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Pornstar Satoru stops listening when he sees you enter the room, completely out of place at the coke filled, booze filled party, wearing a pair of black glasses that cover half of your pretty face, and a little nervous look as you stand there, in a cute white pleated skirt and a big oversized sweater. Satoru smacks Suguru on the shoulder then and he coughs up smoke. 'Shit what is it?' Satoru looks back at you, when you're handed a drink, some guy flirting as you look down shyly. 'Who's she?' Suguru blinks a bit curiously. 'I don't know, she's pretty though'

Pornstar Satoru scowls at Suguru who snorts in laughter then. 'Satoru we don't have 'girlfriends' and she... looks like a good girl' your eyes catch his then, across the room, like something shifts as you smile sweetly, before peering at your phone, biting your lip in concentration. 'I'm talking to her' Suguru chuckles as he watches his friend, and Satoru feels his heart race when he comes too close to you, something he can't say he's felt, even pleasing countless beauties, nothing has quite altered him as your sweet turn of lips, as you look down at your converse, so out of place you're fucking adorable. 'Hey sweetheart... Satoru Gojo' he says, introducing himself with ease, expecting you to maybe notice him, get starstruck, fuck women get wet just near him, but you simply grin, and your name whispers through his mind when it spills from your lips.

Pornstar Satoru has you sitting with him later, you fall into easy conversation, you're a little gamer nerd, you love science and the environment, he just bets you were head of your ecology club in college, which you quickly confirm, all while you're in awe of just how beautiful this man is. He's sweet, he's sexy... you feel he shouldn't even be talking to you. You're pretty but... he's experienced so clearly, by every way he moves, he's worldly, so confident, and you've never really left this little part of LA, but the two of you can't stop talking, to the point you forget what brought you here.

Pornstar Satoru laughs with you, as you're sitting side by side, and he lights up a blunt, leaning back on the burgundy couch on the outskirts of the party, inhaling it deep into his lungs. 'Want a hit, sweets?' he murmurs, you take it nervously, putting it to your lips and inhaling a bit, before coughing, covering your mouth. Satoru chuckles, 'you're cute' earning your cheeks heating up. 'Can you tell I don't do this?' you're nervously tapping your leg now. 'Yeah, what does bring you here, doesn't seem your...' 'my scene?' he nods then. 'yeah, that.'

Pornstar Satoru watches avidly as you sip on your drink, wincing at the strong liquor. 'Well, my friend invited me over, but she's running late' Satoru grins now. 'Party time is different, everyone comes late, that's on time. About fifteen minutes late' 'oh no I came early!' you smack your own forehead, giggling along with him. 'Are you like... a model, or an actor?' you ask, eyeing him and his baby blues, the cheekbones so perfect, those lips that wrap the blunt again. 'You could say I'm a bit of both,' he muses, then spits out his drink when you ask 'what are you in!?'

Pornstar Satoru coughs just a bit, he's never been ashamed of what he does, but he's nervous for some reason to tell you. Why, he doesn't know. 'I'm... into some indie flicks' you brighten up then. 'Oh, let me know, I love lowkey films! I bet you're great' Satoru sighs, gulping down the rest of his drink and eyeing your cup. 'Want more?' you frown now, maybe you're asking too much, or offending this actor that you don't recognize him!? You nod, the amount of people around you making you press against this friendly, pretty white haired stranger just a little more.

Pornstar Satoru has another drink, eyeing the sea of bodies undulating in the extravagant mansion, and soon the two of you are dancing together you're cute and so awkward, Satoru's enjoying this far, far too much. He has plenty of costars and fans come up to the two of you, but he's too interested in showing you how to move your hips to pay them any mind, when finally your friend comes. Satoru instantly recognizes her, she's a pretty famous co star he's collabed with on her Onlyfans not long ago. When she sees you giggling and enjoying yourself so much, she damn near drags you away, making Satoru curse.

Pornstar Satoru eyes you when your friend whispers in your ear- 'you really don't recognize him!?' you blink curiously, looking at him more closely. 'Should I?' she sighs then, eyeing Satoru up and down. 'He was in my OF videos, we collabed' you heat up furiously then. 'I never watched your videos! I just subbed to be supportive!' she giggles. 'You're so cute, I thought you at least watched some?' you shake your head nervously. 'I don't really watch, is he... like an OnlyFans guy?' Satoru is back over with Suguru now, while you sip your drink, feeling your body warm up. 'He's the top pornstar there is, the collab was like a dream. He's really sweet but you should know is all, you're kinda...' you glare. 'kinda what?' she giggles again. 'you're just... sweet, emotional, is all'

Pornstar Satoru expects you to be done with him once you find out, after all you just seem innocent, uncorrupted for this city, not the kind of girl to be at this party where lines are being snorted off bodies, and people are naked and jumping in the pools, a heady, wild atmosphere. But you smile at him, as you murmur - 'he's sweet?' to your friend. She nods then. 'He is, but just know... he doesn't date so, it'd only be physical' you frown at that now, that's not something you think you can do, you're about as demisexual as it gets, hence your very limited experience. 'He doesn't date at all?' Your friend gently touches your shoulder. 'No, love, I'd hate to see you hurt'

Pornstar Satoru catches you before you leave later that night, when you are just feeling too out of place, his big hand wrapped around your delicate wrist, earning you looking up at him. He can't stop thinking how pretty your eyes would look rolled back, how good your lips would feel wrapped around his cock, as you relax a bit, turning and looking up. 'Headed out already?' he asks softly, you flush as you remember just what he does for a living, your friend had just described his cock in far too vivid detail. 'It's not really my thing, but I'm glad we met, Gojo' you smile so cute then, leaning up and pecking him on the cheek, his arm wraps your waist as he leans down, inhaling that sweet vanilla scent cloying to your skin.

Pornstar Satoru pulls you in closer, blue eyes staring under snowy lashes. 'Can I... get your number?' Satoru has never asked for a number a day in his life, but he delights in watching you shift nervously, nodding as you tuck your hair behind your ear. 'Yeah, I'd like that' he exchanges numbers, tilting your chin up then, watching the way your eyes dilate, the color spread on your pretty cheeks. 'She told you?' you clear your throat, nodding a bit, still being captured by his fingers. 'I don't judge at all, Gojo, I'd still like to be... friends...' your whisper is met with the most subtle kiss on your lips, shooting desire hot and heavy until Satoru releases you, plump lips smirking- 'sure, sweets, we can be friends'

Pornstar Satoru can't get you off his mind, the feel of your skin on his, the sweet sigh against his lips. He is on a big shoot and - the Satoru Gojo that never gets soft - is having trouble keeping it up, to the amusement of his costar Pornstar Sukuna. Satoru scowls at his comments, just picturing your sweet lips against his for that brief moment. A man who just fucks and fucks, and doesn't feel, is hung up just on some fucking kiss. He has to take a break after pleasing his costar with his fingers, she's cumming so much she doesn't notice, but the directors wonder why he's off. He's in his own dressing room, eyeing the phone, hands shaking as he decides to type a message - 'could you give me a picture, sweets, to save as your caller id?'

Pornstar Satoru finds his cock is right back on hard when you send one quickly, just a cute selfie with a little peace sign, but he sees your glossy fucking lips, the teeth indentations he aches to rub the tip of his cock on, along with just a hint of your breasts. Your nipples press against the thin material of your little tee shirt- Pokemon, he notices, smiling- his cock throbbing. 'Can I get one too?' you're biting that lower lip nervously as you ask, getting a picture of him shirtless then, doing nothing to stifle the curiosity in your mind, your heart racing as you seee his body. 'You at a shoot?' you ask in the messages, he hesitates before answering - 'yes' - and somehow you feel jealous of whoever his costar is. You message a - kill it, Gojo! - despite the feeling in your tummy, little do you know you're drowning his fucking mind when he performs later, feeling the star squirting all over his latex covered cock.

Pornstar Satoru can't stop texting you that week, he can't even get hard if he doesn't look at that picture, and you can't stop your curiosity, when you friend mentions he's doing a live stream. Since Satoru can hardly perform, he's decided to masturbate on live cam, in minutes making more than he'd make in a shoot, all while having your picture propped up. People are chatting, watching, dollars by the hundreds being tipped every moment, fuck he's making way more than he usually would, and he can think of you. He laughs softly, abs flexing as he hits the right angle, reading the comments, making you dripping wet, this isn't what you do!?

Pornstar Satoru is stroking his wet, slick cock that's glistening, up and down with his huge hand, and you feel your pussy clench, breath coming faster, unsure whether to look away or keep staring, meanwhile he's picturing you in all sorts of positions, on your knees, a fucking mating press. He's shutting his eyes for a moment, grinning as the viewers go crazy. 'I know, it's pretty, huh?' he spits right on that long, veiny cock of his, pinching his pink tip and whining, white lashes fluttering open right when he sees a familiar name enter the chat.

Your name.

Pornstar Sukuna hcs here // Pornstar Suguru hcs here // Onlyfans Nanami hcs here

“God,” he chuckles, shaking his head. His front door slams shut behind you and he presses your spine against the door, your work bag dropping to the floor with a thud. “Why do you always do that?” Another kiss is pressed to your jaw. “Can’t stop chastising me for even a second?” 

Your neck keens to allow him to gingerly press more kisses down your pulse point, your throat. “No,” you bite back a moan as he sucks on your skin, stopping to inhale your scent. “I can’t let your ego get too big, Jeon.” 

“Too late,” he mutters against your skin, and you can feel the shit-eating grin spreading across his lips. His hands find your jacket, sliding it off your shoulders, dropping it somewhere near your work bag. No one cares where it lands. 

“You probably have a mirror on your ceiling, don’t you?” Threading your fingers through his hair, you tug on the strands, a low rumble escaping his mouth. 

His eyes are darkened when they pull back to look at you, pupils completely blown. You’ve never seen him so disheveled, so utterly lost in someone. The familiar feeling you’ve felt around him bubbles tenfold, grows like a living thing inside you. “You’re about to find out.” 

Fuck. 

His lips mesh with yours, backing you further into his apartment. Even as you stumble through it, he’s there to catch you, hands firm on your waist, pads of his thumbs pressing into the bone of your hip like they were always meant to be there.

“Jesus Christ, how many shoes do you own?” you ask mid-kiss. You’ve basically tripped over his third pair of sneakers lining the hallway. It’s literally absurd. And you plan to bully him about this even more, just maybe not when his hands are running up and down your sides. 

“Stop looking at my floors,” he nips at your bottom lips, “And start looking at me.”

“Hard to do when your apartment’s trying to kill me,” His thumbs brush just under your shirt hem, and your breath catches on its next inhale. Your eyes avert from his, from how good he’s already making you feel, from how undeniably bad you need this—

“Is that a Funko Pop collection?”

Jungkook laughs against your jaw. “You’re killing the mood here.”

“Am I?” You cock an eyebrow, hand wandering down, down to his pants, where his bulge is protruding. Your mind reels at how just kissing you could make him feel like this. His cock twitches against your touch and his eyes flutter closed for a second. “Seems like you’re doing just fine.”

“Fucking hell,” he exhales, hips pressing forward into your palm. Then he’s walking you backward again, faster this time, urgent. “Bedroom. Now.”

“So bossy.” You roll your eyes but your stomach coils with excitement. There’s something so forbidden about Jungkook Jeon—maybe it’s because you’ve spent years detesting his work and him, or because he was always this tangible thing that everyone got to experience except for you. Now he’s in your hands, and it’s not that you ever expected to have it, but he’s here. You’re here with him in his bedroom. 

You get approximately two seconds to take in his bedroom—and yes, there’s thankfully no ceiling mirror, but there is an alarming amount of gym equipment in the corner —before he’s spinning you around and walking you backward toward his bed. “Your room looks like a frat house and a sports store had a baby,” you manage to get out one final joke before the back of your knees hit his mattress. 

No turning back now. 

He hums, thumbing the hem of your blouse, fingers dancing along the skin of your stomach. “You’re standing in my frat house sports store baby room about to let me fuck you.”

Heat runs straight your core at his brash wording. You hate that you want this so badly you can barely think straight.

“Don’t get used to it,” you shoot back. 

“I wouldn’t dare.” He pulls your blouse up and over your head in one smooth motion, tossing it somewhere behind him. His eyes drop to your chest, to the red bra you’d worn this morning without knowing this would happen. “Though I gotta say… I’ve thought about this a lot. Maybe more than I should have.

“Yeah?” You refuse to let him see how affected you are by that admission. “Did it live up to the fantasy?”

“Haven’t gotten to the good part yet.” His hands cup your breasts through the padding, thumbs brushing over your nipples with enough pressure to make you gasp. “But we’re getting there.”

Your back arches into his touch, head tilting back while he continues his teasing ministrations. He watches, ever so focused, takes note of every single reaction you have. “You’re so fucking pretty like this,” he murmurs, almost to himself, almost like you’re a figment of his imagination. One hand slides around to unclasp your bra—one-handed, the show-off—and then that’s gone too. Cool air hits your skin for a moment before his hands return, palming your bare breasts, thumbs circling your nipples until they’re pebbled and peaked  under his attention.

It’s been a while since anyone has even touched you there. 

“Ah fuck.” Your head lolls back, little puffs of air falling from your lips. You don’t normally enjoy men playing with your tits, especially since they’re mostly doing it for the pleasure of themselves. But Jungkook knows just how to caress, how to hold them, all the right spots to make your breasts yearn for him.  

“Yeah, baby?” The pet name rolls off his tongue and then you’re back to being utterly sick to your stomach.“What do you need?”

Whatever. 

You’re just getting laid. This is what you needed to do, anyway. This is what Rosalie implied was good for you. A necessary evil to survive on this planet. In fact, you’re sure if Jenna could tell you without violating HR policies, she would also argue you that you need to be fucked. 

“Less talking,” You reach for his shirt. “More doing.” 

His tongue traces the column of your throat, hands roaming wherever they can. His lips spread thin across your skin, and you can feel a smile pressing into your skin. “Stop enjoying this too much,” you say between a moan that negates your original point. 

Jungkook pinches your nipple, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. “Stop thinking so hard. I can literally hear the wheels turning in your pretty head.”

“Maybe if you were better at this, I wouldn’t be able to think at all.”

He darkly chuckles, pushing you back onto the bed until you land with a soft bounce on his mattress. He crawls over you, cages you in with his bulky arms on either side of your head. “Last chance to take that back,” he murmurs, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your collarbone. 

“No way.”

“God, you’re such a fucking brat.” His wet, hot mouth makes its way to your breast, tongue circling your nipple. Your back arches clean off the bed, profanities escaping your mouth in a way that can only be described as carnal desire. He takes his time, lavishing attention on one breast while his hand works the other. His tongue flicks over your nipple before he draws it into his mouth, sucking hard enough to make you gasp, teeth grazing the sensitive bud just shy of painful.

“Still thinking?” he asks, pulling back to blow cool air over your wet skin, nipple tightening further. 

All you can focus on is the heat of his mouth, the pressure of his fingers, the weight of him hovering over you. His skin is silky soft, warm to the touch. He switches to your other breast, giving it the same attention, and your hands can’t help but travel to his hair yet again, tugging at the strands. 

A litany of moans escapes past your lips, tumbling before you can stop them. You want to fight it, tell yourself not to engage, not to enjoy too much of this before you know it’s ripped away from you like most good things in life sometimes are, but he suckles your breast as though he’s trying to collect sweet nectar from you. “There she is,” he mutters, “I knew you’d stop running that pretty mouth eventually.”

“Ah—fuck—you’re so—” Whatever insult you had planned dies in your throat when he sucks harder, teeth grazing your pebbled nipple. 

“I’m so what?” Releasing your nipple with an obscene pop, he looks up at you with disheveled hair and swollen pink lips. The sight alone is enough to make your core throb around nothing. God, you’re so fucking pathetic. “Finish your sentence.”

“Despicable,” You force out unconvincingly. Your head feels like it’s screwed backwards. 

“Mm, try again,” He dips his head back down, trailing kisses along the curve of your breast, toward your collarbone, and his lips part wider to take in your supple skin.

Absolutely the fuck not. 

“Jeon, don’t you dare,” He ignores your plea, sucking hard at the junction of your neck and shoulder, tongue soothing and teeth scraping. You shove at his shoulder. “No. No one from work can know.”

There’s a flash of frustration in his eyes as he peers up at you. “Fine,” he concedes, hands sliding down your ribcage, thumbs hooking into the waistband of your bottoms. “I’m leaving marks somewhere, though.” 

Your core thumps again. Silly little thing. Why can’t she just shut up?

“Somewhere that only I know about.” He pops the button on your pants, dragging the zipper down. He doesn’t remove them entirely, unfortunately, but he exposes the edge of your red panties. Great. He’ll leave a fucking hickey on your thigh that you’ll see everytime you so much as pee and then you’ll be reminded of—

He kisses his way back up your sternum, and then reaches the soft underside of your breast. A place that’s never seen the sun, that no coworker would ever catch. He bites down gently before sucking hard. “Jesus–fuck,” Your hands entangle in his hair. 

“That’s better,” he murmurs, tongue dragging over skin until you can practically feel the blood vessels pop. He then moves to your other breast, leaving another mark that blossoms purple and pink hues across your chest, screams Jungkook Jungkook Jungkook until you’re certain he’s imprinted on you. 

He moves back up, capturing your nipple in his mouth again, and he’s the equivalent of a man starved—sucking, licking, the barest scrape of teeth that has electricity zinging down your spine. Jungkook’s tattooed hand palms your neglected breast, matching the rhythm of his tongue, pressure boiling low in your belly. It’s never felt like this before—never felt heat creeping up your limbs, toes curling as he succumbs to whatever you want. “Jungkook—”

“Tell me what you need, baby.”

But you can’t tell him that you’re close to falling apart from his mouth and hands on your tits. Can’t admit that there’s a world in which he might know your body more than anyone else ever could. He switches breasts again, tongue circling your nipple in tight circles while his fingers pluck and tease the other one. Your hips are moving of their own accord now, seeking friction that isn’t there. Your panties stick to your folds, dampened and ruined. 

“Oh god,” you gasp, mind reeling. What the fuck is happening. How is he this good. “Oh my god, I—”

Maybe you needed to get laid more than you thought. 

He moans against your skin, the vibration traveling up your throat. 

God, right there, right fucking there, if he just flicks his tongue one more time—

You shove at his shoulders. He pulls back in a daze, eyes glazed over. His lips are red and swollen, and there’s a wetness on his chin that makes heat pool deeper in your core.

“What—” he sputters, “Did I hurt you?”

The absolute opposite, actually. 

“No, no, I just think… just, we need to slow down.”

“Oh…” he trails off, settling back on his heels. From this angle, his jawline looks sharper, eyes look more cutting, and you feel a wave of desire crash over you. His features morph from concern into understanding. “You were about to cum, weren’t you?”

“Pfft,” you scoff. “No I wasn’t.”

“Just from me playing with your tits.” The bastard sounds delighted. “Holy shit.”

“Shut the fuck up, Jeon.” You sit up, reach for him. You need to gain some semblance of control. “Take your shirt off.”

He complies, yanking it off and tossing it aside. It dawns on you how agreeable he is to anything you say when you’re not in a press room. Hm. 

Your eyes can’t help but wander over his build. You always knew he had defined shoulders, strong shoulders, a sleeve of tattoos. But now the forbidden fruit that everyone has been dying to see is displayed in front of you, and a fluttering feeling erupts ferociously in your stomach. 

You push him backward on the bed. “My turn,” you declare, straddling his hips. His large hands fly to your waist, giving you all the power as though to keep you steady. 

“Yeah? What are you gonna do to me?”

Leaning down, your lips brush his ear, “Make you regret being so cocky.”

Slowly, you roll your hips against his hardened length. It’s experimental, but the groan that exits his mouth is anything but. You work your way lower, hands sliding over the ridges of his abs, feeling them contract under your touch. When you reach the waistband of his jeans, you undo the button, maintaining eye contact as you drag the zipper down tooth by tooth. 

The innate desire to win boils inside you. You can’t help but want it. It’s the same feeling you get when you’re the first to break a story, when you see his article go up an hour after yours and know you beat him. You’ve been competing with him for so long that you don’t know how to not turn this into a contest.

Hooking your fingers into his waistband, you prepare to pull his boxers and pants down in one go, and then suddenly, without preamble, your world is being tilted upside down. 

You feel your back hit the mattress, and his face comes into view, ears red and lips plump and wet and god, has he always been this beautiful?

“Jeon, what the fuck—”

“Still my turn,” he argues, kissing his way down to your stomach.

“Okay, no, I was—” You try to sit up, struggle against him, but he plants a hand firmly on you, pushing you back down. 

“You were taking too long.” He pauses, stares at your red underwear for a moment too long. His breath catches in his throat for a second, and then he yanks your underwear down your legs, flinging somewhere across his room.  “I’ve been patient enough. Don’t you think I’ve been good, [Y/N]?” His obsidian eyes follow yours, a plea behind them. 

But still, he can never have the upper hand. You can’t let him see behind the facade you’ve managed to uphold for years. “You can’t just—”

“Can’t what?” He presses a kiss to your inner thigh, inhaling your skin. Letting himself relish in your pheromones. 

Your fingers tangle in his hair, and you tug once, twice, trying to regain dominance. “Let me—”

“No.” He catches your wrist, pinning it against your hip. “I’ve been thinking about this for eight fucking years. You can wait five minutes.”

“Okay, first of all, I’m not gonna cum in five minutes, and second of all, that’s not fair—”

“Life’s not fair, sweetheart.” His teeth graze the side of your thigh, and you jolt backwards at the sensation, a whimper falling from your parted lips. “Now stop arguing with me and let me taste you.”

And without another word, his mouth is on your cunt. 

His tongue flattens over your folds, collecting as much arousal as possible before swirling circles over your clit. You’re not sure where the fuck he learned this—whether it’s natural talent or years of practice you don’t want to think about—but holy shit, the man eats pussy like he’s got something to prove.

His lips encircle your clit, sucking, milking you dry, tongue working underneath in rapid movements that have your thighs clamped around his head like earmuffs. 

“Been waiting to taste you for so fucking long.” He licks a thin stripe up your slit, pausing to let his tongue swirl around your sensitive nub. You jolt forward, gripping onto his hair for dear life. 

Why does he talk so much during sex? Vocalizes every damn thing, every word in his brain, and it sends shivers down your spine that reverberate in your stomach, those butterflies you thought were gone back tenfold. 

“Shut up,” you say through a moan, “and make me fucking cum, Jeon.” 

He looks up from between your legs, juices coating his lips and the tip of his nose. There’s a cocky smirk on his expression you want to slap off (and you really, really would if he wasn’t eating you out like his life depended on it). “Your wish is my command, sweetheart.”

He wraps his arms around your thighs until you’re certain all he’s able to breathe in is your scent. Like most girls, you’ve always been in your head during sex, cataloging insecurities, wondering if you’re taking too long or if you taste okay or if the person between your legs is getting bored.

But with Jungkook, he hasn’t stopped moaning into your glistening pussy, lapping you up eagerly as though he’s the best thing you ever tasted. 

The tip of his nose rubs against your clit, and “Fuck, right there, Jungkook,” leaves your mouth before you can stop it. He speeds up, and then your hips are bucking into his face until you’re grinding against him, taking and taking, chasing the friction of his nose while his tongue words inside you. And he fucking loves it—encourages it with his hands on your ass, pulling you closer, harder, like he wants you to suffocate him.

“That’s it,” he mutters, his thumb rubbing circles on your clit. “Use me. Take what you need.”

Hunger overtakes every nerve-ending inside you. Threading your fingers through his hair, you hold him there, rolling your hips against his face in desperation. You can feel his smile against you, can hear the obscene wet sounds of his mouth and tongue working you over, can feel the way he’s completely given himself over to this.

Your mind is scrambled, words falling limp on your tongue. 

“You’re so—ahh—shit—”

“So what?” He inserts two fingers into your sopping entrance, and you clench around them. “Finish your sentence, baby.”

“Annoying,” you gasp, “Fucking annoying.”

It’s not true, you think, none of it is true, could never be true, not when he can unravel me like this. 

“Yeah?” He pumps his fingers faster, finding your sweet spot, and your back arches clean off the mattress. “Tell me more. Love it when you insult me while I’m knuckle-deep in your pussy.”

You’re close, so close, and he knows it. It all crashes into you, so suddenly that it takes you a moment to know it’s coming. Years and years, months and months, minutes and minutes of tantalizing, teasing him, and your entire body melts into him naturally. Your core throbs around his fingers, sucking in him and he groans. “Fuck, come on baby. Let me feel it. I want to taste your cum. Bet it’s so fucking sweet.”

“Oh god—I’m gonna—” You can’t even finish the sentence before your orgasm washes over you, stealing oxygen from your lungs and making your legs shake. White-hot relief floods over your body, sweat dripping down the valley of your breasts. Your walls practically suck his fingers in, and you can hear him groaning at the situation. 

You can’t remember the last time you’ve cum that hard with a man. 

Jungkook tentatively pulls his fingers out, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh before sitting back on his heels. He’s pleased with himself, so much so that you want to dropkick him. 

His eyes look over at the clock on his nightstand. “Four minutes, by the way.”

You’re too exhausted to throw a jab, too lost in the clouds to ever be brought back down.

“Good?” He cocks a brow, tongue licking over his lips to lap up at the remaining juices coating them, then moving on to his fingers. Maybe having sex with him twice isn’t such a bad…you abandon that train of thought before it can fully form. There’s nothing good down that line. 

“Don’t look so fucking smug, Jeon,” You prop yourself up on your elbows, eyeing him down. It would be a lot easier to hate him and his abilities if he wasn’t so good at everything, if he didn’t look ethereal with his disheveled hair and sculpted chest. 

He crawls back over your body, “I can’t help it. You should see yourself right now. All fucked out and pretty.”

With horror dawning upon you, you realize that once isn’t going to be enough.

Not even fucking close. 

“Your turn,” you murmur, nimble fingers reaching out for his buttons. A soft smirk rests on his features as he lets you, and you take the opportunity to shove him onto his back. He’s willing, eager, pliant under your hold as you straddle his thighs. They sit underneath you like a rock, and you have to beg the question what his workout routine is, because no one can be this bulky. He hasn’t skipped leg day once. 

“God, you’re such a dick, Jeon,” you mutter to no one but yourself before you fully yank down his bottoms. 

“Rich coming from you,” he retorts as he lifts his hips to help you. “You’ve been busting my balls for fucking years.”

“Because you deserve it,” you point out. Tossing his jeans aside, the tent in his Calvin Klein boxers glares back at you. It’s disgusting how quick your mouth waters with need, a craving to see what’s underneath and take him whole. There’s already a wet spot forming on the fabric, and those little flutters return in your belly with a vengeance. “Someone needs to keep your ego in check.”

His laugh hits like a slap to the face, “My ego?” He shakes his head. “Hilarious. You fucking walk around like you’re god’s gift to journalism.”

“I am god’s gift to journalism.”

“And I’m supposed to be the one with the ego problem?” he scoffs. “You’re delusional.”

“You’ve gotta be compensating for something. We all are.” You palm his erection through his boxers, squeezing softly. His head falls back, abdomen muscles taut. “Wonder what that could be.”

“Fuck you,” he says through gritted teeth, but his hips roll into your hand. 

Hooking your fingers into his boxer briefs, your heart beats an erratic pattern that echoes in your brain. There’s no going back, no undoing the damage of what you’ve already done. 

But it was always inevitable, wasn’t it? Written in the stars, fated, destined. All those romance novel words you’ve always rolled your eyes at because real life doesn’t work like that… except apparently it does, because here you are, about to fuck your rival in a scene so cliche that some Tumblr author is definitely writing this exact scenario right now. 

What’s that trope Rosalie always talks about? Enemies to lovers? Rivals to lovers?

But despite the predictability of it all, it doesn’t really feel frivolous at all. 

In fact, it feels as though you’ve been tiptoeing this line with him for eight years without realizing it. 

You lean down a little to tug his boxers even further, and the scent of his cologne wafts by your nose as you do. 

Bergamot and cedar. 

Smells like him, smells like every press conference you’ve sat through trying not to notice when he’s near, like every accidental brush in a crowded hallway, like every college lecture where you got forced to pair up with him. 

Weirdly enough, you think you would be okay if you were to smell like that too. 

Want his scent on your skin like a claim, want to go home tonight and catch traces of bergamot and cedar on your sheets and remember this.

But if you think about that too much, you’ll leave. 

“You wish,” you snort, continuing to drag his boxers down until his hardened cock slaps against his lower stomach. “Actually, wait—you have been wishing that for eight years, haven’t you? That’s kind of pathetic.”

“You’re one to talk. You’re the one who—shit—”

His words cut off as he realizes he’s leaking precum onto his skin, the tip flushed and crimson. 

Yeah, he’s got nothing to compensate for. 

“I’m the one who what?” you blink innocently, wrapping your hand around him, giving him one slow stroke from base to tip. “Cat got your tongue?”

“You’re the one who’s been—fuuck—been eye-fucking me across press rooms for years,” His voice cracks on the last syllable. “Don’t act like you haven’t thought about this too.”

“I haven’t,” you lie. “Not even once.”

“Bullshit.”

You lick a stripe up the underside of his cock, across a vein that protrudes, one kitten lick from base to tip, and his body shivers underneath you. “Holy shit,” he exhales, tendons in his neck poking out. “Holy shit, wait—”

But you don’t listen to his protests. You take him into your mouth, tip first, swirling your tongue around the head and tasting the salt of his precum. His fingers thread through your hair, gripping the strands as best as he can without hurting you. “Fuck,” he groans, “Fuck, right there—your mouth is perfect—”

You take him deeper, deeper, hollowing your cheeks and letting his tip brush against the back of your throat. A moan almost escapes you at how blissful you feel being in control of him. 

“Wait, wait, stop—” The grip in your hair tightens, and he;s actually tugging you off him, which—what?

With a pop, you release his cock from your mouth, brows furrowed. “What?”

“I’m gonna cum,” he bluntly blurts, “Like right now. If you keep going, I’m done.”

You laugh. He’s joking, surely he is. This is part of some evil plan. But his face doesn’t change, lips don’t twitch like they always do when he’s lying. 

Oh gosh. He’s serious. 

Now you do snort. “Oh my god. Are you serious? One lick? That’s all it took?”

“Shut up,” he mutters, and is he—is he blushing? Jungkook Jeon is blushing, splotches of red painting his neck and cheeks. 

“No, this is amazing,” you smile. “The great Jungkook Jeon, laid low by a single lick of a blowjob. Should I call Fox News? This feels like breaking news.”

“I said shut up.” He grabs your waist, hauling you up his body. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this. So yeah, excuse me for being a little too into it.”

You don’t really want to think about how long he’s been fantasizing about you. 

“A little?” You raise a brow, planting your palms on his toned chest to steady yourself. “Jungkook, I barely touched you. What are you gonna do when we actually fuck? Cum the second you get inside me?”

His jaw clenches. “You wanna find out?”

“Honestly?” You tilt your head, pause for a moment to let your eyes meet his gaze. “I’m a little worried you won’t last long enough for me to enjoy it.”

“Always gotta get the last word in,” he grunts, and you feel his hands shift onto your hips, flipping you onto your back again. 

“Jeon!” you squeal. 

“I’m giving myself a second,” he says, reaching for the nightstand drawer and pulling out a condom. “And making sure when I fuck you, you remember it for the rest of your life.”

He rips open the packet with his teeth, rolling the condom onto his length. He moans as he does it, then strokes himself a few times, hair falling into his eyes. 

“Big talk from someone who almost blew his load from a kitten lick,” you can’t help but point out.

He looks down at you, and the intensity in his gaze makes your heart thrash in your chest wildly. “Keep talking shit. See where it gets you.”

“Where’s it gonna get me, Jeon?”

He leans down, hot breath against the shell of your ear. “Fucked until you forget every insult you’ve ever thrown at me.”

He positions himself at your entrance, head of his cock sliding through your folds, slipping easily from how aroused you are. Your own body can’t help but betray you. The slow movements send your eyes rolling back into your skull, and you squirm underneath his weight. 

“Impatient?” he tuts. 

“Bored,” you lie. “You gonna do something?”

“There she is,” he murmurs. “Can’t even let me have one moment without being a brat.”

“You’d miss it if I stopped.”

“Yeah.” He pushes the head of his cock in, and you already feel so fucking stuffed, so full beyond belief. Your nails dig crescent moons into his biceps. “I really fucking would.”

And then he slides his entire length in, painstakingly slow, enough that you can feel every vein and every ridge of his cock. Your folds suck him in greedily, wanting more and more and more. You both let out a gasp in unison, and his teeth nibble at his lip piercing as he bottoms out in you. “Fuck,” you moan, eyes closing to bask in the pleasure. 

“You good?” He stays still inside you, allowing you to get used to his size, but nothing could’ve prepared you for how full you feel. 

“Move,” you demand, because you’re not about to admit how good he feels, how perfectly he fills you. “Jesus Christ, Jungkook, just—”

He pulls out until just his tip is buried in you, and then slams back in, with a force that sends you a few inches back on his mattress. “Like that?” His rhythm is punishing, fingertips bruising your hips as he holds onto you. “Is this what you want?”

“Yes—fuck—yes—” you blab. Every coherent thought you own shrivels up with each thrust of his cock. 

“Always bossin' me around,” he grunts, hips moving faster, hitting your sweet spot with each movement. “Always gotta be in control, don’t you?”

“Someone has to be—oh fucking shit—” Your nails rake down a crimson path down his biceps. That’s just about the only jab you can give, because then his hand is coming to wrap around your throat. 

“Not tonight, baby. Tonight, you’re gonna take what I give you.”

Your head swims below water, your senses overwhelmed. All you can smell is his familiar scent, letting it overtake you completely. 

Jungkook’s thumb presses against your throat, and your pussy clenches around him. “Oh, you like that,” he grins, leaning down to press a chaste kiss to your lips. “Course you do. Bet you’ve been wanting someone to shut that pretty mouth up for years.” 

“Fuck you,” you spit, and he chuckles breathily. 

“Already doing that, sweetheart. Try again.” 

You grab onto his wrist, not to pull his hand away, but to encourage him. 

“Harder,” you command, and you don’t even know if you mean his hand or his thrust, but he gives you both. He’ll give you anything you want, you think. 

His hips piston faster, fucking into you with a harshness that has your body writhing underneath him. Your pussy squelches, the bed rocking back and forth in tandem with his thrusts. “Oh fuck, right there, right fucking there,” you squeal, making a soaked noise at the back of your throat. 

“Eight years..” he grunts, hiking your leg higher up on his waist. “You fucking know what eight years does to a guy? My cock shriveled up into itself. Everytime I looked at you for too long, I had to look away.” 

Your walls twitch around his length, a natural instinctive thing you try to ignore even though you know he won’t let you. Jungkook brushes the hair out of your face, taking your jaw in his hand and ensuring your fucked-out eyes meet his. “You like that, hm? Like knowing what you do to me, what you’ve fucking done to me for years? Not so tough now, hm?” 

You need him to fuck into you without abandon, need his cock to fill you up until it feels like the only thing you can feel is him. Until his DNA mingles with yours, until you’re suffocated by every part of him. “Fuck you, Jeon. If I wanted to be chastised by you, I would’ve shown up to the Fox press room, not your apartment.” 

His mouth surges into yours, a sloppy kiss full of saliva and teeth clanging but your lips find him just as easy. You melt into him. When he pulls away, his eyes are swallowed whole by black. “Your mouth…” he laughs to himself. “Your mouth always gets you in trouble, doesn’t it?” 

You smirk. “That’s what they say.” 

You’re almost certain your juices are coating the bed below you. Your hands scramble to drag more marks down his biceps. Little puffs of air escape your mouth, something between a moan and a groan, all you can muster when he’s so fucking deep inside you, deeper than any man’s ever been. “Well then, how about we shut that pretty little mouth up?”

His hips buck wildly, balls slapping against the mounds of your ass. Your breasts bounce with the force of it, and your mouth drops open, sounds pouring from you that you’re not sure you’ve ever made before. “This what you need?” His voice strains to get the words out. “Need me to fuck you like you’re mine?”

“I’m not yours,” you say, but your body is telling a different story. Arching into him, meeting him thrust for thrust, keening for him. 

“Yeah?” He releases the grip around your jaw, hand traveling south to your throbbing cunt. “Then why are you so wet for me?”

“Shut up—”

“Make me, baby.” His thumb traces your clit. “Oh wait, you can’t. Too busy taking my cock.”

You’re completely at his mercy, reducing you to nothing but carnal desire and need. 

“Just keep going,” you moan, “Right fucking there, Jungkook.”

“Here?” He rolls his hips again, his pelvic bone meeting your clit. Your vision whites at the edges, blurs with each movement. “Yeah, I know.  Been paying attention, baby. I know exactly what you need.”

You cum with a strangled whimper, clenching around his cock, the only thing keeping you tethered to earth is his hand on your clit and his weight above you.

“That’s it,” he encourages, “Fuck, you’re so pretty when you cum.”

His thrusts slow, grinding against you enough to prolong your orgasm until you’re shaking and pushing at his chest to get him away. 

“Knew I could make you feel good.” He’s still hard inside you, but you feel his length twitching, affected even if he hasn’t cum yet. “I knew you’d be perfect.”

“Aghh—don’t—” you weakly protest, although you don’t know what for. 

“Can’t handle me being right for once?” He experimentally rolls his hips, and even oversensitive, it feels blissful. “Admit it. This is the best you’ve ever had.”

You can’t admit it. But fuck, it’s so true it makes your throat tight and your eyes sting. 

You’ve never felt pleasure like this. Other men never learned how you liked to be touched, even if you were to draw a diagram for them. They fade into a blur of adequate-at-best experiences that you told yourself were good enough because you didn’t know it could be different. Jungkook can read your body, and can denote every sound you make. Can understand you even with just the noises your body can make. 

He loved studying, you were sure of it. You just had never thought that maybe, all this time, his favorite subject to study had been you. 

“You haven’t even cum yet,” you point out instead of answering. “Little premature for victory laps, don’t you think?”

He scoffs, and, well…that’s the breaking point for you. 

Planting your hands on his chest, you push him off, and he curiously lets you. You use the momentum to flip your positions, straddling his hips with his cock still buried inside you. “Fucking hell,” he exhales, hands flying to your waist to steady you. His eyes are wide, pupils blown, and for the first time tonight he looks caught off guard. “What are you—”

“My turn.” You roll your hips, and both of you groan. In this position, it feels like he’s hitting your cervix, feels like you could die of bliss right here at this very moment.

His fingers dig into your skin. “Fuck, [Y/N].” His gaze drags over every detail of your body, pausing where your walls engulf his length entirely. “You’re so fucking gorgeous like this.”

Those weird flutters in your stomach return, and so you mutter, “Stop talking,” but there’s no real bite behind it. 

You move yourself up and down, slowly at first. His cock glides in and out of you with ease, your cunt clenching around him, your body unable to relinquish its hold on him. "Can't help it,” he grits out, hands sliding up to cup your breasts, thumbs brushing over your sensitive nipples. “You have no idea how many times I’ve pictured this. You riding me, these perfect tits bouncing, how fucking tight and wet you’d be for me.”

“God, you’re a pervert,” you chastise as you lean back, palms planting themselves on his large thighs for stability. 

“Yeah, and you fucking love it.” He thrusts up to meet you. “Don’t even deny it. Your pussy gets so tight when I talk dirty to you.”

“That’s just—physiological response—” You’re all but slamming yourself onto his cock now. The frantic slap of skin on skin fills the room, his little moans sending another wave of arousal coursing through your veins. 

He’s grinning at you like the asshole he is. “You really can’t just admit you like something, can you? Always gotta be so fucking difficult.”

You lean forward, tits bouncing in his face, and his eyes nearly roll back into his skull. “I’m the easiest person in the world. You’re just incompetent.”

“Oh, right,” he chuckles. “Cause I just made you cum twice with my incompetence.”

“Beginner’s luck,” you retort. 

“Yeah?” His hands slide to grip the plush skin of your ass, controlling your movements, making you take him deeper. “Let’s test that theory.”

Jungkook firmly plants his feet into the mattress, fucking up into you with a brutal force that has you screaming, holding onto his headboard as though you might fall off. “Fuck, you’re so hot,” he moans, “Love watching you take my cock like this.”

He sits up, wrapping an arm around your waist to hit a different angle, one that lets him finally take the control back that you had tried to steal from him. You can feel him getting harder inside you, breathing ragged, and there’s something intoxicating about having him.

“Fuck,” he grits out, “Fuck, your pussy is insane, I’m gonna—”

“Already?” You force yourself to focus through the haze of pleasure, seizing the opportunity to torture him. “Seriously? We just started, Jeon.”

“Shut the fuck up, no we didn’t,” His head lolls back, bottom lip tucked underneath his front teeth. His cock twitches inside you. “You feel too good—fuck—I can’t—”

“Eight years of alleged pining and you can’t even last five minutes?” You would feel bad about how mean you’re being if he didn’t look so wrecked, if the desperation on his face wasn’t so satisfying. “That’s embarrassing for you.”

“I swear to god, [Y/N],” His sentence is cut off by his desperate thrusts upward one, two, three more times before his body goes rigid. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

Jungkook groans and tenses, emptying into the condom. His cock pulses inside you, bicep muscles straining. The vein in his neck pops out, a blush creeping across his neck. Okay—fine—it’s kind of hot watching him orgasm. But you’re not about to tell him that.

Your movements slow until they’re almost stagnant, and all you want to do is kiss him silly but you can’t, so you settle on what you do best with him. “That was fast. I mean, I’ve had guys last for thirty minutes tops—”

Before you can finish the aggravating sentence, his hands are on your waist, lifting you off him. A yelp of surprise escapes you as he maneuvers you onto your knees beside him on the bed. “Jungkook!”

“Stay on your knees,” he orders, and his tone forces you to comply without a second thought. 

His hand is in your hair, gathering the strands and pulling your head back so you’re forced to look at him. His face is flushed with a crimson glow, hair disheveled and eyes hungrily awaiting for more. “You think you’re so funny,” he says. “Running your mouth, making fun of me.”

“It was kinda funny—”

“Open,” he interrupts. Hesitating, you don’t move. He tugs your hair. “I said open.”

Your mouth falls open wide, and he guides your head down toward his cock. The condom has been disposed of, and he’s still half hard, leftover cum leaking from his tip. 

“Clean me up.”

You would probably tell him where to shove his orders under normal circumstances, but you find yourself leaning forward, tongue darting out to lick a stripe up his length. He hisses, grip in your hair tightening. “That’s it, baby. Get me hard again.”

“You’re so bossy,” you say as you jerk him off, his cock already beginning to harden once more. You take him into your mouth whole, tasting the saltiness on your tongue. 

“You fucking love it,” he counters, running his thumb over your cheek. “You love being told what to do, don’t you?”

Your response is to take him deeper, cheeks hollowing and tongue swirling over his tip. You can feel his length taking up square footage in your palm and mouth. Cupping his balls, you roll them gently, and his hips desperately buck forward. “Shit,” he curses, “Should’ve known you’d be good at this.” 

With a pop, you release him to say, “Good at everything, actually,” before taking him back in your mouth. 

“Cocky,” he hums. “Even with your mouth full of my cock.”

You fight the urge to roll your eyes.  You can feel him getting harder with each pass of your tongue. Your hand jerks off the parts of him that can’t fit in your mouth, and his cock twitches in excitement. Each time you hollow your cheeks, he lets out a whimper that sounds like he might cry, “Jesus Christ,” he mutters, head thudding against the headboard. “Yeah, just like that, baby.” 

A flutter arises in the center of your sore cunt. You move faster, and let your saliva fall down to his balls, spreading to any dry skin. His breathing shallows, chest rising and falling with each pump. “Okay, okay, stop,” He tugs your hair, pulling you off him. It takes you a few moments to regain your composure, to wipe the tears brimming your eyes and the saliva off your lips. “I’m good, more than good.”

And when you look down, his cock is standing tall, the tip flushed and angry. 

“Show off,” you smirk. 

“Says the woman who just sucked me hard again in under two minutes,” he snorts, slowly beginning to stroke himself. “Lay down. I’m finishing what I started.”

You comply, which is a shock to you and him both. But really, you can chalk it up to how undeniably soaked you are, how two orgasms wasn’t enough. It’s just been a while since you’ve had sex, not for any other reason in particular. It’s most definitely not because Jungkook Jeon is some kind of sex god (which, by all means, you should’ve seen coming).

He moves to position himself between your legs again, and you watch as he lines himself up at your entrance. His thumb collects the juices gathering between your folds, letting himself taste it before looking back at you. 

Suddenly self-conscious, you ask, “What?” 

“I want…” he trails off, as though he’s trying to find the right words in his brain. “Fuck, I want to feel you.”

It takes your sex-fogged brain a second to understand what he’s asking. “You want to go raw?”

“Yeah.” His hand slides up your thigh, thumb tracing patterns on your skin. “I’m clean. Got tested last month. And I know you’re on birth control, I heard you mention it to Emma once.”

“You fucking creep.” You roll your eyes but your heart is pounding. “You pay attention to my choice of contraceptive?”

“I pay attention to everything about you.” 

You probably shouldn’t. Jungkook isn’t someone you should be having raw sex, because somehow, that complicates things more than it already is. You’re already operating at quadratic equation levels of messy. 

But you’re so turned on you can barely think straight. 

“I’m clean too. I got tested two weeks ago,” you admit. 

His eyes are fixated on your face, finger dragging a long line from your hip down to your thigh. “That’s not a yes.”

“Yes,” you blurt, and yeah—there’s the begging he predicted, “Please, Jungkook. I want to feel you too.”

“Fuck,” you both gasp in unison as he pushes into you bare, allowing you to feel every ridge and vein on his cock. 

He leans over you until you can feel his hot breath puffing against your neck, forehead falling to your shoulder. “Holy shit—you feel so fucking good—”

“Move,” you moan, legs wrapping around his waist. “Please move.”

He doesn;t hold back, fucking into you relentlessly. The headboard slams against the wall with each thrust, and you distantly hope his neighbors aren’t home because there's no way they wouldn’t hear this. “Oh, fuck, fuck yes,” you babble. He feels so good, too good, and without the condom you can feel the heat of him, the way his length pulses inside you. His lips nip at your shoulder, teeth grazing over your collarbone. 

He groans into your ear and the sound reverberates in your brain. “Did you know I used to jerk off after our debates in college? Used to get me so fucking hard the way you used to run your mouth.” 

No, no you didn’t know that at all. You’re starting to think you don’t know a lot of things. 

He angles his hips to hit your g-spot, and you’re shaking all over, so far gone you can’t even feel your own muscles anymore. “Let me hear you, baby. Want everyone to know who’s fucking you this good.”

“Arrogant… asshole,” you struggle to speak, your brain a pile of mush.

“Yeah?” His hand navigates to your clit, rubbing circles. You muffle a scream into his neck, and you catch a whiff of his woodsy scent again, and it feels like you’re drowning in him, drowning in Jungkook. “But I’m your asshole right now, hm? Aren’t I? Say it.”

“Fuck off.”

“Say it,” he grits through his teeth, his tongue sucking a purple bruise onto your collarbone. Your toes curl in anticipation, your orgasm creeping up on you. “Say you’re mine. Just for tonight.”

“Jeon.”

“Say it or I fucking stop.” He stills his hips, rhythm slowing, and you want to rip his head off. 

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.” His cock twitches inside you, betraying how much he needs this, needs you too. 

“Fine, fuck—fine, I’m yours," you force out, and you remind yourself it doesn’t mean anything, that you’re just saying what he wants to hear. “Just for tonight. Now fucking move.”

The kiss he plants on your lips is equally as sloppy as his thrusts, filled with yours and his moans. His thumb stays steady on your clit, and you can feel yourself hurtling toward that familiar edge. “Gonna cum,” you warn, nails digging into his shoulders, lips swollen against his. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

“Cum on my cock, baby,” His voice cracks, face buried in the crook of your shoulder. “Gonna make me cum too. I’m gonna—shit, where can I cum?”

Your mind is a whirlpool of thoughts, a tsunami of sensations overtaking you. Your pussy clenches around him, sucks him in as your entire body spasms for the third time tonight. 

You know just where you want it. 

“Inside,” you gasp. “Cum inside me.”

That’s all he needs to hear. He buries himself to the hilt with a guttural groan, and you feel him pulse as his cock fills you with his warm seed, painting your walls. 

Jungkook nearly falls on top of you, both of you breathing hard. Sweat trickles down your back in steady tracks. For several minutes, or what might be hours, neither of you move. You lay there in the silence, hearts thrumming erratically, basking in what you had just done. 

Jungkook inevitably pulls out, lies beside you, staring up at his ceiling. His cum leaks out of you, drop by drop, and you let it. 

“Jungkook,” you quietly begin, and he turns to face you. You think he might tell you to get out, or maybe grab tissues or head to the bathroom to do any of the normal post-sex things people do.

But he does none of those. He kisses your cheeks, your jaw, back down your body like he’d never left it. 

“What are you—” you start, but he suckles your nipple between his lips. 

“Not done with you yet,” he finally murmurs against your skin. 

“I came three times, I can’t take anymore.”

Or, well, maybe you can, you’re just not really sure. You’ve never gotten to this point with a man before. 

“Just wanna clean you up,” he mumbles in response, almost incoherent. He sounds drunk. 

“That’s disgusting,” you say, and your voice wavers because he’s already pressing kisses to your inner thighs, getting closer to where you’re sopping wet and messy and dripping with evidence of what you just did.

“Is it?” he hums. “Or are you scared you’ll just like it?”

“I won’t—oh fuck—”

Jungkook Jeon is not allowed to be right this many times, but then his tongue is on you, licking a stripe up your slit, tasting the mixture of yourself and him. Your hips lift to meet his mouth, and the thought dawns on you: he is right. That you do like it. That there’s something about the depravity of it—about him being so eager to taste both of you, so unbothered by what should be a boundary—that makes butterflies simmer low in your belly all over again.

“Tastes so good,” he slurs, “Tastes like us.”

“Nghhh—shit, I’m too sensitive, Jungkook—ahhh.” You wriggle under his grasp. 

His tongue circles your clit before dipping into your entrance to lap at the mixture seeping out of you. “Want you oversensitive. Want you to feel this next time you’re sitting across from me in the press room.”

He curls two fingers inside you, gathering the last of the cum dripping out of you. Your fingers scramble for purchase, bunching his blanket into your fists. Once he finally deems you clean enough, he presses a few more kisses to your thigh. 

Tiredly, you lift your eyes to meet his. His face is a mess, lips slick and chin glistening with your arousal. He looks so satisfied with himself you want to be annoyed but you’re too wrung out to manage it.

“You good?” he asks, plopping his body beside you. 

“Yeah.”

In the aftermath, there’s nothing but a quiet buzz in your brain. 

Your mind likes to move. Fight or flight has been your default setting for so long. 

But a pleasant hum has settled in your bones, one that is terrifyingly blissful.  No contingency plans. No exit strategies. 

It’s as though you’re at the edge of a cliff, that moment where your brain chooses flight and screams at you to step back, to choose safety, and yet, it does the opposite. 

In the corner of Jungkook’s wall, there’s a water stain shaped like a star. Reminds you of the stars you told your mom you always wanted to see in DC. 

“Your ceiling has water damage.”

“That’s what you’re thinking about?” He snorts. “You gonna do a home inspection right now?”

Thinking about the water stain is better than thinking about a lot of things. “The ceiling could cave in. You don’t wanna recreate the Titanic, do you?”

“It was a good movie. I wouldn’t mind it.”

“It was an okay movie. Not worth reliving, in my opinion.”

“You told Jenna and Emma you cry over it everytime you’re on your period.”

Your body stiffens. “Another bullet on the list of creepy things you remember about me.”

“Everything about you is worth remembering.”

You can’t bear to look at him. The reality of it all is catching up. Up until a few weeks ago, you didn’t even know sex with Jungkook Jeon was something you wanted. It was so far-fetched you would laugh even if a psychic predicted it themselves. 

And now, all of a sudden, it’s all very real, very undeniable. 

“You should get that fixed,” you sigh. “Water damage can lead to mold.”

“I’ve been meaning to. I will soon,” he replies. 

This was supposed to be just sex. A one-time thing to get it out of your system. A recommendation from Rosalie, a way to take the edge off. It wasn’t supposed to feel like this, like something you could get used to and then lose.

Panic claws up your throat. You bolt upright, moving off the bed. “Do you have a shirt I can borrow?”

He blinks at you, eyebrow cocked in confusion. “What?” His hair is unruly, eyes glazed over. The sight ignites something soft inside you. 

“A shirt. T-shirt. Whatever.” Your eyes survey the room. “I need to pee. And drink some water, maybe.”

“Yeah, hold on,” He gets up, naked and completely unselfconscious about it, and rummages through his dresser. He pulls out an oversized black t-shirt with some faded band logo. “Here.”

With shaky hands, you take it and put it on. It’s loose on your frame, hugs you like a warm blanket fresh out of the dryer. It smells just like him, just as everything else he owns. Smells like his Columbia sweatshirt. Smells like New York. Smells like things you need to stop fucking thinking about. 

“You better not get a UTI on my watch,” he jokes, tugging his boxers on and flopping back onto the bed. “That would be bad for my reputation.”

“Your reputation as what? A walking sex health ad?”

“As someone who takes care of his partners,”  he corrects, and the word ‘partners’ makes your insides turn to goo. “I can’t have you going to the doctor next week explaining how Jungkook Jeon gave you a urinary tract infection. Fox would have a field day.”

“Fox would throw a parade.” You roll your eyes. 

His eyes soften. “Do you need anything? Water? I can run you a bath if you want.”

Your stomach sinks to the ground. 

Taking care of yourself has never been something you let others do for you. Growing up, there was no one else to do it. Your mom worked to keep the lights on; you learned to pack your own lunches by age seven, do your own laundry by nine, navigate the bus system alone by eleven. 

You got good at it, prided yourself on never needing anyone, never asking for help. After all, it's what makes you an intense journalist. You’ll do whatever it takes to get the story. 

Jungkook, though, has offered you as much help as he can possibly give. In tiny ways, he shows up for you. He orders Ubers, carries you on his back, remembers your coffee order, your favorite alcohol. 

Holds your worries the same as his own, even when those worries involve him being the enemy.

“Bathroom’s the second door on the left.” He breaks your spiral. “Yell if you need me.”

“Thanks,” you swallow thickly. “I’ll just—yeah.”

You flee the bedroom, rushing down the hallway, passing his bathroom. You just keep running and running, bare feet padding against hardwood. You need water and distance and time to shove all these feelings back into the box where they belong.

His kitchen is aesthetically pleasing, like something straight out of a Martha Stewart catalogue. It’s spotless, nothing like the frat house decor you anticipated. The counters are built from expensive quartz you see in renovation shows, a soft grey that catches the light from the pendant fixtures hanging overhead. He has an impressive collection of dishes, glassware, everything neatly organized. 

Oh god. 

Opening the fridge, you search for the water. He’s stocked with vegetables, meal-prepped lunches, bottles of fancy European water. You grab one at random and crack it open. 

But even then, the water doesn’t alleviate the tightness in your chest. 

Your feet carry themselves further into his apartment, water bottle gripped tightly in your hand. To your left, the living room opens up, and it still doesn’t match the minimalist bachelor pad you conjured up in your head. 

On the wall, there are family photos. Jungkook as a kid, gap-toothed and grinning. His two front teeth resemble those of a bunny, even now. Another of him with what looks like an older brother, both of them in soccer uniforms, arms slung around each other’s shoulders. One of his whole family at what might be a wedding, everyone dressed up, his mom’s hand on his shoulder.

Glimpses of a life you never wanted to know about. 

On a desk in the far corner, he has an impressive gaming system. PlayStation 5, Nintendo Switch, high-end headphones, the works. There’s another desk beside it, which you assume is his work space if the pens and highlighters are anything to go by. There’s books on the shelf above, so many books. Political theory, Klein, authors you’ve spent your own nights reading and annotating. Congressional records and policy analysis, books on media bias and the history of American journalism. Jungkook has always been intelligent—you’ve never been able to deny that, even at your most competitive. But this is different. This is seeing the architecture of his mind laid bare, and it’s... it’s like looking in a mirror.

“How to Win Friends and Influence People” by Dale Carnegie, wedged between Machiavelli’s “The Prince” and a biography of Walter Cronkite. You softly snort, chuckling to yourself. 

There’s Orwell and Hemingway, literary fiction you wouldn’t have pegged him for. A book on the history of the Korean War, several on economic policy. One on attachment theory that makes you pause—why the hell does he have a psychology book about relationships?

Your eyes drift to the top shelf. There’s more picture frames, family photos, pictures from graduation, him with some other guys you don’t recognize. 

But on the far right, turned at a slight angle, there’s a frame you can’t quite make out. 

Curiosity sparks within you, and you reach up, standing on your tiptoes to bring the frame down. 

Your mouth becomes so dry your tongue sticks to the roof. 

It’s you. 

You and him in New York, Monroe’s press conference. You two are sitting together, smiling at each other. 

Your brain has checked out a while ago, just feelings bubbling up inside, emotions coursing through your veins.

The photograph captures everything. His body is angled towards you, his smile radiant. You mirror his expression, eyes twinkling. 

How long has he been looking at you like that?

It all comes flashing back in snapshots now, pieces of that day you didn’t pay attention to at the time. The photographer, some guy with too many cameras, weaving through the crowd, snapping photos of everyone. Jungkook lingering by the photographer, talking to him, gesturing at the camera display.

He wasn’t networking, or doing that thing where he becomes friends with everyone with disgusting charm. He was getting this picture, asking for a copy of this specific moment, getting it printed and framed. Putting it on his shelf where he sees it everyday.

Why the fuck would he do that? Why would he want a photograph of you, of all people? His rival. His competition. 

Your hands are shaking as you place the frame back on the shelf, trying to position it exactly how it was. Your heart is hammering so hard you can feel it in your throat.

Your feet carry you back to his bedroom, and he’s on his phone when you push the door open, propped up against his headboard in his boxers. When you enter, he immediately glances up, phone tossed aside without another thought. “You okay?” he asks. 

“Fine,” You force a smile. Your eyes scan the room for your clothes. Your underwear is by the foot of the bed, bra somehow ended up on his desk chair. Your blouse is crumpled on the floor near the door. “Where did my pants go?”

“Uh… by the window?” He stands up, looking around. “You heading out?”

“Yeah.” You find your pants, clutching your clothes to your chest. “I’ve got a busy day. You know how it is.”

“Oh, cool,” he quietly says. 

“Never stops, right? The news cycle waits for no one,” you nervously chuckle, clambering to put yourself together, 

“Right.” You can’t tell what he’s thinking as he watches you. “Do you need a ride?”

“It’s fine.”

“It’s late at night.” He raises a brow. 

“People Uber at night all the time, Jungkook. It’s not like I’m going to get murdered in America’s great capital.”

“I’m happy to drive you or order you a car,” he says nonchalantly, like it’s water sliding off his back. 

“No, no it’s fine. You should sleep. I’ll be okay.”

There’s a long pause. You’re still not looking at him, too busy trying to figure out how to put your bra back on while holding all your other clothes.

Once you’ve finally got your shirt back on, you say, “This was fun. We got it out of our systems… cleared the air. We can go back to normal now.”

Jungkook looks at you with real resignation scrunching up his face, and you feel like an idiot. “If that’s what you want.”

You don’t know what the fuck you want, but you know that staying here in his apartment with his books and his photos and his picturesque kitchen will make you want things you can’t have.

You feel the need to keep going. “This was—it was good. Really good. But we work together, kind of, and it would be weird if—we can’t—”

“I get it,” he interrupts, “No need to explain.”

But you feel like you do need to explain, need to make sure he understands that this isn’t about him—except the entire thing is about him.

“Don’t treat me any different now that you’ve seen me naked,” You try to crack a joke, but neither of you laugh. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

At the threshold of his bedroom door, some part of you is screaming that you’re making a mistake, that you should turn around and… what? Confess that seeing that photo made your heart stop? Admit that the way he takes care of you terrifies you because you’ve never let anyone do that before? Ask him what the hell he was thinking?

But you don’t do any of those things. 

Instead, you tightly smile and say, “See you around.”

“Yeah. I’ll see you.”

level 2: “new players joined the lobby”

you wake up to fucking murder.

well, not literal murder, but the kind of skull-splitting, brain-throbbing pain that feels like someone replaced your brain with a marching band and let them rehearse at full volume.

a groan crawls out of your throat.

“ugh… who let the fucking construction workers into my fucking head? make it stop, oh my god.”

you blink slowly. your lashes stick together. your tongue feels like an old unwashed carpet. you try to move, but the covers are heavier than you remember, heavier and softer and definitely not the familiar pink duvet you stole from ikea three years ago.

wait a damn minute.

this isn’t your bed?

and this isn’t your room?

the air smells… masculine? like clean soap, and something like cedarwood maybe? there’s a low electronic hum coming from somewhere, and the faint clicking of a keyboard.

you try to turn your head and big mistake. your brain sloshes painfully. you squint through half-lidded eyes.

yeah. nope. this definitely isn’t your room.

your room was a definition of mess and glitter: pastel curtains, fairy lights, and that stupid totoro plush that judges you every time you cry over mingyu’s instagram stories. but this room?

it’s spacious, like two times bigger than yours, and dim. the blinds are half-shut, letting narrow streaks of sunlight slice through the air. a sleek gaming setup glows in the corner: triple monitors, led lights bathing the walls in faint blue, a huge rolling chair slowly swiveling back and forth.

and sitting in that chair… is none other than jeon jungkook.

dark hair a little messy, frameless glasses sitting on the valley of his nose, headphone clamped over one ear, wrist flicking over the mouse with lazy precision.

you blink. trying to make sense of it all.

your heart forgets how to beat.

because– oh damn no. ain’t no fucking way.

you quickly look down at yourself out of pure reflexe.

you’re wearing a giant black t-shirt, too big to be yours. his, definitely his. it drapes over you like a blanket, swallowing your body all the way to your thighs. you shift slightly, and your bare legs peek out. no skirt. no top. no cardigan.

you slide your hand to your chest, feeling your breasts and nope. you’re definitely not wearing a bra either.

your heart takes off at the speed of sound. at least your panties are still on.... but,

what the freaking hell happened last night?

images flash in your head like chaotic film reels: the restaurant, you crying into your soju, jungkook looking two seconds away from uninstalling you from existence, your dramatic drunken speech about “men being trash except jungkook maybe?” him paying the bill, you tripping outside…

and then—

well…nothing.

just, blackout.

oh my god.

did you do what you think you did–

did you and him actually fuck?!?!?

did you just have sex with a guy (an extremely hot one) you literally just met?? (well you did play together for days before but that’s not the point)

your breath catches. you grip the sheets like a lifeline.

you’re not unfamiliar with random hook ups, you had your share of them. it usually occurs when you go out clubbing with hanni– you’d go home with one of the dudes that keep eye fucking you and that you actually find hot enough. of course that was before meeting mingyu.

but this? this is completely different. for one, you didn't have any intentions on sleeping with anyone, or else you’d have came prepared. but what’s even worse is the fact that you don’t remember anything?? you never ever have sex while drunk. hanni would be so disappointed.

you hear jungkook saying something then, voice low, deep, and way too calm for your current panic:

“jimin, go left. i said left, not–ah, whatever. you’re dead.”

you freeze. oh my god that fucking voice.

that’s the same voice that haunted you through a million matches in that dumb game. the same one that called you “reckless” when you charged into enemy spawn zones. the same one that made you nearly drop your headset once because of how smooth it sounded in your ear.

and it’s right here. real then ever. which only makes you realize more the situation you are in right now.

you make a tiny, accidental noise. something between a gasp and a dying hamster squeak. jungkook’s head turns slightly. he pulls one earcup off.

dark dreamy eyes. the sharpest jawline you have ever set eyes on. and that damn gorgeous expressionless face.

and you? you look like you just came straight out of a fucking crime scene.

so you panic as per instinct.

you fumble backward, try to stand, trip on the blanket, and immediately crash to the floor with the grace of a dying penguin. appealing.

“ah—!” you yelp, clutching your butt.

he stares at you, deadpan. then mutes his mic with a swift move, sets his controller down, and walks over.

oh my god he’s fucking coming over–

“you ’kay?” he says flatly.

his tone is so emotionless it feels like an insult.

you glare up at him, cheeks flaming. “do i look okay to you?!”

he blinks once. “you’re alive. so, yes?”

you almost combust. you clutch the blanket tighter around you, eyes wide and scandalized. “wha—what did you do to me?!”

he tilts his head, confusion written faintly across his otherwise unreadable face. “what?”

“you– you took advantage of me, didn’t you?! i– i’m practically naked!” you hiss, clutching the blanket tighter as if it’s a shield of moral integrity. “oh my god– did you– did we have sex– we did, didn’t we?! did you at least wear a condom? i’m on pills but still, i swear i–”

he blinks again. slowly. like he’s waiting for you to finish whatever nonsense you’re trying to say.

then, in the flattest tone known to humankind, he says:

“no.”

“no? you didn’t wear a condom?!?”

“we didn’t sleep together.”

you stare at him, waiting for more elaboration. but there is none.

you sputter. “that’s it? and you expect me to just believe that?!”

he sighs. the kind of long, world-weary sigh that sounds like he’s aged five years listening to you. like he’d rather be anywhere else. “you got drunk last night. cried. fell asleep on my back while i was walking you home. you wouldn’t tell me your address. so i brought you here.”

you blink. “...oh.”

he nods once. “yeah.”

“but—” you gesture wildly to your outfit, “why am i wearing your shirt, then? and nothing, literally nothing underneath, huh? explain that, jeon jungkook!”

his eyes flick briefly to the oversized shirt draped over you, something flashes in his eyes but it vanished as quickly as it appeared, then back up to your face. his jaw ticks. “because you started taking your clothes off. said you were feeling hot. i gave you my shirt to cover up.”

you feel your soul leave your body.

“i—i did what?!”

he shrugs, bored, and walks back to his desk not sparing you an other glance. “you heard me.”

you bury your face in the blanket. you forgot about a tiny little detail: you tend to get super sweaty when you get drunk. how fucking amazing.

“fucking kill me now,” you mutter into the fabric.

he sits back down, slides his headset on, and resumes his game like nothing happened. “you can leave whenever. your clothes and purse are on the nightstand.”

you peek over the blanket, scandalized. “that’s it? you’re so chill about it. you’re not even going to, like, get mad i took over your bed or something?”

he doesn’t turn around.

“you snored. it wasn’t that deep.”

you gape. “what? i don’t– i don’t snore??”

he glances over his shoulder. one brow arches ever so slightly– the tiniest trace of amusement, maybe, if you squint hard enough.

“sure.”

you want to throw something at him. anything.

instead, you sit there, hair a mess, drowning in his stupidly soft shirt, clutching the blanket like a traumatized victorian ghost while he calmly queues up another round of his game, his voice low as he says into the mic:

“yeah, i’m back. sorry, there was… an issue.”

issue.

you. you were the issue.

you press a palm to your face, groaning in existential defeat and embarrassment.

this was not how you planned for things to go.

not even close.

the silence in jungkook’s room hums louder than any hangover.

he’s still at his desk– back straight, headset on, completely absorbed as if the hot chaotic creature who drunkenly cried over her ex and fell asleep on his shoulder last night and accused him of having sex with her doesn’t exist three meters behind him clutching a comforter to her chest.

you hesitate for a long moment before moving. his fingers click over the keyboard, fast and precise, every motion clean and mechanical. the glow from his monitor casts faint light across his jawline– sharp, deliberate, too calm. it’s ridiculous how attractively composed he looks and it’s even more ridiculous how aroused it makes you feel when you should be trying to piece together the fragments of your dignity. and clothes.

you finally slide off the bed, one cautious foot after another. the floor is cool under your toes. the comforter trails like a cape. you spot an open door on the far side– a bathroom, tiled and neat– and decide that’s your escape hatch.

you glance at him again. he’s still gaming. didn’t even take a glance in your direction.

so you tiptoe across the room, muttering internally: god, why is he so calm about this? do girls just randomly wake up half-naked in his room all the time? is this like… a daily thing for him?

you pause at the bathroom door, one hand on the frame. actually... yeah he’s definitely that type. he looks like it. he’s hot, quiet, and obviously emotionally unavailable– fuck and kiss (or maybe not) goodbye behavior. you sigh.

inside, the bathroom is absurdly clean. black tile. toothbrush aligned at a perfect right angle. towel folded like a fucking origami? the faint smell of mint and fabric softener. and there, draped over the edge of the counter is your soft pink lacy victoria secret bra.

your entire soul collapses inward.

“oh fuck me,” you whisper to yourself, face burning. “at least it’s cute one...”

you dress as fast as you can, every movement a symphony of mortification. yesterday’s top, slightly wrinkled but serviceable. skirt, still intact. you drag your fingers through your hair and breathe into your palms before stepping back out.

jungkook’s still at it. the soft click of the mouse, the faint rumble of his voice through the headset.

“left side. no, the other left. yeah. tae, heal up.”

he’s impossibly focused– eyes locked on the screen, lips pressed together in concentration. he looks so… annoyingly attractive doing it. for a split second you picture yourself bent over his gaming desk while he’s thrusting into you from behind so hard, so fast, so focused. the thought only is enough to make your pussy purr in ecstasy– wait fuck, stop thirsting over the guy. damn.

you quickly grab your purse from the nightstand. the screen of your phone lights up with an explosion of missed calls mainly from hanni.

hanni (8 missed calls)

hanni (10 messages)

the preview bubbles scream at you:

HO WHERE TF U AT

U DEAD OR WHAT

DID U SLEEP W HIM OMG??

ANSWER ME U CUNT

you wince, typing a rushed “alive. not dead. will explain later.” and drop the phone back in your bag.

okay. deep breath. time to go.

except… should you just leave without saying anything? isn’t that rude?

he did technically save you from a possibly very embarrassing situation with your ex. and he did pay for your dinner. and well, allegedly not take advantage of your drunken half naked self. though at this point you wouldn’t have minded... okay. stop.

so you hover awkwardly behind him, watching the blur of motion on his screen. his character moves like a ghost, fluid and precise. he flicks his mouse, dodging attacks, dealing criticals like it’s second nature. you can’t help it but a tiny gasp escapes you.

he hears it.

jungkook glances over his shoulder, briefly, one eyebrow twitching in acknowledgment. then he finishes the fight, fast, and as the victory screen lights up, he slides off his headset.

his gaze meets yours, unreadable as always.

you seize the moment. “um,” you start, clutching your purse like it might shield you from embarrassment, “i just… wanted to say thanks? for, like, you know, taking care of me when i was drunk. and, you know, not taking advantage of my extremely vulnerable state.”

the words tumble out faster than intended. you immediately regret every syllable.

jungkook blinks. and you swear you catch the faintest flicker of amusement in his eyes, and something else? before it disappears. he just mutters, “no problem.” tone flat as ever.

“right,” you say, laughing awkwardly. “cool. um, yeah. i think i’ll just go? out. to my home. to, uh, you know.”

he stands then, smooth and effortless, and says, “i’ll walk you to the door.”

you blink, caught off guard. and they say chivalry is dead?

you follow him out, purse dangling from your hand. his apartment stretches wider than you expected: dark wood floors, minimal furniture, every surface spotless. black and gray dominate everything. even the lighting feels curated, soft and deliberate, like he lives inside a film still.

“wow,” you mumble as you trail him. “you’re really committed to the moody minimalist vibes, huh? very… you.”

he doesn’t reply. just glances back once, an unreadable look flickering in his eyes before turning forward again.

he stops suddenly. you’re too close behind.

your forehead collides with his back– solid muscle, unfairly so.

“ouch– what the–”

he turns slightly, deadpan. “we’re here.”

you step back, rubbing your forehead. the entryway gleams with neatly aligned shoes and your kitten heels standing out brightly sitting by the mat like rescued hostages.

“oh,” you say lamely. “right.”

you crouch to put them on, wincing at the straps. when you stand, jungkook’s still watching you– arms crossed, posture lazy but gaze sharp.

you try to ignore the way your heartbeat spikes under the scrutiny. “so,” you mumble, forcing a smile, “thanks again. for, uh, everything.”

he nods once. “hm.”

“right,” you say again, because apparently your vocabulary’s broken. “i’ll, uh… see you later. on the game, maybe?”

that earns the smallest twitch at the corner of his mouth. not quite a smile– more like a microexpression that hints at one. “maybe,” he says.

and that’s enough to make your stomach flutter like a traitor.

you skip past his gate, the morning air crisp against your face. behind you, his door shuts with a soft click. oh damn okay.

you groan, covering your face with your purse. “oh my,” you mutter, “i’m definitely moving to another country after this.”

you shake your head, half-laughing, half-dying inside.

“this was unbelievable,” you whisper, heels clicking on the pavement.

“hanni will lose her shit when i tell her this.”

☆

it’s around noon of the next day when you finally drag your half-alive body into hanni’s apartment– hair in loose pigtails, oversized pink hoodie swallowing your frame, short white skirt underneath, sunglasses still on indoors like you just survived a hurricane of emotions. which, honestly, you did.

hanni takes one look at you from the couch, where she’s painting her nails neon green, and dramatically gasps.

“holy shit babe, you look like you went through three emotional arcs and a breakup montage.”

you collapse face-first beside her, groaning.

“i literally did. actually– make that four arcs. i think i hit rock bottom, met satan, and he offered me therapy.”

hanni drops the nail polish brush midair. “that’s when you stop babe. start from the top. tell me everything.”

she sits cross-legged like she’s hosting a true crime podcast. “i’m all ears.”

you push your hair out of your face. “anyway. so. festival day right? i may or may have not tripped in freaking public. like full slapstick faceplant moment.”

hanni is already wheezing. “oh my god babe. not you literally doing a disney-princess-meets-sidewalk scene.”

“girl i wish it was disney. it was more like looney tunes i swear. my dignity literally flatlined.”

you sigh dramatically. “but then this gorgeous guy shows up. like,‘he shouldn’t legally be allowed to exist’ typa gorgeous.”

her eyes widen. “oh my goodness, please tell me he didn’t laugh.”

“he didn’t even blink. he just looked down at me, stoic and sculpted and was like, ‘you okay?’ like he didn’t just witness my public demise.”

“stoic and sculpted…” she repeats slowly. “are you sure you’re not just describing your type again?”

you grab a throw pillow and fling it at her face. “shut up. no. okay– maybe? but that’s not the point.”

“and the point is?”

you pause, grin weakly, and confess, “it was him.”

she blinks. “him who?”

“jungkook.” the name falls out like a scandal.

her jaw drops. “no way girl. wait. the jungkook? like the gamer? ‘mr. mysterious-aimbot-no-emotion-mcbrood’ you been telling me about ?!”

you nod solemnly. “in the flesh. big, real, and unfairly hot. like someone fucking handcrafted him with bad decisions and protein powder.”

hanni’s already climbing onto her knees like she’s about to perform an exorcism. “girl, that’s not coincidence, that’s divine fate play!”

you wave your arms. “i fucking know right! and guess who else was there.”

her smile instantly dies. “don’t. don’t say it.”

“mingyu.”

she groans. “ew.”

“that’s not even the best part. listen, he was with his new girlfriend.”

hanni claps a hand to her chest, eyes wide in mock horror and disbelief. “fucking say what again?!”

“yep. and her name is jessica. jessica with a j.”

hanni cackles instantly, leaning back like she’s about to take notes.

“of course it’s a j. all trouble starts with a j. jacob, jason, jessica… red-flag letters, every single one. and mingyu clearly fucks with it. babe, i would’ve launched a corndog at them.”

“same! but i panicked. and then i panicked harder because–” you rub your face, mumbling, “–i may have kinda told mingyu that jungkook was my boyfriend.”

hanni blinks. then completely loses it, laughing so hard she almost spills the nail polish.

“you WHAT?! oh my god that’s fucking hilarious babe!”

you whine into your hands. “stoppp i didn’t mean to! he was smirking, and jessica was breathing too loud for my liking, and my mouth just– panicked!”

hanni’s gasping between laughs. “you just dropped the ‘he’s my boyfriend’ like it was nothing? iconic.”

“i panicked! but get this– he actually went along with it.”

that shuts her up for half a second. then she leans in, eyes sparkling. “wait. willingly? like, no hesitation?”

you nod, wide-eyed. “yup. deadpan, cool, ‘yeah i’m the boyfriend.’ like it was the most casual thing ever.”

hanni clutches her chest. “girl. he’s definitely into you.”

you push her shoulder, blushing. “he is not! he’s just uh polite in a psychopathic way?”

“oh please. no man agrees to fake-date a random hot girl unless he’s at least 60% down bad. that’s statistics.”

“you literally made that up.”

“and yet it feels true.” she smirks. “admit it tho. you like him.”

“i do not.”

“you sooo do.”

you both lock eyes until you break first, groaning into the couch. “okay maybe a little, i hate that you’re always right.”

“i know babe. i’m basically your emotional support fairy.”

you throw a pillow at her again. “anyway. then i got drunk.”

she perks up immediately. “oh, here we go. how drunk?”

“like, karaoke-with-strangers drunk.”

“oh god.”

“i told him i’d repay him with anything he wanted.”

she gasps. “anything? babe, you didn’t—”

“not like that! i meant like– favors, chores, whatever! but it sounded awful.”

hanni’s eyes are already glinting. “uh-huh. and what did he ask for?”

“traditional food.”

“that’s… adorable? and suspicious as fuck.”

“i know! but then i drank more, cried about mingyu, and maybe gave him a strip show because i was feeling hot.”

she snorts so hard she almost chokes. “you WHAT—”

“i didn’t mean to! i was dead drunk, and you know how sweaty i get. he just gave me his shirt and probably went back to gaming like nothing happened! like no sneaky shit, no weirdness– just, headset back on. like i wasn’t standing half naked! at least that’s what he told me”

hanni’s wiping tears from her eyes now, cackling. “so you basically trauma-dumped, cried, stripped, and he played what, cod?”

“yes!” you groan. “i don’t understand him!”

“oh my god, that man’s got monk-level self-control.” she fans herself dramatically. “girl, if i was you, i’d totally fuck him raw, like on spot.”

you cover your face again. “this is mortifying.”

she nudges you with her foot. “it’s cinematic. you literally faked-dated a hot gamer, crashed emotionally, and woke up in his shirt. you’re living every girl’s dream.”

you peek through your fingers. “don’t say that like it’s a good thing.”

“oh, it is a great thing babe. and let me tell you, he totally likes you.”

you shake your head violently. “he does not. he’s emotionally allergic to feelings.”

“maybe that’s why he’s drawn to you. you’re like his emotional exposure therapy.”

you groan, falling back dramatically. “i hate you.”

“you love me babe. now tell me, did you at least get his number?”

you pause, squinting. “technically no, but we’re still friends on the game.”

she gasps. “so you’re gaming with him still?”

“yeah… last night too. he’s still cold and weird, but– ”

hanni’s grin is evil. “but you like it.”

you point a finger. “shut the fuck up.”

she shrugs, smug. “face it. you found your type: emotionally unavailable, ridiculously hot, socially malfunctioning.”

you stare at her, defeated. “god, you’re so right.”

she grins, picking her nail polish back up. “of course i am. now, babe… if this were an hbo show, you’d totally fuck in episode four.”

you groan into the couch again. “we are not manifesting that.”

“oh, we are so manifesting that.”

☆

it’s been two weeks since that night. the one that ended with you half-asleep on jungkook’s back, drooling against his shoulder and questioning your entire existence.

and somehow, despite the humiliation, things feel lighter. and quieter somehow.

you don’t know if it’s the distraction or the dopamine, but every night at 9:02 pm, you find yourself opening your laptop, heartbeat picking up when the tiny green dot next to “jungkook97” blinks on.

he’s always there before you. always.

sometimes he doesn’t even greet you. he just sends a short text in the in-game chat:

jungkook97: you ready?

and even though it’s just two words, you grin like an idiot every single time.

it’s a friday night when you first hear the others.

“yo, kook,” a bright, teasing voice cuts through your headphones mid-loading screen. “seems like you finally got yourself a duo? who’s the newbie, man– they better not suck as bad as taehyung.”

“excuse me?” another voice fires back, deep and lazy, smooth like velvet dipped in mischief. “i carried your sorry ass last match.”

you blink, startled. “uhm. hi?”

there’s a quick pause, then laughter, loud and genuine.

“ohhh, she’s polite,” the first voice says. “hi to you too sweetheart, you can call me jimin. the one with skills and charisma.”

you snort. “hi, jimin. i’ll have you know i’m not so polite and incredibly talented at dying first.”

“ah, a specialist,” the deep voice, taehyung’s, hums. “you can sit with me then. i’m the emotional support sniper.”

“oh, so you don’t actually kill anyone either?” you shoot back without missing a beat.

there’s a half-beat of surprised silence before jimin whistles low. “ohhh, she’s feisty. bro she clocked your ass, i like her.”

from your headset, you hear jungkook’s voice, calm and flat, cutting through their laughter. “focus.”

you smirk. “there he goes again.”

jimin bursts into laughter again. “oh, that tracks for him. bro’s been socially constipated since 2013.”

“shut up,” jungkook mutters, but you swear there’s a faint smile in his tone.

you grin into your mic. “don’t worry, jimin. he only speaks in full sentences when he’s threatening my kill count.”

“sounds romantic,” taehyung says with mock sincerity. “enemies to lovers speedrun, anyone?”

“absolutely not,” jungkook replies, way too fast.

“oh my god,” jimin says. “he’s defensive guys, it’s happening.”

you laugh so hard your character gets shot in-game. “okay but like– someone help me???”

jungkook sighs. “you walked into a grenade.”

“i walked into love and friendship, actually,” you shoot back, deadpan.

“yeah, that’s what got you killed,” he says flatly, and jimin and tae lose it again.

it becomes a rhythm after that.

every night, same voices. same banter. same spark.

jimin narrates everything like he’s a twitch streamer.

taehyung’s mic always picks up music. one time it’s jazz, another it’s lo-fi beats to die heroically to.

and jungkook… still calm, still collected, but there are cracks now. small ones, but you noticed them.

like the way he mutters “nice shot” when you finally take someone down, low enough that you almost miss it.

or when he accidentally chuckles, actually chuckles, when you miss a jump and yell “BRO, GRAVITY IS RIGGED!”

you don’t tell him, but that sound might’ve become your new favorite notification.

the fourth night, another voice joins.

smooth and feminine. sugary in a way that feels too intentional.

“jungkook,” she says, his name soft like she’s practiced saying it in front of a mirror. “queue duos later?”

you tense before you even realize it.

he answers simply: “busy.”

“oh?” she hums. “with… her again?”

the silence is sharp enough to slice pixels.

you clear your throat, trying to be polite. “um hi. you must be aeri, right? i’ve heard about you.”

a small, airy laugh filters through your headset. “oh. you’re that girl.”

you blink. “that… girl?”

“the one he’s been playing with lately.”

her tone is coated in that sweet-but-acidic glaze only girls recognize. the one that says mine, back off in invisible lipstick.

“oh yeah,” you say brightly. “that’s me, i guess. nice to meet you too?”

jimin immediately chokes on laughter. “bro, this shit’s gold. gotta stream this.”

taehyung adds between snickers, “popcorn’s in the microwave.”

jungkook, exasperated, mutters, “just start the match.”

and you swear you can hear aeri’s sigh.

and hours melt like that.

between explosions and quiet moments of shared focus.

sometimes you forget there’s a world outside the glowing blue light of your screen.

nights blur together in a rhythm that feels almost dreamy.

you’re always cross-legged in bed, hoodie up, blue light painting shadows across your face as you mutter curses at your screen.

jungkook’s calm voice cutting through the chaos, “don’t push. flank left.”

jimin’s laughter always follows a beat later, bright and contagious. “damn, girl, you got guts! no aim, but guts!”

then there’s aeri. her tone sugarcoated when she speaks to jungkook, sharp-edged when it’s directed at you, like her sweetness runs on a timer. through it all, jungkook stays steady, sometimes too steady, though you notice he still texts you mid-match even when his mic’s on.

jungkook97: behind u

jungkook97: heal

jungkook97: u did great

and that last one sticks with you longer than it should, replaying in your head long after the match ends, long after the night fades into quiet.

by the end of the week, the group feels like a strange digital family.

jimin calls you “rookie” affectionately.

taehyung teases you constantly but sends you tips when you’re offline.

aeri tolerates you, barely, though she’s always first to queue when jungkook’s online.

and jungkook…

he’s still himself. stoic and quiet.

but you swear, sometimes, when you’re laughing too hard or getting too flustered. you hear that low, barely-there chuckle again.

and when you do, your chest warms in ways you pretend not to notice.

it’s late one night, almost 2 a.m.

jimin’s gone, taehyung’s yawning into his mic, and aeri’s logged off after saying a way-too-sweet “goodnight, jungkook.”

it’s just you and him now.

you stretch, voice groggy. “okay, one last round. i promise. i’m getting better, right?”

there’s a pause. then, he says quietly:

“you died ten times less tonight.”

“that’s progress!” you grin.

he hums in response. then adds, “hm, your timing’s better too.”

you glance at your screen. his avatar’s standing next to yours, waiting.

your heart beats a little faster.

“…thanks, coach.”

he doesn’t answer, but you think you catch a smile in his tone when he says, “let’s go again.”

and somehow, that’s your new normal.

a week ago, you were crying over mingyu.

now you’re laughing at midnight with two chaos gremlins and one unreadable gamer boy who might– just might– be starting to thaw.

you’re not sure what this is yet.

but all you know is that you’re finally laughing again.

and every time that green dot lights up beside his name, you can’t help but smile.

☆

it’s late. one of those hazy weeknights where the line between today and tomorrow feels blurry, where your only sense of time comes from the soft hum of your monitor and the caffeine buzzing faintly in your bloodstream. you’re curled up in your chair, lace tank top, hair pulled into a messy bun that’s been collapsing for hours. the glow of edensaga online lights your room like a makeshift universe. jungkook’s voice, steady and precise, filters through your headset like background gravity.

“rotate left,” he says, tone flat, fingers tapping faintly in the background.

“alright,” you say, right before accidentally running straight into a trap.

an explosion flashes across your screen. you shriek.

“holy– i swear that wasn’t my fault!”

jimin’s laugh bursts through the comms, loud and chaotic. “oh, it so was! girl, you got the reaction time of a boomer!”

you roll your eyes even as you smile. “shut up, you literally died first last round!”

“that was strategy,” jimin shoots back instantly. “i was testing their aggression.”

taehyung’s low drawl cuts in, lazy and amused. “yeah, and it turns out their aggression is very, very effective.”

you snort. “love how everyone here just lies with confidence.”

“not everyone,” jungkook mutters absently, reloading in perfect rhythm. his voice is quiet but always there, even when he isn’t saying much, it feels like he’s anchoring the whole game, one cool syllable at a time.

the round ends in victory. mostly because jungkook decides it should. he wipes the other team in seconds, methodical and terrifyingly good.

you sigh dramatically. “sometimes i think you’re not a real person. just a highly advanced gaming bot who occasionally sighs in judgment.”

jimin cackles. “oh, he is a bot. but like… a sexy one. you know, like the ones they’d ban from those ai dating sims for being too efficient.”

you choke on laughter. “jimin—”

“don’t feed him more material,” taehyung cuts in smoothly, and you can hear his grin. “he’ll write a novel about it.”

jimin gasps. “don’t threaten me with a good time!”

you’re still laughing when jimin suddenly goes, “oh! speaking of good times– have y’all heard about the edensaga online tournament?”

there’s a beat of silence, just the faint clacking of keys and static, before taehyung hums. “the national one? yeah, i saw the promo on the launcher. prize pool’s insane this year.”

you tilt your head, curious. “tournament?”

jimin’s tone shifts instantly. more animated and excited, his energy rising through the mic. “yeah, babe! it’s huge. online prelims start next month, then the top teams go to the live finals. cash prizes, sponsorships, free gear, maybe even a trophy that looks like it belongs in a marvel movie.”

taehyung says lazily, “he just wants merch.”

“shut up, you love merch.”

you lean back, intrigued. you ask absentmindedly, “so people actually compete professionally in this?”

“people like him,” jimin says, and you can hear the smirk in his voice. “don’t let his boring tone fool you. mr. ‘flank left’ over here’s a legend.”

your eyes flick to jungkook’s avatar, standing still like always, as if none of this concerns him. “wait. you’re like serious?”

taehyung hums in agreement. “he’s not kidding. not even a bit. jungkook’s got more trophies than we’ve got brain cells combined. dude used to sweep tournaments before he got bored of fame.”

you gape. “you? i mean i knew you were insanely good, but this? you’ve been letting me run into walls this whole time while you’re basically an esports god?”

jungkook doesn’t even blink– well, metaphorically. “you run into walls because you don’t listen.”

you gasp dramatically. “you wound me, coach.”

jimin breaks into laughter again, wheezing. “oh my god, you two sound like a married couple in a tax audit.”

you groan. “don’t ever say that again.”

“too late, it’s burned into my memory.”

“anyway,” jimin continues, “we should totally enter. as a squad.”

you blink. “we? like… me included?”

“obviously!” jimin exclaims. “team synergy! we’ve got cold-and-cool jungkook, charme incarnated me, art major philosopher tae, and our adorable rookie princess–you!”

you make a noise somewhere between a snort and a laugh. “did you just call me a rookie princess?”

“yes, and i stand by it,” jimin says proudly.

taehyung adds, voice smooth as velvet, “he’s not wrong. you die dramatically. it’s got flair.”

“thank you? i think?”

a soft sound, barely there, comes through jungkook’s mic. a hum. not quite laughter, but close enough that it makes your chest tighten for a weird second.

“come on,” jimin presses, “we could actually win this thing. especially with jungkook.”

“he’s not wrong,” taehyung agrees. “if we take it seriously, we could make the finals easy. we should meet up, though. work on strategy and all that.”

“meet up?” you repeat.

“yeah,” jimin says. “in person, genius. we can go to that café by campus– you know, the one with those overpriced matcha lattes and neon lights that make everyone look ten times hotter.”

taehyung chuckles. “you just want instagram lighting.”

“exactly.”

you can’t help but laugh. “so this is your secret gamer strategy meeting? mood lighting and matcha latte?”

jimin hums. “and meeting you in person, of course. gotta confirm you’re not a forty-year-old catfish.”

“oh wow,” you deadpan. “thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“hey, i said you were a princess. don’t ruin the fantasy.”

you grin, shaking your head. “if this is your version of flattery, i can see why you’re single.”

“excuse you!” jimin gasps. “people would kill to date me!”

“yeah,” taehyung says dryly. “mostly people you’ve third-partied in-game.”

you burst out laughing as jimin gasps in mock betrayal.

even jungkook hums again, barely audible, but it’s there. you catch it like it’s proof of something small but important.

“fine,” jimin declares. “it’s a date then. café on friday, six p.m. don’t flake, rookie.”

you smirk. “wouldn’t dream of it.”

“good,” he says. “because the second i walk in, i’m yelling ‘rookie princess has arrived’ just to see jungkook’s face.”

you grin, already picturing it. “you do that, and i’m uninstalling this game.”

taehyung laughs. “this is going to be fun.”

and as the next match loads, you realize he’s right.

for the first time in a while, this doesn’t just feel like an escape.

it feels like life again. messy, loud, ridiculous, and kind of wonderful.

and somewhere between the laughter, the teasing, and jungkook’s quiet little hums that keep finding their way into your nights…

you can’t tell if it’s just a game anymore.

“Still, no washing dishes!” you say, going over to turn the water off with a stern look. “You’re still a guest in our home, Jungkook. I ordered pizza thinking you and Dash would be here.”

Jungkook recalls the first time he met you many years ago. It was move-in day and you’ve made it your mission to clean the bedroom and shared bathroom from top to bottom until it was sparkling. 

What Jungkook had immediately noticed - after the newly decorated bedroom with a large television, a mini fridge in the corner already full of snacks that you encouraged him to take - was how young you were. At first glance, he thought you were Dash’s older sister until you kissed his forehead, an action he groaned about.

“She was a teen mom.” Dash explained without Jungkook having to ask. He did that a lot throughout his life, even now. “Apparently she wants me to have what she didn’t.”

You were genuinely kind and always managed to include Jungkook in whatever. At times, even, Jungkook would grow annoyed with how Dash always appeared to blow you off to do whatever else and yet, you wouldn’t be angered or upset. Maybe it was because Dash was your only child that you grew up alongside.

Jungkook dries his hands with a few paper towels as you wipe the counters of any spilled water. He takes in your attire. It’s evening, but you’re already dressed for bed, a silk nightgown that stops at your thighs with a matching silk robe tied lazily around your figure. He knows you aren’t dressed to sleep - you stay up during the night and binge watch tv or read.

“Are you taking any shifts at the studio this week?” you ask to make conversation. “I know Dash said you and him switched shifts. That boy…” you let out a sigh. “...don’t let him play you, Jungkook!”

“I’m not.” Jungkook cracks a grin. “I can use the extra hours.” A lie.

“Aren’t you already interning, as well? When do you sleep?”

Your concerned mother act was activated now and Jungkook bites the inside of his cheek. He sniffles a bit, turning his eyes away. 

“Well, it’s just you and me until Dash decides to come home.” you state. “The pizza should be here in around half an hour. Do you have anything planned for tonight?”

Jungkook’s eyes cut to you. You’re taken back a bit by the sudden stare that your smile falters for a mere moment. Slowly, you raise an eyebrow at Jungkook.

“Jung-”

“Do you have anything planned?” Jungkook questions. His arms are crossed over his chest and he’s leaning only slightly against the counter. “With…anyone?”

You swallow underneath his hard gaze. The tone changes entirely and you’re far too appalled to answer his question.

“I don’t…I-I-” you shake your head a bit, flustered. “What do you mean?”

Jungkook tilts his head. He gives you another once over before meeting your eyes once more.  “Can I show you something?”

You blink a few times before nodding your head.

Jungkook goes through his pants pockets and takes out his phone. It takes him a minute to find what he does, but when he flashes the screen towards you, your face goes pale. Your heart thumps in your chest and you swear your blood is growing warmer and warmer with embarrassment.

It’s you, of course, and you know exactly what it is.

‘Hot Milf’s Near You’ it says, a picture of your naked body on display. It’s your own account and with the amount of detail that’s displayed, you already know he’s gone through it entirely.

Taking a deep breath, you close your eyes. You didn’t want this to ever come to light. The site was legit, but not well known enough for anyone you know to find it. There’s countless other sites that you avoided due to their popularity.

“Jungkook-”

“Is this a casual hookup site?” Jungkook interrupts. 

Jungkook had never heard of the site until a few weeks back. He had been watching porn when the usually pop-up site came up. He’s never bothered to click the “hot milfs in your area that wants to fuck you” before but this time he was curious to see if it was even real. He wasn’t expecting to go down a rabbit hole of profiles - you being one of them.

“Yes.” your teeth grits. This conversation you truly didn’t want to have with Jungkook. 

“You hookup with…younger guys?” Jungkook locks his phone and places it on the counter. 

Your heart races and your eyes widen. “I-I..they’re not all young!”  you stammer. You didn’t need Jungkook thinking you were some cougar who wanted younger guys. “I just-”

Jungkook knows they aren't all young - he's done his thorough research as soon as he found your profile.

“Your profile says you want someone who could satisfy you.”

Jungkook wasn’t going to make this easy on you, yet you’re unsure why you haven’t walked away yet. This wasn’t his business. You were a grown woman who wasn’t doing anything wrong and-

“I want to be the one to satisfy you.”

Oh.

You’re entirely still, unblinking. Your breathing even hitches and you’re truly astonished. The only reason you’re brought back down to reality was when Jungkook steps closer to you, making an entirely bold move that jolts you back to life.

“I do like you as my friend's mother.” 

Jungkook’s hand presses itself right between your legs, the night-gown giving him perfect access to your clothed pussy. You gasp at the boldness he displays. This was the same shy and soft spoken boy you met at the age of 18. Only, he wasn’t 18 anymore and Dash and him were nearly out of college. He was a man now in his 20’s and fully aware of what he wanted. 

“And I do respect you as such but…”

Jungkook licks his lips, his fingers twirling around your clothed clit.

“...I can tell you want to keep this profile a secret. You don’t want Dash to know you enjoy getting fucked by young guys, right?” Jungkook’s finger picks up the pace and your teeth sink down on your bottom lip. Why haven’t you pushed him away yet?

“I don’t think he’d be happy to find out that his mother’s a whore.” Jungkook cups your pussy entirely, licking his lips as his dark eyes look towards you. It’s as if a switch flipped and he was someone else. A darker person. His eyes aren’t the doe ones you adored, but appeared of that of a siren. “I can keep that secret for you…for a price, of course.”

Jungkook was blackmailing you.

Your son’s friend was blackmailing you - the same kind hearted friend you encourage your son to be like.

Why did the action make your pussy throb with such need you never knew you had for him?

“Let’s see…”

Jungkook’s hand digs into your panties. His fingers slide between your holds and twirls along your clit. A surprised yelp escapes your lips as his fingers immediately work. He isn’t being mindful in the slightest, digits aggressively attacking the sensitive bud.

Your mouth falls open in surprise, but you’re unable to contain the moan. Your pussy is leaking in his palms and you’re standing like an idiot and allowing him to.

“Let’s see how tight you are.”

Jungkook’s free hand grasps your ass to keep you in place while his occupied fingers begin to invade your walls. Your hands grasp Jungkook’s shirt for support as his fingers pump into you possessively. The crude act has you squealing with hot embarrassment at something so forbidden. Your son could return any minute now and yet…

“You’re pussy’s so wet, mommy.”

If being called mommy bothered you, you didn’t show it. If anything, your pussy immediately goes to clench around Jungkook’s fingers. It’s a sign that he knows what he’s doing, you’re enjoying more than you want to admit.

“You like being called mommy, don’t you?” Jungkook hums, drilling his fingers even harder into  you. “You’re drenched right now, mommy.”

“Jung…Kook,” you stammer, clenching his shirt even tighter. What in the world were you allowing him to do? This was wrong in many ways and-

Jungkook removes his fingers from your pussy and brings them to his lips. He sucks onto them, dark lustful eyes on you. 

“Jungkook…we…I don’t think…”

“I’m not taking no for an answer.” Jungkook murmurs. “Besides, you don’t really want me to stop, mommy. You’re not fighting me at all.”

Jungkook goes towards your breast next. His hands are quick in snatching the gown down to reveal erect nipples. He groans at the sight of them, mouth watering. He dives right to them, wrapping his mouth around one nipple with his hand twists the other. “I’ve wanted to suck on them for so long, mommy.” As long as he can remember, he thinks, maybe even back when he first witnessed you naked and cumming against your vibrator.

You don’t know that he watched you, though - and he won’t tell you.

“Y-Yeah?”

You mentally curse yourself for entertaining this, but Jungkook wasn’t making it easy. He was an attractive man who quite literally wasn’t going to take no for an answer - and you had yet to push him away from you. 

But this was sick - right? Jungkook was your son's best friend and roommate. You’ve known him since he was fresh out of highschool and into college. Hell, you even washed his clothes a few times alongside Dash’s but yet…

A sick satisfaction goes through you as Jungkook holds you close and suckles onto your breast, one that you were going to regret feeling once this was all over.

A hand placed behind Jungkook's head, fingers tangling in his dark tresses. Jungkook looks up at you, for a moment those familiar doe-like eyes make their appearance.

“You can suck on them now, Kookie.” you say in a soft voice that has Jungkook sucking even harder, his other hand squeezing your free breast. “I-I won’t stop you.”

This was wrong. You shouldn’t be entertaining this - obviously Jungkook was a man with his own issues but yet, here you were. With your own issues that you were allowing it to unfold.

“Thank you, mommy.” Jungkook says as he dives to the other breast and captures your nipple. 

You ponder if you were a perverse person for enjoying this with Jungkook. He made it very clear that he had no true intentions of stopping but there’s that sick side of you that didn’t want him to regardless. 

Your body is pushed against the kitchen island until you’re hoisted up onto it, back against the cold surface. Jungkook's large hands engulfs both of your breasts, coming up from your breast to place a kiss against your lips. You yelp at the action, but can you truly be surprised? 

Jungkook doesn’t dwell on your lips, however. He goes back to your breast, suckling and tugging your perky nipples while his hands continue to rub and squeeze.

Jungkook’s cock is hard and he presses it right against your clothed clit, hips jutting as he continues to suckle onto your nipples.

You cannot help but moan, your hand rubbing Jungkook’s head encouragingly. “You love to suck mommy’s breast, don’t you?”

Jungkook’s breathing hitches, his eyes flickering to yours. He nods hastily, suckling even harder. His hips continue to jut, rubbing against your clit so heavenly that you can feel just how soaked you were becoming. 

Jungkook continues to suck harder and harder, his mind wandering to the countless times his mouth would salivate at just the thought of doing this. Especially after finding your profile with dozens of naked pictures of yourself. He recalls the time he jacked off to your breast alone, cumming all over himself at the thought of suckling on them like he was doing now.

“Mommy,” Jungkook lets your nipple out with a pop, a string of saliva dripping from his lips. “can I fuck your tits?”

Your eyes widened, your clit growing even wetter.

“Not here.” you say to Jungkook. You were going to regret this, surely, when you came back to your senses. 

Leading Jungkook to your bedroom was all too surreal. But dropping yourself to your bed while the man removes his pants is far too real. His cock springs out, pretty, veiny and pink. It’s dripping with pre-cum already and you almost coo at how cute he looks.

You lay on the edge of your bed, breast pressed together. “Don’t be shy now, Kookie.”

Jungkook gasps low, stepping forward so that he can place his cock against your breast. But before he can, your hand wraps around it and you bring him into your mouth.

Jungkook shudders at how wet and warm your mouth is as you suckle onto his cock. It blows his mind and he finds that he never wants this to end.

You pop Jungkook’s cock from your mouth and lick your lips. “You can fuck mommy’s tits now.” you hum.

“Y-Yes, mommy.” Jungkook’s cheeks are red as he obeys you. He presses his cock right between your breasts and you press them together. 

“Can as hard as you want, okay?” you smile sweetly.

Jungkook complies, immediately rutting his hips. You never would’ve thought that you would find this hot - or maybe it was Jungkook. Younger men had more stamina and Jungkook doesn’t seem to be tired anytime soon.

Jungkook’s thumbs twist at your nipples as he fucks your tits, a groan coming from his lips. “You’re so hot, mommy. I wanted you for so long.”

Your eyes watch the way Jungkook’s cock slides between your breasts with such need, your pussy clenching around nothing. Your already crude mind is pondering how good he’d be able to fuck you with such stamina and strength that you cannot help but squeal.

“You like me fucking your tits, mommy?” Jungkook asks, chuckling a bit. “Or are you thinking about me fucking something else?”

Jungkook was co complex. One instant he could be so vulnerable and soft eyed and then there’s the switch. His voice would deepen, his eyes darken and he would speak like he was now.

Jungkook’s right hand lifts from your nipples to connect with your neck. He tightens it, continuing to pump his wet cock between your breasts. 

“I think you like the way I’m fucking your tits, mommy. You’re so slutty.” Jungkook sing-song such dirty words. “From now on, you don’t need to find anyone else to fuck you, okay? I’m all you need, mommy.”

Jungkook doesn’t want to think about you going elsewhere - to someone his age. They didn’t deserve to fuck you. They didn’t put in the work like he had  with making a great impression and getting you to like him.

“All for you, Kookie.” you nod your head the best way you could with his hand around your neck. “Are you going to cum for mommy?”

Jungkook shudders and rapidly nods his head. His hand tightens around your neck, your moans increasing as does his. He juts his cock between your breast back and forth and back and forth and-

“Fuck, mommy, I’m gonna cum all over you.” Jungkook’s body shakes, releasing a sputter of swear words.

“Cum for me, baby. Cum all over mommy’s tits like a good boy.”

There was no way you and Jungkook were going back to normal after this - not after he’s called you mommy and you called him a good boy.

Jungkook cums all over your breast, cum going as far as to splatter across your cheeks. 

Jungkook sighs, eyes fluttering with how hard he’s cum. He always cum the hardest when it comes to you, and now it’s because of you and not your pictures.

“I’m going to make you cum next, mommy!”

You don’t have time to process because Jungkook’s already on his knees and bringing you closer to him. Your panties are ripped from your core and Jungkook’s already face to face with it. 

Jungkook enjoys eating you out; genuinely. His tongue licks between your folds generously, moaning and groaning against your cunt without coming up for air. He’s completely insatiable when it comes to you, never wanting to tear himself away.

“Kookie…slow down!” you gasp, hands grasping your breast.

Jungkook ignores you entirely, continuing to suckle onto your clit. You watch him with wide eyes, completely in awe. You aren’t sure you’ve ever had anyone eat you with such necessity like Jungkook was.

Jungkook’s head begins to bob back and forth, his hand reaching up towards your hole. You’re wet enough that he slides in three fingers, pumping them in and out feverishly.

You’re squealing loudly with each pump of Jungkook’s fingers, unsure if you were going to last with both his tongue and fingers. Your eyes squeeze shut, breath catching in your throat. He was truly a man starved, determined to have you cum by any means necessary.

The more Jungkook’s long fingers fuck you, the more your mind becomes fuzzy. 

Jungkook is astonished by how wet you are, juices leaking all over his lips and palm. He ponders just how long it’s been since you’ve been doted on. When was the last time someone ate your pussy like their last meal?

No longer would you have to wait, Jungkook thinks, as he was going to be the only one you’d go to for now. He leans away from your pussy to admire the way you grip his fingers. He drills them deeper and harder, arousal squirting out of you rapidly.

“You’re cumming, aren’t you, mommy?” Jungkook laughs, yet doesn’t stop his pumping. “Your pussy’s making such a mess…I think you are.”

Your hips buckle a bit to move away, but Jungkook’s free hand goes to push you down. With more force, he drills his fingers until he is nearly palms deep into your pussy.  Your walls clench and squeeze and Jungkook does nothing but force his way in deeper and deeper, scraping against your wet walls.

“Kookie, I-I,” you groan, cutting yourself off as you feel yourself let go around him, your thighs shaking with pleasure and overstimulation.

Jungkook marvels at your wet pussy, soaking the sheets and him entirely. He removes his fingers just as you’re cumming, juices pouring out messily.

Your head crashes against the bed, cotton sheets greeting you. You’re attempting to gather your breathing and stop your shaking thighs.

“You must be so tired, mommy.” Jungkook hums above you. “A man hasn’t satisfied you in so long, huh? Even whatever young one you brought home through that profile.”

Jungkook removes his shirt and throws it aside. He had every intention of fucking you until you were begging him to stop - surely that’s what you wanted.

“Kook,” you begin, eyes fluttering open.

Your eyes squint at Jungkook’s naked form between your legs. Has he always had so many tattoos? You recall him and Dash getting one together a few months back but surely his entire arm couldn’t have been that.

“I want you to cum around my cock next, mommy.” Jungkook grasps your legs and forces them apart. 

“Kook! Wait!”

Your hand reaches out to touch his chest and stop him. Jungkook blinks at you, tilting his head almost innocently.

“You need a condom.” you say, body warming with heat because you weren’t going to tell him to not fuck you like you should, but to wear protection.

Jungkook cracks a smile. “No I don’t.” he insists. “You’re only going to be fucking me from now  on anyways.”

Jungkook grazes his tips between your folds teasingly.

“And if I find out you allowed anyone else to fuck you, mommy, I’ll just show everyone how much of a slut you are. Everyone would see those pictures and know you like to get fucked by men your sons age.”

Jungkook speaks with such softness in his voice that it makes his words even more sinister. You’re stuck, unable to respond and Jungkook takes it upon himself to enter you with one, quick movement.

“You’re so tight, mommy. So tight and wet.”

Jungkook’s hip rock, his cock jamming in and out of you at an alarming pace. Your mouth opens to let out a shocked yelp. He forces your legs apart until your knees are to your shoulders, allowing him deeper access to your cunt.

“Kookie, s-slow down,” your eyes flutter as you attempt to speak to Jungkook.

“No, mommy. Isn’t this what you wanted?” Jungkook retorts. “You wanted to be fucked and that’s what I’m going to do. Doesn’t my cock feel good in your pussy?”

Your eyes squeeze shut. Jungkook was someone you haven’t experienced in a long time. He was a naturally athletic person so his stamina was far greater than anyone you’ve dealt with. 

“It feels so good, Kookie.” you respond, deciding that it was easier to give in to the pleasure than to continue to fight against it. 

“Yeah?” Jungkook grunts, leaning down so that he’s hovering about your face. “Am I being good for you, mommy?”

Your walls grow tighter. You nod your head hastily. “So good for me, Kookie.” you moan. “You’re fucking m-mommy so well!”

Jungkook’s breathing increases with your words. This had to be sick from the outside looking in. Surely, Jungkook had something go on in his life that you were exploiting right now for your own sick pleasure.

Jungkook flips you onto your stomach and begins to fuck you doggystyle. Both of his hands are on your shoulders, his hips rutting into you. Your ass clashes against his abdomen in fast, clapping motions that it bounces off the walls of your bedroom.

“Fuck,” you hiss. Your pussy’s squelching loudly now. “you’re fucking mommy so good, Kook.”

Jungkook doesn’t want to cum yet - he doesn’t want it to be over. But he’s far too insatiable that he just cannot get enough of you. He ruts his hips faster and faster until he’s grunting just as  loud as you’re squealing.

“You’re such a slut, mommy. You’re all mine, aren’t you? Mine to fuck whenever I want.”

You don’t respond fast enough for Jungkook’s liking and a palm harshly slams against your ass cheek.

A loud squeal comes deep from your  lips and Jungkook just knows you liked it. His palm continues to slap against your ass as he pounds into you, harder and harder each time that it leaves the skin stinging.

Your back arches, thighs opening wider to take more of Jungkook like the slut he told you that you were. 

“Mommy’s gonna cum, Kookie!” you mewl.

“Oh yeah?” Jungkook chuckles, amused. He yanks you by your hair and forces you back, thighs opening wider. “Play with your clit, mommy. Cum all over my cock like you did my hands.”

It’s so humiliating how you listen to Jungkook’s demands. As his cock rams into your swollen hole, your fingers latch onto your clit and you twirl them on the bud.

Your head rests on his chest, your fingers jamming between your folds harshly. Your sobs became louder, pussy squeezing and stomach churning.

Jungkook wished there was a mirror in front of the two of you so he could watch how crude you were right now. Your pussy is squeezing him so tight that he sinks his teeth onto the skin of your shoulder.

“F-Fuck, Kookie, Mommy’s c-cumming…!”

Warm juices pool down your thighs again and stain the cotton bedsheets. Your eyes flutter, but don’t close. You’re stuttering dumbly, going limp in Jungkook embrace.

Jungkook pushes you away and forces you onto your back once more. He lays onto his side and faces you towards him, bringing his cock back into you after throwing your leg around his waist.

Jungkook isn't making anything easy for you. You were already going through the overstimulation and he goes to suckle onto your nipple hungrily once more. His palm rubs along your ass as his cock rut inside of you.

Jungkook’s eyes roll as his tongue twirls your nipple, sucking harder and harder.

You were going to cum again, your nipples  far too sensitive to not cum even harder than the last time. You place a hand onto Jungkook's cheek, rubbing it slightly.

“Cum for mommy, Kookie.” you coo softly, holding him against your chest. 

“I-In you?” Jungkook says muffled against your breast. “I’m gonna cum in mommy’s pussy.” he repeats, determined to do just that. “Gonna breed you so nice, mommy.” 

Jungkook sloppily pounds into you until he’s cumming the hardest he’s ever had in his life. He shudders at the feeling of painting your walls with his own seed, satisfaction flowing through him.

You’re exhausted, falling against your pillows with a huff. You’re breathing heavily and when the high comes down, you are going to have to speak with Jungkook about this. Whatever the hell this was.

Jungkook, however, doesn’t move. He only connects himself back to your breast and continues to suckle gently onto your breast, his hand softly squeezing the other way. You are far too exhausted (and comfortably content) to push him away like you should.

trivia-yandere: ok but like i feel like this needs a part 2

“Still, no washing dishes!” you say, going over to turn the water off with a stern look. “You’re still a guest in our home, Jungkook. I ordered pizza thinking you and Dash would be here.”

Jungkook recalls the first time he met you many years ago. It was move-in day and you’ve made it your mission to clean the bedroom and shared bathroom from top to bottom until it was sparkling. 

What Jungkook had immediately noticed - after the newly decorated bedroom with a large television, a mini fridge in the corner already full of snacks that you encouraged him to take - was how young you were. At first glance, he thought you were Dash’s older sister until you kissed his forehead, an action he groaned about.

“She was a teen mom.” Dash explained without Jungkook having to ask. He did that a lot throughout his life, even now. “Apparently she wants me to have what she didn’t.”

You were genuinely kind and always managed to include Jungkook in whatever. At times, even, Jungkook would grow annoyed with how Dash always appeared to blow you off to do whatever else and yet, you wouldn’t be angered or upset. Maybe it was because Dash was your only child that you grew up alongside.

Jungkook dries his hands with a few paper towels as you wipe the counters of any spilled water. He takes in your attire. It’s evening, but you’re already dressed for bed, a silk nightgown that stops at your thighs with a matching silk robe tied lazily around your figure. He knows you aren’t dressed to sleep - you stay up during the night and binge watch tv or read.

“Are you taking any shifts at the studio this week?” you ask to make conversation. “I know Dash said you and him switched shifts. That boy…” you let out a sigh. “...don’t let him play you, Jungkook!”

“I’m not.” Jungkook cracks a grin. “I can use the extra hours.” A lie.

“Aren’t you already interning, as well? When do you sleep?”

Your concerned mother act was activated now and Jungkook bites the inside of his cheek. He sniffles a bit, turning his eyes away. 

“Well, it’s just you and me until Dash decides to come home.” you state. “The pizza should be here in around half an hour. Do you have anything planned for tonight?”

Jungkook’s eyes cut to you. You’re taken back a bit by the sudden stare that your smile falters for a mere moment. Slowly, you raise an eyebrow at Jungkook.

“Jung-”

“Do you have anything planned?” Jungkook questions. His arms are crossed over his chest and he’s leaning only slightly against the counter. “With…anyone?”

You swallow underneath his hard gaze. The tone changes entirely and you’re far too appalled to answer his question.

“I don’t…I-I-” you shake your head a bit, flustered. “What do you mean?”

Jungkook tilts his head. He gives you another once over before meeting your eyes once more.  “Can I show you something?”

You blink a few times before nodding your head.

Jungkook goes through his pants pockets and takes out his phone. It takes him a minute to find what he does, but when he flashes the screen towards you, your face goes pale. Your heart thumps in your chest and you swear your blood is growing warmer and warmer with embarrassment.

It’s you, of course, and you know exactly what it is.

‘Hot Milf’s Near You’ it says, a picture of your naked body on display. It’s your own account and with the amount of detail that’s displayed, you already know he’s gone through it entirely.

Taking a deep breath, you close your eyes. You didn’t want this to ever come to light. The site was legit, but not well known enough for anyone you know to find it. There’s countless other sites that you avoided due to their popularity.

“Jungkook-”

“Is this a casual hookup site?” Jungkook interrupts. 

Jungkook had never heard of the site until a few weeks back. He had been watching porn when the usually pop-up site came up. He’s never bothered to click the “hot milfs in your area that wants to fuck you” before but this time he was curious to see if it was even real. He wasn’t expecting to go down a rabbit hole of profiles - you being one of them.

“Yes.” your teeth grits. This conversation you truly didn’t want to have with Jungkook. 

“You hookup with…younger guys?” Jungkook locks his phone and places it on the counter. 

Your heart races and your eyes widen. “I-I..they’re not all young!”  you stammer. You didn’t need Jungkook thinking you were some cougar who wanted younger guys. “I just-”

Jungkook knows they aren't all young - he's done his thorough research as soon as he found your profile.

“Your profile says you want someone who could satisfy you.”

Jungkook wasn’t going to make this easy on you, yet you’re unsure why you haven’t walked away yet. This wasn’t his business. You were a grown woman who wasn’t doing anything wrong and-

“I want to be the one to satisfy you.”

Oh.

You’re entirely still, unblinking. Your breathing even hitches and you’re truly astonished. The only reason you’re brought back down to reality was when Jungkook steps closer to you, making an entirely bold move that jolts you back to life.

“I do like you as my friend's mother.” 

Jungkook’s hand presses itself right between your legs, the night-gown giving him perfect access to your clothed pussy. You gasp at the boldness he displays. This was the same shy and soft spoken boy you met at the age of 18. Only, he wasn’t 18 anymore and Dash and him were nearly out of college. He was a man now in his 20’s and fully aware of what he wanted. 

“And I do respect you as such but…”

Jungkook licks his lips, his fingers twirling around your clothed clit.

“...I can tell you want to keep this profile a secret. You don’t want Dash to know you enjoy getting fucked by young guys, right?” Jungkook’s finger picks up the pace and your teeth sink down on your bottom lip. Why haven’t you pushed him away yet?

“I don’t think he’d be happy to find out that his mother’s a whore.” Jungkook cups your pussy entirely, licking his lips as his dark eyes look towards you. It’s as if a switch flipped and he was someone else. A darker person. His eyes aren’t the doe ones you adored, but appeared of that of a siren. “I can keep that secret for you…for a price, of course.”

Jungkook was blackmailing you.

Your son’s friend was blackmailing you - the same kind hearted friend you encourage your son to be like.

Why did the action make your pussy throb with such need you never knew you had for him?

“Let’s see…”

Jungkook’s hand digs into your panties. His fingers slide between your holds and twirls along your clit. A surprised yelp escapes your lips as his fingers immediately work. He isn’t being mindful in the slightest, digits aggressively attacking the sensitive bud.

Your mouth falls open in surprise, but you’re unable to contain the moan. Your pussy is leaking in his palms and you’re standing like an idiot and allowing him to.

“Let’s see how tight you are.”

Jungkook’s free hand grasps your ass to keep you in place while his occupied fingers begin to invade your walls. Your hands grasp Jungkook’s shirt for support as his fingers pump into you possessively. The crude act has you squealing with hot embarrassment at something so forbidden. Your son could return any minute now and yet…

“You’re pussy’s so wet, mommy.”

If being called mommy bothered you, you didn’t show it. If anything, your pussy immediately goes to clench around Jungkook’s fingers. It’s a sign that he knows what he’s doing, you’re enjoying more than you want to admit.

“You like being called mommy, don’t you?” Jungkook hums, drilling his fingers even harder into  you. “You’re drenched right now, mommy.”

“Jung…Kook,” you stammer, clenching his shirt even tighter. What in the world were you allowing him to do? This was wrong in many ways and-

Jungkook removes his fingers from your pussy and brings them to his lips. He sucks onto them, dark lustful eyes on you. 

“Jungkook…we…I don’t think…”

“I’m not taking no for an answer.” Jungkook murmurs. “Besides, you don’t really want me to stop, mommy. You’re not fighting me at all.”

Jungkook goes towards your breast next. His hands are quick in snatching the gown down to reveal erect nipples. He groans at the sight of them, mouth watering. He dives right to them, wrapping his mouth around one nipple with his hand twists the other. “I’ve wanted to suck on them for so long, mommy.” As long as he can remember, he thinks, maybe even back when he first witnessed you naked and cumming against your vibrator.

You don’t know that he watched you, though - and he won’t tell you.

“Y-Yeah?”

You mentally curse yourself for entertaining this, but Jungkook wasn’t making it easy. He was an attractive man who quite literally wasn’t going to take no for an answer - and you had yet to push him away from you. 

But this was sick - right? Jungkook was your son's best friend and roommate. You’ve known him since he was fresh out of highschool and into college. Hell, you even washed his clothes a few times alongside Dash’s but yet…

A sick satisfaction goes through you as Jungkook holds you close and suckles onto your breast, one that you were going to regret feeling once this was all over.

A hand placed behind Jungkook's head, fingers tangling in his dark tresses. Jungkook looks up at you, for a moment those familiar doe-like eyes make their appearance.

“You can suck on them now, Kookie.” you say in a soft voice that has Jungkook sucking even harder, his other hand squeezing your free breast. “I-I won’t stop you.”

This was wrong. You shouldn’t be entertaining this - obviously Jungkook was a man with his own issues but yet, here you were. With your own issues that you were allowing it to unfold.

“Thank you, mommy.” Jungkook says as he dives to the other breast and captures your nipple. 

You ponder if you were a perverse person for enjoying this with Jungkook. He made it very clear that he had no true intentions of stopping but there’s that sick side of you that didn’t want him to regardless. 

Your body is pushed against the kitchen island until you’re hoisted up onto it, back against the cold surface. Jungkook's large hands engulfs both of your breasts, coming up from your breast to place a kiss against your lips. You yelp at the action, but can you truly be surprised? 

Jungkook doesn’t dwell on your lips, however. He goes back to your breast, suckling and tugging your perky nipples while his hands continue to rub and squeeze.

Jungkook’s cock is hard and he presses it right against your clothed clit, hips jutting as he continues to suckle onto your nipples.

You cannot help but moan, your hand rubbing Jungkook’s head encouragingly. “You love to suck mommy’s breast, don’t you?”

Jungkook’s breathing hitches, his eyes flickering to yours. He nods hastily, suckling even harder. His hips continue to jut, rubbing against your clit so heavenly that you can feel just how soaked you were becoming. 

Jungkook continues to suck harder and harder, his mind wandering to the countless times his mouth would salivate at just the thought of doing this. Especially after finding your profile with dozens of naked pictures of yourself. He recalls the time he jacked off to your breast alone, cumming all over himself at the thought of suckling on them like he was doing now.

“Mommy,” Jungkook lets your nipple out with a pop, a string of saliva dripping from his lips. “can I fuck your tits?”

Your eyes widened, your clit growing even wetter.

“Not here.” you say to Jungkook. You were going to regret this, surely, when you came back to your senses. 

Leading Jungkook to your bedroom was all too surreal. But dropping yourself to your bed while the man removes his pants is far too real. His cock springs out, pretty, veiny and pink. It’s dripping with pre-cum already and you almost coo at how cute he looks.

You lay on the edge of your bed, breast pressed together. “Don’t be shy now, Kookie.”

Jungkook gasps low, stepping forward so that he can place his cock against your breast. But before he can, your hand wraps around it and you bring him into your mouth.

Jungkook shudders at how wet and warm your mouth is as you suckle onto his cock. It blows his mind and he finds that he never wants this to end.

You pop Jungkook’s cock from your mouth and lick your lips. “You can fuck mommy’s tits now.” you hum.

“Y-Yes, mommy.” Jungkook’s cheeks are red as he obeys you. He presses his cock right between your breasts and you press them together. 

“Can as hard as you want, okay?” you smile sweetly.

Jungkook complies, immediately rutting his hips. You never would’ve thought that you would find this hot - or maybe it was Jungkook. Younger men had more stamina and Jungkook doesn’t seem to be tired anytime soon.

Jungkook’s thumbs twist at your nipples as he fucks your tits, a groan coming from his lips. “You’re so hot, mommy. I wanted you for so long.”

Your eyes watch the way Jungkook’s cock slides between your breasts with such need, your pussy clenching around nothing. Your already crude mind is pondering how good he’d be able to fuck you with such stamina and strength that you cannot help but squeal.

“You like me fucking your tits, mommy?” Jungkook asks, chuckling a bit. “Or are you thinking about me fucking something else?”

Jungkook was co complex. One instant he could be so vulnerable and soft eyed and then there’s the switch. His voice would deepen, his eyes darken and he would speak like he was now.

Jungkook’s right hand lifts from your nipples to connect with your neck. He tightens it, continuing to pump his wet cock between your breasts. 

“I think you like the way I’m fucking your tits, mommy. You’re so slutty.” Jungkook sing-song such dirty words. “From now on, you don’t need to find anyone else to fuck you, okay? I’m all you need, mommy.”

Jungkook doesn’t want to think about you going elsewhere - to someone his age. They didn’t deserve to fuck you. They didn’t put in the work like he had  with making a great impression and getting you to like him.

“All for you, Kookie.” you nod your head the best way you could with his hand around your neck. “Are you going to cum for mommy?”

Jungkook shudders and rapidly nods his head. His hand tightens around your neck, your moans increasing as does his. He juts his cock between your breast back and forth and back and forth and-

“Fuck, mommy, I’m gonna cum all over you.” Jungkook’s body shakes, releasing a sputter of swear words.

“Cum for me, baby. Cum all over mommy’s tits like a good boy.”

There was no way you and Jungkook were going back to normal after this - not after he’s called you mommy and you called him a good boy.

Jungkook cums all over your breast, cum going as far as to splatter across your cheeks. 

Jungkook sighs, eyes fluttering with how hard he’s cum. He always cum the hardest when it comes to you, and now it’s because of you and not your pictures.

“I’m going to make you cum next, mommy!”

You don’t have time to process because Jungkook’s already on his knees and bringing you closer to him. Your panties are ripped from your core and Jungkook’s already face to face with it. 

Jungkook enjoys eating you out; genuinely. His tongue licks between your folds generously, moaning and groaning against your cunt without coming up for air. He’s completely insatiable when it comes to you, never wanting to tear himself away.

“Kookie…slow down!” you gasp, hands grasping your breast.

Jungkook ignores you entirely, continuing to suckle onto your clit. You watch him with wide eyes, completely in awe. You aren’t sure you’ve ever had anyone eat you with such necessity like Jungkook was.

Jungkook’s head begins to bob back and forth, his hand reaching up towards your hole. You’re wet enough that he slides in three fingers, pumping them in and out feverishly.

You’re squealing loudly with each pump of Jungkook’s fingers, unsure if you were going to last with both his tongue and fingers. Your eyes squeeze shut, breath catching in your throat. He was truly a man starved, determined to have you cum by any means necessary.

The more Jungkook’s long fingers fuck you, the more your mind becomes fuzzy. 

Jungkook is astonished by how wet you are, juices leaking all over his lips and palm. He ponders just how long it’s been since you’ve been doted on. When was the last time someone ate your pussy like their last meal?

No longer would you have to wait, Jungkook thinks, as he was going to be the only one you’d go to for now. He leans away from your pussy to admire the way you grip his fingers. He drills them deeper and harder, arousal squirting out of you rapidly.

“You’re cumming, aren’t you, mommy?” Jungkook laughs, yet doesn’t stop his pumping. “Your pussy’s making such a mess…I think you are.”

Your hips buckle a bit to move away, but Jungkook’s free hand goes to push you down. With more force, he drills his fingers until he is nearly palms deep into your pussy.  Your walls clench and squeeze and Jungkook does nothing but force his way in deeper and deeper, scraping against your wet walls.

“Kookie, I-I,” you groan, cutting yourself off as you feel yourself let go around him, your thighs shaking with pleasure and overstimulation.

Jungkook marvels at your wet pussy, soaking the sheets and him entirely. He removes his fingers just as you’re cumming, juices pouring out messily.

Your head crashes against the bed, cotton sheets greeting you. You’re attempting to gather your breathing and stop your shaking thighs.

“You must be so tired, mommy.” Jungkook hums above you. “A man hasn’t satisfied you in so long, huh? Even whatever young one you brought home through that profile.”

Jungkook removes his shirt and throws it aside. He had every intention of fucking you until you were begging him to stop - surely that’s what you wanted.

“Kook,” you begin, eyes fluttering open.

Your eyes squint at Jungkook’s naked form between your legs. Has he always had so many tattoos? You recall him and Dash getting one together a few months back but surely his entire arm couldn’t have been that.

“I want you to cum around my cock next, mommy.” Jungkook grasps your legs and forces them apart. 

“Kook! Wait!”

Your hand reaches out to touch his chest and stop him. Jungkook blinks at you, tilting his head almost innocently.

“You need a condom.” you say, body warming with heat because you weren’t going to tell him to not fuck you like you should, but to wear protection.

Jungkook cracks a smile. “No I don’t.” he insists. “You’re only going to be fucking me from now  on anyways.”

Jungkook grazes his tips between your folds teasingly.

“And if I find out you allowed anyone else to fuck you, mommy, I’ll just show everyone how much of a slut you are. Everyone would see those pictures and know you like to get fucked by men your sons age.”

Jungkook speaks with such softness in his voice that it makes his words even more sinister. You’re stuck, unable to respond and Jungkook takes it upon himself to enter you with one, quick movement.

“You’re so tight, mommy. So tight and wet.”

Jungkook’s hip rock, his cock jamming in and out of you at an alarming pace. Your mouth opens to let out a shocked yelp. He forces your legs apart until your knees are to your shoulders, allowing him deeper access to your cunt.

“Kookie, s-slow down,” your eyes flutter as you attempt to speak to Jungkook.

“No, mommy. Isn’t this what you wanted?” Jungkook retorts. “You wanted to be fucked and that’s what I’m going to do. Doesn’t my cock feel good in your pussy?”

Your eyes squeeze shut. Jungkook was someone you haven’t experienced in a long time. He was a naturally athletic person so his stamina was far greater than anyone you’ve dealt with. 

“It feels so good, Kookie.” you respond, deciding that it was easier to give in to the pleasure than to continue to fight against it. 

“Yeah?” Jungkook grunts, leaning down so that he’s hovering about your face. “Am I being good for you, mommy?”

Your walls grow tighter. You nod your head hastily. “So good for me, Kookie.” you moan. “You’re fucking m-mommy so well!”

Jungkook’s breathing increases with your words. This had to be sick from the outside looking in. Surely, Jungkook had something go on in his life that you were exploiting right now for your own sick pleasure.

Jungkook flips you onto your stomach and begins to fuck you doggystyle. Both of his hands are on your shoulders, his hips rutting into you. Your ass clashes against his abdomen in fast, clapping motions that it bounces off the walls of your bedroom.

“Fuck,” you hiss. Your pussy’s squelching loudly now. “you’re fucking mommy so good, Kook.”

Jungkook doesn’t want to cum yet - he doesn’t want it to be over. But he’s far too insatiable that he just cannot get enough of you. He ruts his hips faster and faster until he’s grunting just as  loud as you’re squealing.

“You’re such a slut, mommy. You’re all mine, aren’t you? Mine to fuck whenever I want.”

You don’t respond fast enough for Jungkook’s liking and a palm harshly slams against your ass cheek.

A loud squeal comes deep from your  lips and Jungkook just knows you liked it. His palm continues to slap against your ass as he pounds into you, harder and harder each time that it leaves the skin stinging.

Your back arches, thighs opening wider to take more of Jungkook like the slut he told you that you were. 

“Mommy’s gonna cum, Kookie!” you mewl.

“Oh yeah?” Jungkook chuckles, amused. He yanks you by your hair and forces you back, thighs opening wider. “Play with your clit, mommy. Cum all over my cock like you did my hands.”

It’s so humiliating how you listen to Jungkook’s demands. As his cock rams into your swollen hole, your fingers latch onto your clit and you twirl them on the bud.

Your head rests on his chest, your fingers jamming between your folds harshly. Your sobs became louder, pussy squeezing and stomach churning.

Jungkook wished there was a mirror in front of the two of you so he could watch how crude you were right now. Your pussy is squeezing him so tight that he sinks his teeth onto the skin of your shoulder.

“F-Fuck, Kookie, Mommy’s c-cumming…!”

Warm juices pool down your thighs again and stain the cotton bedsheets. Your eyes flutter, but don’t close. You’re stuttering dumbly, going limp in Jungkook embrace.

Jungkook pushes you away and forces you onto your back once more. He lays onto his side and faces you towards him, bringing his cock back into you after throwing your leg around his waist.

Jungkook isn't making anything easy for you. You were already going through the overstimulation and he goes to suckle onto your nipple hungrily once more. His palm rubs along your ass as his cock rut inside of you.

Jungkook’s eyes roll as his tongue twirls your nipple, sucking harder and harder.

You were going to cum again, your nipples  far too sensitive to not cum even harder than the last time. You place a hand onto Jungkook's cheek, rubbing it slightly.

“Cum for mommy, Kookie.” you coo softly, holding him against your chest. 

“I-In you?” Jungkook says muffled against your breast. “I’m gonna cum in mommy’s pussy.” he repeats, determined to do just that. “Gonna breed you so nice, mommy.” 

Jungkook sloppily pounds into you until he’s cumming the hardest he’s ever had in his life. He shudders at the feeling of painting your walls with his own seed, satisfaction flowing through him.

You’re exhausted, falling against your pillows with a huff. You’re breathing heavily and when the high comes down, you are going to have to speak with Jungkook about this. Whatever the hell this was.

Jungkook, however, doesn’t move. He only connects himself back to your breast and continues to suckle gently onto your breast, his hand softly squeezing the other way. You are far too exhausted (and comfortably content) to push him away like you should.

trivia-yandere: ok but like i feel like this needs a part 2