongue against your lower lip before sliding it inside your mouth. A sharp exhale left his nose; he hadn't realized how badly he wanted to kiss you until he was here, on your couch, learning the taste of your saliva for the first time.
He leaned in a little closer to you as the kiss deepened, his hands planting themselves firmly on your waist. His warm hands held you with purpose, pulling you ever so slightly towards him. That small gesture, that need in his body language, he couldn't help but try to close all the distance between you two.
Your eyes fluttered open for a second to see your best friend with his brows furrowed, eyes closed, and his glasses ever so slightly foggy with the warm breath that escaped from between your mouths. You eventually pulled away for a moment to catch your breath, to see him slightly breathless and pink in the face.
“We can stop whenever you want to." You tilted your head a little lower, as if trying to look at him properly from behind his long bangs that poked him in the eyes.
“I…I don’t want to stop,” he murmured before reaching a hand behind your neck and pulling you back onto his mouth with a whine. You sighed into his mouth as he continued kissing you with a newfound determination, his hands gripping and pinching your skin with just enough force to make you his.
You stayed there on the couch, making out alongside the background accompaniment of the TV until Jungkook's hand drifted up your torso, slowly creeping up to your chest. His sweaty palm landed right over one of your breasts, hesitating there, not applying any pressure other than the weight of his hand.
Like he was waiting for permission. You tittered into his mouth and brought your hand over his, massaging your breast through his hand with him together.
"Shit," he whispered into your mouth. His hand started moving on its own, kneading soft circles into the flesh of your breast. You let him feel you up through your shirt for a few moments while his tongue explored your mouth, letting him relish the feeling of finally getting to know this side of you.
You can't say you hadn't thought about it either.
With one quick peck, you pulled away from the kiss for a second. You gave him an innocent smile before reaching for the hem of your shirt, tugging it up over your head to reveal your bra. Jungkook felt like his eyes could fall out of his head. Without missing a beat, you reached behind your back, unhooking the clasp and letting your bare breasts fall freely in front of the wide-eyed boy in front of you.
"Shit," he repeated to himself, his eyes unable to look anywhere else except your chest. He reached one curious hand forward, picking up one breast in his hand, letting the warm weight of it settle comfortably in his palm. His fingers squeezed you a little, the squishy flesh overflowing between his fingers. "You're so pretty, Y/N."
For the second time tonight, a wave of shyness overcame you, and you crinkled your nose. He tilted you up by the chin to face him, your shyness all replaced by the hard thumping of your chest.
"Am I doing okay?" He spoke so softly that if you weren't paying attention, you wouldn't have heard him.
"Yeah, you're doing great," you reassured with a soft smile. Despite being topless, Jungkook held your gaze with the exception of his hand still grazing the skin of your chest.
And then he leaned forward, twinkling brown eyes closing as he wrapped his lips around your left nipple.
"Jungkook," you mewled, your back arching towards him, the flesh of your breast squishing further against your best friend's nose. His tongue swirled across your hardened peak like he was worshipping you, the soft, wet muscle signing letters across your skin.
When Jungkook resurfaced, his eyes were dark and blown out, his smile completely dissipated. What remained was a starving, enamoured boy who wanted nothing more than to please you tonight.
He leaned back in to kiss you again, as if he couldn't get enough of you. Each drag of his tongue against yours drew soft moans and exhales from his lips, like a puppy that was feeding on its favourite food for the first time.
Your hand got curious and drifted into his lap, slowly inching your hand towards his waist. His breath hitched, and his brows pinched together a little tighter at the new weight of your hand on his thigh. Your hand drifted closer to the waistband of his sweatpants, palming him gently over his clothing. Underneath the thick terry cotton, you could feel the effect that you had on him, his hard-on evident even through the plush material of his sweatpants. He let out a sigh at the feeling of your hand, and his hips shifted underneath you, rolling slightly into the palm of your hand.
"Y/N," he whispered into your mouth. "That...that feels good."
You smiled into the kiss and massaged him through his pants a little more confidently, and a proper moan left his lips, muffled against your mouth. The sound of your best friend melting underneath your touch was enough to make you lose any semblance of shyness.
Suddenly, Jungkook pulled away from the kiss again; every time you opened your eyes to look at him, he was a little more desperate, his cheeks were a little more flushed, his lips a little more puffy.
"Um," he stammered. "Can we-I've always wanted to..."
You couldn't help but smile.
All the years you've known him, he was the star athlete, the one who garnered everyone's attention so easily. And he never seemed to mind. If anything, you were the one who struggled with public speaking and refused to even appear in his vlogs.
But here, in your cozy little apartment, he was melting into a puddle in front of you, practically at your feet as he struggled to ask for what he wanted.
"Hey," you murmured with a soft smile. "Just say it. We're here now. It's just me."
He scrunched his nose in embarrassment and squeezed his eyes shut for a second before looking back up at you.
"I want to learn how to...I mean, I want to go down on you."
His cheeks have never looked redder.
Your eyes widened, then your mouth fell slightly open, but it immediately broke into a smile. He blinked a few times, his trance visibly shattering momentarily.
"Was that too forward? I'm so-"
"No, it's okay."
You giggled and bit your lower lip playfully as you scooted to the end of the couch.
"Okay, Koo. Come here."
Jungkook didn't even realize he had already climbed off the couch and dropped to his knees in front of you until he felt the plush of your carpet under his kneecaps. It seemed his body was well aware of what it wanted.
You bit your lip at how eager he was for you and gently tugged your shorts off your legs, slowly and carefully. You sat at the end of your couch in just your underwear before spreading your legs slightly towards him.
Jungkook felt like the luckiest boy in the world.
"Okay, scoot a little closer. Put your hands here." You took both of his hands and planted them on your upper thighs, and immediately you could feel how warm his palms were on your skin. How needy he was to touch you.
He lowered his head to be eye level with your underwear, the slight outline of your folds from your fabric clinging to your arousal making his brain short-circuit.
"Okay, you can tug these off to one side," you murmured, lifting your hips ever so slightly. He obeyed you without another word, looping one long finger into your underear and slinging it off to one side.
Jungkook let out a visceral moan simply at the sight of you, glistening wet and so soft and pretty. From this close distance, you smelled musky and sweet, your arousal hitting him directly in the lower stomach like his favourite scent.
"Y/N," he croaked, like he was asking for permission, or heeding a warning before he lost all control.
"Go ahead," you hummed.
Without thinking, he leaned forward and let his tongue drag an exploratory swipe up between your folds. Immediately, he let out another strangled moan at the taste of you.
You jolted forward at his sudden movement, a whine escaping your mouth.
"Wow, you're impatient, aren't you?" You moaned.
Jungkook could barely hear you now. The taste of you on his tongue was the most addictive, insatiable thing he's ever enjoyed. In that moment, he knew that he would die if this was the last time he'd get to do this for you.
"Every girl is different, so what I'm about to tell you might not work on other girls," you managed through sharp exhales.
Jungkook gave you another curious lick before separating his mouth from your folds momentarily.
"I only care about learning how to please you."
And then his mouth was back all over you, hungry and eager.
Your heart lept out of your chest at the sight of your childhood best friend with his eyes closed, lapping at you like he was drunk. You felt like you were dreaming.
"Okay, you can focus on licking my clit," you said with a shaky breath. "Flatten your tongue and lick upwards: like you're licking a popsicle."
He nodded and began to lick lightly pressed laps up your pussy, beginning at your hole and dragging up to the sensitive nub. You let out a cry at how quickly he obeyed you.
"Y-yeah, good," you breathed. "You can push ha-harder."
And he did. He pressed his tongue flatter against you, letting his tongue flick gently off your clit before returning his tongue to your hole and licking upwards again.
Jungkook’s eyes pried open as soon as he heard you whine, like a siren's call. And suddenly his eyes were glued to you, watching how his movements and pressure garnered a reaction out of you, each lap and flick of his tongue making your back arch a little more. Seeing you like this above him, twisting and moaning at his actions, it fueled him even more. His nervousness had subsided temporarily, replaced by determination to do his absolute best for you, to make sure tonight was worth your while.
“A little, a little faster, please, Koo.” Your exhale came out in a small, whiny pant, and your request sent a twitch directly to Jungkook’s boxers. He nodded slowly as he picked up the pace of his tongue for you, maintaining the same motions as before, lapping gently, eyes still affixed to your expressions.
He couldn’t stop watching you; your reactions were so mesmerizing. The way you arched your back, the way your bare chest was rising and falling, the way you said his name, Jungkook could do this all day.
"You taste so good," he whimpered into your heat. A breathy half-moan, half-laugh escaped your mouth as your hands instinctively came up to hold Jungkook’s head gently.
A fire ignited in his chest as he was determined to see more of your reactions. He suddenly switched from quick laps against your clit to soft suckles on your clit, his lips wrapped gently around your clit and pulsing in quick, short motions. You let out a sweet, girlish whine, and Jungkook couldn’t help but groan into your pussy at the sound. Your moans were absolutely music to his ears, and he silently promised himself that he wouldn’t let this be the last time he heard you like this.
“Oh, fuck,” you moaned, your eyes closed and brows pinched together as his tongue’s motions coaxed you closer and closer to your release. “Koo, that’s–that’s really good.”
He nodded softly at your words and delved his face into your heat just a little deeper, his nose pressing itself firmly against your skin.
"Keep going," you managed through hitched breaths. "I'm going to-I'm close."
Your hand came up to silence yourself, your moans stifling through the tiny gaps in your fingers. "Mm-Jungkook, mmph."
Jungkook felt like he was high. His eyes were glued to you, taking in every single twitch of your body, every arch of your back. He could feel you tensing underneath him, the muscles in your legs flexing, your abdomen tightening.
Having you so close to the edge, all as the result of his mouth, Jungkook was certain that this must have been what heaven feels like.
Your orgasm rippled through your body at the same intensity that it had built up. Your hand fell from your own mouth, letting yourself moan aloud, your gentle hands on his head transforming into desperate fingers tangled and tugging on his soft black hair. He let out a soft groan as you rolled your hips upwards against his tongue and lips, your body begging for a little more as he helped you ride out your climax.
"Fu-fuck, shit," you cried out, gently using his face to finish getting yourself off. The grind of your hips on his face, Jungkook could feel the precum leaking from his furiously eager tip and soaking into the fabric of his boxers.
When your grip on his hair eventually loosened, Jungkook finally allowed himself to pull his mouth away from your dripping heat. He had been watching you intently this whole time, studying your reactions as his tongue explored your insides. His round brown eyes twinkled behind his glasses as he gazed at you, admiring the view of you above him, whimpering and folded in a way that made him feel dizzy. A few strings of saliva and arousal draped between his lower lip and your folds as he pulled away, before breaking. He slid his tongue across his lips shyly, now flushed and swollen from pleasing you.
"Was that okay?" he asked with a shy smile, his chin and mouth soaked in your glisten. You were collapsed slightly onto the armrest of your couch, abdomen flexing with every heavy breath.
"Yes, yeah," you said with a laugh. "That was...really good."
He beamed with a wider smile before you sat up again, reaching your arms out to grab him.
"Come, take your clothes off. Get on top of me."
Jungkook's heart could explode out of his chest at your words, and he sat up on the floor and tugged his shirt off before shimmying his sweatpants down off of his legs. He stood up and carefully lowered himself over you, propping his arms on either side of your head.
Your eyes dropped to scan his body, and you felt your thighs clench a little. His body was chiselled, his waist was slender in a way that made him so boyishly charming.
"Uh, do we need a-"
"I'm on the pill. If you don't mind, I don't either."
He could feel his cheeks get hotter with each passing moment. Tonight, there was nobody else in the world except you.
"Okay."
He positioned himself at your entrance, and you brought your hand down between your legs to guide him a little. The feeling of your fingers on his needy cock for the first time ever was enough to already have Jungkook leaking a little dribble from his flushed tip.
He squeezed his eyes shut and let out a moan at the feeling of you pumping him lazily with your fingers.
"Fuck, that feels-so good," he murmured. You grinned at him before peering down between your legs, watching yourself pump him, studying the pretty curve of his length.
Jungkook rolled his hips a little, his tip poking you gently against your folds.
"Wanna fuck you now, please."
You couldn't help but smile coyly at him.
"Yea? Okay."
You guided him inside of you with your hand, the tip of him just barely dipping into the warmth inside. Already, Jungkook was whimpering at the sensation. Slowly, he pushed himself inside of you until he was fully sheathed. His head dropped forward for a second, struggling to hold it together as you swallowed him in your warm wetness, the sensation consuming him entirely.
This was infinity better than Jungkook’s own hand.
"Mmh," he managed through pinched lips. "That's so-oh my god."
"Yeah, I know," you sighed, relishing in the fullness of your best friend inside of you.
He established a rhythm rather quickly, thrusting his hips into yours at a moderate pace that allowed him to feel every single part of you all at once, pushing himself slightly deeper and harder with every roll of his hips.
Your hands landed on his biceps, holding yourself steady as Jungkook fucked you steadily.
"Is this-fuck-is this okay?" He was so focused on making sure that he was doing a good job at pleasing you, despite how tightly you were squeezing around him already.
"Yeah," you replied through moans. "Yeah, keep going."
He continued diving into you at a healthy pace, and you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist, holding him possessively between your legs as you watched him with curious eyes.
"You feel so good," he stammered. "It's insane."
You cooed in response, lifting your head slightly to make contact with his neck, suckling and kissing gently along his collarbone.
"Y/N," he whined. "You're so hot."
You hummed against his skin, hands still feeling up his biceps as you fought the urge to give your best friend his first hickey. You teetered on the line, careful not to mark him as you continued licking and sucking on the tender skin of his neck, drawing him in closer to you as you milked him, nuzzling your nose against his jawline.
“Wait,” he suddenly faltered, and his head dropped down, eyes scrunched closed. His movements halted, biting his lower lip.
You pulled away from his neck at the sudden change in sensation, and your hands instinctively came up to cup his cheek.
“What’s wrong? Everything okay?”
Jungkook was panting a little, eyes still shut, and he nodded slightly. His lip was pinched between his teeth in concentration.
“Yeah. I’m–I just…I don't want it to be over just yet. And if I keep going, I won't last.”
Your heart soared in your chest at his words, and despite how well you knew each other for the past nine years, your cheeks flushed as if you were chatting with a stranger.
“Okay,” you whispered. He slowly sat up off of you, sliding out of you, and you propped yourself up on your elbows. Jungkook was sweating, his cheeks were pink, and in the dimly lit room, the shadows on his biceps taunted you as he pushed his hair out of his eyes.
The two of you laid on the couch, chests rising and falling, letting the cool air and quiet television in the background comfort you for a moment. Your eyes couldn’t help but scan his naked body, glistening a little with sweat, his eager cock still hungry and bouncing against his taut abdomen. Jungkook was staring at you, and he let out a small laugh.
“What?” You felt yourself get shy, but he shook his head.
“Nothing. You’re pretty.”
You let out a small, shy laugh, and Jungkook smiled at you, his big brown eyes watching you like you hung the moon in the sky. You looked away from him with a shake of your head and sat up.
“Wanna keep going?”
An unfamiliar look twinkled across Jungkook’s face for a moment, and he nodded.
“Yeah.”
“Okay.” You bit your lip, fighting a smile. “Lay down for me.”
He obeyed you immediately, sliding his body down on your couch until his head was propped up on your armrest. You stood up and straddled his hips, with either leg pincering his waist. You took his twitching cock in your hand, and immediately his expression faltered again, pouting and letting out a breathy moan at your touch.
“You’re…so pretty,” he repeated, his hand coming up to gently cup your breast as you positioned yourself above him. You ran your hand along the muscle of his chest as you aligned him at your entrance, before sinking down on him slowly.
“Fu–fuck,” he whispered. He threw his head back against your armrest, the warmth of your sweet sex wrapping around him, sending him into euphoria.
Jungkook was getting lost in it; all semblance of embarrassment or shyness was being overpowered by how good you were making him feel, how well you were riding him. Before, he was nervous, determined to make you feel good and to do a good job, but with you sitting on him and taking control, he let himself revel in his own pleasure for the first time tonight, and he felt like he was in heaven.
You began to roll your hips while straddling him, alternating between grinding down on length and bouncing up and down gently on your knees. You watched carefully, reading his expressions as he contorted his face with every movement.
“Mm–my god,” he whimpered, and his hands came up to cover his face as he relished in his own pleasure. Through the gaps between his fingers, you saw his brows furrowed in a whiny pout, eyes shut and trembling. You slowed the pacing of your hips slightly and tilted your head to one side.
“Hey, don’t,” you murmured, gently pulling his hands away from his face. “Look at me. You look cute.”
His eyes pried open at your sweet words, and his expression made your stomach flip. His flushed lips were pouting, his brows furrowed, his eyes piercing through you as he maintained eye contact with you.
“Please,” he whimpered, his exhales coming out in sharp hisses, like he was struggling with a heavy set at the gym. He looked like he was practically begging for you to keep going, and you could tell he was so close to his climax. "I'm gonna-"
He cut himself off, his sentence suddenly trailing off as his fingers dug into your hips a little harder.
"Y/N, I'm-I'm-"
You leaned down to plant a sweet, wet kiss against his open mouth before murmuring sweet nothings into his lips.
"Go ahead. Finish for me."
"Oh m'god-"
You hungrily took in his expressions on his face as he furrowed his brows, then released them, his eyes wide with surprise and pleasure as his climax overtook him. His mouth fell open into an adorable 'O', panting and licking his lower lip desperately as he flexed his abdomen, tossing his head back helplessly at the shockwave of this new pleasure he was feeling.
Jungkook dropped his head forward to try to hide his expression as he rode out the last of his orgasm. His bangs were a little messy, stuck to his forehead, and his skin glistened with sweat now. You reached down and swept his bangs from poking in his eyes, and you tilted your head down to match his eye line.
You slowed your movements until you were just sitting on top of him now, straddling him with his length still inside of you. You couldn't help but smile to yourself, your chest heaving slightly as you watched your friend catch his breath underneath you.
“Was that okay?”
Jungkook’s eyes were closed now, but he nodded intently.
“Yeah, yes.”
You let yourself collapse on top of him, and he wrapped his arms around you, holding you against his chest as his length was still buried inside of you. You let your breathing return to normal as you rested your head on his chest, listening to the vulnerable thumping of his heart through his ribcage.
You lifted your head from his chest after a few moments, and Jungkook opened his eyes at last, his eyes still blown out, but the softness in them had returned.
"How do you feel?"
Jungkook let out a breathless laugh.
"Y-yeah."
You gently bent over to collect your shirt from the floor, holding it against your body to hide your chest again.
“Are you ready?” you murmured with a small smile. “This is going to be a little gross.” He nodded, and without even realizing it, his eyes immediately darted down to where you two were currently connected, curious to watch himself dribble out of you.
You stood up, and he spilled out of you, painting his own exposed abdomen in a messy pool of translucent white liquid. His eyes were affixed to the fluid that dripped out of you in timid, slow drips against his skin.
“That’s…hot,” he breathed, his head tilting to one side. He caught your eye for a moment before letting out an airy laugh, the reality of the situation settling comfortably in the air. You scrunched your face in embarrassment a little and stood completely off of him before turning to disappear into your bathroom for a moment.
"Don't move, you'll get my couch dirty," you called over your shoulder. Jungkook couldn't help but trail his eyes along your bare legs and bum as you sauntered away.
In the quiet living room, he took a quick look around to ground himself. He had been here so many times; hell, he had helped you move in. Every box of yours, he helped unpack, despite his complaints, and his eyes scanned the books you had on your shelf- more than last time he was here- but still, your favourite titles stood out to him. He felt…safe. Welcome. Like this was his home. He melted a little further into the couch, the warmth of your cushions enveloping him in an entirely new way now.
“Here,” you returned, now wearing your oversized T-shirt again and holding a warm, damp washcloth, and lowered yourself back down to his level. “Move your arm.”
Jungkook obeyed, lifting his arm to let you scoot in closer, before you started wiping him clean, his abdomen, his upper thigh, his hip bone that protruded ever so slightly. Jungkook’s stomach was twisted in knots: you were taking care of him so sweetly, so focused, as though this was the natural next step after you took his virginity. His arm was draped over your lower back as you sat on the floor next to the couch, gently cleaning him up.
He hummed as you cleaned up the last of the mess, before going to stand up to toss the washcloth in your hamper. Jungkook caught your wrist before you could walk away, and you turned back to look at him, his round eyes half-lidded now.
“Thanks.”
“Sure thing,” you said with a soft smile.
“No, I mean for like. Everything."
You felt your heart flutter again; the sight of your best friend, still naked, in his afterglow, all shy with you like you were his 7th-grade crush had you fighting a smile.
"Yeah. Of course."
You turned around to pick up your clothes from the floor and slowly slid your shorts back on. Behind you, you could hear Jungkook shuffling around, putting his own hoodie and sweats back on.
When the two of you were sorted out, you sat back down on the couch next to him, and he patted his chest, repositioning the pillow onto his left pec for you. You laughed and lay back down against him, as if nothing had ever happened tonight.
But the air felt different; the apartment felt a little warmer; the slight scent of sweat and sex dotted the air. The softness of Jungkook's hoodie sleeve soothed your skin as he casually wrapped his arm around your shoulder felt like more than just two friends getting comfortable.
"Another episode?" you hummed.
Jungkook laughed, his hand coming up to pet your head gently.
"Yeah. Let's do it."
"So you admit you like the show," you teased.
Jungkook looked down at you, a warm smile on his face.
"It's growing on me."
As the next episode began to play, you could sense Jungkook's nerves as he settled his arm back around you, the same as he always did. But a new meaning hid behind every stroke of his thumb lazily over your T-shirt, every flicker of his eyes in your direction. It wasn't long before he poked you in the shoulder, and you looked up at him, a cautious smile on his face.
"I should probably be practicing my new skills so as not to forget them. There's a lot more I want to get better at, too."
Your eyes widened as you smacked him on the chest. He reciprocated with a giggly laugh.
"Watch it."
He raised his hands playfully in surrender.
"Okay, okay, I'm watching it."
You turned your head back to the TV, and you felt him trace small circles on your shoulder before he leaned in, grazing his lips over your ear to whisper.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
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You’re still twitching when he pulls out, cock shiny and heavy, and the second he sees the way your cunt gapes and drips he whines.
“Nooo… don’t close up,” he breathes, voice high and cracked.
He pushes your thighs open harder, almost frantic, and shoves his face back in like he’s been denied for days.
“Gimme—fuck, gimme it. Still so wet, still so fucking open—”
He’s loud about it. Wet, sloppy, desperate sounds. He doesn’t lick clean. He devours. Tongue flat and greedy, dragging through every drop, then shoving deep so his nose is crushed against your clit.
He grunts into you, low and animal, hips twitching against the mattress like he can’t help it.
“Mmmh— ngh— tastes so fucking good, baby… can’t stop—”
You’re already moaning, open-mouthed and shameless, and it only makes him worse.
“Oh my god— Jungkook— fuck— right there, don’t stop, don’t you fucking stop—”
He answers with a broken little sound, almost a sob, and starts fucking his tongue into you properly. Messy. Loud. Spit and slick everywhere.
He’s not neat about it. He’s starving. Every time you clench he groans like it hurts, like the squeeze of your pussy is too good and he needs more of it now.
“Talk to me,” he begs against your cunt, voice wrecked and whiny. “Tell me how it feels. Tell me you like it when I’m like this—”
“I do— ah— fuck, I love it, you sound so desperate, you’re so fucking messy, Jungkook—” Your voice cracks on a moan when he seals his mouth over your clit and sucks. “Yes— yes, just like that, eat it, baby, eat it—”
He does. Messier. Hungrier. Two fingers shove in without warning, curling hard, and he starts finger-fucking you while he tongues your clit, wet sounds so filthy it’s almost embarrassing.
His other hand is gripping your thigh so tight his fingers dig in, holding you open like he’s scared you’ll take it away.
“So good— ngh— so fucking good, can’t think, can’t stop—” He’s panting into you between every lick, every filthy suck.
“Gonna stay here all night. Gonna keep you dripping so I can keep tasting it. My pussy. Mine to ruin. Mine to get drunk on—”
You’re louder now, almost sobbing with it.
“Fuck— Jungkook— I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come on your tongue, don’t stop, please don’t stop—”
He whines at the please, high and needy, and doubles down. Tongue, fingers, lips, all of it. Sloppy. Greedy. Completely gone.
When you finally break, thighs shaking around his head, he doesn’t pull away.
He keeps going through it, moaning into your orgasm like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted, like he needs every pulse of it.
Only when you’re oversensitive and gasping does he finally lift his head.
His mouth is destroyed. Chin shiny. Lips swollen. Eyes glassy and dark.
He looks up at you like he’s high.
“More,” he whispers, already crawling up your body, cock heavy and leaking against your thigh.
pairing : idol!kim taehyung x reader
rating : nsfw
warnings: friends with benefits, miscommunication/lack of communication, mutual pining, angst, mentions of anxiety, sexual descriptions
wc : 7.7k (edited)
Each thrust sent a message to her.
Taehyung knew she wouldn’t be able to decipher them, but that didn’t matter. He just needed her to feel it.
I hate you. Thrust.
I hate how you make me feel. Thrust.
I hate how you make me act. Thrust.
I wish I never met you. Thrust.
Taehyung hated how shameless Y/N was. How she smiled right in his face as she introduced the guy she was with as her “friend”. How she introduced him to the guy as her “acquaintance”. How she strutted out, hand in hand with the so-called friend, giggling and swaying.
He hated how wrapped around her finger he was, and how she knew it. He was up at two in the morning when he got her text.
Are u up?
He opened it embarrassingly fast, just like Y/N knew he would. He cursed himself for being so pathetic — and so obvious about it. His fingers hovered over the keyboard, debating whether he should answer. To his surprise, the three-dot bubble appeared before he could type.
come over
And like a dog following a command, he did. Her skin was cool and she smelled like her signature cocoa body wash. She was fresh out of the shower. Theories swirled in his head, but the loudest one was that she’d fucked the guy, hated it, showered, and invited him over. It was the most plausible. Taehyung knew he could just ask her, she’d be forthcoming, but he didn’t want to have his mood dampened more than it already was.
I hate how you smirk whenever I come around. Thrust.
I hate how you leave me on read for days and I answer in seconds. Thrust.
I hate that I have to fight for your attention. Thrust.
I hate that I’m just another one in your roster. Thrust.
Her face was in the pillow, eyes shut and jaw slacked as she moaned. Her fingers gripped the sheets and her back was beautifully arched. Normally, he’d be mesmerised by the sight. Tonight, it only irked him. And to think another man had likely had her in this very position only hours ago.
When she came, her legs trembled as she squeezed him—milked him was probably the more appropriate description.
When he came, his body shivered as he forced himself out to spill all over her lower back.
Sweaty, out of breath, but satisfied, he plopped down beside her, his gaze fixed on the ceiling.
Taehyung refused to look at her. He didn’t look at her when she went to the bathroom. His chest tightened when he heard the shower run.
It was like time had sped up; Y/N was beside him again in a flash, snuggling against him. Her chin rested on his pec, her big, bright eyes staring at him, that fucking smirk on her alluring face.
“You didn’t join me in the shower,” she said, feigning a pout.
Taehyung’s expression remained neutral. There was no grin, no smile like she’d expected. There was a coldness she wasn’t used to. Her face dropped.
“What’s wrong?” Y/N asked.
He shook his head, still refusing to look at her. She held his chin and turned him towards her. Looking into his eyes, she caught something she hadn’t expected: sadness.
“Taehyung, did something happen?”
It wasn’t unusual for the stress of his career and lifestyle to take a toll on him. Y/N didn’t mind comforting him in times like this. She pecked his lips and smiled softly at him as though to say, “It will be alright.” It wasn’t much, but it usually helped.
Y/N was kind. He could tell from the pieces of herself she’d allowed him to see in their limited time together. She was smart, wise too, always gave him good advice whenever he shared his troubles with her. Taehyung had always been open. He wore his heart on his sleeve and never faulted her for not doing the same—until now.
“Was that guy really your friend?”
Y/N’s brows furrowed. A teasing smile slowly spread on her lips before she breathed out a laugh.
“Yes…” It sounded like a question. “Why? What’s up?”
“I’m just an acquaintance," he said bitterly. His tone wiped the smile off her face. She sat up with her expression growing firmer.
“Did you want me to tell him we’re fuck buddies?”
“At least a friend,” he retorted.
“But we aren’t friends.” It felt like a slap, delivered without a thought for how it might make him feel. Y/N was confused, however, at the shock on his face. They only slept together, barely even talked outside of their arrangement, and somehow he saw that as friendship?
“I thought we were,” he said quietly, almost ashamed of his naivety.
“I mean, what difference does it make, really?”
Taehyung didn't know how to respond. He stayed quiet as Y/N looked at him expectantly.
“Are you also fucking him?” The burning question came out of him.
“Yeah…” She squinted her eyes. “But you know this.”
“No, I don’t,” he exclaimed, sitting up as well.
“We literally discussed this when this whole thing started. You’re also fucking other girls.”
“I’m not!”
Tension brewed in the silence. It dawned on Y/N that Taehyung was feeling something that she wasn’t. This didn’t feel like it was about “friendship”. It felt deeper than that.
“So?” she asked. Y/N didn’t know why or what exactly she wanted to know, but that was the only question she thought to ask.
Taehyung’s heart began to race as the lethal confession sat on the tip of his tongue. It could make or break what they had, and every part of him ached to let it out.
“It’s not serious, Taehyung,” Y/N sighed. The crestfallen look on his face filled her with guilt. Her eyes shifted nervously, avoiding him. “We’re just friends. We occasionally sleep with each other but we’ve known each other for years.”
She didn’t know why she felt the need to explain herself. Pity, maybe?
“Was he here tonight?”
Y/N turned away. “Yeah.”
His heart was ready to burst out of his chest.
“You fucked him and then texted me?” Taehyung’s voice trembled. Y/N couldn’t tell if it was in anger or sadness, but she nodded. “You’re fucking disgusting.”
Her eyes widened as she watched him angrily gather his clothes.
“Oh, don’t give me that,” she spat. “It’s not my fault you stopped fucking around. We both agreed to this. You knew about this!”
“Yeah, I knew we weren’t exclusive, but I thought you’d at least have the decency to not fucking call me right after another one of your boy toys came around,” he shot back.
“Okay, fine! I’m sorry.”
He paused, looking at her incredulously.
“What?” she whined. “Look, I won’t do that again. I’m genuinely sorry.”
He shook his head, leaving her bedroom.
“Taehyung!” she called out, following him. “Hey!”
He finally turned around. Disgust and disdain marred his features.
“Do you wanna end this then?” Y/N asked. Her indifference stung him, and her impossible question stunned him.
“What?”
“Clearly, you’re very upset at the situation. And it looks like we’re not on the same page anymore…” she paused. “Do you want to end this?”
The air felt heavy in his lungs as his breath stalled.
“Are you fucking serious?” he said with a strained voice.
“Yes.” She crossed her arms. “If you’re gonna act all butthurt over this, then we might as well.”
“I—” he stopped. His eyes stung. The lump in his throat grew.
Y/N was kind. He knew she was, but clearly that kindness was reserved for her friends.
“I just need some time,” he managed to get out. Y/N watched as his eyes glossed over. She clenched her fists, letting her long nails pierce her palms.
She shook her head. “No. Tell me now.”
They stared at each other. Their eyes said everything they wouldn’t say aloud.
“You’re going on tour, Taehyung,” she reminded him. “I need an answer now.”
“Fine.” He looked away. “I don’t want to end this.” He could feel the last shred of his dignity dwindling as she smiled at him.
Her arms reached up and wrapped around his neck. He hesitated before holding her as well. He wanted nothing more than to leave her embrace. When she pressed her lips to his, he wanted nothing more than to turn his head. Let her feel the sting he felt. Hurt her with the same rejection she gave him. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it.
“Sleep over?”
Y/N didn’t wait for a response before taking his hand and guiding him back into her bed. Taehyung stayed awake long after Y/N had fallen asleep. The ease with which she moved past what he couldn’t stop dwelling on hurt him. As long as she was satisfied, fuck whatever he was feeling.
The next day, Taehyung left at first light. He looked down at Y/N’s peaceful face right after he got up. His stomach twisted, thinking of how callous she’d been toward him the night before.
The drive home felt shameful. He got ready to leave for the airport, looking solemn as the media photographed him and the members. As soon as they got on the plane, he lay down and closed his eyes to avoid questions on his moodiness. Right before he put his phone on airplane mode, two texts came in.
Have a safe flight
Can’t wait to watch u in Paris ;)
He frowned. Paris? Had she ever mentioned that? He groaned, catching Namjoon’s attention.
“Hey, everything okay?” Namjoon asked, eyeing his friend.
“Yeah,” he responded, unconvincingly. He decided not to answer and put his phone on airplane mode.
Taehyung wasn’t sure he was in the mood to see Y/N anytime soon. At that moment, he wondered if it was better to just cut her off completely. At the same time, he knew it wouldn’t be fair, especially since he hadn’t been open to her about his feelings. He hoped the time apart would give him some clarity, maybe even some peace, but the thought of seeing her in a couple of weeks just filled him with anxiety.
ꨄ︎
Y/N, on the other hand, felt her conscience weighing heavily on her. She had perfected the art of keeping things uncomplicated. A rotation of noncommittal men she could call when she wanted company and leave alone when she didn’t. All of them on the same page, with the same goals. It was perfect. Only, it seemed that Taehyung — one of her favourites — wasn’t satisfied with the arrangement anymore.
She sipped her tea, scrolling through social media. BTS’s departure was trending, and she scrolled through the videos of Taehyung and his bandmates. He looked… gloomy. She hoped he wasn’t still hung up on what had happened the previous night. And she sure as hell hoped that he wasn’t upset with her.
She opened her messages to see that Taehyung had left her on read. She raised a brow as she stared at her screen. So he was upset…
She had meant to tell him that she was going to France for a girl’s trip and that Paris was one of their many stops. She deliberately planned it to overlap with their concerts so she could watch him perform in person for the first time. Maybe get a little alone time in the City of Love too. To her surprise, he wasn’t next to her when she woke. No note or text, so she figured he was in a hurry for the hectic day of travel ahead of him. So she’d sent the text. Very unlike her. The fact that he didn’t even acknowledge her efforts reminded her of why she never went beyond the booty call.
A week passed without a word from Taehyung. He was busy, and there was a time difference, so Y/N tried not to give it much thought. She’d reach out once she got to Paris and figure out when they could see each other. She’d watched clips from some of their other performances and had to admit she was excited to experience that atmosphere for herself. They were incredible performers, and Taehyung, in particular, had an unmatched stage presence. More often than not, she found herself biting her lip and squeezing her thighs while watching him.
She spent much of that week with her friend, Ricky. He was a foreigner like her and one of the first people she’d met when she moved to Korea. They’d met at an expat event she’d attended in hopes of making friends. He’d moved to Seoul a year earlier and already had a decent understanding of how things worked there. They got to talking, and he’d been kind enough to help her find her footing in the city. They’d tried dating for a few months before deciding they were much better as friends. The sex was too good to give up, though.
Ricky was her confidant. Y/N told him anything and everything. She loved the friends she’d made in Korea, but Ricky was different. She truly loved him. He was one of the few people who understood her and stayed anyway. As she rested her head on his lap, his fingers stroked her hair. She ranted about her job, her hobbies, her dates, her adventures. She even told him about the little clash she’d had with Taehyung.
“We’ve already paid for some of the activities in Paris and Nice, so I’m really excited,” Y/N said.
“How about the concert?” Ricky asked.
“I have a ticket for Day 2. The girls aren’t too interested, though.” She pouted. “But I did tell them not to wait up for me that night,” she added with a giggle.
“Has he gotten back to you yet?”
“No, but I guess he’s really busy.”
“Too busy to send a single text after a whole week?”
Y/N sighed.
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “But if he didn’t want me to go, I’m sure he’d tell me.”
“Would he?”
She frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Well…” he paused with a sigh. “From what you told me, he was really upset when you offered to end things between you. You said yourself that you think he might actually like you. Don’t you think maybe he’s hurt? That he’s not answering because he doesn’t want to see you?”
“If that’s the case, then he can tell me. He’s a grown man who should be able to communicate,” she shot back, a bit more aggressively than intended.
“I’m just saying,” he said defensively. “If it were me, I’d have ended it the second you said that shit about me being ‘butthurt’. That was cold.”
“I know,” she groaned. “I don’t even know why I said that.”
“And why would you call him here after I left? That really is disgusting.” Y/N could always count on Ricky to be honest with her, even when it bothered her.
“You literally had to leave before I could even cum, you asshole,” she said, rolling her eyes.
“Oh yeah,” he chuckled. “My bad. I'll make sure to never leave you horny again. Maybe things like this won’t happen again.”
“That would be very nice. Thank you.” She smiled sarcastically.
“Anyway, I think you could try calling him. The last thing you want is to go there and he doesn’t even wanna see you,” he advised.
“True. Putting all this effort in for nothing…” she muttered.
“You were already going to Paris, so what effort was it really?” he scoffed.
“I had to line up the dates and go to fucking war for that damn ticket.”
“A ticket that would’ve been free if you had just asked him, but go on…”
“Well, then it wouldn’t be a surprise anymore, would it?”
“Why do you even care?”
She paused, then shrugged. “I thought it would be nice.”
“Since when do you do nice things for men?” he teased.
“I do plenty of nice things for you,” she gasped.
“Yes. Me. Your friend… Not some guy you happen to fuck. Your so-called acquaintance.”
“You’re annoying.”
“Someone’s got to give it to you straight. I think you like him more than you’re willing to let on,” he said.
“Well duh… Why the hell else would I do all this?”
“Then why are you punishing him for liking you too?” His question made Y/N sit up. She stared at him.
“I don’t think I like him like that,” she admitted. She avoided his gaze, her voice dropping to a whisper. She wasn’t lying, but she also felt that she wasn’t telling the full truth.
“If he told you he liked you and wanted more, what would you say?”
“I’d end it.”
Y/N didn’t hesitate.
Ricky stared at her for a moment before pulling her into a hug. Y/N wasn’t entirely sure why.
“Let’s go eat,” Ricky said. Y/N nodded.
ꨄ︎
The stage was Taehyung’s haven. It wasn’t until he returned to the stage after his military service that he realised just how much he’d missed it. The singing. The dancing. His brothers. Their fans. It was healing, in a way. To travel the world and have millions of people follow along. To hear thousands of voices sing his words back to him as though they’d always belonged to them. There was nothing better than this.
Taehyung had managed not to think too much about the text Y/N had sent him. The chaos of life on tour gave him the refuge he needed from the sour situation between them. At first, he struggled to not respond. Then, as her silence stretched on, he struggled to not reach out. His saving grace was how little free time and how rarely he was alone long enough to think about her.
As Paris drew closer, he found himself thinking more about Y/N and whether they’d actually see each other. A week and a half had passed without any communication between them. That kind of silence was normal for her, but not for him. What if she interpreted his silence as rejection? Would she still come? Should he ask her about it?
He was too proud and still too hurt to reach out first. Maybe all those times he’d been the one to reach out had taught her that she could ignore him and he’d come back anyway. No. He wanted her to be the one to reach out first. Still, he wondered if she would. She’d been willing to cut him off so easily before.
“Taehyungie!” Hoseok called. Rehearsal was nearly over and Taehyung had zoned out again, his thoughts drifting back to Y/N.
“Yeah?” He looked up to find everyone staring at him. “Sorry, what did you say?”
“We were asking if anyone wanted to practice anything else before we wrap up,” Namjoon said.
“Oh, no, I’m good.”
As everyone dispersed, Namjoon fell into step beside Taehyung.
“Yah! Taehyung, what’s going on with you?” Namjoon asked.
“Nothing…”
“Are you sure? You seem very out of it today.” Namjoon’s gaze swept over Taehyung’s tense frame. “Is it that girl?”
The members knew about Y/N, and they knew something had happened between the two of them. It wasn’t hard to put two and two together but none of them wanted to push him before he was ready.
Unable to lie, he sighed. “Yes, we’re just going through some things at the moment, but we’ll be fine.”
“Good. But if you need some space to clear your head, take it.” It wasn’t much, but Namjoon didn’t know enough to offer anything more specific. Taehyung appreciated the concern anyway.
Taehyung nodded and followed the other out of the rehearsal room.
Landing in Paris felt like arriving for his sentencing. The sheer chaos of fans following them was an unpleasant contrast to the other stops. It only made the knot in his stomach tighten.
Taehyung found himself checking his phone constantly throughout the first day. Every event and appearances on his schedule felt like another nuisance keeping him from the one thing on his mind. His mind was constantly elsewhere. He jumped every time his phone vibrated in his pocket, and his hands gripped the phone tightly whenever he unlocked the screen. Every now and then, he found himself rereading old texts. He hated that she made him feel like this, but he was still scared and unwilling to let her go. He wouldn’t go so far as to say he loved her, but it felt close to it.
He jumped when his phone chimed with a new message. He was in the car with his team, returning from dinner after a fashion event. The day had dragged on, but spending time with his team had distracted him for a couple of hours. He noticed the concerned glances being thrown his way. He felt guilty that he couldn’t hide it better. More than anything, he just wanted to put the situation with Y/N to rest. He knew ending it with Y/N would likely just make his mood worse, even though part of him felt it had to be done. To him, it was obvious she didn’t care, and he was clinging to something that wasn’t there.
When he reached his hotel room, he didn’t want to look at his phone. He wanted to believe that it was just another random notification as the past ones had been. But he couldn’t resist. Cursing himself for his weakness, he unlocked his phone to find not one, not two, but four texts from Y/N.
Hey superstar, guess who’s in Paris
Can't wait to see u perform xx
Already shaking with excitement haha
PS: you guys better play pied piper on day 2
Taehyung let out a shaky breath as he reread those texts. She’d actually done it. She’d reached out first, but now he didn’t know what to do. He wasn't ready to confront her. Not with two shows ahead of him and his concentration already hanging by a thread.
As they prepared for Day 1, he was distracted and making more mistakes than usual. The concert wasn’t much better. There were moments when he was fully immersed in the performance, but every now and then he’d look into the crowd and swear he saw Y/N face, only to realise it was someone else. He wasn’t as high-energy as he wanted to be and he knew the people who’d come to see him deserved better.
Later, alone in his hotel room, he stared at the four unanswered messages. Then he blocked her number.
Maybe then he could get his head straight and do his job properly. He tossed and turned,itching to unblock her and beg for forgiveness. Part of him hoped she hadn’t even noticed. Another part couldn’t stop wondering what it would mean if she had— and still didn’t try to reach him another way.
ꨄ︎
The European heat was no joke, but she’d missed it. The weather, the atmosphere, the familiarity of a place she’d once called home.Since moving so far away, she’d only been able to see her girls on big trips like this. She felt the particular lightness that only seemed to come at the beginning of a holiday, excitement brewing as everyday stress evaporated. The first thing she did after turning off airplane mode, before even reaching baggage claim, was text Taehyung. No doubt he’d love that. He was a bit of a romantic, so she was sure he’d come up with something cute for them to do in the city.
She took a deep breath. She couldn’t wipe the smile off her face.
Her two girlfriends, Kia and Tami, already lived in Europe and had arrived in France before her. When she stepped through the arrival doors, theirs were the first faces she saw. The moment they spotted each other, all three burst into screams and raced across the arrivals hall.
“Girl, are you crying?” Y/N asked when she felt tears dampen her shoulder.
“Of course I’m crying! I’ve missed you.” Kia tightened her arms around her. She’d always been the sentimental one of the trio.
“You better quit that ‘cause we have hot girl summer shit to do,” Tami said. The trio erupted into cheer, bouncing excitedly together.
The trio dropped their belongings at the apartment they’d rented for their four-day stay in Paris. They immediately hit the Parisian streets. The girls wandered from the Place de la Concorde, along the Champs-Élysées, to the Arc de Triumphe, happily taking in the sights. Laughing, chatting, living. As the day came to an end, Y/N found herself growing impatient with Taehyung’s lack of response. He has a concert tomorrow night. He’s probably just busy preparing.
The girls went to dinner, dressed to the nines, ready for a glamorous night out. Y/N checked her phone throughout dinner. As they chatted, she’d sneak glances at her phone before ultimately turning it face down so she wouldn’t be tempted to check again.
“Maybe you should try calling him,” Kia suggested after catching Y/N checking her phone for what had to be the fifth time. They were walking down a crowded avenue, looking for a club for the night. Apparently, she wasn’t hiding her growing agitation as well as she’d thought.
“I don’t want to bother him,” Y/N said, putting her phone away.
“How are you gonna make plans if you don’t talk to him?” Tami added. “Go ahead and call him. We’ll wait for you.”
Y/N gave them a smile before stepping aside. To her surprise, it didn’t even ring. Frowning, she tried again.
Nothing.
Did he block me?
She opened her messages app and sent a text.
Hey Taehyung, what’s up?
Delivered. Her jaw dropped. An incredulous laugh escaped her before she made her way back to the girls.
“What happened?” Tami asked.
“I think he fucking blocked me.”
ꨄ︎
During soundcheck for Day 2, the guilt of blocking Y/N weighed heavily on Taehyung. He knew he had to do it to keep his head clear for a good performance, but he also knew that things between them had reached a point they’d never been at before. He didn’t know if they’d recover. At one point, as he was getting his hair and makeup done, he felt nauseous. The anxiety plagued him so badly that he finally gave in and unblocked her.
Her last message had been sitting there for two days.
Hey
It was the only thing he could think of sending. He stared at his screen, wondering if she’d respond or leave him on read as she regularly did.
I see you’ve unblocked me
Am I allowed to know why or should I just fuck off
Fuck. He hoped she wouldn’t answer while he was still surrounded by people. There was no way he could leave things like this and still focus on the show.
I’m sorry
Just couldn’t talk
Had a lot going on
The three-dot bubble appeared, and Taehyung went still. It seemed to hover forever, occasionally leaving and returning.
Okay, so then why block me? if I did something, fucking tell me
I made this plan to surprise u and u can’t even fucking answer me when I tell u I’m here
U didnt even answer the text I sent u when u left
If ur still pissed about that night, just lmk
I wont come to your concert and i’ll leave u tf alone
Jeez
Taehyung was somewhat stuck on the fact that she planned this. For him. Taehyung stared helplessly at the screen, his mind suddenly blank. He felt more nervous dealing with Y/N than he ever did onstage. She’d never been this expressive in her texts. Her annoyance seemed to bleed through every message. Six consecutive texts to really drive home the fact that she was pissed.
im sorry…i dont really have an excuse for blocking you
I do want you to come
Did he, though? There had been so much left unsaid when he’d left, and now he’d added blocking and unblocking her for no apparent reason— at least, from her point of view.
Clearly u have some shit going on and i dont wanna bother u anymore
Good luck tonight
Fuck, fuck, fuck! He didn’t want this to happen. Panic and regret flooded him as he scrambled over what to do next. Soon it would be showtime, so he decided to bite the bullet — and his pride— and call her.
Thankfully, she answered on the first ring.
“What do you want?” She sounded more annoyed than upset. He could hear noise in the background. Is she here? Is she leaving?
“Please come,” he answered.
“You clearly don’t want me to,” she retorted.
“I do!” The words came out louder than he’d intended. Several heads turned toward him. Flustered, he left the room to find somewhere private.
“I do want you to come, and I do want to see you.” His voice softened.
“Then why have you been ignoring me?” she asked. He sighed. He’d known she wouldn’t let him dodge that forever.
“Look, I’ve been going through a lot and I’ve been really overwhelmed. I’m sorry I took it out on you.”
Y/N didn’t answer immediately. In fact, had it not been for the noise in the background, he wouldn’t have known she was still on the line.
“Please,” he begged. “I really want to see you.”
“Do you really? You’re so overwhelmed. Are you sure I won’t just make it worse?” She was throwing his words back in his face, and though it stung, he knew he deserved it.
“I do. And afterwards we can go out—”
“I don’t think I wanna go out with you, Taehyung.” He felt his heart stop.
“W-why?”
“Do you really think we’ll be able to just go on like nothing happened after all this? There’s a shit ton of things we clearly need to talk about.”
“Y-yes. I mean…yeah… um…”
“We can go to your hotel or mine. I think it’s time we clear the air between us.”
“Yes! Yeah, absolutely. Thank you.”
His shoulders dropped as relief washed over him.
“Yeah, sure. Good luck,” she muttered.
“Thanks.”
When she hung up, Taehyung kept the phone pressed to his ear for a few more seconds. It was as though he could somehow hold onto the sound of her voice a little longer. He missed it. Just like that, whatever defenses he’d built over the past couple of weeks crumbled completely.
ꨄ︎
“You’re staying?” Kia asked incredulously over the phone. “He literally blocked you.”
“I know.” Y/N sighed, rubbing her forehead. What the hell am I even doing? “We talked and he asked me to stay.”
Kia went silent. Y/N could practically picture her turning to stare at Tami. “So, you’ll just stay? Just like that?”
“Yeah. He apologised and asked me to.”
“Oh. Wow. That’s new,” Tami said.
“What?”
“Didn’t you say he was just some guy you were messing around with? Why are you so invested? Just move on.”
“I— look, he’s a nice person, okay? And I genuinely did mess up,” Y/N explained.
“So? What makes this guy so much better? Is it ‘cause he’s a singer?” Tami teased.
“No… He’s… uh… Look, I have the ticket already, and I’m here, so might as well.” She shrugged, even though they couldn’t see her.
“Alrighty then, you do you, I guess.”
“Have fun, babe,” Kia added.
“Thanks. I’ll see you—”
“Tomorrow, probably,” Tami interrupted.
“I don’t know about that.”
“Well, let us know when you do,” Kia said. “Bye-bye.”
“Bye.”
Y/N exhaled deeply, shoved her phone into her bag, and followed the crowd into the arena. By sheer luck and determination, she’d managed to get a ticket for one of the sections closest to the stage. She’d been standing for three or so hours, but when she’d bought the ticket, it had seemed worth it. She wasn’t so sure about that decision anymore, but it wasn’t as though she could suddenly resell the ticket to some desperate fan, as she’d considered doing after discovering he’d blocked her.
The air was buzzing. It would’ve amused her had she not been irritated. The bodies pushing against her irritated her. So did the screams whenever a fan sign flashed on the big screen. The heat was worse, along with the smell of sweaty fans who’d clearly been at the venue far longer than she had.
The cheering got louder as the show began. She had a decent stop near the stage, one she’d chosen partly in the hope that Taehyung might see her. At the moment though, she wasn’t sure she cared. The group came out with their dancers, oozing with charisma as they launched into the first song of the set. Taehyung was energetic. His aura was captivating. Y/N suppressed her grin whenever he came on screen. His deep voice was thrilling in a way that she’d never fully appreciated before. She found herself cheering and singing along.
She noticed that whenever he went to a new part of the stage, he’d linger for a bit, his gaze sweeping through the crowd. He was looking for her. She could tell. He’d come over to her side a couple of times, but his gaze always seemed to miss her, no matter how loudly she screamed or waved.
By the first break, she was fully immersed, chatting and dancing with the girls around her. By the time they returned, she'd been fully indoctrinated. During Idol, the members left the main stage and made their way around the perimeter of the arena. As they passed her side of the stage, she mustered the loudest scream she could.
When their eyes met, Y/N couldn’t help but smile. His eyes softened as they shifted to the lightstick she held. She probably looked like another fan in the crowd. His smile widened, and a sudden surge of energy seemed to run through him. He began jumping to the sound of the music as they made their way around the perimeter of the 360 stage. Y/N’s couldn’t tear her eyes from him as he passed.
Y/N had never been in the front section at a concert before. She was lucky she’d managed to find the ticket at all. She didn’t even mind that it had damn near cost an arm and a leg. It felt worth it.
As the members returned to the stage, Y/N was in awe of the performance, the energy, the atmosphere, all of it. It was overwhelming in the best way possible. She jumped and sang along, smiling brightly as Taehyung occasionally ran to the side where she stood, giving her the best view. They seemed to dance and sing together. His sweat-soaked face was bright with a joy she’d never seen on him before. It was the first time she’d noticed just how joyful his smile could be.
The arena quieted down as they all waited with bated breath for the surprise song to start. Taehyung stood in front of her, breathing heavily with a knowing smile. Her eyes widened as the melody of Pied Piper began playing. She screamed along with the girls around her and Taehung laughed. He sang and danced to the music like he was performing it just for her. She cheered and belted out the lyrics like she wanted him to know how much she loved the song.
Y/N had never made it known how much she enjoyed BTS’s music. She was a casual listener, of course, but the energy at the concert pulled something out of her.
When the concert ended, a staff member approached her as she wandered around, wondering how she and Taehyung were supposed to meet.
“Hello, are you Y/N?” the woman asked, checking something on her phone.
Y/N nodded.
“Do you mind if I see some ID just to confirm?” The woman asked.
“Oh, yes.” Y/N pulled out her passport and handed it to the woman.
She nodded before handing it back. “Taehyung asked me to take you to the hotel. They still have a few things to do, and you probably wouldn’t be allowed in without one of us.”
“Oh, okay. Thanks.” Y/N followed the woman to a black car. The two sat in awkward silence during the drive, and Y/N caught the woman glancing at her from the corner of her eye more than once.
“I’ll let you into his room.” The woman guided Y/N through the lavish hotel halls. Her eyes wandered over everything. Once inside the sprawling room, Y/N wandered around slowly, suddenly self-conscious about how the situation must look from the woman’s perspective. “You can also order room service. Taehyung should be back in an hour.”
“Thank you,” Y/N said politely with a shy smile. The woman nodded before leaving Y/N in the room alone.
Nosy as she was, she snooped around. Running her hand over the soft comforter, smelling the expensive body wash, peeking inside the wardrobes.
What am I even gonna do for an hour? She plopped down on the massive bed. It was easily the most comfortable bed she’d ever been on. Her mind drifted toward less-than-savoury thoughts before the conversation waiting for her dragged it firmly back to reality.
She was dreading it, but she didn’t want this discomfort to linger. There were too many things neither had said aloud, and pretending otherwise had only made everything worse.
ꨄ︎
Taehyung felt energised. The anxiety that had plagued him before the concert had finally loosened its grip. His mind still drifted away during the meeting, a smile threatening to break out as whenever he thought of Y/N in the crowd. The members teased him as he blushed after being caught stifling a grin. In the car, he stared out of the window, his excitement mounting with every turn that brought him closer to Y/N. They were all happy to see Taehyung back to his former self, and as curious as they were, they refrained from asking questions.
He rushed up to his room but paused at the door. She was right there. So close, waiting for him. He drew in a deep breath before opening the door.
“Hey,” he breathed out.
She was sitting by the window with a pack of chips on her lap.
“Hey.” She smiled.
He smiled back sheepishly and slowly walked toward her. Sitting beside her on the windowsill, he met her gaze and for a moment they simply smiled at each other.
“What?” Y/N giggled.
“Nothing.”
She put a chip in her mouth. “You were cool tonight,” she said nonchalantly.
His smile widened.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“So nonchalant for someone whose forehead vein was about to pop from all that screaming,” he teased, taking a chip from her pack.
“Taehyung!” she gasped, shoving him lightly as he threw his head back and cackled.
“Thanks for coming,” he said when he calmed down.
“I mean it though, you guys were amazing.”
“I’m glad you thought so. And really, thanks for coming. I’m sorry for not being more…uh—”
“Communicative? Forthcoming? Considerate?” she interjected, still munching on her chips.
“Yeah. All of that.” He averted his gaze as he fidgeted with his fingers.
“I’m not sure I forgive you.” Her tone grew serious. “Are you gonna tell me why you blocked me?”
“I don’t know.” He sighed, still avoiding her eyes. He swallowed before continuing, “I was just really pissed about that night, and when you said you were coming, I got really anxious, so—”
“So you blocked me? Why not just tell me not to come?”
“Because I didn’t want to end things, okay?” He finally turned to look at her confused expression.
“Why would I end things over that?”
“You literally wanted to end it that night.”
“No, I asked you if you wanted to end it.”
“And I was hurt by that!” he burst out.
“I truly am sorry, Taehyung. I genuinely didn’t know that it would hurt you that much.” She placed her hand on Taehyung’s.
“I mean, it wasn’t just that.” Taehyung hesitated. “It’s this whole thing. I didn’t like being called an acquaintance to the guy you also happen to be sleeping with. I don’t like the fact that you’re sleeping with other guys, period.”
“But we —”
“I know, Y/N, we agreed on this, but…” He paused to let out a deep breath and muster up the courage to continue. “I really like you. And seeing you at the concert today…” He smiled. “It was out of this world. I loved seeing you in the crowd cheering for me, supporting me.”
It was Y/N’s turn to look away.
“I want more than what we have.”
“Taehyung…” She closed her eyes.
“And I know that I haven’t gone about this the right way. I know I should’ve talked to you about it instead of treating you like shit, but I was scared.” His eyes searched her face, but the pain he found there made his chest tighten. He tightened his hold on her hand. “I want us to be… exclusive. Just the two of us, no one else.”
“Taehyung, I can’t,” she whispered.
“Why not? I know you like me, Y/N. You wouldn’t have done all this for me if you didn’t. You care about me too.”
“I do, Taehyung, but I just… I don’t have it in me to be in a relationship right now,” she admitted.
“Why not, Y/N? Is it the other guys?”
“No. I just can’t.”
ꨄ︎
Taehyung’s eyes filled with tears as he turned away. The knot in her stomach tightened.
They’d been so good for so long. Why did he have to go and do this? The better Y/N understood his pain, the guilier he felt, but guilt wasn’t enough to make her agree to something she wasn’t ready for. She’d grown so accustomed to her lifestyle that she didn’t want the complexity of an official relationship. She didn’t think she had the emotional bandwidth for it.
“Maybe we should end this, Taehyung,” she muttered. She clenched her jaw, feeling her eyes sting. She was uncomfortable with how much Taehyung affected her. She felt exposed in a way she hadn’t chosen to be.
“No. If you truly wanted that, you’d be out of here already.” He stared firmly at her. “Please tell me why you won’t even give it a try. If you didn’t want this at all, you wouldn’t care. You wouldn't have texted me first, you wouldn’t have been pissed when I blocked you, you wouldn’t have stayed for the concert, and you sure as hell wouldn’t have come here.” She remained silent, still looking out the window.
“If you want to end this, fine. But at least be fucking honest with me.”
“I don’t want to end anything, Taehyung,” Y/N cried. Her head ached as she fought to keep the stubborn tears from falling. She wanted to leave, but her body stayed put. “I don’t know what the fuck I want. I’m sorry for everything, but I…” She paused to run her hands over her face. “I don’t know, okay? I just don’t.”
“I won’t hurt you,” he said.
Y/N turned to him, letting him see her reddening eyes. He placed a hand on her cheek.
“If that’s what you’re scared of, I won’t. Not intentionally, at least.”
“It’s not that simple.” She shook her head.
“I know. Feelings aren’t simple. People aren’t simple. But we can try and do all this not-simple shit together.” He smiled softly. “You don’t need to give me an answer today, or tomorrow. Think about it.”
“Thanks.” A tear rolled down her cheek, andTaehyung gently wiped it away.
“Can I kiss you?” he asked.
“Yeah, I’d like that,” she croaked. He breathed out a soft laugh before leaning in and kissing her.
“We still have a lot to talk about, though,” he said against her lips.
“I know.”
Taehyung pulled her away from the sill and guided her onto the bed.
“Don’t you need to shower?” Y/N asked as they settled down.
“Nope.”
“Well I do. You guys had me sweating like a whore in church.” She pushed him away as he laughed.
“I don’t have any PJs, though, so I’ll need a T-shirt.” She scanned Taehyung’s wardrobe.
“Or we can just go commando.” He bit his lip and waggled his eyebrows.
“You’re horny after all that?” she asked, pointing at the window.
“I’m always horny for you, babe,” he said, prompting a chuckle out of Y/N. “I’ve had nothing for two weeks now. Not even my hand.”
“Oh wow, how noble of you,” she teased.
She made her way to the bathroom, stripping her clothes and leaving them in a trail along the way.
“I’m planning on sleeping once I hit that bed, so…” she trailed off. She put her hair in a bun and got into the massive shower. Taehyung appeared behind her with a grin and no clothes on. The water cascaded onto them.
Their bodies were connected in every way as they sought out their relief in each other. Tongues and teeth clashing, Y/N’s legs wrapped around Taehyung’s lean waist, her back pressed against the wall as he held firmly onto her. They moaned and grunted against each other’s mouths, with a passion they didn’t quite recognise. It felt like they were making promises to each other. It was a conversation their bodies hoped their hearts would understand.
In bed, their legs were intertwined as they held one another close, stilling kisses whenever they could. For the first time in weeks, the anxiety between them had quieted. Nothing had been decided. Y/N didn’t have an answer for him, and Taehyung still had questions she couldn’t answer. But for one, neither of them was pretending there was nothing to say.
pairing: student! fem reader x student! jeon jungkook
summary: when you finally get your crush’s number, you expect the start of an epic love story— not a random guy making fun of you because he thinks the guy you’ve been obsessed with for the last six months gave you a fake number. Jeon Jungkook, the one who replies, finds it entertaining and helps you chase the guy… at least until he finds out that the person he’s been helping date another guy is you, the girl he’s been obsessed with for the last two years.
genre/warning: this is a smau fic!! with narration included in some chapter but it’s mostly messages/tweets. very unfunny jokes. this is mostly crack/fluff.
authors note: ngl i need to go back to edit shit like before (making shorter chapters) cause why is this taking so much of my time 😭😭 i swear im tireddd editing really takes hoursss of my life i need a gun immediately// anyway have fun!! ^_^ pro abortion<33
chapter index | previous — next
— chapter ten: ramen and sleepover!
see how i changed jungkook’s name now 😍 with preference pfp and everything yall she’s starting to like him (as a friend LMAOO) and FINALLY a real win for jungkook 🙏🏼
( 𝓟𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐈𝐍 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐊𝐄 ) 𝗷𝘂𝗻𝗴𝗸𝗼𝗼𝗸 𝘅 𝗳𝗲𝗺!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿. ˖Ი𐑼⋆ nsfw +++ mdni. when life doesn't give you a protein shake, eat out your girlfriend instead.
it started under the completely logical guise of post-workout nutrition.
JUNGKOOK had just finished an intense, two-hour lifting session in his home gym. he walked into the kitchen shirtless, sweat still glistening on his chest and tracing down the hard lines of his abs, only to discover the absolute tragedy waiting for him in the pantry: his giant tub of protein powder was completely empty.
he let out a sigh, slamming the cabinet shut. "babe, i'm out of protein. my muscles are going to atrophy."
you rolled your eyes from where you were sitting on the kitchen counter, casually scrolling through your phone while eating cherries you just washed. "you'll live, kook. just eat some eggs."
jungkook walked over to you, taking in the sight of you sitting there, your legs swinging slightly. he didn't look like a guy thinking about eggs, more like a predator who had just spotted a much better meal.
stepping closer between your thighs, crowding you with his massive body, his hands came down to grip the edge of the counter on either side of your hips, locking you in place. the scent of sweat and pure testosterone instantly made your head spin.
"no," jungkook murmured, his voice dropping low, "eggs take too long. i need immediate hydration. i'm thirsty. parched, actually."
you raised an eyebrow, a confused smile tugging at your lips despite the sudden spike of heat in your stomach. "thirsty? so go drink some water from the fridge, you dummy."
"water won't fix this," his eyes dropping deliberately to the slit of your shorts. he was serious, because this was a medical emergency and not just him being a completely horny and pussydrunk addict. "i need a specific kind of fluid, and you're sitting right here, just hogging all the resources."
before you could even laugh at his ridiculous reasoning, jungkook’s hands shifted from the counter to the undersides of your thighs. with one effortless pull, he dragged you right to the edge of the marble, parting your legs wide. he dropped to his knees between your thighs without a single shred of hesitation.
"kook–"
your breath hitched, a soft gasp escaping your lips as his fingers hooked into the waist of your underwear, pulling the fabric aside. the cool air hit your bare skin, but it was immediately replaced by the warmth of his breath.
jungkook didn't ease into it. he was a man on a mission, drunk on the sight of you. he pressed his face right into your cunt, his tongue darting out in one long, wet stroke from the very bottom of your opening all the way up to your clit. you arched off the counter, your fingers immediately flying to his hair, clutching the dark strands as a needy whine tore from your throat.
he let out a muffled grunt of satisfaction against your wet skin, his hands gripping your thighs so tightly. using his tongue like a man trying to catch every single drop of water in a desert: swallowing your whimpers, lapping at you with an intense rhythm that had your hips tilting helplessly into his mouth.
your boyfriend sucked on and toyed with you, drawing a wrecked sob from your lips as your thighs began to tremble against his shoulders. jungkook just swirled his tongue faster, totally relentless, devouring you until you were entirely breathless and ruined on the kitchen counter.
when he finally pulled away, a very prideful and satisfied smirk stretched across his face as he looked up at your flushed expression, while he was covered in your essence. he swiped his thumb across his lower lip and licked the moisture off his skin while maintaining eye contact with you.
"see?" jungkook panted as he gulped everything down. "way better than a protein shake."
maybe you should hide his protein powder from now on, or not order it at all if that helps him more after a workout.
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pairing: fashion pr! fem reader x idol! kim seokjin
summary: It all started as a silly joke between friends. One harmless unimportant conversation, one name thrown into the mix, and one boring late-night search that should’ve ended after a single Instagram post and not in thousand of hours stalking a famous idol. Looking back, maybe your feminine intuition already knew that the story wouldn’t stop there… because once Kim Seokjin crossed your mind, it seemed impossible for the universe to keep him out of your life.
warning! ── reader is obsessively and stupidly in love makes you want to puke. mentions of stalking. mentions of anxiety. nonchalant jin era but not really. he’s very shy and cute. a real man. this is very much inspired by candace and jeremy’s relationship (phineas & ferb) — literally like she will gaslight you into thinking he doesn’t like her.
author’s note: okay so i had to delete the smut part because when i paste the story here i realized i reached the limit and i didn’t want to make it a two-part one shot (i do love the smut and the original final i wrote so if u ever wanna see it lmk) i hope u still fuck with it tho i’ve been really excited about this one and i really like how it turned out without the smut too so i hope u enjoy it:( HI guys let’s pretend is the first of august okay?? happy first of the month yay!!!!!!
word count: +20k words.
──── pretty sad for a girl so in love (series)
The first thing you noticed when you stepped into Mina’s apartment was that she had definitely invited more people than her dining table could fit.
There were already six pairs of shoes scattered by the front door, music playing quietly from a speaker somewhere in the living room, and at least three different conversations happening before you’d even taken your jacket off. Someone waved at you from the kitchen, another person you vaguely recognized from college smiled in your direction before going back to whatever story they were telling, and the smell of garlic and takeout filled the apartment.
“She’s here!” Mina called the second she spotted you. She was balancing two bowls in her hands, somehow managing not to drop either of them as she crossed the room. “Finally. I was about to tell everyone you bailed.”
“I said I’d be late,” you laughed, slipping your shoes off. “Some people have actual jobs.”
“So do I.”
“Then act like it,” you joked harshly. “I have you at 10am on a Wednesday asking me to bring ice cream. Sounds very unemployed to me.”
“It was an emergency.” You raised an eyebrow. “The convenience store only had one tub left and you know I need to host perfect hangouts, okay?”
“Yeah, I know you’re a control freak.”
“See?” Mina pointed at you before turning to the rest of the room. “She gets me.”
Haeun looked up from where she was sitting on the floor beside the coffee table, her legs crossed underneath her. “No,” she said, completely unimpressed. “She enables you.”
You laughed as you walked over, dropping onto the empty spot beside her before kissing her cheek.
“That’s what real love means,” Mina said like it was obvious.
“It’s definitely not what it means.” Haeun rolled her yes. Mina disappeared back into the kitchen, already distracted by someone asking where the serving spoons were. “You came empty-handed?” Haeun asked.
“I brought dessert.”
“Where?”
You reached into your tote bag and pulled out two tubs of ice cream, probably already melted. Mina immediately reappeared. “I KNEW I invited the right people.”
“You invited everyone,” you looked around to your friends who all raised an eyebrow. “What? It’s true, I love you guys but really I can’t believe everyone agreed to hangout a Wednesday night. Do you guys need a job or a reference? I can help you with…”
“This is why we leave early when you come to the hangouts.”
“Hey!”
“Agreed.”
An hour later, dinner had turned int a bit of a mess. Half the food and dessert were empty and every plate on the table was being shared whether the person who ordered it liked it or not. You’d barely managed to keep more than three fries on your own plate before Mina reached over to steal another one. She had always being a pain in the ass, specially the days you met her in college together with Haeun— at least the one was more generous and didn’t steal your fries.
“I don’t know why I even bother ordering food for myself.”
“You don’t,” she answered easily, popping the fry into her mouth. “You order food for the community.”
“The community can buy its own.”
“It could.”
“It should.”
“It won’t.” Haeun smiled into her drink. “You promised once you’d became rich you were always going to invite dinner.”
“I’m not rich, even Mina makes more money than me.”
“Doubtful,” your friend smiled.
“You manage the biggest singer in Korea right now, I know you’re making bank.” You pointed at her accusatory.
“I’ve never said I wasn’t making bank,” she said immediately. “I’m just saying probably not as much as you. You had been making big deals later.”
“That’s true,” Jiho said— another close friends of yours— suddenly everyone was having interest in the same conversation. He leaned back in his chair, “how’s work? The glamorous fashion world.”
You laughed. “Doesn’t feel glamorous at all. I spend more time looking at calendars than clothes.”
“What were you working on this week?” Haeun asked.
“A campaign for a luxury brand. I’m working now with some actor I’m not legally allowed to tell yet.”
Mina immediately leaned forward with interest. “I love hearing about celebrity gossip.”
“You literally work for IU. That’s the biggest it can get.”
“She’s too nice, she never reveals anything,” she pouted.
“Maybe because there’s no actual gossip going around,” you tried again.
“You work with more celebrities than me you have to have some.” She insisted.
“I work with their managers,” you corrected. “Literally I’m mostly coordinating schedules between the brand, photographers, stylists, management… making sure everyone’s available on the same day.”
“That sounds significantly less fun.” One of your other friends said. “I thought you just picked pretty outfits.”
“I wish.”
“You don’t even get free clothes?”
“I get emails.”
“I’d rather have the clothes.”
“So would I,” you sighed dramatically and everyone laughed. “But it’s still fun,” you admitted after a moment. “I get to see campaigns come together from the beginning, and when everything actually works it’s really satisfying.”
“You always sound happier talking about work than dating,” Mina pointed at you.
“Maybe because work doesn’t suck as much as dating,” you stated.
“I don’t know what that says about you.”
“Probably something concerning,” Haeun nodded.
Before you could answer, Soomin let out the longest sigh you’d ever heard. “Speaking of dating…” Everyone turned toward her. “I finally went out with that guy from Hinge.”
“The accountant?”
“The accountant.”
“And?”
Soomin stared into the distance for a second. “I don’t think he asked me a single question.”
Haeun frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I mean he spent an hour talking about himself.”
“That’s annoying,” you commented.
“He showed me a spreadsheet.”
There was a beat of silence. “A what?”
“A spreadsheet.”
“For work?”
“No. He tracks every restaurant he’s ever been to.”
Mina blinked and you tried not to laughed with Haeun “Actually…”
“No,” Soomin interrupted before she could finish. “Don’t even start.”
“I was going to say that’s kind of organized.”
“There was a section for him to rate the lighting!” she exclaimed frustrated.
“…Never mind.”
“I spent forty minutes pretending I cared about overhead lighting.”
You couldn’t help laughing. “I’m sorry.”
“No, you’re not.”
“It’s a good story.”
The table dissolved into laughter, and once everyone had recovered, the stories started coming one after another. One date had ended with someone accidentally running into their ex halfway through dinner. Another had spent the entire evening talking about cryptocurrency. Someone else admitted they’d been ghosted after what they thought had been the most amazing date ever.
“It feels impossible lately,” Soomin complained, reaching for another slice of pizza. “Either they’re creepy, they just wanna fuck or they’re trying to use you to make their ex jealous.”
“Usually all at once,” Jiho added.
“What about you?” Mina looked over at you. “Any exciting romantic developments?”
You looked up from your plate. “Not really.”
“None?”
“I’ve been on exactly one date this year.”
“The guy from the bookstore?” You nodded. “What happened to him?”
“He was nice but… I don’t know,” you thought about it for a second before shrugging. “He didn’t made me nervous or excited. I guess… he just wasn’t my person.”
“How do you know after one date?” Jiho asked.
“I don’t know.” You smiled a little. “You can usually tell if you actually want to see someone again and I didn’t.”
“So you’re taking a break from dating?” Haeun asked.
“I think so.”
“For how long?” she asked curious.
“I don’t know,” you said simply.
Mina rested her chin in her hand. “I’ve been saying this for years.”
“What?”
“You expect too much for a first date.”
You laughed. “I really don’t.”
“You do.”
“I have standards.”
“You have requirements.”
“I have normal requirements.”
“You eliminated a guy because you thought he was checking his reflection in every window you walked past.”
“He was.”
“You eliminated another one because he called every woman ‘female.’”
“That one was justified.”
“Okay, fair.” She frowned. “But one time you left a date because he was too perfect.”
“He was. He could definitely do better,” you nodded thoughtful.
“You know what?” Haeun grinned. “I support you for that one.”
“But,” Mina continued, refusing to give up, “my point still stands.”
“What point?”
“You’ve built this perfect imaginary man in your head,” she pointed at you. “After your ex boyfriend you’ve just put excuses for every new guy.”
“Not true and I really haven’t.”
“You have.”
“I just don’t want to date someone for the sake of dating.” The room quieted a little, everyone listening now. “I’ve done that before,” you admitted. “You convince yourself maybe the attraction will grow or maybe you’ll eventually have more in common, and then three months later you’re wondering why you stayed. I’d rather be single than settle because everyone thinks I should have a boyfriend.”
Haeun nodded. “I actually agree.”
“You always agree with her.”
“Because she’s right.”
Mina rolled her eyes dramatically. “Fine. I support healthy standards.”
“Thank you.”
“But you need to be a little more open,” she accused you.
“Sure, I’ll try.” You said without making it a big deal.
“I can help if you want me to. I can put you out with some friends.” Her smile started getting bigger.
You already knew where this was going. “No, thank you.”
“I absolutely can. I’m great at matchmaking...”
“Mina.”
“I know a lot of people who would be perfect for you,” she insisted.
“You know people who you think would be perfect for me.” You corrected her.
She ignored you completely. “What about my coworker?”
“No.”
“My cousin’s friend?”
“No.”
“The photographer I met last month?”
“You’ve run out of people already?”
She frowned, pretending to think. “Hm…” Then her face lit up. “Oh.”
“No.”
“What about Jin?”
You looked at her blankly. “…Which Jin?”
“Kim Seokjin.”
You stared at her for a second before laughing. “The idol?”
“Yes, the idol.” She said obvious.
“Mina,” you looked at her incredulous.
“What?”
“I’ve said hello to him, like… three times.”
“So you’ve met,” Mina took it as a win.
“I’ve greeted him.”
“Close enough.”
“It’s really not.”
“You literally worked with Taehyung,” she reminded you.
“I work with brands that hire Taehyung,” you corrected. “Those are two very different things.”
“But you’ve met Jin.”
“I’ve been in the same room as Seokjin.”
“And?”
“And that’s it.”
Haeun smiled, shaking her head. “I don’t even think he’s spoken more than five words to her.”
“He made me show him where the coffee station was once,” you told her. “And I think one time I probably bumped into him accidentally.”
“There you go,” Mina replied triumphantly. “You’re basically family.”
You laughed so hard you nearly spilled your drink. “I don’t even think he’d recognize me if we crossed paths tomorrow.”
“He might.”
“He absolutely would not.”
Mina insisted. “He’s a really nice person. Very shy but I know he would be perfect for you!. Ugh, I need to find an excuse to invite him to some hangouts now…”
“I’ll pass. Thank you.”
Your friend sighed dramatically. Like she had lost the war. “Fine. I tried.”
“You really did,” you said sarcastically.
“I’ll keep looking.”
“Please don’t.”
“Too late.”
By the time someone suggested opening another bottle of wine, the conversation had already moved on to something completely different. Jin’s name disappeared from the room as quickly as it’d come up, buried beneath complaints about work, arguments over which movie they should watch after finishing the dinner and if the next hangout would be this same month or the next one, trying to match schedules.
You didn’t think about him again that night. There wasn’t any reason to. After all, he was just someone you’d crossed paths with a handful of times through work— a polite face attached to brief greetings backstage or at brand events before you both disappeared back into your own schedules. The joke was exactly that: a joke. One of dozens exchanged over dinner that evening, forgotten almost as quickly as it had been said.
At least, that’s what you thought then.
——————————
Your apartment was completely dead by the time you arrived there. You dropped your keys into the ceramic bowl by the front door out of habit, kicked your shoes off somewhere behind you, and stood there for a second, stretching and feeling the weight of the day finally catching up to your body. After spending the last five hours surrounded by people talking over one another, laughing across the dinner table and arguing about movies nobody was actually going to watch, your own apartment almost felt unnaturally still. But you weren’t tired yet. Comfortably full, maybe. Socially exhausted definitely.
You changed into an oversized T-shirt, took your makeup off, tied your hair into a messy bun and wandered into the kitchen for a glass of water, your phone tucked underneath one arm. There were already three new messages in the group chat but you were too lazy to check, maybe it was just Mina planning the next hangout already.
By the time you crawled into bed, the digital clock on your nightstand had already slipped past one in the morning. You should definitely needed to sleep, however, sleep didn’t seem nearly as interested in finding you. You rolled onto your back, staring at the ceiling, thinking about some words that didn’t left your mind the entirely night after the conversation. Mina wasn’t entirely wrong, probably that was the most annoying part.
You really hadn’t been trying. For a while, you’d blamed it on work. Luxury fashion PR wasn’t exactly a nine-to-five job, especially once campaign season picked up. Some weeks you barely had time to eat lunch before someone called to tell you a fitting had been moved, a photographer had cancelled, or a celebrity’s schedule had changed for the third time in two days. It was easier to tell people you were busy than admit dating had quietly slipped to the bottom of your priorities.
But work wasn’t the real reason… or at least not completely. If you were honest with yourself, it had started long before your calendar became impossible. Your last relationship had ended almost two years ago. It didn’t really end in a dramatic way, nobody cheated and nobody threw plates across the room or begged anyone to stay, it had simply stopped working. Between different priorities, missed conversations and the slow realization spending time with someone was actually a big part for it to work, the relationship had quietly unraveled until one day you both admitted what you’d been avoiding for months.
Of course it hurt but the worst part hadn’t even been the breakup itself, it was everything that came after. Friends insisting you “just needed to get back out there,” blind dates, dating apps, conversations that felt more like interviews than actual conversations. Men who spent the entire evening talking about themselves. Men who seemed offended that you actually liked your career. Men who confused confidence with arrogance… Eventually, somewhere along the way, you’d stopped opening the apps, stopped agreeing to dates, stopped looking altogether.
It wasn’t that you’d decided to stay single forever. You’d simply gotten… comfortable in your own world, comfortable with your own routines, comfortable with dinners by yourself, comfortable enough that dating started feeling like another task to squeeze into an already busy week…. But Mina had been right, maybe you had checked out.
You reached for your phone on the bedside table and almost without thinking, you opened Hinge. Your profile was still there with the same pictures of months ago, the same prompts and a handful of likes waiting from weeks ago. You stared at the screen for maybe ten seconds before quietly laughing to yourself.
“Fuck no.” You closed the app.
You turned your phone over in your hands before another thought floated back into your head.
What about Jin? You actually laughed out loud this time. Mina’s ridiculous, you thought.
Of all the people she could’ve named… It wasn’t even that the suggestion was impossible— although it obviously was— it was just… random. You’d met him before… technically. The same way you’d “met” dozens of celebrities through work. A greeting backstage before a fitting, a polite nod while waiting for a meeting room to open, someone introducing you in passing before both of you were immediately pulled in opposite directions.
If you passed each other on the street tomorrow, you doubted he’d recognize you. You weren’t even sure you’d recognize him immediately either. Celebrities always looked different once they were standing three feet away instead of behind professionally edited photos.
Still… Why Seokjin?
You frowned slightly, unlocking your phone again. Purely out of curiosity you typed his name into Instagram. His account appeared immediately. Millions of followers and likes. Well, you couldn’t exactly say Mina had terrible taste. He was ridiculously handsome, that much was obvious.
You spent a minute absentmindedly scrolling through his feed, expecting to lose interest almost immediately. Instead… there wasn’t actually that much to see. A few campaign photos, brand collaborations, professional shoots, some travel and some silly pictures on tour. He looked exactly how you’d expect someone like Kim Seokjin to look. Polished, expensive and almost intimidatingly good-looking.
You were just about to close the app when your thumb drifted to the side to see his tagged posts. There were dozens of pictures and videos he was tagged from fans… One clip couldn’t hurt. It was only twenty seconds. A compilation of him throwing flower petals over him in award shows. You chuckled at his confidence and attitude, he was pretty funny.
“Cute,” you mumbled before catching yourself.
No, not cure. Funny. Endearing. There was a difference.
You scrolled a bit and another reel played. One that looked like it came from some variety show. He was laughing so hard he had both hands over his face, shoulders shaking as someone off-camera kept teasing him about something you didn’t understand. But he was so red and he laughed so loud it was really annoying.
You smiled. Then watched another… and another. One where he was stubbornly refusing to lose a game. One edit where he was winning a game and looked really hot. Another where he somehow managed to make everyone around him laugh within thirty seconds. One where he was confidently explaining something before immediately proving himself wrong.
Your eyebrows lifted slightly. He was… really funny. Not in the polished, media-trained way celebrities sometimes were, just naturally funny, comfortable in his own skin, a little too dramatic. The kind of person who didn’t seem embarrassed about laughing at himself or do something cringe just for the fun of it.
Later you were lying in the exact same position, phone balanced against your knees, smiling at a man you’d exchanged maybe three greetings with over the course of your entire career. You hadn’t even noticed how much time had passed until Instagram reminded you you’d reached your three hours of the day. Your thumb hovered over the screen.
“Holy shit.” You’ve spent three hours watching videos of Kim Seokjin. You lowered the phone onto your chest and stared at the ceiling. “Ah, fuck.”
Now you understood why Mina had said it. Not because he was famous or because he was objectively attractive. From the little you’d seen… He actually seemed exactly like the kind of person you would’ve liked if he’d been anyone else.
Shit.
——————————
The next time you saw Seokjin was not really your doing. It was, for once, the universe deciding to be surprisingly generous. Well… generous was probably a strong word. Convenient, that sounded way better.
The invitation had landed in your inbox earlier that week, forwarded by one of the stylists your agency worked with every few months. It wasn’t a launch party or a brand event, nothing that required speeches, photographers or carefully prepared guest lists. Someone had wrapped up a successful campaign, someone else had just gotten back from a tour overseas, and somewhere along the way the excuse had turned into come over, bring whoever you want and let’s have a drink. Half the people attending knew each other from the entertainment industry, the other half from fashion, and after working in luxury fashion PR for long enough, you’d realized the two worlds overlapped far more than most people imagined. So you decided to attend for once since Mina was going too.
By the time you arrived, the apartment was already buzzing with conversation. Music drifted through the open balcony doors, low enough that people didn’t have to raise their voices over it, and every surface seemed to be covered in bottles, half-empty glasses and small plates of food that everyone kept picking at without remembering what was theirs. Someone from a magazine you occasionally coordinated shoots with greeted you on your way in, another stylist pulled you into a quick conversation about Paris Fashion Week before disappearing again, and not five minutes later you spotted Mina standing near the dining table with a wine glass in one hand, laughing at something a singer beside her had just said.
She noticed you almost immediately. “There you are,” she said, reaching over to squeeze your arm as you walked up. “I was starting to think you weren’t coming.”
“I almost didn’t,” you admitted with a smile. “I spent all afternoon fixing a schedule because one actor suddenly decided he’d rather shoot in Milan than Seoul.”
Mina winced sympathetically. “Please don’t remind me what was working with actors. I still have PTSD.”
“You’re lucky you got yourself a nice boss.”
“Still stressful sometimes,” she grimaced. “Today I’ve answered twenty-five phone calls since six o’clock.”
“You counted?” You raised your eyebrows, not really surprised.
“I was angry enough to.”
You laughed, taking the glass she silently offered you.“Everything okay?”
She nodded. “Fine now. Everyone was losing their minds because they thought she wasn’t making it in time to a big event after a rehearsal fit. Bitch, I did her schedule, she was going to make it on time.”
“Only took twenty calls.”
“Twenty-five,” she corrected, like it was something it needed to be remembered.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” she sighed dramatically before taking a sip of her wine. “I’ve accepted that this is my life now.”
The two of you stayed where you were for a while, talking about work the way people only could when they understood each other’s jobs. Mina complained about artists changing their minds at the last minute, you complained about luxury brands insisting every campaign was somehow the most important project of the year, and somewhere between those conversations someone joined in to tell a story about a photographer who’d accidentally shown up to a shoot in the wrong country. You weren’t sure if he was joking. With this industry, it was genuinely difficult to tell.
At some point your conversation broke apart naturally as people wandered off into smaller groups, and you found yourself listening more than talking, occasionally adding a comment before someone else picked up the thread. It was comfortable, you liked those kinds of gatherings, nobody expected anything from anyone. People drifted between conversations, disappeared onto the balcony, returned twenty minutes later carrying dessert as if they’d never left. People knew each other.
You were halfway through listening to a stylist passionately explain why silver jewelry was making a comeback when the front door opened again. Someone greeted the newcomers loudly enough for half the apartment to glance over.
You looked up too. And there he was.
Kim Seokjin stepped inside with an easy smile, greeting the host before taking a moment to shake hands with someone near the entrance. He looked almost exactly the way you remembered him from the handful of events where your paths had crossed over the years, except this time your brain supplied far more information than it had any right to.
He really giggles like that. The thought appeared before you could stop it… But he really did.
The laugh you’d heard through your phone speakers more times that you would ever admit out loud, it was unmistakable, warm enough that it carried across the room for being too loud. It was strangely disorienting, recognizing something so familiar about someone you barely knew.
You looked away almost immediately. Not because you’d been caught staring— he hadn’t even looked in your direction yet— but because it suddenly felt ridiculous that your first instinct had been to compare him to internet clips.
Get a grip.
You took another sip of your drink and forced yourself back into the conversation happening beside you, although it lasted all of three minutes before your attention wandered again. It wasn’t intentional, not that you would admit anyway. You simply… noticed him more this time.
You noticed that he never interrupted people when they were speaking, even if they were telling a story that was clearly going nowhere. That when someone walked over to say hello, he turned his whole body toward them instead of trying to keep talking to someone else at the same time. Every now and then someone would laugh at something he’d said, but he never seemed interested in becoming the center of the room. If anything, he looked happiest standing slightly off to the side, listening.
It was odd. A month ago you probably wouldn’t have registered any of it. Now every little habit felt strangely familiar, as though you’d skipped several chapters of a book and were only now catching up.
You were still mentally scolding yourself for finding this amusing when someone asked if anybody wanted another drink. You looked down at your empty glass. “I’ll grab one,” you said.
The kitchen was thankfully quieter than the living room. Someone had left the balcony door open just enough for the cool evening air to drift inside, carrying the faint sound of conversation from outside. You set your empty glass beside the sink and reached for one of the bottles lined up along the counter, only realizing someone else was doing exactly the same thing from the opposite side. Your hands bumping into each other a little hard.
You looked up. “So, you finally found your way to the beverage station without any help?.”
The words slipped out before you thought about them. For a second Jin looked almost confused. Then recognition settled across his face and he laughed softly as he blushed slightly.
“I did it all alone.”
“So I’m not imagining it.”
“No,” he smiled, reaching for another glass. “The first time was over coffee, right?.”
“Oh.” You pointed at him. “You asked where it was and then your manager made me guide you to the station.”
“Yeah… that happened.” He chuckled nervously.
“Don’t worry, I know the importance of coffee in the morning.”
Jin nodded in complete agreement. “Thank you. Coffee is the most important thing to survive.”
“And now alcohol. We’re upgrading.” You joked and he smiled.
For a brief moment the conversation settled into a comfortable silence while the two of you poured your drinks. It wasn’t really awkward, just a bit weird.
He glanced toward the living room before looking back at you. “You still work at Étoile?”
The question caught you pleasantly off guard. He knew that?. Maybe he remembered you working with Taehyung a lot. “I do.”
“I wasn’t sure. I thought I recognized you at the Cartier event a few months ago. I wasn’t completely certain.”
“I spend most of those events trying not to look stressed so I probably had a completely different face.” You said truthfully and Jin chuckled.
“You hide it well.”
“I absolutely don’t.”
“You do.”
“I promise I don’t.”
“I’ve only ever seen you looking very calm.”
You laughed. “That’s because if I panic, everyone else starts panicking.”
“So you’re secretly panicking,” he hummed.
“Almost constantly.”
“That actually makes me feel better. I thought everyone in fashion had their lives together.”
You stared at him for a second before bursting into laughter. “I’m sorry… Who told you that?”
“A lot of people?” He obviously lied.
“They lied.”
“So none of you know what you’re doing?” He asked jokingly.
“Oh, we know what we’re doing.” You leaned against the counter with an amused smile. “We just happen to be doing it while answering twelve phone calls, rewriting schedules and praying nobody changes their outfit thirty minutes before a campaign. So we are always panicking while making everything work.”
“That sounds exhausting.”
“It is.”
“What keeps you there then?”
You thought about it for a moment. “I like watching everything come together.”
“The campaigns?”
You nodded. “People only ever see the finished product, but there are so many people behind them. Stylists, assistants, lighting teams, producers, makeup artists… I like being part of that.” He listened without interrupting, his attention resting entirely on you in a way that felt unexpectedly rare. “I don’t know,” you continued with a small shrug. “When something goes well, it’s satisfying.”
“I get that.”
“I would thought so,” you smiled slightly. “Fashion it’s a performance so you should know about that.”
He smiled at that. You liked his smile. “I do. And I know the feeling when people assume performing is only the two hours you’re on stage.”
“But it isn’t.”
He shook his head. “It’s months before that. Rehearsals, meetings, recordings, planning… by the time people finally see something, you’ve been living with it for a long time.”
“I never really thought about it like that,” you hummed.
“I guess we’re both in jobs where everyone only notices the finished product.”
You smiled. “I like that.”
“So do I.”
The conversation wandered from there almost effortlessly. Somehow it turned into travel after he mentioned how often work had him living out of a suitcase, which became a debate over whether airport coffee was actually drinkable, which then led to food recommendations in different cities and also about what was the best dessert to have after a big dinner, and before either of you realized it, the glasses you’d filled at the beginning of the conversation were nearly empty.
You found yourself laughing far more than you’d expected to. Not because he was trying particularly hard to be funny, but because talking to him felt very easy and comfortable.
He listened just as much as he spoke, asked questions that made it obvious he was genuinely interested in the answers, and had a habit of smiling halfway through your stories that somehow encouraged you to keep talking. Every now and then he’d tell one of his own, usually ending it with an expression that suggested he still couldn’t believe it had happened, and you understood almost immediately why people seemed so comfortable around him.
“Hey.” Both of you turned at the sound of Mina’s voice. She was standing in the doorway with an amused smile, looking between the two of you before raising an eyebrow. “I’ve been looking for you,” she said, directing the comment at you. “Apparently someone wants to talk to you about a campaign you did last year. Hey Jin,” she greeted him with a smile he returned.
You blinked a bit confused. “How long have I been in here?”
“I don’t know.” Mina glanced at Jin before looking back at you. “Long enough that I assumed you’d gone home already.”
You laughed, setting your empty glass on the counter. “I should probably go save my professional reputation.”
“Probably.”
You looked back at Jin. “It was really nice talking to you.”
“You too,” he said with an easy smile. “Hopefully next time it won’t be around coffee or water.”
“I can’t promise anything. I like drinks.”
“I guess we’ll find out then.”
You smiled once before following Mina back toward the living room, already letting yourself get pulled into another conversation before you’d made it halfway across the apartment.
The rest of the evening passed with too many conversations happening at once, people arriving and leaving whenever they pleased, someone ordering late-night food nobody needed but everyone ate anyway. You spoke to Seokjin once more before leaving, nothing more than a quick goodbye as people gathered near the front door, and by the time you stepped into the elevator you were convinced that was all the night would become.
It wasn’t until you were driving home with the windows cracked open and the music playing quietly in the background that you realized something had changed. It wasn’t that you’d spent the evening talking to someone super famous, that part genuinely didn’t matter. It was that, somewhere between discussing airport coffee, impossible work schedules and the strange satisfaction of seeing a project finally come together, you’d completely lost track of time.
You couldn’t remember the last conversation you’d had with someone new that had felt so effortless.
And, much to your own surprise, you caught yourself wondering what the two of you would’ve talked about if someone hadn’t interrupted. That thought stayed with you all the way home, quietly settling into the back of your mind.
For the first time in a long while, you found yourself hoping your paths crossed again. And, for the first time ever, you just knew it will happen again.
——————————
You could dress it up however you wanted, tell yourself you were simply becoming more social or that it had been nice meeting new people outside of work, but somewhere between leaving that apartment three weeks ago and accepting yet another invitation you normally would’ve declined, you’d become painfully aware of one very embarrassing fact.
You were trying to see him again. Not in a creepy way, of course… At least, that’s what you insisted every time the thought crossed your mind.
It just so happened that after that night you’d kept in touch with a few of the people you’d met. One of the photographers had sent you a meme after discovering you shared the same hatred for some kind of food, a stylist had invited you to lunch with a couple of mutual friends, and before long you found yourself in a group chat that seemed to organize dinners, birthdays and last-minute gatherings every other weekend.
You said yes to all of them.
Was it because you’d genuinely enjoyed everyone’s company? Absolutely. Was it also because every invitation carried the tiny possibility that Jin might be there? …That part didn’t need to be examined too closely.
By the third invitation you had accepted, even Mina had started looking at you suspiciously. “You’ve become weirdly available lately.”
You looked up from where you were digging through your wardrobe. “I’ve always been available.”
“You canceled dinner with me two weeks ago,” she reminded you.
“I had work.”
“You left work at six.”
“Then I was tired.”
Mina crossed her arms, watching as you held two nearly identical sweaters up against yourself before putting one back on the hanger. “And yet,” she continued slowly, “you’re apparently not too tired to drive forty-five minutes across the city for a casual hangout hosted by people you’ve known for…” She pretended to count on her fingers. “…Roughly three weeks?”
You didn’t even bother turning around. “I’ve known them more time, silly. We just started talking more since the hangout. We connected.”
“Right. I’m sure you did.” She said suspiciously.
“They’re fun.”
“Mhm.”
“And it’s good to make new friends.”
“Mhm.”
You sighed, finally looking at her. “Okay, what? What are you implying?”
“I’m not implying anything.”
“You’re humming like a bitch, just say it.”
Mina smiled into her coffee before taking a sip. “I just think it’s interesting.”
“What is?”
“That you suddenly have a thriving social life.”
“I’ve always had a social life.”
“You absolutely have not.”
“I did.”
“You’ve spent the last year declining every invitation that wasn’t work-related.”
You opened your mouth to argue before stopping halfway through. “…Okay, you’re right. But I’m just trying something different now.”
“I think that’s great.”
“I knew you’d understand,” you pointed at her with a cheeky smiled, turning around to keep looking for an outfit.
“I do.” She smiled sweetly. “I also think it has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that a certain someone might be there tonight.”
You froze for a second before reaching for the nearest cushion and threw it at her. “Shut up.”
She caught it without much effort. “I knew it”
“You don’t know shit.”
You rolled your eyes, but the smile tugging at the corner of your mouth ruined whatever annoyance you were trying to perform. “I cant believe I was right. Do you like Seokjin?”
“Of course not!” You laughed despite yourself, dropping onto the edge of your bed. “I barely know him.”
“But you wanna see him again,” she pointed out.
“… Yeah.” You couldn’t lie. “I don’t even know him enough to know if I like him but… I don’t know. He’s cute.”
“I haven’t see you interested in someone in so long!” She said excitedly. “I’m so happy. I’m sure he’s interested in you too.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I can feel a vibe.”
“I bet he barely remembers our conversation. He was probably being just polite.” You shook your head.
“Nah, people usually remember conversations. At least he had to remember a word or something.”
You groaned dramatically, burying your face in your hands. “You’re the worst person to ask for reassurance.”
“I don’t think he dislikes you.”
“That’s not reassuring at all!.”
“Okay, okay. I’m serious.” She set her coffee down before looking at you properly. “From what I saw that night, he looked comfortable talking to you.”
“He also looked comfortable talking to literally everyone.”
“Thats true but because he knew everyone. Usually with new people he’s very shy. So the fact that he was talking to you comfortably I think it says a lot.”
“So?”
“So go and find out. Talk to him more, see if you actually like him.”
You chuckled. “Okay, sure. Whatever I’ll just go. Worst-case scenario, I spend an evening with nice people.”
“And best-case scenario?” She raised an eyebrow.
“I’ll tell you about it if it happens,” you said with a smirk.
Mina groaned so loudly that she nearly spilled her coffee laughing.
——————————
The gathering was even smaller than the last one. Someone had volunteered their apartment, someone else had ordered enough food to feed twice the number of guests, and by the time you arrived most people were already spread around the living room, talking over one another while music played quietly from the speakers. You recognized almost everyone this time. Not well enough to call them close friends, but enough that conversations started easily
The photographer from the previous party greeted you with a hug before immediately pulling you into a discussion about an impossible decision he had to make for his career, an stylist insisted you try whatever dessert she’d brought, and before long you found yourself laughing at stories from a recent campaign shoot that had apparently gone catastrophically wrong. It felt surprisingly natural and comfortable being with these people you never really had the chance to get closer to.
You were halfway through telling someone about a model who’d accidentally boarded the wrong train during Milan Fashion Week when the apartment door opened. You didn’t look immediately because you obviously weren’t waiting for anyone.
Then someone near the entrance said, “Jin!”
Your head turned so fast you almost broke your beck… Very subtle.
He stepped inside carrying a paper bag from a bakery, apologizing for being late before greeting the host. There was something oddly familiar about watching him move through the room now. A month ago he would’ve blended into the evening like everyone else. Now you found yourself recognizing little things almost unconsciously— the way he smiled before saying hello, the habit of slightly bowing his head when someone older greeted him, how he always seemed to listen before speaking.
You hated that your brain had memorized all of it.
He spotted you a few moments later. There was the smallest pause before recognition crossed his face, followed by an easy smile. “Hey.”
“Hi.”
“You made it.”
The words were so ordinary that you almost laughed. “So did you.”
“I almost didn’t. Work really keeps you busy.”
“Were you actually working, or is that the excuse everyone in our industry uses?”
He smiled, rubbing the back of his neck. “…Both.”
“Fair enough.”
Someone called his name before either of you could continue. “I’ll talk to you later,” he said apologetically, nodding toward the group waiting for him.
“Yeah, of course.”
He disappeared almost immediately and you watched him walk away before frowning slightly. You weren’t entirely convinced if he was just being nice of if he also felt that weird vibe going between you two. Maybe you were just too delusional.
Over the next hour your paths kept crossing in the strangest ways. Every time you thought maybe you should walk over, someone else was already talking to him. When he finally looked free, another friend dragged you into a conversation on the balcony. Then, just as you managed to excuse yourself, Jin was helping someone carry drinks into the kitchen.
It was becoming almost comical.
You couldn’t help smiling when he finally made his way over, balancing two glasses in one hand after what felt like an entire evening of narrowly missing each other. It had almost become a running joke in your own head; every time one of you looked free, someone else inevitably appeared to steal the other’s attention. By now it was honestly impressive.
“I was starting to think this apartment was cursed,” you said as he stopped beside you, accepting the glass he held out. “Every single time I thought about coming over to talk to you, somebody got there first.”
“You wanted to talk to me?”
“Of course,” you didn’t shy away, trying not to make the situation uncomfortable. “We had a nice chat last time.”
A laugh escaped him, quieter than the ones you’d heard from across the room but just as genuine, and he shook his head before taking a sip of his drink. “Me too. And I thought that was only happening to me,” he admitted. “Twice I walked over because I figured everyone was finally done talking to you, and then someone else started another conversation before I made it halfway across the room.”
“Seriously?”
“Mhm.” He smiled, looking almost sheepish. “At one point I thought maybe you were avoiding me.”
You looked at him for a second before laughing “I thought you were avoiding me.”
For a moment he simply stared at you, almost as if he was trying to decide whether you were joking, before the corners of his mouth lifted again. “So we’ve both spent the last hour being wrong.”
“I guess we have.”
Whatever awkwardness had followed you around since he’d arrived seemed to disappear with that exchange. It wasn’t some magical shift where suddenly everything became effortless, but the uncertainty you’d both apparently been carrying dissolved enough that the conversation no longer felt like something either of you had to force. Instead of wondering whether you were interrupting him or whether he was only being polite, you found yourselves walking toward the quieter side of the balcony almost without thinking, making room for another group squeezing through the doorway while continuing exactly where you’d left off.
“So, what do you do for work?” You said almost jokingly.
He looked genuinely caught off guard by the question. “What do you mean? You already know.”
“I don’t know,” you laughed. “Everybody always asks what you do for work, but work is only part of your life. So I don’t know, maybe tell me something you like to do that is not working.”
He thought about it for a second, absentmindedly turning his glass in his hands. “I sleep.”
You looked at him. “That cannot be your final answer.”
“I’m serious.”
“I believe you. I just refuse to accept it.”
“It takes up a surprising amount of my free time.”
“I’m trying to discover your hobbies, Seokjin.”
Jin smiled to himself before giving in. “I play video-games.”
“You play video games?”
“I do,” he nodded confidently even when his neck started getting red. “And I’m really good at them. Computer games, play station. Everything.”
“That’s nice,” you nodded with a little chuckle trying to scape out of your lips. “I don’t know anything about that.”
“It’s pretty fun.”
“Yeah, I can tell by the way you talk about it.”
He laughed quietly, and there was something strangely endearing about how easily he laughed at himself. Most people, especially in your line of work, had a habit of polishing every story until they sounded impressive. Jin seemed to do the opposite. Every time he talked about something he’d done well, he somehow ended up mentioning the part that had gone wrong too, as though he didn’t really see the point in pretending otherwise.
“So what about you?” he asked. “What do you like to do?”
You smiled. “I like to read.”
“What kind of books?”
“Anything that makes me forget to check my phone.”
He nodded thoughtfully. “I like movies like that.”
“The ones where you forget you’re watching one?”
“Exactly.”
“Oh my god. I actually have a section in my Letterbox like that. ‘Movies that feel like movies.’” You said excited.
“I’m gonna need you to send me your account then,” he said seriously.
The two of you ended up lingering near the balcony more minutes, just talking. Around you, people drifted in and out of the apartment with the same relaxed rhythm the evening had carried from the beginning. Someone stepped outside to answer a phone call, another group squeezed past on their way to refill drinks, music floated faintly from the living room, but none of it seemed to interrupt the conversation anymore. It simply became part of the background.
“I know this is going to sounds ridiculous.” He looked almost embarrassed. “But I’m not great with new people,” he admitted. “So I’m glad you’re easy to talk to.”
“Really? You said, shaking your head as you leaned against the railing. “You seem so in ease.”
“Nah. Two years ago you probably would’ve had to carry the conversation by yourself.”
“I feel like I already do that sometimes.”
He looked at you, amused. “You?”
“I overshare when I’m nervous.”
“I would’ve never guessed.”
“Exactly. That’s the problem, I just talk to much.”
Jin smiled to himself before taking another sip of his drink. “I get quieter.”
“So we’re opposites.”
“Maybe.”
“I fill every silence.”
“I wait for the other person to.”
“So we are a match made in heaven.”
“Exactly.”
You both laughed, and for a second you simply watched the people inside the apartment. Someone had convinced half the room to play some card game that looked increasingly chaotic with every passing minute. A girl was already arguing about the rules despite the game having barely started.
“You know,” you said, “It’s kind of funny. I would’ve guessed the complete opposite.”
“About me?”
You nodded. “I don’t know… I think because you’re around people all the time, I just assumed talking to strangers came naturally.”
“It doesn’t, at all.” He shook his head. “I still overthink almost every conversation.”
You frowned. “Seriously?”
“Mhm.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“It’s true.”
“But you seem…” You searched for the right word. “…Comfortable.”
“I pretend.”
“So you’re acting?”
He laughed. “I don’t know if I’d call it acting.”
“What would you call it?”
“I just… remind myself that nobody else knows I’m nervous.”
You looked at him for a moment, surprised by how simple the answer was. “I’ve never thought about it like that.
“It helps.”
“I usually assume everyone can tell.”
“I think everyone assumes that.”
You smiled. “I’ve spent half my career convinced people can see me panicking.”
He looked genuinely confused. “I thought you were one of those people who had everything under control.”
You laughed so suddenly you nearly spilled your drink. “I don’t think anyone who’s worked with me would describe me that way.”
“They would.”
“They absolutely wouldn’t.”
“They would.”
“Seokjin.”
“I’m serious.”
You raised an eyebrow. “You’ve only talked to me like twice.”
“I would say more.”
“Mm, not really.”
He nodded. “There was a campaign dinner last winter where we talked a bit.”
You blinked a little taken aback. “You remember that?”
“You were trying to find someone’s assistant. I remember because in that event you were working with Taehyung too.”
“Ah, yes. I was trying to find a missing garment bag.” You couldn’t stop yourself from laughing. “I can’t believe you remember that.”
He shrugged almost apologetically. “I remember weird things.”
“Apparently.”
There was something about that answer that stayed with you. Not because he’d remembered the event itself— that wasn’t impossible— but because he’d remembered you in it. You hadn’t been the client, you hadn’t been the center of the evening. You’d simply been another person running around making sure everything worked. Most people never noticed those things.
“You know what’s strange?” you asked after a moment. “I’ve spent years assuming nobody notices the people behind events.”
Jin tilted his head. “Some do.”
“You do.”
“People behind the scene make everything happen. It’s impossible not to notice.”
You smiled, a little uncertainly. “Most people only remember the face wearing the clothes.”
“I think that’s normal.”
“I know.”
“But…” He paused for a second, as though trying to explain something he hadn’t really put into words before. “I think once you’ve worked around enough productions, you start noticing the people who keep everything moving. You can usually tell who’s solving problems. I guess that’s why I noticed you.”
You looked down at your glass for a second before smiling. “I don’t think anyone’s ever complimented me like that.”
He looked almost surprised. “It was a compliment?”
“Yeah. For me it is.”
“I was just telling the truth.”
The conversation wandered somewhere else after that, not because either of you tried to change the subject but because that seemed to be how talking to him worked. One thought naturally led to another. You ended up discussing the strange satisfaction of crossing things off handwritten to-do lists, the fact that both of you still preferred carrying notebooks despite having every reminder imaginable on your phones, how much you hated the smell of beer, how much he loved snowboarding and the ridiculous amount of time people spent pretending to enjoy networking events.
“So you don’t like them either?” you asked.
“I like leaving them.”
You laughed out loud. “That’s such an honest answer.”
“I always tell myself I’ll stay for an hour. Then I look at the time and it’s three hours later.” He shook his head. “Every time.”
“Why don’t you leave?”
Jin smiled. “Because then I meet someone interesting.”
You felt your heart give one annoyingly noticeable beat. “Does that happen often to you?.”
“It doesn’t.” Before you could think of a response, someone called his name from inside. He turned instinctively. “What?”
“Your food is getting cold! Are you eating?”
“I’ll be there!” He looked back at you almost immediately. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
“You were saying?”
The fact that he’d come back to the conversation instead of letting it die made something warm settle somewhere in your chest.
“I honestly don’t even remember.”
“You were probably making fun of me.”
“I probably was.”
“I think you were.”
“I’ll continue after you get food.”
He smiled. “Deal.”
And he did.
Five minutes later, after grabbing two slices of pizza and somehow convincing someone else to stop stealing olives off his plate, he walked right back over and picked up the conversation as though nobody had interrupted it in the first place. It happened again later. Someone asked him to settle an argument in the kitchen, another friend pulled him into a group photo. Every single time, he came back. Not tired or with some grand excuse, just quietly returning to where you’d been standing before asking, “Where were we?”
By the end of the night you realized you’d talked about almost everything and almost nothing. Childhood hobbies, the fact that both of you hated talking on the phone but would happily send ten-minute voice notes, how neither of you understood people who enjoyed going out every weekend to party, the weird satisfaction of grocery shopping late at night. You talked about the best convenience store snacks, whether pineapple belonged on pizza and more. The conversation never felt like it needed to impress the other person, it just kept going.
When people finally started putting on their jackets, you were genuinely surprised to see the apartment had emptied without you noticing. “I should head out too,” you said, slipping your phone into your bag.
Seokjin nodded. “Me too.” For a second neither of you moved. “I had a really good time,” he said, smiling in that same quiet way he always seemed to.
“Me too.” You stayed in your place, waiting for him to ask for your number.
“I’ll…” He hesitated just enough for you to notice it. “…I’m sure we’ll see each other again.”
“Right,” you said, almost disappointed. “Yeah, I hope so.”
He smiled once more before following his friends toward the door. You watched him leave, waiting until the apartment had almost emptied before saying your own goodbyes.
The drive home was spent replaying conversations you hadn’t meant to memorize. Not because anything extraordinary had happened. He hadn’t flirted with you, he hadn’t asked for your goddamn number. Seokjin hadn’t looked at you in some life-changing, movie-worthy way. If anything, the evening had been remarkably ordinary. And maybe that was exactly why you couldn’t stop thinking about it.
You liked talking to him, like a lot. There had been no awkward pauses to fill, no pressure to sound clever, no moments where you found yourself wondering what you should say next. Somehow the two of you had managed to spend hours discussing the most ridiculous, everyday things, and you’d still walked away feeling like there were another hundred conversations left to have. That should have been exciting. Instead, it left you hopelessly confused. Because Jin was nice. Painfully, consistently nice. He listened to everyone, he smiled at everyone, he remembered details about people that most would’ve forgotten. So how were you supposed to tell whether any of tonight had actually meant something?
Maybe he talked to everybody like that, maybe every person who left one of his conversations went home thinking they’d been understood, maybe this was just who he was. You couldn’t read him. Every time you thought he’d given you a sign, your brain immediately found another explanation for it, and by the time you pulled into your apartment building you were somehow even more confused than when the evening had started.
The only thing that wasn’t confusing anymore was yourself. There wasn’t any point pretending this was simple curiosity, that excuse had expired somewhere around the conversation about how much you loved strawberry cheesecake.
You liked him. Entirely, inconveniently and undeniably.
You smiled all the way upstairs because the realization was somehow equal parts embarrassing and exciting. And later, before you’d even finished getting ready for bed, you found yourself opening the group chat from the party. Your thumb hovered over the upcoming plans someone had mentioned earlier. A birthday dinner next week. A movie night the weekend after. A barbecue if the weather stayed nice. You stared at the messages for a moment before smiling to yourself. A month ago, you would’ve checked your calendar first or invent another excuse to not show up. Tonight, you were already trying to figure out how to make sure you didn’t have any plans at all so you could see him again.
——————————
Monday mornings at HYBE building looked exactly the way you imagined a music company would. Stylists hurried down the hall balancing garment bags over one shoulder while trying to answer phone calls at the same time, assistants walked briskly between meeting rooms carrying stacks of documents that somehow looked urgent regardless of what was inside them, and every few minutes someone you vaguely recognized from a campaign, a magazine shoot or an awards show passed by with a polite nod before disappearing around another corner. It was organized chaos, the kind that somehow managed to function despite looking as though everything was happening at once.
You’d been there often enough over the years that the receptionist greeted you by name before you’d even reached the desk. “Good morning.”
“Morning,” you smiled, accepting the visitor’s badge she handed over. “I’m here for the ten o’clock.”
“They’re already waiting for you.”
“Perfect. Thank you.”
Luxury fashion PR had a funny way of making every company building start to feel familiar. One month you were spending every afternoon at a magazine headquarters preparing a campaign, the next you were coordinating fittings at a fashion house, and then suddenly you were sitting in entertainment agencies discussing contracts between artists and brands. It meant learning hundreds of names, remembering dozens of schedules and somehow keeping track of who was available on which side of the world.
By the time you reached the conference room, three people from HYBE’s partnership team were already seated around the table, laptops open and coffees untouched.
The meeting itself was surprisingly straightforward. The agency had recently signed a new rookie group whose first luxury campaign was already attracting attention from several international brands, and your company had been hired to coordinate the negotiations and oversee the campaign schedule. Most of the creative decisions had already been approved weeks earlier, which meant your morning was spent going over travel dates, confirming fitting appointments, discussing possible magazine covers and making sure nobody had accidentally scheduled three different events in three different countries on the same day… It happened more often than people realized.
“I’ll send over the updated timeline this afternoon,” you said, closing your notebook once everyone seemed satisfied. “As long as the group’s comeback date doesn’t move again, everything should stay on schedule.”
One of the managers laughed. “Please don’t say that out loud.”
“I’m choosing optimism.”
“We’ve learned not to.”
You smiled. “Fair enough.”
Another hour disappeared into emails and final revisions before the meeting finally wrapped up. By the time you stepped back into the hallway, your shoulders already felt lighter. There were still a dozen things waiting for you back at the office, but the most complicated part of your week had gone considerably smoother than you’d expected.
You had just slipped your notebook and laptop into your bag when a familiar voice called your name from the other end of the corridor. You turned just in time to see Taehyung walking toward you, sunglasses hooked onto the collar of his T-shirt despite being indoors. For a second you simply stared.
“Well, that’s a face I haven’t seen in forever.”
He laughed. “I was about to say the same thing.” The two of you met halfway down the hallway, exchanging a quick hug before stepping back. “What are you doing here?” he asked. “I thought your office was like 3 hours away.”
“It is. We were meeting with the partnership team.”
“For the rookie group?” You nodded. “Please tell me they’re behaving.”
“So far.”
“So they haven’t started changing schedules every six hours yet?”
“It’s only Monday.”
“There’s still time to run.”
You laughed. “You sound like you’ve been traumatized.”
“I’ve worked in this building long enough. Rookie groups are starting to be a nightmare.”
“That’s fair. I’ve seen some news.”
The conversation slipped back into familiarity almost immediately. You hadn’t worked together in nearly two years, but spending months coordinating the promotional aesthetic campaign for his first solo album had a way of making people remember each other. After that there had been fashion events, magazine dinners, a handful of award shows and enough passing greetings over the years that seeing him now felt less like bumping into an old client and more like running into an old coworker.
“So,” he asked, leaning casually against the wall, “how’s life?”
“Busy.”
“I expected a more exciting answer.”
“I coordinate luxury campaigns.”
“So… busy.”
“Exactly.” You chuckled. “What about you?”
Taehyung sighed dramatically. “We start rehearsals again next week.”
“For the tour?” He hummed in agreement. “I saw the dates.” You mentioned. “They look impossible. You have, what…” You frowned, trying to remember. “Three countries in a week and then another one next week in another continent?”
“Yeah.. I’ve stopped looking.”
“I don’t blame you.”
“You learn not to pay attention,” he smiled cheekily.
Before either of you could continue, another voice joined the conversation.
“I had a feeling I’d find you here hiding.” You looked up instinctively. Jin had just stepped out of one of the rehearsal studios further down the hallway, a black hoodie thrown over his shoulders. He slowed as he reached the two of you, smiling in quiet surprise when he noticed you standing there. “Oh.” His smile widened just slightly. “Hi.”
“Hi,” you smiled slightly, heart starting to beat a little faster.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
You lifted the visitor’s badge hanging around your neck. “Work.”
“That makes more sense.” He nodded knowingly.
“Lucky for her,” Taehyung interrupted, “she gets to leave.”
You smiled. “I do.”
“I’ve still got vocal rehearsal.”
Jin looked at him. “I thought you were eating first.”
“I was.” Taehyung glanced down at his phone before groaning. “…Actually, no, apparently I’m not. They just moved my reservation.”
“Again?”
He held up his screen dramatically. “I’ve officially given up questioning management.”
You laughed. “Some things never change.”
“They really don’t.”
He pushed himself away from the wall before pointing between the two of you. “I’m leaving you to catch up because if I’m late one more time they’ll start pretending I’m difficult.”
“You are difficult,” Jin said.
“But you love me anyway”
“Ew, don’t say that.”
“You do!” Taehyung looked back at you. “It was good seeing you again.”
“You too.”
“Don’t disappear for another two years.”
“I’ll do my best.” With one last wave, he disappeared around the corner, leaving the hallway noticeably quieter. For a moment you and Jin simply watched him go. “He hasn’t changed,” you said eventually.
“Not even a little.”
“I think that’s impressive.”
“I think it’s exhausting.”
You laughed. “I can imagine.”
The two of you started walking almost without discussing it, heading slowly toward the elevators at the end of the hallway. Neither of you seemed particularly rushed, and after the last few times you’d talked, it no longer felt strange to fall into conversation so easily.
“So,” he asked, glancing over at you, “how did the meeting go?”
“Better than I expected. I was preparing for at least one scheduling disaster but everything went well.”
“You sound disappointed.”
“Nah. I like being pleasantly surprised. You shrugged. “What about you?” you asked. “Taehyung mentioned rehearsals.”
He nodded. “We leave in a few weeks.”
“You excited?”
“I am.” He smiled to himself before looking ahead again. “I think the rehearsals are always the hardest part.”
“Really?”
“I like performing but I don’t like preparing to perform.”
You laughed softly. “I don’t know why that makes perfect sense.”
“I spend weeks wondering if we’re ready. And then the first show starts and I stop worrying for about two hours.” He told you, a little exhausted. “Then I start worrying about the next one.”
You smiled. “I feel like that’s every job.”
“It probably is.”
By the time you reached the elevators, the conversation had wandered somewhere entirely different. Somehow you’d ended up talking about travel again, comparing favorite cities from work trips, complaining about airports, laughing over the fact that neither of you had figured out how people managed to sleep comfortably on planes.
The elevator arrived with a quiet chime. You both stepped inside. “Oh, I forgot to ask,” he said as the doors closed. “What are you doing this weekend?”
You looked at him, a little excited. “This weekend? I don’t really have plans. Why?”
“You wanna have dinner?.” He hesitated for a second before clarifying. “Everyone’s getting together on Saturday. Some close friends, Taehyung is also included. We’re going to a nice restaurant. I thought maybe you would like to come.”
“Oh.” You smiled. An invitation, as friends. Great. “Yeah, of course. I’ll be there.”
“Great,” he said with a smile. “Nice.” There was a small pause, comfortable rather than awkward, before he looked at you again with the same thoughtful expression you’d started recognizing over the past few weeks. “Actually…” He rubbed the back of his neck almost absentmindedly. “I just realized I don’t have your number.”
You hummed. “Yeah… You don’t.”
“I probably should.”
“That would make things easier. You know, for the address of the restaurant and all.”
“It would. Yes.”
You unlocked your phone and handed it to him. “Here.”
Seokjin smiled as he typed his contact into it before giving it back. “I’ll text you,” he said simply. “To let you know it’s me and send you the address”
You nodded. “Right.” The elevator doors opened onto the lobby. You stepped out together before stopping near the entrance, where your paths naturally split in opposite directions. “I should let you get back to work,” you said before smiling. “I’ll see you Saturday.”
He nodded. “See you Saturday.”
You watched him disappear back toward the elevators before pushing through the glass doors into the afternoon sun. Halfway across the parking lot, your phone vibrated.
Unknown Number. You opened the message before you’d even reached your car.
Seokjin: Just proving it’s actually me.
A second message appeared almost immediately.
Seokjin: Don’t be late on Saturday. Taehyung will absolutely blame someone else if he is, and I’d rather it not be you.
Seokjin: [address]
You: Noted. I’ll arrive early just to preserve my reputation.
His reply came less than a minute later.
Seokjin: Smart girl
Okay, that was hot.
You know it wasn’t flirtatious, it wasn’t even particularly memorable. But as you slid your phone back into your bag, you couldn’t stop smiling. In all the times you had spent talking for hours at a friend’s apartment and now exchanging numbers in an elevator, things had quietly become very comfortable with him. You still had absolutely no idea whether Jin saw you as anything more than someone he enjoyed talking to. If anything, getting to know him had only made him harder to read. He was attentive with everyone, kind without making a performance of it, and thoughtful in a way that could easily be mistaken for interest if you weren’t careful.
Which was exactly the problem. You couldn’t tell whether he liked you like that. The uncertainty was still there, lingering in the back of your mind every time you replayed one of your conversations, but it didn’t bother you quite as much anymore. Because one thing, at least, had become impossible to deny. He liked spending time with you.
Saturday suddenly felt very, very far away.
——————————
The restaurant wasn’t particularly fancy, which somehow suited the group better than any upscale place ever could have. It was tucked away on a quiet street a little outside the city center, the kind of place people only seemed to know about through recommendations rather than advertisements. Warm lights hung above the terrace, the windows were thrown open to let the late summer air drift inside, and the steady murmur of conversations mixed with clinking glasses and the occasional burst of laughter from another table.
You spotted everyone almost immediately. There couldn’t have been more than ten people, already gathered around a long wooden table near the back of the restaurant. Someone waved the second you stepped through the door, and within moments three different voices were greeting you at once.
“There she is.”
“I told you she’d be late.”
“I am three minutes early,” you protested, laughing as you slipped your bag off your shoulder.
“You’re ten minutes late.”
“That’s early for her.”
You smiled, making your way around the table to greet everyone properly. A couple of faces were still relatively new, people you’d only met once or twice over the last month, while others already felt strangely familiar despite how recently they’d come into your life. It was funny how quickly comfort formed when everyone shared the same chaotic industry. Then your eyes found Jin. He was already seated halfway down the table, listening to something Taehyung was saying with that small smile you were becoming increasingly familiar with. When he noticed you looking over, he gave you an easy wave.
“Hey.” He smiled. “You finally found the place.”
“Barely,” you admitted. “Your directions were significantly better than my navigation.”
“I knew I should’ve sent more landmarks.”
“I still would’ve gotten lost.”
“I believe that.”
You caught yourself smiling at the quick exchange before you’d even reached your chair. When you looked around for somewhere to sit you noticed there was only one empty seat left. To the other corner of the table, directly across from him, not close at all. You stared at it for a second. “…Seriously?”
Someone looked up. “What?”
“Nothing.” You smiled, sliding into the chair. “I just thought I’d made it before everyone else.”
“Why?”
“No reason.”
You reached for the menu before anyone could ask another question. Across the table, Jin looked briefly amused, though he didn’t comment, instead returning to whatever story Taehyung had been telling before you’d arrived. You tried very hard not to let the tiny disappointment bother you. It was ridiculous, really ridiculous. You weren’t in middle school. You weren’t twelve years old trying to sit beside your crush in class. You were a grown woman who coordinated campaigns worth more money than most people made in a year. You could survive sitting far from this guy …Probably.
Dinner started slowly, with everyone ordering drinks while waiting for the last two people to arrive. Once they did, the conversation settled into that familiar rhythm you’d started associating with this group. Nobody stuck to one topic for very long. One person would mention work, someone else would remember a completely unrelated story, and twenty minutes later everyone would somehow be debating whether overnight flights were worse than six a.m. call times.
Laughter rippled around the table. You found yourself joining in easily, adding comments here and there whenever the conversation naturally drifted your way. It felt comfortable, and yet every now and then your attention wandered somewhere it probably shouldn’t. Across from you, Jin was talking to one of the producers about the upcoming tour. You couldn’t hear everything they were saying, but every so often he’d laugh quietly or shake his head at something someone else had said, and despite telling yourself not to, your eyes kept finding him. Once and then again. Then another time. It was becoming embarrassingly automatic. At one point he happened to glance up while reaching for his water. Your eyes met for barely a second and he gave you just a small smile. Then the conversation beside him continued, and he turned back toward it. You did the same.
See? He’s talking to everyone.
You forced yourself to pay attention to the conversation happening on your side of the table instead. For the next hour that became the pattern of the evening. Whenever everyone spoke together, it felt easy. You’d catch each other’s eye occasionally across the table, laugh at the same stories, tease Taehyung whenever he exaggerated something, but there wasn’t really an opportunity for the kind of conversation you’d secretly been hoping for.
The distance of a table suddenly felt much larger than it actually was. You hated yourself a little for caring. There were at least eight other people there and you liked all of them. You were having a genuinely good time. And yet some stubborn, irritating part of your brain kept thinking… I haven’t actually talked to him. Every now and then someone beside him would ask him something directly, another person would join in, and before long he’d be caught in another conversation while you were doing exactly the same thing at your end of the table.
Maybe this was normal, maybe you’d built up the last few weeks too much in your own head. Maybe they had felt significant because they’d happened one-on-one and your brain had made the situations feel extra intimate only becuase you liked him like that. Here, surrounded by everyone else, he seemed exactly the way he always had. Kind, relaxed and happy to talk to whoever happened to be nearby.
It occurred to you, not for the first time, that maybe this was simply who he was.
You were halfway through telling the photographer beside you about a campaign that had nearly fallen apart because a shipment had been sent to the wrong country when another burst of laughter echoed from Jin’s side of the table. Almost instinctively, you looked over. He was smiling at something a friend had just said. Nothing unusual, nothing you hadn’t already seen a hundred times. Still… A tiny, childish part of you felt oddly deflated.
You took another sip of your drink. Get over yourself. The evening wasn’t about you. You’d barely known him for a month. There was no reason to expect him to spend the entire dinner talking to you. Honestly, if someone else described this situation to you, you’d probably tell them they were overthinking it. Which, unfortunately, meant you were almost certainly overthinking it.
“You’ve gone quiet.”
You looked back toward the woman sitting beside you. “Hm?”
“I was asking if you’re coming to Milan next month.”
“Oh.” You laughed softly. “Sorry. I got distracted.”
“I noticed.”
“I probably am.”
“You probably?”
“My calendar changes every three days.”
“That’s the most PR answer I’ve ever heard.”
“It’s also the only honest one.”
The conversation picked back up, and eventually you stopped checking the other end of the table quite so often. Or at least, you convinced yourself you had.
Dinner stretched comfortably into the evening. Plates gradually disappeared, dessert menus appeared almost without anyone noticing, and one by one people started glancing at their phones, remembering early schedules or long drives home.
“I should probably go,” one of the producers sighed eventually, pushing his chair back. “I have a seven a.m. meeting tomorrow.”
“On a Sunday?”
“I know.”
“My condolences.”
Another person stood and some of them followed. Goodbyes started overlapping with fresh conversations, people lingering by the table while putting on jackets because nobody ever managed to leave immediately. You’d barely noticed how many people had already gone when the friend beside you launched into a story about their parents divorce.
By the time she’d finally reached the end of the story, probably regretting saying too much, the restaurant had become noticeably quieter. You looked around almost absentmindedly. The table that had been full less than fifteen minutes earlier was almost empty. Taehyung had already left, your photographer friend was gone, one stylist had disappeared after hugging everyone goodbye. Only one chair across from you was still occupied.
Jin looked up from the beer he’d been absentmindedly nursing for the better part of an hour and smiled. “I think everyone abandoned us.”
You blinked before looking around once more. “They actually did.”
He laughed quietly. “I didn’t even notice.” Neither had you. Jin glanced toward the front of the restaurant, where the last of your friends were saying their goodbyes near the entrance, then looked back at you with an expression that suggested he was just as surprised as you were. “I guess we were really invested in our conversations.”
You laughed, still looking around as if someone else might suddenly reappear. “I feel like there were ten people here five minutes ago.”
“There were. But I think they slowly escaped while we weren’t paying attention.”
“So we’re the last ones here.”
“I don’t think the staff minds.”
As if on cue, one of the waiters walked past carrying a stack of empty plates, offering the two of you a polite smile before disappearing into the kitchen. You glanced back toward the entrance. “I should probably head out too.”
Jin looked down at the beer still sitting in front of him before looking back up. “I mean…” He hesitated for a second, almost like he was debating whether to ask. “Would you mind staying for a bit? I haven’t finished this yet.”
You followed his gaze to the glass. It was still almost half full. “…Of course.”
“I don’t want to keep you if you have plans.”
“I don’t.”
“You sure?”
You smiled. “I’m sure.”
He smiled back, a little relieved. “Okay.”
Neither of you spoke for a moment, but unlike before, the silence wasn’t searching for a conversation. It simply existed while the restaurant slowly emptied around you. Someone in the kitchen dropped a tray, a waiter laughed at something another employee had said, and outside the windows the street had grown noticeably quieter than it had been when everyone first arrived.
Jin took another sip of his beer. You were almost certain it had to be warm by now. “So,” he said eventually, moving to seat next to you before resting his forearms against the table, “did you have a good time tonight?”
“I did.” You smiled. “I actually like this group a lot.” You thought about it for a second. “I feel like everyone already knows everyone else’s schedules are a mess.” He laughed. “So nobody gets offended when someone cancels.”
“They know what life is like this.”
“What about you?”
Seokjin shrugged. “I like that they remember you’re also a person.”
You looked at him curiously. “What do you mean?”
He smiled as he said it, but there was something thoughtful underneath the smile that made you think he wasn’t entirely joking. “I think when people see someone whose job is public, they forget that the rest of your life still exists.”
You nodded slowly. “That makes sense.”
“They just assume you’re always in your performing mood.”
You rested your chin lightly against your hand. “I prefer the honest side of people.”
“That’s even better then.”
The conversation drifted naturally from there, taking the same shape all of your conversations seemed to take. One topic quietly became another without either of you trying to steer it anywhere in particular. Somehow you ended up talking about childhood, about the strange jobs you’d imagined yourselves having when you were ten years old, laughing when he admitted he’d once been absolutely convinced he’d become a veterinarian despite fainting the first time he watched blood being drawn.
“You fainted?”
“I was twelve.”
“I don’t think age helps your case.” You laughed silently. “So what happened to becoming a veterinarian?”
“I realized animals deserved someone much braver.”
“I think that’s fair.”
“What about you?”
“I wanted to be a librarian or own a bookstore.”
His eyebrows lifted. “Really?” You hummed. “I can actually picture that. I feel like you’re the kind of person who probably organize everything alphabetically.”
You gasped dramatically. “I’m not. I’d organize them by genre!”
He snorted, blinking a little slow before biting his lower lip to not smile. You thought he was really handsome like that. “Of course you would.”
“Shut up, you don’t know me.” You said like a kid.
Seokjin looked down at his beer with the faintest hint of a smile before quietly saying, “I’m getting there.”
A waiter stopped beside the table before you could say anything. “Can I get you two anything else? Dessert, maybe?”
You instinctively shook your head. “I’m okay.” You glanced at Jin and he looked at you.
“You sure?”
“I don’t really have a sweet tooth.”
“I do.” He looked back at the waiter. “We’ll share one.”
You blinked. “You don’t have to—”
“I know.” He smiled. “But I want cheesecake. You said you like the strawberry one, right?”
“Yeah, but—”
“I think dessert is always better with company.”
You laughed, accepting defeat. “I can’t argue with that.”
“Good.”
The cheesecake arrived a few minutes later with two forks. Seokjin ended up stealing exactly two small bites while you finished the rest while he insisted that if he was ordering dessert anyway, someone should help him justify it.
And by the time the plates had been cleared away, neither of you had noticed that the music inside the restaurant had grown quieter. It wasn’t until a chair scraped across the floor nearby that you looked around. The staff had started stacking the empty tables near the windows. Someone was wiping down the counter, another waiter was rolling silverware into napkins. You checked your phone. 10:54 p.m.
“We’ve been here for a while.”
Seokjin followed your gaze before looking down at the beer still sitting in front of him. He laughed. “I don’t think I’ve touched this in twenty minutes.”
You looked at the glass. “Longer. It’s definitely warm.”
“It probably is.”
“You should finish it.”
“I probably should.” Instead, he took the smallest sip imaginable before setting it back down exactly where it’d been.
You smiled to yourself. He wasn’t trying very hard but you weren’t about to complain. You were hoping he never finished that beer. You wanted to stay longer with him either way. Even if the restaurant closed at 11pm…. But the fantasy broke because few minutes later one of the waiters approached with the bill tucked neatly inside a black folder.
Seokjin reached for it before you even realized it had been set on the table. “I’ve got it.”
You looked up. “I took most of the dessert so I definitely should—” You reached for your wallet.
He shook his head. “You can get the next one.” The words came out so naturally that neither of you reacted immediately. He paid quickly with his card before looking at you with a small smile. “Although I’ll fight you again next time.”
Something warm settled somewhere beneath your ribs. “I can live with that.”
As you walked toward the door together, he stopped briefly near the counter where a small glass bowl filled with individually wrapped mints sat beside the register. He picked one up, unwrapped it as the two of you stepped outside and laughed quietly when he caught you watching him. “What?”
“Nothing.”
He smiled, shaking his head as he popped it into his mouth. “I just don’t like leaving restaurants smelling like beer.”
You stared at him for a second. “That’s oddly considerate.”
Did he really remember all you said? You were definitely making him up. He couldn’t be real.
“I’ve always done it.” He slipped his hands into the pockets of his jacket as the two of you started walking down the quiet street. “Which way are you parked?”
“I’m not.”
“You took a taxi?”
“I walked. Its only about twenty minutes.”
Jin looked ahead for a second before nodding once. “Then I’ll walk you.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I know,” he shrugged. His answer was immediate, almost matter-of-fact. “I’d like to. I live close this neighborhood anyway.”
You smiled despite yourself. “Okay.”
The streets had quieted considerably by then, the warmth of the evening lingering even as the city settled into the slower rhythm that only seemed to exist after ten o’clock. You walked side by side without rushing, continuing the same conversation you’d been having inside as though leaving the restaurant hadn’t interrupted it at all. You realized, somewhere between laughing about the worst movies either of you had ever paid to see and debating whether breakfast food should be acceptable at any hour of the day, that talking to him never felt like work.
By the time your apartment building came into view, you almost wished it were another ten minutes away. “So…” you said, slowing to a stop outside the entrance. “Thanks for walking me home.”
“Of course.”
“And thanks for dinner.”
“Don’t even mention it.” For a brief second, neither of you moved. Then he smiled. “I’ll see you soon.”
“I hope so.”
“You will.”
He said it with such quiet certainty that it didn’t even occur to you to question it. You watched him disappear back down the street before finally heading upstairs. It wasn’t until you were brushing your teeth later that night that the entire evening replayed itself in your mind.
The conversation. The strawberry cheesecake, the warm beer he’d barely touched because he’d been too busy talking to you. The mint he took after. The way he’d said the next one as though another dinner between the two of you was already the most obvious thing in the world.
You still couldn’t tell if Jin liked you. Not in the way you wanted him to. He was still frustratingly impossible to read, still so effortlessly kind that every thoughtful gesture came with another explanation you could use to convince yourself not to overthink it. Maybe he walked everyone home, maybe he paid for everyone when he was feeling generous. Maybe he remembered everyone’s favorite dessert, maybe he was gentle enough to know what the other person dislike. Maybe this was simply who he was. But lying in bed that night, staring at the ceiling with a smile you couldn’t quite get rid of, you admitted something to yourself that you hadn’t been brave enough to say out loud before.
Whether he liked you or not had almost become secondary. Because somewhere along the way, without even noticing exactly when it had happened, you’d stopped looking forward to seeing him but you started missing him.
——————————
By the time May rolled around, seeing Jin had stopped feeling like an event. It had happened so gradually that neither of you could have pointed to the exact moment things changed. One dinner became another, then someone suggested drinks after work one Thursday, a birthday turned into brunch the following weekend, and before long your names simply started appearing together in plans without either of you having to ask. If someone created a group chat to organize something, you already knew there was a good chance the other person’s profile picture would be somewhere near the top.
Somewhere in between all of that, phone calls had quietly become part of your routine too. It had started innocently enough. One evening he’d called because he couldn’t remember the name of a restaurant you’d recommended a few weeks earlier. Another time you rang him while walking home because you’d spent twenty minutes trying to decide between two birthday gifts for a friend and wanted a second opinion. Then, somehow, those practical conversations turned into hour-long calls that had very little to do with why either of you had picked up the phone in the first place.
You’d tell yourself you only had five minutes. An hour later you were somehow debating whether cereal counted as dinner, arguing over which city had the worst airports in Europe or listening to Jin explain, in alarming detail, why he believed every household should own at least three different frying pans.
“You don’t need three,” you’d laughed one night, curled up on your sofa with your laptop forgotten beside you. “No normal person owns three.”
“You own twelve mugs,” he fought back.
“Mugs are different.”
“How?”
“Each one has a purpose. They hold memories.”
He’d been quiet for exactly two seconds before laughing so hard you could barely understand what he was trying to say. “They hold coffee.”
“And memories.”
“I’ll pray for whoever has to move house with you one day.”
“I’ll make them carry the mugs.”
“You’ll have to marry someone very patient.”
“I know.”
There had been a tiny pause after that, neither of you had acknowledged it. Then the conversation had simply moved on. Moments like that happened more often now, little sentences that accidentally wandered somewhere dangerously close to something bigger before one of you quietly steered them back toward safer ground.
It was strangely comfortable, enough that, when one of your friends suggested meeting for drinks after work on Friday, you didn’t even think twice before sending Jin the details.
You: we’re at Kaqwi bar around 8 if ur free
Jin: I’ll be there :)
The smiley face shouldn’t have made your heart react the way it did.
The bar wasn’t particularly busy when you arrived, but it filled quickly as the evening went on. Music hummed softly beneath conversations, the terrace outside was crowded with people escaping the lingering starting of summer heat, and inside your group had somehow managed to claim one of the larger booths before anyone else could steal it.
You were already halfway through telling a story about one of your clients showing up to a fitting wearing two completely different shoes when Jin finally appeared. He apologized to everyone for being late before sliding into the empty space beside you like it was second nature. “Traffic?”
You looked at him. He nodded dramatically. “And one very determined taxi driver.”
“Well, you survived.”
“Barely.”
“You look alright.”
“I’ve been through a lot.”
“Oh, please.” You rolled your eyes. “You texted me from the car saying you were buying chips because you were hungry.”
Jin looked genuinely offended. “I can have two problems at once.”
The people sitting across from you laughed. You glanced at Jin, unable to stop smiling. Three months ago you would’ve hesitated before teasing him. Now it came naturally. He teased you back just as easily too. He looked at everyone else. “Do you see what I deal with?”
One of your friends laughed. “You two sound married.”
You nearly choked on your drink, trying really miserably not to blush. Jin, somehow, stayed completely composed. “I think married people argue less.”
“Oh, definitely less,” you agreed.
“They eventually get tired.”
“We’re nowhere near that stage.”
“I wasn’t aware there were stages.”
“There are.” You nodded thoughtfully. Nobody took the conversation seriously and neither did you, moving to the next subject and pretending that you haven’t been daydreaming about him for the last couple weeks…. At least until you noticed that he’d stolen three fries from your plate while arguing. “You’ve been eating my fries this entire time?!”
“…Have I?” He said while grabbing another one.
“Yes. You’ve eaten half my fries. You didn’t even order anything!.”
“I genuinely didn’t notice,” he lied. “I thought they were ours.”
“There is no ‘ours. You owe me fries.”
“I’ll buy you fries.”
“I don’t want replacement fries.”
“Do you want me to throw up and give them to you then?”
“You’re disgusting.”
He smiled to himself. “I know.”
You stared at him for a second. It was becoming a problem. A genuine, actual problem. Because somewhere over the last few weeks you’d become frighteningly good at recognizing all the tiny expressions nobody else seemed to notice. The smile he did when he was trying not to laugh, the one where he ducked his head slightly whenever someone complimented him. The way he’d absentmindedly roll up the sleeves of his shirt whenever he got comfortable somewhere. How he listened with his entire attention, never looking over someone’s shoulder to see if another conversation was more interesting.
None of those things should’ve been attractive. And yet your brain had apparently decided they were the most charming habits any human being had ever possessed. It was honestly becoming ridiculous. You caught yourself watching him while someone else spoke, noticing the way he laughed with his whole face, the little crease that appeared beside one eye, the way he always pushed his empty glass a few centimeters away before leaning forward whenever he got interested in a conversation.
He wasn’t even doing anything, he was just existing. There were moments— small, completely insignificant moments— when you’d look at him and genuinely wonder if your body was capable of handling much more of this before simply giving up altogether. He was just so handsome and he got more prettier everytime you looked at him. He’d looked at you across a crowded table while stealing your fries and smiled like he already knew you’d forgive him. It was embarrassing, you’d never been this gone over anyone before.
The worst part was that nothing about it felt obsessive in the loud, dramatic way people usually described crushes. It was quieter than that. It lived in all the little things. You wanted to see him everyday, you wanted to spend time with him and talk to him almost every second. You liked seeing him even if your body went immediately into an intolerable nervous breakdown because he was so annoyingly handsome. It was frustrating.
As the evening stretched on, people naturally split into smaller conversations, the table growing louder without ever becoming chaotic. Someone suggested another round of drinks, someone else started planning a weekend trip that would almost certainly never happen, and at some point you found yourself sitting slightly turned toward Jin, the two of you talking while the rest of the table carried on around you.
“So…” you said, tracing absentminded circles through the condensation on your glass, “next month.”
He nodded slowly. “Next month.”
“The tour.”
“Yeah.”
“You finally sound excited.” You pushed him slightly with your shoulder. “How’s it going?”
He let out a quiet breath through his nose. “My legs hurt.”
You laughed. “That’s your review? I expected something more profound, Seokjin.”
“I’ll save the profound thoughts for next week.”
“You don’t have any.”
“I probably don’t.” For a moment, he watched the people around the table before looking back at you. “I am looking forward to it, though. I just…” He searched for the words. “It’s strange.”
“What is?”
“I’ve gotten used to being here.”
You tilted your head slightly. “Home?”
He nodded. “And…” He smiled. “…To seeing everyone.”
You knew he meant the group, even if he was only looking at you. So why did your stomach still flip? Well, you couldn’t control your reaction very easily. “Well,” you said lightly, “we’ll survive. You’ll be back before you know it.”
“I hope so.”
“You’ll call?”
“I will.”
“You better.”
“I was planning to.”
“You can tell me all about your glamorous airport meals.”
“They’re never glamorous.”
“I know.”
“And you can complain about work.”
“I always complain about work.”
“I know.”
You smiled. “See? Nothing changes.”
He smiled back, though there was something softer about it this time. “I guess not.”
Even surrounded by everyone else, the thought settled quietly between you. Next month would be different. And for the first time since meeting him, you realized there would soon be weeks where seeing Jin wouldn’t simply be a matter of waiting until the next weekend hangout. You’d actually have to miss him. The realization sat surprisingly heavy in your chest. You hid it behind another joke, another laugh, another stolen fry from his plate this time, but as you watched him throw his head back laughing because you’d finally managed to get revenge, one completely unhelpful thought echoed through your mind.
You’re in so much trouble. Because if you already felt like this now… You couldn’t imagine what a month apart was going to do to you.
——————————
The strange thing about missing someone wasn’t that one dramatic morning you woke up and suddenly realized two months had felt unbearably long. Instead, it settled quietly into your routine until one day you noticed you were reaching for your phone before anything interesting happened because you already knew who you’d want to tell first.
The first week after Jin left for tour had been easier than you’d expected. You’d both been busy enough that the time difference and impossible schedules almost worked in your favor. If he finished a show just as you were leaving the office, you’d call while walking home. If you happened to be awake when he landed somewhere new, he’d send you a blurry photo from the airport with a single complaint about the coffee. There were days when your conversations lasted forty minutes and others when they barely stretched past five, but somehow neither of you seemed bothered by it. The expectation wasn’t that you’d always have time; it was simply that, sooner or later, one of you would hear from the other.
Then Fashion Week arrived with its usual lack of mercy.
Your calendar became a wall of color-coded appointments, garment fittings, showroom visits and dinners with clients that somehow always ran longer than anyone intended. You spent more time inside black cars than in your own apartment, learned to survive on coffee and protein bars tucked into your handbag, and answered emails in elevators because they were sometimes the only quiet place you could find.
One evening, somewhere between a fitting that had overrun by an hour and a last-minute venue change for a presentation, your phone buzzed in the pocket of your blazer.
Jin: Are you alive?
You: Debatable.
His reply came almost immediately.
Jin: That’s not very reassuring.
You: Fashion Week.
Jin: Good point.
You laughed softly to yourself while stepping into the back of a waiting car.
You: What are you doing awake?
Jin: Airport
You: Again?
Jin: Again
The conversation drifted from there, as it always seemed to. He complained about delayed boarding, you complained about a designer deciding fifteen minutes before a campaign shoot that he no longer liked the original styling direction, and somehow twenty minutes disappeared before either of you realized you’d both reached your destinations.
That became the rhythm of the following weeks. He called from hotel rooms that all looked vaguely identical no matter which country he happened to be in. You answered from backstage corridors, quiet taxis or empty office kitchens long after everyone else had gone home. Sometimes you talked about work. More often you talked about absolutely nothing.
One night he spent almost fifteen minutes trying to convince you that cereal counted as a perfectly acceptable dinner after ten o’clock. “It absolutely doesn’t,” you insisted, balancing your phone between your shoulder and your ear while searching your apartment for clean pajamas.
“It does if you’re tired.”
“That’s not how nutrition works.”
“It does for me.”
There was something strangely comforting about those conversations. You’d never imagined that spending so much time talking to someone who wasn’t physically there could make them feel even more present in your everyday life. You started recognizing the sounds in the background before he mentioned where he was, could tell whether he was tired just from the way he said hello, and without consciously trying, both of you began remembering the smallest details about each other’s days.
By the middle of the second month, it felt unusual not to hear his voice. Which was precisely why your eyebrows lifted when his name appeared on your screen one Tuesday afternoon while you were standing outside a showroom in Paris. You answered almost immediately. “Hi.”
“Hi.” There was a pause. “Are you busy?.”
“I little.”
“So am I.”
You smiled. “Then why did you call?”
“Why did you answer?”
“Touché,” you giggled a little. “I’ve been working nonstop for this fashion week events. But I don’t know what’s worse the people or the heat in Paris—”
“Wait, wait…” His voice changed completely, a little hurried and surprised. “You’re where?”
“Paris.”
“Right now?”
You frowned. “…Yes?”
He stumbled into his words. “I’m in Paris.”
You stopped walking. “…No, you’re not.” You blinked at absolutely nothing. “I thought you were in Amsterdam.”
“That was yesterday.”
“I’ve completely lost track of your schedule.”
“I think I have too.”
You laughed. “So you’re actually here?”
“I’m literally looking at the Eiffel Tower.”
“No way.”
“What about you?”
“I’m near Place Vendôme.”
He laughed, he sounded happy. “I can’t believe we didn’t know. How long are you going to be here?”
“I leave the night after tomorrow.”
“So do I.” There was a small pause, one that somehow felt different. “Do you have any free time?”
You smiled before he had even finished asking. “I actually do.” You checked your calendar. “I’ve got one meeting tomorrow morning, then I’m free after lunch.”
“So am I.”
“…Seriously?” You laughed. “That’s almost suspicious.”
“I know.” He hesitated for just a second. “So… Do you want to hang out?”
Your answer came so quickly that it surprised even you. “Yeah.”
“I was thinking maybe Versailles?”
You looked down the street, smiling to yourself. “I haven’t been since I was seventeen.”
“Perfect. I’ll meet you there then
The rest of the afternoon disappeared in a blur of meetings you barely remembered.
The following day was one of those rare Paris afternoons where the sky seemed almost impossibly blue, the late summer sun soft enough that walking outside actually felt pleasant instead of exhausting. By the time your train pulled into Versailles, you had changed out of your work clothes and into something far more comfortable— a simple summer dress, comfortable enough for hours of walking but still presentable enough that your professional instincts didn’t entirely panic.
You arrived first, for the first time ever. You wandered toward the entrance, watching groups of tourists gather beneath colorful umbrellas held high by guides speaking half a dozen different languages. Families posed for photos in front of the gates, children complained about the heat, and somewhere nearby someone was playing violin badly enough that it somehow added to the charm rather than taking away from it. You checked your phone.
Jin: Two minutes.
You smiled. Exactly three minutes later, you spotted him. He was walking across the courtyard with one hand tucked into the pocket of a pair o white summer linen pants, an oversized white linen shirt shifting gently in the breeze as he looked around searching for you. A pair of sunglasses rested on top of his head, pushing his dark hair back from his forehead, and for one completely unfair moment you simply stood there watching him weave through the crowd. He was just so pretty you wanted to eat him whole.
It wasn’t until he caught sight of you that you started walking again. His face brightened immediately.
“There you are.” You both laughed at saying exactly the same thing.
For a second, neither of you seemed entirely sure what people who had spent two months talking almost every day but hadn’t actually seen each other in person were supposed to do. Then you stepped forward first and hug him, he held you back with easy, his hands wrapping around your shoulders and pushing you a little too hard to his chest. You giggle a little from the action, his broad shoulders and back feeling too good against your body and arms.
The hug lasted just a fraction longer than a polite greeting without either of you acknowledging it. “You look tired,” he said as you pulled away, taking his time to look at your face without fully taking his arms off of you.
“I was going to say the same thing.”
“I’ve been rehearsing.”
“I’ve been surviving Fashion Week.”
“So we’re both victims.”
“I think we are.”
You smiled. “I’ve missed you.”
The words were so simple that they slipped past you very easily. Your heart gave one completely unreasonable thud when he answered immediately. “I’ve missed you too.” For a second, all the noise around you seemed to fade into the background. Then someone brushed past with a stroller, breaking whatever strange little bubble you’d accidentally stepped into. Jin cleared his throat lightly. “So…” He held up two tickets. “I may have already bought the audio guides with translation.”
You laughed. “You came prepared”
“You said one time that you actually like listening to museum tours.”
“I do,” you smiled softly, your heart beating so loud you almost thought he would be able to hear it. “Thanks for remembering.”
“Of course.” He handed you one of the devices. “Although I figured we’d probably spend half the time talking anyway.”
“You know us surprisingly well.”
He rubbed the back of his neck, smiling sheepishly. “I would hope so.”
And somehow, within less than five minutes of seeing each other, it already felt like no time had passed at all.
The palace unfolded around you one room at a time, each grander than the last, but after the first few minutes you realized you were paying remarkably little attention to the gold ceilings or painted frescoes the audio guide seemed so determined to explain. Not because they weren’t beautiful, they absolutely were. It was simply difficult to concentrate on eighteenth-century French history when Jin was walking beside you after two months apart, occasionally stopping to look at a painting with the kind of genuine curiosity that always made him tilt his head ever so slightly, as though he was trying to understand not just what he was looking at, but why someone had chosen to create it in the first place. He looked like an angel every time your eyes wandered to his figure.
“Do you understand what they’re saying or I’m just that bad at the language?” he asked after removing one side of his headset.
You looked at him with amusement. “I’ve listened to several words… I heard ‘Louis.’”
He laughed. “I don’t think that narrows it down.”
“There were numbers too.”
“You’ve learned nothing.”
“I’ve learned the ceilings are expensive.”
You smiled to yourself. Talking to him still felt exactly the way it had over the phone, except somehow easier. There was no delay before one of you answered, no crackling signal, no wondering whether the other person had gotten distracted by work or simply lost reception. Every joke landed immediately, every smile came without having to imagine it on the other end of the line, and every now and then one of you would point at something entirely ridiculous just to hear what the other would say about it.
“I think I’d get lost in here,” you said as you stepped into another enormous gallery.
“You absolutely would.”
“You agreed with that a little too quickly.”
He laughed at you but didn’t say anything else, and the sound echoed faintly through the room before dissolving beneath the quiet voices of the other visitors. The more you walked, the more obvious it became that something had shifted between you over the last two months. The conversation no longer needed a beginning. There was no catching up in the traditional sense because neither of you had really disappeared from the other’s life. You already knew how rehearsals had been going, which city had unexpectedly become his favorite stop on tour, how exhausted you’d been during Milan Fashion Week and even what you ate last week. Instead, you filled in the little gaps. The expressions that texts couldn’t capture, the stories that were funnier in person, the tiny details that somehow never made it into phone calls. And at one time you laughed so hard you had to steady yourself against his arm for a second before realizing what you’d done. Your hand lingered for the briefest moment against the fabric of his sleeve. His bicep was surprisingly strong and warm. You pulled it back almost immediately.
“Sorry.”
“For what?”
“I practically used you as furniture.”
“I don’t mind.”
He said it so casually that it almost made it worse. You nodded once, pretending to be far more interested in the next doorway than in the fact your pulse had suddenly become embarrassingly noticeable.
The palace gradually gave way to the gardens, where the afternoon sun spread across endless stretches of perfectly trimmed hedges and fountains that glittered beneath the light. Compared to the crowded galleries inside, everything outside felt slower. There was more space between people, more room to wander without constantly stepping aside for another tour group. You fell into step beside him and somewhere along the gravel path your shoulders brushed. Neither of you moved away. You kept talking and he did too. It happened again a few minutes later when the path narrowed between two rows of hedges, your fingers moved a little trying weakly to catch his so he would take the hint. But again, nobody acknowledged it.
It was ridiculous how aware you had become of every tiny point of contact. You wondered if he noticed, and you also wondered if he didn’t. He had made time for you despite living on the opposite side of the world half the year. He called, he listened, he laughed at jokes that weren’t particularly funny simply because you were the one telling them. And yet… He’d never crossed that invisible line, not once. Which left you trapped in the world’s most exhausting guessing game. Maybe he was just wonderful and charming with all people... which, honestly, you didn’t like.
As you rounded another corner, he reached out without thinking and lightly touched the middle of your back, guiding you aside as a large tour group swept past in the opposite direction. “There you go.”His hand disappeared almost as quickly as it had arrived. You tried not to think about the fact you could still feel it. You thought how his fingers would feel around your waist or touching your bare skin.
“This place is busier than I remembered,” you managed.
“It’s because everyone had the same idea we did and decided to come on the nicest afternoon of the week.”
“This was poor planning.”
“It was.”
You smiled. “I’d still choose today.”
He looked at you. “Me too.”
You looked away before your face had the chance to betray you.
By late afternoon the palace had begun to empty, the crowds thinning just enough that you could finally stop lingering behind slower groups. You’d walked for hours without really noticing it, your conversations interrupted only occasionally by the audio guide insisting on explaining another room or another portrait neither of you had been paying enough attention to appreciate.
Your feet, however, had started protesting. “I need five minutes,” you admitted with a laugh as you sat down on a stone bench overlooking one of the fountains.
“Tired?”
“I’ve been standing in heels for all week.”
“You’re wearing sandals.”
“For the first time all week.” Jin smiled quietly before sitting beside you. For a few moments neither of you said anything. Not because there wasn’t anything left to say, quite the opposite, the silence had simply stopped needing to be filled. You watched families wander through the gardens, children racing one another across the paths while parents unsuccessfully attempted to keep up. “I forgot how nice this is,” you said. “I’m glad we came.”
He turned slightly toward you. “So am I.”
Something about the way he said it settled softly in your chest. He looked at you for a second longer in silence and you wondered if he was really thinking the same as you. Eventually you stood again, deciding to make your way back through the palace before heading toward the station. But halfway there you stopped abruptly.
“I need the bathroom.”
He nodded immediately. “I think there was one near the entrance.”
“There was.” You looked ahead. “Okay seemed like everyone else also wanted to use the bathroom.” The line stretched embarrassingly far down the corridor. You sighed. “Of course.”
“I’ll wait.”
You glanced at the queue again before groaning. “This is going to take forever.” Jin looked around thoughtfully, his eyes wandering down a quieter side hallway. “What?”
“I might know another one.”
“You do?”
“I saw a staff sign earlier.”
“You think you saw one?”
He smiled. “Come on.”
Before you had the chance to question him further, he reached for your hand almost absentmindedly, weaving your fingers together with his as he led you down the quieter corridor. Your entire brain stopped functioning. He was holding your hand. Just like that. As though it were the most natural thing in the world. As if you hadn’t been throwing hints all those hours so he would do it.
You stared at your joined hands for half a second before looking back up, praying he couldn’t somehow hear your heartbeat. “You realize,” you said, trying very hard to sound normal, “if we get caught wandering through staff corridors, we’ll be in big problems.”
“Isn’t that more fun?”
You both started giggling out of nowhere, trying —and failing— to keep your voices down as you wandered through the quiet hallway. He checked one door that was locked. Then another one that was a storage. “This is going well.”
“Just trust me.” He looked at you with a grin that made it impossible not smile. A few steps later he stopped in front of another door. “This has to be it.”
“You’ve said that twice.”
“I feel better about this one.”
“You’ve become overconfident.” He reached for the handle, still locked. You shook your head before laying back in the door. “I would be already in the front of the line.”
“I was close with this one.”
“You were nowhere near.”
You were still smiling when he looked back at you. His smile slowly fading as he saw you against that door. Suddenly you were seeing a face of him that you haven’t seen ever. Your smile slowly faded too as he took a step closer. The hallway around you had gone unexpectedly quiet, the distant sounds of the palace reduced to little more than an indistinct murmur somewhere beyond the walls. Neither of you spoke. “I’ve missed your face,” Seokjin admitted in a low voice.
The words were so quiet that, for a second, you almost wondered if you’d imagined them. You looked up at him, and for the first time since you’d met him, you weren’t trying to figure him out anymore. It was all there, written across his face so plainly that you almost laughed at yourself for every hour you’d spent wondering whether he liked you or whether he was simply the nicest man alive. He looked at you the way you’d been looking at him for months. Like you were the only person in the room, like he couldn’t quite believe you were standing there. His thumb absentmindedly brushed against the back of your hand, still intertwined with his, as he took another small step closer until there was barely any space left between you. “I’ve…” He smiled to himself, almost embarrassed by what he was about to admit. “I’ve been dreaming about doing something all day after months of not seeing you.”
You tilted your head. “What?”
His eyes dropped, just for a second, to your mouth. Then back to your eyes. Your entire body forgot how to function. “…This.” Your heart lurched so violently you were convinced he had to hear it. It wasn’t beating anymore, it was galloping. Somewhere in the back of your mind you thought, completely irrationally, this is it. This is actually how you’re gonna die. You’re gonna drop dead if he kissed you.
He hesitated for only a heartbeat, giving you every opportunity to move away. Instead, you found yourself closing the last inch between you. His lips met yours softly, almost carefully, as though he’d imagined this moment so many times that he was afraid reality wouldn’t live up to it. But it did, it definitely did. The second you kissed him, every thought that had been racing through your head for the last two months simply… disappeared. There was no overthinking, no wondering if he liked you anymore, not trying to read between the lines of every text message or every smile. There was only him, his warm hands sliding from your cheeks to every part of your body until they settled on your waist. The man you’d spent months convincing yourself not to fall too hard for was kissing you back with the same certainty, pressing you against a bathroom door that couldn’t be open. Like he wanted nothing else to do that for the rest of his life.
When you finally pulled away, it was only enough to catch your breath before he smiled— that same shy smile you’d loved from the very beginning. You didn’t say much, you giggled into each others mouth, the sound echoing softly through the empty corridor, before he kissed you again. This one was slower and less hesitant. As though the first kiss had answered every question either of you had been too afraid to ask.
Your fingers found the front of his linen shirt almost without thinking, bunching the fabric lightly as he smiled against your lips. His hand romearirng around your body like he couldn’t push you any closer to him. “I think,” you whispered while he kissed your jaw, “we should— we should probably leave before someone catches us.”
“Probably.” Neither of you moved. “…Definitely.” Still neither of you moved. Seokjin laughed quietly. “I don’t really want to.”
“Neither do I.”
He bit down your neck and your hands sinked into his hair to push him a little so you could see his pretty face. You gave him little pecks on his big lips as his eyes narrowed, dark pupils looking at you brightly. But he still looked at you with that same soft expression he’d been wearing all afternoon.
“You should come back to the hotel with me.” Your stomach immediately filled with butterflies. He continued before you had the chance to answer. “You don’t have to leave tonight if you don’t want to.” His smile widened just a little. “Honestly… you should spend the night there.” He paused, looking almost amused by his own train of thought. “And the next hotel if you want.” You raised an eyebrow. “And the one after that.”
You couldn’t help laughing. “Jin…”
“I’m serious.” He kissed your lips again. “I like having you around.” He shrugged as though that explained everything. “I think I’d like having you around in every city.”
For a moment, you simply stared at him. If he kept talking like that, you really were going to end up following him across Europe and staying with him… well, forever. You forced yourself to recover just enough to tease him. “Hm…” You pretended to think about it. “I don’t know.”
He frowned slightly. “No? Too fast?”
“I think…” You smiled innocently. “you’d have to ask me on a date first.”
He looked genuinely confused. “…A date?” You hummed and for the first time he took a little step back to looked better at your face, hands still over your sides. There was a beat of silence before he blinked, really unsure. “I thought we were dating.”
You stared at him confused. “What?”
“I mean…” He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly looking adorably uncertain. “We call each other every day.”
“I call all my friends.”
“We’ve been having dinner together.”
“With friends.”
“I walked you home.”
“I thought you liked to walk.”
“I really don’t.” He looked at you as though the conclusion was obvious. “I thought we’d been dating for weeks… Or, at least, I don’t know, seeing each other.”
You looked at him so deadpan your face almost froze. “Are you stupid?”
His expression softened into a grin. He took your hand again, squeezing it gently. “Okay, okay. My bad. Let me start again… Would you like to go on a date with me?”
You looked at him, at the man who had somehow turned months of stolen conversations and phone calls into the easiest love you’d ever known, even when distance could have been an end. So you just smiled so widely your cheeks already hurt.
He was actually really stupid. “I thought we already were in one.”
pairing: student! fem reader x student! jeon jungkook
summary: when you finally get your crush’s number, you expect the start of an epic love story— not a random guy making fun of you because he thinks the guy you’ve been obsessed with for the last six months gave you a fake number. Jeon Jungkook, the one who replies, finds it entertaining and helps you chase the guy… at least until he finds out that the person he’s been helping date another guy is you, the girl he’s been obsessed with for the last two years.
genre/warning: this is a smau fic!! with narration included in some chapter but it’s mostly messages/tweets. very unfunny jokes. this is mostly crack/fluff.
authors note: jungkook and yn finally meet!!!! this is a narrated chapter so be aware!!! so excited for this hehe not my funniest one but i tried>_<
chapter index | previous — next
— chapter nine: life is a blowjob!
Jungkook realized that two americanos on an empty stomach had been a catastrophic decision after he ordered the third. He also realized that arriving thirty minutes early had somehow made everything infinitely worse for his peace of mind.
He’d convinced himself it was practical at first. He convinced himself everything needed to be perfect before you arrived. Maybe there could be traffic on the way— even though he wasn’t driving and the café was ten minutes walking from his dorm— he still couldn’t be late to the hangout. Or maybe he wouldn’t be able to find a seat— even though the place was empty most of the time at that hour… There could be a lot of issues that could show up out of nowhere so he needed to be the first to arrive to solve them… He also needed some time to look normal and not rushing in sweat like a psychopath.
All perfectly reasonable excuses until he found himself sitting alone by the window, staring at the café door while every muscle in his body slowly tightened with each passing minute.
Jungkook was going insane.
10:42 a.m
It had been only 10 minutes and you weren’t supposed to be there until eleven. Eighteen more minutes to go.
“…Fuck.” The word slipped out under his breath as he dragged both hands down his face.
This was a mistake. A massive, irreversible, life-ending mistake.
Jungkook thought how he should’ve stayed behind a screen forever. Texting was easy for him when it was with you. It let him delete things before sending them. Texting let him think before speaking to you. Texting didn’t involve making eye contact with the prettiest girl he’d ever met while pretending he hadn’t spent the better part of two years quietly orbiting your existence like a haunted fucking satellite.
His leg bounced uncontrollably beneath the table. Maybe he could leave.
Actually… Yeah. That felt right.
Jungkook stood and walked all the way to the café door, hand already pushing against the handle before he stopped.
What the fuck was he gonna text?
No. He couldn’t just pretend he couldn’t make it. Would that hurt your feeling? He didn’t want to hurt your feelings. He was the one who had the idea to hangout. He needed to be brave.
Jungkook sighed heavily, turned around, and walked back inside. The barista looked up at him with mild concern as he reclaimed the exact same chair he’d abandoned less than twenty seconds ago. But the girl didn’t say anything… especially since it was the third time he had done the same.
Five minutes later he’d convinced himself leaving actually made much more sense this time.
He got up again and finally made it outside. Jungkook walked half the block before stopping. “Jesus fucking Christ.” He rubbed his face so aggressively it almost hurt before spinning on his heel and marching straight back.
This time the same barista caught him before he’d even sat down. “Dude, are you sure you want this americano?”
“Yes,” Jungkook said frustrated. “And please add another shot.”
By 10:55 his hands were shaking just enough to piss him off. He stared at them while asking for another americano. He was definitely going to die before you even had the chance to say hi.
Which, honestly, it was probably better for him.
His phone buzzed and Jungkook grabbed it so quickly he almost dropped it.
the loml: two minutes away
Jungkook’s heartbeat stopped as another message appeared almost instantly.
the loml: what r u wearing
the loml: wait
the loml: that was lowkey nasty
the loml: what r u wearing babygirl?🤤
Despite his nerves, a laugh escaped him.
Jungkook: idiot (message not sent)
Jungkook: black hoodie (message not sent)
Jungkook: hoodie (message not sent)
Jungkook: IM LITERALLT WEARING THE WORST OUTFIT EVER OMG (message not sent)
Jungkook: the hottest outfit ever (message not sent)
His thumbs hovered uselessly over the keyboard while his brain started screaming loud enough to drown out the music playing through the café speakers— Shit. He couldn’t even properly send a text now. How was he supposed to talk to you face to face?
No, no, no. He couldn’t.
It was ridiculous. He’d survived perfectly fine without doing this… He could still leave. Right now. He could show up with some lie. He got an emergency, maybe food poisoning or he was suddenly arrested. Yeah, he could just invent a lie, he couldn’t stay. God, no. Jungkook was sure he wouldn’t be able to talk to you. He would just be so embarrassing you would never want to talk to him again.
Yeah, fuck no.
His chair scraped quietly against the floor as he stood, slipping his phone into his pocket before he could overthink it anymore. That was it, he was leaving. He’d apologize later. You’d probably be too busy being obsessed over his best friend to even care.
He took exactly one step before the bell above the café door chimed. Instinctively, his head turned.
You stepped inside.
Holy fucking shit.
You weren’t looking around yet. Your eyes stayed glued to your phone as you typed something, a strand of hair falling across your face before you tucked it absentmindedly behind your ear. His phone buzzed in his pocket but he didn’t pay any mind.
You looked… God. You looked exactly like you always did.
He’d spent two years noticing you between breaks, across hallways, sitting outside buildings with headphones on, laughing with those three idiots you called friends. He knew the shape of your smile from impossible distances because he still remembered it from close. Knew the way you’d throw your head back when you laughed too hard. Knew you gestured with both hands when you talked, like every sentence required visual aids.
But standing ten feet away after such a long time, you suddenly felt… real.
Not campus real. Not “girl I secretly look at during lunch breaks” real. Not ‘girl crush I’ve been dreaming about’. Real enough to walk over, real enough to say his name and real enough to realize he was just some random guy you probably wouldn’t even like.
Jungkook pulse lurched. He looked away so fast it almost gave him whiplash.
Nop. Absolutely fucking not.
If he didn’t look at you and if you didn’t see him maybe he could still pretend—
“Black americano for Jungkook.”
Ah, fuck.
He tried to ignore it, looking to the other side of the place. The barista’s voice cut cleanly through the café. “Jungkook?”
Couldn’t she take a fucking hint?.
He slowly lifted his head. The barista was looking directly at him, cup already in hand, moving it like she was waiting for him to hurry up as if she had any other clients waiting in line when the place was empty. Jungkook thought about all the bad reviews he was going to leave her as he walk closer to the counter.
“…Thanks.”
He reached for it automatically, almost cringing at the motion. Movement flickered in the corner of his vision. You had looked up and, finally, your eyes met his.
Jungkook was going to pass out.
He saw you frown. Your gaze dropped briefly to the coffee cup in his hand, then back to his face and then back to your phone. You did that three times, maybe too confused he was actually the guy you had been talking too. Jungkook couldn’t tell. Were you imagining someone better looking than him?
Yeah, he was definitely ending his shit tonight.
Jungkook felt every single organ inside his body shut down in perfect synchronization when you started walking closer to him.
“Oh my God.” You stopped right in front of him, a little too close, blinking twice before a huge grin spread across your face. “No way.” Jungkook forgot how breathing worked. “Jungkook?”
He nodded once. “Yeah.”
Your smile somehow got even wider. “What the fuck?” You laughed, looking him up and down with complete shamelessness. “Oh my God.”
He managed the world’s weakest laugh. “Hi.”
“I did not picture you like this.”
“No?”
“No!” You pointed at him as if that explained everything. “I had this whole image.”
“I’m scared.”
“It was completely different.”
He chuckled shyly. “Care to share?”
“I thought you were gonna be…” You tilted your head thoughtfully. “I don’t know… glasses and shit.”
“Glasses and shit?”
“Yeah, you know— disney nerd cast.”
“I— what the hell does that even mean?” He frowned confused, amused by your brain and how actually much of an extrovert you were. Really similar to the way you text, really blunt. “And I do wear glasses, just to read and play video games.”
“Well, I kinda was right then.” You gestured vaguely toward him. “But I don’t know I was lowkey picturing you like Robbie from Victorious
Jungkook looked genuinely offended. “Should I— is that an insult or…?”
“Not really. He was cute to me.” You shrugged before nodding approvingly, looking at him again closely this time.
Jungkook was sure his heart was about to jump out of his chest any minute. His face started getting hot. Oh god, he was blushing. “What?”
“You actually look…” You squinted dramatically. “Like a stereotypical bad boy from a cheap magazine”
Jungkook blinked. “Excuse me?”
“Well, the tattoos and the piercings. The whole…” You motioned vaguely toward his black hoodie and rings, “…whatever aesthetic you’ve got going on. I bet you only wear black.”
“Of course not! I… I own other colors.” He stuttered.
“That wasn’t convincing.”
“I literally do.”
“Mhm.” You smiled. “You’re like a bad-boy from Pinterest.”
For the first time all morning, Jungkook laughed out loud. He couldn’t help it, you were so openly cute and funny, it just made the whole thing easier for him. He wasn’t dying of anxiety anymore and he now could be just himself. He was now only nervous to prove to you he was definitely as cool as you were.
“Let’s sit.”
You laughed to yourself before walking next to him to the table, finally dropping into the chair across from Jungkook, setting your bag on the floor and pushing a few loose strands of hair behind your ear. “This is so weird.”
“It is.”
“I’ve been talking to you every day for like… what? Weeks?”
“A little over.”
“And I’ve just been making up your face this whole time,” You sighed. “Now look at us. Internet friends to real friends.”
“Only few people can make that happen,” he said sarcastically.
“Well, I’m definitely glad you’re not an eighty year old man. That was my worst befriended experience ever.”
“That sounds like— Wait, what do you mea—”
“Ugh, I want a coffee too.” You pointed at him triumphantly before reaching across the table to steal the untouched americano sitting in front of him. “Can I have this? It seems you had a lot of… those.” You looked around the table, noticing his other three americanos. “Were you hanging out with your friends before?”
“Those are mine.”
“Why were you drinking so much coffe? You’re gonna have a heart attack.”
Jungkook blinked, moving uncomfortably in his seat. “Uhm… Well, I got here early,” He said, a bit shy.
“How early?”
“Early.”
“Jungkook.”
“…Thirty minutes.”
Why was he saying this to you? Jungkook couldn’t shut up. His mouth was just being too honest with you. He needed to stop.
You stared incredulous at him. “You’re lying.”
“I’m not.”
“No fucking way.”
He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly finding the tabletop incredibly interesting. “I wanted to make sure I got a seat.”
“You got here thirty minutes early for a coffee shop?”
“Yeah.”
“You absolute loser.”
“I know.”
“No, like…” You giggled this this time, shaking your head. “That’s actually adorable.”
Adorable. Jungkook was going to think about that word together with those giggles for the next six to eight years.
Instead of answering, he picked at the cardboard sleeve around one of his empty coffee cup, hoping you wouldn’t notice that his ears had immediately betrayed him.
But, of course you noticed. “Oh my God. You’re blushing?”
“I’m not.”
“You literally are.”
“It’s warm in here.”
“They have AC.”
“They barely have it on!”
You leaned across the table, narrowing your eyes at him with exaggerated suspicion. “You’re actually shy.”
“I’m not shy.”
“You are.”
“You’re just too easygoing!”
You laughed again, smiling like it was a compliment. “You’re cute, Jungkook.”
Okay, he was definitely going to pass out.
“Shut up.”
You leaned back in your chair, still looking at him with obvious curiosity. “So…” you said, tapping your nails on the table. “What about you?”
Jungkook looked at you a little confused. “What?”
“What did you think I’d look like?”
He let out a quiet “oh,” buying himself a second. There were about a hundred honest answers sitting at the tip of his tongue, all of which would get him escorted out of the café if he accidentally said them out loud.
“I thought you’d be taller.”
You looked down at yourself. “Rude!.”
“I’m kidding.”
“Mhm.”
“I actually didn’t think of anything.”
“Liar,” you accused him.
“I’m serious.”
“You had to imagine something.”
He pretended to think about it for another second before smiling. “I imagined you’d look like someone who talks way too much. I was completely right.”
You gasped dramatically. “Excuse you?”
“I was right,” he said again.
“I’ve known you in person for thirty seconds.”
“You’ve been talking for twenty-nine of them.”
“I was being welcoming!.”
“Well, you really are. For sure.”
You laughed, pointing at him. “Okay… I’ll give you that one.”
Jungkook shrugged innocently. “I like that, you’re too friendly.” He tilted his head slightly. “I wasn’t expecting you to smile this much.”
You looked at him a little taken aback. “What?”
“You smile a lot,” he repeated himself. Jungkook remember you used to laugh a lot too, at everything. He liked that, he also was dying to let you know that for a long time, he liked your smile.
“I do?”
“Yeah.”
You frowned in genuine confusion, almost as if you’d never noticed. “I didn’t know… Is that bad?”
“No,” his answer came easily this time, and too fast he had to cleared his throat before composing himself. “I think it’s nice.”
There wasn’t anything loaded behind it, nor did he intend there to be. It came out sounding exactly how he’d meant it, honest enough to be a compliment, casual enough that it didn’t linger in the air to make you uncomfortable.
You smiled again, this time more relaxed. “Well now I’m self-conscious.”
“You smiled while saying that.”
“Fuck.”
“I rest my case.”
You rolled your eyes. “I’ve decided I don’t like you.”
“That was fast.”
“I had big expectations.”
“And I shattered them?”
“You did.”
“Ugh, I’ll never recover from this.” Jungkook said sarcastically. He could tell you liked a good banter.
“I hope you don’t.”
A comfortable silence settled between you two before Jungkook glanced at you again. There was a brief lull in the conversation, not uncomfortable in the slightest, just long enough for you to look at him again with a small crease forming between your brows.
“Can I say something weird?”
“Always.”
“I have this weird feeling we’ve met before.” Jungkook’s heart kicked so violently against his ribs that he almost threw up right there. “I swear you look so familiar.”.
Jungkook tried to keep his expression neutral, lifting one shoulder in a casual shrug despite suddenly becoming hyperaware of every inch of his body. “I was actually thinking the same thing.”
“Were you?”
“Yeah.”
“I feel like…” You squinted at him before talking a pause, eyes narrowing. “Wait—”
Jungkook held his breath as your eyes widened. His pulse immediately doubled. Did you remember? Did you remember the project? Did you actually know him?
You remembered those afternoons in the editing room arguing over the stupid assignment while you painted foam props and laughed at every stupid joke he’d made just because you laughed at everything? Did you remembered sharing cheap vending machine coffee because you’d both been too broke to buy anything else? Did you remembered sitting shoulder to shoulder on the floor of the studio at class trying to finish everything before the deadline because you lost too much time joking around?
You remembered him?
“You remember?.”
“Yes! I knew it!” You pointed at him so suddenly that he almost flinched. “You!”
He smiled before he could stop himself. “Yeah?”
“You almost fucking killed me!”
“I did— What?”
“You almost made me eat shit outside the music building.”
The smile stayed on his face for exactly one more second before it twitched. “Come again?”
“A couple weeks ago!” you said, a little too frantic. You leaned farther over the table, completely invested now. “You came flying around the corner in the hallways of the music building, smashed into me so hard I nearly ate concrete, looked me dead in the eyes and then just…” You made a dramatic gesture with both hands. “…walked away! How rude!”
Silence settled between you two for a couple of seconds. You weren’t really angry, it was obvious. But Jungkook’s brain still had quietly folded in on itself. You clearly didn’t remember and it was obvious you wouldn’t, he wasn’t that important in your life. You wouldn’t remember a simpler project and the hours you spent together in class, it had been too long ago. You just remembered him as the asshole who’d accidentally shoulder-checked you outside a building and disappeared without apologizing.
And he remember that too, he had been too nervous when he noticed he run over you, disappearing without properly apologizing. Clearly you would remember something like that— wasn’t the same day you got Chan’s numbers? Probably why you remembered every detail about it.
Jungkook closed his eyes for a second, scrunching his nose before letting out a defeated laugh.
“That doesn’t sound like me.”
“Dude—”
“Okay, okay,” he lifted his hands, defeated. “ my defense… I was carrying a lot of stuff.”
“No, you were carrying one backpack. I remember because I wanted to hit you with it,” you narrowed your eyes, clearly not bothered but trying to annoy him.
“Totally fair,” he nodded.
“You didn’t even say sorry properly.”
“I was going to.”
“No, you weren’t.”
“I thought about it really hard.”
“Wow. Thank God I can hear thoughts.”
“I assumed you could.”
“How?”
“Well, we declared we were each other best friends then, right? You should clearly know what I was thinking.” He said obvious, pointing at you like you were at fault.
You snorted, clearly entertained. “I didn’t know you were the guy I was talking to!.”
“Then whose fault is this really?”
“Still yours!,” you laughed at loud and Jungkook smiled at that.
He had made you laugh. A win.
He groaned, faking to be annoyed and already accepting defeat. “Okay… You’re right. I’m sorry about that, I was probably having an off day.”
You looked at him for a second before nodding, still looking bright. “I guess I can forgive you. We all have days like that.”
“You’re so thoughtful,” he said jokingly.
“That’s one of my best qualities,” you shrugged like it wasn’t a big thing. “So, tell me best friend, what is your major?”
The conversation slipped into place so naturally that Jungkook almost forgot how terrified he’d been ten minutes earlier. Every time you spoke, you somehow left him with three different ways to answer, and before he realized it you were already teasing each other as though you’d been meeting for coffee every Tuesday instead of hiding behind phone screens for weeks.
Neither of you realized you had stopped being strangers. The disappointment of you not remembering the project lingered only briefly before it was buried beneath another banter and another topic of conversation. And by the time the hours passed, Jungkook noticed he’d stopped rehearsing his replies entirely. He was just… talking, and somehow that felt far less terrifying than everything he’d imagined over the past few weeks.
didn’t even chuckle with this one but their meet up was enough okay bye!! made that robbie joke before someone sent me the victorious ask so now u understand why i was crazy excited. also, yayy she forgot about chan. okkayyy see you in 2 months!!
warnings:18+ MDNI, smut, nipple sucking, cowgirl, cute nicknames, established relationship,
wc: 1k!
jude was already inches deep when your boss rang.
you froze at the ringtone, legs still on either side of judes hips. his back resting up straight against the bed frame, hands on your waist, smirking up at you, "go on, pick it up love"
you thought about it for a few seconds before reaching for your phone. getting dicked down by jude was more important than your job right now. and your boss has been calling you outside of work hours lately and you were getting fed up with it to be fair.
"hello ?" you answered in a chirpy voice. you boss would never guess your pussy was filled with footballer dick right at this moment.
"yes, y/n sorry to bother you again. i'm gonna need you to work on a document if you have time ?"
as you rolled your eyes, jude's eyes shone in mischief. his large hands slipped from your waist to your hips. before you could try anything, you shot him a warning look and shook your head 'no'. sure, your boyfriend was already buried to the hilt when you picked up but it's still your job, you're not going to keep having sex with him when your boss was on the line.
jude put his hands up, eyebrows shooting up, in an attempt to pleading 'innocent' resting his hands back on your thighs. once he was in the clear, he leaned in and stuck out his tongue against one of your nipples making you stop in your sentence.
"of course. what exactly needs to be done with-- with the document ?"
his tongue swirled around the flesh, making both nipples pebble and goosebumps rise in pleasure. jude smiled against your breast at your reaction. he loved teasing you.
you glared at him and gave him another firm shake, but the squeeze of your pussy sucking jude in harder showed him just how turned on you were.
"i need you to complete it, file it away and send it to the client. it's a bit urgent, if you could do it before the end of the day ? i'm so sorry for doing this again. it's a bit hecti.."
when your boyfriend closed his mouth around your nipple and started sucking hard, you started tuning out the voice from behind the phone. you bit your lip to keep quiet, but your breathing became harder. jude watched you the whole time, ego boosting at how easy it was to distract you.
when your ears picked up that your boss's voice stopped, you hummed absentmindedly in agreement, basking in the pleasure of jude's glorious lips on your boobs. he lifted his hand to give attention to your other nipple, but you knew better. if he touched you even more, you wouldn't be able to keep quiet. so before answering your boss, you lifted from his dick a little bit and slammed back down on his hips, hard. the feeling had jude back down, letting out a quiet breathless moan and resting his head against the bedframe in pleasure. oh how he was holding himself back from fucking you senseless right now.
"yeah, no problem, send it to me, i'll let you know when it's done."
jude brought his tongue hard against his cheek, thinking of ways to get back at you because he had to keep quiet as well. his willpower was slipping little by little, and watching you dominate him like that only made him want to shut you up and put you back in your place as his little subby princess.
his hands slid from your thighs to your hips, and he started lifting you up and down on him slowly, making you gasp at the sudden friction.
"thank you so much y/n. you're a lifesaver. let me look for the file." your boss hummed on the other line as he browsed through his messy desktop, looking for the document. jude took the opportunity to snatch your phone, quickly mute your microphone and flipped you over.
"jude!" you squealed. the tables had totally turned. jude was looking down at you with a smirk, your head resting on the fluffy pillow. "ooh baby, don't worry, it'll be quick."
before you could respond, he hooked your legs on top of his shoulders and started out slowly, pumping in and out of you and gradually going faster, just how you like. you were a moaning mess and hearing your boss whisper, "damnit, where is it?" on the speaker made you cover your mouth with your hand. jude tutted, "sorry princess, that's not how it works." your boyfriend grabbed both your wrists and pinned them above your head, using the new position as leverage to fuck you even harder.
he watched hungrily as you moaned. the neighbours could definitely hear.
there you were. his beautiful moaning girlfriend who can't even get through a simple phone call without cock.
"aha ! here it is. sending it you right now." your phone dinged as you received the email.
jude smiled down at you, a sheen layer of sweat covering his body, "you can do it love." he encouraged before leaning down and unmuting the microphone.
as you opened your mouth to answer, jude brought his hand to your clit, circling the nub skillfully.
finally jude could hang up. he immediately pressed the red button and chased after your lips, capturing your mouth in a heated kiss. tongues fighting against each other, sucking, biting, as he simultaneously brought you over the edge with his hand. the squeeze of your pussy milked jude of his cum and he filled you up
author's note: hi,,,,,, 1st writing and posting here,,, kinda nervous
Jungkook fell in love with you after a disastrous programming midterm during freshman year and has been in love ever since. So when you invite him over after your'boyfriend' suggests you guys take a break, he makes a very stupid offer. Now all he can do is pray you don't slap him across the face and maybe, just maybe comply to his request. He's looking out for you after all, isn't he?
PAIRING: best friend!jk x reader
GENRE: smut, angst
WC: 6.3k
WARNINGS: boyfriend!kai kinda, they're on a 'break' so it's up to you guys to decide if there's infidelity or not, jk's hungry and yearning, unrequited love (gotta write the fluffiest fluff after this), jealousy, smut wise: oral (f receiving), he fucks her w his nose kinda? i don't fucking know, dirty talk, missionary (he's in love okay eg), big d jk but when is he not at this point
NOTES: so if you think you might have seen this before, it’s because you have!!! this is an edited repost because i hated it the first time i posted it. i feel terrible and completely not in my element because i’ve abandoned both this blog and writing for so much longer than i anticipated. pls lmk i can still write and did not lose the entirety of my talent, if i ever had any. lmao love you guys hope you like it <3
The first time Jungkook met Kim Jongin, your tongue was down his throat and your hips were drawing eights on his lap.
Literally.
He remembers it all too clearly because you had introduced your boyfriend approximately five seconds earlier before he pulled you back into his lap like he was trying to prove to the whole world that he had somehow managed to bag a girl like you and wasn't planning on letting anybody forget it. He had spent the whole night with you between his arms as if a sole minute of separation would mean risking losing you to somebody else.
Jungkook still thinks about that day sometimes, with a large emphasis on the sometimes. He thinks about that big, alluring smile on your pretty face when you'd excitedly introduced your boyfriend. He thinks about the sound of your laughter whenever Jongin whispered sweet nothings into your ear, or the way you'd curled closer into his embrace as the night grew darker and quieter like it was the most natural thing in the world. Jungkook still thinks about it all. Sometimes.
Oh how he wishes Jongin really did lose you that day.
But he didn't. In fact, he kept you on his lap for a solid two devastating years.
Not that Jungkook could blame him. He couldn't. Not when he was one glance away from busting a nut the moment he saw you walk into the room that day in his favorite pink skirt of yours.
But the feeling was short lived, only lasting for a few seconds until his eyes dropped down to the man's hand you were holding in your own. Lucky bastard.
You were Jungkook's best friend. So, in retrospect, the ways he'd shamelessly picture you at night were no where near normal. In fact, it made the best friend title he had once loved so much sound utterly ridiculous when said out loud. Because Jungkook was, in the humblest way possible, obsessed with you.
And well, you see, the thing is— Jungkook didn't slowly fall in love with you. Yes, he is in love with you, okay? Life is life and he is long past the point of trying to deny or rationalize the feelings he has for you. You are, in Jungkook's words, an angel fallen from the sky. A temptation disguised as something innocent.
He thinks he would've went to war for you— okay, maybe that is a stretch. But he would crack a one wish willow for you. Responsibly, of course.
Anyways, Jungkook has been in love with you for three entire years and he remembers the exact day it all happened. He remembers the exact moment his heart rate picked up, the exact second he felt birds shitting inside his stomach. He remembers everything.
It happened sometime during freshman year on a random Thursday evening after a truly horrific programming midterm (half the reason why he remembers it so vividly is because of how successfully he managed to fail that exam).
The two of you had ended up sitting on the floor of your tiny dorm room, backs pressed against the sides of your bed, discussing how south your academic careers magically went in the span of ninety minutes.
One minute you were talking normally, making stupid jokes about the fact that neither of you knew where the recursive function was supposed to stop, and next you were crying. Actually crying. All because of the semicolon you forgot to include somewhere between the endless lines of codes you were miserably trying to write and hell handled the rest of it.
He doesn't really remember if the code ever worked, or whether you failed the class as terribly as he did. What he remembers is the way you kept apologizing for crying, as if being upset and vulnerable around him was just so horrible. Unaware of how he was already so down bad he'd give you his kidney if you ever asked.
Even though he knows when, he doesn't really know why. Maybe it was the fact that you trusted him enough to let him see parts of yourself you tried so damn hard to hide, or maybe it was the way you folded into his arms when he hugged you properly for the first time ever, as though your body was made to be molded with his and continue living as one.
But it doesn't really matter, because he's still pathetically in love with you the same way he was three years ago. Maybe now it's even worse.
How can he not be when you look like that? People would sit up straighter when you walked into a room, look up at the sky and the birds and everything in between just to try not to stare too much.
Jongin, however, stared anyway. And the next thing he knew, you were screaming Jongin's name late at night while Jungkook was fisting his own cock wishing it were him instead.
And, despite how sick it sounds when said out loud, the most unfortunate thing according to Jungkook was that you were happy. Like, genuinely happy. Because Jungkook knew it would be easier to move past everything if Jongin was an absolute piece of shit and didn't treat you the way you deserved.
But he did. He made you so happy that even the idea of hating him was logically impossible. Because every time Jungkook tried, and trust me he tried, he'd catch you looking at your boyfriend like he gifted you the stars and suddenly feel like the biggest asshole alive.
But Jungkook never really claimed to be a decent person.
So he hated Jongin anyway. Quietly, in between ugly moments that belonged to the two of you and had nothing to do with him. He hated him when you weren't looking, when you were too upset to care, when you were over the moon and way too happy to notice the pettiness in his eyes.q He hated Jongin without letting you know. He wasn't that terrible of a friend, after all.
The point is, Jungkook watched your relationship take root and bloom into flowers from behind the fence of a beautiful garden and behaved admirably well about it.
He silently counted the remaining petals of your seemingly undying love as months dragged themselves into years. The fragile little bud slowly flourished into a ravishing dahlia and Jungkook watched it bloom. He watched two years pass in a devastating haze as you loved your boyfriend loudly with the kind of devotion that made everybody else in the room gag and roll their eyes in envy.
Now the dahlia is dead.
Jungkook had thought about this before. He'd fantasized about your break up and everything that would come along with it. He thought that when the flower finally faded, all that's left of it would be wilted petals scattered across your apartment floor and your tear strained face laying on his shoulder while you tried to explain through sobs and hiccups exactly how bad said Kim Jongin broke your heart.
Except, when the day finally comes, that's not what happens.
Right now you look…fine?
"You know what his problem is?" You say, irritation written all over your features.
Jungkook, who has spent the last two years hearing the everlasting matters of an impressively detailed list of Kim Jongin's problems, takes a sip from his beer. "Several things come to mind."
You squint your eyes at him, hands dropping at both your sides. "Be serious for a second."
"I am! I'm being dead serious." He says, throwing both hands in air, but the grin on his face keeps on growing.
You don't know why he has been grinning stupidly for the past hour, mostly because you can't really see yourself the way he does. But Jungkook can, obviously. And he can not help that smile from growing as his gaze drifts over you for what must be the hundredth time today, taking in the sight of his favorite hoodie and your bare legs and the fact that you're finally single.
Well, sort of. Kind of. Maybe.
"Okay." You continue. "Tell me if i'm being ridiculous."
"You know i will."
"Good." You say, fixing your posture as Jungkook braces himself for what's to come.
"He asked for a break."
Jungkook blinks. "Okay."
"And then he spends the next four days acting like we're still together. He texts me good morning, sends me TikToks when i'm supposed to be sleeping," You pause, inhaling a short breath. "He went feral yesterday because Mingyu commented under my post."
Oh. Oh.
"And then he proceeds to tell me maybe some distance would be healthy."
Jungkook's eyebrows pull together. "Distance from what?"
"That's what i'm asking!" You exclaim, walking over to the couch, plopping your body next to his. "He's driving me insane."
"That's because he is insane."
You roll your eyes. "God, you hate him."
"That's a reach." You send a look in his way at the words, then he sighs. "Okay, maybe i like him a teeny tiny bit less than the average person."
You groan, dropping your head against the couch cushion. "Knew it."
And besides you, that stupid smile has already made its way back onto Jungkook's lips and it takes a whole lot in you to refrain from throwing the TV remote at his face.
Your head snaps towards him. "Can you stop looking so happy?"
He cocks a brow. "Happy? I'm not happy. I've been sitting here listening to you complain for at least an hour"
"You're enjoying this."
He lets his head fall onto the backrest. "God, i'm not. It's just that you've been miserable for a week and now you're finally angry."
"I've been angry all week." You say like it's obvious.
"No, you were sad."
Okay, to be fair, you never really thought of it like that. But it seems as though Jungkook has and for some reason, he's kind of correct.
You've spent the past week trying to find out what Jongin wanted. You tried so hard to understand and fix and make sense of it all so that you wouldn't need to have this conversation with Jungkook right now. Maybe this is the first time you've let yourself be angry instead and it feels significantly better.
"I think what's bothering me isn't the break." You tuck your legs beneath you, settling further into the couch. "It's that he can't even bother to tell me what's actually going on yet still acts like we're perfectly fine."
Jungkook's eyes lift from the coffee table he was staring at, then turns towards you. "Can i be honest?"
You sigh dramatically, already giving him the permission. "When are you not?"
Jungkook laughs awkwardly, then scratches the back of his neck. Terrible, terrible sign. "I think you're giving him too much power."
You blink. "Jungkook, he's my boyfriend."
God, woman. Do you have to say it like that?
His stomach drops at the word, but doesn't let it show. "I know what he is. What i'm trying to say is, he won't tell you what he actually wants and still you're the one trying to solve it."
You stare at him silently, and he continues. "Maybe this time, focus on what you want instead of losing your mind over what he wants."
Silence paints every corner of the room, coating everything from the pillows and the furniture all the way to the fruit on the table in shades of blue. Until you finally break it.
"What if i don't know?" The way the question leaves your mouth is so small and quiet Jungkook thinks he wants to chew your cheeks until they're pink and puffy.
"Then figure it out." He says instead, then shrugs.
"Wow, your capacity is two logical sentences before you go back to being an unhelpful asshole."
A smile tugs at his lips. "I try my best." He says, then winks as the can of Stella sways carelessly in his hand.
You groan before grabbing a pillow and screaming into it, causing Jungkook to snort and the beer to bubble at the corners of his mouth.
He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, chuckling before speaking. "You really want me to help?"
You nod, swift and immediate, big eyes looking up his face innocently as Jungkook tries so hard not to milk his cock at the way you're currently batting your eyelashes at him.
He sighs, allowing his body to get more comfortable on the soft cushion of your sofa. "I think you should…unwind a little."
Your mouth parts in disbelief. "Of course you would think that!" You exclaim, surprising Jungkook a little by how sudden and loud your voice comes out. "Your sole purpose in life is to fuck every living organism with a pussy and i'm sitting here expecting you to give me solid advice. But it's my fault, i should've known."
Jungkook's eyes widen slightly. "Woah. First of all, ouch, princess. I didn't know you thought of me like that."
Guilt arrives the moment his voice reaches your ears, the sarcastic comment that was once ready to be fired back getting caught somewhere in the middle of your throat before dying out completely.
You didn't mean it like that, that's for sure. But you didn't expect Jungkook to take it the way he did, either. He's still smiling, still looking at you like you're the light of his universe, but there is something behind his eyes that makes your stomach churn and chest sting in a way that almost makes you nauseous.
"Sorry, you know i didn't mean that." You recollect yourself quickly, finding your courage back in the smile he gifts you. "What i'm trying to say is, it's been a week since we broke things off. A week, Jungkook. I'm not even sure if we've really broken up or not."
"What i think," Jungkook settles his beer on the coffee table, then shifts closer to you. "is that this is an excellent opportunity to explore your options." He says, tone dropping down by an octave.
You scoff. "I'm not throwing myself onto a stranger's lap just to relax a little."
"Nobody said anything about a stranger."
Excuse you?
You choke on fucking air, trying to breathe through a constellation of short breaths and coughs. "Sorry, i don't think i'm following." You manage to say once your breath is evened out.
"You know exactly what i mean, princess." Now he's staring straight into your eyes and you're not sure if the way your heart is handling the situation is actually healthy. His voice is quieter, deeper in a way that's the exact opposite to how one should be talking to their best friend.
"You want to…help me unwind?" You ask carefully. Damn that word. What the fuck does it even mean to unwind?
Jungkook places a hand on your thigh, pulling you closer. "Think of it as a…favor. You remember that one time you saved my hamster's life last semester?"
"No," You shake your head, completely and utterly lost in a daze. "No, not really." Yeah. He doesn't either.
He nods slowly, the corners of his mouth curling. "Yeah, you did. So let me return the favor. Please."
You think you're going to throw up. You think you're going to throw up so hard the both of you will be drowned inside the disgusting green liquid and won't ever see the light of day again.
What do you mean Jungkook is asking, begging for you to let him fuck you so that you'll be exploring your options and letting yourself unwind? What do you fucking mean Jeon motherfucking Jungkook, your dear, beloved best friend, is offering himself up just for you to relax a little and take your mind off of your ex-but-not-really-ex-boyfriend?
Okay, in all honesty, you'd be lying to say you've never thought about it. Never seriously, really, but you have. Because, you see; sky is blue, gravity is times ten, and Jeon Jungkook is attractive. Half the female population has reached that conclusion within the first thirty seconds of meeting him and it doesn't take you to make that into a fact.
There had always ben teeny, tiny moments where you'd find yourself thinking about him for a fleeting second longer than you should have. Moments where he'd smile, moments where his biceps would flex a little too deliciously while doing basic human activities essential for survival, moments where somebody would ask if you were together and your stomach would twist for just a fraction of a second before pretending it never happened.
Those moments were very much real and already carved into the history books of you and Jungkook's years long friendship. But you had never thought of it like that, you never let yourself to think about it like that. You were in a fully committed, fully devoted relationship for two whole years, for god's sake.
And you don't even know if you're still in it or not.
Maybe you're reaching and he only wants to do something oh so nice for his best friend. Maybe he's pitying you, maybe he doesn't even find you attractive and the only reason he's doing this is because he's fed up with your sulkings and wants to have a peaceful night for once.
Point is, said Jeon Jungkook is still sitting next to you. He's still looking right into your eyes with his big brown ones. The warmth of his hand is still occupying your thigh and maybe— Maybe, the idea of fucking Jeon Jungkook isn't so bad after all.
You collect every ounce of dignity that's left in you and find your voice. "Do you hear yourself, Jungkook?" You ask, voice quieter than you planned it out to be.
"Crystal fucking clear, princess."
You feel his breath on yours when he says that, and it burns. It burns your lips and your stomach and before you know it, you feel it all the way down between your legs.
"Will you let me?" He says into your ear, and even though the words are barely above a whisper, the weight of them feels so heavy you feel yourself crushing underneath it. Your bare legs are draped over his thick thighs now, the closure of your bodies making it impossibly harder to refrain from crashing your lips into his.
You've completely abandoned every form of coherent thinking as you finally find the fortitude to nod. And before you can do anything reasonable fix it, you feel Jungkook's lips on yours.
He kisses you hungrily, as if he wants you to wither and decay until you exist for him and him only. His hands wrap around your waist while you pull him in deeper by his neck, his fingertips kissing the silver of skin exposed by the thin fabric of your tank top.
Your head feels dizzy as his hands roam all over your body, feeling and carving every inch of your skin into his mind so that he can draw the outline of body and get it inked onto his heart. He pours every ounce of his heart and soul and coats your lips with it, leaving pieces of his love and marking them onto your bare skin.
Jungkook lays you down on the couch, the action feeling way too gentle with his arms wrapped around you, body hovering over yours as his warm tongue swipes against your bottom lip. You're the one to pull away first, because it seems as though Jungkook has the stamina of a fucking dolphin and doesn't need oxygen to survive like the average human.
He stares into your eyes like the entirety of his world is living inside them. You watch the rise and fall of his chest before pulling him in once again, fingers grazing the back of his neck.
When his teeth tugs at your bottom lip, deepening the kiss, your legs part instinctively to accommodate his body. Jungkook starts grinding his hips over your clothed core, and your legs part even wider, then wrap around his waist.
His cock presses deliciously into your core, already so hard and so ready, desperate for any type of friction. And God, is he desperate. This man has spent years dreaming about your warmth and he is going to make every second worth it.
"Jungkook," You moan into his mouth, and Jungkook swallows it right back. He slides his tongue into your mouth at the opportunity, searching you deeper and deeper.
"Gonna take such good care of you." He says after pulling away, placing wet kisses onto your jaw, then your collarbone. He stops when he reaches your chest, hands toying with the hem of your tank top. The only thing you can do is squirm under him.
You give him a consensual nod when he eyes you from below, silently letting him know you want it off of you just as much as he does. Jungkook pulls the thin fabric over your shoulders, then physically falters at the sight of your boobs. And they're not even bare.
He's going to fucking die.
He wants to bury his face in your chest and suffocate between your tits. He wants his lungs to be completely rid of oxygen until he can register nothing but the feeling of your soft boobs against his skin.
He presses a few kisses on the soft swell of your boobs, fingertips tracing lines over the white lace before unhooking your bra. You arch in aid for him, lifting yourself up slightly so that he can reach a little easier. Jungkook lets the lace fabric fall onto the ground near the couch, then gasps audibly at the mere sight of your naked tits.
"Fucking hell." He says, and you can't help but let your chest swell with pride when he reacts oh so desperately, worries you once had of him not finding you attractive disappearing completely.
If Jungkook ever heard that you were self conscious in the slightest bit, he would fuck you so impossibly hard until you understood how weak of a man he was for you— not that he won't regardless.
He takes a nipple into his mouth and toys with the other, flicking the hardened nub between his fingers. The sounds you let out are obscene, pornographic even. You're a mess from so much as him sucking on your tits and Jungkook can only imagine how unreal you're going to sound when he finally fucks you.
He crawls further to the opposite end of the couch, hands fiddling with the zipper of your tiny denim shorts that are a terrible excuse of clothing. Because they cover absolutely nothing and Jungkook has been hard since the moment you opened the door for him earlier.
He pulls down your shorts along with your panties, patience running way too thin to tease you over the delicate lace fabric. There is nothing delicate about this. Jungkook has been starving for years and he is going to make sure you know it.
He spreads your legs, placing both hands on your inner thighs to open you up for him. He feels his breath physically hitch at the sight of your bare pussy right in front of his eyes. Wet, aching and already leaking with arousal. Straight out of his dreams. Literally.
Jungkook hooks your legs over his shoulders, then pulls you closer towards his face. You whimper when he first feels you up with his fingers, dragging his fingertip up and down your slit before opening up your folds, spreading them wide with two fingers.
"Such a perfect fucking pussy. And you've been hiding it from me for years, baby. Letting boys who can't even satisfy you touch you while i'm right here."
He slowly slides a finger inside you, eyes focused on your face as he watches over the way your face evolves through the depths of pleasure.
"Fuck, Koo. More, please." You moan, grinding your hips in air, eager for his touch.
"Yeah? Want more, baby?" He asks, sliding another finger into your pussy, pace devastatingly slow. "Holy shit, you're so fucking wet."
You nod rapidly from above, tears building at the corners of your eyes, pussy aching and begging for his mouth. "Y-yes, yes Koo. So wet for you. Please."
Jungkook complies without another word. He pulls out his fingers before diving into your cunt. He sucks on your clit first, and you cry out in pleasure the second his hot, wet mouth contacts your bare core.
Jungkook moans into your pussy when your hands fly to his hair, fisting his soft locks and pulling him impossibly closer. He slides his tongue down to your aching hole, then places his nose on your clit, having absolutely no desire to leave it untouched.
As he fucks into your hole with his tongue, his nose presses against your clit, and you swear it makes you see white light for a second. Your back arches involuntarily and you keep on tugging at his hair as he forces you to your high, nose continuing to draw circles on your clit as he stimulates your cunt
"Shit, Jungkook, 'm so close." Jungkook's tongue strokes through your folds faster as your cries grow louder and louder. Your thighs shake embarrassingly and your back arches even further when you finally reach your high, and Jungkook grounds you with a hand on your hip through it all, rubbing your clit in circles.
Once you've fully ridden out your orgasm, he licks you clean, slurping the entirety of your juices. "Tastes fucking incredible."
He comes up to kiss you again, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. You tug at the hem of his shirt as he sucks on your bottom lip, then pulls it over his head to grant you your wish.
It takes everything in you and more to not gasp at the sight of his naked body when he pulls down his sweats after. Because suddenly, Jungkook looks like you want to give him three babies and a house.
You have seen him shirtless countless times before. You've went to pool parties and summer vacations and places that require the least amount of clothes. But never has it affected you like this.
You knew Jungkook was attractive. You knew he had a solid physique and a face that would probably be worth millions if he was smart enough to abandon the misery of engineering and pursued modeling instead.
But it had never once felt like you need to drop to your knees and take every inch of his cock into your mouth until he's bleeding and crying and can not produce sperm anymore.
"Like what you see, baby? Want me to fuck you stupid?" He says, stroking himself over the fabric of his boxers as he watches you squirm beneath him.
You nod frantically. "Please, Jungkook." You beg for the nth time in the span of twenty minutes, not even thinking anymore, voice standing somewhere between a cry and a whine.
He drags down his boxers, and your mouth parts at the sight of his bare cock. Because what the actual fuck? Your best friend has been packing, walking around with that all this time and you didn't have a single clue?
Your mouth opens before you can help yourself. "I don't think that's gonna—"
He cuts you off. "It will, baby. If you stop talking and take it like the good girl you are, we'll make it fit."
You shut your mouth immediately after that, laying on the sofa silently as he pumps his length while staring down at you. Legs spread, body spent, everything so hot and messy.
He positions himself at your entrance, dragging his cock over your folds, spreading your slick all over your swollen pussy. He enters you in a pace dreadfully slow, making sure you feel every inch of his length between your wet walls. And god, it's so fucking wet. Arousal is dripping down your pussy all the way to your ass, slick staining the beige fabric of the couch cushions. You almost feel embarrassed at how wet you are, because you're soaking to the point where he'll slide right in without even trying yet he's doing the complete opposite.
You want him to slam into you. You want him to fuck you so hard you cry on his cock. You want Jeon Jungkook to fucking break you because if you think about whatever today will mean for you in the future, for even a split second, you'll cry like a fucking baby.
Because you don't know what to do with any of this. The things he's saying, the way he's looking at you, the way he's holding you…It all feels way too intimate for a guy like him.
You don't know for sure if it's the high speaking but if not, it seems as though your best friend has built entire dreams around you that you never knew existed.
"Do you know how many times i've thought about this? Fantasized about this pretty pussy while you played house with your pathetic little boyfriend?" Yeah, that confirms your worries.
Once he's fully inside you, you feel deliciously stretched, walls clenching around his length. Your back arches off the bed involuntarily and you cry out in pleasure before he even properly thrusts into you.
You don't think you've ever taken a cock this big. Honestly, you don't think anyone else has a cock this big. Certainly, if you did, you'd never shut up about it.
Jungkook finds his pace after you adjust yourself to the stretch, fucking you fast and hard without wasting any more time. But the funny thing is, he looks into your eyes with so much love through it all, as if he isn't fucking you brutally, splitting you open on his massive cock.
He lets out a trenchant moan of your name. "I'm right here." He says, completely lost in the moment, and you'd think he was about to cry if he wasn't pounding into you at a pace so inhumane. "I've always been right here."
You decide to completely disregard his words, grabbing him by the neck and crashing your lips onto his. You need him to stop talking. You need him to shut up and fuck you like it means nothing.
Your head is a mess, your heart isn't beating properly, a million different thoughts pass through your mind, and the way Jungkook is kissing you doesn't help at all. This isn't helping you unwind. Not even close. This is fucking with your head even further and you have no idea the kind of morning you will wake up to tomorrow.
When you cum, it happens big and loud. You cry out his name, legs shaking and back arching off the couch. Jungkook fucks you through it, chasing his own high as you try holding yourself together through the overstimulation, because he fucks you until it hurts.
"Where do you want me?" He asks, voice low and breathy.
You sabotage yourself one last time— hopefully. "Inside, please. Fill me up, Jungkook."
That seems to be the last straw. Jungkook groans loudly, then spills his seeds inside you, making you feel so hot and full. His head falls back as he thrusts into you a few more times. And before you can open your eyes, he collides onto you and the warmth of his body spreads concurs yours.
Afterwards, the sound of your shared breaths and pants are the only indicators of life. His chest stays pressed against yours, breath hot in your ear, sweat trilling down both your bodies and mixing into each other.
The silence feels painful, because you have never experienced it with Jungkook before. There had never once been a moment where you didn't know what to say or what to do when it came to Jungkook. Turns out, there is a first for everything. Because each word, each sentence you construct in different parts of your brain dies down before you can even think about feeling them on your tongue.
Your breathing gradually settles, but your heartbeat doesn't. You stare at the ceiling over his shoulder, because there is absolutely no way you can look into his eyes right now.
You clear your throat first. "Well…
Jungkook lets out something between a breath and a laugh. "Yeah."
"I think," You begin carefully. "That definitely counts as unwinding.",
His lips twitch despite himself, then lifts his body slowly off yours. "I deserve a thank you gift, then."
You scoff. "I'm not gonna suck your dick, Jungkook."
He laughs loudly, reaching for his boxers. "You said it, not me."
A smile lingers on your lips, because for a moment, everything feels normal. The sound of his laugh, the look on his face, the words on his tongue…For a moment, you feel like none of it really happened. Until you look down at your naked body and realize you're desperately in need of covering up.
Jungkook hands you his shirt as if he just read your mind, and you give him a tight lipped smile before sliding it on. "We're…" You start, but your voice trails off.
Jungkook's eyes soften. "We're okay."
But are you really? Because in all honesty, you don't really know what okay feels like anymore. Just five hours ago, Jungkook was your best friend. Now, he's still your best friend. Except you've crossed a line that's now completely blurred. Somewhere between his touch and your heartbeat and all the things he whispered pretending they don't matter, everything started to feel too heavy you're not sure you can continue carrying it all without letting it mean something.
And the problem is so much bigger than Jungkook. You know you love that man. You love him so much your chest aches. Maybe not in the way he so desperately wishes you do, but there is no doubt you'd get there in no time if you gave it a try. So if tonight costs you your best friend, you'll never forgive yourself.
The bigger problem is that, there is still a part of you that belongs to the two years you spent loving Jongin. It's impossible to erase two whole years just because one conversation went wrong and the following days were managed terribly. God, you fucked up bad.
"I don't regret it, i want you to know that."
He exhales slowly. "I do."
"I just…" You search for the right words, but it feels as though they don't exist. "Everything's a mess, i don't know where to go from here." You close your eyes for a brief second, trying to recollect your heartbeat.
"It's only been a few days, and we're not even…officially…" Your voice trails off, because you can not bring yourself to finish the sentence. Because if you say the words out loud, it will feel even more real than it already does.
Jungkook stares at the floor, eyes still stuck there as he starts speaking. "You don't owe me anything."
Your head snaps towards him. "What?"
"This didn't happen because i pity you or something. I don't want you to think that. I know exactly why it happened and however you want to go about this is fine with me."
Your brows pull together. "Why then?"
Jungkook smiles gently, sitting down next to you. "Are you sure you want to hear it right now?" He says, catching your eyes in his.
You nibble at your bottom lip, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes at the silent confirmation he gives you. No, you don't want to hear it right now. What you feel is already way too much and hearing him say it out loud will break you thoroughly if it didn't already.
"I don't want to lose you." You manage to mutter out, voice quiet, the words breaking around the edges.
He offers you another smile, pulling you into his chest. "You won't."
You want to believe him. You want to believe him so fucking bad but it feels like you've already lost parts of him you can never reach again.
And Jungkook knows that. He swears he's in full knowledge of every thought flashing across your mind right now and he can do nothing about it besides comforting you that everything will be okay.
He could tell you. He could finally say the three words that have spent three years trapped inside the dearest corners of his throat. He could tell you that this impulsive mistake wasn't born from a few bottles of beer and a broken heart. He could tell you he'd loved you long before tonight.
But instead, he swallows every word and tucks them right back into where he has kept them locked all this time. He loves you too much to become another lump in your throat, another weight for you to carry. If pretending this means less to him than it does will let oxygen pass easier through your lungs, then he'll pretend.
He has loved you long enough to know he shouldn't be selfish tonight.
And he will continue loving you. Quietly, like he has done all this time. And whenever you let him, if you ever do, he will love you so loudly you'll never be in this position again.
He will lock this memory somewhere safe and offer you the keys whenever you're ready. Until then, he will keep replaying parts of it late at night wishing every form of sorry known to mankind on his heart.
Can’t stop thinking about how riding him would be so hot.
Like, yes, we know he’s fucking attractive but i think sex with him is hotter because he wants you to use him to make yourself feel good and he doesn’t mind one bit.
He keeps himself trimmed instead of waxing or shaving completely because he pays attention when you’re riding him and knows how good you feel when you’re grinding your clit on his pubes and he’s just grinning from ear to ear when he hears your moans.
“Does that feel good, baby?” his hands moving to your ass to help you grind harder and faster.
Your hands are on his chest, legs spread wide on each side on his hips, hips rolling back and forth on him, you can feel his cock stretching you a bit more with every movement, your lips are parted letting out whines and moans and your head is thrown back from how much pleasure he is giving you.
“Mhmmm, you feel so thick and are so big, Jude,” you catch your bottom lip in between your teeth, he’s looking up at you with a smile and his hands start wandering over your body, touching every inch of skin he can reach.
“All for you, baby, just wanna make me girl feel so good, hm? How’s that needy clit? Is it feeling good, darling?” he coos, voice dropping as he makes eye contact with you.
Your brows scrunching in pleasure from his words and his touch.
“Mhmmm, yeah, so, so good. God, you’re so hot,” you sigh, hips now moving in circles, pressing down on him firmer.
Jude’s hands place on your hips, his thumbs stroking your skin slowly.
“There you go, baby, use me, make yourself come on me, okay? You deserve it, honey, come for me,”
Oh and he never stops talking. He knows you get off on his voice too so he doesn’t stop, not even when you’re crying out right on the edge of approaching an orgasm. He just loves praising you and mix it with dirty talking.
“Harder, baby, rub that wet pussy on me,”
“Deeper, you can do it, can you? Take that cock deeper, baby, it’ll make you feel even better,”
“You have no idea how beautiful you look up there bouncing on thy dick, does it feel good, angel? I bet it does, you can’t stop moaning,”
“Look how hot these tits are bouncing for me, sweetheart,”
He’d wet his fingers while looking deadly into your soul and then slowly lead them to your clit and draw a slow, gentle motion to help you come faster.
“So, so pretty, there you go, making that pretty clit feel good, yeah?” he says softly.
And after you’re a mess on his chest trying to catch your breath his hands are rubbing your back helping you calm down and he’s whispering sweet nothings into your ear.
“You did so good, baby, such a good girl, I’m so proud of you,”
“I love you, honey, you alright?”
“Do you need water? Are you comfortable like this?”
Always checking up on you, trying to make you feel safe and comfortable around him before, during and after sex.
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warning: smut, kissing, dirty talking, ft. taehyung, jealous kook bc ofc he is, slight age gap, power imbalance, naive reader, she's just a girl frfr, manipulation, affair/cheating, alcohol intake, slight intoxication, body shots, groping, grinding/dry humping, nipple sucking, dirty talking, finger sucking, unprotected sex, fingering, oral sex (f), overstimulation, creampie,
part one |
you attend the college party jungkook insisted on you coming to, only to realize he doesn’t like your attention on someone other than him.
Your jean skirt is tight and stops mid thigh. You feel weird wearing clothing that isn’t yours. Your cousin found it in her closet, discarded and forgotten about. She had held it out for you, insisting you try it on. “It actually looks nice on you.” she had said, looking up from her phone. “You want me to do your makeup?”
You knew walking into this party that whatever you were going to wear wasn’t “frat party” worthy. The graphic tee you sported gave you a few compliments from other girls when you walked through the door. You could feel your nerves drumming against your body as if in sync with the loud music. Your eyes scan the sea of party goers, majority in which you had not a clue who they were.
“You aren’t going?” you recall asking your cousin hesitantly. She had placed lipgloss onto your lips and instructed you to rub them in.
You hoped your cousin would change her mind and not leave you alone, knowing that nothing would happen between you and Jungkook if she was around. It was growing harder to even look at yourself in the mirror, let alone her, after what you and Jungkook had done earlier. Your thighs clenched at just the thought of his fingers plunged deep inside of you.
“No, I have an event, remember?” your cousin shakes her head. She looked at you and offered a smile. “Make sure you have fun, okay? Live a little.”
The music is blaring and the home is entirely crowded, seas of people all around mingling - some dancing, some cheering as others chug down beer.
You told Jungkook you’d meet him here instead of him coming to get you. It wouldn’t be odd for the two of you to enter together. You’re sure no one would bat an eye, either way. Yet, you couldn’t face him just yet without your mind wandering to places they shouldn’t.
Now you’re unsure if you’d ever be able to find Jungkook here at all.
Instead, it’s Jungkook who finds you. You stick out, but not in the normal way. Instead of going to you when he initially caught you walking through the front door, he decided on watching you. Your legs look so soft and long, the jean skirt short and tight. He remembers this skirt, he notes, as it belonged to your cousin. The shirt is equally tight and a bit cropped, your lower back peaking through as he watches you stroll between the sea of bodies like a hawk.
You stuck out simply because you kept to yourself. You didn’t speak to anyone besides the small nods and a few inaudible, “thanks” you give to other women who compliment you.
You don’t grab a drink. You don’t dance.
It’s utterly noticeable that you’re unsure what to do. This is your first party, after all, and it’s far too noticeable.
“I’m glad you made it.”
You feel a hand on your waist, warm breath tickling your ear.
“I was suspecting you were going to bail on me.” Jungkook’s fingers tap along your waist as he tugs you along with him as he walks. He doesn’t say ‘excuse me’ as he walks through the crowd of people, but they move automatically as he and you walk by. He leads you to the kitchen where it’s less crowded, but a game of beer pong is being played.
“Want a drink?” Jungkook questions.
Jungkook’s cologne hits your nose because of how close he is. Your heart jolts as your eyes connect with his. He stares intently at you, awaiting for your response. “No pressure.” he murmurs, a small smirk forming onto his lips. “We have juice.”
You blink, snapping out of whatever trance you were placed upon. “I’ll have whatever you’re having.” you say quickly, your body warming with embarrassment. “I thought about bailing.” you admit.
Jungkook raises a brow. He goes towards the long island where an array of drinks are sat. You’ve never seen so many different varieties of alcohol all at once. “Is that so?” he asks. He grasps a clear plastic cup from a stack besides an opened bottle of apple juice. “What changed your mind?” he questions.
You watch as Jungkook rounds the island and lowers his body for a few seconds before emerging with ice now inside said plastic cup. He then grasps the nearest alcohol drink he could grasp - rum.
“I…” you shrug your shoulders. “...just wanted to have fun.”
Jungkook glances up at you. He was a pro at this, you think, not spilling any of the clear liquid as he poured it into your cup. Then, he offers you a grin. “I’m glad. I’ll make sure you have a lot of fun.”
Jungkook hands you back your drink before you have time to process that he’s poured something else inside of it. It had to be juice, you think, grabbing it from his tattooed hand hesitantly.
“And who’s this?”
Just as you bring the rim to your lips, an arm wraps around Jungkook. You recognize him as one of Jungkook’s friends.
“Tae,” Jungkook nods. “this is Y/N.”
“Y/N…Y/N!” Taehyung offers a smile. His eyes widen with realization. “So you’re the baby cousin.”
You scoff. “Yeah.” you murmur. You take a sip of the drink and hum. You’re surprised that it didn’t taste bad - or too strong.
“Are you here alone?” Taehyung questions. “Or did she come with you? Any friends?”
You shake your head. “She’s net-”
“-working?” Taehyung finishes your sentence for you and laughs. Under his own gaze, you feel your cheeks warm. “She’s always doing that, isn’t she? I’m glad you came.”
Jungkook feels his friend remove his arm from his shoulder. Taehyung goes to pour himself a drink, only he pours an array of shots, using the display of neon shot glasses on the table.
“Did you come to have fun?” Taehyung questions, glancing up at you.
Your hand squeezes the drink in your hand slightly. Taehyung is handsome, you note, dark brown hair that appears to be styled professionally, yet so simply natural. He holds your eyes long enough for you to feel yourself blush in embarrassment.
Jungkook glances from you to his friend, a slight tilt to his head.
“Y-Yeah.” you murmur, nodding slightly. “I’ve never been to a party like this before.”
Jungkook feels like he’s been given a back seat to it all. He watches the way you and Taehyung interact. He watches the way his friend passes you the shot and laughs when your face scrunches with disgust, but nonetheless you laugh along with him.
Jungkook watches it all, he notes. The way your once tense shoulders relax and you laugh just as loud as everyone else. You hadn’t cared about if you were being watched yourself because you were having fun.
Even when you all moved towards the crowded patio, you laughed and cheered along with Taehyung during a game of beer pong. He allows you to, finding that he liked watching you like this. Open. Carefree.
What Jungkook didn’t like was the way his friend held your hips as he assisted you in a game of pool. He had gone to get a beer and returned to watch the scene unfold. You’re none the wiser under Taehyung’s predatory gaze. You were a lamb in front of a salivating wolf that wants to pounce, but decides against it.
Jungkook leans against the wall, taking a sip of his beer as you now lean against the pool table. You’re facing Taehyung, your face dangerously close to him.
There’s a quick moment in which Jungkook’s eyes meet with Taehyung’s. His friend’s eyes flicker upwards and find him, even with the amount of people around. Everyone is in their own world, but it’s as though his friend knew exactly where to look to catch sight of him.
It isn’t a secret - to his group of friends, at least - what Jungkook does with you. They don’t judge him. They don’t blame him, either. Jungkook was a man just as they were, and sometimes men had their own reasonings for why they do the things they do. Their reasoning doesn’t have to be right, but it’s understood without having to be said.
What Taehyung is telling Jungkook now with just a simple look is simple; ‘if you don’t, I will’.
“You smell so good~” Taehyung chuckles, his lips stretching into a smile, showcasing a row of pearly white teeth. “What’s wrong?”
Your body is radiating heat you aren’t sure is possible. You feel Taehyung’s hand lift your chin upwards, his head tilted just a bit. He studies you, eyes taking in each outline of your face - the curve of your lips, the arch in your eyebrows.
“W-What do you mean?” you swallow.
“You look nervous.” murmurs Taehyung. It’s surprising you could hear him at all in here, but you blocked out the surrounding people like background noise. “Like you’ve never been this close to a man.”
“I have!” you exclaim quickly and in defense.
Taehyung snickers. He notices the way your eyes flash with slight annoyance. “Oh, really?” he responds. “Like Kook?”
“Wh…what?” you blink a few times and shake your head softly. “What are…why would you say that?”
Taehyung finds you cute. The way you stutter as if what you and Jungkook do behind closed doors isn’t obvious. Maybe it was because he knew his friends - and the way he was glaring daggers at him. He didn’t have to look his way to know.
“Why not? Is it a,” Taehyung leans even closer to you. His breath tickles your skin. You smell the alcohol and in a way, it has your stomach churning (in a good way). “secret?” he whispers the last part.
Your heart jolts at the split second that Taehyung’s eyes flicker from your eyes to your lips. His hand lets go of your chin, but it slides down your neck. His thumb rubs along your throat that has a shiver running up your spine.
“There’s nothing going on between us.” you manage to say boldly just as Taehyung’s dark eyes meet yours.
You contemplate if this was wrong - at least the less tipsy part of your mind. You couldn’t admit to Taehyung that you and your cousin’s boyfriend had something going on. If you weren’t so naive, you wouldn't believe that he didn’t already know.
Yet, whatever you and Jungkook did have wasn’t anything you could further pursue. He wasn’t a single man and what you and he already did had since gone too far.
“Prove it, then.” Taehyung’s nose glides against yours. His lips are slightly parted when he speaks. “I forgot that you’re young…you probably shouldn’t be here now.”
“I’m not that young.” you protest, swallowing. “I know what I’m doing.”
“Yeah?” Taehyung hums.
“Yeah.” you respond, and without thinking you limit the distance between you and Taehyung.
Your glossy lips press against his own and immediately, Taehyung groans into it as if he’s been waiting for this moment. In a way, he has. He himself was quite interested upon knowing about the younger cousin; someone he always saw with her head in a book. To the untrained eye, Jungkook looked like the caring older student who took you under his wing because of your relationship with his girlfriend. To any man watching, Jungkook was just like the rest of them; a predator watching their prey right before they pounced.
Jungkook, unlike most predators, just had more patience.
Your hand reaches out for Taehyung’s shirt. Your fingers dig into the fabric and bring him closer to you. He doesn’t hesitate. His hand cups your neck fully to keep you right in place as his tongue greedily forces its way into your mouth.
The kiss is hot and messy, full of drunken need that Taehyung isn’t aware was there until now. He presses himself against you, your breast against his own chest, your ass now fully on the pool table but it’d be a lie to say if either of you cared right now.
There’s a throbbing that shoots right between your legs and your mind ignores the faint screaming of your sober mind to stop this. People were looking - not in disgust or scandal. This was normal to them.
You feel Taehyung shove himself away from you before you could react. Your eyes flutter open, your cheeks warming up when you realize Jungkook is now in front of you. His eyes are hard and piercing down right at you.
“I’m taking you home.” Jungkook grumbles. His tattooed hand snatches you harshly by your bicep and he yanks you off of the pool table.
Taehyung licks his lips of your flavored gloss. He doesn’t fight Jungkook. ‘If you don’t, I will.’ Is what Taehyung’s eyes had told his younger friend, and Jungkook heeded the warning.
“What are you doing?!” you hiss, attempting to pull yourself away from Jungkook’s grasp.
“Are you suddenly hard of hearing?” Jungkook hisses back. “I’m taking you home.”
“I don’t want to go.”
This time you do manage to get lost from Jungkook, but it results in you nearly falling right into Taehyung. There’s more eyes on you, the music changing to something more upbeat.
“You’ve had too much to drink.” Jungkook’s eyes glare at you then flicker to his friend. “Find your own way home.”
“Already planned on it.” Taehyung flashes Jungkook a knowing grin.
“What? No!” you shake your head. You manage to balance yourself. “I want to stay-”
“And do what?” Jungkook spats. He wasn’t going to do this with you here. “Get fucked in front of everyone like some type of whore?”
Jungkook didn’t mean that.
The sight of you kissing Taehyung so freely had Jungkook’s blood running cold. He could’ve stopped it sooner, but he hadn’t. Instead, he remained in the corner and stood witness to how far you’d take it. He hadn’t expected you to be the one to initiate the kiss, and the sight of his friend's possessive hand upon you had sent him in a rage.
“Fuck. You.” you push past Jungkook and people that were now surrounding you two. Your throat aches, and that only meant one thing.
Jungkook takes a deep breath. He follows after you, not bothering to say any forms of “excuse me’s” to the people he pushed past. You were fast, but not fast enough. Just as you reach the opened front door, Jungkook has a grip on your bicep once more.
“Let me-”
“I didn’t mean that.” Jungkook says quickly. “I’m sorry.”
“Yeah sure you didn’t.” you spat, yanking your arm, but Jungkook’s grip is tight. “Let go.”
“Not until you agree to talking to me.” Jungkook shakes his head. “Away from here.”
A few people shove past you, but Jungkook’s hold on you assures you don’t stumble. You were growing irritated the longer you remained at this party. Your eyes glare up at Jungkook, but he isn’t phased.
“I don’t want to go home.” your teeth grit. “I haven’t even been here for a couple hours. I thought you said you wanted me to be here.”
Only softly does Jungkook push you out from the doorway and down the pathway from the estate. It’s quieter outside and there isn’t even a breeze out. When you and he are further away from the chaos of the party, he finally lets your bicep go. “I’m sorry for what I said in there.”
“You’re sorry for embarrassing me? Thanks.” you spat sarcastically.
“Everyone is drunk, high or both.” Jungkook rolls his eyes. “They won’t remember a thing.”
“That isn’t the point and you know it.”
Jungkook does know. Only a small part of him feels bad. It was him that encouraged you to come to this party and be a normal college student. You were doing just that and ruined it for you.
Only, you weren’t supposed to be doing any of that with Taehyung. It was Jungkook who wanted to dance with you. It was him who wanted you to be consumed with. Even if people had known he wasn’t a single man, those wouldn’t remember (or truly care) what they saw.
“You were all over him right in my face.” Jungkook’s tone lowers. “You just met him.”
“You told me to have fun!” you spat, your hands crashing against his chest harshly. You weren’t like this, you note, but the alcohol mixed with pure anger (and slight humiliation) was consuming you. “You told me to come,” you continue, shoving him again. “and be a normal college student and-”
“With me!” Jungkook spats right back at you. “You weren’t supposed to go off with my friend. I invited you here, not him!” Jungkook waves a dismissed hand back to the estate - the party. All of it. He wasn’t in the mood to go back in and do anything he planned tonight.
“Last time I checked, you had a girlfriend.”
Jungkook tilts his head. “I had a girlfriend when you came around my fingers earlier.”
Your shoulders falter.
“I had a girlfriend when you called yourself my dirty girl.” Jungkook takes a step closer to you. “I had a girlfriend when you said you weren’t going to tell her, right?”
You gasp when Jungkook snatches your shirt and pulls you towards him. Your eyes immediately roam around, but he doesn’t give a damn who’s watching or not.
“I had a girlfriend when I told you it’d be a secret you and I share, huh?” Jungkook murmurs. “So don’t act like you care about her now.
Jungkook’s words crash upon you. You don’t like how they make you feel. You don’t like when he’s right.
“You don’t want to go home? Fine. But we aren’t staying here.” Jungkook lets go of your shirt. “Come on.”
You follow Jungkook to the side of the estate, you quiet as you contemplate his words. You never felt shittier, you think, than having Jungkook out of all people throw your actions in your face.
You don’t realize Jungkook has stopped walking until you feel something hard being shoved at you.
“Huh?”
Your hands hold onto something heavy. It takes you a few seconds to realize it’s a helmet. Its shell is black with a sleek purple visor that shows your reflection. Your eyes glance up to see Jungkook swing his leg around a motorcycle.
“Y-You didn’t drive today?” you try not to sound too nervous, but it’s hard.
Jungkook starts the motorcycle. There’s a high pitched click, followed by rapid roar as the engine cuts on. The lights flash brightly against the estate walls.
“My car? Nope.” Jungkook shakes his head. “Put on the helmet and get on.”
Your eyes widen. “I’ve never been on one before.” you shake your own head. “You only have one helmet?!”
Jungkook snickers. “Well I can’t let a pretty thing like you go without.” he says. “I’ll drive slow, I promise.”
At your hesitation, Jungkook furrows his brows at you. “This is a tame motorcycle. It's mainly used for cruising.” he winks at you. “In style.”
You look down at the helmet in your hands. The purple visor stares right back up at you. “How do you even see out of this?” you murmur, mainly to yourself. It was evident that if you wanted to get home, you'd have to get on this very motorcycle.
Jungkook smiles when you put the helmet over your head. You look cute, he thinks. Completely out of your element entirely, but cute nonetheless.
You felt like an idiot wearing this helmet, but you hop on the motorcycle right behind Jungkook.
You push the visor up. “This doesn’t feel safe!” you exclaim.
“Hold onto me and shut up.” Jungkook says back, no annoyance in his voice at all.
Hesitantly, you place your hands onto Jungkook’s shoulders.
Jungkook snorts. “No,” he shakes his head. He reaches his hands to tap your hand that's on his shoulder before he gently tugs at it. He places it around his waist. “hold onto me securely, baby. We wouldn’t want you to fall off.”
A part of you is still upset at Jungkook for insisting you come to this party just to drag you out before you could fully experience it. However, you listen - as nervous as you were. You push the visor back down before leaning closer to the man. You wrap your arms around him.
Without allowing you time to adjust, Jungkook twists the throttle and the bike begins to move - only gently - but it was enough for you to slam your entire body against his, your arms tightening around him. You’d be damned if you fell off after you survived this world this long.
Jungkook likes the way your body feels against his, his chest rumbling when he feels your arms sink into him nervously.
Jungkook twists the throttle again, adding more acceleration and drives down the long drive way and further away from the estate. The wind flows through his dark hair just as he whips down the street. This is his first time riding with anyone as his own girlfriend was just as skeptical. He finds it exciting - especially because it was you.
Riding for Jungkook meant he could clear his mind. He enjoyed riding around dusk as there wasn’t much traffic and the scenery surrounding him was beautiful. Even now, the wind through him, the vibrations. It’s a thrill that pumps through his veins, along with dopamine and adrenaline. The rumble of the engine only adds on to the excitement.
You could practically mold into Jungkook’s skin with how tight you were holding onto him. The street lights, in your own humble opinion, race past you and you’re glad you had on the helmet.
“The first time was rough for me, too.” Jungkook hollers back to you. “You okay?”
“Y-yeah!” you manage to call back, your hands grabbing a fistfull of his shirt. “Where are we going?!”
“Just enjoy the ride!”
So you do - the best way you could. As Jungkook accelerates, it doesn’t feel like you’re simply going faster, but instead of being pulled forward by rushing wind, sending a surge through your body.
The streets are empty as Jungkook tears through them, a heightened sense of being alive at this very moment. Your arms around it makes it even better to him, the closeness of it. The way he can even feel your beating heart right against his back.
It felt like forever until Jungkook finally began to slow down. You hadn’t paid much attention to your surroundings and instead, actually calmed down into the ride. You could understand why the older man was content with riding, even if it wasn’t something you’d do on your own.
When Jungkook comes to a stop is when you release his waist, the warmth he had going with him. You lift the helmet from your head, blinking your eyes just a bit to adjust to the warm lighting coming from the tall building he’s parked in front of.
“You…live here?” you ask him, eyes widening a bit.
The high-rise building is modern, surrounded by tall, black gates. The outside lights offer a warm, illuminating glow as Jungkook enters the code on the keypad. Slowly, the dark gates open.
You don’t bother putting the helmet back on as the motorcycle begins to move once more. Your eyes scan the high, floor to ceiling windows, all dark tinted glass for privacy.
Jungkook drives through an open entrance that leads the two of you through a garage where several expensive cars - and other motorcycles - are parked.
“I’m sorry again,” Jungkook begins as he parks his bike by a set of elevators. He turns off the motorcycle. “for dragging you out of there. I didn’t want you to do anything you’d regret when you were sober.”
He didn’t want you to do anything with someone that wasn’t him is what he kept to himself.
Jungkook gets off of the bike and turns towards you. He offers his hand for you to take. Hesitantly, you do.
“We can continue to party here.” Jungkook states as you get off of the bike yourself. He laces his fingers through yours. “If that’s fine with you.”
You swallow. Was there truly any going back? “Yeah.” you murmur. “It’s fine.”
Jungkook grins. He tugs you gently towards the elevator. It opens within seconds of Jungkook pressing the button. As you enter, the back of said elevator showcases a large floor length mirror that covers it entirely. You scan your appearance for a moment, your gloss a bit smudged and your eyes were only a bit red.
The elevator goes higher and higher while all you could do was watch the red numbers grow.
“You look nervous.” Jungkook grabs your attention. He lifts your intertwined hands up to his lips. He presses a kiss against your hand.
Your eyes meet.
“I think you brought me here to get me all alone.”
Your brows furrow for a moment at your own words. You hadn’t thought about what you were going to say before speaking it.
“And if I did?” Jungkook retorts. “Is that bad?”
The elevator continues to go higher and higher as Jungkook and you continue to peer at one another.
“N…” you shake your head gently. “...No.”
The elevator dings.
“And it’ll be our little secret?” Jungkook tilts his head a bit just as the elevator doors begin. The hallway is dimly lit in a cozy way. There’s only 2 doors on this floor and on opposite sides of one another.
“Our little secret…” you murmur.
You ponder how far things were going to go with Jungkook. Would you be the one to put an end to it, or would he? You weren’t sure how long you and he had until this would have to eventually end. If you’re lucky, mutually and without your cousin finding out about the betrayal.
The penthouse is modern and sleek - and entirely dark. The walls are a cream color while the overall decor is mostly black with charcoal tones. Instantly, you notice how high you were as your eyes peer out the floor to ceiling windows, the city lights outside appear so far below.
“It’s very clean here.” you think aloud, eyes scanning the tidy area. There’s a large, black leather sectional that has a glossy finish. The coffee table matches the couch, black but glass and it’s already holding alcohol, half full.
“You take me for a slop?” Jungkook questions. He’s watching you peer around the penthouse. He wonders what you’re thinking. The first time he brought your cousin here, she hadn’t wanted to stay for long, stating that the penthouse - that she assured to mention was bought by his father - was too much space for one person. It’s why he often spent so much time at your apartment.
“Of course not.” you turn to face him. You inhale through your nose deeply before speaking again. “It’s nice. High…” you trail off.
Jungkook’s lip twitches upwards. “It is.” he murmurs. “Sometimes I like to sit on the balcony railing.”
Your brows knit together and your eyes widen. “That’s dangerous!” you exclaim. “You can’t be that bored.”
Jungkook snickers. “I like the adrenaline that comes with it.” he states. “Want a drink?”
Jungkook has a variety of alcohol, you note. On the right wall, just underneath the mounted television, is a cooler. It’s tinted and at first glance, you thought it was one of those expensive electric fire places you saw.
“That’s a lot of alcohol for one person.” you note from behind him.
“Luckily you’re here to help me, huh?” Jungkook takes out a variety. He isn’t expecting you to drink much, but he’s sure you’re still fairly new to it. He places them onto his coffee table besides the other bottles. “Sit down. You don’t have to be so awkward.”
You do as you’re told as Jungkook makes his way down the hall. He returns in under a minute with two shot glasses. You aren’t surprised that they’re tinted dark, as well.
“So what? We’re just drinking?” you ponder. “For that, we could’ve gone back to the party.”
“So you can continue sucking my friends face off?” Jungkook questions. “Do or drink.”
“What?”
“Do,” Jungkook places the two glasses onto his coffee table. He grabs the closest bottle he could - tequila - and pops it open. “or drink. Or both, I’m down for whatever.”
“Like truth or dare?” you question as Jungkook pours two shots.
“Yea. But this is just the dare option.” Jungkook’s eyes flicker to you, sparkling with mischief. “Let’s take a shot just to get it started.”
Jungkook holds out the shot glass for you. It’s filled to the brim and even away from your face you can smell how strong the tequila is.
“You chickening out?”
You glance up from the shot to Jungkook, unamused. “No.” you respond. “We didn’t come all this way for nothing.”
Jungkook presses the shot to his lips. “Do what you want,” he murmurs before he downs the shot. His throat bobs as he swallows. “because you want to.”
Jungkook goes to pour another shot, but this time he holds it in his hands. You contemplate Jungkook’s words for a moment. You’re sure you understood it - do what you want, not what you think he wants you to do.
Jungkook chuckles a bit when you take the shot, the harsh liquid burning your throat in just the right way. On the ride here, you felt yourself sobering up just a bit that you can now taste the alcohol that once went down like water at the party.
“So, are you going first?” you ask Jungkook, holding out your shot glass for him to fill.
“I can.” Jungkook offers you his own shot glass and takes yours to re-pour the alcohol. “Mild? Medium?”
“What?”
Jungkook leans against the couch to get comfortable.
“How tame is this game going to be?” Jungkook questions. “Since it’s your first time, we can play mildly-”
“Hot.” you deadpan.
Jungkook goes silent and in an instant, you contemplate maybe you were trying too hard.
“Or-”
“Hot it is. There’s no holding back.” Jungkook nods. “I dare you to strip.” Jungkook states. “Not nude.” Not yet, he thinks.
It isn’t anything new, you think, and yet you’re nervous. Jungkook’s eyes are peering at you, unblinking. Unmoving. You place the shot onto the coffee table and do as you’re dared to do. You start with your shirt, removing the fabric so slowly that Jungkook believes you’re intentionally teasing him. Your bra clings onto your chest and bounces ever so lightly when you finally get the shirt over your head.
The jean skirt is next and you get up for this. Jungkook feels his heart race at the sign of your panties. They’re simple cotton, he notes, but the simplicity adds on to his attraction towards you. You didn’t need to wear anything overly sexual for him to be aroused by you. He swallows just as you sit down and face him.
“Your turn.” Jungkook murmurs, his eyes slowly trailing back to your face.
“I dare you to do the same.”
When you watch Jungkook take the shot, your shoulders falter a bit. You weren’t expecting him to do that.
However, Jungkook then unbuckles his belt as he stands. He removes his pants and discards them carelessly. He goes for his shirt next, your eyes fixed on his now exposed chest. The tattoos that connect from said chest, to his shoulder, all the way from his biceps to his hands. You find yourself swallowing as Jungkook sits down, this time closer to you.
“I guess it’s my turn again.” Jungkook hums. “Ya’ sure you’re not nervous?”
You swallow the lump in your throat. Jungkook’s closeness is evident by how his body heat radiates towards you. Your heart is beating in your chest rapidly that your tipsy mind swears it’ll explode right now.
“Why do you ask?” you respond, deflecting the question as the answer is obvious. Your palms were seconds from sweating. “Do I look nervous?”
Yes, Jungkook thinks, but he knows you by now. You wouldn’t be you if you weren’t a bundle of nerves and sexual tension.
Instead, Jungkook snickers. “Come here,” he says. He grasps the bottle from the coffee table and opens the bottle. The top flies off and Jungkook makes no move to capture it from wherever it’s fallen. You watch Jungkook take a swig from the bottle, a bit of the alcohol trailing down the corner of his lips and it hits his chest.
You scooted closer to Jungkook, your eyes glancing from his chest to the dark look in his eyes.
“I’m not going to bite you, baby.” Jungkook thinks how he wishes he could just sink his teeth into you and trail his tongue along your skin right about now. But he’ll take it slow. “It’s just me. It’s not like we haven’t done this before.”
You hate to be reminded.
Was there any going back now? You and he both are half naked in his high rise apartment. It’s evident that something is going to happen.
No, you think, there wasn’t any going back. Jungkook spreads his legs just as you climb into his lip, his free hand settling onto your waist.
“I dare you-”
“It’s my turn!” you exclaim.
Smirking, Jungkook shakes his head. “I never dared you to come to me, baby.” he says teasingly. He was right, you think, and your cheeks warm at the thought. “I dare you to kiss me.”
You don’t hesitate. Your hands place them on both sides of Jungkook’s cheeks and you press your lips onto his. Instantly, you can taste the tequila, but somehow he makes that bitter taste seem sweet.
Jungkook groans into your lips. It doesn’t take much for a dent to grow in his underwear and you feel it right at your core.
“I dare you…” your nose nestles against Jungkook’s, your lips pressing into his again - and again. His hold onto your waist tightens, keeping you right in the spot he wants you. “...to tell me how you felt.”
Jungkook’s tongue trails along your bottom lip. “How I felt about what?” he breathes.
“When you watched me make out with your friend.” you say against his lips. “How did it make you feel?”
You lean away from him just enough for your eyes to meet.
Jungkook tilts his head, dark eyes scanning your face. “Why?” he questions. “Did you do it to get a rise out of me?”
Without notice, your thighs tighten against his, your knees at his waist.
“I think you did.” Jungkook murmurs. He’s still holding the bottom of tequila and he takes another swig. “You knew I was watching you the entire time, huh? You gave Taehyung something that took me months to get.”
“As far as I know, Taehyung is single.” you retort.
“Oh?” Jungkook snickers. “We know that doesn’t make a difference, baby, because if it did…” Jungkook’s free hand glides from your waist, to your ass. He knows he isn’t too intoxicated to imagine the throbbing right between your legs. “...you wouldn’t be with me right now.”
You gasp when Jungkook’s hand squeezes your ass, unblinking eyes watching you closely.
“Taehyung is one of my best friends,” Jungkook says. “but watching the way he got to touch you so easily made me want to kill him. He doesn’t deserve it.”
“And you do?”
“I do.” Jungkook presses his lips to yours again. He forces his tongue into your mouth and suckles onto yours.
The kiss is needy, wet and entirely lewd and the both of you melt into it. It turns into something hotter; passionate. Your hips grinds automatically, your clit needily humping against Jungkook’s clothed bulge and Jungkook wishes he’d dared you to get completely naked instead. But he has to remind himself that you and he have more than enough time. The entire night, he thinks, and if he was lucky, the weekend entirely. Your cousin would be busy and wouldn’t notice her boyfriend and cousin away.
“Do you wanna stop?” Jungkook breaks the kiss first, much to his own dismay, but his mind is racing with different ways he wants to have you. He isn’t sure he’d be able to contain himself if things got any further.
“D-Do you?”
“Fuck, no.” Jungkook groans. “There’s so much I want to do to you, baby.”
Your thighs squeeze, ever so gently, Jungkook in. Your breathing increases and the older man knows that you're curious - as is the increasing heartbeat between your legs.
“Like what?” you dare ask, Your mind flashes with that forbidden moment you and he shared in his car, his fingers plunging so deep inside of you that your thighs clench even tighter.
“Excited?”
There’s a squeeze on your ass that has your body jolting.
“Have you ever given anyone a body shot?” asks Jungkook, though he’s sure of the answer.
You shake your head.
“I dare you to let me.” Jungkook’s eyes does that twinkle again. “My own way, at least.” he murmurs.
Slowly, you nod your head. You’re unsure what to expect so all you do is wait. Jungkook raises the bottle and just when you’re sure he’s about to take a sip from it, he doesn’t. Instead, he pours the liquid onto you. It falls down your neck, the cool liquid having you gasping.
Jungkook presses himself closer to you, his tongue - warm in contrast to the alcohol - swirls against the soft skin of your breast as he licks up the trail of tequila he’s poured onto you.
Your body shudders as Jungkook’s warm tongue licks from your breast, to your collarbone and finally your neck. “You okay?” he questions from your neck. There's a twitch that you feel from where you’re sitting.
“Y-Yeah,” you say. “feels good.” you whisper, your tone so low and only a part of you wishing he hadn’t heard it.
Jungkook does hear it, because of course he does. It fuels him to continue, this time pouring the alcohol against your breast entirely and diving in. This time, his eyes flicker up at you as his tongue laps up the falling droplets. He studies your expression - parted lips, clouded eyes and arching back.
“You’re a lot dirtier than I thought.” Jungkook hums. His free hand releases your ass to replace it with your covered breast. Your bra is soaked, covered in tequila. Jungkook forces his finger through the bra, slowly sliding it so your breast could be fully free. “Was there a scene like this in those dirty books you read?”
You’re caught off guard by the question, but more off guard by the way Jungkook flicks your nipple with a greedy tongue. It’s all he needs until he’s snatching the bra off of you entirely and diving into your chest.
Your shock could only last so long. His hands engulf your breast entirely, kneading them in his palms as his tongue trails along your skin. He plops a nipple into his mouth, his tongue circling the excited bud in his mouth. He isn’t being calm about it. There wasn’t a need to be silent when you and he were here alone. He didn’t have to look over his shoulder to assure you and he were alone - he knew the two of you were.
“Hah~ Kook!” you gasp. His teeth, only gently, nipples at your nipple before he plops it from his lips. He stares hungrily at it before averting his eyes up to look at you.
“You like it.” Jungkook dismisses. “I can feel your pussy, baby.”
You groan.
“It’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” Jungkook assures. “It’s your turn, baby.”
You nearly forgot about the game.
“Oh…okay.” you nod.
Jungkook has a low grin on his lips. It’s teasing and not at all taunting, but your heart is racing and your body is burning. You can feel the throbbing between your legs heavier and it’s even more evident now that so can he.
Jungkook knows of your inexperience with it all, even claiming the “boys” you’ve been with weren’t anything compared to him. He isn’t wrong in the slightest, but you’re still embarrassed to sit here and know little of what you’re doing.
“I dare you to let me do a body shot off of you!” you exclaim. “In my own way.”
“Oh? Feeling bold?” Jungkook is intrigued. He lifts the tequila bottle for you to take.
With shaking hands, you do. You glance at him, his eyes watching your every move that there isn’t any way you could fuck this up and embarrass yourself further.
Liquid courage, you think to yourself, and lift the bottle to your lips and take a swig. It doesn't burn when it goes down.
Then, your eyes trail to Jungkook’s shoulders, his tattoos on his chest that connect to the sleeve that makes him even more of an attractive man.
“Nervous?”
Jungkook’s voice gets you out of your thoughts again.
“You’re so cute, you know?”
You squeeze the bottle.
“I’m not nervous.” you mumble the lie, even if there wasn’t a need to do so. Jungkook knows you by now. “It’s just you.”
You get off of Jungkook’s lap - much to his dismay - and hover above him long enough to splash his chest with the alcohol. He flinches a bit, but doesn’t speak. You pour more than you intended to, the alcohol trailing from his chest, down his abs and unintentionally to his bulge.
Jungkook doesn’t say anything. Instead, his lips twitched upwards. He truly does think you’re cute, his cock twitching at the soft look in your eyes - the naivety and innocence he adores.
You swallow, dropping to your knees in front of him. You place the nearly empty bottle down beside you with nervous hands. Your eyes, those same eyes he adores, look up at him as your tongue places itself onto his clothed bulge.
Instantly, Jungkook’s breath hitches. Both of your hands glide upwards onto his thighs as your tongue trails upwards from his twitching bulge, to his abdomen. Your eyes remain on his, licking up the tequila from his abs, to his tattooed chest. Your tongue doesn’t stop until you’re at his neck, and even then you replace your tongue with your lips, pressing a kiss to the nape of it.
“You look nervous.” you tease.
You remove yourself from his neck to catch Jungkook’s expression.
“It’s always the shy girls, isn’t it?” Jungkook pecks your lips before you could get too far away from him.
“Your turn.”
Jungkook takes a deep breath. “I dare you to tell me a fantasy of yours.”
Your brows knit together.
“Don’t look like that.” Jungkook snickers. “All those dirty books you read, there has to be something in there you fantasize about. You told me you touch yourself,” a tattooed hand places itself in your inner thigh and squeezes it. “and I felt how wet that pussy could get. So tell me.”
And like before, Jungkook takes back control. You wouldn't know what to do with it, anyways.
“I always fantasized about being fucked hard.”
Jungkook’s ears perk as you speak.
“When I read, I imagine it’s me being fucked like how they are.” you continue. You’ve never told anyone about the books you read, or about anything about your own fantasies.
“And how are they fucked?”
There’s another squeeze to your thigh.
“Hard.” you whisper. “Disrespectfully. Like they’re…claimed.”
For a few moments, you and Jungkook are silently staring at one another. The tension is high, heat radiating off of the both of you. He’s just as sticky as you are, his hold on you never untightening.
“I guess it’s my turn.” you break the silence. “I dare you…”
Jungkook’s unblinking.
“...fulfill my fantasy.”
A tighter squeeze to your thigh.
“Claim me as yours. It’ll be our little secret.”
Jungkook doesn’t need to be told twice. You’re pushed onto the leather couch rapidly and within seconds, your panties are pulled off of you. He’s on top of you, forcing your thighs apart so he can see your pussy in all its glory.
“I knew you were a slut.” Jungkook leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. “My slut to claim as my own, is that right?”
“Yea~” you gasp out as Jungkook’s lips kiss your chin, to your chest. “Your slut.”
Jungkook likes the sound of it. He continues to kiss down your body until he’s right between your legs. You’re so wet, your clit puffy and begging for any attention, and he’s fully prepared to give it just that. His tongue is flat and drags between your folds slowly to savor that sweet taste of you - a taste his mind suddenly tells him that Taehyung could’ve had.
Taehyung.
Kim Taehyung, his friend and a man you just met could’ve had this sweet pussy on his tongue right now.
Now, Jungkook is entirely pissed at just the possibility - even if the chances were low - of him being in this position. His hands slam down on your inner thighs that are threatening to close around him, and he dives directly into your clit. His tongue circles harshly around it, relentless and utterly obsessed.
“K-Kook, wait-”
The words leave you. Regardless, they fall on deaf ears. His tongue laps from below, all the way to the top, his head bobbing from side to side.
Your lower back arches a bit as Jungkook claims you as you tell him to, your cunt fully exposed to his mouth. Your hands clench together and your nails dig into your palm.
“Now that I’ve claimed this pussy as my own, it’s only right that only I get to have it.”
It’s a ludicrous request coming from a man in a relationship, but he wouldn’t be a man if he didn’t have audacity. Your mind is far too consumed with pleasure to care about how insane it sounds, but you’re agreeing without any thoughts, nodding your head dumbly.
Jungkook solidifies it by popping two fingers inside of you, your wet pussy squelching obscenely. He pushes them in deeper and deeper, your gummy walls clasping around them as he goes knuckles deep.
“My pretty pussy,”
Jungkook pumps, his tongue circling your clit to add onto your madness. He keeps his fingers deep, stretching you out just the way he knows you like and in return, you continue to press your sweet cunt against his greedy tongue.
Jungkook laps your juices up, relentlessly even when you’re squirming and squealing above him. Your thighs shake and your eyes are rolling, overstimulation flowing through your entire body. You haven’t felt this before, you think, being fully doted on has your body spasming, but wanting more.
You break into a high-pitched whimper as Jungkook’s warm tongue remains on your clit, suckling and twirling, as his fingers pump brutally inside you. He was milking you for all you had to give him, his fingers fully coated in milky arousal.
“Fuck - I-I feel…cu-umming~”
Your body is trembling entirely, back continuing to arch right into him. Your eyes squeeze shut, your moans growing louder and drawn out.
Jungkook feels it, the way your pussy spasms around his pumping fingers, clenching and unclenching as if begging to be mercied, but he doesn’t allow you any. No, he continues on lapping onto your clit that your toes curl, the overstimulation now turning into pain - not an uncomfortable one, but the pleasurable kind.
Your body gives out, arousal pooling out of you just as his fingers do. They splash onto his couch, but he couldn’t find it in him to care; not when you looked this delectable.
You’re gasping, but Jungkook isn’t one to waste time. No, you told him to claim you as his and he has every plan to do just that.
Your eyes snap open when you feel something slide past your lips.
“Suck them,” Jungkook demands, his fingers deep in your mouth. “Taste how good you are.”
You groan, your eyes fluttering with just how obscene this all is - and how much you loved it.
You do as you’re told, like the good slut you told Jungkook you were, your fingers suckling on the two digits in your mouth, fluttering eyes looking up at Jungkook innocently.
Jungkook shakes his head, licking his lips of the same taste. “My good little slut.” he murmurs. “You act so shy and reserved, but we know what you really are.”
Jungkook removes his fingers from your lips, your saliva coating them.
With a hitched breath, you say, “Y-Your….slut?”
“Exactly.”
Jungkook pushes his underwear down and kicks them off. His cock springs out, tip flushed and oozing with sticky cum. It’s pretty, you think, veins drawn down them.
“Tell me what you want.”
You swallow. “I want you to fuck me.”
Jungkook groans as he wraps a hand around his cock. “You have a dirty mouth, baby.”
You watch Jungkook, eyes fixed on how hot he looks. Watching a man touch himself has never intrigued you, but you understood why not. They weren’t Jeon Jungkook.
“I thought about fucking you for so long, you know?” Jungkook admits. “Filling you full of my cum.”
Your cheeks grow hot. “I…” you blink a few times. “I’m not…on anything.”
Jungkook tilts his head. “That’s okay.” he murmurs. “I’ll buy you something tomorrow.”
You aren’t in the right mind to deny him, so you nod and say, “Okay.”
You’re so submissive that Jungkook pumps his cock harder. “You’d let me?” he asks, almost in disbelief. “Of course you’d let me…” he breaks out in a grin.
You nod your head. “I’d let you.” you assure, eyes flickering between his cock to his eyes. “Please fuck me, Kook.”
Grunting, Jungkook finds himself between your legs faster than either of you could fathom. He hikes a leg upward, the tip of his cock at your entrance. He cannot believe how wet you are, your warmth oozing onto his tip. He rubs it against your clit and between your folds, marveling at how perfect it all looked from up above.
“I’ll fuck you real good, baby.” Jungkook groans.
Your back arches yet again as Jungkook begins to enter you. He feels the hair on his arms lift as a shudder runs up his spine. A moan slips past parted lips, his mind pondering how anyone could be this tight, but then he has to remember that you don’t do this often. Your body was trying to get comfortable with having something inside of you.
“I knew you’d feel good,” Jungkook whispers, voice hoarse. He’s speaking mainly to himself, but you hear him just the same.
Jungkook ruts his hips and watches your expression. Your eyes roll while your thighs widen just a bit, a silent plea for more, and it’s exactly what he gives you. He goes deeper, tip reaching places you’ve never felt it before that has your toes curling. Your walls cage him in, practically begging him to never leave.
The couch creaks beneath the force of his thrusts, the rubbery leather molding into your skin. Your breasts pounce with each impact, followed by the satisfied squelching of your pussy.
“-harder,” you breathe, your hands reaching for nothing in particular while your eyes don’t focus on anything. “Please.”
Grunting, Jungkook shakes his head. His hold on your tightens as he presses your knees to your chest. “Greedy girl,” he hisses, but who was he to not give you what you want? He slams into you this, his cock drilling harder and harder like you’ve asked him too. "Look at you, squirming under me."
Your pussy continues to squelch loudly, offering its own contribution to the lewd sounds. Creaking couch, high-pitched moans, followed by the occasional grunts and skin slapping.
You were seeing stars now, slipping in and out of your high as your pussy flutters around Jungkook’s ramming cock.
“Fuck, baby, you feel so good.” Jungkook whimpers, lowering himself. His hair tickles your forehead. “I waited so long to feel this pussy around me.”
This is bad, but the rational part of you is hidden deep behind lust and intoxication. You couldn’t bring yourself to care about what you and Jungkook were doing now while your cousins were none the wiser. Maybe it’s that fact that has you tightening around her boyfriend, begging him for more and more until you’re cumming.
Jungkook isn’t done with you yet. After all, you and he had the entire night. He takes a quick break to pop a nipple back into his mouth, his tongue lavishing against the bud possessively. Then, he turns your body around easily and enters you once more. Your ass from this position looks amazing and with each punishing thrusts, his eyes are fixated on it.
“F-Fuuuck, Kook. Slow-”
“You can take it!” Jungkook hisses.
Your face is buried into the couch, your back arched allowing the man to do as he pleases to you. Your thighs are coated with sticky arousal that pools out of you with each pump.
“I’m just giving you what you wanted, right?”
He was, you think, and damn did it feel too good. Each thrust was completely animalistic and focused, claiming you entirely. Jungkook isn’t sure why his mind drifts back to the way you kiss Taehyung so freely, but he does know that the way his hands grip onto your hips possessively and hold you in place that it’s an act that would never happen again.
“Don’t stop, Kook, pl-lease!” you hiccup those encouraging words that have Jungkook going over the edge. “So close~”
“Gonna cum already, baby? That’s not fair, I haven’t came yet.” Jungkook teases. “Pretty pussy dripping all over me.”
“Cum in me then.” you exclaim, your eyes growing glossy with how good it all felt. You can feel the pressure building up in the pits of your stomach again.
“Shit!” Jungkook rasps. One hand lets go of your hips to slam them on the couch right beside your head. He leans down, the other hand having a good grip on your waist as he continues to drill into you. “Pretty girl, are you crying?”
Jungkook is so smug. His lips press against your shoulders, eyes focused on the way the overstimulated tears slide down your cheeks.
“-cumming,” you whisper, eyes squeezing shut and letting out the remainder of the tears. Jungkook groans when your pussy clenches around him as you cum, your body shuddering beneath him. “I’m cumming, too.” he hisses, grinding thrusts pumping in and out rapidly until the final one shoots cum right inside of you. It’s so hot and seemingly endless, his cock pulsing in a way it hasn’t in so long.
after the sudden revelation of his 13 year old son, jungkook refuses to let you leave without giving him any answers, no matter how reluctant you are.
word count: 15.004
warning: dirty talking, grinding, smut, cowgirl position, unprotected sex, more yearning jk, finger sucking, edging/orgasm denial, kissing, grinding, nipple sucking, a peak at jimin #1 mc hater, mc is kinda unreasonable but, unprotected sex, creampie,
part one / two
“I don’t think I want to do gymnastics anymore."
The car comes to a stop right in front of your apartment. You slam on the brake so hard that Ji-tae nearly jolts from his seat.
“This again?” you murmur quietly, aggressively putting the car in park. “I’ve already paid for the next few months.”
“Lisa would give you the money back.” your son retorts.
“What’s going on?” you ask. You take your seatbelt off. “You’ve been quiet the entire ride home and now all of a sudden you want to quit?”
You don’t mean to raise your voice at Ji-tae. It wasn’t him who had you at edge, it was Jungkook. The entire ride home, you had clenched the steering wheel so tightly that you were sure your palms would bleed. Your heart hadn’t stopped beating, either, and all you could think about was the look on Jungkook’s face as the elevator doors closed.
“I could ask you the same thing.”
“Excuse me?” you snicker. You knew sooner or later, Ji-tae would be a teenager. Having a teenager meant dealing with the smart remarks that came with it.
“Nothing.”
When Ji-tae lifts his hand to open his door, you stop him. “We aren’t done talking.” you tell him. “Tell me what’s going on. Do you not enjoy it anymore?”
Ji-tae lowers his hand to his side. He looks at you fully now. “I do.” he says.
“Then why do you keep insisting on quitting?” you question. “I told you I can afford it now.”
Ji-tae swallows. His mind flashes with the older man - obviously your boss - sitting behind the desk. His eyes watching you, and then him.
“Tae…” you trail off. You knew your son enough to know that something was troubling him.
“Are you sleeping with him?”
The car grows quiet. You’re left stunned - far too stunned to form a sentence right now.
You hadn’t expected that to be your son's question. As your mind races, the pieces slowly begin to work. It explained the look on your son's face when he stared at you, and then to Jungkook. The glare in his eyes…
No parent wants to be in your shoes right now. You feel so small in your son's gaze, one that resemblances Jungkook far too much for you to handle right now.
“You are.” Ji-tae deadpans.
“Tae,” you sigh, closing your eyes. “What-”
“That’s how you’re paying for it, right?” your son interrupts, his voice rising. “That’s how you got this car, too?”
“Tae - Tae!”
You get out of the car just as Ji-tae does. You slam the door behind you, not even bothering to lock it. You follow him right into the apartment. “Stop-”
“If that’s what you have to do to pay for everything then-”
“Didn’t I tell you to stop?!” you hiss at your son, your tone low and full of anger - but not at him. At yourself for putting your son in this position. Ji-tae may be young, yes, but he wasn’t dumb nor naive - especially not how you were when you were his age. He was highly aware of the world he lived in, even if he didn't speak it aloud.
Now, Ji-tae probably saw you differently.
“I told you to stop worrying about shit that doesn’t concern you!” you continue. Sometimes, you think the way you speak to your son, and the way he responds to you, isn’t that of a mother and son. You could blame that on teen pregnancy.
Ji-tae snickers. “It does concern me. If you’re sleeping with him to pay-”
“Stop.” you hiss, eyes widening at him. “It’s…complicated, Tae…” you take a deep breath. “You’re too young to understand it.”
You lean against the closed front door and sigh. Jumping into an abyss would be easier than having this conversation with a 13 year old.
“I’m old enough.” Ji-tae retorts.
You snort. You tilt your head a bit as you peer at your son. You lick your lips, your throat clogging up.
“I’m old enough to know that you look like you’re about to…cry.” Ji-tae murmurs. His shoulders slump a bit and now he feels remorseful. Maybe he should take your advice and remain his age - a part of him wants to. The other part of him hears his grandmother's words and her condescending tone telling him that you couldn’t afford the luxuries you give him - not without that job. In such a short amount of time, you’ve given him everything he’s asked for and more. You surprised him with a new gaming system, along with the overly expensive gaming chair you’ve remembered him speaking about.
But Ji-tae knows that he’ll gladly give it all aways if it meant you didn’t have to do what he’s suspect you are doing.
“I don’t want you to hate me.” you respond.
Sometimes you felt like it was your son who was the parent. You blame it on you being nothing but a dumb teenager when you had him, forced to grow up entirely too fast that you skipped the pivotal chapters. He was far wiser than anyone you’ve met his age, a trait you knew he hadn’t gotten from you.
“I don’t hate you.” Ji-tae swallows. “I don't want you to be taken advantage of, either.”
“You look just like him, you know? Your eyes were probably clouded with so much animosity that you hadn’t seen it.”
You make your way towards the kitchen. You could go for a drink right now, but you've decided that you’ll have to live with the self-pity for just a bit longer.
Ji-tae hovers in the door frame of said kitchen. He’s silent, replaying what you said in his mind.
“You said you’re old enough, right?” you ask. Ji-tae is eerily silent. “That’s Jungkook. He’s…your father.”
The word father coming from your lips sounds entirely too foreign.
There was a time that Ji-tae had asked about his father. He was only 7, you recall, and older than when you expected him to ask. You thought you prepared yourself for this moment, but even after he has asked you such an innocent question, you were left stunned for longer than you should’ve.
“You don’t have a dad..” Ji-tae pointed out, his small hand in yours as you and he strolled home from school. It’s an activity he remembers enjoying because it meant you and he could stop for ice cream. It was only when he was older did he realize why you never got yourself any.
You laughed at how blunt children could be. “I do.” you told him.
“Grandma says he’s in the ground.”
You nodded your head slowly. Your father wasn’t dead, he was just dead to your mother.
“Is my dad in the ground-”
“No!” you quipped. “He’s…just not around right now.”
It was the only explanation you’ve given Ji-tae and even then he took it. He hadn’t asked again, even if you told yourself that if he did, you’d explain it better to him. A part of you wished that you had more time but 6 years was enough time for you to say something to him.
Now, however, Ji-tae isn’t saying anything. He stands in the doorway and peers at you with familiar dark eyes that you weren’t sure you could handle.
“Tae,” you begin. “I didn’t-”
“Grandmother said you didn’t know who he was.”
You roll your eyes, because of course your mother would tell him that. You ponder how long your son sat and thought about you in a certain light.
“I did.” your teeth grits. “And if she was truly paying attention to who I brought in, she’d know, too.” you murmur, more to yourself than to Ji-tae.
While you were more involved in your son's life - his interests, friends, hobbies and all - your mother gave you the freedom to do whatever. You’re positive she regretted it in the end.
Ji-tae is quiet again, but his eyebrows knit together.
“Whats on your mind?” you ask him.
“So what?” your son shrugs his shoulders. “Why is he here now? Did he offer you this job out of pity or something?”
“What?” you shake your head. “Tae-”
“He wasn’t around for 13 years, ma. You don’t have to go back and do that-”
You close your eyes and take a deep breath. Your body warms with hot embarrassment at how conscious your son could be. Sometimes, though you’re grateful that he isn’t, you’d wish he’d be like the other boys his age and worry about childish things.
“Tae, stop.” you interrupt. “I don’t want you to,” you swallow, eyes fluttering open to look at your son. Your heart jolts. “hate him.”
“Why wouldn’t I?” your son snorts.
“Because,”
Ji-tae knows that when you bounce your leg it means that you’re nervous. You always tend to avoid his eyes.
“he didn’t know about you.”
There isn’t any weight lifted from your shoulders like you wished there would be.
“We drifted apart. I got pregnant, and he went to college.” you deadpan. “I never told him about the pregnancy. I never thought I’d see him again.” you admitted. “I didn’t know he’d be who he was today. I didn’t know it was his company I was interviewing for.”
In front of Jungkook, the clouds appear like an ocean full of cotton, the sky a fiery pink and purple. The sun is setting and it glows intensively just outside his window. He watches it from his seat, only blinking when he feels his eyes grow dry.
Jungkook’s mind replays the last 13 years in his mind for any clues he may have not noticed until now. It’s easier to pinpoint when you fell pregnant as it was only one time, but when did you find out? Was it prior to graduation or after?
Ji-tae’s face flashes through his mind. The glaring look that he sends his way is far too obvious that he for one, didn’t know who he was, and for two, held great animosity for him.
Jungkook inhales deeply through his nose and closes his eyes for a bit. It appears that things with you were more complicated than he thought they were.
Just then, Jungkook’s ears perk at the sound of the elevator. “Lei…” he grumbles underneath his breath. “...I have enough surprises.”
Who Jungkook was hoping to see was you. He had gone through several scenarios in how he would approach this.
You were scared, obviously. You didn’t tell him because you yourself were afraid of how he’d react. It’s the reason why, for a while, you kept the pregnancy hidden. There were no records of you giving birth to Ji-tae because they were hidden.
Even if Jungkook was optimistic, there was still the lingering thought in his mind that told him you had hidden the pregnancy for the same reason you decided to ignore him all together. That thought alone plagued his thoughts and feeds on the insecurity he told himself he got rid of years ago.
You weren’t behind the door when Jungkook turns just as they open. Instead, it was Ji-tae again. He doesn’t step inside and the uncertain look on his face tells Jungkook that even he hadn’t thought about what he’d say.
Jungkook peers inside the elevator to find that he’s alone. “Where’s Y/N?” he questions.
“Home.” Ji-tae responds quietly.
Jungkook blinks.
Ji-tae does, as well.
“You can come in.” suggests Jungkook awkwardly. “Does she know you’re here?”
Jungkook’s eyes capture the way Ji-tae runs a hand through his hair before hesitantly walking through the office. Instantly, his eyes soften at the realization that the younger boy knows more than he did when he left.
“No.” Ji-tae responds. “I snuck out.”
Just great, Jungkook thinks. At first, he thought your motherly instinct came natural to you when you interacted with Jinah. Instead, you had 13 years of experience on your belt that gave you a head start. Witnessing the worried expression on your face earlier only told Jungkook that it was a matter of time before you realized your son was gone.
“You shouldn’t have done that.” Jungkook rolls his leather seat out and prepares to sit. “She’ll be worried.”
“You don’t have to play the fatherly role.” Ji-tae retorts with a roll of his eyes. In that instinct, he saw you in the boy that resembles him.
Jungkook nods his head gently and says, “Do you want to sit?”
Jungkook motions for the leather seat on the opposite side of his desk.
“You came all this way for a reason, right? What’s on your mind?”
Ji-tae finds it easier to talk where he’s standing - which is awkwardly by the closed elevator. He doesn’t realize the height Jungkook possesses until he does get closer, or the dark eyes that seem to follow him as he sits down. In that moment, he believes his mother is right about the resemblance he holds to this same man.
Jungkook sits down, as well. His office is far too quiet for his own liking.
“What’s going on between you and my mother?”
Straight to the point, Jungkook notes. Another thing he inherited from you.
“Well,” Jungkook begins. “she works-”
“I know you’re sleeping with her.” Ji-tae interrupts, and that shuts Jungkook right up. “I’m not sure if you gave her this job out of pity or-”
“Pity?” Jungkook is confused now.
“Yes, pity.” Ji-tae swallows the lump in his throat. “I already told her she doesn’t need to pay for my classes anymore, so you can-”
“I didn’t hire your mother out of pity.” Jungkook interrupts the boy all together with a shake of his head. “I…what did she tell you about me?”
“What she told me is something I’m not sure I believe entirely.” Ji-tae murmurs.
“And what are you unsure about?” Jungkook leans against the desk.
“If you truly had no idea about me at all.”
Jungkook is taken aback and he visibly winces. Ji-tae bites the inside of his cheek, thinking it’s something he shouldn’t have said.
“As I was walking away she said that,” Ji-tae takes a deep breath. “that you were already accepted at some college and she didn’t want to ruin it.”
Didn’t want to ruin it, Jungkook thinks. His foot begins to tap against the marble floor. His eyes blink a few times.
“Were you two dating?”
Ji-tae knows it isn’t any of his business truly, even if it was the reason why he was alive right now. However, a part of him doesn’t want to leave just yet.
“No. Not really.” Jungkook murmurs.
“Oh…”
“I loved her.” Jungkook nods his head, leaning back against the chair. He feels exhausted in just a short amount of time. “I would’ve stayed if she told me.”
Ji-tae doesn’t know what to say, but before he has a chance to, a loud ring sounds throughout the office. Immediately, he knows it’s you calling.
“I guess she found out I’m not home.” Ji-tae sighs, your name flashing on his phone.
“You should answer it. You don’t want to worry her.”
Ji-tae takes a glance at Jungkook. “She’s going to be pissed at me.” he mumbles. “Can you talk to her?”
Jungkook’s eyes widened a bit. A part of his heart softens at the request. The other side knows that you would be just as equally pissed at him as you were with Ji-tae. However, Jungkook nods his head and holds out his hand for the ringing phone.
When he answers, you’re already on the other side demanding where Ji-tae was and why in the world he would leave without letting her know.
“Y/N.” Jungkook speaks into the phone. Ji-tae watches as the yelling stops for a moment, his eyes hopeful. “He’s fine. Maybe we should all talk together.”
Time’s were once simpler, you recall, like the moments you’d sneak out with your own friends.
It’s something you shouldn’t have done, but your mothers disregard gave you freedom a teenager shouldn’t have and you took advantage of it.
At times, you could feel it; the wind blowing through your hair whenever you drove with the windows down. When you heard a particular song that you’d once belt at the top of your lungs alongside them. You could taste the cheap alcohol that was either stolen from your parents, or liquor stores. Sometimes both.
The first time you’ve been to Jungkook’s house was one of those nights. The streets were quiet as you stumbled into his backyard, a borrowed pair of heels in your hand. The look on Jungkook’s face when he saw you at his window. “You shouldn’t be walking alone at night.” you recall him scolding you softly, a hand around your waist to assist you in coming in through his window. “You can’t be too loud, my brother’s room is right across from mine.”
You weren’t sure why you made your way to Jungkook’s house. It felt better than going home alone, you thought, or continuing to do dumb shit with your friends that teenagers had no business doing. You dropped your heels and tilted your head at Jungkook.
“Why aren’t you asleep?” you asked. “Jacking off again?”
The redness on Jungkook’s face is something you always found cute. It’s the reason why you often teased him to no end. You licked your lips, eyes glancing around Jungkook’s bedroom. Far tidier than you’d imagine a teenage boy's room to look. “You’re such a nerd.” you murmured to him upon witnessing a tall shelf with comic books and figurines on it.
“I wouldn’t be able to do your homework if I wasn’t one.” was Jungkook’s response. “I wasn’t jacking off.”
Your eyes turned back to Jungkook, his ears just as red as his cheeks. Maybe it’s the booze in your system that has you giggling uncontrollably, a hand over your lips. You plopped down onto his bed, snuggling yourself into his comforter. “I don’t believe you. Other boys are out and you’re in your room fucking your hand. It’s pathetic.”
You never believed your own words. You found Jungkook interesting, which was the reason you kept returning time and time again. It was more than using the boy to do your assignments and projects. With time, you enjoyed playing with Jungkook - if it was forcing him to smell your panties, sitting into his lap “innocently” to the point you felt an obvious bulge, or even forcing him to speak so demeaning to himself.
However, it isn’t always that. You did like to hear Jungkook talk about things that he was passionate about. Video games, or certain movies - mainly marvel. He’d sit and explain an entire timeline to you that you actually listened to. It made you realize you didn’t have anything like that yourself that you were passionate about.
“You’re probably right.” was Jungkook’s response. His eyes focused on the way your skirt rises up, his morality screaming to stop being so perverted. It was obvious you were far too intoxicated.
“You’re such a virgin.” you giggled. “Aren’t you glad I've given you all your firsts so far?”
You lift from Jungkook’s bed to face him. He licks his lips, doe-like eyes widening. His heart was pumping in his chest. “I am glad,” he murmured.
“Say thank you.” your eyes harden a bit, however your own heart jolts, as well. “I gave you your first kiss, right? Your first handjob, too. You should be more grateful that someone like me pities you enough.”
Again, Jungkook’s body warmed. You were always so quick to remind him everything you’ve done to him, even if it was just a secret you and he shared. How could you tell your friends that you enjoyed playing with Jungkook, someone they deemed beneath them? A loser?
“T-Thank you.” Jungkook stammered.
You broke out into a smile. It’s low and a bit sinister, but Jungkook still thinks you’re far too pretty and someone who couldn’t do any wrong. “Have you ever thought about…me fucking you, Kookie?”
It’s easy to notice the growing bulge in Jungkook’s pajama pants. It excites you to no end.
Jungkook’s heart thumped even louder because yes, he absolutely had thought about it. He didn’t know what sex felt like yet, but he imagined - with you - it would be something incredible.
“Yes.” Jungkook murmured.
You laughed.
Your laugh is just as demeaning as your tone always was.
“You’re such a pervert.” you quip. “Say it.”
“I’m a pervert.” Jungkook mumbled. From across the hall, he hears his brother’s tv sounds.
You laughed again. You were too buzzed to handle Jungkook and his submission.
“You’d do whatever I tell you to, huh?” you tease, a grin on your lips. “I should stop being so mean to you, right?”
Jungkook wasn’t sure where the sudden change in your demeanor went. It happened fast, your teasing and soft eyes, to something more serious. He didn’t have the chance to question you on it before you return back to what you once were. “Take your pants off.”
“W-Why?”
“Just do it.” you shrugged your shoulders.
Jungkook had a lot of memories of you and he drawn into his memories. This moment, watching the way you hike up your skirt to remove your own panties and toss them aside, was one of many. He recalls the way he does as he’s told easily, his cock hardened at just the mere sight of you.
Jungkook remembers the way his bed creaks when you push him onto it and get on top of him, your thighs caging him between you. You sit directly on him, your clit grinding against his shaft. This was the closest he’s ever been to having sex, and he wasn’t even inside of you - that didn’t make it any less exciting for him.
“You don’t have to do this.” was what you hadn’t expected to hear from him - or any teenage boy. “You’re drunk, right?”
You recall the way your nails dig into his shoulders and how wide your eyes got. Your heart had jolted once more, but you were always left confused whenever Jungkook showed signs of genuine concern for you.
“I’m not drunk.” you murmured to him. It wasn’t a complete lie, you were buzzed, yes, but not completely incoherent. “Maybe I feel sorry for you being all alone.”
It was you who felt lonely after far too many drinks, your mind clouded with the very boy beneath you.
You press yourself firmly against him. “I left my friends to come here.”
You lied and told them you had to go home.
“Aren’t you happy?”
You didn’t know how you'd act if Jungkook had rejected you fully at that moment.
Jungkook doesn’t. He tells you that he is happy - and it was genuine. He’s happy that you chose him out of anyone to do this with, even if his cock wasn’t inside you. Feeling your pussy, warm, wet and dripping all over him, was enough.
You weren’t quiet in the slightest, however, no matter how hard Jungkook pleaded with you with fluttering eyes. You were in bliss yourself, your hips rutting, slippery pussy gliding against his hard cock. Your hands tug at his own to touch you anywhere, stating that he should be grateful you were here with him right now.
“I think I’m going to cum-”
Jungkook didn’t mean to slam his hand against your lips, he just didn’t need anyone waking up and hearing you right now.
What Jungkook didn’t expect was your tongue to wrap around his fingers and suckle onto them, blurry eyes staring right at him. He cums, it’s hard and fast and sticks all over you, but you don’t care because you cum right along with him.
You share many memories with Jungkook, even if your situation with him only lasts a school year. That was the first time he had told you about his college entrance exams, stating that the very next morning he had to take them. You recalled the way he calls you a good luck charm when he places an arm around your waist and holds you close to him, the intimacy frightening you to no end.
Jungkook recalls the way you were gone by the time he woke up the following morning as if a fragment of his own imagination.
Now, Jungkook watches the way his son - it was weird to even think about - eyes stare at the large estate as he drives through the gates.
Ji-tae doesn’t say anything. He hadn’t said much the entire ride there. Your car is already waiting for them as they arrive and once Jungkook pulls in, you’re already getting out of the car.
“You live here?” Ji-tae murmurs as Jungkook puts the car in park. A part of him isn’t ready to face you.
“Yes.” Jungkook responds. “Are you hungry? Dinner should be served soon.”
Ji-tae furrows his brows. “You have a cook?”
“Only sometimes.” Jungkook admits. “There was no time for me to cook today.” he trails off, because it was obvious. He had to find someone else to pick up Jinah entirely instead of you like she’s used to.
You have to admit seeing Jungkook and Ji-tae together does something to your heart. You didn’t want to face the reality of it all, however, especially when Jungkook draws nearer. “He’s hungry.”
“He always is.” you glance at Ji-tae, who adverts his eyes as soon as you look at him. “I was just about to start cooking until I realized you were gone.”
“We need to talk.”
“I should take Ji-tae-”
“It wasn’t a suggestion.” Jungkook interrupts.
You take a deep breath. “I’m taking my son-”
“Your son?!” Jungkook scoffs at your choice of words.
You swallow. “Get in the car, Tae.” your words grit out. “Jungkook, I’ll-”
“He’s hungry.” Jungkook hisses, his eyes glaring towards you.
Ji-tae has never been in a parental dispute before. In just a short amount of time, he realized he had a father.
No, his father wasn’t dead.
Yes, his mother knew exactly who he was.
And he was right in the middle of it all.
“Let him eat.” Jungkook continues. “You and I need to talk.”
There wasn’t any getting out of this, you note. Jungkook’s eyes are hard and staring right through you.
“Fine.” you quip.
Sitting across from a child that looked just like him wasn’t on Ji-tae’s itinerary.
Jeon Jinah stares at Ji-tae just as he stares right back at her. His stomach rumbles when he smells the food that the older man - a chef - places right in front of them.
Jinah watches curiously as the older boy eats as if he hadn’t in days. It reminds her of when her dad eats, shoving food down faster than he could chew. It makes her laugh but just a bit and she follows his lead, shoving food into her own mouth just as aggressively.
“That’s it?” Jungkook scoffs. “That’s all you have to say to me? It is what it is?”
Jungkook’s office is the furthest from the dining area that would grant them such privacy.
“You kept my son-”
“You have no proof that he’s yours.” you deadpan, only because you had no actual argument.
“Can you be serious for once, Y/N?” Jungkook rolls his eyes. “You’re actually so fucking selfish.”
You bite the inside of your cheek, your eyes glaring daggers at him. “I’m selfish?” you spit.
“Yeeesss!” Jungkook hisses. “What the fuck have I done to you?”
You snicker. “I don’t have time for this.” you wave Jungkook off. You were only willing to talk because it was evident Jungkook wasn’t going to let you leave - and you didn’t want to cause a scene with Ji-tae watching and Jinah close.
Your hands grasp the doorknob to get out of this entirely, but from behind you Jungkook slams it shut. “You’re good for that, aren’t you?” he hisses.
“Fuck off, Kook.” you push yourself away from him.
“No.” Jungkook steps closer to you. “That’s all you do, Y/N. You keep running. How long are you going to run until you’re out of breath?”
“When are you going to get out of the past?” you question. “You’ve forced me-”
Jungkook laughs in disbelief. “I didn’t force you to do anything.”
“No?” It was your turn to laugh. “Was it not you claiming that you wouldn’t let me leave?”
“You’re changing the subject. That isn’t the point and you know it.” Jungkook barks. “Why are you choosing to ignore the elephant in the room? The elephant being a 13 year old child. My child.”
You cross your arms over your chest. You didn’t have an answer. At least not the right one Jungkook would be looking for. Your body is hot and you were in fight or flight mode - and he knows exactly which mode you’ll rather be taking now.
“It is,” your eyes look at Jungkook’s once more. “what it is.”
Jungkook takes a deep breath. His throat makes a noise - a snicker of disbelief. He blinks a few times. He recalls the one and only time he’s ever put a hand on a woman and it was Jinah’s mother - for good reason, he always tells himself. But now, he finds that he wants to do the same to you. He doesn’t, but the thought flickers in his mind.
“Did you hate me that much?”
Your hard demeanor crumbles at Jungkook’s words. Even more at the crack in his voice at the end of his question. You don’t look at him anymore, and instantly Jungkook notices.
“You did.” Jungkook licks his lips. “Whatever animosity you felt towards me, Y/N, you didn’t have to take it out on him.”
“I didn’t take anything out on Ji-tae!” you hiss, uncrossing your arms.
“You did!” Jungkook barks back. “You denied him a father, have you not?”
The way you flinch has Jungkook taking a step back. He swallows the lump in his throat. He has to calm himself down, he thinks.
“For once, can you just think about how I feel?” Jungkook questions. “To have him look at me the way he did. With such animosity. He thought you were lying to him.”
You turn away from Jungkook. The study is large with books lining the wall. A studded leather seat sits behind a desk that looks obsessively organized. You don’t care about the study or the desk, you just don’t want Jungkook to look at you right now. Your eyes were beginning to burn and it was you that now appeared utterly pathetic.
“About…what?” you murmur.
“About not knowing he existed.” Jungkook grits his teeth. “He thought I abandoned him, Y/N. That now I pity you and-“
“I told him the truth!” you exclaim, still your back turned away from him. “I…I don’t want him to hate you.”
“Too late for that.” Jungkook scoffs. “I don’t blame him. I wouldn’t believe it, either. It still hurts.”
You squeeze your eyes close. You didn’t want to be here anymore and have to face the consequences of your actions. Jungkook was right to feel how he does. You should have told him about your pregnancy. You should have explained it all to him - your feelings, no matter how confused you were about them, your reasoning for leaving him alone entirely. All of it.
And not even just Jungkook, but Ji-tae. You had taken a father away from him. Even if you told yourself you were doing the right thing, it didn’t mean that it was the right thing. There’s a part of Ji-tae that he’s missed out on for so long that he’s told you himself he doesn’t want if it meant hurting you.
“I didn’t hate you.” you murmur, so low and defeated.
“You sure?” Jungkook snickers. You haven’t turned around yet. “Could have fooled me. You know…I told you about Jinah,” he begins. “about how she needed a woman in her life. Why didn’t you tell me then? You didn’t think Ji-tae needed a father in his life?”
“Of course I did.”
Your throat begins to ache and before you know it, you feel your cheeks wet. You were crying, something you didn’t want - not in front of Jungkook.
“Maybe I wasn’t the father you thought he needed.”
Jungkook speaks so certainly. He’s doing what he always does when it comes to you. He gets further into his head, his own insecurities speaking louder than you are.
“What?” You wipe your own eyes and sniffle a bit. “What the fuck are you on about now, Kook?”
“Well what else could it be?” Jungkook exclaims. “You made your choice 13 years ago. You ghosted me and took Ji-tae with you.”
“That’s not true.” you turn around, eyes glossy and red.
“Then tell me what the fuck is the truth?!” Jungkook is taken aback by your appearance. Glossy eyes, trembling lips. He realized he’s never seen you cry before - or look this vulnerable. “I followed you around because I was pathetic, right? I did your homework and all assignments.”
“Stop.” you hiss, but he doesn’t.
“I did whatever you told me to do. I touched myself in front of you because you told me to. I smelt your panties because you told me to.”
Jungkook is now a few inches away from you. He’s angered, similar to the way he was in his office hours ago.
“I told you I loved you.” Jungkook murmurs. “And still I wasn't good enough for you.”
You push past Jungkook, feeling the familiar ache in your throat. You’re at his office door again - you couldn’t deal with this. Not now.
“There you go again.” Jungkook is behind you just as you peel the door open. “Running away from your problems.”
You don’t make it far out the door before Jungkook is grasping your bicep and yanking you back.
“Be honest for once, Y/N. Say it.” Jungkook forces you to face him. “Tell me how pathetic I am, again. Isn’t that why you left me? You’ll rather have Ji-tae grow up without a father than for me to be that.”
You push at Jungkook’s chest as hard as you could. His grip on your bicep disappears, but you can still feel his fingers on you.
“Don’t you think I did it because of you?!” you hiss, pushing him again.
“Because of me?!” Jungkook’s eyes widened at your audacity.
“Yes, you!” you bellow. You don’t mean to. The door is wide open now and you’re positive Ji-tae and Jinah could hear. “I didn’t have what you did. I wasn’t accepted anywhere like you!”
You push him again, but this time Jungkook doesn’t attempt to dodge your attack.
“I didn’t have parents that cared about me like you did. Do you really think you’ll be where you are now if I would have told you?”
Jungkook watches the way you cry once more. That was twice in just a short amount of time. You’ve stopped pushing him and instead sob just a bit.
Now, Jungkook feels terrible. His words replay in his mind and he comes to the actuality of your words. You did it for him.
“Y/N…”
Your sobbing stops. You peer, through blurred eyes, the look that Jungkook gives you. Instantly, it angers you. You hated being pitied.
“Shut up and don’t look at me!” you hiss.
“Don’t do that.” Jungkook shakes his head with a sigh. “Don’t shut me out again.”
Jungkook wants to reach out and touch you, but he’s afraid that you’d attack him for real this time.
“Do you really think,” you wipe at your eyes bitterly. “that your parents would’ve allowed you to give everything you worked for…for me?” you scoff. “A slut who got herself pregnant-“
“I got you pregnant.” Jungkook interrupts. “Stop blaming yourself, Y/N. You didn’t do anything by yourself. I loved you more than going to fucking college.”
You scoff and shake your head. “You don’t get it, Kook. Do you really think I wanted you to do that?”
Before Jungkook has the chance to get further into his own head and jump through conclusions, you continue.
“Do you really think I wanted you to give up everything you worked hard for? For me?
Watching Jungkok with his family, from afar, was enough for you to come to the conclusion that you’d keep this pregnancy to yourself; at least for now. Even now, you recall the way your stomach sunk at the look on Jungkook’s face. He’s holding up his diploma as he takes pictures alongside his parents. There’s several medals around his neck and even an award in his hand.
Jungkook wasn’t like you - you thought it right there. Jungkook had two parents that loved him. He had parents that were proud of him. His own mother had tears in her own eyes as she stared at her son so lovingly.
Proudly.
“Cheer up!” Ava exclaimed, wrapping her arm around your shoulders. She shakes you a bit. She doesn’t know about your pregnancy, nor does she know just who you’re staring at. “We actually passed!”
“Thanks to Jungkook.” Lia giggled on the other side of you. “College is going to be hard without him. We sure as hell ain't going where he is.”
You felt your stomach churn at the mention of Jungkook. To your friends, he was nothing but a nerd you used to get what you wanted out of him, and in a way he was. However, you hadn’t told them how your heart felt whenever you were around him. You hadn’t told them how funny Jungkook actually was, and smarter than he even shows.
Your friends didn’t know about you sneaking away from them to visit Jungkook in his bedroom. How your heart felt as he held you all night - how you wished you’d stay but forced yourself to leave even before the sun came up.
Your friends didn’t know that you preferred the company of Jungkook over theirs.
“Yeah.” you murmur. “We aren’t.”
Now, Jungkook stares at you. You’re breathing so heavily and for the first time, you actually feel like just a bit of weight is coming off of your shoulders.
“Look at everything you’ve accomplished.” you wave your hand around at the estate - at everything, truly. “The business. The success. Do you really think you’d have it if you hadn’t left?”
The question has Jungkook stunned. He’s silent, pondering on it. Would he, he thinks, have it all? You were the main cause of his success. You leaving him gave him the drive he needed to be where he was today. It was an action he took to prove to you that he was worthy, even if he never saw you again.
Jungkook bites the inside of his cheek, his heart jumping in his chest.
“No, right?” you run a hand over your hair, chuckling a bit. Bitterly. “You wouldn’t.”
“I wouldn’t have cared, either.” Jungkook responds. “I would have been fine going to community college. Or nowhere at all if it meant I could have stayed with you.”
You feel that ping in your chest again. It’s the same feeling you felt all those years ago while in Jungkook’s room. The way he looked in your eyes and told you that you didn’t have to do this. It’s a feeling you’ve never felt until that moment, you recall. The softness in his voice and the genuine look in his eye.
“Jinah wouldn’t be here.” you mumble. Jungkook wasn't getting it, you think, or at least not in the way you need him to.
Jungkook is silent once more.
Jinah.
Taking a deep breath, Jungkook feels that wave of exhaustion flows through him once more.
“Stay here tonight.” Jungkook pleads. “And don’t leave this time.”
You knit your brows. “What do you mean?”
“You always leave. Everytime.” Jungkook murmurs. “Like you did the first time. In my bedroom. You leave before we have the chance to actually talk.”
You bite your lip. Now wasn’t the time for you to bottle your emotions and mask them underneath slick remarks.
“I want us to talk when we’re both level headed. Right now…let’s just eat. As a family.”
Jungkook steps out into the hallway and presses a hand onto your shoulder. He peers down at you, tilting his head just a bit. His eyes are curious. He wants to know what you’re thinking. He wants to ask everything - how was your pregnancy? How did you find out it was a boy? Did you have him naturally? Jungkook couldn’t imagine how you felt in labor, alone without him there to comfort you.
Jungkook’s lips are warm against your head. Your shoulders slump a bit, a sudden calmness overcoming you.
Ji-tae watches from the corner. Jinah is behind him. She’s confused, maybe even a bit upset at how irate her father appeared. She looks up at him with similarly dark eyes, her clothes ruined by attempting to keep up with him in eating.
“Are they fighting?” Jinah whispers.
“We gotta go sit down.” was Ji-tae’s response just as Jungkook lifts his lips from your forehead. “I bet you can’t beat me to the table.”
Jinah instantly forgets the yelling just down the hall and runs as fast as her legs could bring her. Ji-tae glances back at you - the sight of you and Jungkook. His mind races with questions that he himself wishes he had the answers to. Instead, he turns on his feels and strolls after Jinah, assuring she got to the table right before he had.
Jinah talks - and talks, and talks. It makes the dinner table feel a bit less awkward. Her main fascination now was Ji-tae - the new boy who was older, but not yet a man like her father. She asked question after question and it’s Jungkook who’s impressed by how patient he was. He answers all of her questions while Jinah sits with dirtied designer clothes and stained cheeks.
You’re a bit amused - and maybe even a little content - with watching Jinah and Ji-tae, even if she doesn’t fully comprehend who he is just yet. She invites him to her ballet recital, stating that he could sit front row alongside you and her dad. At first she was disappointed with hearing “I’ll try”, but it subsides when Ji-tae tells her it would depend if he was done with his gymnastic meets. As if on queue, her - and Jungkook’s - ears perk. The younger girl goes on and on without taking as much as a breath in how she too takes gymnastics - how she flips and always lands on her feet; unlike the other girls her age.
“Can I go?!” Jinah then turns to Jungkook - because she always did. There wasn’t anything she couldn’t get out of him, her matching eyes staring longingly at him until he eventually gave in.
“I don’t think-” was all Jungkook could get out before her eyes began to water rather dramatically. Jinah knew that her father was leading up to a no, and a young girl with a closet just for her dolls, designer clothing and a tea set imported from Europe wasn’t accustomed to anything that wasn’t yes.
“You can come.” Ji-tae speaks up. “On one condition.”
Jungkook lets out a sigh of relief when Jinahs eyes - that coincidently appears dry now - turns to Ji-tae.
“Con..di..shon.” Jinah squints her eyes. She doesn’t know what that means.
“Condition. Like…a promise.” Ji-tae takes another bite of the steak. It happened to be his second plate right when you and Jungkook arrived. “When I come in first place, you cheer louder than everyone there.”
It’s you that rolls your eyes - Ji-tae was always competitive, a trait he didn’t get from you as you couldn’t care less about coming on top. “It’s a local competition, so she won’t be kicked out.”
You learned the hard way when Ji-tae was 10. To think of the amount of money you spent leading up to the competition, you’d be able to cheer.
Jungkook watches the way Jinah lifts her pinky as if she was signing a contract. He glances your way to find you’re already looking at him and he thinks maybe things are going to be alright - at least in this moment.
Currently, Ji-tae lays in the large bed in Jungkook’s home. He’s wearing headphones, his eyes staring right on the ceiling. His mind is clouded a bit, drifting to everything that he’s learned all in one day. He thinks of your and Jungkook’s conversation that you hadn’t known he was listening to, how you stated you didn’t have the things Jungkook had. He thinks of the pictures that were lining the living room walls of Jinah in different stages - gymnastics, ballet, her first days of pre-school and kindergarten.
Ji-tae even notices other pictures of families, but his eyes don't linger on them for longer than he needed to.
Ji-tae stirs when the dim room begins to brighten. He removes the headphones from around him and lifts up from his laying position to look towards the door.
Jinah’s so small as she peers in. She opens it more once she realizes that Ji-tae is already up.
She’s holding something in her hands when she comes deeper in. Ji-tae sets the headphones beside him and goes towards the lamp on the end table and turns it on.
“Ice cream.” Jinah murmurs quietly as this was one of her biggest secrets once her father went to bed. She’s none the wiser about the cameras in the home, nor does Jungkook ever scold her about her late night ice cream adventures.
Ji-tae is amused when Jinah holds out the ice-cream for him. It’s wrapped in white wrapping and instantly, he knows it’s a drumstick. He takes it from her small hands. “Thanks.” he whispers to her.
Jinah settles onto the bed, her legs crossed as she messily opens the ice cream, a few of the roasted peanuts falling onto her pajamas and onto the bed.
You sit on Jungkook’s bed, your eyes lingering on his back. It flexes each time he moves his arms as he dries his hair. You had showered after dinner when he was getting Jinah ready for bed, and as he did, you had spoken to Ji-tae about spending the night, assuring that in the morning you’d get him a change of clothes and her gym bag.
“I think he hates me.”
Jungkook turns around to face you. You’re already watching him. He thinks you look cute when you wear his clothing, now only being in an oversize shirt as you didn’t have any of your own clothes here.
“Ji-tae doesn’t hate you.” you say to him. “Why do you feel that way?”
Jungkook strolls towards the right of the room and back towards the bathroom. He hands his towel to dry before returning. “I don’t know, really.” he admits. “I might just be projecting. I mean…I’d hate me if I was him.”
“Come here.” you gesture for Jungkook to take a seat besides you. He’s only wearing underwear, prepared for bed. You want to do just that, but you also know Jungkook wouldn’t be able to sleep if his mind was so hell-bent on telling him he was hated by a 13 year old.
Jungkook does. You face him as he sits down, your eyes take in his face, to his bare chest.
You take a deep breath. For a moment, you are both silent. Jungkook knits his brows a bit - it looks like you want to say something, but it appears to be troubling you. There’s a slight grimace on your face.
“I’m sorry.” you mumble.
Jungkook blinks.
Then, Jungkook blinks again. He blinks a total of five times.
His eyebrows soften. “That took a lot out of you, huh?” he snickers, his lips twitching.
The snarky side of you would’ve snapped at him by now, something that wouldn’t have offended him entirely because he loves it, but you note that it wasn’t the time for that. Jungkook, after having some time to think over your words, had calmed down from earlier.
“I’m sorry, too.”
“For what?” you ask. “You didn’t do anything.”
Unless you count the way he spoke to you after not seeing you for 13 years. Or how unprofessional the relationship you and he had as boss and “assistant”. The list could go on - how he talked about you to his closest friends that he met in college, said friends that now despise you without even truly knowing you. How he had resentment towards you that caused him to take it out on every woman afterwards.
It isn’t Jungkook’s proudest moments.
“You had to go through it all alone, right?” Jungkook questions. “I can be upset with you for how things happened, but I can also try to put myself in your shoes.”
You hated being sentimental. It was a weird feeling - different than the sexual tension that Jungkook fucked out of you. That was easier than sitting here right now underneath his gaze. Your throat begins to ache and your heart does the annoying jolting again.
“I would’ve stayed.” Jungkook repeats his words from earlier.
“That would’ve been dumb.” you snort, glancing away from him to further avoid his gaze. “You would’ve stayed with the bitch that used you?”
Your foot begins to bounce slightly.
“You were too kind, Kook.” you say. “You let me use you and-”
“Was I not a willing participant?” Jungkook interrupts you. He leans closer to you, reaching out to gently poke your cheek. “You speak as if you took advantage of me, Y/N. I did your homework because I wanted to. I skipped classes because I wanted to.”
When you finally turn back towards Jungkook, you find that his own eyes are already waiting for you.
You exhale. “I thought you would’ve found a girlfriend in college.” you attempt to change the subject. “Someone nice.”
“I did.” Jungkook replies.
You furrow your brows. “Oh?” you ask. You’re unsure how to feel - even if you know you don’t deserve to feel anything at all.
Jungkook tilts his head. “Didn’t work out.” he murmurs.
You swallow. “Why not?”
Jungkook shrugs his shoulders. “She was too nice.” he responds. “Isn’t that fucked up? It didn’t work out because she was too nice?” he snorts. “I was an asshole in college. I’ve built up resentment towards you without even realizing that I was trying to find you in every woman I involved myself with. Too nice, not nice when it mattered, too submissive. I was just never satisfied.”
Again, you feel it. This time, it’s a feeling you’ve felt before when Jungkook, as teenagers, stated that he didn’t talk to other girls; something you hadn’t felt in a long time.
“What about you? Have you dated anyone?”
“Y-Yeah.” you nod. “Not long. Only one guy.”
“What happened?” Jungkook doesn’t want to think about someone else having you.
“Stole from me.” you reply quickly. “Called me a crazy bitch on his way out. Stealing from me meant he was also stealing from Ji-tae. After that, I realized I didn’t have time to date. I stopped.” You shrugged your shoulders just as he did. “It’s always just been Ji-tae and I.”
Jungkook doesn’t say anything. He tries to imagine what you’d look like pregnant, even as young as you were. What you’d look like holding a young boy's hands and navigating the world when you yourself were so young.
“This has to be a lot to take in at such a young age.”
You nod your head in agreement. You want to talk to Ji-tae again in the morning. He’s punctual and waking up in a new environment would surely throw off his routine, but Jungkook does have a home gym you were sure he didn’t mind him using.
You hum to yourself, your mind drifting a bit before Jungkook speaks again.
“I want him to talk to a therapist.”
You blink.
“I know someone. He’s a friend of mine,” Jungkook begins. “from college. He’s the best in the city, too. I think it’ll be good for all of us.”
You find yourself inhaling again. “I think so, too.” you agree. “Hopefully whatever we say is confidential.” you tease - only a bit, because you did want some form of privacy if you were going to be speaking to a therapist.
Jungkook snorts. “Joon’s professional.” he assures. “He takes his job and license seriously. Plus, he’s a genuine friend of mine. He’s one of the few that doesn’t hate you.”
Jungkook stiffens a bit when he realizes he’s said too much. He watches your expression change for a moment, before it flickers back to the more stoic one he remembers.
“I mean-”
“I know what you mean.” you interrupt. “So…how much of a bitch did you tell them I was to you?”
You’re staring so intently at him, but you appear so calm. Jungkook doesn’t know if you’re upset with him, or toying with him like you enjoy doing.
“Did you tell them how obsessed you were with me?” you murmur. It’s right then that Jungkook sees it, that twinkle in your eyes. “I bet they tried hooking you up with girls, right?”
You adjust yourself to turn fully towards Jungkook, his oversize shirt hiking up your thighs just a bit to offer him a peak of what's beneath it - which isn’t anything at all. His shoulders relax just a bit, his eyes blinking away from your smooth thighs back to your eyes.
Softly, Jungkook nods his head.
Your lips curl upwards just a bit and it excites him. He feels a shudder run up his spine, the hair on his arm rising as goosebumps break out.
“I can’t wait to meet them.”
You move fast - or maybe Jungkook just doesn’t care to react. You climb right into his lap, sitting directly against his clothed crotch and he immediately wants to remove his underwear to feel you fully.
Your hands settle on his chest a bit, your eyes watching the way your fingers trace along the tattoo on his chest. You tilt your head just a bit just as Jungkook’s hands settle onto your waist.
“Did you tell them the wicked bitch from your past return? Or am I a secret?”
Jungkook doesn’t intend to hide the truth from you. “Secret.” he responds. He knows his friends. You haven’t been a topic to them for years now, but when you were they didn’t have anything nice to say. Namjoon, like he stated, was neutral. He attempted to see things from your point of view, even if he didn’t have it. He came up with his own conclusions to not fully demonize you, a teenage girl.
Jimin, however, couldn’t be convinced. Upon immediately meeting Jungkook, the shy freshman with soft eyes that kept to himself, he thought of you as a lion that preyed on a lamb. His attempts in meeting different girls in college had gone down the drain, but it didn’t mean he ever stopped. He was ecstatic in knowing that Jungkook had a child on the way and prayed that it would work out with Jinah’s mother.
It didn’t.
However, Jimin wasn’t one to quit.
Hoseok was uninterested in you, but brought you up the most as the years dragged on. He couldn’t understand how one girl could have his friend act in such a way.
“How would they react if you told them?”
Your fingers tap upwards to his collarbone, to his neck.
“I bet they were hoping you’d get over me, too.”
“They’ll get over it.” Jungkook grabs your hand into his own. He brings it to his lips to press soft kisses onto your fingertips. “They have to, right? You aren’t going anywhere.”
It’s a settled statement, not a question in sight. He’s telling you directly as calmly as he could.
“What was your pregnancy like?”
You blink.
Jungkook watches the way your expression shifts, your eyebrows knitting together. “My…pregnancy?”
“Yeah.” Jungkook nods curtly. “Did it go easily?”
The shift in conversation takes you by surprise, but you try not to dwell on it. “Um,” your mind races in order to think back to your pregnancy years ago. “I remember being exhausted. All Tae did was kick nonstop.”
Jungkook wants to envision it; you pregnant, your stomach forming as the months go on. The more he thinks of it, the sadder he gets - as pathetic it sounds - to not experience it alongside you.
“I was always hungry. I thought I’d get these weird cravings, you know?” you tell him and Jungkook listens intently, intrigued by it all while you sit in his lap. “But I didn’t. I would eat while walking around the house because that seemed to calm him down a bit.”
“Did you want a boy?”
Jungkook’s question brings you back to that time all those years ago. It reminds you of how lonely you felt without your friends - without him. All of your doctor visits were held in the next town over to assure - as your mother requested - you wouldn’t be seen by anyone she knew. Almost rarely did she attend with you.
It was moments like that, you sitting alone in the small space, that you ask yourself what it would’ve been like if you had told Jungkook. Or anyone else.
You stare with squinting eyes at the screen, your heart jolts against your chest at how weird it felt to see the fetus right inside of you.
You pondered if she was judging you, someone so young and without anyone to accompany her. She was nice, you recall, always smiled at you and even asked if you wanted to know the gender at a different appointment.
You hadn’t thought about the gender much - not until that day. At your uncertainty, she had given you an envelope and it takes you exactly 2 weeks to open it.
You weren’t sure exactly what you were afraid of - you were doing this regardless. Did you want a girl? That would be easier seeing as you yourself were one. You knew what it was like to be a girl living in this world. You knew how the world operated - for the most part - and you could teach her things your mother hadn’t taught you. You could show her the affection you wished you had, even right at that moment.
You remember the way you cried upon opening the envelope and reading “It’s a boy!” written neatly on it. You weren’t sure why you were crying. You hadn’t cried in months, but yet there you sat in your own bedroom, bawling at the thought of raising a boy all on your own.
“Yeah. I did.” you answer Jungkook truthfully. “I cried,” you snorted to yourself. “but then…I was happy. It’s just been Ji-tae and I ever since. We grew up together.”
Jungkook smiles at that. His fingers tap along your waist as he thinks about you and Ji-tae - you holding his smaller hands in yours. You holding him to your chest, him learning how to walk and talk similar to how he and Jinah were.
“I know what I did wasn’t right.”
You lean closer to Jungkook until your forehead touches his and your nose glides against one another. Jungkook’s heart races at how close you and he are. It appeared that no matter how many times he’s had you, you always had the ability to make his heart race as if he was the same teenage boy from his youth.
“But…” you murmur. Your lips are nearly touching his. “...I don’t want you to hate me.”
In that moment, Jungkook feels you shift in his lap and press yourself against his (embarrassingly hard) cock. It’s easier to feel you as you weren’t wearing anything underneath his shirt.
“I don’t hate you.” Jungkook answers almost instantly, his lips parting a bit. “You know I don’t.”
“Hm,” your hands trail teasingly behind his neck, and when you do so Jungkook has no choice but to shudder. “I know.”
Your lips capture his and he takes it all in needily. Instantly, his hold onto your waist tightens as you kiss him, growing more lewd by the second.
Your fingers trail into his hair, lightly tugging at them as Jungkook’s hands slide upwards and underneath the shirt to touch your soft skin. His tongue suckles onto yours, moaning into your mouth helplessly.
“Where do we go from here?” you say against his lips. Your body feels so hot and Jungkook’s hands on you doesn’t help.
“Where do you want it to go?” murmurs Jungkook in response.
There’s another light tug on Jungkook’s hair, one that feels good to the touch. Maybe because you were the one doing it.
“I thought I didn’t have a choice.”
Jungkook inhales your scent. It’s clean and simple, nothing too dramatic. He can feel his cock twitch to be free from its barrier and feel you. His hands slide up your sides until they’re right underneath your breast.
“I don’t want you to go.” Jungkook says, pecking your lips, then sending kisses down your jaw. “I want you both here with me and Jinah.”
You hum, deciding to deepen the kiss once more. Jungkooks’s hands tighten their grip on you, sliding up until they’re gripping your breast entirely. Your nipples hard instantly and you couldn’t help but groan into his mouth.
“You aren’t making it easier for me.” Jungkook murmurs against your lips. “I think you know what you’re doing.”
You’re amused. “What am I doing exactly?” you ask, but you know the teasing tone in your voice followed by the way you slightly grind against him that it’s obvious.
“That,” Jungkook sighs. “you’re torturing me, right now. You always liked doing that.”
You did. As much as you enjoyed doing it, Jungkook enjoyed being on the receiving end of it. His thumbs press against your hardened nipples, twirling them slowly, his dark eyes watching you.
“You’re supposed to be madder at me right now.” you voice. Leaning away from Jungkook, he immediately misses your warmth, but his hands settle on your waist. “You’re too forgiven.”
Jungkook takes a deep breath. For a moment, he watches you. It’s hard being upset with you when you’re already in his lap and he can feel just how wet you are, even through his underwear. It makes it harder when he does hear things from your point of view, something Namjoon had insisted he do plenty of times before, even when he didn’t have it. While he went years building resentment for you while simultaneously trying to find you in every woman he sought out, you were raising a child on your own.
Jungkook isn’t sure what he thought your life would be, truly. He assumed you’ve gone to college elsewhere and found someone else as weak as him. He assumed you used your abilities to get yourself somewhere far, far away from it all.
“You’re thinking too hard again.”
Your voice brings him back to reality. He blinks once, then twice.
“I am mad.” Jungkook murmurs.
“Oh?” you tilt your head, peering down at him.
Jungkook feels his heart jolt.
“I’m mad you didn’t tell me, but you already knew that.” Jungkook continues. “I’m mad you did it all alone.”
“And what else?”
Jungkook isn’t sure what you’re doing by asking him this. What more did you want to hear from him? As long as he’s known you, there has to be some way for you to further toy with him. He’s sure of it when you grasp the end of his shirt and pull it over your head, removing the last piece of clothing until you’re fully naked on top of him.
“I’m mad you m-made me waste unnecessary time.”
“Did I?” you snicker, more amused by the slight stutter in his words. Your fingers tap along Jungkook’s chest, dipping lower and lower. “Maybe you should blame yourself, too. I couldn’t have been hard to find, right?”
You don’t blame Jungkook in the slightest and you were truly just talking for the sake of it.
When you read his abdomen, Jungkook can feel his cock flinch desperately.
“I wanted to.” Jungkook admits, a tint on his cheeks. “Jimin told me not to.”
“Jimin…” you say his name far too sweet for Jungkook’s liking. “...a friend of yours?”
Jungkook nods.
“What does he think about me?”
Your fingers are now at the band of his underwear, the calvin klein lettering looking back up at you.
“Jimin…holds grudges…” Jungkook licks his lips. “But he doesn’t know you, just-”
“Knows what you told him?” you finish the sentence. “I’m fine with that.”
Your fingers dig into his underwear and right as you lift yourself off of him, you peel them down. Embarrassingly, Jungkook’s cock shoots up, tip red and angry.
Swallow, Jungkook murmurs, “I thought about you a lot. But…”
You allow Jungkook to speak. His underwear stops at his knees and he wiggles them off until he’s fully free of them.
“...I still resented you. Hoseok didn’t make it any better.”
You allow Jungkook to speak, grasping his cock in your palm and centering it at your entrance. You watch his face entirely.
“He told me to take my frustration from you out on other girls.”
Jungkook’s lips part, letting out a sharp breath when he feels the tip slide between your lips. So wet and warm, fully engulfing him entirely.
“Go on.” you encourage, your tone strangely sweet that Jungkook does.
“I tried. I told you the relationship didn't work out.” Jungkook murmurs. “Every hookup, all I could think about was you.”
There it was, Jungkook thinks, the twinkle in your eyes as he speaks. He thinks his words are fueling your own ego. Your walls squeeze around the tip immediately as you enter it and Jungkook shudders.
“Tell me more.”
And Jungkook does. He says it all - how he resented you for making him feel that way. How even after years away from you, all he could think about was the way you made him feel. He tells you how he became unrecognizable to himself, someone he didn’t recognize when he looked in the mirror - and he blamed it all on you. Blaming it on someone made it easier for him to get through life, even if he knew that it made him as pathetic as you called him.
Your thighs cage Jungkook in as he speaks, your hips rising and falling. You go faster and faster with each admission, your eyes focusing on the way Jungkook’s flutter and his lips part to let out satisfied moans.
“What do you feel now, Kookie?” you couldn’t help but ask. Your hands settle onto his shoulders, nails digging into his skin without a care. Jungkook finds the stinging pain pleasurable.
It’s hard to speak with the way you were taking him, rising and falling onto his cock so well. Your breasts bounce in his face and it’s right here that Jungkook thinks he’s in heaven.
“I love fucking you.” Jungkook gasps, his hands grabbing your waist in an attempt to slow you down, but if anything it feeds you. You grind against his cock, groaning with how deep inside of you it is. “I love having you close to me again.”
“You sound-”
“Pathetic?” Jungkook answers for you with a whimper. “I know.”
Nothing about what Jungkook was going through - and what he’s openly admitting - was admirable. He was everything you told him he was. And, at the moment, he hadn’t cared. Instead, his focus was on the way your pussy squeezes around his cock so lovingly, sinking him into the pleasured abyss, his tip slamming against that sweet spot he’s grown to love.
“I love being around you.” Jungkook has to stop you himself by lifting you off of him. His breath quickens and for a moment, he squeezes his eyes shut. He didn’t want to cum - not yet.
“Too much?” you murmur, hovering above him. “Everytime you get sentimental, you act like you can’t handle it.”
“I can handle it just fine.” Jungkook retorts. “Maybe I just want to savor it.” he says.
Much to your dismay - partially - Jungkook flips the two of you. Your back hits the bed, but only a second goes by before he flips you once more, your chest pressed firmly against the bed.
“Knowing how you like to do things.” Jungkook retorts right behind you, and before you could snap back at him like he knows you would, his cock is entering you.
As if on instinct, your thighs part, needing to feel more of him inside of you. Your lips part and as hard as you try, you couldn’t help the moan that falls pass them.
“Never know when you’ll get up and run away.” Jungkook snaps his hips forwards, a hand falling right besides your head, the other onto your waist to keep you right where he needs you. “You’re good for that, you know?”
Jungkook starts at a steady pace, his eyes fluttering with how well you feel around his cock. He doesn’t get tired of this - of you.
“Fuck you.” you hiss just as your hands grip the sheets beneath you tightly.
Then, Jungkook’s pace quickens. Who was he not to give you what you were desperately asking of him? His cocks pumps into you deeply, his stamina never wavering. The sight of you alone has his heart racing. You look so beautiful beneath him, your back arched just a bit, your thighs pushed apart to allow more of him in. It was perfect.
“But those days are behind us, right? You won’t be running anymore.” Jungkook huffs, lowering himself to press a kiss against your back.
You bite the inside of your cheek harshly, your eyes fluttering. Jungkook always has this switch to him. One moment, you’d be in control of it all, then the next he was. It was a healthy contrast to his younger self who allowed you to do whatever. It reminds you now that he was indeed a man.
As much as Jungkook was torturing himself with pulling out right as he was about to cum, he’s torturing you just as much. You’re a trembling mess beneath him, only the tip still in your clenching hole. He’s only a bit smug with how fucked out you are right now, loving the way your body flinches and your pussy squeezes at him, wanting more.
“You look so pretty like this.” Jungkooks coos, allowing his cock to push deeper inside of you and on instinct, your hips buck. A straggled moan passes through your lips. “It’s so different to see you compliant.”
Your pussy is already so wet and with each stretch, a sloppy squelch dances through Jungkook’s ears. It’s something he’d never get tired of. He pushes the rest of his cock in, burying it to the hilt. Your back arches and your fingers are tightly fisted into the bedsheets. A part of you is grateful that Jungkook’s home is as cheap as your apartment. The walls aren’t as thin and behind the thick, mahogany door you couldn’t hear anything.
Witnessing the way your pussy takes all of him, Jungkook couldn’t help but licks his lips. Your body is so flushed, your thighs shaking and he cannot see your face, but he knows by now what you look like - glossy eyes and fucked out expression; his favorite.
“You tapping out?” Jungkook chuckles, thrusting out just to push back into you once more. He enjoys the sight of your ass slamming against him. “Can’t handle it?”
Jungkook isn’t slow in fucking you this time. He’s tortured you - and himself - enough. He doesn’t give you a chance to give him a snappy response, and instead beats you to it. Each thrust has your body crashing against the bed, a moan - sometimes a high-pitched squeal - following immediately after. He thinks how perfect you are beneath him - how much he doesn’t want this to end. Your pussy is so wet that it captivates him entirely, plunging in and out of you roughly as you beg him for more - deeper, harder, faster.
You don’t have anything catty to say to the man, nothing besides sobs of pleasures. Maybe Jungkook won this one, you think, but there'll be many more battles that you’ll overcome. Until then, you allow your hips to meet Jungkook’s thrusts. Your pussy spasms, arousal pooling down your thighs filthily.
“Theeere you go,” Jungkook groans. His left hand slides from your waist slowly, leaving goosebumps behind them. He stops at your neck and roughly grasps it and hoists you up against his chest. His pumps don't stop as his lips press against your ear. He nibbles on it teasingly before his tongue licks along it. “I know you can take it just fine, baby.”
From your neck, Jungkook’s hand softens as it glides down to your chest. He squeezes a breast into his palm possessively, all the way his tongue falls to your neck.
“Feel how wet you are.”
You do without hesitation - another part to Jungkook for how submissive you were being. You’re embarrassed by how right he is, your thighs coated with your own arousal. His cock pumps more out with each thrust. Your fingers twirl around your clit as your orgasm approaches closer. Your body falls limp against Jungkook’s.
Squeezing your breast again, Jungkook grumbles, “You aren’t going anywhere.”
Jungkook knows that no matter how demanding and monotonous he speaks, deep down, there’s the same pathetic teenage boy you remember. The same one who watched you from afar and wished, that even if once, you’d talk to him again. He needs to hear you say it, so he tells you to. “Say it.”
You let go, juices pulling onto your fingers as Jungkook sloppily thrusts forward - deeper and deeper, hitting that sweet spot so well.
“Say you’re not going to leave.” Jungkook nearly begs into your neck, his stomach forming into knots.
You do, the simple “I’m not going to leave you” that has his pathetic heart fluttering. At that moment is when Jungkook cums, spilling so much inside of you that it knocks him unconscious immediately afterwards.
Jungkook is groggy when he awakes. He isn’t sure what time it is or how long he’s been asleep for - and for a few seconds, he forgets what day it is. Then, nearly all at once, does he remember exactly what’s happened the day prior.
Jungkook also remembers you fucking him to sleep, so much so that he couldn’t do his nightly workout session.
Reaching out his arms, Jungkook feels his heart jolt at how empty the bed feels. His eyes attempt to adjust and when they do, he finds that he’s alone, the large bed holding no trace of you. At first, he doesn’t know what to think or how to react - then his mind jumps into multiple scenarios.
You left him - again. You fucked him to sleep and took the first moment you could to get the fuck out of there, taking Ji-tae with you. Of course, there’s only so far you could go, but it’s the first thought that comes to mind.
Then, however, Jungkook notices the faint smell of cinnamon. It eases his heart just a bit that he notices that his bedroom door is cracked just a bit.
Within 15 minutes, Jungkook is washed up and takes the long hallway down to the kitchen. He hears running water and when he rounds the corner, he sees you.
“Well you’re finally awake.” you say, glancing up from the plates you were scrubbing.
Jungkook takes a deep breath, watching you long enough that you look up at him and catch his eye.
“Rough night?” you’re teasing him. The smile that forms onto your lips is enough for him to know that.
Jungkook hums, deciding to enter the kitchen instead of lingering in the entry way. His eyes scan the scenery and inhale the cinnamon smell once more.
Jungkook swallows, feeling a fluttery sensation in his stomach.
You hadn’t left him, he thinks. Instead, you’re still here. You’re cleaning up what was cooked for breakfast, a meal he’s obviously missed, and you’re dressed for the day.
You hadn’t left him. You cooked. You’re still here. You’re teasing him.
“You made breakfast.” states Jungkook, deciding that if he didn’t come back to reality soon, he’d probably confuse you.
“Your plate’s in the microwave. Didn’t want to wake you.”
You woke before anyone, but you weren’t surprised when Ji-tae was the next person up. You had managed to drive home, grab more than a few items that he’d need to start his own day, before returning.
Jinah was the next one up. Her hair was a mess and at the sound of pancakes, she’s wide awake.
“Jinah’s with Ji-tae.” you say as you place a plate onto the drying rack. “I told him he could use your treadmill. He usually runs every morning.”
Jungkook’s eyes glanced around the kitchen once more. He supposed that explains items being out that he’s positive you wouldn’t use - like the chocolate flavor protein powder.
“Is that fine?”
Jungkook blinks back at you. Your eyes are on him, this time scrubbing a pan.
“Of course.” Jungkook responds coolly. “I hope Jinah isn’t annoying him,” he says. He goes towards the microwave and opens it to find the stack of pancakes - blueberry; Jinah’s favorite. “She grows attached quickly.”
You should know, Jungkook thinks, as she grew fond of you quicker than he expected.
You snicker. You have to admit that Ji-tae fits the role of the older brother perfectly and watching the two of them does something to your heart. It was him who cut her pancakes when she asked and at the sight of Ji-tae adding extra syrup to his pancakes, she insisted that she wanted the same.
“Tae’s fine.” you tell Jungkook. You’re rinsing the last pan. “She hasn’t left his side yet. They actually look so cute~”
Jungkook scarfs down the pancakes when you remember. The two of you remained in a comfortable silence in the kitchen as he ate. You make your way towards the island where your bag sits. You rummage through it.
“I went home while you were asleep. Grab some things for Tae.” you start. “Thought…you’d wanted these.”
Jungkook licks his lips. His eyebrows furrow a bit when you hold up a black album. Immediately Jungkook notices it’s a photo album
Jungkook’s eyes meet yours for a moment. You look…nervous?
Jungkook grabs the album from your hands. It’s black with a gold band outlining it.
“I know pictures can’t make up 13 years but…” you trail off. You can feel your heart in your chest now. Still, you’re unsure why you’re feeling this way. There weren’t anything but pictures throughout the years, and yet you feel as though you want the world to swallow you whole right now.
Jungkook opens the album, his eyes falling on the first picture. It’s of you - the you he remembers 13 years ago. You’re so young, he thinks, laying in the hospital bed sporting the gown. In your chest is a small infant, curled up. Your hands cradle him close and at the sight, Jungkook swallows thickly.
“My mom took that picture.” you murmur, glancing at the photo across from him. “He actually came a few weeks early. I was actually so relieved,” you snickered. “all he did was move and kick constantly.
Jungkook goes through the photo album, witnessing the way Ji-tae - and you - age. First birthdays, to first days of school. Award ceremonies at school, to his gymnastic meets - a sense of pride goes through Jungkook when he notices that Ji-tae was always first in everything.
The most recent picture in there is one of him this year, his final school picture before he’d be entering High School. He stares at the picture of the boy that’s so close to him now that shares the same dark eyes and smile.
You watch the way Jungkook’s eyes are nearly unblinking the entire time, flipping through the pictures. A few of them you explain - like Ji-tae participating in gymnastics, or the time he won so many awards at school that you treated him an entire day at the arcade, something you saved up for.
“Are you okay?” you couldn’t help but ask, causing Jungkook to blink a few times. He hadn’t talked much and now, all he had been doing was staring at the school picture in front of him.
“Is it…too much?”
You were afraid to hear what Jungkook had to say. A part of you feels bad for having him and Ji-tae find out the way they did. You understood the decision wasn’t only yours and in the end, it was Ji-tae that lost out on a paternal figure. The other part of you - the stubbornness that Jungkook knows all too well - doesn’t feel the same. Could you look at yourself the same if you knew Jungkook would have given up everything he worked hard for to stay with you?
You thought giving Jungkook an insight of what it was like, even if it was just a small fraction of it, would be a start. Now-
“You’re all he has.”
Jungkook’s words replay in your mind - over and over again.
“And he was all you had, too.” Jungkook murmurs. He closes the album and finally looks up at you. “I understand now why he thinks I’m taking advantage of you.”
“He doesn't think that anymore.” you protest, but Jungkook cuts you off.
“If looks could kill, Y/N, I would’ve been dead the first time he saw me.” Jungkook isn’t upset, you note. He’s understanding - now more than ever. “He’s just protective over you.”
You take a deep breath, nodding your head. “I know…” you exhale. “I don’t want him to be. I want him to be a regular teenager and not worry about anything. But that’s Tae for you.”
“Can I keep these?” Jungkook asks, gesturing to the pictures.
“Y-Yeah.” you nod. Your body warms up and you have to look away from Jungkook in order to feel cool again.
You hadn’t realized Jungkook had rounded the island until you felt him. A pair of arms wrap around your shoulders.
“Kook-”
“Thank you.”
Ji-tae feels like, in a short amount of time, he’s grown well of hiding around corners to listen in on you and Jungkook. He watches the way Jungkook wraps you into an embrace that has you shocked. The way he whispers “Thank you” to you, followed by a “I want us to be a family”.
Ji-tae listens in for a bit longer. He studies the way you couldn’t hold Jungkook’s gaze before you’re looking away from him nervously, but you find his kisses inviting. You tell him that you aren’t sure if it’s something he - Ji-tae - would want so soon. You don’t want to change everything he’s known overnight. “Whenever he’s ready.” was Jungkook’s response.
Ji-tae knows that he has to play it cool when Jinah’s feet paddle against the floor, coming closer and closer. When she reaches Ji-tae, her small hands grasp his and she says, “I found you!”
“You did.” Ji-tae hums, a low grin forming onto his lips. “I guess it’s my turn to count.”
“Lei,”
Lei looks up from her computer. She offers a kind smile.
“Mr. Park.” Lei stands, offering a head bow. “Welcome.”
Park Jimin offers the same smile her way, one that always has her stomach falling at how handsome he is.
“Is Mr. Jeon expecting you?” Lei asks.
“Not exactly.” Jimin giggles.
Behind Jimin stands a woman, her arms behind her back as she waits patiently for Jimin. Her hair is a golden brown and through the floor length windows behind her, it appears to glow. She’s model-like, Lei notes. Tall, slender, toned.
“Let me call him-”
Lei picks up the phone to dial her boss right on the top floor. Jungkook isn’t one to be stern, but he’s made it clear that he would need to be informed before anyone makes their way up.
“That won’t be necessary.” Jimin assures, placing a hand onto the desk. “I’ll give him a call on the way up, okay?”
Lei appears hesitant. She bites her lip, glancing between Jimin to the model-like woman behind him. She knows who he is. After being employed here for years, she’s well acquainted with those close to Mr. Jeon.
Jungkook and you have been nothing but unprofessional in his office. But you and he are on lunch break so it’s completely fine. You’re seated on his lap now, your once buttoned shirt now wide open for him. Your skirt is scrunched up at your hips. Your panties are soaked as they grind against his hardened cock.
Completely unprofessional for a boss and his assistant.
But it’s okay, because you’re also the mother of his son.
Jungkook’s tongue slurps and suckles against your hardened nipple, his thumb and index finger tugging at the other one. His right arm is wrapped around your waist, his palm directly against your ass, encouraging you to grind harder against him.
“I can get more work done around here if you’d stop trying to fuck me so much.”
But the way your hands grip at Jungkook's hair tells the true story. You didn’t want him to stop, and neither did he.
“Anyone would be happy to get paid to rub their pussy against me.” Jungkook retorts, popping your wet nipple from his lips.
Jungkook is right about that, but he also doesn’t have the chance to continue further due to the elevator sounding. He feels his head begin to hurt.
“How many times do I have to tell Lei?” he grumbles.
It takes you and Jungkook 2 minutes to get situated. It would’ve been faster if the man wasn’t hellbent on kissing you every few seconds, laughing against your lips while you attempted to button up your shirt.
Just as the elevator doors open, you’re already sitting at your desk.
Jungkook’s knowing smirk drops when he realizes who is behind the elevator doors.
“Well well,”
Your eyes follow the man that walks through, then at the woman behind him. Glancing at Jungkook, your eyebrows knit. He doesn’t look content in seeing either of them.
Jungkook stands from his seat. “What-”
“You’ve been ignoring all of my calls and texts.” the man tells Jungkook. “Hobi said he hasn’t heard from you, either.”
Jungkook takes a deep breath as he looks at a stern Park Jimin, one of his closest friends.
Seeing Jimin now wouldn’t be an issue, of course, if he hadn’t been avoiding him because of you and Ji-tae - mainly you.
Slowly, you and Jungkook were growing accustomed to being a family. It took two weeks for you to allow Ji-tae to occupy the spare room and make it his own. The first session with Namjoon was just a week ago, and tomorrow will be the second one.
Namjoon himself has been sworn into secrecy and had been speechless at the words Jungkook had told him over the phone. At times, he laughs at the look on Namjoon’s face when he comes to his home and actually see’s Ji-tae for the first time.
The events of last month had occupied Jungkook’s time to the point that he didn’t have time to answer Jimin’s blind date requests. He knew it was a matter of time before Jimin came to him himself.
“Mr. Jeon,” you say, standing at your desk and rounding it. Being professional with him is so out of the ordinary that it even surprises you. “should I get refreshments for you and your…guests?”
Jimin turns to you, allowing his eyes to trail the entirety of your body before meeting your eyes. “Hello.” he says, offering the same kind smile to you that he did to Lei. “I wasn’t aware you had an assistant now. My apologies.”
Jungkook watches the way Jimin holds out his hand for you to take. When you do, he presses a kiss to the back of your hand.
“Park Jimin,” the man says.
Jungkook watches the way your eyes flash with sudden realization. He licks his lips, his heart pounding in his chest.
“Park Jimin…” you hum back his name so sweetly that Jungkook knows it’s an act. Your eyes connect with his and you feel like it’s your lucky day. “...I’ve heard about you.”
Jimin snickers. “Have you?” he asks. “It’s a shame. My closest friend has kept me in the dark for months now.” he lets go of your hand and turns back to Jungkook. “So much so that I had to track him down myself.”
“Jimin,” Jungkook sighs. He didn’t have time for this now.
Jimin’s eyes trail along Jungkook’s desk, witnessing pictures of Jinah, the adorable little girl that has so much of Jungkook’s personality that sometimes he swears she was created in a lab. His eyes fall on another picture, one that has his eyes squinting.
Immediately, Jungkook notices where Jimin’s eyes are focused. It’s of Ji-tae and Jinah, a picture that has been taken recently by you. It’s become one of his favorite pictures with how excited the two of them look holding their own ice cream cones, double scooped with disgustingly good amounts of toppings and fudge on it that it drips down the cone entirely.
Before Jimin can question anything, Jungkook speaks. “Yes, refreshments would be nice.”
Jimin’s eyes snap upwards at Jungkook, before he turns back to you. Your heels click against the marble floor as you make your way towards the elevator.
“I didn’t get your name.” Jimin calls just as the elevator doors open.
“That’s right.” you smile, entering the elevator. “Y/N.” you tell him, pressing the button to the lobby. You had to say it was well worth it to watch the grin on Jimin’s lips falter almost immediately at the sound of your name.
so i wanted things to be wrapped up in 3 parts, but knowing me you guys will be waiting for another 6 months LMAO and i cannot have that
pairing: student! fem reader x student! jeon jungkook
summary: when you finally get your crush’s number, you expect the start of an epic love story— not a random guy making fun of you because he thinks the guy you’ve been obsessed with for the last six months gave you a fake number. Jeon Jungkook, the one who replies, finds it entertaining and helps you chase the guy… at least until he finds out that the person he’s been helping date another guy is you, the girl he’s been obsessed with for the last two years.
genre/warning: this is a smau fic!! with narration included in some chapter but it’s mostly messages/tweets. very unfunny jokes. this is mostly crack/fluff.
author’s note: don’t forget that the tweets have to be read from bottom to top. thank u guys for the wait i didn’t realize it’s been too long im sorry 😭 hope ure still reading this silly fic, lmk what u think of this chap<333
chapter index | previous — next
— chapter eight: home-wrecker era!
——————————
i made hobi more insane and yoongi lowkey is the real wingman hell yeaaa. ngl laughed a little with the first tweet because wth with everything that is happening here lowkey my timing couldn’t be so perfect 😭
summary: trying to steal the gold necklace around his neck, you didn’t realize that the man you were stealing from was a high-ranking police officer.
warnings: officer jungkook x thief reader, explicit sexual content, dead dove, cnc/dub-con, gun play, belt choking, usage of handcuffs, primal play, free use/rape, public sex, heavy degradation, manhandling, daddy, dom jk, clit rubbing, spitting, mock sympathy, condescending dirty talk, cum eating, pussy eating, blow job, usage whore & slut, praising, multiple orgasms, manipulation, rough sex, overstimulation, fingering, cum eating penetrative sex, creampie.
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Desperation has a way of rewriting your morals. It convinces good people to cross lines they once swore they would never touch, somehow making it feel like the only choice left.
"Let's check out the beer house tonight." Hanni said, wiggling her eyebrows as she leaned against the kitchen counter. "I heard it's packed with rich people on Fridays."
Your brows knitted together. "A beer house?"
A knowing smirk tugged at Hanni's lips. She swept 1her dark hair into a messy bun before pulling out the chair beside the table, giving the seat a light tap as she gestured for you to sit.
The moment you settled across from her, she propped her elbows on the table and leaned in…There was a familiar gleam in her eyes—the kind that only appeared whenever she had a new scheme brewing.
"It's one of the most popular beer houses in the city," she explained. "The drinks alone cost more than what we spend on groceries in a week. People who go there don't think twice before throwing money around, which means they're exactly the kind of people we're looking for."
You couldn't help but picture it.
Crowded tables, loud music and half-empty bottles scattered across polished wooden counters. Men laughing far too loudly, their faces flushed from alcohol, expensive watches gleaming beneath the dim lights while thick leather wallets bulged inside the pockets of tailored trousers.
You frowned, unease settling in your chest.
"I'm pretty sure it'll be full of drunk old men, Hanni." you rested your chin against your palm. “Doesn't that sound a little... dangerous?”
Hanni dismissed the concern with a careless wave of her hand.
"They'll be too wasted to notice us," she said with a shrug. "Besides, those are the guys with money. A few missing bills won't even cross their minds."
She leaned even closer, lowering her voice as though she were about to reveal the greatest secret in the world.
"Just give them a sweet smile," she said, the corners of her lips curling into something dangerously playful. "Make them think you've taken an interest in them. Laugh at their terrible jokes, let them believe they're charming..."
She snapped her fingers between the two of you. "And before they even realize what's happening, you've already walked away with their wallet—or better yet, their credit cards."
A life built on stolen fortunes, calculated manipulation, and carefully crafted deception.
The words no longer sting the way they used to. They've become as familiar as your own name, each one another thread woven into the person you've become. What once filled you with guilt now slips through your fingers as though it was never yours to carry.
Perhaps that's what desperation does.
It doesn't ask you to become someone else. It simply teaches you how to live with the stranger you've become.
Earlier that evening, you and Hanni gathered everything you had stolen throughout the month, laying each piece across the small wooden table between you.
"We only gathered six hundred dollars this month, Y/N... This won't be enough."
A phone, a handful of jewelry, two wallets, and a watch clattered against the worn wood before settling into a messy pile.
"This won't cover this month's rent..." she let out a weary sigh, her manicured nails tapping absentmindedly against the tabletop as she stared at the stolen valuables and the few crumpled bills scattered between them. "And we still have enrollment next month."
Your lips fell into a pout. "But the jewelry I stole is real gold."
You reached for the bracelet, turning it beneath the light. The polished links gleamed against your fingers.
Hanni only sighed again, the exhaustion in her expression deepening.
"It's low-karat gold, Y/N. And there's barely enough of it to be worth anything." she rubbed her temple before glancing at the rest of the pile. "If you manage to steal more next time, maybe we'll actually get something decent for it."
You looked back down at the bracelet, the weight of her words settling heavier than the gold resting in your palm.
You weren't born into wealth…from kindergarten until the day you graduated high school, scholarships carried you through your education. Without them, you doubted you would've made it that far.
College was different.
Moving out had seemed like the responsible decision at the time. Renting a small apartment near the university was cheaper than spending money on transportation every day between your hometown and campus, and you couldn't bring yourself to ask your parents for more than they were already giving.
So you packed your clothes into two worn-out bags, hugged your mother goodbye, listened to your father's endless reminders to eat properly, and promised them you would be fine.
Your father spent his days baking homemade bread before the sun had fully risen, while your mother worked quietly as a bookkeeper, carefully balancing numbers that never seemed to balance in your own household. Together, they earned just enough to keep food on the table and a roof over your heads.
Needs always came first.
Wants became something you learned to admire from a distance.
Yet, strangely enough, you never felt deprived.
Your home was small, tucked away in a quiet neighborhood where everybody knew everybody, but it was always filled with warmth.
While your classmates spoke about family vacations abroad, arrived at school carrying luxury handbags, and replaced perfectly good shoes simply because a newer pair had been released, you found comfort in simpler things.
The smell of freshly baked bread lingering in the kitchen before sunrise. The sound of your father humming while kneading dough. Your mother's gentle voice reminding you not to skip breakfast, even when she knew you were running late.
You loved that life.
More importantly, you loved the people who gave it to you.
Which was why, when college came, you couldn't bear the thought of asking them for more. Every dollar they handed you felt heavier than the last, weighted by sacrifices they never spoke about but could never hide.
You watched your father work longer hours. You noticed your mother's tired eyes after another day spent staring at ledgers and receipts. They never complained…not once—but love has a way of revealing exhaustion long before words ever do.
So you promised yourself that you would become lighter.
You moved out. You searched for part-time jobs. You told yourself that no matter how difficult life became, you would survive without asking your parents to carry you any farther.
You really believed honest work would be enough.
Finding a cheap apartment hadn't been easy, and if there was one stroke of luck you could still thank the universe for, it was meeting Hanni.
You found her through a post looking for a roommate. She needed someone to split the rent, and you needed somewhere you could actually afford.
The apartment sat only a few minutes away from the university, saving you the transportation costs you had spent countless nights calculating over and over again.
Hanni turned out to be easier to live with than you expected. She wasn't the type to spend recklessly or chase after things she didn't need. Like you, she stretched every dollar until there was nothing left to stretch.
For the first few months, you lived off your savings.
Each rent payment made the envelope thinner. Each grocery trip reminded you that numbers disappeared far quicker than they were earned. You searched for work every chance you got, walking into cafés, convenience stores, restaurants—any place with a "Now Hiring" sign taped to the window.
When a fast-food restaurant finally hired you as a server, you thought things were finally looking up.
You couldn't remember the last time you had been so relieved. The excitement, however, didn't last very long.
The paycheck barely reached your hands before it already belonged somewhere else. Half disappeared into rent. Another portion went to groceries, transportation, and the endless expenses college quietly demanded.
Scholarships covered your tuition, but not everything else. There were laboratory fees, books that professors insisted were mandatory, printed materials, projects, uniforms, and countless little payments that no one ever warned you about.
The money came in. It left even faster.
And no matter how carefully you budgeted every cent, by the end of each month, you always found yourself staring at the same conclusion.
It still wasn't enough.
Hanni, however, never seemed to struggle the way you did.
For reasons she never fully explained, she always had money tucked away somewhere. Not enough to live lavishly, but enough to ease the constant pressure that settled on your shoulders every time rent was due.
Naturally, you asked where all that money came from. Hanni would only shrug, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips as though the answer amused her.
"I have a lot of sidelines," she'd say, never bothering to explain any further.
It was vague enough to end the conversation, yet suspicious enough to keep your curiosity alive.
Eventually, you stopped asking…but you never stopped noticing.
One afternoon she'd come home carrying the newest phone model, casually placing it on the kitchen counter while she searched the refrigerator for something to eat.
The following day, it would already be gone.
Sometimes it was a watch. Other times it was a gold necklace or a designer wallet. The items constantly changed, disappearing almost as quickly as they appeared, but you never questioned her.
It wasn't until the two of you had grown close enough that she finally trusted you with the truth.
You remembered expecting disgust to settle in your stomach the moment she confessed. Instead, all you felt was curiosity.
Hanni told her story so casually, as though she were recalling an ordinary childhood memory instead of admitting to a crime.
She learned how to steal when she was still a little girl. Whenever she picked up a toy at a store or tore open a packet of snacks while trailing beside her mother, no one questioned her. People rarely suspected children, and Hanni learned that long before she understood the weight of what she was doing.
What started as childish curiosity slowly became instinct. Instinct became skill, skill became confidence, and confidence eventually became survival.
By the time she reached adulthood, stealing was no longer something she occasionally did—it was simply how she made a living.
She wasn't born into comfort either. Her family had struggled just as much as yours, if not more, and perhaps that was why you found it difficult to judge her.
You knew what it felt like to lie awake at night wondering how another month would pass.
You knew what desperation looked like because you had seen it reflected in your parents' exhausted smiles, hidden behind reassuring words they never truly meant. Maybe that was why her confession never horrified you.
Desperation has a peculiar way of changing people.
Because somewhere deep inside, in a place you refused to acknowledge, you understood exactly why she had chosen this path.
"You should blend in. Don't wear those ridiculous jackets or black caps." Hanni chuckled, uncapping the marker in her hand before turning to the small whiteboard hanging beside the refrigerator.
She drew little stick figures and arrows as if she were giving a university lecture instead of teaching you how to commit crimes. There were circles around the words confidence, timing, and exit, each one underlined twice before she tapped the marker against the board.
It sounded embarrassingly simple…but it wasn’t.
Your first theft had been nothing more than a granola bar from a convenience store, yet your hands had trembled so violently you almost dropped it before reaching the exit. Your heart pounded against your ribs with enough force to convince you everyone around could hear it.
Every customer who glanced in your direction felt like security in disguise, every beep from the cashier sounded like an alarm, and by the time the automatic doors slid open behind you, your palms were slick with sweat around the tiny snack bar you had risked so much to steal.
Hanni, meanwhile…walked out carrying a bottle of wine, two bags of cheetos, and three packs of mini m&m's tucked somewhere beneath her oversized cardigan. She looked utterly unbothered, stopping only to ask whether you wanted to eat at the nearby park before either of you went home.
You remembered staring at her with your mouth slightly open, unable to understand how someone could steal so much and still have the composure to worry about dinner.
She only laughed. "It gets easier."
You hated how right she was.
Over the following weeks, your trembling hands gradually learned to stay still. You learned that people rarely questioned someone who acted like they belonged.
Confidence, Hanni often said, was the greatest disguise anyone could wear, and manipulation was nothing more than convincing people to believe the version of you that benefited them most.
You practiced smiling at strangers. You practiced maintaining eye contact. You practiced walking away without looking back.
Little by little, it became easier to silence the guilt.
Two months later, you could finally say you were improving. Your movements were steadier, your excuses more believable, your lies smoother than they had ever been before.
Even so, whenever you compared yourself to Hanni, you still felt like an amateur watching a professional at work. She stole with an ease you doubted you would ever possess.
"Hanni, I'm not good at seducing people... you know that." you let out a groan, dropping your forehead onto the table with a dull thud.
For all the confidence you had slowly learned to fake while stealing, anything involving men was an entirely different story.
You have no experience.
Your thefts still involved people, but you always kept your distance…especially from men. You waited for moments of carelessness, slipping valuables from unattended bags, distracted shoppers, or pockets left carelessly exposed before disappearing into the crowd.
It was safer that way. The rewards were smaller, perhaps, but it meant you never had to charm, distract, or make someone lower their guard just to steal from them.
After all, you were still an amateur.
Romance had always seemed like a luxury you couldn't afford.
While your classmates spent their weekends going on dates or gossiping about their newest crushes, you spent yours calculating expenses and wondering whether instant noodles could count as dinner for the fourth night in a row.
Hanni had pointed it out countless times before.
According to her, manipulating people wasn't always about lying.
With men, it was about making them believe they had a chance with you.
The problem was…you had no idea how to do that.
You didn't know how to flirt, how to bat your eyelashes, or how to laugh at someone's terrible jokes without making it painfully obvious you were pretending. The thought alone made your stomach twist into nervous knots.
Hanni rolled her eyes, dismissing every excuse before you even had the chance to finish making one.
"Oh, stop it." she waved a hand dramatically. "You're very pretty, Y/N. Don't give me that bullshit! Just smile at them…one cute little smile and I guarantee they'll be tripping over themselves to impress you."
You buried your face deeper into your arms."But, Hanni—"
"No buts." she sprang to her feet before you could protest again, practically skipping toward her bedroom. A moment later, she returned with two shopping bags swinging from her hands, the grin on her face growing impossibly wider.
"Besides, I already bought us dresses for tonight." she giggled.
Oh, you were doomed.
"This is so short," you complained, tugging at the hem of the black spaghetti-strap dress for what had to be the tenth time. Every time you managed to pull it down another inch, it simply rode back up the moment you took another step, as though the fabric itself was determined to embarrass you.
Hanni had insisted on doing everything herself. Your hair fell in loose, natural waves over your shoulders, soft enough to hide the nervous rise and fall of your breathing. She had done your makeup too, dusting the slightest touch of glitter across your eyelids that shimmered every time the streetlights caught your face.
Even before you reached your destination, your feet were already protesting against the thin, strappy heels wrapped around your ankles, each step reminding you that beauty demanded sacrifices you had never volunteered to make.
Hanni glanced at you before letting out an amused laugh. "I can't see your panties from here, so you're fine."
You shot her an unamused look, earning another laugh from her.
Unlike you, Hanni looked completely at ease.
Her dark green off-the-shoulder dress hugged her figure effortlessly, paired with matching heels that clicked confidently against the pavement. Her hair was swept into a messy updo that somehow looked intentionally elegant rather than rushed, and with the confidence she carried herself, no one would ever guess that the two of you struggled to pay rent every month.
Together, you looked exactly like the kind of girls who had never worried about money a day in their lives.
Which was almost funny.
Because hidden beneath expensive-looking dresses and carefully applied makeup were two women desperately hoping to walk away with someone else's wallet, watch, jewelry—or anything valuable enough to buy another month of survival.
"Okay, let's order a drink first and look around," Hanni said, her voice barely audible beneath the chatter spilling out from inside the beer house as she pushed the heavy wooden door open.
You followed closely behind, your heartbeat already beginning to pick up.
You had spent the entire walk convincing yourself that the place would be filled with loud, drunken old men slumped over tables, too intoxicated to notice a missing wallet or an expensive watch. Instead, your expectations dissolved the moment your eyes adjusted to the dim amber lights.
The place was crowded…not just with old men, but with all kinds of people. Groups of friends occupied long wooden tables, raising glasses every time the football match playing on the massive television reached an exciting moment. Couples sat tucked away in quieter corners, talking over bottles of beer, while businessmen who looked as though they had come straight from the office loosened their ties and laughed with colleagues over overflowing pitchers.
Your gaze drifted toward the long wooden bar stretching across one side of the room, shelves behind it neatly lined with bottles you had only ever seen locked behind glass displays. The smell of grilled meat and fried food lingered in the air, mixing with the bitter scent of beer, while a small band adjusted their instruments on the stage, preparing for the night ahead.
You quietly took a deep breath, trying to calm the nervous flutter building inside your chest.
You had been stealing for two months now, yet every new place made you feel like it was your first all over again. The fear of getting caught never truly disappeared—it only learned how to hide beneath your smile.
Hanni walked through the crowd without a hint of hesitation, weaving between tables before claiming two empty seats near the stage. When the server approached, she greeted him with an easy smile, the kind that belonged to someone who had come for nothing more than a quiet drink after a long week.
"Two draft beers, please."
The server nodded before disappearing toward the counter.
Hanni waited until he was out of earshot before her eyes swept across the room once more, lingering only for a second before the corner of her lips slowly lifted.
"I found your table." Hanni raised a brow, the corner of her lips curling into a knowing smile.
You pouted, instinctively following her gaze as your eyes wandered across the crowded beer house. Round wooden tables filled nearly every corner, occupied by groups of men laughing over clinking bottles, scattered glasses, and the remnants of another round.
Of course she'd choose men. You had long grown used to Hanni's reasoning.
Men were easier to distract…and according to her, far easier to manipulate than women.
"Which one?" you asked, squinting as you searched through the sea of unfamiliar faces.
Hanni let out a quiet laugh before leaning closer, her perfume briefly overpowering the scent of beer lingering in the air. "The third table near the bar," she whispered, careful not to draw attention. "They look a little older than us. Not too old, though."
She grinned mischievously. "I'd say they're giving daddy vibes."
You frowned at her. “Ugh, Hanni!”
Slowly, your gaze followed the direction she had subtly pointed, finally landing on the group she had been watching.
There were seven of them gathered around one of the larger tables, completely absorbed in their own conversation. They couldn't have been much older than Hanni had guessed, perhaps somewhere in their late twenties or early thirties.
Dressed in simple shirts, rugged jeans, and jackets carelessly draped over the backs of their chairs, they looked more like friends unwinding after a long week than the wealthy businessmen you had imagined on your walk there.
At first glance, there was nothing remarkable about them. Yet the longer you watched, the easier it became to notice the details.
A watch that caught the light every time one of them lifted his beer. A phone left face-up beside an overflowing ashtray without a second thought. Car keys, wallets, and cigarette packs lay scattered across the wooden table between bottles of beer and half-finished baskets of bar snacks, abandoned in the comfort of good company.
They laughed loudly, occasionally teasing one another, while wisps of cigarette smoke curled lazily into the air above them. They were so engrossed in their own little world that they never once looked your way.
"What do you think?" Hanni asked, her eyes never leaving the group near the bar."I say you target that table while I take the one near the door."
Your gaze lingered on the men for another moment before dropping to the table between you. Almost as if on cue, the server returned with your drinks, carefully placing two glasses of draft beer in front of you. Tiny bubbles rushed to the surface beneath a thick layer of foam, the chilled glass immediately collecting beads of condensation.
Hanni thanked him with a smile before wrapping her fingers around her glass. She looked... excited. There was always a certain spark in her eyes before a job, one you had grown familiar with over the past two months.
While your stomach twisted itself into knots, hers seemed to settle. The closer she came to danger, the calmer she became.
Your fingers traced the condensation gathering around your own glass as you quietly stared into the golden beer. The thought of walking up to a table full of strangers, pretending to be interested in one of them, was enough to make your stomach tighten.
You had spent the last two months learning how to steal, how to lie without stumbling over your words, how to smile convincingly enough for people to lower their guard.
But flirting? That was something entirely different.
Still...
You glanced down at the dress hugging your figure before absentmindedly smoothing the fabric over your thighs. Hanni had spent her own money buying it for you. She had curled your hair, done your makeup, and patiently convinced you that you looked like you belonged in a place like this. She had done everything she could to make tonight successful.
The least you could do was try.
The numbers flashed through your mind before you could stop them, reminding you how little time you had left before another payment was due.
You drew in a slow breath before finally looking back at Hanni, offering her a small smile that carried far more determination than confidence.
"Alright," you said with determination. "I promise I'll do my best."
Her face immediately brightened. "That's my girl!"
She lifted her glass toward yours with a grin so wide it was almost contagious.
"Cheers to that, baby."
The soft clink echoed between you, disappearing almost instantly beneath the laughter, music, and the constant hum of conversations filling the beer house.
Easy…smile, flirt and steal.
After a couple of minutes spent nursing your drinks and quietly familiarizing yourselves with the beer house, Hanni caught your eye from across the table. She gave the slightest nod—a silent signal the two of you had long grown accustomed to.
It was time.
You rose from your seat, smoothing the wrinkles from your dress before letting your fingers comb through your hair, tucking a few loose strands behind your ear. Hanni disappeared into the crowd without another word, already making her way toward her own target, while you headed in the opposite direction, forcing yourself to wear the kind of smile she had spent weeks teaching you. Soft enough to seem approachable…confident enough to belong.
The barstool closest to their table sat empty.
You slipped onto it, offering the bartender a polite smile as he passed by before pretending to study the rows of bottles displayed behind the counter. From the corner of your eye, your attention never truly left the table behind you.
Your heartbeat steadied, not because you were any less nervous…but because your mind had finally begun doing what Hanni had trained it to do.
Observe.
A few wallets lay carelessly on the wooden table, abandoned without a second thought by men too engrossed in conversation to notice their surroundings. Your fingers twitched ever so slightly.
Tonight, maybe two wallets would be enough. Any more than that would only invite unnecessary attention.
Your gaze lingered for another second before drifting higher, carefully studying each of the men one by one.
If you were going to approach someone tonight, it couldn't be just anyone. You needed the one who looked the wealthiest, the one whose watch alone could cover next month's rent, whose jewelry might be worth more than everything you and Hanni had managed to steal over the past few months combined.
You couldn't flirt with all of them. So if you were going to take the risk, you might as well choose the wealthiest one.
Your eyes drifted from one man to another, careful not to linger for too long.
One wore a pair of silver earrings that matched the chain resting against his chest. Another—the one with dimples that appeared every time he laughed—had an elegant silver watch wrapped around his wrist, the polished metal glimmering beneath the warm lights whenever he reached for his beer. The man beside him looked much simpler, dressed in an ordinary black shirt without a single piece of jewelry to catch your attention, and you dismissed him almost immediately.
You kept looking.
Until your gaze landed on a tattooed hand lazily wrapped around the neck of a beer bottle.
Silver rings adorned nearly every finger, each one different from the next, and just above them rested a watch that looked far too expensive to belong in your world. Your eyes followed the slow movement of his hand as he lifted the bottle to his lips, only to notice the gold chain disappearing beneath the collar of his dark shirt.
His ear was adorned with several silver earrings, each one catching the amber light whenever he turned toward one of his friends. When he tilted his head back for another sip, the small silver ring through his lower lip glinted just as brightly.
Then your gaze wandered lower…a pair of Porsche keys hung carelessly from the belt loop of his black jeans, swinging gently whenever he shifted in his seat as though they were nothing more than an ordinary keychain.
You quietly looked away before he could catch you staring, your heartbeat quickening as your fingers curled around the wooden counter.
Target locked.
You immediately order a shot of tequila, not to get drunk, but to act drunk.
Hanni had told you that people lowered their guard around someone who seemed tipsy. A little laugh that lingered too long, a gaze that wandered a little too often, movements just clumsy enough to look believable. It made approaching strangers easier.
You thanked the bartender with a polite smile before resting your elbow against the counter. From the corner of your eye, your attention drifted back to the table.
His back was mostly facing you, making it difficult to study him without being obvious. Every now and then he'd turn toward one of his friends, giving you a brief glimpse of his side profile before looking away again, and somehow those fleeting seconds were enough for you to notice far more than you intended.
His jaw was clean and sharply defined, catching the amber glow whenever he tipped his head back to drink. A straight nose balanced his features effortlessly, while soft strands of dark hair fell across his forehead, shifting every time he ran a hand through them. Every so often, you caught sight of his dark round eyes, softened by the alcohol he'd been drinking, their usual alertness replaced by a lazy heaviness that made them unexpectedly... pretty.
Your brows knitted together.
You were supposed to be memorizing his belongings Y/N! Not his face!
The bartender slid your tequila across the counter. You murmured a quiet thank you before lifting the glass to your lips, taking only a small sip. The burn barely had time to settle in your throat before your eyes sneakily wandered back toward the table.
"Huh?"
His seat was empty!
Your brows furrowed as your eyes searched the group, confusion replacing the confidence you had spent the last several minutes trying so hard to build.
"Looking for me?” a deep chuckle sounded from behind you.
Your eyes widened, you turned so quickly you nearly knocked your drink over.
Even with you sitting down, he towered over you with ease, one side of his body leaning casually against the polished wooden counter. Up close, the details you had only managed to steal glances of moments ago became impossible to ignore—the silver rings decorating his fingers, the tattoos stretching over his right arm, the small hoop piercing his lower lip, and those heavy-lidded eyes now looking directly into yours.
The corner of his mouth curled upward…amused.
As though he'd caught you doing something you weren't supposed to.
"H-Hi!" you greeted, your voice coming out much smaller than you intended as you struggled to hide how badly he had startled you.
What the fuck.
For a split second, every lesson Hanni had drilled into your head disappeared. Your carefully rehearsed smile, your excuses, the confident persona you had spent two months trying to build—they all vanished the moment he caught you off guard.
He raised a brow, the corner of his mouth lifting ever so slightly.
"May I help you?"
Your own brows drew together before you could stop them, your smile faltering for the briefest moment.
"Hm?"
"You kept looking at me." he chuckled, low and amused.
There wasn't even a hint of uncertainty in his voice, as though he'd caught you staring several times already and had simply decided to humor you instead of calling you out for it.
Heat rushed to your cheeks almost instantly, your mind scrambling for something—anything…that would keep your act from falling apart before it had even begun.
Trying to save yourself, you immediately gave him a flirty smile.
"Oh..." a soft giggle escaped your lips, "Was I that obvious?"
You tilted your head ever so slightly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before looking back up at him through your lashes exactly the way Hanni had told you to.
When he took a step closer, your breath hitched.
His thick black boots brushed against the legs of your stool, and with the way he positioned himself, his broad frame nearly shielded you from the rest of the room. It wasn't intentional…or maybe it was—but suddenly the chatter of the beer house seemed much farther away than it had a second ago.
"Uh-huh," he murmured, the single sound barely above a whisper.
The faint scent of mint lingered beneath the beer on his breath, close enough to make your thoughts blur for a moment. Up close, the gold chain resting against his collarbone shimmered softly, layered alongside several silver necklaces that framed the base of his neck.
Before your courage had the chance to abandon you…you slowly lifted a hand and rested it around the back of his neck, your fingertips grazing the cool metal chains lying against his skin.
"You're cute," you whispered, biting lightly on your lower lip as your fingers idly toyed with one of the necklaces. Every movement had been rehearsed in your head a dozen times before tonight, yet none of them felt natural now that they were happening. You only hoped he couldn't tell.
Fuck, he’s so handsome up close!
His head tilted slightly, curiosity flickering across his face before his gaze slowly drifted downward. It lingered far longer than you were prepared for, tracing the exposed skin above your dress before continuing lower. Instinctively, you fought the urge to tug at the hem that had ridden higher on your thighs.
Don't. Fake it until you make it.
"I am?" he asked, the corner of his mouth lifting into the faintest smirk. His tongue swept across the silver ring piercing his lower lip before he leaned even closer, his lips hovering just beneath your ear.
"Yeah," you breathed, forcing confidence into your voice despite the frantic beating of your heart. "Want you."
The words felt foreign leaving your mouth. Still, they had the desired effect.
As his attention remained fixed on the spot where your pulse fluttered, your fingers subtly found the clasp hidden beneath the chains around his neck.
One careful movement...that was all it would take.
You had barely begun to unhook it when his hand closed firmly around your wrist.
Your heart stopped. For one horrifying second, you were certain he'd caught you.
"Let's go to my car."
What?
"H-Huh? I..."
He lifted his head just enough for your eyes to meet his. The lazy amusement from earlier had disappeared, replaced by something darker.
"I can't fuck you here."
Your eyes widen, fucking was your limit!
Your gaze drifted to the thick gold necklace resting against his chest... the leather wallet tucked carelessly into his pocket... and the sleek black car waiting only a few steps away.
Fuck it.
You followed him in silence, the cool night breeze brushing against your exposed skin and reminding you just how short your dress was.
Your gaze remained fixed on his broad back as he unlocked the car, your throat tightening around a nervous swallow.
Earlier, when you had walked past Hanni, you had nearly burst into tears at the sight of her giving you an approving nod, silently cheering you on while she remained at her table, busy charming the men around her.
You couldn't back out now. Not after she'd placed this much faith in you.
The parking lot was quiet, a little farther from the beer house…the music fading into the distance. When he turned around, you gathered every ounce of courage you had left and greeted him with the sweetest smile you could muster.
Your mind raced, thoughts crashing into one another until only three remained.
First, find a way to slip the gold chain from around his neck. The wallet would come next, once he finally let his guard down.
Second, you were not going to fuck him.
It didn't matter how broad his shoulders were, how unfairly handsome he looked, or how pretty his eyes became whenever he smiled.
Your hormones could cry about it later.
Third, whatever happened tonight... for the love of God, do not get caught.
He looked down at you, one brow lifting ever so slightly when he noticed the faint tremble in your legs.
"Get in."
He pulled the backseat door open for you, and you offered him a small, flirty smile before carefully slipping inside.
The leather seat gave beneath your weight with a quiet creak, and for the briefest moment, you convinced yourself you'd have a second to steady your breathing, to gather the scattered pieces of your thoughts before facing him again.
The hope didn't last.
The car shifted as he climbed in after you, the door clicking shut behind him with a soft, final sound that seemed to swallow the last bit of space inside the cabin.
Your pulse faltered, the hem of your dress had ridden higher than you'd intended, exposing far more of your thighs than you were comfortable with, the fabric inching dangerously close to revealing the lace of your panties. Every instinct urged you to smooth it back into place, but you stopped yourself.
Focus, Y/N! You need to seduce him!
You had barely opened your mouth, ready to deliver one of the corniest pickup lines Hanni had relentlessly drilled into your head, when his hand suddenly pulled your hair.
Your lips parted in surprise as he tugged you toward him, leaving no room for hesitation before his lips crashed against yours.
A breathless whimper escaped you, your eyes widening for only a second before they fluttered shut. His fingers tightened around the hair above your nape, angling your head exactly how he wanted it, his kisses deep, hungry, and impatient.
The bitter trace of beer lingered on his tongue, flooding your senses until your thoughts blurred at the edges. Your body yielded without resistance, melting effortlessly against his as he drew you closer, the strength behind the movement making you feel almost weightless in his hold.
For a fleeting moment, you forgot your mission.
His tongue slipped against yours with practiced ease, stealing every coherent thought from your mind before instinct finally caught up.
You slowly lifted your arms around his neck, your fingers threading through the softness of his hair as though simply indulging in the kiss. Then, careful not to rush…they drifted lower, brushing over the warm skin of his nape before gliding toward the necklace resting against his neck.
“Open your mouth wider,” he rasped, pulling away just enough to speak. A string of saliva stretched between your mouths as his other hand slid around your neck…his long, tattooed fingers wrapping firmly around your throat in a possessive grip.
Your eyes widened…one of your hands remained tangled behind his nape, your fingers still toying with the chain around his neck, desperately searching for the tiny clasp hidden beneath his hair.
Too distracted to obey his request… he suddenly tugged your hair harder.
A startled gasp escaped your lips, and he seized the opportunity—his tongue slipping hot and messy into your parted mouth, kissing you with a hunger that left you no chance to catch your breath.
You barely kissed him back, surrendering to the pace he set as your mind gradually emptied. Somehow, through the dizziness clouding your head, your fingertips continued their quiet search along the cool metal resting against his skin, praying to find the clasp before he noticed.
“Mmph!”
A soft whimper caught in your throat when he bit down harshly on your lower lip. The hand around your neck tightened, his fingers pressing deeper into your throat until your breath hitched, the pressure almost choking you.
“What are you doing?” he groaned, pulling you away from his lips before effortlessly lifting your entire body onto his lap.
Large hands settled on your hips, guiding your legs to either side of him until you were straddling him completely, your dress riding embarrassingly higher over your thighs in the process.
“Hmm?” you murmured, blinking up at him through hazy eyes, your lips swollen and glistening from his relentless kisses.
He tilted his head, studying you in silence.
The intensity of his gaze made something tighten inside your chest. Your confidence, already hanging by a thread, began to unravel beneath his eyes alone, and without thinking, your hands abandoned the necklace altogether, drifting back into his hair as though that had been your intention from the very beginning.
“Kiss me back,” he rasped.
A quiet breath of relief nearly escaped your lips. He hadn't noticed.
You offered him the sweetest smile you could manage before leaning in again, your heart pounding so violently you were certain he could feel it through your chest. You kissed him as carefully as you could, trying to mimic the way he'd kissed you only moments ago, parting his lips with hesitant eagerness, hoping it looked natural enough to fool him.
To your surprise, he let you…he didn't take control or deepen the kiss. Instead, he simply let you explore him at your own pace.
Heat crept up your neck and settled across your cheeks, embarrassment blooming beneath your skin as the realization slowly dawned on you.
He wasn't following your lead.
“Baby...” he chuckled between kisses, his tattooed hand sliding up to cradle your jaw, holding your face steady with a firm grip. “You're not kissing me properly.”
Embarrassment rushed through your body so quickly it almost made you dizzy, your inexperience laid bare after only a few clumsy kisses.
Determination quickly swallowed the humiliation.
Before you could think twice, you leaned in again, kissing him with far more urgency than before, desperate to prove that you knew exactly what you were doing.
The moment he finally kissed you back, a breathless whimper nearly escaped you.
He kissed you effortlessly, guiding the rhythm while you struggled to keep up, your breaths already turning shallow enough that you were certain you looked seconds away from hyperventilating.
Determined not to lose yourself completely, you bit down on his lower lip, earning a low, gravelly groan that vibrated against your mouth. The sound alone made your stomach flutter. Taking advantage of the distraction, your trembling hands drifted back to the chain around his neck, fingertips carefully searching beneath his hair for the tiny clasp.
Your eyes fluttered shut when he sucked on your tongue, warmth rushing across your ears and down your neck so quickly it almost burned. It was your first time being kissed like this—his kisses were shamelessly lewd, all heat and desperation. Saliva glistened between your mouths whenever he pulled away, only to capture your lower lip again with another lingering suck that stole the air from your lungs.
Before long, the only sounds filling the car were the quiet, wet presses of your mouths and the uneven rhythm of your breathing.
You couldn't tell whether he was simply that good at kissing or if your lack of experience made every touch feel overwhelming. Either way, the way his hand remained wrapped around your jaw, firmly angling your head exactly where he wanted it, sent a shiver running down your spine.
A soft, helpless moan escaped your lips when you felt him spit into your mouth without breaking the kiss. The sensation sent heat unfurling through every inch of your body, your knees threatening to weaken even from where you sat on his lap.
Your thoughts dissolved into a haze, and before you realized it, the fingers that had been so carefully searching for the clasp of his necklace had gone slack, your mission slipping further out of reach with every slow, lingering pull of his mouth.
“Grind on me.” he groaned.
Your eyes widened, before you could even process his words, both of his hands settled around the curve of your hips, guiding your body into a slow, deliberate roll against his lap.
“W-Wait—”
His mouth found your neck, scattering soft, lingering kisses along the sensitive skin. Goosebumps rippled across your body as his lips traveled lower, his grip never once leaving your hips as he slowly rocked them back and forth, drawing helpless whimpers from your lips.
Heat rushed to your cheeks the moment you felt the firm outline of his hard cock pressing against the thin fabric of your panties.
“Roll your hips, baby.” he grunted.
His teeth grazed your neck before his tongue soothed the sting, the cool metal of his lip piercing dragging lightly over your throat.
Your eyes squeezed shut…losing yourself completely as you followed the guidance of his hands, the subtle throbs of his cock impossible to ignore through the layers separating your bodies.
“That’s it,” he praised, looking down at your rolling hips.
“Oh, gosh…” you moaned.
You couldn't comprehend how dirty and lewd this was, grinding against a stranger's cock while convincing yourself that you wouldn't fuck him.
His clothed mushroom tip grazed the apex between your thighs as he guided your hips through another slow rub, drawing a startled gasp from your lips. A wave of warmth unfurled low in your stomach, spreading until it settled heavily between your legs.
Fuck, you were getting so wet.
Your body burned with a growing tension you didn't know how to quiet. The fabric of your panties clung uncomfortably against your cunt. When his hands finally cupped your breasts over the thin fabric of your dress, a shaky breath caught in your throat.
Your fingers instinctively clutched at his shoulders for balance as he continued to maneuver your body with effortless ease.
“Oh my-”
His lips trailed lower…you sucked in a sharp breath when they reached the swell of your cleavage, your heart stumbling the moment you caught sight of his tongue slipping between the soft curve of your breasts, tasting the narrow valley created by the tight fabric hugging your chest.
“Hmm... so soft,” he murmured.
Before you could even process the praise, he leaned back just enough to gather saliva in his mouth, his cheeks hollowing before he leaned down and let a warm bead of spit fall between your breasts. It slowly trailed down the center of your cleavage, disappearing beneath the neckline of your dress.
A startled gasp escaped you, the shamelessness of it sent another rush of heat coursing through your body.
“Spread my spit, baby.” his voice dropped into a teasing murmur as he brushed a lingering kiss against your cheek. “I want you messy.”
He never stopped guiding your hips, slow, patient rubs against his lap while he watched you expectantly.
You swallowed thickly. It felt as though your body had slipped into a trance, your thoughts muffled beneath the haze he'd wrapped around you.
Almost absentmindedly, your fingers found the warmth between your breasts, gathering the wetness before slowly spreading his spit across the soft skin of your cleavage, his dark, heavy-lidded eyes following every hesitant movement.
Your gaze drifted downward, landing on the gold chain resting against his collarbone.
The necklace!
For a split second, you wanted to slap yourself.
You'd become so hopelessly lost in him that you'd nearly forgotten why you were here in the first place.
Trying to keep up the act, you smiled and gathered the warm trace of his spit onto your fingertips before slowly bringing them to your lips. A flicker of nervousness stirred in your chest as you parted your lips, letting your tongue glide languidly over your damp fingers, never once breaking eye contact with him.
His lips parted. “You like it?”
You nodded. “Hmm…”
“Want more?” he cooed, his voice rough with satisfaction.
Your cheeks heated, a little self-conscious under the way he stared at you before leaning in to kiss you again. You whimpered when he spat into your mouth while kissing you, trying to focus as your hands finally found the chain around his neck. Your fingers worked quickly beneath the curtain of his hair, your heart pounding so violently you feared he would hear it.
Then—the clasp gave.
Relief crashed over you.
You carefully eased the necklace free, letting the chain slip from your fingers onto the leather seat beside you with a faint clink before your hands returned to brace against his chest.
Your pulse hammered in your throat, so distracted by stealing the jewelry that you didn't feel his fingers hooking beneath the thin straps of your black dress until they were already sliding down. Cool air kissed your skin a second before you realized the straps had fallen from your shoulders, the dress bunched at your waist, your bra laid bare beneath his dark, hungry stare.
"Ohh—" a moan ripped from your lips when his hands grabbed your tits through the bra, his palms kneading the soft flesh as his fingers pinched and rolled your stiff nipples through the thin lace.
"So pretty," he praised, his eyes never leaving the swell of your breasts spilling over the cups.
His hand slid behind your back, his fingers flicking the clasp open. Your bra sprang loose, your tits bouncing free, your nipples peaked and aching.
“Keep grinding, baby.” he rasped.
Your hips moved before your brain could catch up, rolling against his lap. His hard cock formed a thick ridge beneath his pants, pressing right against your soaked panties.
The delicious friction made your cunt leak, slick pooling in the gusset as each slow roll of your hips rubbed your clit across his length until your panties clung to your wet, chubby slit.
“Mhm,” you whined as his mouth locked onto one nipple, his tongue lapping at the bud before sucking hard, his teeth scraping lightly while his other hand squeezed your breast, his fingers twisting the neglected nipple until it throbbed.
Wet sounds filled the car—the slurp of his mouth around your nipple and the squelch of your dripping cunt rubbing against his cock through the fabric.
You forced yourself to look down, your heavy-lidded eyes searching for anything that might help you finish what you had come here to do. Then your thigh brushed against the square outline beneath the fabric of his pants.
His wallet.
You drew in a shaky breath before rolling your hips against him with a little more desperation. A low groan vibrated against your nipple the moment he felt the change in your rhythm, the sound sending another wave of heat through your body.
A helpless whine slipped from your lips as your own hands wandered over him, trying to appear just as consumed by the moment. Your palms skimmed over his shoulders, down the firm planes of his chest, and lower still, making you swallow hard at the realization of just how toned he felt beneath your touch.
“Ouch,” you whimpered when his teeth suddenly bit into your nipple.
He only chuckled against your skin.
The sting disappeared beneath a lingering kiss before he lifted his head just enough to murmur.
“Slow down, baby. You're gonna make me cum.”
The teasing words had barely left his lips before his attention shifted back to your breast, his mouth closing around the swollen nipple with harsh, eager suction that made your thighs instinctively tense around him.
Even through the layers of his pants, you could feel how big and hard he was beneath you, the firm outline of his thick cock pressing insistently against your soaked panties with every shallow movement.
Fuck, focus Y/N.
His wallet had shifted dangerously close to the edge of his pocket, almost slipping free from the constant movement of your bodies.
You rolled your hips against him again…another soft moan escaping your lips as the friction sent a dizzying pulse of pleasure through you.
“Oh my…”
For a fleeting second, you almost forgot the wallet, your body threatening to lose the battle your mind was still desperately trying to win.
“Baby…” he groaned harshly.
His hands tightened around your waist, pinning your hips firmly in place before you could move against him again.
Confused, you instinctively tried to move again, but his hand beat you to it. It slipped between your thighs before firmly cupping your pussy over your soaked panties, his palm pressing against your wet cunt as his fingers slowly dragged against the damp fabric. A soft, unmistakable squelch filled the quiet cabin, and your breath caught in your throat.
“I said stay still, fuck.” he whispered, mercilessly squeezing your pussy through the thin fabric until another helpless moan spilled from your lips.
Your eyes fluttered shut on instinct, your mouth falling open as his slow, deliberate touch only made you wetter, the soaked fabric sticking embarrassingly to your folds with every movement of his hand.
A startled gasp escaped you when his free hand suddenly rose to your face, firmly squeezing your cheeks together.
“Keep your eyes open. Look at what I'm doing to you,” he commanded, his thumb finding your clit through the damp fabric and rubbing slow, lazy circles that sent a violent shiver through your body.
“Oh... gosh,” you whimpered, your voice barely above a breath.
Your thoughts were beginning to dissolve all over again until something caught your eye.
His wallet had finally slipped free from his pocket, landing quietly on the leather seat beside him. Relief surged through you, and you almost smiled in triumph, the sight nearly distracting you from your mission's success.
Before you could dwell on it, he hooked a finger beneath the damp gusset of your panties, flipping the fabric aside just enough to expose your slick pussy. His fingertips returned, meeting your bare cunt directly, and the sudden skin-to-skin contact tore another breathless gasp from your lips.
Your eyes rolled back as his long fingers slowly rubbed against your sensitive cunt. The cool metal of his rings grazed your slit with every stroke, sending a sharp shiver through your body and drawing another helpless whimper from your throat.
A low chuckle rumbled in his chest. "Enjoying yourself?"
You could only nod, slow and breathless, your chest rising and falling beneath uneven breaths. Heat bloomed across your cheeks, your face burning from every filthy thing you had let him do to you.
"Yeah?" he murmured, his voice dropping into a whisper. "You like my fingers, baby?"
Before you could answer, his middle finger slowly pressed into your tight, untouched hole.
A broken whimper escaped you, your teeth sinking into your lower lip as your body instinctively tensed around the unfamiliar stretch. For a fleeting second, your hand nearly came up to push him away, your inexperience heightening every overwhelming sensation. But he caught your face first, his fingers tightening around your cheeks, forcing your gaze back to him.
He inhaled softly before hollowing his cheeks, gathering saliva in his mouth, then leaned closer and messily spat between your parted lips.
"Swallow."
You obeyed without hesitation, your throat bobbing as you swallowed, your walls fluttering tightly around his finger at the command.
His hand slipped lower, lifting the hem of your skirt before his gaze settled between your thighs. He watched with quiet fascination as his finger slowly disappeared inside your virgin hole before drawing back out again, only to repeat the motion at an unhurried pace.
"You're so tight, baby." he tilted his head, his eyes never leaving your pussy. "When was the last time you fucked?"
The question alone nearly brought tears to your eyes, embarrassment burning through you just as intensely as the confusing mixture of pain and pleasure his touch continued to pull from your body.
“L-Long time ago.”
As if Y/N!
He licked his lower lip, a quiet whimper slipping past your lips as the pad of his middle finger reached deeper inside your warm tight hole. His movements remained slow until his fingertip brushed against your spongy spot, the sharp ache of the stretch gradually melting into a pleasure so warm it made your body soften around him.
"Aww, is that why you're so tight, baby?” he whispered.
God, this was so wrong.
“Maybe you need me to stretch your hole again, hmm?" he cooed, lowering his head until his lips wrapped around your swollen nipple, sucking gently while his finger continued to work deeper into your tight cunt.
"Y-Yes," you mumbled incoherently, your rational thoughts dissolving as your hips instinctively rolled forward, chasing the slow rhythm of his finger.
The moment he felt you move, his free hand settled firmly around your waist, stilling you with ease. He released your nipple with a soft pop before a quiet chuckle escaped him, his dark eyes lifting to meet yours with unmistakable amusement.
"Patience, baby. I'm still having fun."
A pout tugged at your lips, ready to answer back, but the words never came. His left hand slipped between your thighs instead, slowly parting your folds before drawing back the hood revealing your glistening clit, exposing it completely beneath his dark gaze.
"Wanna suck this clit so bad," he whispered, his gaze fixed between your thighs as your clit pulsed beneath the weight of his stare.
He leaned down and spat over it, a slow trail of saliva slipping down your slit until it met the middle finger buried inside your hole. A helpless whimper caught in your throat, your eyes squeezing shut as he spread the saliva over your exposed clit with slow, pressured strokes, every messy rub sending another wave of pleasure through your body.
Both of his hands were devoted to you now. His tattooed fingers continued to work your tight hole with an unhurried rhythm while his other hand circled your swollen clit, spreading your growing wetness together with his saliva. His eyes never left your cunt, watching every tiny twitch, every shiver that rippled through you as though he wanted to memorize your pulsating pussy.
"You wanna cum?" he asked, lifting a brow as he watched your chest rise and fall with uneven breaths. His middle finger emerged coated in a thick ring of your white milky juices before disappearing back inside you, while your legs trembled uncontrollably beneath every slow sweep of his thumb across your swollen clit.
You nodded desperately, “Y-Yes…”
He pursed his lips, studying you for a long moment.
"You sure?"
"P-Please," you pleaded, your hips instinctively rolling in search of more.
"Aren't you forgetting something?" a small smile tugged at his lips, though there wasn't a trace of humor behind it.
Confusion barely had the chance to settle before he slowly inserted a second finger into your cunt.
A loud moan tore from your throat as the sudden stretch stole the air from your lungs. His fingers paused only briefly, allowing your body to adjust before they began to move together, scissoring you open with slow, rhythmic strokes while his other hand never stopped rubbing your clit.
The lingering ache of the stretch gradually melted beneath the mounting pleasure, your body surrendering to it completely. Your thighs quivered uncontrollably around his hand, your back arching as your orgasm crashed through you. Your eyes rolled back, your walls fluttering helplessly around his fingers while wave after wave of pleasure left your entire body trembling.
“Well done, baby.” he praised.
Even after the intensity began to ebb, your cunt continued to pulse around him, your legs still shaking from the aftershocks.
Only when your breathing had become nothing more than uneven gasps did he slowly withdraw his fingers from your hole, drawing another helpless whimper from your lips as the sudden emptiness met your lingering sensitivity.
Then he leaned in, his teeth grazed the shell of your ear in a soft bite before his lips brushed against it.
"I’m so proud." he whispered.
As your gaze drifted downward, it caught on the slight opening of his wallet, the sight striking you like a quiet reminder of why you had approached him in the first place.
Your fucking mission.
You bit down hard on your lower lip, gathering what little composure remained before forcing the words past your throat.
"C-Can I drink some water? I'm kinda thirsty," you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper. Your thighs were still trembling from your release, your heart pounding so loudly against your chest that you were certain he could hear it.
You expected him to refuse…Instead, he simply nodded.
"Hmm sure, baby. Let me get it for you."
His tongue swept across his lower lip before he gently tucked a few loose strands of hair away from your flushed cheeks, his touch unexpectedly tender as his eyes lingered on yours.
You swallowed hard, relief flooding through your body so quickly it almost made you dizzy.
"I'll wait for you here," you said with a small smile, leaning forward just enough to steal a quick kiss from his lips before he stood.
His eyes narrowed, smiling a little, but there was something in them that you couldn't quite pinpoint.
The moment he climbed out of the car, shutting the door behind him before disappearing into the noisy beer house in search of a bottle of water, you sprang into action.
You quickly fixed your dress before reaching for the thick gold necklace that had slipped onto the leather seat during everything that had happened between the two of you. Your fingers wrapped around it before darting toward his wallet, still resting exactly where you had dropped it after deliberately sitting on it when you asked for water.
Your pulse thundered in your ears as your gaze frantically swept across the interior of the car, searching for anything else of value. It didn't take long before your eyes landed on a small, heavy bag tucked beneath the passenger seat.
Without wasting another second—or even bothering to look more....you snatched it as well, clutching the necklace, the wallet, and the bag tightly against your chest before quietly pushing the car door open.
With shaky, trembling hands, you slipped out of the vehicle and hurried toward the nearest sprawling tree beside the parking lot, its thick trunk shielding you from anyone who might glance in your direction. Only then did you allow yourself to stop, your chest rising and falling with uneven breaths as you hugged your stolen belongings close, desperately trying to calm the frantic pounding of your heart.
The necklace alone felt expensive in your hands, its weight unmistakable, and you couldn't help but admire the rich gleam of the gold beneath the parking lot lights.
This has to be high-karat.
Your eyes practically sparkled at the thought, relief and triumph swelling inside your chest as you silently congratulated yourself. You had actually managed to steal from him without getting fucked... and without getting caught.
Almost.
A small smile tugged at your lips as you slipped the thick gold necklace into your pocket, the reassuring weight of it pressing against your thigh.
Your attention soon drifted to the heavy bag you had grabbed from beneath the seat, curiosity getting the better of you. You crouched beneath the tree and slowly pulled the zipper open, your brows knitting together at the sight of something black and metallic nestled inside.
Frowning, you reached to get a better look, only for your breath to catch in your throat.
It was a gun.
What the fuck?
Your hands instantly began to shake. The bag slipped from your grasp, hitting the ground with a heavy thud that echoed far louder than it should have in the quiet of the parking lot.
You stared at it in horror before your gaze darted to the wallet still clutched tightly against your chest, your pulse pounding so violently it made your fingers numb.
"Oh God... this is a bad idea," you whispered to yourself, panic clawing its way up your throat.
For one reckless moment, you considered running back, returning the necklace, the wallet, the bag….everything—and pretending none of this had ever happened.
Maybe you could leave them inside his car before he noticed. Maybe you could still walk away.
But it was already too late.
If there was one thing Hanni had drilled into your head from the very beginning, it was this: once you stole something, you never gave it back. Going back wasn't bravery—it was stupidity.
And stupidity was exactly how thieves got caught.
With trembling hands, you slowly opened his wallet, your brows immediately knitting together when an identification card tucked behind a gleaming gold badge came into view.
Your stomach dropped. This wasn't a wallet at all—it was a badge holder.
A cold chill crept down your spine as your fingers shakily flipped the leather, your eyes scanning every detail printed across the identification. The words blurred together at first, your racing heart making it impossible to focus, until your gaze landed on the line that mattered most.
CITY POLICE DEPARTMENT
Rank: Captain | Name: Jeon Jungkook
For a long, terrifying second, your mind went completely blank, your pulse pounding so violently it drowned out every sound around you.
"F-Fuck! Oh God—fuck!"
The words tumbled out in a frantic whisper as your hands shook so violently you could barely keep hold of the badge holder.
Your breathing grew shallow, your mind racing through every possible escape, each one ending worse than the last.
You stared at the polished badge in horror, your heart threatening to beat straight out of your chest, when the sound of approaching footsteps suddenly reached your ears.
Panic surged through your body, and you instinctively turned, ready to run for your life, but a firm hand wrapped around your wrist before you could take a single step.
"Where are you going?" he asked with a quiet chuckle from behind you, amusement lacing his voice.
You froze.
Your gaze remained fixed straight ahead, too terrified to look back at him. Cold sweat trickled down your spine as your heartbeat thundered in your ears.
The heavy bag still lay on the ground at your feet. The gold necklace weighed against your pocket. And clutched tightly between your trembling fingers was his badge holder, still opened to the identification that had shattered every ounce of confidence you had only moments ago.
You had been fucking caught.
Not just by any random stranger.
But by a goddamn police captain.
"I got your water, baby," he said, his voice coated in quiet amusement. You flinched the moment the cold bottle brushed against the back of your thighs, the chill a cruel contrast to the heat of your panic.
"O-Officer, I—"
"You forgot something, didn't you?" he whispered against your ear, his grip never loosening around your wrist.
The bottle of water lazily traced the length of your trembling thigh, as though he had all the time in the world.
Your eyes squeezed shut, your legs threatened to give out beneath you, hot tears gathering until they spilled freely down your cheeks. Every frantic thought crashed into the next, leaving you unable to form a single coherent sentence.
He leaned in even closer, his warm breath ghosting just below your ear.
"You forgot my wallet, baby." his voice dropped into a slow drawl. "That's my badge holder."
A broken sob caught in your throat. Your future flashed before your eyes in vivid, terrifying fragments.
You could already see the cold metal of handcuffs locking around your wrists, the flashing red and blue lights, the backseat of a patrol car, a holding cell, your family finding out, your future slipping through your fingers before you had even been given the chance to fight for it. Everything you had worked so hard for, every dream you had stubbornly clung to despite your circumstances, all of it seemed to crumble into pieces in the span of a few unbearable seconds.
You had just thrown your entire life away.
“P-Please, I-’’
"Is my poor baby too dumb, or does that pretty little head of yours just want to get fucked?"
You shook your head frantically, tears spilling faster down your cheeks. "N-No, no, Officer, please... I'm sorry. It was a mistake—"
A startled gasp escaped you when he suddenly spun you around, your back pressing against the rough bark of the tree. Your tear-clouded eyes instantly met his dark ones, the amusement lingering in them only making the panic clawing at your chest grow worse.
He raised a brow, studying your face for a long, agonizing moment.
"Aww, look at you…so scared, baby." he cooed.
“I-I’m sorry-”
“Want me to give you a chance?’’ he tilted his head.
Hope bloomed inside your chest so suddenly it almost hurt.
Jungkook took another step forward, his broad frame caging you against the tree until there was nowhere left to run. Your entire body trembled beneath his gaze, your heart pounding so violently you could barely hear yourself think, and you looked up at him with desperate, pleading eyes, clinging to the smallest possibility that he might actually let you go.
"P-Please, Officer… I-I'm sorry..." you stammered, the words tumbling over one another in your haste. "I-I know it was wrong, a-and that—"
‘’Run.”
Your lips parted in disbelief.
"W-What?"
He slowly licked his lower lip, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth that carried no warmth whatsoever. Stepping closer until there wasn't even a breath of space left between you, he brushed the pad of his thumb across your trembling lips, his eyes never leaving yours.
“Run, baby. Run as fast as you can.” his voice dropped into a low murmur, his tone as though he were talking to a child. "And when I catch you, I'm gonna take you to prison. I'll fuck you every day behind those rusty metal bars. I'll use your tight little pussy until your hole is gaping and leaking. Maybe I'll even let my comrades fuck you too. We'll take turns fucking that slutty, manipulative pussy of yours."
Desperation made people do reckless things.
It silenced reason, drowned out fear, and left nothing behind but the instinct to survive.
You spun around and bolted before your mind had the chance to catch up, your legs carrying you as fast as they could through the dimly lit streets. Instead of following the brighter roads, you veered into the narrow, shadowed alleyways, your panicked thoughts convincing you that the light was far more dangerous than the dark.
People could help you—but the moment they learned why you were running, they wouldn't see a terrified woman.
They would see a thief.
A criminal…and they would hand you right back to him.
Your lungs burned, each desperate breath sharper than the last, your feet throbbing against the unforgiving pavement as you forced yourself to keep going. When a tall chain-link fence came into view, fear surged through your exhausted body. You stumbled toward it, your shaking hands already reaching for the metal, frantically searching for a way to climb over it.
You never got the chance.
A powerful hand suddenly seized both of your wrists from behind, wrenching them backward before you could react. A startled cry tore from your throat as your body was dragged away from the fence, only to be slammed against it a heartbeat later.
“L-Let me go!” you cried.
The rough metal dug painfully into your cheek, your breath knocked from your lungs as he forced your arms higher behind your back. Then you heard it—
A sharp metallic click…cold steel closed around your wrist.
You were handcuffed.
He secured the other cuff around the metal fence, leaving your wrists restrained above your head. The cold steel bit into your skin as you instinctively struggled against it, your cheek pressed harshly against the chain-link, the rough metal scraping your flushed skin every time you tried to pull away. The handcuffs refused to budge, each desperate tug only making them dig in deeper.
"N-No... no, please," you cried, your voice breaking into helpless sobs.
Instead of hurting you, he reached up and gently combed a few loose strands of hair away from your face, the unexpected tenderness making your entire body flinch. His fingers lingered for a moment, idly twirling a lock of your hair around them before giving it a soft tug.
"Shh, it’s okay…" he said in a mocking tone.
"I-I’m sorry, please…I’ll do anything—"
The plea died on your lips when you felt him lower himself behind you.
“Anything, baby?” he whispered.
He settled onto one knee before slowly gathering the hem of your dress, inch by inch, until your damp panties were fully exposed beneath the cool night air. His large hands slid down to your thighs, spreading your legs apart with an effortless firmness that left your body trembling against the restraint.
Your eyes widened as you pulled uselessly at the handcuffs, your legs instinctively trying to close, but there was nowhere to go. A warm tongue suddenly pressed against the fabric between your thighs, dragging slowly over your sticky panties.
His nose remained buried in your tight hole, drawing in a slow, deep breath as though savoring every scent of you. His tongue dragged languidly along your slit from behind, the damp fabric of your panties doing little to dull the sensation.
"O-Oh gosh-" you cried, fresh tears spilling down your flushed cheeks as you felt him inhale against your clothed cunt again. His tongue swept over you once more, leaving your panties even wetter than before.
“Let me play with you.” he murmured before diving in.
You bit down hard on your lip, another wave of warmth pooling between your thighs despite yourself. More tears slipped from your eyes, the overwhelming pleasure tangling with the fear coursing through your body.
I am not enjoying this, I am not-
A low groan rumbled behind you as he spread your legs farther apart. His pointed nose brushed against your puckered hole, inhaling deeply.
You craned your neck to look around, but there was no one in sight. Only the lonely yellow glow of a streetlamp stretched across the empty street, casting long shadows around the two of you.
When he flipped your panties aside, you instinctively tried to close your legs, but a startled gasp escaped your lips as his palm suddenly came down against your inner thigh with a sharp smack, the sting urging your legs back open for him.
“Open up for me, baby. Let me taste your little pussy,” he murmured, giving your thigh another light tap as he silently coaxed you to spread yourself wider.
You were getting wetter, but the thought of someone's tongue directly against your pussy was beyond your virgin imagination.
When you still didn't move, a quiet chuckle rumbled in his chest.
You felt him rise behind you, the warmth of his body disappearing for only a brief moment before the unmistakable click of metal made your breath hitch. Before you even had the chance to turn your head, the cold barrel of the gun was pressed against your temple.
A broken cry caught in your throat, your entire body trembling.
“W-What-”
"Spread your legs."
His voice was firm, leaving no room for hesitation. The barrel pressed more insistently against your temple, and with another shaky sob, your knees slowly fell farther apart.
A satisfied hum vibrated from his chest. Only then did he pull the gun away, tucking it back into the holster at the back of his belt before lowering himself between your thighs once more. His hands wrapped around them, holding you open exactly how he wanted, and the moment he buried his face between your legs, a deep groan escaped him.
“Oh, gosh!” you moaned.
You were already leaking, his broad tongue dragged slowly up and down your chubby, swollen folds before slipping between them, teasing your slit as it delved deeper, massaging your inner walls with slow, deliberate strokes that only left you wetter.
“Pretty.” he leaned back and spat onto your cunt, watching the thick strand of saliva mingle with your slick wetness. “Do you regret what you did, baby?”
His fingers hooked beneath your outer lips, spreading them apart just enough to watch his saliva disappear deeper into your cunt. He spat again, his gaze fixed on the way it slipped between your folds, leaving your sensitive inner walls glistening.
“Y-Yes,” you moaned shamelessly, the torture only making you wetter.
“Would you let me do anything I want?” he asked, staring at your fluttering cunt.
You bit your lip, feeling your milky juices drip from every degrading thing he'd been saying to you.
“Yes.” you said in a tiny voice.
He chuckled, “You wanted to be used like this, didn't you?”
He leaned in, his tongue flattening as he licked from your perineum to your clit in one slow, vulgar stroke, spreading his spit until his own drool began to trail down his chin.
“You wanted this…you sat on my lap, ground your filthy cunt against my cock, acted like a good little decoy so you could rob me. But your hole's been thanking me the whole time, hasn't it?”
You shut your eyes tightly when you felt him continuously spitting on your cunt, your pussy was getting so wet that you felt it dripping on your inner thighs down to your ankles.
He held your folds apart, leaving you completely exposed for his hungry gaze. Leaning back, he watched the way they trembled and pulsed beneath his eyes before leaning down again, his tongue already darting out to lap up every drop of your juices. Each time he swallowed, he would only spit over you again, coating you until you were slick enough for him to start all over.
Your eyes widened as the muzzle of the gun pressed against your inner thigh, cool, unforgiving steel sending a shiver through your body. It slowly slid higher until it settled against your entrance, the tip quickly growing slick with your wetness.
"O-Officer—"
“Shh, you wanted me to catch you, didn’t you? To rape your thief little pussy.” he mocked, his eyes fixed on the way the tip of the gun glistened with your milky juices as he slowly dragged it up and down your chubby slit.
Desperation was a frightening thing.
It stripped away reason piece by piece until all that remained was the helpless anticipation of whatever came next.
When you didn't answer, too absorbed in the feeling of the foreign gun against your pussy, he pressed it harder against you, drawing a pained whimper from your lips as tears stung your eyes.
"Answer me when I'm talking to you," he said firmly, applying just a little more pressure.
"Y-Yes," you whimpered.
He tilted his head. "Yes, what?"
You bit your lip. "Y-Yes, O-Officer."
He hummed in approval before pulling the gun away. His tongue darted out to taste the tip, sucking your wetness from the cold metal before releasing it with a soft pop.
A low groan rumbled from his chest as he buried himself between your thighs once more, diving back into your exposed pussy with relentless hunger. The obscene sounds of slurping, sucking, and the occasional spit echoed through the place, each one making you feel weaker, more helpless beneath him.
You bit down hard on your lip as you felt your orgasm creeping closer. You tried to hold it back, to keep control, but your body betrayed you.
Every flick of his tongue, every slow suck, every warm trail of spit sent another wave of pleasure crashing through you, making your pussy convulse beneath his tongue.
“F-Fuck-” you whimpered.
Your thighs trembled uncontrollably, your arms ached against the restraints, and your eyes rolled back as the pulsing sensation deep within you grew stronger with every passing second. You wanted to pull away from his mouth, to escape the overwhelming pleasure, but his grip remained firm, holding you exactly where he wanted as he sucked out every last tremor, refusing to let you move even as the overstimulation left your body trembling.
“Mhm, you taste so good, baby,” he whispered, leaning back just enough to pinch your folds together, as though squeezing every last drop of your milky white juices from your pussy before leaning in again to catch it on his tongue.
A helpless whimper escaped your lips. Your legs were on the verge of giving out beneath you, your arms still held captive by the restraints while your pussy throbbed with overwhelming sensitivity. As he rose to his feet, his palm landed against your cunt in a careless slap, making you flinch before he lazily wiped the sheen of your juices from the corner of his mouth.
His hand found your hair again, fingers threading through the strands before tightening into a firm fist. He tugged until your head tipped back, exposing the line of your throat, and his lips brushed against your tear-dampened cheek.
“Wanna steal more, baby?”
His grip twisted tighter, pulling your head back until your neck arched painfully.
He slowly dragged his tongue along the salty trail of your tears, licking your cheek with slow strokes, savoring the taste of your cries as another quiet hum of approval rumbled in his chest.
You whimpered, your body trembling as you felt the hard outline of his clothed bulge press against the plush of your ass. He slowly ground his erection against you, a low grunt vibrating beneath your ear while his hand kept a firm hold on your hair, tugging your head back just enough for him to suck and leave harsh bites along your neck.
“What do you want, baby?” he whispered, grinding his cock more firmly against your bare ass. “My money? My jewelry?”
“O-Officer-”
His fist tightened in your hair, forcing another helpless whimper from your lips as he dragged his tongue along your throat, feeling the way you swallowed hard beneath him. “You wanted all of it, didn't you?”
His teeth sank into your neck once more as his clothed bulge rutted harder against the cleft of your ass, the seam of his pants catching against your skin with every slow roll of his hips. At the same time, his free hand slipped beneath your dress, yanking the fabric higher before grabbing a full handful of your bare ass, his fingers digging into the soft flesh hard enough to leave bruises.
"My pretty, pretty thief," he praised, pressing a kiss to your cheek as his hips rolled against you with even more force.
He wrenched his pants open just enough for his hard cock to spring free, the heated length slapping against one ass cheek before the other. Pre-cum glistened over the swollen tip as he slowly ground the shaft along the plush curve of your ass, coating your skin with every deliberate roll of his hips.
"Feel that? I'm so hard for you, baby."
A helpless mewl slipped past your lips as you weakly shook your head, your entire body trembling while he continued rubbing against your ass.
“Fuck, you make me so fucking horny.” he grunted.
Your cheeks burned crimson, the same flush spreading across your neck, and another whimper escaped you when he suddenly jerked your head back by the hair.
"Grind back, baby, or I'll fuck this tight little ass of yours."
You cried harder, your body trembling as you reluctantly began to move your ass against his cock. A deep groan escaped him, his right hand settling firmly on your hip as he looked down, watching the way his hard length slid slowly through the cleft of your ass with every hesitant grind.
He spat over the curve of your ass for added lubrication, and a helpless cry caught in your throat when you felt the warm saliva land against your puckered rim. Despite the humiliation, your pussy only grew wetter.
His tattooed hand suddenly snaked around your waist, trailing lower until it reached your cunt. You gasped as his fingers cupped your pussy before hooking between your folds, spreading your lips apart into a lewd V-shape for him to admire.
“Look down and watch your clit, baby.” he rasped, tilting your head down so your gaze fell between your legs.
“P-Please...” you croaked, your body growing weaker by the second, your pussy aching for more even as the rest of you threatened to give out.
“Wanna be fucked so bad, huh?”
You gasped as his middle finger suddenly pushed between the V-shaped hold of his fingers, slipping inside your tight cunt. Your walls fluttered helplessly around the thick digit as he slowly worked it deeper.
“Oh! Mhmp!” you screamed.
His cock left your ass, the slick tip dragging slowly down until it notched against your entrance, smearing pre-cum and his spit over your swollen folds.
“Gonna fuck you good, baby…you’ve been a very bad girl.” he yanked your hair, tilting your head back as his tongue traced a slow path from your neck to the shell of your ear. “Need to fuck some sense into you, hmm?’’
“Mhmp!” you whimpered.
“Shh... moan for me, baby. It'll feel good.” his finger pressed deeper one last time, stretching your walls before he slowly withdrew it. The emptiness lasted only a heartbeat before he replaced it with the thick, leaking head of his cock, nudging its way against your entrance.
“Ahhh!” you screamed at the sudden stretch, his thick cock forcing its way into your tight pussy until you could feel every pulsing vein dragging against your walls as he pushed deeper.
He thrust halfway, then stopped, watching your cunt spasm around him, a thin ribbon of milky white release clinging to his shaft like a ring.
“Fuck, you’re so tight.” he slowly pulled back before driving into you harder, bottoming out in one deep thrust, his pelvis slamming against your ass hard enough to make the fence rattle.
“Need to use this cunt every day. Maybe I’ll let my comrades fuck this tight little cunt so they can loosen you up for me, yeah?” he grunted, pushing even deeper until his balls rested snug against your cunt, the coarse hair at the base of his cock brushing against the curve of your ass with every shallow grind.
“U-Ugh, p-please...” you screamed, trying to wriggle, but he only answered with a low grunt against your ear. Then, without warning, he withdrew his cock completely.
For one fleeting moment, you thought he was finally going to let you go.
But your eyes widened the instant you heard the unmistakable clink of his leather belt being unclasped.
Your eyes widened as you felt him wrap the leather around your neck, fastening it just snug enough for him to tug whenever your cries grew too loud, cutting off your words with every sharp pull.
“Behave, baby.” he chuckled, easing himself inside you once more while keeping a firm grip on the belt for leverage. Every now and then, he gave it another deliberate tug, silencing your screams as his hips continued to drive into you.
The moment his hips began to roll against yours, your eyes fluttered back, pleasure blooming beneath the sting until you couldn't tell where one ended and the other began.
“O-Oh, O-Officer!” a shaky sob escaped your lips, born as much from the humiliation as the sensation itself. Your pussy ached for more, clenching helplessly around his thick girth, betraying you with every pulse.
A quiet chuckle rumbled from behind you. His arm slid around your waist, holding you firmly against him as he circled his hips into yours, each relentless thrust threatening to lift your body off your feet.
“Is my baby enjoying this?” he whispered, giving the leather another measured yank, just enough to cut your sob short. The strap bit into the flushed skin of your throat as his hips snapped forward again, his balls slapping wetly against your cunt with every forceful thrust.
“This is turning you on, huh?”
You shook your head, but your pussy only grew wetter, your cries slowly dissolving into helpless moans as he continued to fuck you from behind.
“Want me to stop?” he whispered.
“N-No, Officer.” you whimpered, tears slipping down your cheeks as you gave a slow, trembling shake of your head.
“Yeah? You like getting used?”
He gave the belt another sharp tug, cutting off your whimpers before loosening it just enough to let a broken moan spill from your lips. Then he drove into you even deeper, his mushroom tip grinding against your spongy walls until you could feel your own milky juices coating his shaft.
"Gonna lock you up in a cell, baby… you'll be the precinct's little fucktoy."
The moment his thick head brushed against your g-spot, your entire body spasmed around his cock. A harsh groan tore from his throat as your walls clamped down on him, forcing him to pull out almost immediately. His movements turned urgent, one hand fumbling for the keys clipped to his belt while the other steadied you. Your hazy eyes fluttered shut as you felt the handcuffs finally come undone from your wrists.
You thought he was done.
A weak gasp escaped your lips when he suddenly flipped you over to face him, your exhausted arms falling limply to your sides as he stripped away the rest of your dress. Without a word, he lifted you with effortless strength and pinned you against the cold metal fence before guiding his hard cock back inside you. A broken whimper slipped from your throat at the oversensitivity left behind by your previous orgasm, your body instinctively tensing around him as his mouth found your exposed nipples, sucking them greedily while he chased his own release.
Your body bounced helplessly with every powerful thrust, like a toy being used exactly as he pleased. Your tongue nearly lolled from your parted lips, your mind reduced to nothing but scattered pleasure as his larger frame manhandled yours with ease. Low grunts and strained moans vibrated against your swollen nipples, each sound muffled by the way his mouth refused to leave them.
A rough growl tore from his throat as his climax finally overtook him. You felt the thick warmth of his release spilling deep inside your already used hole, his hips continuing to roll against yours in slow, deep motions, as though determined to push every last drop of his cum even deeper.
“Fuck, baby,” his teeth sank into the soft flesh of your breast, the sharp sting blending seamlessly with the lingering waves of pleasure coursing through your body.
Some of it trickled down the insides of your thighs, warm against your skin. Your eyes fluttered, barely able to stay open…your body hanging limply in his grasp.
When he finally set you back on your feet, your legs nearly gave out beneath you. Before you could steady yourself, he was already kneeling between your thighs again, firmly spreading them apart as though he hadn't just reduced them to trembling.
“W-Wait-” you panicked.
A helpless cry escaped your lips when his mouth found your swollen pussy once more, lapping up the mixture of his release and your milky wetness, slurping every drop with relentless hunger. The overstimulation sent your body reeling, your clit already so unbearably sensitive that the moment his tongue slid upward to wrap around it, your pussy pulsed against his mouth, another orgasm crashing through you before you could stop it.
He looked up at you with heavy lidded eyes, watching every twitch and shudder that overtook your body as you came around his mouth.
You could see the way his cheeks hollowed with every slow suck on your clit, and somehow the sight of his discarded gun and badge lying carelessly on the floor beside him made the moment feel even dirtier—
A police officer on his knees, devotedly eating out the very thief he had caught.
Only when he was satisfied did he rise to his feet. His hand slipped into your hair, gently tugging you toward him until his lips claimed yours, letting you taste yourself on his tongue as he kissed you with greedy desperation. Your eyelids grew heavy, your knees threatening to buckle again, your body barely able to remain upright.
You flinched when you felt his hardened cock brush against your inner thighs even as he continued kissing you, a wave of panic surging through your exhausted body. Your pussy already felt swollen and unbearably sensitive, every nerve still humming from the relentless orgasms he had pulled from you.
As though sensing the fear creeping into your expression, he let out a low chuckle, slowly pulling away from your lips to study your face.
"Aww, is my baby tired?" he cooed, the words dripping with mock honey as he nudged your chin upward.
You shook your head, your body instinctively yielding to whatever he was going to do next.
The corner of his mouth twitched before he bit down on his lower lip, your quiet submission enough to make his cock throb.
"Kneel for me."
Your knees trembled beneath you as you slowly lowered yourself, a startled gasp escaping your lips the moment the swollen tip dragged a lazy streak of pre-cum across your cheek.
"Open up, baby…daddy's not done." he gathered your hair into one hand with a gentleness that belonged to a lover rather than the man standing before you, tilting your face toward his groin, a smile tugging at his lips that never quite reached the darkness in his eyes.
"Clean up the mess you made, hmm? Open wide for Officer."
The swollen head nudged past your lips, and a mock-pitying sigh slipped from him as your mouth slowly yielded around his cock, your tongue flattening instinctively beneath the weight before a helpless gag caught in your throat.
"There, there," he murmured, his fingers absentmindedly stroking your hair. "Suck nice and slow, pretty girl."
He began to rock his hips into your mouth in slow, shallow thrusts, while his free hand continued to pet your hair with a tenderness so painfully at odds with the degradation spilling from his lips.
"That's it, baby," he praised softly. "Tongue flat, like the dumb, cute slut you are."
He pushed his cock deeper until the swollen mushroom tip nudged the back of your throat, the prominent veins along his shaft dragging against the roof of your mouth with every slow thrust, the upward curve making each movement reach even deeper.
"I can give you everything you want, baby," he whispered, a groan slipping past his lips as his thrusts gradually became sloppier, his grip on your hair tightening with every push. Saliva gathered at the corners of your mouth as you fought the urge to choke, wet, muffled gargles escaping your throat each time he buried himself deeper. Your eyes burned, quickly turning red as tears pooled along your lash line.
He cradled your hair once more, the tenderness of the gesture clashing with the relentless pace of his hips.
"I can provide for you... spoil you with all of my money," he murmured, easing himself forward until your nose brushed against the coarse hair at his pelvis.
He held your face snugly in place for a brief moment before slowly rolling his hips, then gently pulled you back just enough to let you catch your breath, his saliva-slick cock dragging across your flushed cheeks.
"Do you want that?" he asked, tilting his head as he lazily ground his cock against your swollen cheek.
You nodded eagerly, your tear-filled eyes never leaving his.
He chuckled, giving your cheek a light tap with the head of his cock. "Do you understand me, baby?"
You pouted…your cheeks burning red, your eyes swollen, your lips wet with his precum.
“Mhm..”
“Mhm?” he chuckled.
He bit his lower lip as he stared down at you, quietly admiring the mess he'd made. “Cute.”
Without warning, he yanked your head forward until he was fully seated inside your mouth, your nose pressed into his pubic hair as his balls slapped against your chin with each shallow roll of his hips.
"Gurk—gurk—"
You choked around him, tears immediately spilling down your cheeks, but the only response he gave was a deep groan as he slowly began to fuck your face, each thrust forcing another muffled gargle from your throat.
"Fuck, baby...I'm gonna cum."
He pulled out just enough to lean down and spit onto your tongue before pushing his cock back into your mouth in one smooth thrust, the loose belt still hanging around your neck, its end dragging through the dirt every time your head was forced forward.
You gagged helplessly around him, your cheeks hollowing as your eyes rolled back, your head rocking back and forth with every relentless thrust while he used your mouth however he pleased. And when you felt his rhythm begin to falter, his thrusts growing rougher and increasingly sloppy, he suddenly pulled free with a low groan. Before you could even catch your breath, he hauled you to your feet, one arm wrapped firmly around your body as he guided his cock against your cunt, his other hand positioning himself before pushing his hard cock back into your tight hole.
“I’m gonna cum inside baby, a reward for being a good little toy for daddy.”
A broken cry escaped your lips as he buried himself to the hilt, his body shuddering the moment he came. Thick, warm spurts filled you one after another while your body trembled from the lingering overstimulation, his hips continuing to jerk and roll against yours as he emptied every last drop inside you.
"These are worth thousands, Y/N! Oh my God."
Hanni's eyes widened in utter disbelief, her gaze sweeping across the worn wooden table as though she couldn't decide which stolen treasure to look at first.
A thick leather wallet, its compartments stuffed with crisp bills. Heavy gold necklaces lay tangled together beside matching rings, each piece gleaming with the unmistakable richness of high-karat gold. A limited-edition watch rested nearby, its polished face catching the kitchen light with every slight movement. And a duffel bag overflowed with expensive perfumes, bottle after bottle worth more than most people's monthly salary.
A slow smile tugged at your lips as your gaze wandered over Jungkook's belongings scattered across the table.
You never told Hanni that you'd gotten caught.
Instead, you let her believe everything had gone according to plan.
Desperation has a way of rewriting your morals. It convinces good people to cross lines they once swore they would never touch, somehow making it feel like the only choice left.
He had given you far more than you had ever planned on stealing.
Tucked beneath your bed, hidden inside an old shoebox, were stacks of cash and signed checks worth enough to keep you comfortable for a long while—buying you the time to find a better path for yourself.
You hadn't even told Hanni about them.
Not because you didn't trust her, but because you knew the moment she saw that kind of money, questions would follow. Questions you couldn't answer without admitting where it had come from. So you kept the cash hidden, the checks tucked safely beneath it, and carried the secret alone.
He still hadn't turned you over to the authorities, even though it was painfully obvious he'd known exactly what kind of person you were from the very beginning.
From the moment he'd let you reach for the clasp of his necklace, he'd already known.
No high-ranking police officer—especially not a captain…would've failed to notice what you were trying to do. He had seen through you from the very beginning, long before you'd ever managed to slip a single thing into your hands.
Why did he let you?
You smiled seductively, slipping the watch and wallet beneath your dress before taking another sip of your now-warm beer, your gaze lingering on your target, who was far too drunk to notice the way your attention had never truly been on him.
Perhaps you hadn't changed.
Because here you were, stealing again…chasing the same thrill, the same rush, while somewhere beneath every excuse you made for yourself, another reason quietly waited.
Maybe you wanted to see him again.
You left the crowded club with the stolen watch and wallet hidden beneath your dress, weaving through the lingering crowd until the music faded behind you. The cool night air greeted your flushed skin as you made your way toward the smoking area, where you and Hanni had agreed to meet.
You had been stealing for six months now.
You managed to steal from a shopping mall, a restaurant, a boutique, and even a high-end store—your usual targets where men were rarely involved.
Tonight, you decided to try flirting again…attempting to seduce someone despite the fact that your only experience had been with him.
Before you could even pull out your phone to text Hanni, someone pushed you against the cold brick wall.
Familiar dark, round eyes stared back at you, the same pierced lips curled around a cigarette as smoke drifted lazily into the night. Tattooed arms caged you in on either side, leaving nowhere for you to go.
Your eyes widened.
Seeing him dressed in the crisp navy uniform of a police captain stole the air from your lungs.
Gold captain's bars gleamed from the epaulets on his shoulders, while a polished metal badge rested proudly over his chest. His duty belt sat low around his waist, crowded with the familiar weight of handcuffs, a radio, holster, and the rest of the equipment that came with his authority. The neatly pressed fabric, the black tie tucked beneath the collar, the nameplate pinned above his pocket—it all transformed the man you remembered into someone far more intimidating.
Power looked infuriatingly good on him.
Before you could utter a single word, his left hand slipped under your dress. Your breath caught as his fingers found the watch and wallet strapped against your thigh with effortless precision.
“Looks like my baby didn't learn her lesson, hmm?”
Warnings: sex with your ex, established relationship, mafia/assassin jeongguk, guns, unprotected sex, dirty talk (i think?), fingering - f receiving, oral - f receiving, he eats the kitty from the back, toxic and annoying jeongguk again, this manipulating ass man i lowk hate him, getting manhandled by jk, me talking about how HUGE jk is, size difference, brat taming, slight choking, spitting, invasion of your privacy meaning he’s snooping through your work computer, power play but not really bc reader folded like a pretzel too fast, and again, the two of them just being dumb.
Word count: 19,743
Summary: Some ghosts don't haunt houses. They haunt people.
Cross posted on AO3
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Other work: Make Me Water - JiKook x Reader
I Got Ways - Part 1
I Got Ways - Part 2
***Honestly I have no other reason for making a part 3 except for the fact that I'm super easy and I fall for anyone that gives me praise. I'm like a wild rabid starving animal for it. So, for those of you that complimented my writing, this is for you. Look what you've done! You did this! Also, I edited this a thousand times but I kept getting distracted so I apologize for the errors. I know I'm gonna kick myself when I read this shit in the morning and see all the mistakes. I'm sorry***
Inspired by:
Jeongguk killed the engine to his motorcycle. The roar fading into the busy pulse of the city.
Traffic rolled through the intersection without pause. A crowded bus hissed to a stop at an even more crowded bus shelter. Car horns echoed somewhere further down the street. Salary men and women hurried by with coffees and briefcases in their hands while a group of laughing teens lingered outside a store.
This city was completely unaware of the violence that often moved amongst them unnoticed.
Jeongguk pulled off his helmet. Running a hand through the black strands of hair flattened by the ride before peeling off his leather gloves one finger at a time.
Sharp eyes scanned his surroundings while his attention never left the gallery across the street at the same time. He pulled his sunglasses over his eyes while he leaned back on the seat of his bike. The leather seat groaning with his weight. He adjusted the glasses that blocked out the sunrays. Black rims. Black lenses. Just like the graveyard his soul lived in.
A quiet crackle sounded in an earpiece resting within his ear canal and Jeongguk sighed out, "We need to wrap this shit up before six." He murmured, fingers at his ear to adjust the nearly microscopic piece of technology lodged comfortably in the space.
From somewhere else far in the city, 감시자 (Gamsija or The Watcher) snorted into the earpiece, "Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. You gotta go walk Pebbles and have dinner with your girlfriend on her balcony. Busy man you are."
"Shut up." Jeongguk grumbled as he shoved his gloves into a compartment behind his seat and swung a leg off his bike as he stepped off, “She’s not my girlfriend anymore.” He continued, hands on the handles of the bike and pivoting it while he deployed the kickstand.
"No?"
"No."
The Watcher hummed right into the earpiece then out came a snap of laughter, "Yeah. Suuuuuure. Okay." He sighed out dreamily and Jeongguk heard him shuffling papers around before he continued, “Those home cooked meals I see you inhaling could say otherwise.” And right on queue, the rustling of a bag could be heard opening from the other end of the feed, “I’d kill for a warm meal.” The Watcher crunched into his mic with his mouth full.
Jeongguk didn't even bother denying what The Watcher said. There wasn’t any use in lying when the eyes of Haegeum saw everything anyways. He could have come up with a remark. Using his sharp tongue to quip back an insult but in reality, he was just not in the mood today for jokes. Instead, he started to make his way to the art gallery’s entrance. Eyes catching his reflection moving through the large windows of the building.
There was something inherently menacing about the way Jeongguk carried himself. With his head held high. Stride unhurried. Just… Terrifyingly sexy.
Being large and in charge was one thing but the way he looked was another. His appearance resembled the ghosts the underworld spoke of in hushed voices. A specter woven into the city's underbelly. Seen only by those unlucky enough to cross his path.
The quiet through his earpiece lasted for about twenty seconds before he heard the sputter of static again and then that annoying, grating voice came through, "Sooo... you and Shadow good again? Back together maybe? Finally? Hopefully?"
Jeongguk exhaled through his nose sharply and didn’t answer. He didn’t even acknowledge the questions. He did a good job with ignoring the annoying little voice coming through his earpiece. Mostly because Gwishin and Gamsija had been working together for well over a decade. Their brotherhood and friendship stretched far beyond just work and quite frankly, Jeongguk had grown used to having that voice rambling in his ear. So, he did what he knew best. Ignore. Ignore. Ignore. And hope The Watcher would give up.
He pushed open the gallery doors and stepped inside into cool air and muted light. The hush of meticulous silence swallowed the street noise behind him. Dulling the bustle of the city life completely.
The earlier question was left hanging in his earpiece like a thread he refused to touch because Jeongguk couldn't call anything the two of you were doing getting back together per se since that would imply the two of you had never truly been broken up in the first place.
But ever since the night he was ordered to walk Mrs. Grey’s dog, he somehow ended up coming back to your place and staying for dinner afterwards. Then he found himself back there almost every evening since. Sometimes for a meal. Sometimes for a drink. Sometimes just to sit outside on your balcony in comfortable silence while the city buzzed beneath you both. All under the guise that he had to walk a damn dog.
He never spent the night. Never overstepped any imaginary boundary between the two of you either. Jeongguk knew better than that. He had never been the type to reach for things he knew he shouldn’t have... No matter how badly he wanted them.
And with you, he was always careful. Careful with his words. With his hands. With the way his eyes hung onto you when you weren’t looking. He never asked for more than what you gave him. Never tried to turn an evening into morning. Or a quiet visit into something more.
There were no conversations about labels. There were no promises. There was simply an unspoken understanding that, when the day was over, Jeongguk knew exactly where he wanted to be. It felt... good. Different. But good.
"I take your silence as confirmation." Came that voice through his ear again.
Jeongguk again offered no response. He simply kept walking. His gaze stayed fixed ahead as he continued down a corridor. The earpiece remained quiet for a moment, the voice on the other end apparently accustomed to his lack of response.
Silence had always been easier. People filled silence with whatever they wanted to believe and Jeongguk had long since learned there was power in letting them decide. And the voice in his ear piece never pressed him for more. The Watcher simply accepted the absence of an answer for exactly what it was meant to be.
"I'm just saying…" The Watcher continued, "I know everything. There's a reason they call me what they do."
Jeongguk sighed under his breath, "You don't know everything."
"I know enough. I know that you parked outside the gallery on the corner near a run down hardware store. Between a blue shitbox and a stop sign. I know you already got three security guards inside. One’s pretending to read a brochure by the east entrance. Aaaand I know you're exactly thirteen minutes ahead of schedule."
The Watcher had earned his nickname for a reason. If Haegeum needed to know something, their eyes already did. The Haegeum Network stretched across the city the same way veins pulsed beneath skin. Information flowed to The Watcher before most people even realized it existed.
Unfortunately, the gift came attached to a man whose voice always grated Jeongguk’s ears. He never knew how to shut up. Never knew boundaries and certainly did not care that he pushed past the point of professionalism when it came to Jeongguk. Or any of the other Haegeum members for that matter.
He had a voice that drifted through the earpiece like a siren's song. Smooth enough to make anyone listen. And sharp enough like the tongue of a viper carrying venom.
And aside from all of the one sided yapping, The Watcher wasn’t someone to mess with. He had the skills of a mad scientist when it came to using technology. And the face of an absolute angel. With long blonde hair. Full lips. A cute crooked front tooth. And rosy cheeks to match. Jeongguk often wondered why he didn’t pursue the career of being anything fucking else rather than joining The Network. But alas, there was never a reason to join Haegeum. You were simply born into it.
"You ever think about talking less?" Jeongguk snapped.
"Never.”
Jeongguk's jaw tightened and flexed before he grunted out, "Don't ask me about her."
That answer was enough. But not enough to shut The Watcher up completely. A knowing grin spread across The Watcher’s face despite Jeongguk being miles away and then another question came through the feed of his earpiece,
"Does she know you're here?"
"No."
"Gonna join her lecture again?"
"No."
"Are you sure?"
Jeongguk's eyes narrowed behind his sunglasses. Across the hall, the man he had been waiting on finally emerged from the gallery's side entrance, speaking into his phone as he headed toward the main hall.
The mission had started.
"Gotta go."
The line went dead before The Watcher could squeeze in another question. He laughed to himself anyway. Jeongguk had answered "no" a little too quickly both times. That usually meant the answer wasn't nearly as simple as he wanted it to be.
Jeongguk adjusted his sunglasses as he moved forward, expression stoic. The lenses over his eyes darkened as they activated from The Watcher’s side. A faint pulse syncing immediately with the feed so that The Watcher could see everything through Jeongguk’s eyes.
The world shifted and then his sight doubled. Mirrored through The Watcher’s system somewhere across the city. And inside the earpiece after another three whole seconds of silence came a slow, appreciative hum followed by a “…Damn.”
“Can you see properly?” Jeongguk asked with a flat voice.
“Ohhh yeahhhhh. Crystal.” Watcher replied, distracted for a second by Jeongguk’s reflection in a mirror hanging along the gallery’s wall, “Got your feed. Got the whole gallery. Even got your target breathing too loudly on your six.” Then Watcher added because he simply couldn’t help himself, “But seriously? How are you that built?”
Jeongguk finally tilted his head slightly, adjusting his jacket as he stepped closer to the reception’s desk, “Man, can you shut up and focus?”
“Oh, I am focusing.” Watcher said immediately. His voice sounding offended on principle, “I’m focusing on the fact you look like you’ve gone full borg.”
Jeongguk clicked his tongue, “Stop playin’ games.” He spat. Behind his sunglasses, his reflection shimmered faintly through the mirror in front of him and his lips twitched just a smidge. Full borg. What a nerd. He let out a disgruntled sigh and then said, “Just keep your eyes on the damn building.”
Gamsija laughed softly, still watching him through every available angle of the city before he hummed out, “Boss, I am the fucking building.” He shrilled with laughter, his voice sliding back into that effortless Watcher cadence, “I am the eyes of this city.”
“Yeah, whatever.” Jeongguk grumbled. Eyes on the array of priceless art pieces hanging along the walls of the gallery with a look of distaste spread across the canvas of art that was his own face.
Jeongguk fucking hated art. He hated the silence. Hated the beige walls. And he truly hated the pretentious little plaques beside every painting that somehow took two hundred and fifty words to explain what could have been summed up in three simple words, it's fuckin’ trash.
And he especially hated art galleries. Which was unfortunate because he had been coming to this one every Wednesday and Friday for the past six weeks.
He looked completely out of place here yet he managed to blend in seamlessly with the crowds at the same time. With his black combat boots thundering against the polished floors. Tight black jeans showing off muscular thighs. A fitted black t-shirt glued to his abdomen and making every ridge and dip of muscle show. Worn beneath a sleek leather jacket that had seen more nights than mornings. Dark sunglasses resting on the bridge of his nose despite the gallery being flooded with natural light. He hardly took the sunglasses off. Never indoors. Certainly not outdoors. Not in meetings. And not even when the sky was fucking grey.
And of course, on his face the Gwishin wore a frown. A very deep frown that almost looked like a scowl. A resting bitch face if you wanted to call it that.
He always looked unimpressed. Unchanging. Bored. But Jeongguk was far from that. What looked like an unbothered exterior had thousands of thoughts running through his head. Mapping out exits. Security. You know the drill.
See, people noticed Jeongguk no matter what but no one really ever struck up a conversation with him unless they had a death wish. Except for the pretty receptionist sitting at the front desk Jeongguk was walking up to. The one that always straightened her spine to push her gigantic boobs up higher and smiled with those dark red lips a little wider every single time she saw him,
"Back again, Mr… Joonam Kim?" She smiled brightly, teetering on the edge of her seat to get a better look of him as he walked up to the counter.
Yes, the name he used every Wednesday and Friday for the past month was Mr. Joonam Kim. Like hell he was going to walk around telling people his real name. He had his fellow Haegeum members to use for that. He knew his teammate wouldn’t mind the play on his name. It was all part of the fun of the job. Whatever fun meant to Jeongguk anyway.
His mouth barely twitched hearing the name. While the voice in his earpiece barked out a laugh right in his ear that almost made Jeongguk cut the line entirely. He let the pause between him and the receptionist stretch just long enough to make her feel uncomfortable.
The silence was long enough for her to wonder if she had gotten his name wrong. He stared at the receptionist through the tint of his sunglasses. Watching the way she squirmed almost uncomfortably or maybe hornily under his hidden gaze. Then he gave her a lazy, “Mmm.” in response with a smooth, uninterested nod.
Joonam Kim was a mask. An easy one. An easy name that no one asked questions about. And a forgettable name that no one remembered after. But today wasn’t even a Joonam day.
Today had a target in mind. Today had a goal. Today was work.
And how much of a coincidence was it that his work for the last six weeks started at the place you were the director and main lecturer of? The world was smaller than Jeongguk thought, wasn’t it.
He adjusted his sunglasses slightly out of habit. A movement that hid the way his eyes were already tracking the room beyond the receptionist’s shoulders before speaking again, “I’m here for lecture four.” He added casually, already turning away before she could respond.
“No problem, Mr. Kim! Down the hall and to your left. Exhibition room number seven. The lecture starts in six minutes.” She chirped with a smile, clearly pleased he was still within conversational reach.
The unsuspecting receptionist thought he was one of your regulars. A man who had developed an unexpected appreciation for art after listening to one of your lectures. The rest of the staff that saw him twice a week thought the same.
Nobody questioned why the tattooed man dressed entirely in black wandered the exhibitions and joined your lectures on those specific days before quietly slipping out the exit doors like he was never there.
Nobody questioned why he never spoke. Never took notes. Never looked at the art work you were discussing for more than a few seconds. The truth was simple. Jeongguk couldn't tell a fucking soul the difference between any kind of art if someone strapped a bomb to his chest and asked him to.
If you tested people on every lecture you had ever given, Jeongguk would fail miserably. On purpose. And that was simply because the only masterpiece Jeongguk ever been truly interested in… was you. That was just the easy fucking truth.
Jeongguk didn’t answer the receptionist. Instead, he turned and made his way down the hall to the left without another word just as directed. He knew where the lecture was being held anyways. But he had to play the part.
And as he entered through the gallery doors, a gush of wind followed behind him. Making the trail of his scent follow behind him. Leaving the air smelling like wood, motor oil and leather. Inside the lecture hall revealed yeah, more boring ass white walls. More boring art. And best of all, silence mimicking sophistication. His favourite. That was sarcasm.
“Knew you would join the lecture.” Came The Watcher’s voice with a snicker.
“If you say one more thing, I’m gonna shove an ice pick through those eyes.” Jeongguk grunted, “Real slow.”
The call went silent at once and Jeongguk’s shoulders eased instantly and he rolled his muscles back then stretched his neck. He strolled through the lecture room like he didn’t care to be there. Why the fuck should he pretend about that part? It didn’t matter anyway. His elusiveness just made it easier for him to blend in although his appearance could say otherwise. People simply thought he was a lover of art. Perhaps a curator. Or maybe a buyer with a fat wallet.
And as he moved, his steps didn’t stray when he briefly passed the art showcasing the walls. He pretended to seem interested. A hand under his chin. Nodding in thought as though the century old paintings on the walls gave him some sort of outward perspective of the new world. He pretended to know whatever the hell Cubeism was as he passed by the next display. From behind his glasses, his eyes rolled. Deeply.
Every step he took was made with precision. Careful calculation. He was so good at faking interest that the thought of becoming an actor as a side gig made his pierced lips twitch considerably. He almost laughed at his own joke. See? He could be funny.
Jeongguk was in his element. Moving with perfect ease because today, he actually wasn’t even “Joonam Kim.”
Today, he was… A curator’s clipboard brushed past his elbow and interrupted the thought, “Sorry! Oh~! Mister–” The woman said quickly, glancing up at him.
Jeongguk tilted his head slightly. It was the smallest polite gesture he could manage. And without hesitation he answered with a different name entirely, “Jinseok Kim.” The words were clean. Busan accent hidden. No strain. As though the name always belonged to him. Even though the name belonged to yet another one of his men. Sorry not sorry.
Names were never real to The Haegeum Network.
At least not in the way people meant them.
Names were tools. Temporary labels stitched onto moving bodies so the world had something comfortable to call them before it forgot them all over again. “Joonam Kim. Jinseok Kim.” And four others before that. Each name was clean. Each one unremarkable. Carefully built and just as carefully erased.
Nothing about Haegeum was allowed to stick to outsiders. There could be no trace. No pattern. No repetition that could linger in a person’s brain before the thought could form. The names weren’t just aliases… they were dead ends.
The names were backstories that existed only long enough to pass a glance. I.Ds that wouldn’t survive a second verification. Credit histories that dissolved the moment someone tried to dig too deep. Paper trails that looped back to nothing. Digital footprints that scattered into contradictions the second they were followed.
Those false identities didn’t just hide Haegeum. They simply never existed outside the Network itself. That was the point. They didn’t use fake names the way others did. They rotated through them like revolving doors. One closing just as the next opened. All so that if someone thought they had found a pattern, they were already wrong by the time they noticed it.
And Gwishin himself and the rest of his members stayed untouched at the center of it all. In Haegeum’s world, being remembered was just another way of being tracked. And they had no intention of ever being found.
He gave a faint hum in response to the curator and just like that, Jinseok faded into nothingness. He made his way to the empty back row of the lecture room. Exactly how he liked it. It was an old habit that couldn’t seem to die.
From the back of the room, much like at The Seven Devils, Jeongguk could see every entrance and exit. Every face that walked into the room. From where he sat with his back pressed into the wooden chair he took a seat on, nobody could surprise him. Nobody could get behind him.
Years serving Haegeum had turned paranoia into instinct and it was a habit he didn't even think about anymore. He chose the seat because it gave him the best line of sight. His sunglasses stayed on. His leather jacket never came off. And a pair of strong arms folded across his wide chest while one ankle lifted to rest over the opposite knee.
He watched as the room slowly filled around him. Noticing a few familiar faces of people who never missed one of your lectures.
Soon enough the chatter softened. Then stopped. The doors opened one final time. And then you walked in. That was the only part of the day where Jeongguk’s resolve cracked slightly because suddenly, sitting through an hour of an art discussion didn't seem so unbearable after all.
His expression didn’t change. He still looked like another attendee waiting for the lecture to begin. Only Gwishin knew better. He wasn't here for the paintings. Or the lecture. Or even you. Not officially at least.
Jeongguk was here for the man that sat four rows ahead to his right. Dressed in a black suit. Gold watch on his wrist. Wedding band. Late forties. Handsome. Expensive. The sort of face that disappeared into a crowd by design.
His next target.
Jeongguk had memorized him months ago. His name. His routine. He had memorized the way the man always checked the calendar on his phone before putting it on silent. The way he favored his lower back when he sat down. He memorized the fancy car he drove. The way he always seemed to park right at the front of the gallery as if he owned it. The way the faint scar at the corner of his lower lip raised each time he smirked.
To anyone else, the man was just another attendee. But to Jeongguk? He was work.
A tattooed hand rubbed over his jaw as his gaze drifted over the room without ever settling too long on any one person. He noted the exits to his left and right. His target. The large bay window behind the front of the speaker’s podium. His target. The security cameras in the four corners of the room. His target. The fire escape doors all the way in the back. His target.
It was a rhythm. A dance. A habit. A life.
Throughout the gallery, life kept breathing. But in front of Ghost, the hunt had already begun.
The target never noticed him because Jeongguk simply looked like another man sitting through an art lecture the same reason why everyone else in the room did. He was invisible. Patient. Haunting.
When you walked up to the speaker’s podium you smiled at your audience as though this was just another afternoon. And that’s when Jeongguk's attention slipped yet again.
It was only for a second. But it slipped long enough to watch you set your binder full of notes onto the podium and then tuck a strand of loose hair behind your ear. The sharp eyes behind tinted sunglasses tracked your silhouette as you moved. His jaw flexed as his gaze drifted to the form fitting black dress stopping at your knees. Black blazer buttoned at the front. Black kitten heels. Sleek framed glasses perched on your nose. Hair pulled back in a neat knot at the back of your nape.
Professional. Fucking sexy.
Jeongguk caught himself immediately. He silently dared The Watcher to even utter a comment and luckily, nothing came through his earpiece. He refocused on the man in the black suit next. Eyes narrowing. Arms crossing. Knee bouncing rhythmically. Jaw flexing.
Work first. Always.
Even if the only person capable of distracting Gwishin had just walked into the room.
"Good afternoon, everyone." Your voice carried effortlessly through the lecture hall. The kind of voice that made people want to listen. The audience settled and the man in the suit crossed one leg over the other while he leaned back in his chair.
Jeongguk noticed the man’s intrigue on you faster than anything else. His eyes stayed on the back of his head. His target’s posture was relaxed and comfortable. Absolutely no awareness of his surroundings while The Ghost already clocked three escape routes the man would likely take if something happened.
The target had no idea he had been profiled before you had even introduced yourself.
You began speaking about the exhibition with the same enthusiasm you always did. Moving across the room with ease. Hands painting invisible pictures in the air as you spoke. People smiled. Some laughed. Others took notes. Jeongguk, on the other hand, tried not to yawn.
Even the target seemed interested in what you were talking about. But Jeongguk wasn't. His attention drifted between your voice and the man rows ahead. And every few minutes, the target checked his watch. Then he glanced toward the emergency exit. Finally, he discreetly texted someone with his phone between his legs.
Jeongguk filed each detail away. Then the man's phone vibrated again but this time, instead of reading the message, he looked up. He wasn’t looking at the painting behind you. Or at the presentation. He was looking at you. And his ogling strayed for a bit too long. Long enough for Jeongguk to notice. And long enough for the muscles in his jaw to tighten considerably. The target wasn't listening anymore. He was watching you.
Jeongguk's thumb brushed over the hidden lining of his leather jacket instinctively. Tattooed fingers running over where the weight of a pocket pistol sat. He didn't reach for the weapon. Didn't move. He simply watched the man because Haegeum had sent him here to study a target. Not to conduct business. Not to intervene.
However as the man continued staring at you instead of paying attention to the lecture, Jeongguk felt something murderous settle beneath the center of his chest. Was the staring professional curiosity? Personal interest? Or maybe both.
Either way… The lecture had just become a lot more interesting.
And as it dragged on, Jeongguk’s eyes never failed to leave the man’s profile. From what he gathered from his late nights of studying his targets at The Seven Devils, the man was a philanthropist according to every magazine that loved printing his face. He was a collector according to the museums that gladly accepted his money too. A generous patron of the arts if you will.
Haegeum knew a different man. This man was a broker. The kind who never got his own hands dirty. He bought and sold more than paintings. He bought information. Influence. People. Entire lives were negotiated over expensive alcohol and hushed conversations. He had spent decades hiding behind his fancy tailored suits and museum donations. Convincing the world he was preserving history.
But in reality, he was building an empire with blood money disguised as culture. Which was exactly why The Haegeum Network wanted him gone. It wasn’t going to happen today. Surely not in the gallery either. Today wasn't an execution. It was simply surveillance. Learning patterns and habits. Finding weaknesses.
Jeongguk wasn't here to kill the man. He was just here to learn how he lived because once Gwishin knew how a man lived, he already knew how he would die. It was just a matter of time. And the Ghost had plenty of that.
The lecture finally dissolved into the rhythm of an ending. Guests stood and drifted between the galleries in slow moving clusters. Some stopped to revisit paintings that had taken on new meaning after your talk. Questions hung in the air. Conversations overlapped. And the quiet museum transformed into a gentle hum of footsteps, laughter and thoughtful discussion.
You stayed near the front of the podium long after the lecture had ended. Answering every question with patience. Smiling for every guest who stopped to thank you and carrying yourself with the same effortless professionalism that had held the room's attention from the moment you began.
That was when the target made his move.
You didn't notice him at first. Why would you? There was a good hundred people attending the lecture alone. Nevertheless, he blended seamlessly into the handful of guests still waiting to speak with you. Offering a compliment about the lecture before asking a thoughtful question about an upcoming exhibition. And by the time the conversation drifted from your work to whether you would let him take you lunch today, he had already stepped comfortably into your space. Just a little too comfortably.
“You’re even more impressive in person.” The target complimented you, his voice lowering slightly, “I’d love to take you out to lunch. Somewhere quieter. I think you would be even more interesting outside all this… noise.” He waved with his hands.
Jeongguk was close enough to hear it all and somewhere in the middle of the conversation, he began to move too. It wasn’t abrupt. And not in a way that drew attention. He simply stepped away from the wall and threaded through the thinning crowd with an unhurried pace. His presence invisible by the movement of everyone else. Until he wasn't. Until he passed behind you. Close enough that the space around you seemed to narrow.
The faint scent of leather drifted by. Followed by a warmth that strayed for only a heartbeat before continuing on. It wasn't a touch but your body reacted anyway. And your words caught for the briefest moment. A strange sense of awareness washed over you. It was impossible to explain and it felt as though a ghost had just touched you.
By the time you glanced over your shoulder, there was nothing to see except another guest disappearing into the crowd. Strange… it felt like… You shook your head, eyes glancing down at the binder against your chest, scanning through the list of attendees. No Jeongguk. Of course not. He would rather die than be here. Still, you could feel his presence crawling through you even as you tried to shake it off.
Jeongguk didn’t look back but he heard your voice faint through the noise. Talking about lunch options with the target. You were so polite and unaware, wrapped up in an ease that didn’t match the tension he had just stepped through.
He adjusted his pace, already recalculating his next moves in his mind then he exited the hall without hesitation. Outside of the lecture hall where the glass walls of the gallery reflected the city back at him, he disappeared again, only this time circling around a hall to head straight toward your office upstairs.
He slipped past a pair of security guards in the middle of a conversation. His shoulders brushing one of them just enough to be mistaken for a passing guest. None of them reacted. No one ever did until it was too late anyway.
Jeongguk made his way to a side door marked STAFF ONLY that sat partly hidden behind a display. He twisted the doorknob and hummed to himself as it unlocked. Too easy. He pushed through it and let the gallery die behind him as he entered into a cold, empty stairwell.
And next, he was moving. Up a flight of stairs. Two and three steps at a time like always. Combat boots striking hard against metal edges. His breath steady. The kind of movement that looked reckless but wasn’t because it was Jeongguk.
In his ear, The Watcher’s voice returned quickly, “So lunch, huh? He really wants to die.”
Jeongguk didn’t slow. His hand gripped over the stairwell rail tight as he climbed the next flight, “Fuck off.” He muttered, “It’s nothing.” He huffed, “Just lunch.”
The Watcher hummed into his ear, “Your heart rate’s climbing.” He added, “Blood pressure’s rising to one thirty over ninety. You sure it’s nothing?” The Watcher snickered, “Better take a breath before you pop a blood vessel.”
Jeongguk took another flight two at a time. His hand grazing the railing just long enough to pivot faster, “You’re about to be out of a fucking job.” He huffed as he reached the floor where your office was. He quickly punched in the code to enter. 4 simple numbers. Yours and his anniversary date. It was easy enough to guess without needing The Watcher to tell him and he wasn’t even slightly surprised that you never changed it either.
Your office was eerily quiet. It felt wrong to be in there. But not wrong enough to Jeongguk since he closed the door behind him easily and made his way over to your desk as though he had done this dance far too many times for it to be a new routine.
He took a seat at your desk and scanned the room. He had been in here for other reasons before. Reasons you didn’t need to know about. The atmosphere was still the same. Boring. Plain. Professional. But the scent in the air was unmistakably you. It was like you spritzed your perfume in there before leaving. Jeongguk inhaled deeply. Letting the scent fill his lungs. He allowed himself those few moments to wrap himself in the sweet floral and vanilla scent that was you and then he was working.
Quick fingers were moving over your computer’s keyboard with efficient intrusion at once. Files opened and closed. Eyes scanning over any kind of new information that could give shape to the man who had been standing too close to you just a few minutes ago.
“This just got personal, didn’t it.” Said The Watcher through the earpiece and Jeongguk cursed him with a whisper while he scrolled through a file sheet filled with donation reports.
“Work isn’t personal.” Jeongguk mumbled although his blood boiled as the image of the man approaching you played in his mind, “I never mix work with my personal life.” He said as he clicked over a document and opened up another file.
The cursor hovered over the target’s name and Jeongguk highlighted the cell, eyes following the grid to the end where it showed the amount of money the man had donated to the gallery this year alone. It was all blood money under the guise of donations. The target was laundering cash into your gallery and you had no fucking idea.
At first, it was only work. It always started that way. But the man just couldn’t help himself, couldn’t he. Jeongguk didn’t need to be a fucking genius to know the intentions his target had.
Maybe the man asked you to lunch because he wanted to increase his donations. Maybe he wanted to fuck you. Jeongguk didn’t know or care. Either way, the man had to die so whether he flirted with you or not didn’t matter to him. It only made the thought of ending his life settle deeper into Jeongguk’s soul. The only thing that made him grit his teeth the most was that he just had to let it all fucking happen because he couldn’t unleash himself upon the man… yet.
The screen of your computer blinked at Jeongguk and he leaned back in the chair he had been sitting in. Exhaling through his nose and tilting his head to the side as he cracked his neck.
The Watcher’s voice hummed through his earpiece as casual as ever, “Yum. Peach iced tea… with a lemon wedge.” He noted, “Good choice.” He mused and Jeongguk could hear the click of his keyboard under fast fingertips, “Check outside the window on your west.”
Jeongguk was still staring at the computer screen but his attention was already elsewhere long before The Watcher had said anything. He stood up at once and the chair scraped across the floor. Echoing through the silence of the office as though the sound marked every single one of his twisted decisions.
He crossed the room without hurry. His footsteps quiet against the floor as he stopped by the window. Below the gallery and across the street, a posh upscale restaurant sat in full view. And you were there on the patio. Under the sun and in perfect view for Jeongguk to survey you with his unfortunate target.
The Watcher’s voice continued in his ear as amused as ever, “A bit too early to be drinking wine for our target, isn’t it? ” He said, “Although I guess it might be five o'clock somewhere…” He trailed off, “He’s not really drinking it. More just holding the glass like it’ll make him look more interesting.” He snorted, “Loser.”
Jeongguk’s gaze didn’t move. He watched from above. Barely making out your hand lifting your drink to your lips slightly as you spoke. His eyes strayed to the side, noticing the way the sunlight drifting in through the brushes of the trees lining the patio caught the colour of your hair and the side of your face before falling away again, “Keep watching and see if you can dial in to listen.” He instructed The Watcher.
“On it, boss.”
He watched the man with intensity. Surveying the scene as far as his eyes could see. He saw the grey specks of hair from his target and the way his body leaned in towards you more than necessary. Close enough that Jeongguk didn’t even need audio to know what was being said.
The Watcher provided it anyway, “Wow.” He commented dryly, “Yeah, so he just made it personal.”
Jeongguk didn’t ask what was said. He didn’t need to know.
The details weren’t the point anymore.
Only the direction things were heading mattered.
Dark eyes stayed locked on the space between you and the target then narrowed at the distance dwindling between the two of you. He observed the close comfort between two strangers that didn’t belong there. The assumption that nothing would interrupt it. He exhaled to himself, “Keep the feed on them.” He commanded without looking away from the window.
Jeongguk watched you both for a moment longer while measuring everything in silence. The office behind him faded from relevance entirely. Everything warped together into two bold points across the street. You. The target.
The Watcher’s voice cut in through the earpiece quietly, “Just remember,” He hummed, “Nothing happens before 봉인 (Bongin or The Seal) says it does.” He continued, his voice firm as though he was trying to stop Jeongguk from doing anything rash before it was time, “Gwishin doesn’t decide the moment. He waits for it.”
“I am waiting.” Jeongguk snapped as his stare sharpened through the glass anyway. He was patient. He had to be. His restraint was held together by his discipline alone. That didn’t mean the thought of how fast he could snipe his target right from where he stood didn’t cross his mind one or two times already, “It’s not a chase.” He stepped back from the window and turned towards the desk, “Just timing.”
The Watcher went quiet because whatever this was, it was already over in Jeongguk’s head.
“Get out of there soon.” The Watcher mumbled, “Unless you want her to come catch you. If that’s the case, kindly cut the line because I don’t want to see anything I haven’t already–”
He huffed with annoyance although it might even have been amusement because yes, there had been a time where The Watcher had dialed into Jeongguk’s surveillance feed without warning and had seen some very… suggestive things. Not that it was Jeongguk’s fault. The Watcher learned his lesson very quickly after that time anyways.
“Say less.” Jeongguk mumbled quickly and two fingers came up to the side of the sunglass frame. He brushed the discreet contact point near the temple of his sunglasses and the connection died instantly. The frames of his sunglasses flickered once and then Jeongguk’s view collapsed into static before finally fading into a normal tint.
He didn’t go back to the window after that. Instead, Jeongguk stayed at your desk. The files on your computer were already closed. The intel he needed stopped being useful. He had no other reason to be in your office but something about being in a space that belonged to you made it hard for him to just up and walk away.
And so, he browsed through your computer as he sat there. Maybe he was buying time. Who knows. His subconscious made him sit there because he knew deep down after lunch, you would make your way up to your office to work on admin things for the rest of the day. Much like you always did.
What you would think if you walked into your office and saw him there didn’t cross Jeongguk’s mind yet. Or perhaps the decision to wait in your office was already there before he even entered and he simply didn’t give a damn either.
He found it hard to move. And even harder to look away from your screen when he scrolled across a certain app that looked like your dating profile. Curiosity got the best of him and he opened it up, tongue poking into the side of his cheek with thought as he read the ‘about me’ section of the page.
“Looking for something real.”
Jeongguk rolled his eyes as he read the line. Something real. He huffed with irritation and continued to scroll.
The mouse cursor hovered over your profile pictures and he instantly clicked on the option to open them because if he were already here looking, he might as well investigate everything else while he was at it, right?
That was a justifiable excuse for invading your privacy, wasn’t it?
The photos were simple enough. Candid. Some off guard. Some selfies. Pretty ones. Pictures that reflected a life lived with adventure and happiness. A life he once shared with you.
“Why are you doing this?” He muttered to the empty room as he scrolled over to your newest matches and their messages. He opened every single conversation. Even the ones you hadn’t read yet. He didn’t give a fuck. Knowing that this profile would soon cease to exist in about five minutes anyway. Boring. Boring. Weird. More boring. He judged the conversations as he snorted to himself.
Men tried way too fucking hard. There was no need to be doing all that on a dating app. Especially when it looked like these conversations with you weren’t going anywhere. It was almost as though you entertained them with a certain intention but halfway through realized they weren’t worth your time. Or perhaps realized these chuds weren’t who you wanted.
With a shrug, Jeongguk moved the mouse cursor over to the corner of the screen where the privacy options for the application were. He hovered over the button to delete the account but he didn’t do it on his own because that would be too obvious. Instead, he reached for a phone in his back pocket and took it out, choosing a contact from his screen and pressing the phone to his ear.
There was one ring and a voice on the other end answered instantly. Then came Jeongguk’s voice in that same flat, disinterested tone, “Delete the account.” He mumbled into the phone, “Shut the fucking server down if you can too.” He added with a shrug.
No other words were exchanged. And on the other end of the call, there was only a quiet acknowledgement and then the line disconnected abruptly.
Jeongguk set the phone down and tilted his head back slightly, arms crossed over his chest with his eyes still on the screen to watch it all happen in real time. Some force from within the city took over the screen where he had left it behind and he watched as the screen stuttered for a moment before a series of codes filled the page. Layer by layer, the application and its function stopped existing entirely.
He knew having your dating profile and the entire application deleted wouldn’t resolve anything. If anything, it was proof of just how irrational he had become. He knew that. Accepted it, even. Yet somewhere along the way, his definition of reasonable had stopped resembling everyone else’s. In his mind, there had never been a world that existed where you belonged on a dating app. Not after him anyway. You didn’t need to be on those things when you had him.
The logic was impossible. Contradictory. And entirely his own. In Jeongguk’s fucked up head it fit together with perfect clarity. You would never understand it. You would call him obsessive. Possessive. Fucking unhinged. And you would be absolutely right about it all.
Jeongguk found he didn't particularly care though.
You could even call him insane. It changed nothing.
His sunglasses sat on top of your desk now. So did the earpiece. And Jeongguk’s gaze drifted over the space of your office now that his work was over. There was nothing personal in the space that anyone else would notice. Your office was a place built for work, not memory. There were files stacked neatly. Your computer was left idle. Everything intentional in its emptiness.
Except for the desk behind your chair.
When Jeongguk turned around, his eyes caught it immediately. There was a framed photo turned face-down. The edges of the frame were slightly dulled by dust that had started to settle into the corners. As though it hadn’t been touched in a long time. And as though it had been put there once and then abandoned in that position. As though you had decided it should no longer be seen but still deserved to remain in that space.
Jeongguk knew what the photo was of. It was taken a long time ago. With you sitting behind him on his bike, arms loosely around his waist. His head turned just enough in the shot to catch the edge of a smile he probably didn’t realize he was wearing. Your face half-hidden against his shoulder and your hair caught in the wind.
He still had the same picture and kept it somewhere he didn’t pretend not to know about.
The difference was that his wasn’t turned face-down.
Jeongguk’s eyes remained on the frame for a second longer. His expression disappeared as quickly as it had surfaced. Then he let the memory go just as the footsteps drew closer to your office door.
The door swung open next and you stepped inside without looking up from your phone. Your lips were at the straw of your iced tea. A tired sigh leaving your lips while you reached for the binder under your arm. Then you froze when you looked up, nearly dropping your purse, drink and the rest of your belongings from your grasp as your steps stuttered to a halt. Your breath caught in your throat so sharply it bordered on painful and you felt the shock all the way into your back.
Jeongguk stood near your desk as though he just happened to be in the neighbourhood and decided to stop by there. One hand tucked into the pocket of his jacket. The other on top of your chair’s headrest. The afternoon light shone into the room and outlined his silhouette. Making his shadow look freaking gigantic.
For a split second, you genuinely thought your heart had stopped and then you remembered to breathe, “What the fuck…” The words escaped your lips in a harsh whisper and your eyes darted back toward the doorway where your door was still half opened. Without thinking, you reached behind you and pulled the door shut quickly. The latch clicking softly into place before anyone passing by had the chance to glance inside.
Only then did you turn back to him, a hand at the center of your chest as you whispered, “What the actual fuck are you doing here?” You took a step closer, your voice strained with disbelief, “This floor is for staff only.”
Jeongguk simply watched you with that same infuriatingly calm stature that made you want to knock the sonic coins out of him. He stood there without saying a single word as though slipping into places he wasn't supposed to be in was no more remarkable than walking through the front door. Which, knowing Jeongguk… it probably wasn't.
His eyes drifted from your face to the takeout cup still clutched loosely in your hand, condensation sliding over the plastic from where you had carried it back upstairs making your fingers wet. The thought crossed his mind for a split second. Not even a second. Half a second. Your fingers in his mouth. He stomped the idea out faster than it formed and then he was stepping closer to you, a small smile tugging at the corner of his pierced lips,
"Was gonna take you to lunch." He hummed out thoughtfully, "But..." His eyes lingered on the drink for another second, "Looks like I missed my chance." He made a tch noise with his lips and shrugged, “Maybe another time.” He acted as though he simply noticed the cup in your hand. As though he were piecing the story together now.
Jeongguk almost hated how skilled he was at lying straight to your face.
You glanced down at the cup as though you had forgotten you were still holding it and something unreadable crossed Jeongguk's expression before it disappeared. His gaze returned to yours, giving away nothing. As if he hadn't known exactly where you had been. As if he hadn't watched you sitting outside on the patio. As if he hadn't stood at a window, daggered eyes shooting towards the man sitting next to you.
The lie rolled easily on his tongue. He hadn't come here to surprise you. He hadn't come to ask you to lunch. He had come looking for answers. The invitation was simply the prettier version of the ugly truth.
"Yeah, right. Take me to lunch. And the sky is green, Jeongguk." You rolled your eyes, “You don’t even eat lunch, lying moron.” You grumbled, clutching the cup a little tighter, "How did you even get in here?” You placed your things down onto your desk and sighed, rubbing at the back of your neck before looking around to see if anything had been touched, "If security catches you, they'll trespass you before you make it five feet down the hallway."
Jeongguk looked at you for a long moment and then he felt a strange feeling bubbling within his chest. Then he began to laugh. Hard. A genuine bark of amusement that escaped out of his lips before he could stop it. He sounded like he was mocking you. The kind of laugh someone let out after hearing something genuinely absurd. You glared at him. Eyes narrowing.
The idea of the gallery security catching him made him guffaw. That was a good laugh.
His smile stayed spread across his lips as he started moving towards you. Steps slow and nonchalant. Each step carrying the same high strung confidence (dick heavy) walk he had entered the building with, "Those goofs?” He said fondly. As if he were actually willing to entertain the challenge of getting caught, "Yeah… I think I'll survive."
You shot him an unimpressed look and your arms folded over your chest as he approached you, "I'm fucking serious, Gguk." You inhaled a labored breath as though him coming closer to you had you feeling overwhelmed already.
"Oh, I know you are, sweet pea." He stopped just in front of you, close enough that you had to tilt your head back slightly to keep his eye contact, "And I think that's adorable." He reached up and you felt the back of his fingers brush lightly over your cheek before you instantly whipped your head away from his touch.
Your glare deepened. His smile did too.
You stared at him with complete disbelief, your shoulders collapsing in mild defeat, "Who the fuck do you think you are?" You hissed, careful to keep your voice from carrying beyond the office door, "Showing up at my job unannounced? Again? Are you actually crazy?" You paused, “I don’t even know why I ask you that question anyway. You know what you are.”
Jeongguk didn't so much as flinch. Instead, the tip of his tongue stuck out to lick over the piercings on his lower lip before his teeth dragged over it, “I was tryna surprise you.” He mused, amused by your outrage more than intimidated by it.
You blinked at him several times before crossing to your chair to pull it out from the desk in one rough tug, "That's what you come up with to say?" You huffed, taking a seat and grabbing your mouse to check your computer.
Jeongguk gave you the smallest shrug as he walked over to your desk to lean against the edge of it right in front of you, almost blocking your view from the computer, "If I announced I was coming..." His gaze stayed on yours, big arms crossing over his wide chest, "It wouldn't have been much of a surprise, would it?"
You opened your mouth to argue but nothing came out because against all reason, his logic was internally consistent. Instead, you scoffed under your breath, "I don’t have time for this shit today." You spat, shaking your head as your fingers pressed against your temple.
"No?" He asked softly then he hummed in thought before continuing, "But you're still talking to me." The smile tugging at his lips only made you want to strangle him more, “If you want me to leave, just say the word.” He nodded, making no effort to get up. If anything, Jeongguk made himself more comfortable. Leaning back on his hands as he watched you click at absolutely nothing on your computer.
He leaned more against the edge of your desk then slid backwards until he was sitting on top of it properly. Completely at ease in a space where he had no right to be. He pushed aside a neatly stacked folder of documents as he made himself comfortable and your head lifted to glare at him as he sat there in the middle of your desk like rules were merely suggestions for him.
“I can’t work with you sitting there.” You deadpanned, staring at him with exhaustion. You were annoyed… slightly. Your eyes blazed in his direction for a long moment, waiting for him to realize he had overstayed his welcome.
He didn't.
That was always the problem with Jeongguk. He toted himself with this energy that felt like he could tell the exact distance between being unwanted and being tolerated. And he always seemed to know when he was closer to the latter.
You sighed out, "Leave." and then you turned back toward your computer. The word came out threatening. Convincing enough to you. You didn't look at the door. Nor did you stand up.
Jeongguk quietly noted down every single thing you didn't do.
A menacing smirk began to curl upwards along the corner of his lips. Not because he thought he had won but because he understood you better than you wanted him to. Yes, you were telling him to leave. But you were also sitting there letting the silence hang heavily between the two of you. Letting him stay.
Jeongguk pushed away from the desk slightly, just enough to make you think he might actually listen. And your eyes flickered over to him with hope filled in them. He smiled at you with that same snarky ass grin and then he sat back down, staying exactly where he was.
“Fucking asshole.” You grumbled to yourself and started typing along your keyboard. Eyes narrowing as you tried (and failed) to look busy. Eventually, your patience ran out and you pushed back from your chair with force.
Jeongguk didn’t move but his attention followed you the second you stood up.
You ignored him and crossed the room toward the shelves along the wall. Reaching between files and display pieces to find what you were looking for. Your movements were automatic. You were awful at pretending to not care about him being there if Jeongguk had to be honest.
This was your space. Your routine. Your life. And yet somehow, with the insufferable ass man you called your ex sitting there, it felt different. As though the room had warped to fit his presence. As if he was sucking all the air out of the very space you were standing in.
Behind you, you could feel his eyes following. Dark gaze tracking you in the way you were used to because you knew Jeongguk had always been observant. Always memorized details about you without meaning to.
You felt his fierce gaze drift downwards and land on your ass shamelessly and you almost whipped something at his head to have some sort of decorum. But you didn’t. Of course not.
You finally found what you were looking for and turned back around. That’s when Jeongguk stood up and trapped you against the corner of your desk before you could make it to your chair, “You look pretty today.” His gazed trailed over the dress you were wearing, “Very office siren.” He commented with a hum of approval, “So damn sexy.”
“God, shut up.” Your stomach betrayed your words by coiling tight within the very pit of your soul and you raised the file you had in your hands to hit him with it but Jeongguk snatched it away from you quickly, tossing it onto the desk with a careless thud, “Did you find what you needed on my computer?” You dared to lift your head to look up at him as his hands planted onto the sides of the desk on either side of you, “I know you snooped.”
“What’s there to find, baby?” Jeongguk purred the nickname out and you genuinely felt your head spin at the sound of his voice. His tattooed fingers thrummed over the front of your blazer before his fingertips danced up your sleeve, "You really think that little of me?"
You stared at him as the tips of his fingers brushed over your clothes. Still, his touch raised goosebumps along your body and you could only thank the heavens that he couldn’t see your bare skin right now.
His voice was low and his head tilted to the side as he tried to look pitiful, “You don’t trust me?” He pressed further and he crowded over you as though he owned you and the space he took up. His pelvis nudged up against yours, pinning you flush to the edge of the desk as he peered down at you with his terrorizing height.
Jeongguk never looked guilty when he was caught. He looked like he had already thought about every possible outcome of being caught and decided none of them bothered him one bit.
The fucking nerve of this man. After everything he put you through. The secrets. The disappearing acts. The way he always seemed to know things he shouldn't, he stood there asking you that. Asking you if you trusted him. As if trust was something simple. As if it was something he hadn't spent years making complicated all on his own.
“Not at all.” You nodded sternly although your voice came out shaken as the familiarity of Jeongguk snatching the space between you both nearly suffocated you. You felt the outline of what he was packing in those snug fitting jeans of his rubbing up against the front of your dress and you swallowed the lump of lust forming in your throat thickly. Lord, he was big.
The size difference between you and Jeongguk had always been impossible to ignore. He was just... bigger. Not just in height alone, but in presence. Standing nearly underneath him made you realize how much space he naturally occupied. Giant shoulders. A solid frame. The kind of build that made every doorway and hallway seem significantly smaller when he walked through them.
You, on the other hand, could stand your ground all you wanted. And you fought tooth and nail to but next to him, the contrast was strikingly obvious. It wasn’t just that he towered over you. It was the way he seemed immovable. As if he were a brick wall that suddenly learned how to walk.
And the most irritating part was that Jeongguk knew exactly what effect his size had on you. His aura alone was enough to remind you that beneath the teasing and the utter cockiness was someone who had always been far more difficult to push away than you wanted to admit.
The first thing you noticed was the strong angles of his face as you stared up at him. Next was his scent. Leather. Distinct and recognizable. An unmistakable scent he carried with him in the same way it always had.
It pulled you back to the end of the lecture. The brief moment when he had passed close enough for your senses to catch it before your mind did. The same trace of leather. The same presence you had dismissed as a stranger at the time.
"Wait." You breathed, "Were you there?"
Jeongguk hummed out in question, "Where?"
"The lecture."
The pause only lasted for less than a breath and then Jeongguk casually said, "Nope."
You knew there was no chance Jeongguk had willingly sat through an hour-long discussion about art theory unless there was a reason and you shook your head as if the idea of seeing him sitting in your lecture was preposterous even to you, "Right. Forgot you hate those lectures."
"I do."
The bluntness of the response made you scoff, "Okay? That's kind of rude."
"I didn't say I hated hearing you talk." The way Jeongguk looked at you when he said the words made them feel like anything but, “I just said I hate the lectures.”
The teasing expression spread across his face faded slightly. Replaced by something earnest. More deliberate. As though for once in his life, he wasn't trying to provoke you or win an argument. As though he was just saying something he had been thinking.
Chocolate coloured eyes stayed on yours. Steady and unbreaking. The look in his eyes made it difficult to tell whether he was being honest or whether he had simply always been better at hiding what he felt.
Jeongguk could dismiss anything without hesitation. He could call things boring. Pointless. A waste of time. However, when it came to you, his rules always seemed to bend just a little.
If you knew he sat through that lecture, you would never let him live it down because in all honesty, the lecture could have lasted hours. The topic could have been something he never gave a shit about. None of it would have mattered because you were the one speaking. And Jeongguk would gladly sit for hours listening to you speak about blah, blah, blah if that meant he could listen to you talk.
“You know I’m not into that shit, angel.” He nodded, hands reaching out towards you, landing on your waist as you stood braced against the desk, “I’m into this dress though.” He purred out with interest as his fingers drifted down your sides to your hips, “Think it would look even better on my bedroom floor.” He looked down at you and smiled, “Agree?”
That stupidly wicked smile flashed and you felt your insides twist from it. The way pink lips stretched over white teeth. Piercings glistening. His face serving as a silent invitation for you to take a seat on it. God, you wanted to do that so bad.
You really tried and failed at not reacting when Jeongguk looked you over. You felt as though you were the art on display under his gaze. It was dark. Tracking every inch of you as though he could see through your clothes, “Disagree.” You deadpanned although you tried to squeeze your thighs together without him noticing but who were you kidding. Of course, he noticed and it only made the smile curl wider along his lips.
“Come over to my place tonight.” Jeongguk whispered, hands trailing up your sides, firm palms squeezing over each side of your waist in a way that made your heart rate lurch a hundred beats forward, “Stay the night. Haven’t slept with you in my arms in forever.” He confessed which made you let out a small snicker despite the shivers running up your spine from his touch.
You placed a hand on the solid mass that was his chest. Pushing at him lightly to get him away from you but there wasn’t any use. His body was stronger than a brick. All muscle. All man. “Mm.. sounds like someone misses me.” You hummed out, loving the desperate whisper of Jeongguk’s voice.
“Damn right.” He nodded shamelessly, “I can admit that.” His voice sounded like a strum when he spoke, “But can you say the same?” He reached up with his tattooed hand and brushed a stray piece of hair from your face, tucking the lock behind your ear so that he could see you better, “Can’t you say you missed me at all?” He almost pleaded.
Something about a big ass man like Jeongguk nearly begging you to admit you missed him struck a fire within your stomach. You knew denying him everything you felt would only lead you down a darker path that you couldn’t find your way out of with him. But did you want to change? Well, your answer to his question sufficed enough,
“No.” You smiled cheekily up at him. Wearing the most fucked out look in your eyes despite not even being fucked (yet). Yeah, you were already so far gone and nothing had even happened.
You knew Jeongguk had never been good at pretending he was satisfied with half measures. Yes, you both had dinner together here and there. Sharing a few hours stolen from the rest of the world. Having conversations that lasted longer than either of you intended. Followed by the inevitable moment where you would kick him out of your apartment before anything progressed.
He didn’t put up a fight. Didn’t try to stay. He gave you the space you deserved. It was progress. But it was never enough because he had missed more than just a meal. More than just a conversation. He had missed normalcy. He missed you.
Nothing about the two of you was normal anymore though. Jeongguk knew that. But was it wrong for him to want more time with you? Not because dinner wasn't enough. But because leaving afterward never felt like enough.
But you were tired of his games. Tired of his hollow and empty promises.
Spending time with Jeongguk felt as though you were always one step away from your relationship becoming real again, only for it to slip away through your fingers because while you wanted him to choose you, he wanted to trap you.
Jeongguk wanted more than just your relationship. He wanted you to be his puppet again. And you wanted him to just stop acting like you were something he could cage and keep locked away. You had every advantage at your fingertips to rid him of you for good. All you had to do was say the word.
So what the fuck were you two doing, really? You either wanted each other or you didn’t. But what if you wanted the idea of each other? The good parts of each other? What if you wanted the parts of each other that weren't jealousy and possession? Could you put your finger on the map that was your dynamic and figure out where to go next?
You were caught somewhere between two impossible truths. One part of you wanted Jeongguk with every fibre of your being. Wanted the Jeongguk that showed up at your door with flowers and chocolate. The Jeongguk who could make you laugh when you were trying your hardest not to.
The other part of you wanted him gone. Wanted the peace you had fought to build without him. Wanted the quiet that came from not constantly wondering what he wasn't telling you. Wanted to stop feeling like loving him meant standing in the middle of a lightning strike.
Everyone was rooting for you to take him back but taking him back meant taking all of him. The good. The bad. The demons he carried like they were old friends. The skeletons in his closet he buried so deeply that sometimes you wondered if even he knew where they ended and he began.
You could love someone and still be afraid of everything that came with them. And Jeongguk was well aware of that. The issue wasn’t that you didn't want him. It was whether wanting him meant accepting the heavy baggage that came with him too. And you just weren't sure anymore if your heart could survive another time of loving him at the cost of yourself.
If he wanted to choose you, you were here. Waiting for him with arms wide open. But he had to prove to you he was just choosing you. And showing up unannounced to your office today was setting him all the way back to where he first started.
But when he leaned down to you like he did right now. Closing the space between you both as though it were as easy as pie. When his lips brushed over your own parted ones as though you were just waiting for him to do just that. When he finally pressed his lips against your own as if the action were simply a natural exchange shared between the two of you… You wondered if you were just keeping up with this charade because you were scared of being hurt again.
Or if you were just as fucked up as he was and loved the danger that came with being someone as unhinged as Jeongguk.
Did your crazy match his crazy?
The thought lingered long before you were aware of your actions. Wrapping around your brain like a thorned vine as you melted into his touch and kissed him back almost instantly.
The movements were slow and patient. Which was contradicting because you both kissed as if you didn’t have a pile of paperwork to sift through. As though you didn’t have a job to do. As though anyone could have walked into your office right at this second. Everything was forgotten when your lips met. His lips soft and sickeningly sweet in the worst way possible.
Your hands pressed against his chest once more but not to push him away this time. Instead, you let the tips of your acrylics curl into the tight shirt he wore under his leather jacket. Your nails running languidly over every dip of his pec muscles before tracing downwards until they were counting over each set of rock hard abs lining his torso as though he were a Greek God and not your dreadful ex slash cold blooded assassin.
God, you missed him too. Missed feeling those lips tracing every inch of you. Missed the way he would eat you up like a starving man. Missed his perfect body. You made a point to never kiss him goodbye or let him have more than a pat on his shoulder each evening he came over to spend those fleeting hours with you because you knew what it would do to you if you let him get closer than an arms length.
And you ached every single time you kicked him out of your place before the night turned into something more. But now that his lips were on yours, the question on how you managed to survive saying goodbye to him every night without feeling any part of him on your body ran through your head over and over.
He tasted like cigarettes and cherry lip balm. You tasted like peaches and lemon. You wanted to push him away but instead, your hands over his abdomen only moved to pull him closer by the flaps of his leather jacket. Letting the fading scent of smoke, leather and motor oil seep into your senses.
“You know I can’t stay away from you even if I tried.” Jeongguk murmured against your lips, “Even if I don’t want to.” He exhaled into your mouth, “Because fuck knows I want to. I want to leave you alone. Give you all the space you need. But I just fuckin’ can’t.” He breathed, your foreheads bumping against each other as his nose brushed yours, “I hate myself for it.”
Your fingers curled into the leather of his jacket and you had to block the words he was saying from reaching your heart because if you let those walls down, he would invade you and then there would be no going back. Instead, you bit over his lower lip and dragged it back between your teeth. Earning a low groan from Jeongguk’s lips,
“Then act normal.” You whispered back to him, “Start with not breaking into my office uninvited.” You said all this while your hands reached up to smooth through his hair, a hand resting against the back of his head to pull him into you only for him to deepen the kiss.
He licked over your lower lip and your lips parted for him. Your tongues touched and you heard him let out a soft noise. It sounded like a whine and you hated how fast your core throbbed at the sound. You both lazily let your tongues explore each other and then as he broke away from your lips, he whispered with a jagged breath, a string of spit hanging between your lips, “I just want you so bad.” He gazed down at you with smoldering eyes, “In every way.” He whispered, dark eyes devouring your very existence with just a look.
“Lord. Fuck. Shut up and stop talking.” You spat out quickly, stealing a glance up at him with a flushed face. You felt a full body shiver go right through you as you stared into his eyes. You felt dizzy and there was a throb between your thighs you simply couldn’t ignore any longer.
Jeongguk had his eyes on the sheen of spit on your lips and then his trance fixed on the blush on your cheeks before he tilted his head to the side with question,
“Why? Am I making you wet?” He asked with a smile.
“Drying up as we speak actually.” You lied. Painfully.
“Yeah?” He mused, “Can I check?”
“No. Cuz there’s nothing to see. Trust me.” You lied through your teeth as your feet planted firmly on the ground where you stood, “But if you can move me, sure.” Despite grounding yourself to the floor of your office like a pillar, you could feel the wobble of your knees and you knew with just one easy move, Jungkook could flip you around like a pancake and do anything he wanted.
And that he did. One hand landed roughly against your hip and the other reached around to rest along your lower back, spinning you around in one quick maneuver and pressing the front of your body up against your desk, making your hands fly out on top of the surface to catch yourself from planting face first into it,
“That was too easy.” He cooed out triumphantly, “You sure there’s nothing to see?” He asked, eyes glancing at you as you turned your head to gawk in shock at him, “Speak.” He instructed you, “Tell me the truth, honey. I’m giving you the chance because I’m a good man.”
You gasped as he manhandled you as though he could pick you up and snap you like a twig. The air punched out of your lungs and you lost your balance at once. Pathetically letting him push you downwards onto the desk with one large hand pressing against back of your head while the other traced along the hem of your dress only to hike it up slowly,
“Good man.” You puffed out an exhale and laughed in disbelief, struggling to turn your head to look at him, “Nothing about you is good.” You mumbled into the desk, fingers curled under the wood of it while you tried not to raise your ass up as Jeongguk leaned down to press his chest against your back to hold you still, his groin digging into the bare skin along the backs of your thighs while his knee pushed between your thighs easily to spread them apart,
The graze of your heels skidding across the floor as Jeongguk shoved your legs apart with his knee echoed through the office and you genuinely wanted to die at how loud it sounded. If anyone was outside the door right now, they could easily hear everything else. Your stomach twisted with excitement at that and then you had to remind yourself that you weren’t going to fold this easily.
You weren’t going to give in. Weren’t going to let him have you that easily. Weren’t going to… oh fuck…. But Jeongguk’s pierced lips were at the shell of your ear now. Kissing over the dangly earrings you were wearing today. Warm lips moving from your ear to the side of your neck. Trailing heated kisses against your soft skin. Making your eyelids droop and head lull back to give him more space to run those smooth lips along your jugular.
Sweet nothings spilled from his lips with ease. Telling you how much he wanted you. How bad he missed you. Whispering next about something heinous that only made your thoughts cloud from the obscenities spilling out his mouth.
Large hands roamed around your body. Grabbing and massaging over every inch of you. Squeezing over your breasts. Your hips. Your ass. Complementing the shape of your body. Your curves that fit like a puzzle into him. How perfect you were. How much he wanted you to the point where he couldn’t breathe right.
And you listened to it all. Listened because he was speaking the damn truth.
What weren’t you going to do again?
“I’m gonna ignore you and give you what you want now.” Jeongguk said lastly, his nose grazing over your temple as he pushed your dress up to your waist with one hand. One large palm splaying over the curve over your ass as the dress exposed you, “Mmm. I bought you these.” He commented on the black panties you were wearing, giving the tender flesh of your ass a firm squeeze, “The fortune I’ve spent on you yet you still treat me like shit.” He cursed, tattooed fingers now playing with the waistband of your panties, “Ungrateful fucking woman.” The words came out like venom and your ears burned with shame because you fucking loved it. Sick.
“Treat you like shit?” You laughed into the desk, trying to move so that you could send a death glare over to his direction but it was no use. He was covering over you like the heaviest weighted blanket in the entire world. Your chest heaved against the wood you were pinned to and you could feel the heat pricking along your skin as his hands roamed with free will over your bare skin,
“You disappear when it suits you. Lie to my fucking face. Break into my office.” You shook your head, “Maybe I treat you like shit because you keep giving me reasons to.” You argued back with a fleeting moment of confidence and then your lips clamped shut and jaw clenched at once as you felt him pressing his fingertips up against the warmth over your panties.
Your vision blurred at the feeling. His touch ghosted over you. Barely there but still feeling heavy at the same time. You knew you were soaking through your underwear already and you silently cursed your body for betraying you. You sucked in a deep breath when you felt the digits press up against the dampness already there and you felt the smirk along Jeongguk’s pierced lip as he pulled away from you only to wrench your panties to the side.
“Shut up.” Jeongguk spat the command out and you knew you struck a chord at that. Good.
You celebrated the victorious moment of pushing his buttons. The victory reigned only for a split second though before you felt the familiar intrusion of his fingertips running over your folds from behind. A weak whine escaped your parted lips at that and Jeongguk huffed, his movements halting at once, “You’re gonna stay quiet for me, yeah?” He murmured gruffly and didn’t move until you verbally agreed to hush your mouth.
“Fuck.” Your forehead thumped against the top of your desk and your eyes squeezed shut, face burning with pride before you finally blew out a frustrated breath and nodded submissively, “Y-Yes.” You whimpered, your waist unconsciously pushing back against Jeongguk’s fingers.
“Mmm.” Jeongguk hummed out proudly, “I know you’re only being like this because you missed me too. You’re just too fuckin’ stubborn to admit it. But it's okay.” He crooned mockingly, “Let me take care of you now, my love.” His voice dropped to a sweet octave despite the curses he was slewing earlier, “Don’t you want me to touch you?” He asked, fingers running over your dripping folds and a hasty breath leaving his lips,
“Poor little thing. So wet because of me.” He tutted, “Lying to yourself for what?” Two fingers pushed at your entrance at that, stretching you apart just from the width of his fingers alone, “Lying to me for what?” A low groan escaped his throat, fingers pushing and curling into you.
You could hear the squelch of your wetness when his tatted digits pushed into you and it should have embarrassed you but instead, you rocked backwards at once. Hands gripping over each side of your desk as your head raised to tip back.
Fuck, you hated what he did to you. Hated how fast your body reacted to his attention. You wanted to slap yourself and scream to get a fucking grip. But it was so fucking hard to resist him. He knew you inside out. Knew just what to do to make you crave him even though he wasn’t good for you.
A soft moan left your lips feeling those skilled fingers inside of your tight walls. The moan was a fucking accident. You didn’t mean to but how couldn’t you when this man was on you the way he was? Your body felt like it had been lit on fire and all you could do was just feel.
That’s when you felt a strong arm wrap around the front of your chest to haul you up off the desk, keeping your back arched as his large palm clasped over your mouth at once, holding you in place while his fingers worked their magic in you at the same time, “Gonna get yourself fucking caught.” Jeongguk grumbled against the side of your head, “Want people to see you like this? Slutted out with my fingers in you?” He painted the picture of your coworkers having their own exhibition of the two of you and you could only shake your head weakly with his hand over your lips.
The response made Jeongguk let out a soft chuckle, “Thought so. That wouldn’t be so professional of you, would it?” He murmured, pulling his fingers out of you only to reach lower between your thighs to press his sopping fingers up against your swollen clit, “What would they think of you if they saw?” He gently rubbed circles over the bundle of nerves and your lips trembled against his fingers clamped tight over your mouth in response, “Yeah. Exactly.” He answered although you couldn’t speak but the terror and mild excitement of being caught shining in your eyes was enough for him.
Your body writhed in response to his touch. He didn’t relent. Continuing to move his fingers skillfully along you. You couldn’t make noise but you could bite. And so, your teeth sunk into the palm of his hand. Digging hard into his flesh. Which only made Jeongguk grunt out softly with approval from the pain. You whimpered against his skin next and Jeongguk removed his hand from over your mouth to let you breathe,
“Fucking hell.” You whispered when you were freed and inhaled a sharp breath then leaned down to rest against the desk as Jeongguk pushed you back down only for him to drop onto his knees behind you, making your legs spread wider as he reached up towards your panties and grabbed them by the waistband to pull them down to your ankles,
“Fuck. Wh–” You could hardly speak, “What are you doing?” You breathed out, hands on top of the desk curling into the wood. You were too spent to lift your head to look anymore instead, you just… felt.
“Teaching you how to be fucking grateful.” Jeongguk drawled out as he pushed your asscheeks apart and buried his face into you without warning. His tongue gliding between your folds in one hot, languid motion.
Your vision went white and your back instantly arched for more. Body jolting. His nose pressed into you while his tongue lapped at you from behind, hands over your ass kneading and squeezing painfully at the flesh,
“Taste so fucking good.” He nearly growled as he pulled back and that’s when you felt him spitting over your pussy. You could feel the saliva drip downwards and you whined pathetically from it, unable to hold your body still, “Then you wonder why I’m fucking crazy about you.” He whispered then he was back where you needed him to be the most, sucking over your dripping heat as though he were trying to drink your juices up.
Your head flopped down to rest over your forearms and your nails scratched over your desktop. Small whimpers falling out from your lips and getting muffled by the surface of the desk. You could feel the drool slipping out of your mouth and pooling into a little puddle along the wood as you let him devour you from behind. Whatever the hell he was doing with his mouth right now was sending you closer and closer to the edge and you couldn’t even make a single peep to let him know how good he made you feel.
The pads of his fingers dug into your asscheeks to spread you wider and you swore you wouldn’t be able to sit down for the next three business days after he let go of you from the grip he had. Your body went into a permanent jello state. Pliant. Wobbling and unsteady as you tried to fight the coils tightening within the pit of your stomach.
“Apologize.” Jeongguk commanded as he pulled back suddenly.
You almost cried from the loss of feeling and only then did you dare to turn to look over your shoulder at the man on his knees behind you. His eyes were blown. Fucked out just eating you out alone. Lips glossy and red. Hair a dishevelled mess. Chest heaving. Gaze locked on you like a fucking demon,
“Say sorry for being ungrateful.” Jeongguk nodded, hands roaming down from your ass to your thighs, nails scraping over you and making you whimper before he slowly rose to his feet, the back of his hand wiping over his mouth.
You twisted around finally and swallowed hard because suddenly having to apologize to this insolent man made you want to jump out of the nearest window. Jeongguk didn’t relent though. Instead, he smiled. That fucking ridiculous smile he did when he knew he had you right he wanted you to be. Wrapped around his finger. Or his mouth, actually.
“You’ve lost your entire mind.” You breathed hard, struggling to stand up straight from the ravaging. You were so close before. So close to gushing onto his tongue. And now with every weak movement you made, it felt like you were going to explode with no contact at all.
You dragged yourself up onto the desk to sit there, taking a moment to gather yourself. You could feel your heart thumping wildly in your chest. Hair falling out of the once neat bun it was tied in. Glasses almost at the end of your nose. Beads of sweat lining your hairline. Eyes unfocused. Clit throbbing with the need for attention. Panties still hooked carelessly around your ankles.
You only needed a second. A second to collect your thoughts so you could kick this man out of your office for not letting you come but it was a second too late because Jeongguk was already over you. Standing between your spent knees and pulling you to the very edge of the desk by your legs before you could even get your clothing fixed back into place.
“Say sorry and I’ll fuck you.” He nodded, “Isn’t that a good compromise?” He tilted his head as though his offer was the most reasonable thing in the world.
You would rather the earth break open and suck you into hell than apologize. The very thought of saying sorry for being a human with feelings was humiliating. Saying sorry because he invaded your space yet again like he owned you? Fuck right off, Jeon Jeongguk. Go to fucking hell.
You wished you had a gun to shoot yourself instead.
Apologizing so he could dick you down?
Absolutely fucking no–
“Sorry.” You whispered quickly, “I’m sorry.” You said again. The shame and humiliation burned on your face like fire but Jeongguk wasted no time in letting you dwell on that because next thing you knew, he had his fingers over the buckle of his belt. Eyes on your own as he undid his jeans and inched them down next just enough for the 1,2,3,4,5,6,7 whole ass inches of his dick to swing out and bounce heavily as though it simply couldn’t wait for this moment just like you.
“See? That’s all you had to do.” Jeongguk teased, one hand hooking under your thigh to raise it up and wrap it around his waist. The panties stuck around your ankles slipped when he lifted your thigh only for the fabric to dangle carelessly off your other foot instead as you leaned back on your elbows and stared up at him with glossy eyes and wordless lips.
Jeongguk tugged you closer to him, one hand wrapping around the base of his length as he slapped the tip of his precum pooled dick up against your clit at once, dragging the precum over your clit and between your folds until he was pressing up against the tight heat of your entrance.
Again, a fucking miserable and nearly borderline embarrassing whimper escaped you from the feeling and the sounds filled the four walls of your office. Lord, the sounds. Wet wasn’t even a word to describe you anymore. You were practically leaking. Soaking. Gushing. You had to bite your tongue at once to stop any more noises leaving your lips when Jeongguk’s gaze snapped to look at you with a silent warning to stay quiet.
“Was that so hard, darling?” His voice was thick and laced with pure honey as he continued dragging his length over your bundle of nerves then barely dipping the tip of his cock into you. Teasing you. Dragging it out to bring you to the brink of insanity.
You could barely keep your eyes open let alone answer as you watched him bend his head next and let his spit trickle out of his red lips. Making it land right where the head of his dick and your entry met.
“You won’t do it again, right?” He asked after, guiding himself to dip into your entrance once more. The nasty wet sound filling your ears and making your eyelids flutter, “You’ll be a good girl from now on, yeah?” He pushed his cock past your ring of tightness as he inched into you and cursed quietly from the feeling of your walls instantly gripping him.
Your vision hazed almost immediately at the feeling. Lips pressing together tight to stop yourself from letting out the strangled cry that threatened to break free from your throat. No surface was strong enough for you to grab onto to brace yourself from the pleasure crawling over your skin already.
You grabbed onto the leather of his jacket with one hand for support. The other landing on top of the desk to hold onto the edge of it tight enough to turn your knuckles white, “F…Fuck.. Yes.. I’m sorry.. I’m fucking sorry… I’ll be a good girl. I promise.” You nearly sobbed, “Please just fuck me.” You begged, knowing how much it turned him on when he turned you into a pleading mess.
The power of having you spread wide on top of your desk under Jeongguk’s command in your very office shouldn’t have turned him on the way it did. It was kind of twisted how much his dick throbbed at the feeling of having you like this. With your lipstick smeared. Drool spilling out from the corners of your mouth. Glasses shifted and lenses fogged up from the heat shared between you two. Tears stuck to your lashes already and he wasn’t even all the way inside of you yet. It was so fucking sexy. And he felt like a king because of it.
“That’s my girl.” Jeongguk praised, words slurring while he raised your thigh higher when it threatened to drop from around his waist, “And you’re gonna let me come see you here whenever I fucking want, right?” He asked as the rest of his length sunk into you, filling you up entirely and stretching you apart, “Gonna let me do whatever the fuck I want?” His sexy Busan accent slipped out from his lips as he started to thrust, barely giving you time to adjust.
You let out a pitiful whine and nodded sharply, struggling to form a breath let alone coherent words, “Anything you want.” You managed to respond and then he was thrusting. Making slow, deliberate plunges in and out of you. Dragging his length against your walls so slow you could practically feel the veins along his girth throbbing.
“That’s right.” Jeongguk mused with satisfaction, “Anything I fuckin’ want.” He nodded quickly, freehand reaching down to you for his fingers to clasp under your chin and wrap around your throat. Forcing you to raise your head and look into his eyes as his thumb and index finger on either side of your neck squeezed along those two points to constrict your breathing just a bit. Timing his thrusts to hit right after he squeezed at your throat.
Only he could do this. Only he knew just what to do to make you feel him everywhere all at once. He was so fucking good at making your body arch and shake. How could you ever stay away from this?
The magical curve of his length touched the sweet spot inside of you along with your breaths constricting instantly had you almost black out from the feeling, “Fuck– right there. Yes.” You whispered, “Feels so good.” You babbled, reaching up to hold onto his wrist where he held you by the throat, “More, baby.” You pleaded, nails digging into his skin to make him increase the pressure on your neck more but not to totally stop you from breathing.
He didn’t crush your windpipe. Only squeezed under your jaw lightly to make it the oxygen drain from your lungs and brain just enough, “So fucking good.” You nodded mindlessly and slurred the words out. Drunk on lust and Jeongguk. Your wrist twisted the material of his jacket and you pulled him closer, making him fuck you deeper.
He let go of your neck and grabbed your hand that was wrapped into his jacket to bring your fingers to his mouth, wrapping his wet lips around your index and middle fingers to suck over them. He coated the digits with his saliva. Taking his time. Making you watch him with blown pupils. Making it sloppy just the way he liked. And then he released them with a lewd pop before saying, “Touch yourself for me.”
Weakly you reached down between the two of you and pressed your two fingers up against your throbbing clit at Jeongguk’s instruction. Dragging them over the bud slowly before gasping softly. Your toes curled and your walls squeezed at his length. You were so sensitive. And you knew it wouldn’t take much to come if you continued this way.
Jeongguk waited for you to move your fingers and you both locked gazes as you began to rub circles around your clit. Your chest felt as though it were about to cave in on itself and you shook your head quickly as he began to thrust again. The feeling was too much. You had barely touched yourself and you were already seeing white.
A small cry broke free from you and your head dropped back, glasses sliding backwards off your face in a careless fashion and falling onto the desk with a clatter as you started to tremble, “I’m– Fuck. Please. Please.” You didn’t even know what you were begging for. You just didn’t want him to stop. You were teetering on the edge. Feeling the intense pressure building up higher, higher and higher and then you were unraveling right before Jeongguk’s eyes.
“My pretty girl.” Jeongguk rasped, hips snapping up to fuck you through the orgasm unleashing through you powerfully, “Fuck, I can feel you creaming all over my dick.” You only whined ridiculously in response while he cooed out to you sweetly, “I know, doll. I know. Feels too good, huh?” He hummed with approval, a proud smile flashing over his lips,
“Let me fill you up, kay’?” The words spilling from his lips started to stutter along with the rhythm of his thrusts. It was like watching you come took him right to the edge and pushed him off faster than fucking you ever could, “Fuck, gonna fill this pretty pussy up.” He swore, burying his dick all the way into you with one more brutal thrust and then he was emptying himself into you with a harsh hiss followed by a deep groan.
You were floating on a cloud. Barely registering anything except the sync of Jeongguk’s waist moving in you. You felt his grip around your thigh tighten and then he slammed his length into you. Rocking his hips in a circle. And finally you felt the heat of him spurting his release into you. Filling you up just like he promised.
You thanked him like the cock hungry slut you were. Eyes rolling back to a close as you relished in the feeling before he pulled out of you at once and left you empty. Making you let out a tiny whimper from the loss of feeling him inside of you.
Meanwhile Jeongguk looked like he had barely broken a sweat. If it weren’t for his unbuttoned jeans that he already tucked his dick back into, you would have never known he just fucked the life out of you. His leather jacket was fitted perfectly back into place. Tight compression shirt smoothed down and stuck to his abdomen. Hair pushed back into its rightful place. And he was already collecting his sunglasses and earpiece where he had left it on your desk, pushing the earpiece into the back of his jeans and taking his phone out to check it.
“Feel better now?” He asked with a hum of interest, stuffing his phone into his pocket as he stood in front of you. Funny that he was trying to sound casual as if he didn’t just make you forget your full government name just a few seconds ago, “Next time, just say you missed me. It’ll make it easier for both of us.” He chided although there was the faintest hint of a smile along his lips as he buckled his belt.
“Well, um.” You slowly sat up in a daze, “So…” You shook your head and gingerly slid off the desk. Landing on your feet and fixing them back into your heels that had almost slid off, “Okay...” You finally breathed out with a loss for words, leaning down to pull your underwear back on clumsily.
Your hands were shaking from the aftershock still. You wanted to say you felt like a new person, really but you knew that would only make Jeongguk’s already giant head swell more. So, you sighed out tiredly and fixed your clothes. Picking up your glasses that had toppled off your face. You placed the lenses on top of your head and circled around the desk slowly. Grabbing a tissue from the box near your computer to wipe away his release that had already begun to trickle down the inside of your leg.
“You good?” He asked as he watched you struggle to pull yourself together but he made no effort to help because the view of you shakily fixing your appearance made him ecstatic.
You ignored him and wordlessly balled up the tissue then tossed it into the trash before wobbling on weak knees to your desk chair. You plopped down with a sigh and grabbed your compact mirror, opening it to look at your reflection. Immediately beginning to wipe under your eyes and the corners of your lips where your makeup had smeared.
Jeongguk's eyes drifted to the watch face on his inner wrist and a quiet exhale left him.
Almost six.
He made his way over to wear you sat and he leaned against the edge of the desk, reaching out to cup your face with both his hands. Making you tear your attention away from the mirror in your hands as he lifted your head up to look into his eyes when he gazed down at you, “You alright, baby?” He asked, thumbs swiping across your cheeks where your tears had stained your skin,
“I’m okay.” You nodded, staring up at his face. His expression was unreadable. But his eyes held a warmth behind them that you only saw when he was looking at you, “I might have been a bit of a bitch earlier.” You admitted, “I’m sorry.” You said earnestly this time, slowly standing up and letting Jeongguk tower over you while you felt his strong arms slide around your waist protectively, “Maybe I’ll just be honest and tell you how I feel from now on.” You grumbled the last part out, eyes shifting away from his intense stare.
Your words settled deep in Jeongguk’s heart and he couldn’t help the warmth fanning out through his chest from it, “That’s progress.” Jeongguk mused out with a nod, “Maybe I’ll ask you before I show up here next time.” He paused, “No promises though.” He added with a small smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.
You simply huffed in response. Too tired to even argue about how insanely annoying it was that he was borderline stalking you. Instead, your head dropped against the front of his chest while your arms tucked under his jacket and slid around his abdomen. You could barely wrap your arms around his wide frame but you clung onto him anyways. Inhaling the leather and cologne stuck to his clothes and skin.
You both hugged each other quietly for a long moment. No words needed to be said. Your mind was goop anyway. Jeongguk seemed perfectly content with the silence too. He pressed his face against the top of your head. Breathing in your scent. Fingers trailing down your spine before he began to shift, his hand lingering along your lower back as though he didn’t quite want to pull away yet,
“Want me to take you home? I gotta go walk that dog.” He mumbled, jaw shifting in place with mild irritation.
He didn’t have anywhere else to be but he knew Mrs. Grey… that old hag would be waiting by her front door with Pebbles. Leash already in hand. And undoubtedly wondering where he was. Yeah, he could flake on her but Jeongguk made a promise. And unlike most people, he intended to keep it.
“I’m already behind on work because of you so, no.” You nodded and began to pull away from his hold to sit back down on your chair.
Jeongguk’s attention stayed on you, “Right, right.” He nodded with understanding because he knew how seriously you took your job. That was one thing he actually didn’t mess with when it came to you. Even if he invaded your office and spent the better part of an hour distracting the shit out of you. Still, this job was everything to you. He had already taken up too much of your time anyways.
"You busy later?" He asked as he began to make his way to the door, "You could come over." He nodded, “I can cook us dinner for a change.”
You let out a soft breath, already knowing the weight behind his invitation. Although you did miss Jeongguk’s cooking. He was a far better cook than you. You had plans you couldn’t cancel. Plans you weren’t going to ditch just for him because that’s what you used to do when you were his puppet. Not anymore.
You held his gaze before giving him a small shake of your head, "Can't. I'm meeting my coworkers. And a few clients. We're going to the club after work." You nodded as your gaze drifted down to your haphazard appearance, “Well, after I go home and shower now.” You added the last part with a faint smile
His jaw tightened once before relaxing again. His tongue pressed briefly against the inside of his cheek, eyes dropping to the floor for the briefest second as though he were sorting through a dozen thoughts he had no intention of sharing before he finally asked,
“What’s the club called?" He questioned you with curiosity in his eyes.
You paused, trying to remember, “I think it’s called…” You thought more then you shrugged, "The violet rectangle or something like that."
That wasn’t even the right name, you silly goose. But Jeongguk knew where you were going immediately anyway. The Purple Circle.
The club wasn’t famous but he had been there before. It was a place where powerful people gathered because they believed the flashing lights and expensive drinks made them untouchable. A place where conversations happened in corners and deals were made beneath the noise.
He wasn’t visiting as a guest that time. He came in as The Ghost. Blending into the crowd and following another figure who’s shadow was swallowed by the movement of people dancing and lights. The place where he followed a man into the bathroom stalls and ended his life with a knife to his neck. Slipping out into the night soon after with not a drop of blood or a single scratch on him.
Hearing you casually mention going there with coworkers and clients, the memory surfaced without permission. The same walls. The same thunderous music. The place where he had once entered for work.
And now you were going there. A part of him was bothered by you going to that place in particular. Not due to the fact that you would be with your fellow friends and coworkers. It was more about the fact that a place he associated with blood deals and secrets had somehow become part of ordinary life. Exposing innocent patrons to the atrocities people in his world conducted in plain sight.
Jeongguk looked back at you with his expression carefully neutral. You had no idea. No idea how familiar The Purple Circle was to him. But he nodded anyway and his jaw clenched for a moment before he turned away, “Call me if you need me.” He reached for the doorknob, the leather of his jacket shifting as he moved.
Before opening the door, he paused long enough to slide his sunglasses back into place over his eyes. The dark tint of the lenses separating him and the rest of the world, "And be careful." He said finally.
You opened your mouth to respond. You weren't even sure what you were going to say. Maybe a sarcastic comment. Maybe a reluctant goodbye. Maybe something softer that you would immediately regret letting him hear. But you never got the chance because Jeongguk was already gone. The door closing behind him with a quiet click.
You sat there for longer after Jeongguk left. Deep in thought. Eyes on the door he had left through. Memories of those heated moments you spent with him just a breath ago played behind your eyes like a movie scene.
He crossed a boundary and made you apologize for it. Manipulated you into thinking you were in the wrong. He didn’t even feel bad for it all because he thought he was doing the right thing. Thought protecting you meant control.
Thoughts of the ghost that haunted you plagued your mind because after all those evenings spent together. After all the dinners and conversations that stretched longer than either of you expected, you had started to believe maybe you were finding your way back to each other.
It wasn't just that he had broken into your office. It was that some part of him still believed he could. That loving you meant having access to every part of your life. That protecting you meant crossing every boundary you tried to set.
You hated that he didn't see the difference. Hated that you didn’t confront him for it either.
You stood up and crossed to your office door. Making a split second decision. Your fingers hovered over the screen to change the passcode. You hesitated for a long moment.
Maybe Jeongguk didn't understand why walking into your office without permission was wrong. Maybe he saw it as concern. Maybe he saw it as love. But you knew better. Love didn't mean someone could unlock every door just because they used to have the key.
Your hand slowly lowered because you couldn't do it. It wasn’t because you didn't think you deserved that boundary. And it wasn’t because you weren't angry. You were fucking furious.
However, changing the code meant admitting that you were shutting him out completely and somewhere in the dark pit of your heart, you didn’t want to do that at all.
Remember? Crazy matches crazy? Yeah.
You let out a quiet breath and stepped away from the keypad. The screen eventually went dark. The old code remained. And you really hated yourself a little for it. You knew Jeongguk would probably never understand that this was the part that made him so difficult to leave.
No matter how much he hurt you… some part of you was always leaving the door unlocked.
Jeongguk reached the street to his motorcycle waiting where he had left it earlier. He swung a leg over the bike and sat there for a moment, one hand resting loosely against the handlebar. The other on his leg.
Your words replayed in his head. The club. The Purple Circle.
A hand slipped into the inside pocket of his leather jacket and his fingers found the familiar shape before he even pulled it out. A crushed pack of menthols. The corners were worn, the cardboard slightly bent from being carried around too long. He turned it over once in his hand before tapping the bottom lightly against his palm.
He pulled one free and placed it at the corner of his lips, lighting the end of it with the click of his lighter. The small flame illuminated his face for a second before disappearing. He took the first drag slowly, letting the menthol settle on his tongue.
The taste was cold. A strange contrast to the warmth still fluttering around in his stomach from being around you. Smoking had never been about enjoying it. It was something to do with his hands when his mind refused to quiet down. And today, his mind wouldn't stop.
His mind ran a marathon. Thinking about the fact that you would be walking into a place tonight he knew far too well about. Not knowing about the things hidden beneath its surface. The fact that he wanted to tell you all about it. The fact that he couldn't.
He knew you weren't a target. You weren't an enemy. You weren't someone he needed to study, track, or anticipate. He still treated you like one though. It was like he was waiting for a threat instead of standing beside the person he loved.
And then he turned it all around. Making you think you were the one at fault the entire time.
He knew it wasn't normal. He knew you deserved something softer than the way his mind worked. Jeongguk wanted to be normal more than he would ever admit. He wanted to love you without analyzing every detail. Without needing to know every possibility. Without turning every feeling into something he had to control.
But this life was the only one he knew. Being The Ghost was the only version of himself he had ever been allowed to become. And even when he was with you, he forgot he didn’t need to be a ghost.
The cigarette burned slowly between his lips as he stared out at the street. When it reached the end, he didn't toss it aside. Jeongguk leaned forward instead, carefully pressing the remaining ember out against the metal near the rear of his motorcycle. Close to the tire where it would never be noticed.
Jeongguk waited and made sure it was completely out then he tucked the extinguished cigarette butt into the small sewn pocket hidden inside the lining of his leather jacket. He had learned a long time ago that you leave with everything you came with. That was the rule. No traces. No evidence. Nothing that proved you had ever been there. Disappear completely. Leave nothing behind.
He reached into his jacket and pulled out his phone next, scrolling through his contacts until one name appeared. 책사 (Chaeksa or The Strategist). The call connected instantly.
"Yeah?"
Jeongguk didn't waste time, "I need a favour.”
“What you need, twin?” Came the voice from the other end of the call.
“Need a table at The Purple Circle tonight."
On the other end, The Strategist was already figuring out what needed to be done before Jeongguk had even finished explaining what he wanted.
He wasn’t called The Strategist for nothing.
Every operation passed through him before it ever reached the field. And people often mistook his composure for kindness. It wasn't.
He stood tall and composed. Impossible to rattle. His appearance was refined without being flashy. All clean lines, tailored suits and the kind of professionalism that suggested he had no interest in proving his status to anyone.
There was an intelligence in his face that was difficult to miss. He had sharp dragon-like eyes that seemed to catch details everyone else overlooked. Specks of gray in short black hair. A pair of deepset dimples that kissed his cheeks on the off chance he did crack a smile.
His strength was never intimidation. It was his mind. He knew things. He remembered things. Everything. Faces, names and conversations spoken months earlier. He could recall insignificant details everyone else dismissed. To him, nothing was insignificant. Every piece belonged somewhere like a puzzle.
If The Ghost was the blade… The Strategist was the hand that decided where it fell.
"For yourself?" The Strategist asked after a moment.
Jeongguk confirmed, “Just me.”
"What time?"
"Before she gets there."
Jeongguk could picture it. The tilt in The Strategist’s expression. The moment where he registered the request without questioning it, "I'll have someone clear the VIP balcony."
"Nah." Jeongguk mumbled into the phone, "I want the main floor."
The words made the silence last a little longer. Jeongguk listened to the timed breaths coming from the other end of the call. There was a long stretch of silence. As though the person on the other end of the line was in utter shock that The Ghost was requesting a table in the middle of the most exclusive club in the city.
It wasn’t that the request couldn't be done.
It was because it was Jeongguk making this request because another thing Jeongguk despised more than art was clubs. He hated flashing lights. The fucking noise. The constant movement of strangers around him. He hated environments where everyone was trying to be noticed. And he fucking hated sloppy drunks too. Unfortunately, it just so happened to be that clubs had all those things.
Nevertheless, The Strategist finally said, "I'll make the call."
The line ended at once and Jeongguk slipped his phone back into his jacket and reached down, pulling his gloves out from the seat behind him. Slowly, he pulled them on. One hand. Then the other. The leather tightened around his fingers as he flexed them, his gaze fixed somewhere beyond the street in front of him.
The only reason he ever stepped inside places with boisterous noise and drunk idiots was because he had a job to do. But tonight wouldn’t be for business. Tonight, a visit to The Purple Circle wouldn’t be for work.
And when the time came for the club doors to open later tonight, he would already be seated at a table. Waiting. Yes, The Ghost would be waiting. For you.
A/N - My own writing stressed me out to the point where I needed to go smoke a cigarette. Anyways, I’m done for the day. See you in the next chapter where I make the ghost do more fucked up shit.
BTW originally big man was packing 9 inches but i thought that might be tew long for miss girl. 7 inches seemed good enough (ahhh yes the 7 again) dont come for me okay i aint ever seen a big dick irl so idk blame illya rozanov for that or smth
And as always, thanks for reading. I sincerely appreciate every single person that reads and enjoys my incessant rambling. <3
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♯ IN WHICH, jeon jungkook knew he shouldn't keep coming over, and you knew better than to let him in. but rain has a way of softening bad decisions, and by the time his wife's name lights up your room, he's already too deep in the lie to pretend either of you are innocent.
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「 ( a/n ) ──── hii dumplings, you ask, and you shall receive! '119' series is officially out now. i do wanna apologize for the long awaited update, i've been very busy this prior week and also just celebrated my birthday. so, to make up for that—expect a lot of new work!!!!
119 ᵉᵖ ²
By morning, the ring had become part of the room.
That was the first thing you hated.
Not the fact that it was there. Not the fact that he had left it. Not even the fact that you had agreed to keep it safe, as if safety was something you and jungkook had ever managed to give each other without cutting yourselves on it first.
You hated how quickly your eyes learned where to find it.
On your nightstand, beneath the lamp, beside the little dish where you kept earrings you forgot to put away. A circle of gold sitting where his phone had lit up against your sheets the night before. It caught daylight differently than it had caught lamplight. Under the yellow bulb, it had looked almost soft. In the morning, it looked official. Expensive. Undeniable. A thing made for documents and family dinners with hands held across restaurant tables.
Not your room.
Not your finger.
Not you.
You woke to the rain gone and the city washed pale through the curtains. The sheets were still twisted from the night before, one corner pulled loose from the mattress, the pillow beside yours dented where he had lain too long afterwards. Your body felt heavy in the aftermath, sore in places that made ordinary movement intimate. When you sat up, the robe you had thrown on before sleeping slipped from one shoulder, and the cold air touched your skin.
The ring gleamed.
You looked away.
Your phone was on the mattress beside your thigh, face down. You had not touched it since his last message.
For what it’s worth, I meant what I said before I left.
You had not asked which part because there had been too many possible answers and all of them were useless.
He meant he hated leaving you hurting.
He meant he wanted thursday.
He meant the tenderness, which was worse than desire because it had always been easy to survive. Desire could be blamed on bodies, timing, chemistry, or weakness dressed up as hunger. Tenderness had intention in it. Tenderness looked around your ruined apartment and decided to stay a little longer.
You rose from the bed and crossed the room without looking at the nightstand again.
In the bathroom mirror, your mouth looked swollen. There was a faint mark near your collarbone, hidden if you wore the right shirt and obvious if you did not. You brushed your teeth, washed your face, and stood under the shower until your skin turned warm and your thoughts thinned into steam.
When you returned to the bedroom wrapped in a towel, the ring was still there.
Of course it was.
You made coffee. You watered the plant on the windowsill. You opened your laptop and closed it again after reading the same email three times without understanding a single sentence. Every ordinary object in the apartment seemed annoyed by the intrusion. Keys by the door, mug in the sink, blanket over the couch, receipt from the convenience store still lying on the table. They all belonged to your life, and the ring belonged to his.
Or to hers.
That was the problem with it. It was his ring only because it had first been her promise.
At ten in the morning, your phone lit up.
Jungcuck
Morning
You stared at the message from the kitchen counter.
Too casual. Too careful. The kind of text that pretended nothing had happened while knowing everything had. He was giving you room, or performing the shape of it. Letting the word sit there without asking about the ring because he had already asked and you had already answered. Thursday. Safe. Fine.
You did not reply.
At noon, another message came through.
Jungcuck
are you ignoring me?
That made you laugh under your breath, because he always did that. He held out his hand and called it restraint because he had not grabbed you yet.
You set the phone face down.
By afternoon, you had convinced yourself not answering was the only decent thing left. Every reply would become a hallway with his voice at the end of it. Every sentence would open a door. If you gave him one word, he would find a way to make it warm.
Six in the evening, he sent a voice message.
You lasted eight minutes before playing it.
There was traffic behind him, the low pulse of engines and rainwater under tires even though the rain had stopped. His voice came through, quieter than you expected.
“Hey. I’m not asking you to talk to me.”
A pause.
A soft laugh, almost embarrassed.
“That sounds like I’m asking you to talk to me. I’m not. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”
You held the phone in your palm and looked toward the bedroom.
“I keep reaching for it,” he said. “That’s all. It’s weird.”
Then, after a second,
“I'll stop, but I’m still coming thursday.”
The message ended there.
No apology. No please. No pet names. Just that one word, thursday, like both of you had agreed to meet at the site of an accident and identify the bodies.
You did not answer.
Wednesday passed with the ring becoming more familiar and less bearable.
It watched you get dressed. It sat beside your bed while you folded laundry. It remained in the same place when you came home from the market with green onions, doenjang, a bunch of perilla leaves the vendor tucked into your bag for free, and a small bag of black rice you regretted buying the moment your hand closed around it.
He liked black rice.
That was the kind of knowledge affairs left behind, small domestic splinters that hurt more than the obvious wounds. The exact brand of coffee he thought was too bitter but drank anyway. The way he slept hot and kicked blankets down around his feet. The fact that he bit the inside of his cheek before admitting something true. The way he washed rice three times and drained it with unnecessary precision, tattooed fingers wet under your kitchen light, almost like he belonged in the quiet parts of your life.
By one in the afternoon, he texted,
Jungcuck
is it still on your nightstand?
You read it twice.
Then put your phone in a drawer.
Two hours later, he sent,
Jungcuck
sorry, ignore that
You did.
At eleven that night, another voice message.
You were in bed when it came, lights off except for the thin blue wash of the city through your curtains. The ring sat within reach, bright in the dark whenever a car passed below and swept headlights across your wall.
You played the message against your better judgment.
For a moment there was only silence. Then his breath. Then his voice, lower than before, rough with fatigue.
“She asked about it.”
Your chest tightened.
“I told her I left it at the gym.”
A pause.
“I don’t know why I said that. First thing that came out.”
Another silence followed, heavier.
“She didn’t believe me.”
You stared at the ceiling.
He exhaled into the phone, and you could picture it too clearly. Somewhere in his house, maybe the bathroom, or the dark side of the kitchen, glasses off, hair messy from running his fingers through it, lip ring caught between his teeth as he tried to think his way out of a thing his body had chosen before his brain arrived.
“I’ll get it tomorrow,” he said. “I won’t stay long.”
The lie sat in your bedroom after the message ended.
You turned the phone face down.
“I won’t stay long,” you repeated into the dark, and the room did not bother pretending to believe him.
Thursday arrived bright and cold.
You were up early, nerves moving under your skin before you even opened your eyes. For several minutes, you lay still and stared at the ceiling, refusing to look right. Refusing to confirm that the ring was still there, as if it might have returned to his hand overnight through sheer shame.
It had not.
You showered longer than necessary. Shaved with the jasmine ooo oil he had bought you from the shop in Itaewon, the one with narrow wooden shelves and amber glass bottles lined up by scent. You remembered him standing behind you there, reading labels over your shoulder, his chin nearly brushing your temple, saying jasmine suited you because it smelled sweet at first and expensive after. You had told him that was a ridiculous thing to say. He had bought it anyway.
Now the scent clung to your legs and arms while you moisturized in the bathroom mirror, skin glossy under the light.
The silk robe came next.
Champagne colored, short, delicate in a way that made your body look less dressed than displayed. The belt tied loosely at your waist. The neckline slipped open the second you moved. You wore nothing underneath, a choice you told yourself had nothing to do with him, which made the lie almost funny.
Your french manicure was still neat, white tips clean against pale pink. Your pedicure matched. Every part of you looked intentional, and that was the point. If you were going to be weak, you wanted at least to look like you had planned it.
You went to the nightstand.
The ring waited where you had left it.
For a while, you only looked at it.
Then you picked it up and slid it onto your left ring finger.
It was not made for you. That was obvious at once. It sat a little too loose, shifting when you lifted your hand, the weight unfamiliar against skin that had no history with it. Still, in the morning light, against your manicure and the soft fall of silk at your wrist, the gold looked almost natural.
Almost.
You took a picture before you could talk yourself out of it.
Just your hand in the strip of sunlight falling across the bed. French tipped nails, silk cuff, his wedding ring turned toward the camera.
No caption.
You sent it.
For five minutes, nothing happened. The image sat beneath his unanswered messages from the past two days, a single photo under all that restrained male patience.
Then his name filled your screen.
Calling.
You let it ring once.
Twice.
You answered on the third ring.
There was a beat of silence.
Then, quietly, “So you are alive.”
You smiled despite yourself. “Hello to you too.”
The sound he made was not quite a laugh and not quite a breath. “Two days,” he said, voice low and tight, as if he had stepped out of a meeting and straight into a locked room inside himself. “Two days of silence, and this is what you send me?”
You moved toward the living room, phone against your ear, robe whispering around your thighs. “What?”
“You know exactly what I'm talking about.” A sound on his end, the creak of a chair. He was leaning back. You could picture it with nauseating clarity. "You sent me a picture of my wedding ring on your finger."
"I did."
"...While I was in a meeting."
"I didn't know you were in a meeting."
"지랄." bullshit.
"I didn't."
"You know my schedule."
That was true. You did. Not because he'd given it to you formally, but because you'd absorbed it the way you absorbed everything about him. Passively, osmotically, against your own will. You knew his meetings ran a little after 1 on monday's and thursday's. You knew he checked his phone the second they ended.
And you knew the photo would be the first thing he saw.
"Maybe.. I just missed you," you said.
He went quiet.
“Also proof I kept it safe, just for you.”
“That’s not safe.”
“No?” You looked down at the ring as you sat on the couch. The band sliding slightly when your fingers bend. “I thought you’d appreciate knowing I hadn’t gotten rid of it.”
“You kept the ring.”
“Mm,” you nod, though you knew he couldn't see.
“And you thought sending me proof was a good idea?”
“Apparently not.”
“No.” His voice dropped. “Not if you expect me to think about anything else for the rest of the day.”
You glanced down at the ring again, turning it with your thumb.
“Well, you shouldn't have forgotten it in the first place."
Silence.
“Take it off.”
“You keep giving me orders from places you can’t enforce them.”
Another pause followed, dense enough to feel like his hand had closed around the line.
He was in his office, you could hear it. The climate control, the muted city behind thick glass, the distant hush of a workplace continuing beyond a closed door.
You imagined him too easily because he was always the same at work in the ways that ruined you. Dark shirt, sleeves rolled to his forearms, black ink crossing muscle and tendon, expensive watch at his left wrist, glasses low on his nose after too many hours of screens. His thighs tense beneath tailored slacks. His hair pushed back, then falling forward anyway. His lip ring catching when his tongue worried at it.
“You’re enjoying this,” he said.
“Not as much as you are.”
His silence was answer enough.
Then he laughed, quiet and self-hating. “Yeah. Probably not.”
You leaned back, and the robe fell open at your chest. Cool air touched your skin. You didn't fix it.
“Are you alone?” he asked.
“That’s a stupid question.”
“Answer it anyway.”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
You looked toward the bedroom, where the nightstand was now empty. “No, actually.”
His breathing changed.
“What?”
“You’re here too. Kind of.”
He did not answer for a long moment. When he did, his voice had lost some of its edge. “Stop saying it like that.”
“Like what—”
“Like It has some underlying meaning.”
You smiled faintly. “Doesn’t it?”
The quiet stretched.
He broke it first, softer than before. “You sleep last night?”
You should have lied. You almost did.
“No.”
His exhale moved through the phone with too much understanding.
“Me neither,” he said.
Neither of you filled the space after that. The silence was not empty. It had two nights in it, two separate beds, one missing ring, one wife choosing not to ask until she did. You wondered if sowon had slept beside him with her back turned. Wondered if he had looked at his bare hand in the dark and thought of your nightstand.
You wondered if that made you cruel.
Then decided it did.
“What are you wearing?” he asked.
The question slid into the silence like a blade warmed first.
“Jungkook.”
“I’m asking.”
“You’re also at work.”
“My door is closed.”
“That doesn’t make it any better.”
“No,” he said, voice dropping. “It makes it worse. Tell me.”
You looked down at yourself. The robe had loosened almost completely, one side slipping from your shoulder, the silk barely covering the swell of your breasts. Your bare thighs were folded beneath you, skin smooth and glossy from the oil. His ring sat on your hand, bright and wrong.
“Robe.”
“Yeah? Which one?”
“You know which one.”
“The short one?”
“Mm,” you agree.
“What else?”
“Nothing.”
His curse came under his breath, rough and immediate. You heard his chair creak. The quiet scrape as he shifted. Then the faint click of metal against his teeth.
“You planned this,” he said.
You smiled. “I think you give me too much credit.”
“Do I?”
“You called me.”
“After you sent the picture.”
“You could've ignored it, jungkook.”
He let out a slow breath.
“You know me better than that.”
His breathing changed again, deeper this time. Your mind supplied the rest before your pride could stop it, the phone in one hand, the other somewhere along his thigh.
“Talk to me,” he said.
“I am.”
“About normal things.”
“You want normal from me while your ring is on my finger?”
“I want your voice,” he said, and the words came out stripped down, almost irritated by their own honesty. “Talk about anything.”
You closed your eyes.
This was the part that should have been easiest to deny him. Sex had momentum. Arguments had heat. But this, his request for your voice after a long meeting and two days of not having it, went somewhere lower than arousal.
“I went to the market yesterday,” you said.
His exhale softened immediately. “Yeah?”
“The corner one. The same ajumma who thinks I’m too skinny gave me extra perilla leaves again.”
“She likes you.”
“When she insults me every time?”
“That's how she likes you.”
Despite yourself, you smiled. “I bought doenjang, green onions, and some black rice.”
A pause.
“I thought you hated black rice?” he said.
“I do.”
“Then why buy it?”
You turned the ring on your finger. “Maybe I’m trying to become a better person.”
“That’d be new for both of us.”
The laugh that left you was small and unwilling. His followed, lower, tired around the edges. For one dangerous second, the call felt almost normal, almost domestic, as if he were on his way home to you and not hiding in an office from the life he had already chosen.
“What else?” he asked.
“I rearranged my bookshelf.”
“You alphabetized.”
“Why do you sound proud?”
“You alphabetize when you’re avoiding things.”
“And you call me when you should be calling your wife.”
The quiet after that was longer.
“Fair.” he said.
His phone buzzed faintly on his end.
The timing was cruel in the exact way life often was. He went still. You heard it in the sudden absence of all small movement, no chair creak, no breath against the receiver, no restless fingers tapping on a desk. The whole line held its breath.
“Is that her?” you asked.
He didn't answer but took long enough to read it that you already knew it would be something ordinary. Something harmless. Something a decent husband would answer without guilt.
“She’s making galbijjim,” he said. “Asked if I’ll be home on time.”
The sentence sat between you, warm and domestic and unbearable.
“Answer her.”
“I will.”
“Now.”
“In a minute.”
“Jungkook.”
“Give me a minute.”
“She’s waiting.”
“So are you.”
The words landed with no triumph, only exhaustion. You looked down at the ring on your hand and felt a bitterness so sharp it almost steadied you.
“I’m waiting for you to come get your ring,” you said.
“That’s all?”
“That’s all you’re allowed to come for.”
His breathing shifted, and when he spoke again, the command had softened into something closer to defeat.
“Take it off.”
You looked toward the bedroom.
For a few seconds, the meaner part of you considered refusing. Letting him imagine it there all day. Opening the door tonight with his marriage on your hand and your body bare beneath silk. Making him see what he kept doing in a language he could not soften.
But the ring had already worked too well.
You stood and walked into the bedroom.
The nightstand was exactly as it had been when he left, lamp, earrings, the empty space where the ring had sat since tuesday. You slid the band from your finger and placed it back in that same spot. The small sound of metal touching wood felt louder than it should have.
“There,” you said. “It’s back on the nightstand.”
He exhaled. Relief and disappointment braided together.
“Good.”
“You don’t sound happy.”
“I’m not.”
“Then come get it.”
“I will.”
“Tonight?”
Silence.
“Tonight,” he said.
You should have heard the lie inside the agreement. Maybe you did.
“After dinner?” you asked.
His silence answered first.
“After dinner,” he said.
“You’re gonna eat her food, lie to her face, and then come here for a ring you should have never taken off.”
“Mm.” he agreed.
The simplicity of it made your stomach twist.
“You’re awful.”
“I am.”
“I'm awful.”
“You are.”
The silence that followed was almost tender.
Then he whispered, “Don’t change.”
Your grip tightened around the phone.
“Go back to work.”
“I’m leaving soon.”
“You said tonight.”
“I know what I said.”
“Jungkook.”
“I’ll see you.”
He hung up before you could utter another word.
For a while after, you sat on the edge of your bed and stared at the ring. Back on the nightstand. Exactly where it had been. Exactly where he expected to find it.
You told yourself he would come after dinner.
You told yourself you had hours.
At three in the afternoon, he knocked.
Three knocks. His rhythm. You'd know it anywhere. Unhurried, confident, the cadence of a man who knew the door would open regardless. You were in the kitchen with a glass of wine you had poured to make the waiting less humiliating, still in the same robe, still bare underneath, still scented faintly of jasmine and bad judgment.
Your stomach flipped.
You looked down at yourself. Silk robe falling open, skin still gleaming, thighs still pressed together against the dull ache he'd left between them an hour ago on the phone. You hadn't changed. Hadn't fixed yourself. Hadn't done a single thing to prepare for him because he wasn't supposed to be here until tonight, after dinner, after sowon, after the pretend game.
Three more knocks. Slightly harder.
You set the wine down and started towards the door, opening it before he had the chance to knock anymore.
Jungkook stood in your hallway still dressed for work. Black slacks, fitted enough to pull across his thighs where the muscle strained the wool. A dark button-up, navy or black, impossible to tell in the hallway light. His collar open by two buttons, sleeves rolled unevenly to his forearms. The tattoo sleeve crawled from beneath the bunched fabric, ink dark and fluid over the cords of his forearms, spilling onto the back of his left hand, disappearing under the face of that heavy watch. His jacket was folded over one arm. Glasses still on. The lip ring caught the fluorescent hallway light, a tiny silver circle at the corner of his mouth that drew your eyes the way it always did.
He looked wrecked.
Not visibly, not to anyone else. To a stranger, he'd look put together. Handsome. The kind of man who turned heads in elevators without noticing. But you weren't a stranger. You could read the tension in his jaw, the way his hair was pushed back too many times by too many frustrated hands, the slight darkness beneath his eyes that said two nights of bad sleep. The way he held himself too still, like something in him would spill if he moved too fast.
His eyes dropped. Down the robe, down your bare legs, down to your feet, french tips on display against your floor. Then back up. Slow. Deliberate.
His jaw ticked.
“You’re early,” you said.
“I left work.”
“I can see that.”
“You gonna let me in or are we doing this in the hallway?”
You stepped back without answering. He came in the way he always came in, without asking, without hesitating, like the threshold was a formality rather than a boundary. His shoes were off before you even had time to think. He moved past you and the scent of him filled the space. Something expensive, woodsy underneath, warm skin over all of it. No trace of her perfume. Not yet.
You watched him walk to your couch and sit.
Not on the chair by the window. Not at the kitchen island. Your couch. The center cushion. He dropped his jacket over the armrest and leaned back, spread his thighs, unconscious, the way big men sit when they stop performing smallness, and dragged a hand through his hair.
He didn't ask permission.
He never did.
“Make yourself comfortable,” you said. Not an invitation. An observation.
You closed the door.
He looked at you from across the room. Glasses slightly low on his nose, eyes dark above the wire frames. "I plan to."
You didn't sit. Instead you moved back to the kitchen the long way around, putting the island between you and the couch. Distance. You poured more wine into your glass, took a slow sip, and leaned back against the counter with the marble edge pressing into your lower back.
The robe shifted with the movement. The neckline slipped right, exposing the full curve of your left breast almost to the nipple before the silk caught and held. You didn't fix it. He was watching you too carefully for you to pretend modesty meant anything between you.
"Your ring is on the nightstand," you said. "Bedroom."
“I heard you.”
“Then go get it.”
His gaze moved over you slowly. Not politely.
“Come sit down.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because you came here for the ring.” You took another sip. The wine was dry and sharp and did nothing for the heat still living in your lower belly from the phone call. “It's in the bedroom. Go get it and go home.”
"I drove twenty two minutes to get here."
"You drove twenty two minutes to get your ring."
"Right." The corner of his mouth pulled, not quite a smile. The lip ring shifted with it. "That's why I left work early. For the ring."
"Yes."
"On a thursday."
"Yes."
"In the middle of the afternoon."
"Jungkook—"
"Come here."
"No."
The word landed between you and neither of you believed it.
His eyes lingered.
On the slip of your robe, the skin visible at your chest, and every time you raised the glass to your mouth and took a sip.
Then he stood.
Your grip tightened on the wine glass.
He moved toward the hallway that led to your bedroom. Long strides, easy, unhurried. You watched his back, the shirt stretching across his shoulders, the narrow taper of his waist. The way his body moved with that particular grace that made you forget how solid he was until he was close enough to feel.
Then he turned left. Towards you. Not toward the hallway.
"Jungkook."
"What?" Calm. Measured. Closing the distance between the couch and the kitchen island in four steps, rounding the counter corner with his hand trailing along the marble edge.
Three feet away now.
Two.
"I said go get your ring."
"In a minute."
"Now."
He stopped. A foot of space between you. Close enough that his cologne reached you properly. That warm, woody base note mixed with something clean and something darker underneath. Close enough that the shape of his body blocked the late afternoon light from the window and cast you in his shadow.
His eyes moved over your face. Down your throat. To the place where the robe gaped open and the swell of your breast sat perfectly and exposed, skin catching the ambient gold light.
He reached for you.
“Don’t,” you said.
His hand stopped. Hovered. Fingers extended, tattooed knuckles, clean nails, the watch catching light at his wrist. He could have ignored you. Could have closed the gap and put his mouth on yours and swallowed whatever protest you had left. You both knew you'd let him eventually.
But he stopped.
"Go get your ring," you said. Quieter now. Less command, more plea. His lip ring glinting, lower lip full and slightly parted, and if he kissed you right now you wouldn't stop him and you both knew it, and that knowing was the reason you had to say it again. "Please."
Something moved behind his eyes. A flicker. Concession or calculation. You couldn't tell.
He dropped his hand.
And he walked down the hallway to your bedroom without another word.
You exhaled.
Set your wine glass down because your hand was trembling faintly, and you refused to let him see it. Pressed both palms flat against the counter and breathed through the adrenaline spike, through the want, through the sick relief of having held the line for once.
Twenty seconds later, he came back.
The ring sat in his palm. Small, gold, catching light. He walked past the island, past you without looking at you, and sat back down on the couch with the band held loosely between his thumb and forefinger. He didn't put it on. Just held it. Turned it once. Then set it on the cushion beside his thigh like it was an afterthought.
And looked at you.
"Happy?" he said.
"Thrilled."
"Come here."
“No.”
“You're seriously gonna drink wine at me from across the room?”
“I might.”
“You look ridiculous.”
You stared at him. He looked obscene sitting there. Too big for your furniture, too beautiful for your apartment, and too married for the way he was looking at you.
"I shouldn't," you said.
"Mm."
"You should go home."
"Mm."
"Your wife's making you dinner."
His jaw tightened at the mention of her. A micro flinch, the only one he'd give you. His thumb pressed against his bare ring finger, rubbing the groove where gold should sit.
"Come here," he repeated once more for a fourth time. Voice lower. Not a request anymore, a surrender in advance. An admission that he'd sit there all night waiting if he had to, that he'd let you circle and deflect and drink your wine and call him a terrible person, and then he'd say it again, come here.
Until you finally did.
You picked up your wine glass. Took a long sip. Set it down.
Walked around the island.
Crossed the living room.
Stopped in front of him.
From this angle, he had to tilt his head back to look at you. Chin lifted, throat exposed, glasses slipping down his nose. His thighs were spread wide enough that the space between them was an invitation neither of you would call by name. His eyes moved over you without shame.
He reached up.
Fingers finding yours, the left hand. He wrapped his hand around your knuckles and pulled. Gentle. Just enough to shift your weight forward. Just enough to bring you a half step closer until your shins pressed against the couch edge between his knees.
"Closer," he murmured.
You let him guide you forward. Between his thighs now, your legs bracketed by his, the heat of him radiating through his slacks against your bare skin.
Then he interlocked his fingers with yours.
The gesture was so ordinary it gutted you. Not a grab. Not a pull. Just his fingers sliding between yours and holding. Firm, warm, and deliberate. The palm of his hand pressed against the back of yours, his watch cold against your wrist bone.
Your other hand found his thigh. You didn't decide it, your body decided it. Your palm settling against the wool covered muscle, feeling the solidity and tension of him beneath fabric. His quadricep tensed under your touch and then released.
His free hand came up. Settled on the outside of your thigh, just below the robe's hem. Warm fingers against bare skin. Not moving. Just there. A brand in the shape of his palm.
"I hate you," you whispered.
His thumb stroked once across your knuckles. Back and forth. The pad of it rough against the delicate skin between your fingers.
"I know," he said. "Come here anyway."
Your free hand left his thigh. Slid up the front of his shirt, feeling his stomach contract beneath the fabric, the hard plane of his chest, the notch of his collarbone. Both hands climbed. Over his shoulders, feeling the width and density of muscle under cotton. Up the back of his neck where his hair was slightly damp at the nape.
Your fingers laced behind his head and his face was right there. Tilted up at you, glasses reflecting your shape, mouth parted just enough to show the edge of the lip ring against his lower lip.
You hated yourself.
You hated yourself for the way your body folded toward him like a reflex, for the way your fingers tightened in his hair, for the way your hips shifted forward until the silk robe brushed against the front of his shirt and his breath hit your collarbone in a warm rush.
His hand moved on your thigh. Slid higher. Beneath the robe's hem, fingers curling around the back of your leg, pulling you forward into the space between his thighs until your body pressed against his. His other hand released your interlocked fingers and settled on your hip, gripping through silk, bunching the fabric.
"Kiss me," he said.
You shouldn't.
You really shouldn't.
But you did.
Your mouth found his like it had found his a hundred times before. Inevitable, gravitational, the kind of kiss that felt less like a choice and more like a physical law. His lips were warm and soft and the lip ring pressed cold against your mouth, a sharp point of sensation amidst all that heat. He kissed like he did everything. Slow at first, tasting, learning, making sure. His hand tightened on your hip. Yours tightened in his hair.
Then slow stopped being enough.
His mouth opened against yours, and the kiss went deep, his tongue finding yours, tasting like coffee and urgency, the silver ring at the corner of his lip clicking faintly against your teeth when he tilted his head to get closer. A sound came from him. Low, rumbling, vibrating from his chest into yours where your bodies pressed together. Mmnh. Relief and hunger tangled into a single note.
Your robe was falling open. His hands were responsible. One pulling the silk at your hip, the other sliding up your bare thigh until his fingers met the curve of your ass and gripped. No fabric between his palm and your skin. Just heat. Just his tattooed hand on your naked body while his mouth consumed yours with increasing desperation.
“You’re so selfish,” you murmur softly against his lips.
“Mhm.” he agreed.
“See, you don’t even argue anymore.”
“I’d rather kiss you.”
You should have stepped back.
You rocked against him without meaning to, your hips pressing forward, finding the hard edge of him through his slacks. He groaned into your mouth. Nngh. Guttural and bitten, his hips rolling up to meet you, the thick press of his cock straining against wool meeting the heat between your thighs through nothing but air and silk.
His hands pulled you down, and you went because your body had been waiting for the excuse, knees sinking into the couch on either side of his hips, robe splitting open all the way to your waist. The silk slipped off one shoulder, loose and useless, and the first bare press of you against him made the air leave both of you at once.
He was hard beneath you, unmistakably so, the thick ridge of him trapped behind wool, hot and straining against the cradle of your thighs. You felt him through the fabric and still it was too much, a blunt pressure exactly where the ache had been living since his voice had ruined you over the phone.
His head fell back against the couch, throat exposed, jaw slack for half a second before he caught himself and swallowed whatever sound tried to climb out.
You saw it anyway.
That split in the composure. That first fracture.
His glasses had slid low on his nose, the wire frames crooked now from the way you'd held his face when you kissed him. One lens caught the window light and hid his eye, leaving only the other visible, dark and wide and less controlled than he wanted. You reached for them before he could fix them himself.
He went still.
Your fingers touched the bridge of his glasses, light, almost careful. He watched you from beneath lowered lashes as you drew them off his face. Without them, there was nothing left between you and the exhaustion in his eyes. No frame, no office polish, no clever distance.
Just jungkook, pupils blown, lips wet, lip ring glinting where your mouth had worried it, hair pushed back in disarray and already falling forward again.
You folded the glasses slowly and set them on the side table.
When you looked back, he was staring at your mouth.
“You seem nervous,” you whispered.
His laugh came out wrong, thin at the edge, almost a groan. “Yeah?” His voice dropped. “You seem naked.”
Heat flushed through you. “I'm not even doing anything.”
“You’re sitting on me.”
“Hardly.”
His hands tightened at your hips, fingers sinking into silk and skin together. “That’s the problem.”
The admission stirred through you, warm and wicked, and you let your weight settle more fully against him. Not enough to give relief.
Enough to make him feel how close you were, how little separated him from the wet heat he’d made of you and wasn’t allowed to have. The seam of his slacks pressed against your clit, coarse through the fine line of fabric, and your breath hitched despite every effort to hold it steady.
His eyes flicked up to yours immediately.
There he was. Attentive even while unraveling. Greedy for every detail. Hungry for the smallest evidence of your want as if he hadn’t already dragged it out of you piece by piece.
“You’re mean,” he murmured.
“You came over.”
“Mm.” he nodded in agreement.
“In the middle of the day.”
“Mm.”
“For a ring.”
His grip moved, thumbs pressing slow circles into the curve of your hips, his breathing heavier now as you shifted minutely against him. “I’m really starting to hate that ring.”
“Funny. It’s supposed to mean something.”
His jaw flexed. “It does.”
“Not enough.”
He went quiet.
You leaned closer, hands sliding up the front of his shirt, feeling the hard rise of his chest beneath the dark fabric. His heart was going fast. Faster than yours, maybe. The discovery made something tender and vicious bloom behind your ribs.
“You remember where you are?” you said, mouth brushing the corner of his jaw, right where the muscle jumped. “Or did you forget that too?”
He made a sound at that, low and strained, and tipped his head toward you instead of away. He wanted your mouth. You gave him your cheek against his instead, the soft graze of skin, perfume, heat. His hands flexed once, helplessly, as if he had to physically stop himself from turning you under him.
“I didn’t forget.”
“Then say it.”
“Your apartment.”
“And?”
His breath caught against your temple.
“And i'm not supposed to be here.”
You moved before that gentleness could ask something of you. Rolled your hips in a slow drag over him.
His reaction tore through him before he could bury it.
“Shit—” His head dropped back, eyes squeezing shut, mouth falling open around the word. His hips jerked up once, seeking you, and the movement shoved a gasp out of you too, pleasure sparking low and bright.
You froze for half a second, startled by how undone he already was.
Then his hands slid to your lower back and held you there, not forcing, only clutching, like he couldn’t decide whether to keep you still or beg you to do it again.
“Do that again.”
The words were barely shaped, frayed at the ends.
You looked down at him, at the flush climbing his throat, at the damp shine on his lower lip, at the lashes resting against his cheeks because he still hadn’t opened his eyes. His chest rose hard beneath your palms. Every part of him looked too big for restraint now. Too much body, too much want, too much of whatever he spent his daylight hours hiding behind passwords and boardrooms and wedding vows.
You did it again.
Slow. Deliberate. A roll of your hips that dragged your bare center over the rigid length of him, fabric catching just right, pressure blooming sharp enough to make your thighs tense around him. His fingers dug into your robe at your waist and the sound that left him was not a groan this time. It was thinner, needier, almost wounded.
“Fuck, wait—wait.”
You stilled immediately.
His eyes opened. Panic flashed there, followed by shame, followed by naked hunger. “No. Not wait. I mean—don’t stop. I just—” He cut himself off with a harsh exhale and dragged one hand through his hair, ruining it further. “예수.” Jesus.
You studied him. “Already?”
His laugh was breathless and humorless. “You’re naked in my lap.”
“You’ve had me naked before.”
“That’s not helping.”
“It usually does.”
His eyes darkened. “Don't start.”
There was warning in it, but no authority. You could hear the strain under every syllable, the way he was holding himself still with both hands and teeth clenched around restraint. It made your pulse slow in a different way, heavy and deliberate, as if your body had discovered a new kind of power and wanted to savor it.
You cupped his face. Both hands. Forced his attention back to you without force at all.
“Jungkook.”
He looked at you.
The sound of his name on your tongue seemed to hit him harder than your hips had. His lashes fluttered. His breath left him softly.
“Yeah?”
“You better not come.”
His expression shifted, something raw cutting through the lust. “Trying not to.”
That almost broke you.
The honesty of it. The quiet devastation. The way his hands were trembling faintly where they rested against your sides, though his body remained rigid beneath you. He wanted to take. He wanted to ask. He wanted to be punished, maybe. Wanted you to decide what he deserved because he no longer trusted himself with the answer.
Your thumbs brushed over his cheekbones. His skin was warm, slightly rough where he hadn’t shaved close enough this morning. You could smell coffee on his breath, feel the heat of his exhale against your wrist.
“Try harder,”
His throat worked.
You kissed him again, slower this time, not letting him turn it into desperation immediately. His mouth answered with aching restraint, lips parting, tongue touching yours carefully, like obedience had become another form of hunger. The lip ring was cool against you, a tiny metallic pressure that made you press closer. He exhaled into your mouth, a shaken little sound, and his hands moved up your back beneath the robe, palms spreading over bare skin.
The kiss deepened by degrees. His mouth grew less careful. His arms circled you tighter. You felt his cock twitch against you through his slacks, felt the involuntary lift of his hips before he swallowed a groan and forced them down again.
You broke the kiss just enough to speak against his mouth.
“Stay still.”
His eyes shut briefly. “You’re killing me.”
“Good.”
A low, ragged sound left him. “Mmh— you're awful.”
The words should have been arrogant coming from him. They weren’t. They came out wrecked, surrendered, and you felt them everywhere.
You shifted back enough to look at him properly. His shirt was still tucked in, belt still fastened, work clothes immaculate except for the places your hands had wrinkled him. The contrast did something awful to you. Him still dressed, you nearly bare. Him with that ring beside him instead of on him. Him breathing like he had run up every stair to your apartment instead of taking the elevator.
Your hands went to his collar.
He watched you undo the next button, then the next. The dark fabric loosened, revealing the hollow of his throat, the upper line of his chest, golden skin flushed from heat. You pushed the shirt open enough to press your mouth to the exposed skin above his heart.
He made a sound then that had no defense in it.
“Mm—fuck.” His head tipped back, and one hand came up to cradle the back of your head, fingers threading into your hair. He didn’t push. Just held, as if even the weight of your mouth on him was something he needed to survive.
You kissed down the narrow opening of his shirt. Throat. Collarbone. The center of his chest where his heartbeat hammered against your lips. His stomach tightened when your fingers traced lower, not to open his belt, only to follow the line of muscle beneath the fabric.
“Baby,” he breathed, and then seemed to regret it instantly.
You went still.
The word hung in the room between the couch and the wine glass and the ring.
He looked down at you, eyes wide, something terrified and pleading crossing his face. “I—”
“Stop.”
He shut his mouth.
Your hand stayed on his stomach. His muscles jumped under your palm. You could feel every breath he took, uneven and shallow, and you hated that the tenderness in that one slipped word had gotten under your skin faster than any command.
You pushed yourself upright again.
His gaze dropped immediately to your body, and the restraint in him took another visible hit. Your robe had fallen completely open. One sleeve clung to your arm, the rest pooling around your waist and thighs, framing rather than hiding you. His eyes moved over your breasts, your stomach, the place where your hips hovered over his, and his lips parted like he’d forgotten language.
“You’re staring,” you said.
“Mm.” he nodded.
“At least pretend to be ashamed.”
His eyes lifted to yours. “I am ashamed.”
The quiet of it landed heavily.
Then his hands slid up from your hips to your ribs, thumbs grazing just beneath your breasts, reverent and restless. “Doesn’t make me want you less.”
Your breath caught despite yourself.
He saw it, of course he did. His thumbs rose, brushed the undersides of your breasts, and when you didn’t stop him, his palms followed, cupping you with a slow, greedy tenderness that made your body fold toward him. His hands were warm, broad, confident even now, and the tattoos over his fingers flexed darkly against your skin.
He leaned in and kissed the center of your chest.
Once.
Then again, lower.
His mouth found your breast, lips closing around your nipple, and the heat of it punched straight through you. You arched into him with a broken inhale, fingers flying to his hair. He groaned around you, the vibration rolling through tender flesh, and sucked harder when your hips jerked against his.
“Jungkook—”
He answered with another helpless sound, mouth still full of you, one hand squeezing your other breast while his tongue worked in slow, devastating circles. You rocked once, involuntarily, and his entire body reacted. His hips lifted sharply into you, then stopped as he choked on his own groan.
“Sorry,” he rasped against your skin. “Fuck, sorry, I’m trying.”
You stared down at him, stunned by the apology, by the desperation in his face when he released you to look up. His mouth was wet. His hair was caught between your fingers. His eyes were nearly black.
“Trying to what?”
“To not come in my pants like a teenager.”
Heat slammed through you so hard you almost laughed, or sobbed, or kissed him until neither of you could breathe. The blunt honesty stripped away the last clean surface in the room.
“You’re that close?”
He swallowed, looking ruined by the question. “Don't make me answer that.
You rolled your hips lightly.
He broke.
Not completely, but enough. His head fell back, mouth opening around a whine so soft and rough it vibrated through your bones. “Ah—fuck, please.”
Please.
From him, it was indecent.
Your hand tightened in his hair. “Please what?”
His hips twitched again beneath you, stifled, caught, his hands locking around your waist as if holding you still was the only thing keeping him intact. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
“I know. I just can’t say it without sounding pathetic.” He dragged, eyes squeezed shut, brows drawn together in anguish. “I want you to stop. I want you to keep going. I want to put my hands everywhere and I want you to tell me not to. I don’t fucking know.”
He stopped himself, jaw clamping shut.
The silence that followed was louder than the unfinished threat.
You leaned in, lips at his ear. “You sound pathetic anyway.”
His fingers flexed against your skin, then softened. His voice came out hoarse. “Good.”
Your stomach dropped.
He turned his face slightly, mouth brushing your cheek, breath ragged and hot. “Is that what you want? You want me like this?”
The accusation had no bite. It trembled at the edges.
You pulled back to look at him. “Maybe.”
His gaze searched your face, then dropped to your mouth again. “Then look at me when you do it.”
So you did.
You set both hands on his shoulders and moved over him again, a slow grind that made your clit catch against the hard outline of him, pressure building in a lush, torturous stroke. His eyes stayed on yours for half a second before they fluttered, but he forced them open, obeying his own demand with visible effort.
The sight of him like that was devastating. Shirt open at the collar, cheeks flushed, lips parted, hair wrecked by your hands, no glasses to hide how badly he needed you. His breath came out in broken pieces. Each pass of your hips drew another sound from him, low at first, then higher, strangled, unguarded.
“Nnh—yeah, like that. Fuck, just like that.” His hands slid down to your ass, holding you, not controlling the rhythm so much as surviving it. “You feel so good. You’re not even—God, you’re not even letting me inside you and I’m—”
He cut off on a groan, forehead falling against your shoulder.
You could feel the damp heat of yourself against him now, your body slick enough that every glide left evidence. The front of his slacks was ruined, darkened and creased, his cock trapped and throbbing beneath you. You should have felt embarrassed. You felt viciously alive.
His mouth moved against your shoulder, words half-lost in breath. “I couldn’t work...”
“That's dramatic.”
“I stared at the same email for forty minutes.”
“Poor you.”
“Yeah.” His arms tightened around you, pulling you chest to chest. “Poor me.”
The repetition should have made you angrier. Instead it made your throat tighten, because he sounded like a man standing in the wreckage and naming every piece, unable to pretend he didn’t recognize what he had broken.
You slowed, the motion turning deeper, more intimate, less punishment and more ache. His breath shuddered. His face pressed into the side of your neck, and then he kissed you there, once, open-mouthed and trembling. His teeth grazed the skin below your ear. Not enough to mark. Enough to ask.
You tilted your head despite yourself.
He made a broken sound of gratitude and kissed the offered place again, then lower, along the tendon of your throat, his mouth worshipful now, almost feverish. His hand came up to cradle the back of your head, and the other stayed low at your hip, guiding nothing, holding everything.
The pressure between you shifted when you moved. The ridge of him caught perfectly beneath you, and pleasure flashed so sharply that your nails dug into his shoulders through his shirt. You gasped, hips faltering.
His head snapped up.
“There?” he asked, voice shredded.
You didn’t answer quickly enough.
He dragged you over him again, same angle, same pressure, watching your face as your mouth fell open.
“Oh.”
The word left him like a discovery. Like awe. Then he did it again, hands at your hips now, controlled only in the sense that he was using the last of his restraint to keep the motion exactly where you needed it. “There. Yeah, there, I got it.”
“Jungkook—”
“I know.” His voice broke around it. “I’ve got you, baby.”
You were too far gone to correct him this time.
He kept you there, grinding you against him with steady, aching precision, his cock hard and trapped beneath you, his own need turning him ragged while he focused on yours. Every roll dragged a moan out of you, and every moan ruined him further. You could see it happening. The trembling in his arms. The shine gathering on his forehead. The way his mouth kept falling open around sounds he tried to swallow and failed.
“Listen to you,” he whispered, then gave a strangled laugh as if the words had hurt him. “I'm so fucked.”
“You’re talking too much.”
“If I shut up, i'm gonna come...”
The line hit too close.
Your hips slowed.
He realized it immediately. His face changed, regret cutting through the haze. “Don’t stop because of that.”
“Because of what?”
“Because I said it out loud.”
“You say a lot out loud when you’re desperate.”
His hands left your hips and came up to your face, patient now, palms warm against your cheeks. “Yeah. And you like it.”
You looked at him. Really looked.
His eyes were wet at the edges, not with tears exactly, but with pressure, exhaustion, wanting pushed past pride. His thumb brushed your lower lip. It was such a tender touch that your chest hurt worse than anything between your thighs.
“You should put your ring back on.”
His expression tightened.
“That's why you came, right?”
For a moment neither of you moved. Then his gaze dropped to the ring. He stared at it like he didn’t understand how it had gotten there, like someone had planted evidence beside him while he was distracted by the crime.
You reached for it before he could.
His breath stopped.
The gold band was warm from the cushion when you picked it up. Smaller than it should have been for the weight it carried. You held it between you, resting on your fingertip, and watched him watch it.
“Hand.”
He didn’t.
“Jungkook.”
His eyes lifted to yours, and there was something openly pleading in them now. Not sexual. Worse.
“Don’t make me,” he said.
The room went very still.
You felt the words enter you slowly, like cold water under a door.
“I’m not making you do anything.”
“I know.” His voice was barely above breath. “That’s why I can’t.”
The ache in your throat sharpened until it felt like anger because anger was easier, sturdier, something you could stand inside without collapsing. You took his left hand anyway. He let you. His fingers were slack at first, then curled around yours as if he couldn’t help himself.
The pale indentation at the base of his finger was visible. A clean little absence.
You touched the ring to his knuckle.
His eyes closed.
“Put it on,” you said again, softer, hating yourself for the softness.
He shook his head once.
“Jungkook.”
“I hate how empty my hand feels without it.”
You froze.
His eyes opened again, dark and devastated. “And I hate that I don’t want it back on.”
That ruined the last of the room.
Your fingers trembled around the ring. You hated that he saw. You hated that his face changed when he did, all hunger stripped back to tenderness, to guilt, to something far more dangerous than lust.
His hand rose and closed over yours, ring trapped between your palms.
“Look at me,” he whispered.
“No.”
“Please.”
You hated the please most of all.
You looked at him.
His mouth opened, then closed. Whatever he had planned to say didn’t survive your face. You could see the exact second he lost control of the sentence, the way his brow pinched, the way his breath snagged. His hand tightened over yours.
Tags: explicit content, hes a pervert 🤷🏻♀️, idk if jk is a sub or dom here.
Mdni 18+
I know one thing abt clingy jungkook is he loves laying between your thighs when watching tv together. Not only cuz he finds comfort there, but he also would be able to smell ur scent and feel how warm and soft your pussy feels under his neck.
He would pretend to adjust his head just so he takes a small whiff.
He’s unfortunately a pervert when it comes to you.
Jungkook was honestly worried you would be mad at him for being too perverted, but one day when you caught him sniffing your panties in your bedroom, eyes closed, a faint blush on his cheeks as he jerked off. it made you feel some type of way. You ended up riding him all night as you rub your panties over his face.
Jungkook was gone that day, he knew you were the one. He stopped hiding his desires and completely let go.
It’s still surprising to you how much of a clingy horny pup he is. especially when you’re chopping vegetables, you feel him snick to his knees, pressing his face between your thighs and breath you in.
You try to be unfazed by his actions, but it turns you on so much knowing you got this big, muscular man so down bad for you and you’re not even trying.
He’s so obsessed with your touch. pls touch him. It doesn’t matter if it’s an innocent touch , jungkook will get a boner from it.
He gets jealous of your clothes. He’ll peel your jeans down just enough to bite the very top curve of your ass, leaving a mark only he knows is there.
Also he would eat your pussy for hours. He doesn’t even care abt his release, just pls sit on his face and let him do all the work.
He also loves creampies, he loves watching his cum dripping out from your ruined pussy. He would pull u by your hips, arching your back just to push his cum back inside with his fingers. Feeling your gooey walls squeeze his fingers making him hard again.
And on other days, After he comes inside you, he refuses to pull out. He’ll stay locked in place for ages, soft but still there, dozing lightly. “I like feeling you keep me,” he slurs, half-asleep.
Cockwoming.
Jungkook wants to be inside your skin if it was physically possible, he wanna feel every inch of your body on him.
His favorite position is always missionary. Cuz that’s the closest he feels to your soul and body, seeing your eyes dizzy and unfocused, your mouth hung open desperately reaching out for his mouth is jungkook’s favorite thing in the entire world.
And you barely get to breath during missionary, cuz jungkook can’t stop kissing your soft lips. His teeth biting your lips, sucking on your tongue. He kisses you so deeply, sharing breath and spit, that you forget to pull away for air. You only remember when he finally breaks for a gasp, his forehead resting against yours, both of you breathless and shared.
Also he loves to explore anything that got to do with your pussy. One time he made you drink a whole bottle of pineapple juice just to see if the taste would actually change.
he’ll push you against the counter, hook your leg over his arm, and lick between your folds with a soft hum. “Just wanted to see if the juice changed your taste,” he’ll say after he made you cum twice, then kiss you so you can taste yourself on his tongue.
He loves giving you hickeys where no one can see—the inside of your thigh, under your breast, the small of your back. A map only he can read. He traces them with his tongue later, proud of his work.
You wake up in the middle of the night to him fingering you gently, his face buried in your hair, breathing evenly as if he’s asleep. He’s not trying to wake you or make you come. He’s just touching you because he can.
If you wear a skirt, his hand is always on the bare skin of your thigh under the table. He draws patterns with his fingertips, high up, near the edge of your underwear. A silent, public claim.
Jungkook’s worst nightmare is being away for a tour or a really busy schedule. His texts never stop even though hes very busy and barely can hold a conversation, but he will ask for a pic every time just so he could touch himself to your pretty cute face.
After a fight, his clinginess turns desperate. He’ll fuck you with a heartbreaking tenderness, kissing every inch of your skin, whispering “I’m sorry” against your lips, your collarbones, between your legs. He needs to be inside you to feel forgiven. ♡ྀི
A/N: i hope this was to ur expectations!! I tried making it less freaky but what can i say… iam freaky.
