#sub jungkook

The sound of the running water echoed quietly through the bathroom. Steam gathered quickly, fogging the glass and leaving a thin layer of moisture over the tile. The air is heavy with the scent of vanilla body wash and something very musky, very manly.

Jungkook was standing under the main showerhead, his head bowed down, eyes closed, one forearm braced high against the wet tile. Water slides down the hard lines of his chest, over the defined ridges of his abs, tracing the deep lines of the V-lines that point down where you kneel.

You’re on your knees on the textured shower floor, the heat of the water spattering your back and shoulders. The sight of his cock, thick and fully erect, curving proudly upward his hard, trembling stomach. A pearl of precum leaks from his pink tip, glistening even in the fogged air. It makes your mouth water.

“Please..” he whispered, voice barely audible over the steamy rush of water. He leans back against the tile behind, arching his abdomen towards your face, as he gazed down with a pleading eyes, desperate for the feeling of your mouth on him.

Although, you very much enjoy edging and teasing Jungkook to submission, but you’re very desperate for his taste as well. You don’t wanna wait longer, so you lean forward and take him into your mouth in one smooth, deep motion.

A broken, guttural moan tears from his throat, raw and needy. His hands, which were loosely hanging at his sides, planted against the tile behind him, shoulders still resting against the wall. His knuckles turn white. His hips arch towards you, rutting his hips into your mouth, yielding to the sensation, as if your mouth is a gravity he cannot and does not want to resist.

You let him move into your mouth, establishing a rhythm that’s relentless, hungry, and needy. Hes a whimpering mess. Hes so loud, keening moans and words barely coherent slipping out of his mouth. His eyes are trying so hard to stay open, but the sensation is driving him wild. Your mouth feels so heavenly.

“Mmh..ah yesyesyesyesyes-” his breathing so heavy and hot, it sends a electric, warm sensation through your core. So you hollow your cheek and suck, hard.

Your head bobs, your lips creating a tight, wet seal as you move back and forth. The sounds are obscenely perfect in the steamy enclosure: the slick, wet pop as you pull off the head, the choked, heavy breaths from above, the low, continuous moan that seems to vibrate from his very core. His legs shaking as you swirl your tongue around the sensitive head, your hand holding him still as you nudge the slit with the tip of your tongue.

“Stop stop stop stop-“ his hands fly off the wall, yanking your head away, “I almost fucking came,” his thighs are trembling violently, chest heaving up and down fiercely. A breathless laugh escaped him, “Don’t do that, baby. You know.. i cum.. so fast like that,” breath still heavy between his words.

“My bad, you taste and sound so good.” You muffled through your squished cheeks, his palms unknowingly holding your face tight, they are trembling with his whole body. Damn, that tongue motion got him so bad, but you need his cock in your mouth again.

“Please, kook,” you whine, your hands gently parting his away from your cheeks, “fuck my face, use my mouth.”

You move forward again, but this time you nudge his pelvis, peering up at him pleadingly. You want him to completely use you, you want him to own your mouth and fuck it till you pass out.

“Oh baby, look at you,” he’s smiling devilishly, fingers threading through your wet hair, nudging you close to him, the other holding his dick up your face, watching your lips parting obediently.

“You want it?” He teased, slapping his heavy girth against your cheek, “you wanna taste my cum, don’t you” his voice getting rough, along with the hand in your hair. Fingers tightening, as he gently rock his hips onto your mouth.

“Please.” His cock sliding back and forth your open lips from the side, laving the hard throbbing veins along his shaft. You love when he is like this; completely owning you, using you how he please. And you take it every time, always happy to be his living fuck toy.

He finally slid his cock inside your mouth in a slow, steady motion. Still sensitive from his tip, moving his hips intentionally. His other hand feeling your neck, as his cock slide in and out of your throat.

“Fuck, you feel that?”

Slap!

“Answer me.” He knows you can’t speak, but he wants to feel the vibration of you trying to let out noises with his cock down your throat. So you whimper, a very long moan just to feel his hips shake under your hands.

“That’s it, keep moaning.” Voice trembling from the sensation, his movement getting faster, rolling his hips so intensely.

His eyes are dark, droopy with lust, glazed and drunk. His mouth wide open, never shy from slipping filthy noises. Hes looking at your face, watching your eyes well up from the overwhelming sensation.

You continued to moan his name around his cock, sensing his orgasm from his heavy chest and the way he trembles, taking the lead and bobbing you head.

“Fuck, just like that. Don’t stop,” His grip in your hair tightens. “Gonna come,” he warns, his voice shaking. “Baby please... gonna cum.”

You hum in answer, the vibration drawing a broken shout from him. You increase the pressure, bobbing faster, your own need coiling tight between your legs, ignored but pulsing with every beat of your heart.

“Please… take me..” god how much you love this part, him whimpering and pleading you to take his cum, his voice getting loud while his hips rutting in tiny, uncontrolled thrusts as he reach his peak. You could cum just from the sight of it.

A hot, bitter flood spills into the back of your throat as he grinds himself deeper, his hips stuttering. You swallow eagerly, taking every drop as he empties himself with broken moans, his body bowing over you.

For a moment, there is only the sound of the shower and his heavy breathing. Then, slowly, he softens in your mouth. You pull off with a final, gentle kiss to the tip.

He looks down at you, utterly spent, his expression a mix of awe and raw hunger. He sinks to his knees in front of you, the water crashing over both of you now. His hands cup your face, kissing you so deeply, his tongue swiping against your wet lips, tasing himself on you.

“Sit on my face?”

A/N: WOW IM WET FNNDJDKDKDKD

he stared at you. you smiled, snapping him out of it.

“hello.”

“did you order breakfast?”

he stepped out of the door way, gesturing for her to come in, “yes.”

you rushed to start arranging his food on the table. for a moment, he only heard the clicking noise of dishes.

“how’s your morning?”

he swallowed.

that should be trivial. meaningless. but it wasn’t. he didn’t remember the last time someone asked that question. 

jungkook’s eyes flicked down to the table before looking at you, “it’s… quiet.”

your hands paused mid motion, turning to him before you smoothed down the front of your skirt. “good quiet or bad?”

he didn’t answer. 

you deflated slightly, turning to his coffee. “i guess it depends on the person,” you set the mug down next to some syrup, “how many pumps?” 

he ran a hand through his hair, “four.”

you nodded, “yes, sir.”

he watched you move like you belonged there—like this was routine, like he was just another guest, another door to knock on, another voice to answer politely before moving on.

but you didn’t feel like just another housekeeper.

his gaze lingered longer than it should have, tracing the small details he had no business noticing. the way your fingers curled around the handle of the coffee pot, the soft concentration in your expression, the quiet rhythm of your movements.

it made something twist low in his chest.

something warm. something unfamiliar.

he shouldn’t be looking at you like this.

shouldn’t be feeling this… drawn.

and yet, when you’d asked him how his morning was, it hadn’t felt like small talk. it had felt real. like you meant it.

like you actually cared about the answer.

and he’d just… stood there.

said nothing.

watched you pull back, just slightly.

“it’s good quiet,” jungkook blurted.

you glanced at him, a little surprised, before offering a small smile.

“that’s good,” you said gently. “everyone needs a little quiet sometimes.”

you both fell silent, the only thing heard was the clinking of dishes and silverware.

you brushed off your apron, then gestured to his breakfast on the table, “your breakfast is ready, mr. jeon. have a beautiful day.” 

this time he was the one to smile first, “thank you.”

“my pleasure!” you replied enthusiastically, your hospitality training shining through as you closed the door behind you.

•••••

you didn’t hate your job.

your coworkers were kind. the guests weren’t, but you always told yourself that made the nice ones feel even nicer. the hotel was beautiful, a place that every service worker in your area aspired to be. 

as you sat in the break room with your fellow housekeepers, they all couldn’t stop talking about the same thing: jeon jungkook, maknae of the bts was staying there. 

what you didn’t tell them was that he was staying on your assigned floor. you had  found out when your manager sent you to a mr. jeon’s room and jungkook greeted you at the door.

the guests you served were almost always  memorable—powerful, rich, and sometimes famous people stayed at your hotel, but he was different.

your heart broke a little when you saw him. jeon jungkook was a beautiful man, of course, but what you couldn’t get over was the exhausted look in his eyes. they were dark, lonely, and sad. you had always heard the idol life had its struggles, but you had never seen it first hand. 

throughout the day, you didn’t know why you kept thinking about him.

maybe it was the way he looked at you like he was trying to figure something out.

or maybe it was the way he answered your question.

it’s good quiet.

it didn’t sound convincing.

•••••

when jungkook got to his room from a long shoot, he wanted to flop onto the bed and never get up again.

but he knew he couldn’t do that.

because he had a studio session tonight.

jungkook loved being a singer. he was living his childhood dream, and he couldn’t be happier he was doing it, but he wasn’t sure if he could make it back out of his room, his body aching for a good night’s sleep that it would not receive.

he grabbed the hotel landline and dialed the room service number. 

“hello! this is room service,” an undistinguishable, customer service voice greeted.

“do you serve coffee this late?” he blurted.

“yes, sir.”

he sighed, proceeding to order an iced coffee with four shots of espresso—something he knew would give him jitters, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

he heard a knock in what felt like no time, “room service!”

jungkook forced himself to get up.

it was you behind the door, holding his coffee with a bright smile on your face. 

“hello, mr. jeon!” you exclaimed, glowing even under the slightly dim hotel lighting. 

he cleared his throat, “it’s you again.“

“yes, you’re on my assigned floor. we’ll be seeing a lot of each other,” you offered the coffee to him, “please take a sip so i know it’s to your liking.”

he took the cup, fingers slightly brushing against your soft hands. “thank you, it’s great.“

you watched him intently, brows furrowed, “may i ask why you want coffee this late?”

he took a moment to figure out what to say, drawing a blank. “um… it’s a work thing.”

your head tilted ever so slightly, “okay, please take care of yourself.”

he was slightly taken aback. why do you care? 

“is there anything else you need?” you asked, hospitality training shining through yet again.

“no, thank you.” he took another sip.

“good night, mr. jeon.”

“good night.”

after that, he was shameless.

he asked for more towels, soap, sheets, blankets, food, whatever he could just to see your face. he was an addict and your mere presence was his fix. 

when he went on set during the day, he had a pep in his step that created whispers amongst the crew and his management. 

it didn’t take long for him to notice it.

the difference.

the way his chest didn’t feel as tight when he knew he’d see you.

the way the day felt… manageable.

jungkook had spent years learning how to perform exhaustion away, smiling through it, laughing through it, pushing through it until it didn’t matter anymore. but this was different.

this wasn’t something he had to fight.

it was something he waited for. between takes, his mind drifted. not to the music, not to the cameras, but to you.

to the sound of your voice, soft and polite through the door. to the way you said his name like it didn’t carry any weight. to the way you looked at him like he was just a man standing in a hotel room.

he found himself checking the time more than he should.

counting down hours without meaning to. wondering if you were working. if you were on his floor. if you were knocking on someone else’s door, smiling that same smile, asking someone else how their morning was.

his jaw tightened slightly at the thought. then he exhaled, shaking it off. it didn’t matter. you always came back.

you always knocked on his door.

and when you did, everything quieted.

the noise in his head, the pressure in his chest, the weight of everything he carried all softened, just a little, just enough.

just because you were there. just because you looked at him like that.

like he was someone worth asking about.

jungkook leaned back in his chair between takes, staring at nothing, a faint, almost imperceptible smile tugging at his lips.

he didn’t know when it had started.

didn’t know when you had become the part of his day he looked forward to the most.

he yearned for you. not your looks, not your body. you.

he just knew that the thought of not seeing you tomorrow felt wrong. unsettling. like something important would be missing. like the quiet would come back.

and this time, he didn’t think he could stand it.

the next day, he called for you again. he knew he didn’t need anything, but the room felt too quiet again. 

and he already knew what fixed that.

this time, he got breakfast. he loved when he could order food. that was when he had the most time with you. you would tell him little stories about your college classes or your family.

sometimes jungkook thought about what it would be like to meet them. how you would introduce him, your beautiful smile meant for just him. how your mother would overanalyze him as you said she overanalyzes everything. how your father would talk his ear off like you said he did to everyone. how you would cover your face with your hands like you did when you got flustered.

his heart almost skipped a beat when he heard the a knock on his door and your cheery voice, “room service!”

he practically ran to the door as if you would disappear if he didn’t reach you soon enough. 

any tension he felt earlier melted away as he opened the door and saw your face. the look you gave him was different this time. still sweet, but a little curious.

he froze.

you giggled, “you really like room service, mr. jeon.” 

“i—yeah, i guess,” jungkook rubbed the back of his head, “it’s… convenient.”

he felt heat crawling up his neck as he stared at you. 

you had a gold necklace on today. you normally wore silver. was this a special day? did you have anything planned after this? did you change your preference? did you—

your eyes crinkled in confusion. “um… would you like me to come in?”

he jumped. “uh, yes, of course,” he stepped aside, “sorry.”

“it’s okay, it’s early,” you strolled to his table, setting down his breakfast.

when you passed him, his eyebrows furrowed. you had perfume on. you never wore perfume. this had to be a special day. 

“i like your jewlery,” he finally said. “is it new?”

your cheeks flushed slightly, “thank you. i’m surprised anyone noticed.” 

you paused for a moment, as if thinking about what you wanted to say next, “it’s because…” you sat down the breakfast platter for a moment to lean closer to him. his heart raced. 

“i have a date,” you whispered.

the words didn’t register at first.

they hung in the air between you—soft, almost shy, like they weren’t meant to hurt anything.

you have a date.

jungkook blinked. once. twice. as if his mind needed a second longer to catch up to something his chest had already understood.

oh.

that’s why.

the necklace.

the perfume.

the way you looked a little brighter today. it wasn’t random. it wasn’t for no reason.

it wasn’t for him.

something in his chest dipped, slow and heavy, like a quiet drop he hadn’t braced for. he swallowed, forcing his expression to stay neutral, even as his fingers curled slightly at his side. 

“a date,” he repeated, softer this time, like he was testing how it felt to say it out loud.

you nodded, a little bashful now, eyes flicking away from his.

“it’s nothing big,” you added quickly, “just… someone who asked me out.”

just. the word sat wrong with him. because it didn’t feel small. not when it was you. not when it explained everything he had been noticing. every detail he had been turning over in his head like it meant something.

it did mean something. just not what he thought. his gaze drifted to the necklace again, the way it rested against your skin, unfamiliar in a way that suddenly felt… deliberate. chosen. for someone else to see.

his jaw tightened before he could stop it. he didn’t like that. he didn’t like the idea of someone else noticing the same things he did. the way your smile softened when you got a little shy. the way your voice dipped when you said something personal. the way you stood just a little closer when you forgot yourself. he had noticed those things. he had been noticing. and now someone else would, too.

“that’s… nice,” he said finally, the words coming out steadier than he felt.

you smiled at that. soft. grateful. the same smile you gave him. and for the first time, it didn’t feel like his.

something tight settled in his chest, unfamiliar and unwelcome.

because he realized, all at once, how easily you moved through your day. how easily you smiled. how easily you would leave this room, step into the rest of your life, and forget him.

jungkook looked at you for a moment longer, quieter now, something fragile flickering behind his eyes. he hadn’t realized how much he had started to look forward to you.

hadn’t realized how much space you had taken up in his day, until suddenly, there was someone else standing in it. someone else who would get your time, your attention, your laugh.

his grip tightened slightly around nothing.

because the thought settled, heavy and undeniable.

he didn’t want to share.

tonight was a rare night off.  due to a scheduling conflict, the studio was booked and jungkook didn’t have to work tonight.

his friends dragged him out, saying that the club scene in this city was great, but no matter what, jungkook couldn’t shake the overwhelming numbness of it all. he couldn’t have fun. not when you were out somewhere tonight with another guy.

the music was too loud. the lights were too bright. jungkook sat back in the booth, barely listening, nodding along to conversations he wasn’t part of. he checked his messages. not because he had any he wanted to respond to, but because he wanted to pass time.

his thumb hovered over his screen before it dimmed, reflecting his face back at him. it was tired, distant.

his mind drifted to you. to the way you had smelled that morning. soft. different. how you’d smiled when you mentioned your plans. how easily you had said it. i have a date.

his jaw tightened. he didn’t like that he remembered it so clearly. didn’t like that it had followed him here, into a room full of people, into a night that was supposed to distract him.

“you’re quiet tonight,” one of his friends said, nudging his shoulder.

“just tired,” jungkook replied automatically, not looking up.

“then drink,” someone else laughed, sliding a glass toward him.

he took it, more out of habit than anything, bringing it to his lips without tasting it. it didn’t help. nothing did.

another wave of bass shook the room, lights flashing across the crowd, bodies moving too close, too loud, too much.

he exhaled, leaning back further into the booth, eyes scanning the room without interest.

and then he saw you.

everything stopped. not the music. not the lights. not the people. just him.

his grip tightened slightly around the glass in his hand as his gaze locked across the room.

for a second, he thought he was imagining it. that maybe his mind had gotten so used to thinking about you, it had started placing you in places you weren’t.

but no. it was you. standing near the bar, turned slightly to the side, your face lit up by a softer light than the rest of the room.

you weren’t in your uniform. no pressed apron. no neat, careful presentation. you looked… different. your hair fell a little looser. your clothes hugged you in a way he hadn’t seen before. there was a lightness to you, something unguarded, something that didn’t belong to the girl who knocked on his door every morning.

you were smiling.

not the polite, practiced smile he had memorized. this one was wider. easier. real. something in his chest pulled tight.

you laughed at something. soft at first, then brighter, and jungkook’s eyes shifted. to him.

the man standing next to you. too close.

close enough that he leaned in when he spoke. close enough that you didn’t step away. jungkook went still. 

oh. this was what you meant.

your “plans.”

his fingers curled slightly against the glass, condensation damp against his skin.

he watched the way the man looked at you like he was trying to charm you, like he had the right to stand there and take up your space, like he was someone you had chosen to spend your time with.

something unfamiliar twisted low in his chest. sharp. uncomfortable.

he didn’t like it.

he didn’t like it at all.

you didn’t laugh like that in his room. you didn’t smile like that at him.

the thought came before he could stop it. and it lingered.

his gaze didn’t move. couldn’t.

the rest of the room blurred into nothing, the music fading into a dull hum, conversations dissolving into noise.

it was just you.

you, and the way you tucked your hair behind your ear when you got shy. you, and the way you looked down for a second before looking back up at him—at him—with that same soft expression.

his jaw clenched.

he forced himself to take another sip of his drink, but it did nothing to ground him. nothing to pull him away.

“jungkook.”

he didn’t respond.

“jungkook.”

a hand waved briefly in front of his face.

he blinked, finally tearing his eyes away for a split second.

“what?” he muttered.

“you good?” his friend asked, brows furrowed slightly.

“yeah,” he said, too quickly.

his gaze drifted back. you were still there. still smiling. still with him. 

jungkook’s  chest felt tight. too tight. he shifted forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees now, like that would somehow bring him closer, like it would make any difference at all. 

it didn’t. you were still out of reach. 

worse, you didn’t even know he was there. the thought settled heavy.

you didn’t know. you didn’t look for him.

you weren’t waiting for him the way he—

he exhaled sharply, leaning back again, dragging a hand down his face.

this was ridiculous.

he barely knew you.

you were—

you were just—

his gaze flickered back to you again, softer this time, something quieter slipping into the sharpness.

you were you. that was the problem.

another laugh left your lips, and the man beside you said something that made you nudge his arm lightly.

jungkook looked away this time. he couldn’t watch that. not again.

“i’m heading out,” he said suddenly, already pushing himself to his feet.

“already?” someone asked, surprised.

“yeah.”

no explanation. he didn’t wait for one either.

the music hit him harder as he stepped out of the booth, weaving through the crowd without looking back.

but he felt it. the pull. the urge to turn around. to look for you one more time. to make sure you were still there. he didn’t.

he pushed through the doors instead, the cool night air hitting his skin as he stepped outside.

it was quieter out here. not the same quiet. but better. he stood there for a moment, breathing, trying to steady something inside of him that felt… off. unsettled.

his mind replayed it anyway. your smile. your laugh. the way you stood next to someone else like it was normal. his jaw tightened.

he hadn’t realized how much he had started to think of you as his. not until he saw you with someone else.

•••••

jeon jungkook had become your favorite guest.

he was polite, quiet, shy, and thoughtful. he wasn’t too difficult on the eyes, either. jungkook carried this sadness with him that made your heart ache. his eyes were wracked with a deep exhaustion that made you want to lock him in his hotel room so he had one good night’s sleep.

and yet, sometimes, rarely, he smiled. a real one.

it was subtle. quiet. but when it happened, it was like catching sunlight in your hands. you wished you could play it on loop. 

your date was… disappointing. the guy was handsome, successful, everything that would make him perfect to bring home to your parents, but neither of you could escape the feeling of emptiness. when you noticed his eye start to wander to other girls in the club, you called your uber. who takes someone to a club for their first date anyways?

the night air was cooler than you expected.

you wrapped your arms around yourself as you stepped off the curb, the sound of the club fading further behind you with every step. your heels clicked softly against the pavement, slower now, no rush in your stride.

you felt silly for thinking maybe tonight would be something more than what it was.

you sighed, glancing down at your phone, debating whether to call it a night completely or stop by the convenience store on the corner before heading home.

“hey.”

your steps faltered.

you turned, brows knitting together slightly, and your breath caught. “mr. jeon?”

he stood a few feet away from you, hands tucked loosely into his pockets, shoulders slightly tense like he hadn’t expected to actually say anything once he saw you.

his hair was a little messy, like he’d been running his hands through it too much. his eyes—

you noticed his eyes first. they weren’t distant like usual. they were focused.

on you.

“i—” you blinked, taken aback. “hi.”

a small, awkward silence fell between you, the distant hum of traffic filling the space.

“you know someone around here?” you asked, trying to fill it.

he nodded once.

“yeah.”

he didn’t.

but that didn’t matter right now.

his gaze moved over you, slower than it ever had before, taking in everything—the outfit, the way your hair had loosened, the faint smudge of your makeup, the same soft scent that had been lingering in his room earlier.

“you went out,” he said.

it wasn’t a question.

you let out a small laugh, a little embarrassed now under his attention.

“yeah,” you nodded. “i had a date.”

there was a pause.

you didn’t know why you kept talking.

maybe it was the way he was looking at you. maybe it was how easy it felt to just… say things to him.

“it wasn’t that great, though,” you admitted, shrugging slightly. “i left early.”

something in his expression shifted.

subtle. but there.

“good,” he said, too quickly.

you blinked.

he froze, like he hadn’t meant to say it out loud.

“i mean—” he exhaled, dragging a hand through his hair. “i just… you deserve better than that.”

your heart skipped.

“you don’t even know him,” you said softly.

“i don’t have to,” he replied just as quietly.

the air between you changed.

you could feel it. thicker now. heavier. your fingers tightened slightly around your phone.

“mr. jeon—”

“jungkook,” he interrupted.

your breath caught again.

“jungkook,” he repeated, softer this time. “you can call me jungkook.”

you swallowed.

“okay… jungkook.”

the way you said his name—it did something to him. something that made his chest feel too tight, too full all at once. he stepped closer. not enough to crowd you. just enough that you noticed.

“can i walk you home? it’s pretty late.”

you nodded, him walking beside you as you both began to walk up the empty streets. it didn’t take long before you reached your apartment door. 

“i saw you,” he admitted, breaking the long silence.

your brows furrowed slightly.

“what?”

“at the club.”

oh. your stomach flipped. “you were there?”

he nodded, “yeah.”

you looked down for a second, suddenly self-conscious.

“that’s… kind of embarrassing,” you laughed softly. “i didn’t even see you.”

“i know,” he said.

there was something in the way he said it.

something that made you look back up.

his eyes hadn’t left you.

not once.

“you looked…” he started, then stopped, like he didn’t know how to finish it.

you waited.

he tried again, “you looked happy.”

you frowned slightly.

“i wasn’t.”

another step closer. this one smaller.

more careful.

“i know,” he said quietly.

your breath hitched.

“how would you—”

“because i was watching you.”

the words settled between you.

your heart started beating a little faster.

“that’s…” you trailed off, unsure what to say.

but you didn’t step away. you didn’t feel scared. just confused. overwhelmed.

“why?” you asked softly.

his jaw tightened slightly.

“because i couldn’t not,” he admitted.

your breath caught.

“jungkook—”

“i don’t like it,” he said, more firmly now. “seeing you with someone else.”

your eyes widened slightly.

“what?”

“i don’t like it,” he repeated, quieter this time. “i thought i could ignore it. i thought—” he let out a breath, shaking his head. “i can’t.”

your heart was racing now. this didn’t make sense.

“why?” you asked again, barely above a whisper. “you don’t even know me.”

“i do,” he said.

you blinked.

“what?”

“i know the way you knock,” he continued softly. “twice. always twice.”

“i know you hum when you think no one’s listening.”

“i know you like extra syrup in your coffee even though you pretend you don’t.”

your lips parted. you hadn’t realized—

“i know you,” he repeated.

your chest tightened.

“that’s not—” you shook your head slightly, overwhelmed. “that’s not the same.”

“i know it’s not,” he said quickly. “i know i should take more time, i know i should do this the right way but—”

he stopped. looked at you. really looked at you.

“i can’t stand the idea of you walking into someone else’s life like that,” he said quietly.

your heart stuttered.

“like what?” you whispered.

“like you did mine.”

silence. the city noise faded again, just like before. just like when he first saw you. your fingers curled slightly at your sides.

“i’m just—” you let out a small, nervous laugh. “i’m just the girl who brings you food.”

his expression softened immediately.

“don’t say that.”

his hand moved before he could stop himself, gently brushing against your wrist—warm, careful, nothing like the rush in your chest. 

“you’re not just anything.”

your breath hitched.

“then what am i?” you asked, barely steady.

he didn’t hesitate this time.

“mine.”

the word was soft. not demanding. but certain. your eyes widened.

“jungkook—”

he closed the distance. slowly.

giving you time to pull away.

you didn’t.

his hand lifted, fingers brushing lightly against your cheek, like he was afraid you might disappear if he touched you too firmly.

“tell me to stop,” he murmured.

you didn’t. you couldn’t.

not when he was looking at you like that.

not when your heart felt like it was about to beat out of your chest.

not when you wanted this.

his lips pressed against yours. soft, hesitant at first. like he was testing something fragile. then a little firmer when you didn’t pull away.

your hand came up instinctively, gripping lightly at the front of his shirt, grounding yourself in something real.

you kissed him back. just for a second. just enough.

when you pulled away, your breath was uneven, your eyes wide as you stared up at him.

“you… you want me?” you asked, disbelief laced through your voice.

jungkook’s expression softened in a way you had never seen before. completely unguarded.

“i think about you all the time,” he admitted quietly.

“i wait for you.”

“i look for you.”

your head spun. this is was a lot to process for you. 

his thumb brushed lightly against your cheek, “of course i want you.”

you unlocked your door, letting him in and locking it behind him.

this time, you kissed him, and pure catharsis washed over you. he kissed you like starved man devouring his first meal. he gently pressed you against the nearest wall as he moved from your lips to your neck, your breath hitching as he left little lovebites all over your neck and chest.

his hands trembled slightly against your skin, a stark contrast to the confident way his mouth claimed you. he was shaking, you realized. this powerful, quiet man was trembling in your arms, and it sent a heady rush through you. he was completely undone, and you were the cause.

"jungkook," you breathed, your fingers tangling in the soft hair at the nape of his neck, tugging him closer, encouraging him. "don’t stop."

he let out a choked sound, something between a groan and a sigh of relief. his kisses became more desperate, more worshipful. he wasn't just kissing you; he was memorizing you. his lips traced the line of your jaw, down the sensitive skin of your throat, his tongue darting out to taste the rapid pulse beating there. he was addicted, and this was his first real hit in months.

"you have no idea," he murmured against your collarbone, his voice thick with an emotion that sounded dangerously like adoration. "no idea how long i’ve wanted this."

he pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark and swimming with a vulnerability that made your chest ache. he looked completely lost in you, his gaze roaming over your face as if he was trying to commit every detail to memory. he looked at your mouth, then back to your eyes, a silent question passing between you.

you answered by pulling him down for another kiss, this one slower, deeper. You took control, tilting your head and deepening the kiss, your tongue sweeping against his. he yielded instantly, a soft moan escaping him as he let you lead. He followed your rhythm, his hands gripping your hips like you were his only anchor in a storm. the power was yours, and he was willingly, desperately, giving it all to you.

"please," he whispered against your lips, the word barely audible but loaded with meaning. It was a plea. a surrender. he was asking for permission to fall apart, and you were the only one who could catch him.

you nipped at his lower lip, a sharp, possessive bite that made him gasp. "jungkook… what do you want?” you asked sweetly.

"you," he answered immediately, without hesitation. "everything… just you."

you led him down your short hallway to your bedroom, giving him quick kisses on the way there. 

you both tumbled onto your bed, you laying below him. 

he grabbed the bottom of your dress, “can i?”

you nodded, and he pulled the fabric over your head, leaving you in just your panties. he drunk you in for a moment, staring at you like a worshipper at a shrine. he crawled down so his face was between your legs. 

he looked up at you with wide, shiny eyes.

 “can i…” he started, his voice cracking on the last syllable. “can i taste you?” he slid his fingers to the waistband of your panties in anticipation, “please.” 

just as you were about to say yes, he kept going, “please," he whispered again, his voice thicker this time, more desperate. "i need to... i need to taste you. i've thought about it for so long. please, let me make you feel good. i'll be so good for you, i promise. just... please."

the plea was so raw, so sweet that heat shot straight to your core. “yes,” you breathed, barely a sigh.

he let out a shaky, grateful gasp and surged forward. his hands gripped your thighs as he hooked his fingers into the sides of your underwear and slowly pulled them down, his eyes closing for a second as if he was in prayer. and then his mouth was on you.

it wasn't rushed or clumsy. it was slow, deliberate, and utterly devastating. he explored you with his tongue, learning every fold, every sensitive spot with an artist's focus. he took his time, building a slow, burning fire deep in your belly that made your toes curl. it was overwhelming, the intensity of his focus, the way he seemed to be getting as much pleasure from this as you were.

your hand flew to his hair, your fingers tangling in the soft strands as the pleasure mounted, higher and higher, a tight coil of heat ready to snap. the pressure built until it was almost unbearable, and your fingers clenched, pulling hard.

he stopped instantly. the sudden loss of sensation made you gasp, your eyes flying open. panic seized you. "oh my god, did i hurt you? jungkook, i'm so sorry, i—"

he looked up at you from between your legs, his lips swollen and glistening, his eyes hazy with pleasure. there was no pain on his face, only a dark, blissed-out need. "do it again," he rasped, his voice rough. "please. pull my hair again. i liked it."

your breath hitched. he liked it. the thought sent a fresh wave of arousal through you. hesitantly, your fingers tightened in his hair again, pulling harder this time. his eyes fluttered shut, a low moan escaping his lips before he dove back in, his mouth more demanding, more hungry than before.

with his plea echoing in your ears, you stopped holding back. you tightened your grip, a sharp, deliberate tug that pulled a ragged, beautiful sound from his throat. he didn't flinch away; he leaned into it, his whole body shuddering with what you now understood was pure, unadulterated pleasure.

and then his mouth was on you again, and the world narrowed to this single, devastating point of contact. he was so sweet about it, so devoted. every movement of his tongue was a prayer, every gentle suck a promise. he wasn't just trying to get you off; he was trying to prove something, to show you with his mouth what he couldn't yet find the words for. he was showing you that he was yours, completely.

the contrast was intoxicating. the harsh sting in his scalp from the way you were pulling his hair, and the soft, reverent way he was worshipping you with his mouth. you could feel his moans vibrating against you, little whimpers of pleasure that he couldn't hold back every time you tightened your grip. he was getting off on this, on the pain, on the submission, on the taste of you.

"jungkook," you gasped, your head falling back against your soft pillows. your hips started to move against his face, chasing the friction, the building pressure. you weren't thinking anymore, just feeling. feeling the heat coiling in your stomach, the tingling in your limbs, the overwhelming sweetness of his utter surrender.

he sensed you were close. his movements became more focused, more determined. his tongue found that perfect, sensitive spot and circled it relentlessly, while his lips sealed around you, sucking with a gentle, insistent pressure that made your vision blur. you pulled his hair again, harder this time, a sharp, possessive yank that made him cry out against you.

the vibration was the final push. the coil in your stomach snapped, and pleasure crashed over you in a blinding, all-consuming wave. you cried out his name, your body arching off the wall as you came, your fingers still tangled tight in his hair, holding him to you.

he didn't stop. he stayed with you, his mouth gentle now, lapping at you softly, helping you ride out the aftershocks until you were limp and trembling, your legs barely able to hold you up. he finally pulled back, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses to your inner thighs, his face flushed and slick, his eyes looking up at you with a look of such utter adoration it made your chest ache.

he looked completely blissed out, like he'd just been given the greatest gift in the world. "was that... was that okay?" he whispered, his voice hoarse.

you could only manage a breathless nod, your fingers still stroking through his hair, now gentle instead of pulling. "more than okay," you managed to say, your voice soft. "jungkook... that was perfect."

he looked at you, a fine tremor still running through him. he was wrecked, his lips swollen and his eyes dark with a desperate, possessive hunger.

"please," he whispered against your lips, the word a raw, needy sound. "i need to be inside you. please, i need to feel you. i need to know you're mine."

you answered with a nod, and he quickly crawled up over you, his body covering yours. he settled between your legs, his hips pressing forward, the hard length of him straining against his jeans. he was trembling, his breath coming in harsh, uneven pants.

"are you sure?" he asked, though it sounded less like a question and more like a plea for you to confirm that this wasn't a dream.

instead of answering, you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him down, guiding him to your entrance. he gasped as he slowly pushed inside, his eyes rolling back, a high, broken whine coming out of his mouth. he filled you completely, a perfect, aching stretch.

he didn't move at first, just stayed there, buried deep inside you, his face buried in the crook of your neck. he was trembling, his breath coming in harsh, uneven pants. "don't let go," he whimpered, his voice muffled against your skin. "please, don't ever let me go."

"i won't," you promised, your hands tangling in his hair again, this time in a gentle, grounding hold. "i've got you."

that seemed to break something loose in him. he started to move, slowly at first, then with a little more confidence. his thrusts were deep and deliberate, not fast, but full of a desperate, aching need. he was making love to you like it was the first and last time he'd ever get to do it.

every sound he made was a whimper or a moan of your name. "you feel so good," he'd pant, his voice breaking. "so much better than i ever imagined." he was clingy, his hands never leaving you, one gripping your hip, the other laced through your fingers, holding on for dear life. he was needy, seeking your mouth for kisses between ragged breaths, his eyes constantly searching yours for reassurance.

the intimacy of it was overwhelming. this wasn't just sex; it was a confession. it was him laying himself bare, giving you every broken, desperate, devoted piece of himself. and you took it all, holding him close, meeting his thrusts, whispering soft words of encouragement against his lips.

"say it again," he panted, his voice thick with emotion. "tell me you're mine."

"i'm yours, jungkook," you whispered, your voice soft but firm. "all yours."

the words seemed to fuel him, his thrusts becoming a little deeper, a little more possessive. he was still sweet, so needy, but there was an edge to him now, a desperate need to claim you, to mark you as his own.

"mine," he sobbed, his rhythm faltering as his own release started to build. "you're all mine."

you came first, a quiet, intense wave of pleasure that washed over you, pulling a soft cry from your lips. feeling you tighten around him was his undoing. he buried his face in your neck again, his body shuddering as he found his release, a broken, beautiful moan of your name spilling from his lips.

he collapsed on top of you, his full weight pressing you into the mattress, but you didn't mind. you held him as he trembled through the aftershocks, his face still hidden in your neck. you could feel his tears, hot and silent against your skin. you just held him tighter, stroking his hair, whispering that it was okay, that you were here.

after a long moment, he shifted, propping himself up on his elbows to look at you. his face was tear-streaked and flushed, his eyes red-rimmed but shining with a light you'd never seen before.

"stay," he whispered, his voice thick and hoarse. "please... just stay with me tonight."

you reached up, gently wiping a tear from his cheek with your thumb. "i'm not going anywhere," you promised softly. "i'm right here."

he let out a shaky breath, a small, watery-eyed smile finally gracing his lips. it was the real one. the one that was like catching sunlight in your hands. and it was all for you.

author’s note: thank you for reading! i hope you liked this, because idk how to feel about it!!! i’ve been wanting to try writing sub!jk so i hope it worked out! if you liked this, please check out my other fics<333

Rolling out of bed, you pick your white IKEA robe up from the floor where you dropped it last night, draping it over your silk nightgown and heading toward the bathroom to pee.

It hits you two minutes later, as you're standing in front of your open fridge, that you have vampire blood in there. The color-marked vials are staring back at you where they lie in all their glory, right next to a can of sugar-free Red Bull and the entirely empty bottle of ketchup you should've thrown out a month ago and that you evidently missed during your latest cleaning session.

Two of the three vials, you centrifuged at the clinic, meaning they're prepared for machine analysis but won't tell you much under the microscope. That's why you saved one, grabbing it—and the Red Bull—and putting them on the kitchen table, using your forearm to clear a space from the newly acquired library books.

You make a mental note to put the other two vials in the freezer since you don't know when you'll have a chance to analyze them at the clinic.

Vampire blood, how crazy. It's all you think about as you venture into your living room and pluck the microscope down from a shelf. Vampire blood. Who would've thought? When Jeongguk isn't near, it's easier to look at the situation objectively because are you entirely sure you met a vampire? You didn't just dream everything during a particularly rough fever?

But the blood staring at you from the kitchen table is different from what you usually deal with.

Preparing microscope slides is a process very familiar to you; something you could do with your eyes closed, but you don't think you've ever been as curious as you currently are, doing this one. The blood in the vial—already containing a bit of anticoagulant—is dark, and so is the drop you slowly transfer onto the thin glass slide with a plastic pipette.

Carefully, you place the coverslip on top, the smell of iron already wafting to your nose. It's not unpleasant, just… a lot stronger than what you're used to.

Leaning forward and putting your eyes to the ocular lenses, you switch the objective lens and adjust the position of the stage under it until the cells are sharp. You're not sure what you expected exactly, but you're not that surprised to see the massive amount of red blood cells; after all, they're what give the blood its red hue.

What you didn't expect was for them to be so much smaller than those of a human. You zoom in further, finding that they look a lot like ordinary red blood cells—almost like donuts—just smaller. Normally, having smaller red blood cells is a condition in itself and nothing good, but paired together with the astronomical amount of them?

There are surprisingly few goats in your town. When you do treat any, the most common reasons are difficult births, castrations, or urinary blockages, and therefore, it's been a long while since you got the chance to inspect caprine blood up close.

Taking a step back, you search for the phone you put somewhere as you prepared the microscope, finding it a little too close to the sink for your liking, before opening the browser and quickly typing 'goat erythrocytes'.

Just as you remembered: although rounder, the cells in the images that pop up are definitely smaller. There's also a shitload more of them, tightly packed like Jeongguk's. And as far as you can recall, those features are essentially what allow goats to live at higher altitudes, where the air is thinner and oxygen scarcer.

Since the exchange of oxygen happens at the membrane surface, and a bunch of smaller cells still have more surface area than fewer, larger ones, they're capable of transporting a lot more oxygen.

Satisfied with yet another plausible, logical explanation, you put the phone down and lean back in to the oculars, only to find that, despite the anticoagulant from the vial, Jeongguk's blood is already clotting.

Apparently, you lack one human emotion: shame. You know you possessed it as recently as a few days ago, but you must've lost it somewhere?

"Thank you so much."

"No problem, I'll email you the bill," you say, waving the relieved horse owner goodbye as you turn to the clinic car, vet bag firmly in hand.

A mere second after you've planted yourself into the driver's seat, you reach for the phone, pulling it out of your pocket. Your hands are dirty, fingers covered in that dark grime that comes from scratching a horse too long, but you barely notice as you inspect the screen for a reply to a text you sent an hour ago.

You: Hey, you wouldn't happen to be home, would you?

You don't even care if you just saw him yesterday. Or actually, you do care, cause it's embarrassing, but he also said to ask all the questions before he leaves town, so that's what you're doing.

You: Cause I'm driving by not far from you and I happen to have this jar I'd like you to spit in?

Yes, you're double-texting even.

But shame's claws reach and miss because just below your latest text, there's a reply.

Jeon Jeongguk: Stop by whenever. If I don't open then the door is unlocked.

Confusion grows as you start the car. Why wouldn't he simply open the door?

You try to think of a reason the entire ride there, none the wiser even as you step out of the car—hands cleaned by three antiseptic wipes—and walk up the stairs to the black-painted door.

However, five or so seconds after you knock, you hear footsteps approach on the other side, and then the door opens with a slight creak.

"Hey."

Jeongguk isn't wearing a shirt; only light blue jeans that you suspect he usually pairs with a belt because they're hanging a little too low on his hips, showcasing another white waistband stamped with the letters of Mr Klein.

Your wide eyes take him in, but his naked top half—bulging with muscle and skin even looking invitingly warm—isn't even what gathers most of your attention. No, that would be his black hair, messy and sticking out in multiple directions, and his half-closed, hooded eyes.

"Hi," you reply, your voice a tad too quiet as you admire him.

You'd try to hide it better, but it doesn't seem like he notices your slight—and almost dreamy—smile as he opens the door further and steps back. You follow, closing the door behind you and bend down to remove your shoes. While down there, you happen to notice that he's barefoot.

"Were you… sleeping?" you ask as you straighten up, seeing him look just a little more awake. Key word: a little.

He nods, turning to lead you somewhere. "Yeah, I tried to stay awake, but I ate just before you texted and that means I sleep after, like… almost involuntarily."

You follow, warmth spreading throughout your chest and not only because he's close by, his body heat radiating through your clothes.

"You sleep after eating?" you ask, endeared to hell and back. "You should've just told me you were busy today."

He stops in the kitchen, turning to you. You drop your bag on the floor.

"Yeah," he smiles lazily. "I can stay awake, but it's difficult."

"I can tell," you joke, tilting your head. God, why is he so endearing. "Do you think I could take your blood after you've eaten some time? See the difference and what makes you so sleepy?"

He nods. "Sure. Now?"

You pat your pockets, an act entirely uselessly since you don't keep your vet equipment there regardless.

"I don't have the right equipment with me, unfortunately. Maybe some other day?"

"Sure," he rubs his naked arm, yawning. "…Want me to bring blood to the clinic and drink it there?"

"I'd love that. Or…" You suddenly remember something. "When you say that you're hard to wake… Maybe it would be a bad idea to have you sleep at the clinic in case someone shows up again?"

His quick reflexes, speed, and agility were definitely the only reason Momo didn't find him at the clinic last time. You remember how heavy his limp arm was in your hands; what the hell would you even begin to do if someone came and Jeongguk wasn't waking up?

"Hm, you're right," he seemingly agrees, leaning against the counter, arms crossed lazily across his naked chest. "Come here then?"

"Sure," you agree, trying not to stare too blatantly at his chest or his arms. Or his abs and the faint little happy trail creeping up toward his belly button.

"Great. So… you wanted me to… spit in a cup?" he reminds you, and it looks like he's about to yawn again.

Suddenly reminded, you reach into your bag. "Yes, but also… I got a hold of one of these," you say, straightening up and holding the cup out to him. It's made out of a clear plastic with a soft, almost rubber-like lid up top.

"You want me to pee in it or what?" he asks, taking the cup from your hand and tilting it curiously in his.

"No," you snicker. "Although if you'd pee in a cup for me as well, I wouldn't turn it down. This is a special cup used for venomous snakes. Put their heads to the top, wiggle it a little, and they'll bite. Their fangs will sink through the lid here and the venom drips through and collects at the bottom."

He moves the cup to his mouth. "I just…?" he asks, demonstrating by sinking his teeth into the air above the cup.

"Yeah. Bite it and hold it there for as long as there's venom."

"Will you lend me your hand?"

Surprised—and with your heart skipping a quick beat—you blink but nonetheless offer him your left hand, electricity traveling through your skin when he takes it in his. He holds it so gently, feeling so warm against you, tired eyes finding some sort of focus as they lock onto yours, and he lowers his face to your wrist.

"I thought you… didn't need anything like this?" you ask quietly, heart jumping when he ghosts his nose over the sensitive skin of your wrist.

"Technically, I don't," he says, letting go of your hand and straightening up. You don't see any fangs. "Certain occasions make it easier, though. Like at the bar, when I was drunk, or now, when I'm already full and half asleep."

Nodding because his explanations are logical after all, you watch as he sinks his teeth—fangs—into the taut lid of the cup. Through the plastic, you see drops fall and liquid slowly pool at the bottom.

Then, you hear something. Something… small. You look down, seeing one of the kittens on its hind legs, clumsily reaching up toward you. "Oh, hello?"

It's so much bigger than when you last saw it and its siblings, and you crouch down, carefully picking the black little kitten up. It meows again, settling into your soft hold until it seemingly does a double take at Jeongguk, who stands motionless, watching, with his teeth still in the cup. The little kitten stares.

"What is dad doing, huh?" you coo quietly, smiling at the curious kitten.

Looking at the father in question, he lets out an amused breath before he removes his teeth from the cup, lifting it to inspect the results.

"Is this enough?"

You follow his gaze, watching the liquid at the bottom. It's much less than the blood you collected, and it's relatively translucent.

"Yeah, thank you so much," you say—way too excited—putting the kitten down and watching it dash away to pick a fight with an approaching sibling.

From your bag, you grab the other cup, a standard one meant for saliva, and you hold it out to Jeongguk, trading it for the collected venom.

"I just spit in this one?"

You nod, attention fully on the venom in the clear cup. It's just a tad thicker than water, fluidly following gravity as you tilt the small container.

"Do you happen to know the best way to store this?" you ask, peering over at Jeongguk, who's in the middle of letting his spit drip down into the other cup. "Because snake venom, for instance, is pretty sensitive and needs to be chilled rather quickly. But snakes are, you know, 'cold-blooded,' and you're like, insanely warm. I'm thinking I just go home and put it in the fridge? I'll definitely look at it tonight."

"I don't think it's that sensitive, but I know you can freeze it."

He hands you the other cup as well, and you pack them away safely in your bag.

"So… when are you free?" you ask, trying not to blush. "For the blood?"

Looking like he's soon succumbing to sleep whether he likes it or not, Jeongguk shrugs. "Tomorrow? If that works for you?"

You nod. "Sure. I'm busy later tomorrow, but sometime during the day? When do you typically… eat?"

"Noon?" he suggests.

You nod again, grabbing your bag. "I can do that."

"Yeah, but they just didn't care about it."

Nayeon tips her glass back and forth on the table, chin resting in her other hand. "That's insane. Child-free means child-free; why would they be exempt?"

"Yeah, but what did Dahyun do?" you chime in to ask. "I get that she's too nice, but she had a wedding organizer, didn't she? Couldn't that person throw them out?"

Just before a drunk dude—trying to squeeze past your table and the queue of people waiting to order at the bar—elbows her beer, Momo throws her hand out to catch it. She mutters something you don't quite hear over the music and loud voices before she gathers her thoughts.

"I asked the same, but she apparently threatened to cause a scene, so Dahyun just let her be. But the organizer… encouraged her to look after her kids so they wouldn't ruin anything else."

"Jeez," Nayeon shakes her head. "I just do not understand. Get a babysitter or don't go?"

You're about to agree when you hear someone call your name. It's a man's voice, but not the one you've come to prefer.

It's Joshua, approaching your table, his sight set on you while simultaneously scanning the area as if searching for his friends. Momo and Nayeon barely register what's happening before he's standing before you, leaning his palms on the table.

"Yo, what the fuck was up with that guy?" Joshua questions, looking confused and frustrated more than angry.

"What do you mean? What guy?" you ask, entirely comfortable with playing dumb.

"The guy you were with? Who lifted a car with one hand?"

You lean back in your seat, feeling your friends' confused gazes on your face and trying to channel something similar, your forehead creasing. "Lifted a car? That's not possible. I don't know what you're trying to do, but it's not fun, can we please just move on?"

Tight-lipped, he stares at you, and it brings you immense satisfaction to know that he and his friends must realize that somehow, you were right. You found something, but you're not sharing.

"Dude, what are you even on?" Momo questions. "Leave before we call security. Preferably the town."

Joshua looks between you, and then scans the heads around him that he can see. But luckily, his friends don't seem to be close by, and there's not much he can do but shake his head in frustration and walk away.

Keeping your eyes on him, you turn in your chair, and right before he disappears behind another group of people, he looks back over his shoulder. Without Momo and Nayeon seeing, you drop the confused and slightly hurt look on your face and give him a small smile.

Scientists, the whole bunch of you, you know Jeongguk would have them frothing at the mouth the same way he has you, but you. are. not. sharing. At least not with them; if it were up to you, you'd definitely consider letting your own friends in on the secret.

Meeting Momo and Nayeon's very puzzled looks, you do feel bad for essentially lying to them. But it isn't your secret to share, and you made a promise not to.

"I just don't understand what their problem is," Nayeon questions, clearly upset. God, you're a lucky girl, having friends like yours. "If they say one more thing, I think you should tell Joon because he'll give them a piece of his mind, and a man's scolding might—unfortunately—be what they need."

"Or Yoongi," Momo adds. "Yoongi, when angry, is not fun."

You think about the black haired man with unimpressed, cat-like features. "I've never… I don't think I've ever seen Yoongi mad."

"He doesn't raise his voice or anything, he just…" Momo grimaces. "You know the creepy guy with mals?"

You shake your head slowly. Belgian Malinois seem to be the go-to dog breed for creepy guys. Either that or toy poodles.

"The white, bald guy? I think he's on steroids. He threatened Sana like, years ago, and Yoongi made him leave the clinic, like, tail between his legs, with one sentence and a look."

"Rings a bell," you nod, thinking back to when you first started at the clinic. "I guess it's not that surprising, actually? Yoongi is… I can't even describe him, but he works by vibe? He can have the same no-expression on his face, and you know exactly what mood he's in regardless."

"Yeah. And he's sweet. You should tell him. Or Joon."

You lean back. "I don't know. If they approach me again, I'll think about it, but I don't feel like they're dangerous. Mostly annoying at this point."

"Still, they need to know it's not acceptable," Momo says, lifting the beer to her lips.

"Yeah," you breathe in agreement. "What time is it?"

"Eleven, just about," Nayeon answers, looking at her phone.

"I should get going." You slap your thighs like an old man having been out too late.

"You have the day off tomorrow, though, don't you?"

"Yeah, but I'm spent," you lie. There's one cup of spit and one of venom in your fridge, and they're both calling your name. God, aren't you a special kind.

Nayeon narrows her eyes. "Are you seeing someone we don't know about?"

Just about to stand, you freeze. "Uh, no? Why?"

"Cause Joshua mentioned a guy. And you have been a little absent lately."

Fuck.

"Okay, well…. It's not what you think, okay?" you start, deciding on a smaller white lie. "You know the guy with the stray kittens?"

Momo's eyes widen comically. "Uh… yeah?"

"I'm not seeing him as in seeing him, but I've been helping him with the kittens off-hours. He's not really an animal guy—well, he seems to like animals, he just lacks experience—and I don't really feel great charging him when he's doing a good deed, raising them."

"Oh, that's nice." Nayeon nods.

"But you like him too?" Momo asks, watching your cheeks start to burn.

Fine, seems like you have to admit defeat to your friends—just like you did your mother—at least a bit.

"You saw him," you point out, stirring the melting remains of ice in your glass with the straw. "How could I not?"

Momo chuckles. "That's why I'm wondering. Does he happen to have any friends in town?"

Before you can help it, your eyes widen. "Yeah, he does. Saw an entire friend group with him like… three weeks ago; they're all gorgeous."

"Well, let us know if you see them again," Nayeon encourages, smirking.

You laugh, partially at your friends and partially nervously at what you might've just signed up for. Jeongguk told you his friends were vampires too; would you set your friends onto vampires?

Sure, Jeongguk's nice, but you don't know his friends, and the last thing you want is direct your friends onto someone's dinner plate.

"I will."

"Alright. So, if you're really going home and not to cat guy's, let us know when you've gotten back, okay? If we don't hear from you in twenty, we're calling the cops."

You roll your eyes, but nod. Luckily, they didn't ask whether 'cat guy' actually lifted a car or not.

Walking home from the bar usually takes you around 12 minutes, the perks of living in a small town, but tonight, the…. eyes you think you feel on you as soon as you venture off the lively street have you covering the distance in 8.

Maybe it's paranoia? After all, you started feeling watched only after you conveniently found out there could be an assailant slowly but surely approaching your neighborhood. Despite trying to stay calm, the breath you let out when you're finally able to close and lock your apartment door behind you is long.

Recalling your promise, you send Nayeon a quick text, confirming your safety. She sends a heart back.

The blue numbers on your oven tell you it's nearing midnight when you finally sit down at your kitchen table, the microscope and the sample cups—fresh from the fridge—in front of you. The first drop you let fall on a slide is of Jeongguk's saliva. Clear, more viscous than water, it looks very much like something you could've spit into the container.

If you expected a groundbreaking, scientific discovery there in your kitchen, you'd be disappointed. Besides a lot… cleaner, Jeongguk's saliva looks like that of a human. And by cleaner, you mean that there's a lot less bacteria floating around. You're not entirely sure why, maybe analyzing the fluid would reveal some sort of additional antibacterial aspect?

God, the crimes you'd commit to have your own lab, capable of analyzing your collection of vampire bodily fluids.

Repeating the process but with a drop of Jeongguk's venom, you make extra sure to handle it with care. After all, you don't know a lot about it, and although Jeongguk claimed it wasn't dangerous in smaller quantities, maybe it stings like hell if you touch it and it enters a microscopic wound?

While you've never looked at pure venom under a microscope before, you've witnessed the cellular aftermath of envenomation as part of your education. You've seen cell shapes entirely mangled by one kind of venom, and you've seen blood turned to jelly by another. Death, essentially, following a snake bite.

To both the naked eye and those seeing through a magnified lens, Jeongguk's venom and saliva look quite similar. Even ordinary; not a lot happening within the clear fluids.

You stare at it, wondering…

Three seconds later, you're rising from the kitchen chair, eager steps taking you into the hallway where you rummage through the upper drawer of your small dresser. It's the designated knick knack spot, most of the contents more or less stolen from work; pens, clips, box cutters, and notes, but also things that sales representatives leave with you, hoping your clinic will become a distributor.

Digging through teeny tiny bags of cat treats—you don't even have a cat—you find a wrapped alcohol swab and the little glucose monitor kit you remember receiving last year.

Unzipping the small black bag, you grab the spring-loaded pricker and a lancet and leave the rest haphazardly in the drawer while you make your way back into the kitchen, already wiping your left index finger clean.

Realizing you should've removed the slide first, you do so with your finger clumsily held in the air, and then you're pricking your skin above the glass. To gather enough blood, you squeeze your fingertip, and with a big enough red bead on your skin, you turn your finger upside down, letting it drip.

Even before you put the coverslip back on top and lock the slide back under the lens, you watch the fluids mix, and your blood dilute. Because you're a creature of (human) habit, you put the pricked fingertip into your mouth as you lean forward to peer through the oculars. Only to stop breathing.

One by one, Jeongguk's venom drowns your red blood cells. You watch in real time as cell after cell warps, the venom aggressively mangling their cell membrane and starting to dissolve them. It's inevitable; they can't escape.

You watch the wave of death for close to a minute, and when only a few cells remain alive, fighting for their life, you lean back in your chair, and you stare at your ceiling.

Despite making another mind-blowing discovery right there in your kitchen only that morning, you can't shake that this feels… different.

Bag packed to the brim, you make the now very familiar drive out to Jeongguk's house in a better, more easy going mood than you were in the night before. It must've been the… alcohol remnants and the discomfort of walking home alone. Right?

You're smiling excitedly even before the door to the large house opens, even more so when your vampire appears, ushering you through the small gap 'before the kids escape.' While he doesn't touch you, he's certainly not scared of being close, and before you know it, you're standing there in the small hallway again.

"Hey, Mina," you greet one of the 'kids' toeing around your feet. "And… Lilith, was it?" you nod toward the mother cat that appears from God knows where, stroking herself against Jeongguk's leg. He's wearing light wash jeans similar to those he wore yesterday, but this time, he's also—unfortunately—wearing a dark green t-shirt.

"Wait," you pause, wide eyes watching him. "You did not."

Jeongguk lifts his eyes to meet yours, a knowing grin pulling on his lips.

"'Lilith' as in the mother vampire? 'Mina' as in Dracula's wife, and 'Ruby' for blood red, I assume? Don't tell me 'Angel' is after the vampire in Buffy?"

He chuckles, bending down to pick up the little kitten, who's definitely not as little anymore. She meows and closes her eyes almost instantly, cozying up on Jeongguk's arm and against his chest.

"What about… 'Nyx,' was it?"

"'Nyx' is the Goddess of the night," he informs, reaching his unoccupied hand out to take your bag the moment you set it down to take your shoes off.

"Went right over my head."

You think back to that night, when he stood beside you, holding onto that chilly metal railing outside the bar and telling you the kittens' names.

"I know you probably didn't plan on showing me like that, but were you planning to? At all?"

With your shoes neatly to the side, you straighten up and take a step toward him, intending on following him into the house. But he doesn't move, just watches you with your bag in one hand and the satisfied kitten on his other arm.

"I wanted to, but I'm not entirely sure I would've, had I not done it then. I definitely wasn't supposed to, so… naming them like that made me feel like I was at least giving you a little hint. Maybe even testing the waters a bit."

He tilts his head slightly, looking down at you before he seemingly remembers what you were supposed to do. "Anyway…"

Sight set on the kitchen, he leads. You follow, looking around even though nothing's changed since last time.

"So, about the house… Was it really passed down?"

"No," he shakes his head, putting the black kitten down on the kitchen counter and turning to you. "I bought it in… uh, sometime during the first half of the 19th century, I think. Tried to keep up with all the trends for my estates but gave up after a while. If I actually live somewhere, I'll have it up to standard, but like this, when I'm just visiting?"

"It was furnished like this already?"

"Yeah. I had the running water and electricity installed later on. Was quite the pain in the ass to be honest."

"It's a cool house, though," you compliment, once again peering around the light kitchen. "A bit like a museum. Can't believe you're so old, honestly, like you lived when this was trendy?"

Jeongguk inhales sharply, blinking dramatically in an offense you know he doesn't feel. It makes you laugh.

"Anyway," he repeats his earlier segue, putting your bag down on the floor and reaching for the fridge handle. You watch as he grabs a jug of already mixed blood, putting it on the counter with a soft thud.

"You only wanted blood from after I've eaten, right? Not before?"

Nodding, you can't believe the situation you're in. "Yeah. Thank you."

For a short while, silence settles. It's far from uncomfortable, and you're very busy, watching Jeongguk prepare the blood. First, he pours a big glass of it, plucking a spoon from a drawer to stir it. Of course, your gaze is torn between the way his big, veiny hands hold onto that fragile-looking glass and how his muscles dance discreetly under his skin as he stirs.

Putting the spoon down on the counter, he places the glass in the microwave, presses start, and then turns to you.

"Can I ask why you're visiting?" you take the opportunity to ask as the microwave hums lowly and the glass rotates inside it.

"You can ask," he smirks, leaning back against the counter. "But I can only tell you that it's for work."

"Work?" Eyebrows knitted together, you stare at him. "Like… vampire work?"

"Yeah."

But what kind of work would be deemed 'vampire work?'

"You don't like… work for the Volturi, right?"

"The what? Volturi?"

"Yeah, the vampire…. governing body—I guess—in Twilight. They keep the vampire citizens in check; make sure they don't hunt humans to extinction or expose themselves to them. Or, like, turn babies into vampires."

"Oh. No, not really."

"Good, 'cause you would've probably have broken a lot more rules than you actually did for telling me. And I would be in more shit for knowing."

…Which reminds you…

"Also, uhm…"

Jeongguk raises a dark eyebrow, curious as to what's suddenly gotten you apologetic.

"My classmates… They might approach you if they see you. Just to let you know. Sorry."

"They've been giving you any trouble after what I did?" he asks, voice turning serious.

You sigh. "No, not really. One approached me and asked about you, but he was more… frustrated and shocked than angry, I think. But I mean, what you did is not something a human just does."

A smile pulls on Jeongguk's lips. "I know. That was the point."

The microwave beeps behind him, indicating that his blood has reached his preferred temperature. The body temperature of a human. He turns, opening the door and taking the glass out.

At least relieved that he doesn't seem bothered, you let your shoulders relax a little. "Yeah, I know. I'm just warning you."

"I appreciate it," he says, retrieving the spoon from the counter to stir the red liquid again. "You don't need to worry about me, though."

Eyes again appreciating his hands and arms as he stirs, you can't let go quite yet. "I mean clearly you'd be able to defend yourself if they for some reason wanted to fight, but I'm mostly thinking whether them knowing and stirring up shit does cause you trouble."

"They didn't strike me as people who would tell. And who would believe them?"

"True." After all, you said the same thing.

"And if it comes to it, I can be pretty persuasive."

The tiny smirk he shoots your way has your skin heating, but yet another thought growing.

"You haven't seen The Vampire Diaries, either, have you?"

"No. Is that another movie?"

"A series."

He looks between you and the glass he holds up. "So, I drink this now? Just so you know, I'll get progressively sleepier in a few minutes."

You nod, the Vampire Diaries connection forgotten as a different memory resurfaces and a subsequent realization hits. "Wait, so… were you like dead asleep right after I left when I asked you to drink blood that first time?"

He smiles, putting the glass to his mouth for a first sip. "Yeah. It was pretty fitting that you left, actually. I can stay awake, but it's hard."

You don't quite notice how your smile grows until he asks you about it, wiping his mouth. "What's so funny?"

Watching him gulp down more of the contents, your eyes struggle to stray from his Adam's apple and how it moves with every swallow. "Not funny. I just find that… insanely adorable? What do you mean you eat and then you actually struggle to stay awake? How is that a good evolutionary trait when we don't have to?"

'We' as in 'you.'

Humans.

"Don't make me regret telling you about it," he says, giving you a warning eye and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand again. "Biologically, if I had… hunted for this," he lifts the mostly empty glass, coated in red, "then I wouldn't feel tired until the adrenaline wears off. Since I microwaved this, and I'm chilling in my own house, it hits sooner."

"Sorry. That's kinda cool actually."

He gives you a sweet look that tells you you're forgiven, and then he puts the empty glass down on the counter. "We can sit on the bed."

When he points to the bag you placed on the floor earlier, eyebrows raised in a silent question, you nod. "Yeah, I'll need that."

Before even giving you the chance to, he grabs the handles of your blue backpack, already heading toward the hall and the stairs. You follow closely behind, seeing two kittens play at the bottom of the stairs.

"You're so modern," you comment as you climb the stairs behind him. "Like, I would imagine it's hard to keep up with the ever-changing trends, and so I wouldn't blame you for not even trying? But you speak so normally, and you dress like that?"

"Like what?" you hear him chuckle.

"Like every other modern guy. Not that you're basic or anything, just that nothing about you screams ancient."

You hear the amusement in his voice as he turns to you at the top of the stairs. "I'll take that as a compliment."

"You should," you say, looking up at him as you come to stand before him. It's true, what you said, and while natural, non-altered facial structures don't change much with society, you could never tell by his face either. In a way, he's got a very classic beauty to him. At least according to you, but you don't say that, of course.

"Thank you, then. It's definitely something you learn; going with the flow of society. But it's also harder these days when trends evolve and cycle much faster than before. You used to get 20 years to adapt to big societal changes and now you barely get five. Some trends are dead and buried within six months."

You haven't been in his bedroom since it was covered in a thick layer of dust. Like the rest of the house, it's clean now. He doesn't seem to have a lot of stuff, but the bed is made with white fluffy sheets, a thick, golden bedspread over them and a big, black towel folded at the foot of it.

"Make yourself comfortable," he says, gesturing toward the bed as he puts the backpack down on the floor. "When do you want to take the blood?" he asks, grabbing the towel and unfolding it to drape over the bed.

Noticing your silence, he peers back at you.

"Uh… preferably in an hour and then an hour after that…"

"But…?" he asks, sensing your slight hesitancy.

"But there's something I'd like to do in the meantime."

You can't help it, the slightly sheepish smile that pulls on your lips. Or the heat you feel rise but desperately hope he can't see.

"You look like it's something you're afraid I won't like?"

"I don't know. I mean, I hope you'll be okay with it, and after last time, I think so?"

"Well, what is it?"

His dark eyes are curious and entertained like always, and you most definitely suspect he knows what's going on in your head.

"So when you lifted the car… using one hand, might I add, it made me curious about your back. A human would've probably herniated at least three discs and snapped their spine if they were able to even lift it like that. I figure that everything's probably just… stronger like the anatomy of your arm…"

"…But you'd like to see?"

Essentially asking to feel him up again, you bite your lip and nod once. "Yeah."

Instead of teasing you about it, Jeongguk unceremoniously grabs the shirt at the back of his neck and yanks it over his head, tossing it onto the foot of the bed. Taking the action as consent, you crouch in front of your backpack, excitedly rummaging through it for two things. Well, four things: your small notebook and a pen that you clip to the collar of your t-shirt included.

Sitting down on the edge of his bed—on its right side—Jeongguk looks back at you, his gaze falling to the thick books in your hands.

"Went to the library," you explain, placing them on the bed, next to his discarded shirt.

He cranes his neck to read the titles. One is just a huge book on human anatomy, and the other is slightly thinner and focused on sports medicine.

"Thought you knew everything?"

"I'm a veterinarian. I'd say I know a lot about humans, but far from everything."

A silence settles as you climb onto the bed, positioning yourself behind him and the books at your side for easy access. Jeongguk keeps his head sideways, calmly and quietly watching you open the thicker book on the right chapter, inspecting the sketched human back and its muscles.

Lifting your own gaze from the pages, you take in the sight of his broad, naked back in front of you.

"Okay, so I can…?" you ask, hand hovering over his skin.

He nods, turning his head forward and rolling his shoulders once. Slightly wide-eyed, you stare at the casual display of his muscles. God damn.

Shaking any non-scientific thought out of your head, you begin.

The first thing you do is let your fingers trace his spine as you search for the landmarks. Despite having a very, very low body fat percentage, Jeongguk's vertebrae are less prominent than you'd expected. You can still feel them, however, and soon enough, you have your fingertips on C7, the more prominent vertebra located at the bottom of the neck.

"I can barely feel your spine," you mumble, mostly to yourself.

Is there something other than fat almost… covering them? Can't be anything besides the connective ligaments, you think to yourself. In that case, they're a lot thicker and stronger than in a human. Unless it's muscle that's covering them? Or… maybe his vertebrae have a different design? Maybe they're smoother? Forehead creasing, you consider the shapes possible for vertebrae still able to connect and allow the spine to bend.

You grab the pen from your neckline, keeping your left hand on Jeongguk's back while your right scribble some quick notes in your notebook.

'Vertebrae non-prominent, covered by? muscle/ligaments? different structures?'

Moving on, you leave the pen on the notebook and instead put your right index finger on the drawing. Your left one copies the movement of your right as you trail it down toward the middle of Jeongguk's back.

Latissimus Dorsi. It's one of the muscles at risk of damage from a too-heavy one-handed lift like what you saw Jeongguk perform. Of course, you don't know whether the action impacted him at all; maybe he sustained micro tears? Doesn't make the feat any less impressive.

Using both hands, you trace the muscle where it connects to the spine, all the way from his mid back to the lower part of it.

"Do you usually lift heavy like that?"

As if he wasn't paying that much attention—or just not expecting to be spoken to—he takes a second or two to find his voice. And when he does, you feel your heart squeeze almost pathetically at how he already sounds a little sleepy.

"Yeah. I don't really need to work out to keep my muscles all that much, I just do stuff because it's fun."

"Oh? if my memory serves me right, a human needs to work out a muscle at least within two weeks or it'll start to atrophy to save energy. Muscles are really metabolically expensive to keep."

He straightens up a little. "I could go longer than that, I think. I usually do kinda workout more often than that though."

"Interesting," you remove your hands altogether to note down his words. "And does lifting heavy come with any kind of pain? Soreness?"

"Only if I strain myself, but that happens very rarely. Not when I lifted the car for example."

You nod, more so to yourself. "Okay. So you probably do get micro tears. How long does the soreness typically last?"

"A few hours at most."

"Really? A human will usually be sore for days."

"Yeah. Losers."

A bubbling laughter escapes you, but afterward, another bout of silence settles.

Jeongguk's breaths are slow and deep, and you feel every one of them under your hands as you move them over his back. He yawns.

"Do you need me… conscious?" he asks, repeating the same words from the clinic and glancing at you from over his shoulder. His barely-open eyes and sleepy words pull on your heartstrings. Not only because he's endearing and adorable, but because he's seemingly so comfortable with you. As established, you for sure don't pose a threat to him, but still…

"I mean, I don't mind, but… I guess if you're okay with it…?"

You move when he does, scooting back to give him enough space as he sighs deeply and lies down on his stomach. He's already closing his eyes.

"Go to town," he mumbles.

"You really trust me that much?" you ask, putting your hand on his lower back, feeling the thoracolumbar fascia that connects the latissimus dorsi to the spine. "What if I hurt you?"

"It's pretty hard to hurt me, and I never got the impression that you'd try."

That's definitely true, and you're glad he feels that. While the biggest risk of trusting you has never been bodily harm but exploitation for your scientific research—maybe even fame—you've never had any interest in that.

"I could be a vampire hunter, waiting for the chance to stake you?"

Without even opening his eyes, Jeongguk chuckles. "What a way to go, then. First massaged by a pretty woman and then staked in my sleep. Couldn't complain."

Head and heart soaring in the clouds—and cheeks warm—you can't do anything but flick his skin. He laughs, but it's even more sleepy now.

"Insane," you mumble, reaching for the books again. While you adjust, sitting cross-legged with the anatomy book open in your lap—this time your left hand on the sketch and your right on Jeongguk's skin—he falls asleep.

Once again, you have a gorgeous, huge, superhuman man unconscious under your hands, and you'd be a fool not to take advantage of the situation. Not that you're doing anything he'd object to if awake but feeling his body is easier when you don't have to worry about any kind of tension growing.

Fingers softly tracing the skin and then pressing just a tad harder, feeling the structures underneath, you note that… there's not a lot to note. Besides the vertebrae not being as easily felt, the rest of him feels as expected. His muscles are thick and well-developed, and the ligaments feel stronger and sturdier, just like the ones you managed to ultrasound in his arm. So no surprise there.

It's been roughly ten minutes since you think Jeongguk fell asleep when you feel something. You've got your right hand on his upper back, curiously inspecting his scapula and the trapezius muscle that stretches up toward his neck when there's… a grumbling? It has you pausing, wondering if maybe he said something. But a quick glance at his face confirms that he's still asleep, cheek resting heavily against a pillow.

He must've mumbled in his sleep or something, which… cute.

You resume, hand sliding down his spine and to his side, when you feel it again. But this time, it's not a quick ordeal; it's… longer. The sound is low, starting deep in his chest and reverberating up and through your hand. It's almost soundless, just a low, low sound in the otherwise silent room.

Your heart does what you can only describe as a backflip because it reminds you an awful lot of… purring.

It's been almost an hour when the purring stops. You have your hand on his lower side, toward the back, flipping pages with the other.

"Find anything fun?" a low, raspy voice asks you.

You look up to see that Jeongguk is watching you, his eyes warm but sleepy.

"Uhm, yeah," you state, abandoning the current page search and returning to another. "This," you say, moving your right hand to his upper side, where you run it back and forth, "seems to be an…"

You lift the book to read the small insert aloud. "'Axillary arch.' Which is a muscle… variation. Sometimes considered vestigial. Humans can still have it, but it seems like only around five percent of people do. And not only do you have it, but it seems to be super well developed. Turn over, please?"

No questions asked, Jeongguk rolls over slowly, looking up at you where he now lies on his back. With your eyes buried in the book, you reach for his arm that's closest to you, making it clear you want him to lift it. He does, obediently placing his hand above his head, waiting for whatever you're going to do.

"Okay, so it's a variation of the latissimus dorsi, which is this muscle on your back that reaches up here, " you explain, tracing his side. "But the axillary arch is when it branches off over here, connecting to the pectorals."

You look at your hand as it glides over his warm, taut skin, close to his armpit, feeling for the attachments. "It says here that many think it's useless, but that some suggest that it brings strength but also a more advanced shoulder proprioception."

"And what would that mean?"

"Well, if it does what they suggest, it essentially gives you almost a sixth sense when it comes to body control. Helps your body know how to move appropriately, at least your upper body and arms, and just how much force to use. My guess would be that it's actually very useful when you're so much stronger."

"Hm."

You continue. "Considering a low percentage of humans have it too, it could be another 'you' thing more than a vampire thing, though. I assume you don't know whether others like you have it too?"

"No."

"Alright," you smile at him. "It's very cool, though. Can't believe I missed it."

"When did you miss it?"

"Last time at the clinic? I was feeling your lymph nodes in your armpit."

"Oh yeah." He grins widely

You narrow your eyes as it hits you. The sound you heard when you felt for the nodes… was him letting out a little breath of laughter? "You were awake, weren't you?"

"Yeah."

You just shake your head, putting the book down. "Anyway, would it be alright to draw some blood?"

"Sure."

You get off the bed, digging through the bag for the supplies before you get back on the covers.

"Sit up, please?"

He does, leaning back against the wooden headboard and holding that veiny arm out for you. You position it how you want it, not thinking too much about how you inevitably place his warm hand to rest on your upper thigh, palm up. Drawing blood while sitting on a bed is understandably a first for you.

"You know you don't really have to do that. Or use gloves," he mentions when you wipe his skin with an antiseptic wipe.

You pause, thinking it through before deciding. "Don't wanna take any risks," you mumble.

Focused, you use the same kind of needle as last time, pushing it into his vein. It goes smoother this time around since you already know how much pressure to use. The whole process is smoother, relatively quick, and… silent.

Every glance at Jeongguk's face as he watches your hands tells you that he's dozing off again. It's such an endearing yet… surprising sight; the big, buff, half-naked vampire sitting up and his eyes getting heavier by the second. You don't tease him for it, honestly still flattered that he lets you see him like this.

"Okay, I'm done," you speak quietly. "Do you want me to leave it in or take it out and re-stick later?"

He opens his eyes half way, glancing tiredly at you. "It's up to you. I don't mind either way."

"Okay, hold on," you say, putting some gauze against his skin as you pull the needle out. Of course, it's more out of habit than need because the puncture wound doesn't bleed; it's barely a wound at all. "You can lie down."

He doesn't answer, just shifts to lie back down. Tired, he blinks heavily, and you can basically see him slowly fall asleep again.

With the anatomy book open on the muscles on the front of the human body, you trace his slow-moving chest lightly. To your delight, the… purring starts again.

Your touch is soft as usual when you trace his collarbones, making mental notes of the thickness and hardness of them, his sternum and the dip between his pectoral muscles, and the visible parts of his obliques and where they attach to his ribcage. His chest moves slowly and rhythmically under your hand, and his skin is invitingly warm. You'd write down your discoveries, but there aren't really any more.

Ten minutes later, you have indeed somewhat securely ruled out any big differences. You've even counted his ribs, and somewhere, between the slow, deep breaths of the vampire next to you, and the fact that you didn't sleep that well last night, the sleep bug bites you to.

Your tired eyes glance around the room. It's quiet and calm, and Jeongguk's bed is very spacious.

Would he mind? You don't think so.

Slowly and carefully, you lie down, leaving a good amount of space between you. The low sound coming from him—the purring—is so incredibly relaxing, even if you're too far away to feel it.

Unfortunately, you wake up to movement. Movement moving you.

Big, warm, strong arms are dragging you across the bed by your waist and torso, pulling your back flush against him. Despite waking up only half a second ago, your eyes are already open and they widen further when you feel Jeongguk's mouth in your hair. He draws a big breath, alarm bells sounding in your head as you're reminded of how he used your smell to trigger his fangs.

By pure instinct, you try to wiggle out of his grasp, but your arms are stuck, held tightly against your body, and panic starts to rise when you can't move.

He has to let you go; you can't overpower him.

Your heart beats so hard it hurts when he pulls you even closer, his mouth lowering, as if searching for something. You can barely move a muscle in his hold.

"Jeongguk?" you call desperately.

And just like that, he relaxes. Quick to sit up and carefully move toward the other end of the bed, you watch him. Eyes closed, lying on his side and breathing slowly and calmly, he's still asleep. God, you nearly shit yourself. Are you worried for your safety around him? Not necessarily, but him seemingly grabbing you in his sleep?

Smelling you and perhaps even searching for your neck?

A shiver racks your body.

Jeongguk continues to sleep soundly and unfazed for another twenty minutes, all while your racing heart slowly quiets down to normal again. Flipping through the books in your lap, you find yourself grateful that he didn't wake up because… he still let you go and maybe it would've also made it awkward? Whatever you and Jeongguk are, cuddle buddies aren't quite it.

Another reason for your gratitude is the vision the current situation grants you. Not that of Jeongguk asleep and shirtless—well, that too—but 15 minutes before he wakes up for the second time, someone enters the room. You don't hear the little paws; you only notice when the little kitten has climbed the bed and is in the process of climbing Jeongguk.

You can't tear your eyes away. You think it's… Nyx? who appears on his back, sight set on the little curve at the back of Jeongguk's neck. The kittens must be around five weeks old at this point, meaning they get around pretty efficiently but have yet to acquire the feline elegance someone like their mom possesses.

Jeongguk doesn't stir the slightest as the kitten gives off a tiny meow and curls up at the back of his neck, even tucking its paws in under itself.

And to make it worse, she's not the only one. Within a span of minutes, two more come padding, one using its claws to climb up Jeongguk's jeans, settling comfortably in the curve of his lower back. The other—Mina—finds her way to his front, squeezing in under his thick arm and curling up in the small space between his bicep and his chin.

Whatever you've claimed before, this is the cutest thing you've ever seen in your entire life. If you listen closely, you can hear at least two of the kittens purring.

Smiling to yourself, you turn the page to read about meniscus tears.

You're halfway through the section when movement catches your attention, and you lift your gaze from the text. Jeongguk is waking up, slowly opening his eyes and shifting.

"They're very comfortable with you, dad," you muse.

Jeongguk gives you a sleepy grin.

"Cats also like warm things," you continue.

"Yeah, I've noticed," he says, repeating what he told you the first time you informed him of the feline trait. You wonder if he was already referring to the kittens and their mother's desire to cuddle him? "If I don't have the fire going, they always come and find me," he says, taking a deep breath.

You can't do anything but observe, almost inclined to ask whether you can take a picture. "This is for sure the cutest thing I've ever seen."

Jeongguk lets out a lazy chuckle before reminding you of something. "Did you want more blood?"

"Oh. Yeah, if you're willing to give it?" You glance at your watch. "I'll need to leave soon."

He glances at you curiously. "Late shift at the clinic?"

"No," you shake your head. "Or, well, it depends. The Bar is having a Halloween night, and I promised Nayeon and Momo I'd come. But I'm also on call tonight, and this time of year, we see a lot of horses colicking and canine poisonings."

"Huh? Why is that?"

"Rapid temperature drops often make horses drink a lot less water, leading to blockages, essentially. And Halloween means candy everywhere and a larger risk of dogs getting into it."

"Ah. Sucks. I heard about the Halloween event. Tae wanted to go."

"Dress up and everything?" you question, wide-eyed.

You enjoy social get-togethers just as much as the next person, and you for sure like everything Halloween; it's just the overhanging anxiety regarding the mix of you, halloween themes, and the public.

"Yeah? Just because we're old doesn't mean we're boring. I can be a party guy if I want to."

"So you're going? Dressed as what?"

"You'll have to wait and see. What are you going as?"

"You think I'll tell you if you're not telling me?"

"I guess not. Do I have to sit up? For the blood?"

"Preferably, unfortunately," you smile sadly, looking at the kittens, all so comfortable.

Incredibly endeared, you watch Jeongguk reach behind him, gently grasping the black kitten sleeping deeply and satisfied on his warm skin. She wakes up, letting out a sad meow as she's being airlifted off Jeongguk by his large hand.

"Of course it was you," he mumbles when the kitten comes into view. "This one would crawl inside my skin if she could."

He puts her down on the bedspread, and she immediately bolts back to him, entirely intending on reclaiming her spot or at least one against his skin. Not like you can blame her. The other two—one under his arm and the other still on his lower back—move on their own when their heater slowly starts to sit up.

It's mostly that first one, stubbornly wanting to warm herself against him.

"No," he scolds gently, moving her away so that he can sit up without her accidentally getting in the way.

The moment he's upright and seated against the headboard, however, she uses her claws to climb up his jeans. He doesn't intervene until she's climbed her way up to the waistband of his pants and the visible band of his underwear, obviously having her sight set on warmth.

"No, you can't go in there," he chuckles, lifting her off a second before she digs her way in between his jeans and underwear.

"Do they sleep in here too?" you wonder, watching the little kitten fight for her rights.

"Yeah, most of the time. I prefer to sleep in a slightly… cooler environment, but if I don't have the fire burning, then they find me. I tried closing the door once—for their safety because what if I crush them in my sleep?—but that was a mistake because Lilith was just screaming at me to open the door."

You don't bring up that he almost accidentally murdered you in his sleep only half an hour ago. Okay, that's an over exaggeration but who knows what could've happened?

Still, it wasn't intentional, and he's clearly concerned about accidentally hurting others. Well, his kittens, but you feel like you belong in that category too; someone pathetically weak compared to him, easily injured, and who gravitates toward him. You definitely also like warm things.

Retrieving the equipment needed for yet another blood draw, you move closer to him. This time, you don't use gloves, but as he offers you his arm, you still clean his skin and your hands with antibacterial wipes.

"This doesn't hurt you?" you ask as you push the needle through his skin, out of the corner of your eye seeing him pet the kitten, who's settled on his thigh.

"No. I mean, I can feel it, and it's not nice, but it doesn't really hurt."

"That's good, makes me feel better for poking you so much."

"It's fine," he smiles, eyes on the little kitten as another approaches. "Have you… looked at it? Under microscope or whatever it was that you wanted to do?"

Fastening the needle with some tape, you reach for the first out of three vials.

"Yeah. Do you want to know what I found? Unless you already know the differences?"

"I think that we have smaller… cells? And more iron? At least that's what I remember."

"Yeah," you confirm, watching the blood start to fill the vial. It's just as dark as the samples sitting in your freezer. "Your red blood cells are smaller than mine, and so there's room for a lot more, even considering they're already packed, hence the darker color. Combined, they have a bigger surface area and can bind more oxygen, which I'm sure contributes to your strength. Your muscles get more blood due to the size of your veins, and your blood carrying loads more oxygen than a human man's would."

"Interesting."

"Yeah. Funny enough, goats have a similar… set up."

Amused, Jeongguk raises his eyebrows. "Goats?"

"Yeah. They're built to thrive at higher altitudes where oxygen is scarcer and one needs to be oxygen-efficient."

"That's cool."

"Yeah, I think so to. I haven't been able to analyze it at the lab yet, though." Removing the full vial, you attach the second. "And your saliva looks very similar to a human's, only less… bacterial. So I'm guessing there's something antibacterial in there that kills off bacteria. Which could make sense from an evolutionary standpoint if you're supposed to drink from the same human on different occasions. A dirty mouth would lead to more infections and human deaths."

"I think I heard something about that too, actually."

You blink, pretending to be offended. "You know these things but don't tell me?"

He smirks lazily. "I mean, what fun is that? Besides, I mostly remember them because you're bringing them up. I learned whatever I know so long ago, and it's knowledge I don't really need in my day-to-day life."

"I guess you're forgiven."

He chuckles. "You can't say you don't prefer getting to see and discover for yourself?"

You think about it, and sure, maybe you do. "Fine. But what if I miss things? I can't possibly go over every single part of your biology in a few weeks."

"You can try? And what about my venom?"

"You're stressing me out, Jeongguk," you admit, anxiety rising at the thought of having to explore without any help at all. "And your venom just looks a lot like your saliva, but seemingly behaves pretty similarly to some types of snake venom. I did—"

A loud meow interrupts you as the two exploring kittens seemingly get into a fight. They scream and hiss at each other in a way that's surprising for such young kittens. But before you know it, it's over.

"You're calm," Jeongguk pets the kitten on his lap. "You're a good girl."

"How do you know it's a she?" you nod toward the kitten without respect for personal boundaries.

"I can smell the difference."

"You can?"

He hums.

Seeing that also the last vial is approaching fullness, you prepare to remove it. "Since the start?"

"Yeah."

"So your names weren't based on vibes at all?"

He grins, watching you once again detach the vial and use a wad of gauze to pull the needle out. No blood this time around either.

"No. Or I mean, yeah; vampire vibes."

You roll your eyes, curiosity still spiking.

"I haven't asked that much about your senses besides your vision… But your sense of smell is good then, I take it?"

"Yeah."

"Like that of a dog? Do I need to take an extra shower before meeting you? An additional layer of deodorant?"

He laughs quietly. "I don't know if it's as advanced as a dog's. Maybe slightly less? But you don't need to worry; you always smell really nice."

Well, you definitely hope he's not lying—and he didn't seem to mind smelling you in his sleep—but also, you'll definitely make sure to always be extra clean when meeting him.

"You're much more polite than I imagined a vampire to be. I'm done now, thank you," you say, grabbing the vials and the discarded material having gathered on the bedspread.

"It's true though. You smell really pleasant. Very womanly."

You raise your eyebrows as you stand from the bed, packing everything away inside your backpack. "I guess I'll take that as a compliment?"

"You should because it is."

In the middle of feeling your cheeks heat just a tad, you're suddenly reminded of something. You straighten up, watching him where he remains sitting on his bed, stroking the kitten's back as the two others explore the bed.

"I know that I have… maybe a below average sense of smell for a human—possibly an advantage with my job—but you don't… smell much to me."

If you weren't so panicked when he grabbed you, you for sure would've jumped at the opportunity to see what he smells like.

"Can you smell another human? If they're not wearing perfume or have been out, sweating for hours?"

"…No."

"Right. Humans generally aren't able to. Up close, skin to skin, sure but not really from a distance. Vampires communicate more by scent than humans do."

"So you don't wear perfumes?"

"No. I don't like perfumes. Mildly scented soaps and stuff are alright, but not perfumes. A few vampires wear them, but they're the bane of my existence. For example, I would rather you show up here smelling of organic cow shit than… Victoria's Secret."

You chuckle. "Good to know."

<previous | next>

The thing about Spider-Man is that he reminds you too much of a certain freshman.

A freshman named Jeon Jungkook who keeps hovering around the journalism building with his messy hair and his wide eyes and his endless supply of convenience store snacks.

You've been telling yourself it's just a coincidence. The way Spider-Man's voice cracks on 'noona' exactly like Jungkook's does. The way they both bring you the same snacks, have the same nervous energy, the same tendency to ramble when they're flustered. It's just a coincidence, because the alternative means admitting something you're absolutely not ready to deal with.

Maybe that's why you're hiding in August Coffee, your usual spot tucked away in one of Sinchon's winding side streets.

The late autumn breeze carries the scent of roasted coffee beans through the open window, and your laptop screen glows with half-finished articles and interview transcripts. Your notebook lies open beside a rapidly cooling americano while the café's jazz playlist provides a gentle backdrop to your furious typing. You're on a deadline for tomorrow's paper, and the last thing you need is—

A flash of red and blue swings past the window.

You pretend not to notice. Maybe if you focus hard enough on your screen, he'll take the hint and—

"Noona!"

—of course he doesn't.

There he is, hanging upside down outside the second-floor window, the eyes of his mask wide and eager. A plastic convenience store bag dangles from his hand, swaying in the autumn wind. Several patrons are already pulling out their phones, and you can feel your carefully cultivated productivity slipping away.

"No," you say firmly, not looking up from your laptop.

"But noona—" His voice cracks on the honorific, and you absolutely refuse to find it endearing. "I haven't even said anything yet!"

"I'm working." You take a pointed sip of your americano, grimacing when you realize it's gone cold. Perfect. "Some of us have actual responsibilities, Spider-Boy."

"I brought you snacks!" He awkwardly maneuvers through the window—you're not sure if the owner keeps it open for him specifically or if he's just that persistent. "You know, the ones you like with the matcha filling? The new ones from that fancy Japanese brand?"

You pause, fingers hovering over your keyboard. "How do you know I like the ones with matcha filling?"

"Uh—" Even through the mask, you can tell he's flustered. His hands fidget with the plastic bag. "Lucky guess? Not that I know you, noona. Uh, I mean, you look like a noona. Not that I know for a fact you're a noona—"

"Stop talking." You pinch the bridge of your nose, painfully aware of the phones still recording this interaction. This will definitely end up on some university Instagram page later. Again. "You're making it worse."

He deflates slightly, shoulders hunching in that familiar way that reminds you too much of a certain someone who keeps "accidentally" running into you at the journalism building. The same one who somehow always knows your coffee order and brings you snacks you oh so casually mention fancying—

No. You're not going there. You're not connecting those dots, because connecting those dots leads to complications you absolutely don't need in your final year.

"I can leave if you want," he offers, but he's already approaching, placing the snacks on your table with careful precision. "But you've been here for four hours, and you always forget to eat when you're working on a big story."

You stare at him. "How do you know how long I've been here?"

"I, uh—" His mask's eyes widen comically. "Spider-sense?"

"That's not how spider-sense works."

"You don't know how my spider-sense works! Maybe it's... hungry-noona-sense?"

A laugh escapes before you can stop it, and you quickly cover it with a cough. "That's the worst excuse you've come up with yet."

"Yet!" He perks up. "So you're keeping track?"

"Go away." You open the snack bag anyway, pretending not to notice how he straightens up eagerly when you do. "Don't you have a city to protect or something?"

"Seoul can handle itself for ten minutes while I make sure my favorite n—while I make sure hardworking journalists eat properly."

You raise an eyebrow at the slip, and he fidgets under your gaze. "Your favorite what?"

"Nothing! No one! Just, you know, doing my friendly neighborhood Spider-Man duties. Very friendly. Very neighborly. Nothing specific or personal about it at all."

You bite into one of the matcha-filled snacks—they're fresh, which means he must have bought them recently. Specifically for you. Just like how a certain freshman keeps bringing you fresh triangle kimbap from the convenience store near your morning lecture hall...

No. Stop it. You're not doing this.

"Sit down," you sigh, pushing the chair across from you out with your foot. "And stay quiet, or I’ll kick you out."

He practically collapses into the chair, bag already placed on the table. You notice his hands shaking slightly, and something in your chest tightens.

You shouldn't find it endearing. You really, really shouldn't.

But then again, you probably shouldn't find anything about this situation endearing — a masked vigilante bringing you sweets in the middle of your favorite cafe, stammering through excuses that sound exactly like the ones Jungkook uses when you catch him "accidentally" walking the same way as you after class.

You really need to stop noticing these things.

You try to refocus on your notes after that, but it's hard—mostly because Spider-Man is still sitting there. Quietly. Staring.

And not in a "just glancing around the cafe" kind of way, either. No, he's full-on watching you, eyes darting between the scribbles in your notebook, the crumbs on your plate, and, worst of all, your face. Like you're the most fascinating thing in the world. Like he's never seen someone drink a mediocre americano and type furiously into Google Docs before.

It goes on for five minutes. Five full, agonizing minutes of silence, punctuated only by the occasional click of your keyboard and the muted sounds of espresso machines in the background.

Finally, you sigh, your fingers pausing mid-typing. "Don't you have better stuff to do?"

"No." The response is immediate. Too immediate. His tone is absurdly casual, like the very idea that Spider-Man—the literal defender of Seoul—could have anything more important than sitting in August Coffee and bothering you is completely ridiculous.

You raise a brow, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. "No supervillains to fight? No cats stuck in trees? Nothing?"

"Nope," he says, popping the 'p' for emphasis. "Pretty quiet day."

You shake your head and turn your attention back to your laptop. "Must be nice."

There's a pause. You can feel him shifting in his seat, the chair creaking slightly under his weight, and when he speaks again, his voice is just shy of hesitant.

"How are the pastries? Do you like them?"

Your fingers freeze over your keyboard. Slowly, you turn to face him again, narrowing your eyes.

"You didn't spit in them, did you?"

"Wha—no!" he sputters, his whole posture stiffening in obvious horror. "Why—why would I—noona, I would never spit in your pastries!"

You let him sweat for a second longer, just to amuse yourself, before breaking into a small, satisfied smirk.

"Relax, Spider-Boy. I'm kidding." You reach for the bag of snacks he brought. "Yeah, they're good. Wanna try?"

His eyes widen a little—well, as much as they can through that mask—and he seems to hesitate, like he's not sure if you're serious or trying to bait him again. You wave one of the pastries in his direction. He glances at it, then back at you, before finally nodding.

"Okay. Yeah, sure."

You watch as he carefully rolls his mask up just to his nose, revealing his mouth for the first time. You don't know what you expected, but… it's a good mouth. Maybe annoyingly good, given how little you want to admit that very obvious fact to yourself. Full lips, slightly pink, with just the faintest hint of nervousness as he bites at his bottom lip before leaning forward.

He takes a bite of the pastry you're holding out to him, and the pleased groan he lets out immediately makes you regret offering him anything at all.

"God, that's delicious," he mumbles around his mouthful, crumbs falling onto his suit. He barely finishes chewing before continuing. "Now I know why you like them so much. I mean—why people say they're so good. Not you specifically. Just, you know, people."

You snort, shaking your head as you turn back to your laptop. "You're a terrible liar."

"And you're a terrible bossy noona," he mutters, mostly to himself, stuffing the rest of the pastry into his mouth before leaning back in his chair.

You're about to toss another sarcastic remark his way when something catches your eye. Or, more specifically, half of something. A small smudge of green—matcha filling, you realize—lingering on the corner of his mouth.

It's instinctive, the way your hand moves—completely unthinking, like muscle memory kicking in before your brain has a chance to catch up. One moment, you're perfectly stationary in your seat; the next, your thumb is brushing against his lip, swiping the smudge away with a gentle, practiced motion.

He startles at the touch, his whole body jerking slightly as his eyes snap to yours. And then, just like that, reality crashes back in.

Your hand freezes midair.

His mouth parts for half a second, like he's about to say something, but then his tongue darts out—slow, deliberate—to lick the exact spot your thumb had just brushed.

You snatch your hand back like you've been burned, your face heating despite yourself.

The silence that follows is awful. Deafening. Inescapable.

He shifts in his chair, his eyes flickering to the table, then back to you, then down again. He clears his throat—once, then twice—before adjusting the edge of his suit with what you can only describe as frantic energy.

"So… uh…" His voice is tight. Way tighter than usual, cracking slightly on the first syllable. "Thanks for that. The, uh. The whole… lip thing. That was. Uh. Cool."

You blink at him, deadpan. "Cool?"

"Yeah. Cool. Totally normal and cool. Happens all the time. Super casual."

If you weren't so flustered yourself, you'd have laughed at the way he's fidgeting in his seat, his hands gripping his thighs under the table like he's trying not to explode.

"Right," you say slowly, leaning back in your chair. "Casual."

"Exactly."

He nods a little too enthusiastically, and you notice his knees bumping against each other under the table before he quickly crosses his legs. His hands drop to his lap almost immediately after, like he's trying to adjust the spandex near his thighs.

Your gaze is momentarily drawn there before—

"Anyway!" The word comes out nearly an octave higher than it should. He's already standing—or, more accurately, bolting to his feet—his hands still awkwardly hovering in front of him. "I should, uh, get going! Supervillains don't wait, you know? Gotta, uh… save the people of Seoul. Yeah. Big hero stuff."

You stare at him, unblinking, as he starts inching toward the door. "Uh-huh."

"Thanks for the pastries, noona! Great talk, as always!" He clears his throat again, audibly struggling to keep his voice steady. "Okay! Bye!"

And then he's gone, practically sprinting out of the cafe before he can embarrass himself any further.

You sit there for a long moment, still frozen, your brain catching up to what just happened. Then, slowly, you reach for another pastry.

Whatever just happened? Definitely not your problem.

"I'm such a fucking idiot."

Jungkook's voice is muffled by his hands, currently covering his face in what can only be described as unrelenting shame. He's lying on Jimin's couch, legs splayed out haphazardly, the picture of a man defeated by his own existence.

Across the room, Jimin raises an eyebrow, lazily popping another chip into his mouth. The bag crinkles loudly, much to Jungkook's dismay. "It's not that bad, Kooks. She probably didn't even notice."

Jungkook groans, dragging his hands down his face until his eyes peek out dramatically between his fingers. "She 100% noticed. It was—like—a five-minute interaction. FIVE minutes, and I made it weird. Now she's gonna think I'm a fucking weirdo and a creep."

Jimin doesn't even try to hide the snort that escapes him, his expression somewhere between entertained and unimpressed. "Yeah, because stalking her as Spider-Man didn't have her thinking that already."

Jungkook bolts upright on the couch, eyes wide with panic. "She told you that?!"

Jimin chokes on his chip, wheezing as he waves his hand for Jungkook to calm down. "No! Shit, man, calm down. I'm just saying. Like, I guess? I mean, you do kind of… hover. A lot."

"I don't hover," Jungkook protests, indignant. But even as the words leave his mouth, he hesitates. "Do I hover?"

Jimin gives him a look.

Jungkook groans again, flopping back onto the couch like his limbs have given up on life. "Oh my god, you're right. I hover. I'm that guy. And now it's worse because who the fuck pops a boner from someone—" He pauses, embarrassingly aware of the words about to leave his mouth. "—touching their lip? What is wrong with me? I must be insane. She must think I'm insane."

Jimin, now thoroughly entertained, leans back in his chair with his bag of chips, one leg crossed over the other. "I mean... it's not great," he says unhelpfully, though there's a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Jungkook lets out a strangled noise, somewhere between a groan and a whimper, and buries his face back into his hands. "She's never gonna look at me the same. I probably freaked her out. GOD, she's gonna think I'm some kind of pervert. Or—worse—she's gonna avoid me completely now. And then I'll never see her again. And then—"

"Okay, okay," Jimin interrupts, holding up a hand to stop whatever spiral Jungkook's about to drag them into. "First of all, she offered to share her snack with you, so I don't think she's avoiding you anytime soon."

"But that was BEFORE—"

"Second of all," Jimin continues loudly, ignoring Jungkook's interjection, "maybe just... stop calling her 'noona' every chance you get? It's not helping your case."

Jungkook frowns, peeking out from behind his fingers again. "What's wrong with calling her noona? That's respectful!"

"Yeah, but it's also kinda... you know," Jimin winces, waving a hand vaguely. "Weird, coming from you. Like, you're already bumbling around her like a lost golden retriever. Adding 'noona' into the mix just makes you look—what's the word?"

"Adorable?" Jungkook tries hopefully.

"Pathetic," Jimin finishes, deadpan.

Jungkook groans for what feels like the millionth time, throwing his head against the couch cushion. "Why do I even talk to you? You're supposed to make me feel better, hyung. Not worse."

"Hey, I'm here for the truth," Jimin says, pointing at him with a chip in hand. "You want a cheerleader, go call Taehyung."

"Taehyung's just gonna laugh at me," Jungkook mutters into the cushion.

"And yet, you're shocked I'm doing it too."

Jungkook mumbles something unintelligible, his face half-smashed into the cushion now as he replays every excruciating detail of his interaction with you earlier. The way your thumb had brushed his lip. The way he'd immediately been unable to control the—well, reaction. The way he'd panicked like an idiot, stammered something incomprehensible, and practically bolted out of the cafe without even finishing his sentence.

"Kill me," he says dramatically, still face-down in the cushion. "Just end me. I can't show my face again."

Jimin laughs, leaning forward to pat Jungkook's shoulder in a way that's more mocking than comforting. "Relax, man. You'll survive. Just... maybe keep your hormones in check next time, yeah?"

Jungkook flips him off blindly, his hand waving somewhere above his head.

"Love you too, Spider-Menace," Jimin quips, taking another chip like this is the best entertainment he's had all week.

The crunching sound of Jimin biting into another chip is loud enough to make Jungkook groan into the couch again. "Do you ever stop eating?" Jungkook mutters, his voice muffled by the cushion.

Jimin raises an eyebrow, unbothered, and is about to throw a smartass reply back when his phone buzzes on the coffee table. He glances at the screen, sees Taehyung's name, and shrugs, casually placing the phone between his shoulder and ear as he picks up without pausing his snacking.

"What's up?" Jimin hums lazily, chips still in hand, completely ignoring Jungkook's existential crisis unfolding just feet away from him.

Jungkook's ears perk up despite himself—because why else would Taehyung be calling Jimin right now? He lifts his head just enough to peek over the cushion, his hair mussed and sticking up in odd directions.

Jimin's expression doesn't change at first, eyes still fixated on the bag of chips in his lap as he listens. "Yeah, he's with me," he says vaguely, gesturing aimlessly toward Jungkook, who frowns at being referred to like some stray dog Jimin found.

But then Jimin freezes. His chewing slows. His eyebrows shoot up toward his hairline as Taehyung says something that causes him to do a violent double take at Jungkook.

"What?" Jimin coughs, choking on the chip he was mid-swallow. He pounds his chest a little before leaning forward sharply. "He—what? What, what, what—? Tae, calm down—!"

"What's going on?" Jungkook asks, sitting up now, his stomach twisting uncomfortably at Jimin's sudden change in tone.

Jimin waves him off with a quick flick of his hand, signaling for him to shut up. "No, yeah. Yeah, no, I know," Jimin mumbles into the phone, his tone getting increasingly more exasperated as he listens. "Tae—okay? Can you just—okay?"

"What's wrong??" Jungkook asks again, panic creeping into his voice. He hates not knowing what's going on, especially when Jimin looks... concerned? Flustered? Whatever it is, it's not good.

Jimin twists his head toward Jungkook, eyes narrowing as he motions aggressively with his entire head for Jungkook to shut the hell up.

"Okay, let me— what? You wanna talk to him?" Jimin repeats, his voice pitching higher in disbelief. "Oh, now you wanna talk to him? Fine! Okay, okay, okay, here."

Before Jungkook can process what's happening, Jimin is all but shoving his phone into Jungkook's hands, plunking the bag of chips onto the bed with a dramatic sigh.

"Take it," Jimin mutters, irritation bleeding into his tone.

"Wait, why do I have to—"

"Take it," Jimin repeats, louder this time, his hand already retreating as he grabs another chip to munch on, clearly done with whatever chaos Taehyung just unloaded on him.

Jungkook swallows nervously, holding the phone to his ear as Taehyung's voice immediately fills it in a panicked rush.

"Jungkook! Oh my god, dude, you're not gonna believe this—" Taehyung starts, and Jungkook feels his entire stomach plummet before Taehyung can even finish his sentence.

"Believe what?" Jungkook half-yells into the phone, his voice cracking just slightly at the end, betraying the anxiety bubbling under his skin.

"Don't freak out," Taehyung begins, which, of course, makes Jungkook's blood pressure shoot straight through the roof. His knuckles grip Jimin's phone tightly, and he shares a panicked look with Jimin, who's now leaning against the coffee table with a chip halfway to his mouth, watching the scene unfold like it's prime-time drama.

"I'm already freaking out, hyung! Just tell me!" Jungkook demands, pacing the room like a caged animal.

"Okay, so," Taehyung starts again, and Jungkook can hear the smirk in his voice, which immediately makes him want to fling the phone out the window. "You know Y/N, yeah?"

"Do I—what do you mean, 'do I know Y/N'?! Of course I know—just get to the point!" Jungkook's frustration is mounting by the second. He's wound so tight he feels like a single flick might send him spiraling.

"Okay, Mr. Touchy," Taehyung says innocently, and Jungkook can practically see him holding back a laugh wherever he is. "So, uh… apparently, she's been asking questions."

Jungkook stops dead in his tracks. His heart lurches in a way that makes his hands clammy against the phone. "Questions?" he repeats, voice barely above a whisper.

"Yeah," Taehyung continues, tone far too blasé for Jungkook's liking. "You know, like... about Spider-Man."

Jungkook swears his brain short-circuits. For a second, all he hears is static, like every neuron in his head has collectively stopped firing.

"...What kind of questions?" he asks quietly, his voice taking on an edge that immediately grabs Jimin's attention.

"Oh, you know." Taehyung's voice is light, purposefully teasing. "Like, how he seems to always show up when she's around, or how he just happens to bring her favorite snacks, or—oh, this one's my favorite—how his voice cracks exactly like a certain freshman she knows at Yonsei."

Jungkook's knees buckle, and he collapses back onto the couch like his strings have been cut. Jimin is now openly laughing, clutching his stomach with one hand while pointing at Jungkook with the other.

"She—oh my god," Jungkook mutters into the phone, his free hand running through his hair in frantic tugs. "She knows. She knows, doesn't she? I'm so fucked."

"Hey, hey, calm down!" Taehyung says hurriedly, though his voice is still laced with amusement. "She doesn't know know. I mean, I don't think so. She's not like, accusing you or anything. Just... putting pieces together. Y'know, connecting dots."

"Connecting dots?!" Jungkook hisses, his chest tightening as his worst nightmare begins to unfold in real time. "Do you have any idea how many dots there ARE, hyung?! I'm like a walking... dot-factory!"

Jimin absolutely loses it, doubling over in laughter as crumbs from his chips scatter across the floor.

"Okay, Kook, you need to calm down," Taehyung says, though his tone suggests he's also suppressing a laugh. "She's just curious, that's all. You know how Y/N is. She's a journalist. She's always sniffing around for a good story, right?"

"She doesn't need THIS story!" Jungkook yells, his hand clenching into a fist against his thigh. "Oh my god, what if she writes about it? What if she—what if it ENDS UP IN THE SCHOOL PAPER?!"

"Relax, relax, relax," Taehyung says in quick succession, his voice almost soothing now. "She's not gonna write about it. I don't think she'd do that to you... unless, you know, you give her a reason to."

Jungkook groans, leaning forward to bury his face in his hands again. "I'm so dead. She's gonna out me. My life is over. My life is literally over."

"Hyung," Jimin finally pipes up, gasping for air as he wipes away a tear from laughing too hard. "Tell him to just confess already. At this rate, she'll figure it out before he ever grows the balls to tell her himself."

"Confess?" Jungkook sputters, jerking his head up to glare at Jimin. "Are you insane?! You want me to walk up to her and go, 'Hey, Y/N, funny thing—remember how you thought I was stalking you? Well, surprise! I was, but it's okay because I'm Spider-Man!' That's your plan?!"

Jimin shrugs, smirking as he tosses a chip into his mouth. "Worked for Andrew Garfield."

"THIS IS NOT A MOVIE!"

Taehyung's laugh echoes through the phone, loud and clear. "Oh man, I wish I was there to see this meltdown in person. Seriously, Kook, stop freaking out. Just... play it cool, okay? She doesn't know anything for sure. Yet."

"Yet?!" Jungkook exclaims, horror-struck.

"Gotta go!" Taehyung says way too quickly, the call disconnecting before Jungkook can yell at him further.

Jungkook stares at the phone in disbelief, his chest heaving as Jimin's smug laughter reverberates in the background.

"Cool," Jimin repeats mockingly, curving his lips. "Yeah, Kook, just play it cool. You're so good at that."

Jungkook groans, tossing the phone onto the couch and collapsing after it. "I need new friends."

"You love us," Jimin chirps, reaching for another chip.

Jungkook screams into the pillow.

You were expecting something, anything, really. A subtle slip-up. A sheepish confession. Hell, maybe even some stammering and nervous sweating.

But the moment you confronted Taehyung—cornered him, really, by the vending machine in the student lounge—and the words "Do you know if Jungkook's Spider-Man?" left your mouth, all he did was cackle. Loudly. Mockingly. Like a full-on villain in a Saturday morning cartoon.

"Spider-Man?" he wheezed, doubling over and clutching his stomach like you'd just told him the funniest joke in existence. "Jungkook? Jeon Jungkook? Noona, you're joking, right?"

You blinked, momentarily thrown off by how visceral his reaction was. "No. I'm not joking," you said stiffly, crossing your arms. "What's so funny about it?"

Taehyung straightened up, wiping a fake tear from the corner of his eye as he glanced at you with barely contained amusement. "Do you know Jungkook? Like, know him? Because that kid has two left feet. I've literally seen him trip over air. How would he even swing that gracefully?"

For a brief, fleeting moment, you felt the smallest hitch in your resolve. Because, well, the evidence did kind of contradict itself, didn't it? Jungkook is clumsy sometimes. That much is true. You've seen him knock over a whole stack of textbooks just trying to nod hello at you in the hallway. He once walked into a doorframe because he was too busy staring at his phone.

Spider-Man, by comparison, is supposed to be graceful. Quick. Precise. Not... whatever it is Jungkook embodies most of the time.

But then you think about the stupid coffee shop incident. The way Spider-Man stammered and fidgeted and tripped over his words like a nervous wreck. The way he dropped his entire cool superhero persona when he handed you those damn matcha pastries. He wasn't exactly graceful then, was he?

And okay, let's talk about those pastries for a second. Because the more you think about them, the more your brain starts spinning. You distinctly remember mentioning them once—to Eunjae, over lunch in the cafeteria, weeks ago. How the hell would Spider-Man know about them if he wasn't there to overhear?

You frown, chewing on the inside of your cheek as the pieces start stacking themselves again in your head. Jungkook might be clumsy, sure. But Spider-Man was clumsy too. At least, that day he was. And the matcha pastries aren't just a coincidence. They can't be.

Your inner spiral is abruptly interrupted by a bright, familiar voice calling out behind you.

"Noona!"

You whirl around at the sound like a guilty kid caught stealing candy, heart practically leaping into your throat because you know that voice anywhere. And there he is, the devil himself—Jeon Jungkook, all floppy hair and dumbly wide grin, bounding toward you like an overexcited golden retriever.

He sidesteps a couple of students in his path, his long legs moving with just a little too much energy. Honestly, it's a miracle he doesn't trip.

"I brought you these!" he announces, holding up a plastic bag like it's some kind of trophy. His grin stretches so wide it practically touches his ears, and you hate that your first thought is how stupidly adorable he looks.

Stupid, you think, swiping the bag from his hand. Not adorable. Definitely not adorable. You're sure of it.

Peeking inside, your brows furrow. "Hotteok?"

Jungkook presses his lips together, humming as he nods eagerly. "Yeah! You—" His smile falters just a touch. "You don't like it?"

The way his face drops shouldn't make you feel so guilty, but it does, and it's annoying. "No, uh, I mean…" You struggle for the right words, because… hotteok? Really? You'd been expecting the matcha pastries again. This feels almost purposeful—like he's playing dumb. Is he? Or is this proof that you've been completely off base this whole time?

You're overthinking again. Shaking your head, you wave off the thought entirely. "Yeah, thank you, Jungkook-ah," you mutter, tone softer than you mean it to be.

The banmal slips out without much thought, but the effect it has is immediate. His eyes go wide, and then his whole face lights up in the kind of beam that makes you want to smack yourself for fueling his enthusiasm.

"This is the first time you dropped honorifics with me," he says, looking downright gleeful.

You clench the bag a little tighter and wish you could hate him. Why is he so excited over something so small? Why does it make your chest feel weirdly tight? And why is it so hard to stay annoyed at him when he looks at you like that?

God, this kid.

"Don't get used to it," you mutter gruffly, turning away before the growing warmth in your cheeks betrays you completely.

"So," he begins, falling into step beside you as you start walking toward the journalism building. "What are your plans for today?"

You don't respond. Not out of spite or anything—you're just not in the mood to entertain whatever puppy-dog energy he's radiating right now.

"Writing notes?" he prompts, glancing sideways at you, his tone just a little too hopeful for your liking.

Still, you say nothing.

"Coffee?"

Nope.

"Gonna catch leads for Spider-Man's identity?"

That one makes you stop dead in your tracks. You whirl around so fast he nearly collides with you, blinking like a deer caught in headlights. "Huh?"

His eyes widen marginally, mouth opening and closing like he's trying to come up with a quick excuse. "Taehyung told me!" he blurts, the words tumbling out in a rush.

For a second, you just stare at him, blinking once, then twice. "Huh," you reply, eyebrows quirking upward.

"Yeah!" he adds, voice pitching slightly higher, probably in an effort to sound casual. "He said you were, uh, investigating? Like, Spider-Man and all that? You know, trying to figure out who he is?"

Your head tilts as you study him, arms crossing instinctively. "Did he now?"

"Uh-huh," he nods enthusiastically, though the way his hand rubs at the back of his neck gives him away almost immediately. "I mean, not that I think that's, like, bad or anything? It's cool! Totally cool! I mean, you're a journalist, so, like, it's your job, right? Investigating stuff and—"

"Jungkook."

He freezes, looking way too much like a kid caught sneaking cookies before dinner.

"Why," you ask, narrowing your eyes just slightly, "do you sound like you're trying to convince me not to?"

"I-I'm not! I'm not," he stammers, waving his hands frantically. "I was just, you know, saying! Like, uh, if anyone were trying to find his identity, it'd definitely be you because, uh… you're smart? And observant? And not at all easy to fool?"

Your brow arches higher, his stream of nervous compliments only fueling the suspicion building in your chest.

"Right," you say slowly, dragging out the word as you step closer, watching the way his Adam's apple bobs nervously when your gaze meets his. "So hypothetically…"

"H-Hypothetically," he squeaks, leaning back like he's mentally bracing himself for whatever's coming next.

"If I was trying to find out who Spider-Man is," you continue, voice calm and steady, "you wouldn't happen to have anything to do with that, now would you?"

The way he freezes, body rigid and eyes darting everywhere but at you, would be funny if it weren't so telling. The sheer panic written all over his face is practically criminal.

"I—uh—no? N-No. Definitely not," he stammers, the pitch of his voice betraying him entirely. "W-Why would I have anything to do with that? I'm just a freshman! I don't even know Spider-Man! I mean, who even is Spider-Man? Could be anyone, right? Crazy world we live in, haha…"

You take a moment to just stare at him, fighting the urge to roll your eyes so hard they might actually get stuck. "Right," you deadpan, turning on your heel to start walking again.

Jungkook exhales audibly behind you, feet scrambling to catch up. "Y-Yeah, right! That's what I thought too!" he says quickly, clearly desperate to steer the conversation in another direction. "Anyway, uh, where were we? Oh! Notes! Are you writing notes today, noona?"

You don't respond. Again. Mostly because you're too busy replaying his very suspicious reaction over and over in your head like a mental highlight reel.

Yeah… no way this kid isn't up to something.

You keep walking, your steps steady, purposeful. Jungkook, as always, trots along beside you like he's afraid you might disappear if he doesn't keep up. And unlike you, who values peace and quiet, Jungkook doesn't seem to understand the concept of shutting up.

"So, like, I was thinking," he starts, voice bright and eager. "If Spider-Man's around all the time, do you think he lives nearby? Like, maybe he's a uni student? Or—or maybe he's secretly a professor? Oh my god, imagine Professor Kim as Spider-Man—he'd probably web someone for being late to class, right? Oh, oh, or he'd use his powers to booby-trap the lecture hall if we don't submit our midterms on time! Haha—what do you think, noona?"

You don't answer.

"And have you noticed he wears, like, the same colors as Yonsei's? Like, blue and red? Do you think that's on purpose? Maybe he's trying to rep the school spirit! Or maybe he's trying to throw us off! Who knows, right? I mean, what's your theory? You must have a theory—you're always so smart about these things—"

"Jungkook," you interject, your voice flat as you stop abruptly in your tracks. He almost trips trying to halt beside you, blinking wide-eyed like he didn't expect you to actually respond.

"Yeah?"

"Don't you have class?" You ask, turning your head just enough for him to see the pointed look you're giving him.

He licks his lips, and you know he's about to lie before the words even leave his mouth. "No?"

"Liar," you deadpan, already turning back to face forward.

"You know my schedule?" he shoots back, voice teasing as he trails after you again.

You roll your eyes but don't give him the satisfaction of a retort. If you respond, he'll just milk it—probably tease you further, or worse, distract you with another string of nonsense questions about Spider-Man. No, you're better off ignoring him.

So, you keep walking. He keeps rambling.

And then—

The sound of a bus engine roaring down the street takes you off guard. You don't even register the rush of movement until it's too late.

Suddenly, there's a firm pressure against your shoulders, and you're stumbling—but not forward, no—backward. Stumbling directly into Jungkook's chest, his arms bracketing your body like they're the only thing stopping you from tumbling straight into the pavement.

Your breath catches, your heart pounding against your ribs. You freeze, blinking up at him in shock. "What the—"

He's close. Too close. His face hovers just inches from yours, his expression wide-eyed and… strained.

"Are you okay?" he blurts, his voice laced with breathless concern like he's just sprinted a marathon.

You don't answer. You can't answer. Because all you can think about is how the hell he even managed to grab you like that.

He was five meters away. Five meters away, Jungkook. There's no way he could've—

"What the fuck," you murmur under your breath, your mind racing a mile a minute as you shove yourself upright, still staring at him like he's grown a second head. "How—when—how the fuck did you just—"

"It was nothing!" he rushes out, cutting you off before you can finish your sentence. His voice cracks, and he's already letting go of you, stepping back like he's afraid of the scrutiny in your eyes. "I-I mean, reflexes? Adrenaline? Fight or flight? Haha…"

You narrow your eyes, suspicious once again. "…Right."

Jungkook scratches the back of his neck, the tips of his ears turning red. "Yeah, uh… it's all good. You're fine, right? Totally fine! So, uh… should we—keep walking? Yep, let's keep walking!"

He starts to turn away again, clearly desperate to move on, but you don't budge. You're too busy trying to piece together what just happened, trying to figure out how Jungkook keeps doing things that defy all logic and common sense.

And that's when it hits you.

Spider-Man. Fast reflexes. The ability to move like that without warning. You glance down at his feet, planted firmly on the ground, and then back up at his sheepish grin.

No fucking way.

"I'm leaving."

"No—come on, Tae, you promised!" Jungkook whines, clutching at Taehyung's shoulder like a child trying to stop his older sibling from walking out the door.

Taehyung stops mid-stride, turning to glare at him with an expression that's this close to murderous. "I promised you I'd study with you at the library," he hisses. "Not that we'd come here so you can sit there and drool all over her."

Jungkook freezes, eyes wide. "I—what?!"

"You heard me," Taehyung deadpans, shoving Jungkook's hand off his shoulder.

"I have no clue what you're talking about," Jungkook mumbles, feigning innocence as he suddenly averts his gaze.

Taehyung rolls his eyes so hard it's a miracle they don't get stuck. "Kook, you've been staring at her table since we walked in. Don't even try to deny it."

"I—have not!" Jungkook protests, voice pitching just slightly higher than normal. His head jerks around, and of course his eyes instinctively flicker to your table. The one three meters to the left. The one where you're currently sitting, completely engrossed in your notes, pencil moving methodically across the page like it's the only thing that matters in the world.

You're breathtaking. Ethereal. Like a beam of light in the dull, dusty gloom of the library.

And honestly, Jungkook's not even sure why he's into you. Okay, maybe he's a little sure. Or a lot. But that's not the point—the point is—he is definitely not staring. Not staring, not drooling. Definitely.

"You're doing it right now, man," Taehyung mutters, arms crossed.

"I'm not!"

"You are."

"I'm not! It's just—" Jungkook swallows, gesturing vaguely in your direction. "I was just… checking out the table. It's a nice table! Good wood quality, sturdy legs. The craftsmanship is—"

"Good wood quality?" Taehyung repeats, staring at him like he's lost his mind.

Jungkook groans, throwing his hands up in defeat. "Fine! Okay! Maybe I glanced at her for a second. It's not a crime, hyung!"

Taehyung lets out a long-suffering sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose like he's already regretting his life choices. "I am so done with you," he mutters. But even as the words leave his mouth, he walks toward one of the tables anyway and plops his bag down into one of the vacant chairs.

"Sit," he grumbles, motioning vaguely to the chair across from him. "And don't make me regret this."

Jungkook doesn't need to be told twice. He practically trips over himself as he sits, trying to act cool and not-at-all-focused on the fact that you're sitting so close. So close that he can see the faint furrow in your brow as you concentrate, or the way you absentmindedly tap the end of your pencil against your notebook.

He's not staring. Definitely not staring. Probably.

"You're staring again," Taehyung says flatly, not even bothering to look up from his own notes.

"No, I'm not!" Jungkook hisses, slouching lower in his chair.

Taehyung snorts. "Okay, Mr. 'Good Wood Quality.' Sure."

Jungkook tries. He really does. He's here to study—or at least, he's here to pretend to study—and he's determined to do something productive. Something library-like. Something that doesn't involve spending the entire time sneaking glances at you like some lovesick idiot.

So, step one: grab a book. Easy. People in libraries read books, right? He can do that. Simple.

He meanders through the shelves, grabbing the first book that catches his eye. He doesn't even check the title. Doesn't matter. A book's a book.

Step two: sit down. Done. Chair, occupied. Book, open.

Step three: look at the book like he's actually reading it.

He squints at the text, hoping his brain will absorb something through sheer willpower because god knows his mind sure as hell isn't cooperating right now. Every five seconds, it drifts back to the table three meters away, where you're still sitting, still taking notes, still looking unfairly... breathtaking.

"Jungkook," Taehyung mutters, his voice barely above a grumble as he glances up from his own book. "Why the fuck are you reading that?"

"What?" Jungkook blinks, startled, then looks down at the book in his hands for the first time.

Advanced Theoretical Physics.

Oh.

"You don't even study physics," Taehyung points out flatly, his tone dripping with judgment.

Jungkook flushes, slamming the book shut and fumbling to shove it under the table. "I—uh—thought it looked interesting."

Taehyung stares at him. "Sure you did."

Before Jungkook can come up with anything to salvage what's left of his dignity, you—of all people—decide to stand up, and all the air in Jungkook's lungs promptly decides to leave with you.

Oh, god. You're moving. Why are you moving? Where are you going? Should he say something? Should he act casual? Should he—

You shift slightly, gathering your things, and suddenly Jungkook's heart is doing this weird thing where it's racing and stuttering and flipping over itself, and now his body is moving before his brain can even think to stop it.

"Gotta go," he blurts, practically tripping over his chair as he bolts to his feet. "To the bathroom. I have to—pee. Yeah, really super really need to pee right now. See you in a bit!"

Taehyung looks up, stunned, as Jungkook all but sprints toward the library exit. "What the—wait—"

But Jungkook's already halfway across the library, muttering curses under his breath as he tries not to make it obvious that he's absolutely not going to the bathroom.

Taehyung sighs deeply, dragging a hand down his face before muttering to himself, "He's gonna get us banned from this place, isn't he?"

Jungkook's halfway to the library exit, heart pounding, when he realizes something odd.

You're not heading to the exit.

You're not even walking toward the bathroom.

He skids to a stop, trying very hard to play it cool, to act like he's not absolutely clocking your every move. His hands find their way into his hoodie pocket as he leans against the nearest bookshelf, pretending to scan the titles like he's not also sneaking glances at you over his shoulder.

Okay, so you're not leaving. That's fine. Totally normal. You're just… heading deeper into the library. Toward some distant corner, weaving past tables and shelves like you've got some secret mission.

And Jungkook? Jungkook is absolutely not a stalker. He's not. He's just curious. That's it. Normal behavior. Normal library behavior for a normal freshman.

Totally not unhinged.

But then you disappear behind a bookshelf, and his feet are moving before his brain can step on the brakes.

He follows, not too fast—just casual-like. Normal person stuff. Nothing suspicious. His eyes dart between shelves as he tries to spot where you went, his stomach doing this weird twisty thing that's part nerves, part excitement, part oh-god-why-am-I-like-this anxiety.

And just when he thinks he's catching up, just when he rounds the corner of yet another shelf and is about to spot you—

Yank.

Jungkook barely has time to register what's happening before soft hands grab him by the hoodie and pull him into a small, cramped room. His back bumps into something solid—he thinks it's the door—and suddenly you're standing right there, close enough that he can see every detail of your face, from the faint line of concentration on your forehead to the subtle curl of your lips as you exhale sharply.

Oh fuck. Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.

"You," you exhale, your voice sharp but quiet. "Have some explaining to do, young mister."

Jungkook's mouth opens, but nothing comes out. His brain is short-circuiting, sparking like a broken circuit board, because—how? Why? When? What?

"I—uh—I—what?" he stammers, blinking rapidly as his eyes dart around the tiny supply closet you've dragged him into. It's all brooms and cleaning supplies and the faint smell of lemon disinfectant, and holy fuck, it is too small in here. You're too close.

"Don't play dumb," you mutter, arms crossing as you lean back just slightly—not enough to give him actual breathing room, but enough to make him feel like he's being scrutinized under a microscope. "You've been acting… weird."

"Weird?" He squeaks, his voice cracking embarrassingly. "Me? Weird? No, I'm not weird! I'm—uh—normal! Super normal! The most normal person ever!"

Your brow arches, the skepticism written all over your face making his knees weak. "Normal people don't act like they've got something to hide," you reply evenly.

"I don't have anything to hide!" he says way too quickly, voice pitching high again.

You don't look convinced. Not one bit.

Jungkook swallows hard, his throat suddenly dry as he tries to come up with an excuse, a cover, a way to escape both this tiny-ass room and the weight of your accusing gaze.

But all he can think about is how close you are. How your voice sounds louder in this little space. How your shampoo smells faintly like citrus. How utterly and completely trapped he feels—not just against the door, but under the intensity of your stare.

And he's so screwed. So screwed.

"The bus thing," you say, and Jungkook feels his entire soul leave his body for approximately three seconds before crash-landing right back into his chest with a painful thud.

"What bus thing?" he asks, trying for innocent confusion, but his voice comes out more like a strangled whisper. "There are lots of bus things. Buses are everywhere. Seoul's public transport system is very efficient and—"

"Three days ago," you cut him off, eyes narrowing. "When I almost got hit."

Oh.

Oh.

Oh fuck.

The memory hits him like a freight train. Three days ago. That stupid bus driver who didn't see you crossing. The way his heart had stopped dead in his chest when he realized you were about to—and he'd just—without thinking—

He'd used his webs.

On you.

In broad daylight.

As Jungkook.

Not Spider-Man.

Just... regular freshman Jeon Jungkook, who definitely shouldn't have access to web-shooters or superhuman reflexes or the ability to yank someone out of harm's way from five meters away.

"I don't—" he starts, but his mouth is dry, his tongue feeling too big for his mouth. "That was just—"

"Just what?" you press, leaning closer. "Just adrenaline? Just reflexes? Just another totally normal thing that totally normal freshmen do?"

"Yes?" he squeaks, pressing himself further against the shelf on his back like he might somehow phase through it if he tries hard enough.

Your eyes narrow further. "Really."

"Really!" He nods frantically. "I mean, haven't you heard those stories? About moms lifting cars off their kids? Same thing! Totally the same thing. Chemistry major stuff. Very scientific. Fight or flight response. Cortisol. Adrenaline. Biology... things."

"You're not a chemistry major."

"I could be!"

"You're in communications."

"...Minor in chemistry?"

You stare at him for a long moment, and Jungkook swears he can feel sweat beginning to bead at the back of his neck. This closet is too small. The air is too thick. You're too close, and your eyes are too sharp, and oh god, he's really messed up this time hasn't he?

"Jungkook," you say, voice low and steady. "How exactly did you pull me away from that bus?"

"I... ran really fast?"

"You were five meters away."

"I'm... very athletic?"

"Five meters, Jungkook."

He swallows hard, adam's apple bobbing nervously. "Would you believe me if I said I've been working out?"

The look you give him could probably melt steel. "Try again."

"Yoga?"

"Jungkook."

"Pilates?"

You lean even closer, if that's possible, and Jungkook's pretty sure his heart is about to explode right out of his chest. "One more chance," you murmur. "Tell me the truth."

And god, he wants to. He really, really wants to. Because you're right there, looking at him with those eyes that see right through him, and he's tired of lying, tired of pretending, tired of—

"I just..." he starts, voice barely above a whisper. "I couldn't let you get hurt."

Your expression softens, just slightly, but your gaze remains unwavering. "How did you do it?"

"I—"

Just as Jungkook's about to bolt, there's a distinct click that makes both of you freeze.

"What the—?" You whirl around, pushing past him to grab the handle. It doesn't budge. You try again, yanking harder this time. Nothing.

"You must be fucking kidding me," you mutter under your breath, jiggling the handle with increasing frustration.

And that's when Jungkook realizes several things at once:

1. Someone's locked you two in.

2. The closet is tiny.

3. You're pressed up against him trying to open the door.

4. Your ass is—

Oh god.

Oh god.

This cannot be happening. Not again. Not after the coffee shop incident. Not after he literally had to swing away to deal with his... situation.

"Fuck," he breathes, trying to press himself further into the piece of furniture behind him, but there's nowhere to go. The shelves dig into his back as he attempts to create even an inch of space between your bodies.

His hands hover awkwardly at his sides, not daring to touch you, not daring to move. His breath catches in his throat as you shift again, still wrestling with the door handle, completely oblivious to the way each movement sends sparks of electricity through his entire body.

"Hey!" you call out, banging on the door. "This isn't funny!"

Focus on something else, Jungkook tells himself desperately. Anything else. Math. Chemistry. Professor Kim's boring lectures. That time Jimin ate an entire jar of kimchi and—

You shift again, and Jungkook has to bite his lip to suppress a strangled noise.

"Seriously," you growl, hitting the door again. "Whoever's out there better unlock this right now or I swear to god—"

Think unsexy thoughts. Think unsexy thoughts. Dead puppies. Tax forms. Spidey suit chafing. Anything but how soft you feel against—

"Jungkook?" Your voice cuts through his desperate mental gymnastics. "You okay? You're breathing kind of weird."

"Fine!" he squeaks, voice way too high to be convincing. "Totally fine! Just, uh... claustrophobic! Very claustrophobic. Super claustrophobic. Did I mention I'm claustrophobic?"

You turn your head slightly, and even in the dim light, he can see your brow furrow. "Since when?"

"Since... right now?"

Another shift of your hips as you try the handle again, and Jungkook has to close his eyes, silently praying to whatever deity might be listening to either kill him now or get him out of this situation before he combusts from sheer embarrassment.

Because if you notice... if you realize... oh god, he'll never live it down. He'll have to transfer schools. Change his name. Move to a different country. Become a hermit in the mountains where no one will ever find him—

"Can you try pushing while I pull?" you ask, completely unaware of his internal crisis.

Jungkook makes a sound that might be agreement, might be distress, might be his soul leaving his body. He's not really sure anymore.

All he knows is that he's trapped in a closet with you, with your body pressed against his, and his spidey-sense is absolutely no help because apparently it doesn't warn him about situations that might kill him from pure mortification.

"Jungkook?" you prompt again, and he realizes he hasn't moved to help with the door.

"Right!" he says quickly, voice cracking. "Sorry! Just... give me a second to... uh... mentally prepare."

You snort. "For pushing a door?"

"Yes," he says weakly, because what else can he say? 'Sorry, I need a minute because you feel too good pressed against me and I'm trying very hard not to embarrass myself'?

Yeah, no. He'd rather die.

Jungkook does what you say. He really does. He plants his palms flat against the door, muscles tensing as he tries to push in time with your pulls. But it's too much. Too much to focus on, too close, too you.

His very healthy, very 21-year-old brain is absolutely screaming some unfortunate, very, very filthy thoughts right now, and no amount of silently yelling at himself to stop it, stop it, STOP IT seems to be working.

Push and pull. Yeah, he's thinking of that in an entirely different context, and honestly, sue him. He's a guy. A guy experiencing literal hell because your ass keeps brushing against him every time you shift, and it's doing things to him.

You move again, and Jungkook swears he's going to lose it. Like, right here. On the spot. His knees are weak, his palms are sweating, and his brain is running on some kind of autopilot loop of, "Abort mission! Shut it down! This is a disaster!"

Fuck him. Fuck his life. Just take him now, death. Send the reaper. Hell, send Taehyung to throw him into the Han River. Anything but this.

But then—just as his brain reaches critical overload—you stiffen.

Oh no.

You turn your head slightly, glancing at him over your shoulder, and the look in your eyes is... not great. In fact, it's terrifying.

"Jungkook," you say, his name an ominous warning.

His whole body seizes, every alarm in his mind blaring at full volume as sweat beads at the back of his neck. "Yeah?" he squeaks, his voice cracking so hard he wants to dig his own grave and lie in it.

"Are you hard?"

Oh, fuck.

Oh FUCK.

His brain short-circuits. His entire being freezes. His soul? Gone. It has left the building. His vision blurs at the edges as the words echo around the tiny closet, bouncing off every surface and hitting him square in the chest over and over again.

"I—uh—what?" he stammers, his voice so high-pitched it might as well be a dog whistle.

You straighten, still half-facing him, and your brow furrows with that look of realization that makes him want to throw himself into the sun.

"You are," you say, your tone shifting between disbelief and a growing edge of... amusement?

"I—I—no—what? No, I'm not! That's—no, that's ridiculous!" He tries to back away automatically, but there's nowhere to go, and his shoulders slam against the wood behind him.

You fully turn at this point, arms crossing as you raise a suspicious eyebrow. "Really, Jungkook?" Your eyes drift ever so slightly downward, and oh no oh no oh no don't look down don't look down don't look down.

He flails. Not physically, thankfully, but mentally? He's losing it. He's scrambling for something, anything, to salvage even a shred of dignity.

"It's—it's not what you think!" he blurts out, his hands flying up defensively. "It's—it's the—the door! Yeah! This stupid closet! I told you I was claustrophobic, right? That's gotta... do something... biologically... right?"

You stare at him, unimpressed. Completely, utterly unimpressed.

"It's not me," he continues, voice cracking again because his body is betraying him. "It's—it's like—science! Random reaction!"

"...Random reaction." Your expression is unreadable now, which somehow makes this worse.

"Totally random," he insists, nodding way too quickly. "You know, like... blood flow! Hormones! Human anatomy! It's a thing! You can look it up!"

"Oh, I'll look it up," you mutter, the corner of your mouth twitching like you're trying very hard not to laugh.

"Please don't," Jungkook whispers, his face burning so hot he's genuinely worried the fire alarm's going to go off.

And honestly? He doesn't even care if the fire alarm goes off at this point. He'd happily burn in this library right now if it meant escaping the absolute mortification of this moment.

Jungkook is fairly certain he's about to pass out, maybe die, and definitely disintegrate into dust when it happens. You turn around, shift again, just slightly, your body brushing against him in a way that feels… deliberate?

Or is his brain just playing tricks on him now?

Oh god. Oh fuck. Is this some cruel, sick hallucination brought on by his overactive imagination? Is his mind punishing him for thinking all those filthy, traitorous thoughts earlier? Why can't he have some kind of superpower to read minds right now? Be Professor X or some shit, because at this point, anything would be better than not knowing what the hell is going through your head right now.

Do you think he's a creep? A weirdo? A perverted little freshman who can't keep it together for five fucking minutes?

Or—

The thought makes his stomach flip violently, a spark of something hot—and definitely dangerous—shooting down his spine as you shift again.

Or do you find this… fun?

Amusing?

Arousing?

Because there's something about the way you're not stepping back, the way you're not recoiling in disgust, the way your breaths are just slightly heavier than before, that's making Jungkook's head spin.

And then you chuckle—low, quiet, but unmistakable.

"This is the first time this has ever happened to me," you mutter, the sound light but laced with something he can't quite name.

But he doesn't care what it's laced with. He doesn't even care what it means.

Because oh god, that chuckle—he'd bottle it if he could. He'd trap it in a jar and keep it with him forever, listen to it on repeat like a favorite playlist, let it echo in his head until he went insane from the sound of it alone.

His mouth opens, but no words come out. His body is frozen, his brain completely fried, every single one of his senses hyper-focused on the fact that you're still right there, pressed against him, closer than you've ever been before.

Say something, dumbass, his brain screams at him. Anything. Literally anything.

"I—it's not my fault?" he manages weakly, his voice cracking so pathetically he wants to punch himself.

You laugh again, and this time there's no mistaking it—there's something mischievous in it, like you're enjoying watching him squirm. And oh no, oh god, you're enjoying this.

"I didn't say it was," you reply, your voice smooth, calm, fucking deadly.

Jungkook swallows hard. His legs feel like they're about to give out any second now. His palms are clammy. His heart is doing that thing where it feels like it's both racing and stopping entirely at the same time.

"I—uh—should we try the door again?" he stammers, trying desperately to redirect the situation before his entire body spontaneously combusts from the sheer tension in the air.

You hum softly, not answering right away, and Jungkook feels every muscle in his body tense in response.

You keep moving, but now it's with purpose—up and down motions that are too deliberate to be anything but intentional. Like you're actually trying to... to get him off. Right here. In this tiny closet. In the fucking library.

Jungkook's mind is gone. Absolutely fucking gone. His consciousness has left his body, floating somewhere near the ceiling as he tries to process what's happening. He's honestly shocked he hasn't passed out yet, given how fast his blood is rushing south.

His hands hover awkwardly over your hips, trembling with the effort not to touch. His teeth dig into his bottom lip, desperate to hold back the embarrassing sounds threatening to escape. Because he refuses to pant like some desperate animal, even though that's exactly what you're reducing him to.

But then—oh fuck—you reach back, grabbing his hands. And before his brain can catch up, you're placing them firmly on your hips.

"It's okay," you murmur, your voice low and honey-sweet. "You can touch me."

The permission makes him shudder, a full-body tremor that he couldn't suppress if he tried. Your hand slides over his, guiding it upward, and his breath catches in his throat as you move it higher, and higher, and—

Oh god.

You press his palm against your breast, and Jungkook's brain completely flatlines.

A pathetic whimper escapes him before he can stop it. His fingers twitch against the soft swell under your shirt, and he's pretty sure he's died. This is death. This is heaven. This is some kind of fever dream his horny brain has cooked up.

"Is this really happening?" he whispers, his voice raw and desperate. "Like, actually happening? Not just another dream or—"

He cuts himself off, realizing what he just admitted, but it's too late. The words are already out there, hanging in the heated air between you.

"Another dream?" you repeat, and he can hear the smirk in your voice. "You dream about this often, Jungkook-ah?"

Fuck.

"Way too often," he confesses, the words spilling from his mouth before his brain can catch up. And yeah, that's definitely because his mind has completely checked out. Because normal Jungkook? Coherent Jungkook? Would rather die than admit something like that.

But normal Jungkook isn't here right now. Normal Jungkook left the building the moment you pressed his hand to your breast. Now there's just... this Jungkook. The one who can't think straight because you're letting him squeeze and touch and feel, and your ass is doing absolutely criminal things against his cock.

His forehead drops to your neck, breath coming in heavy pants that he can't control anymore. Fuck trying to be quiet. Fuck trying to be composed. His hips move on their own, grinding forward to match your rhythm.

Because you gave him permission, right? You said he could touch. You guided his hands. So this is okay. This is allowed. This isn't just another fevered fantasy his desperate brain cooked up at 3 AM.

"Noona," he breathes against your skin, the honorific slipping out again because his filter is completely gone. His fingers flex against your breast, testing, exploring, learning what makes your breath hitch. "Fuck."

You guide his movements with a confidence that makes his head spin, showing him exactly how to touch you. His fingers find your nipple through the fabric, and the way it peaks under his touch makes him dizzy with want. Your hand stays over his, encouraging him to squeeze, to explore, to learn.

And Jungkook? He's never been this hard in his entire fucking life.

He's pathetic, really. Getting this worked up from some dry humping and breast play like he's fifteen instead of twenty-one. Sure, they're absolutely amazing tits—perfect, actually, fitting in his palm like they were made for his touch—but still. He's broadcasting his virginity like a fucking neon sign, getting this desperate this fast.

But he can't help it. Can't stop the way his hips keep rolling against you, seeking more friction, more pressure, more. He knows he's close—can feel it building in his abdomen, that telltale tingling that makes his toes curl in his stupid mismatched socks.

"Noona," he whimpers against your shoulder, the sound muffled by your shirt. "Noona, I'm—fuck—"

His breath comes in sharp, desperate pants. He's making these absolutely embarrassing sounds—little whimpers and moans he has to muffle against your skin because if anyone heard him like this, he'd actually die on the spot.

The pressure builds, and builds, and builds, until he's grinding back helplessly, practically sobbing because it feels so good he can't stand it. His free hand grips your hip like a lifeline, probably too hard, definitely leaving marks, but he can't help it.

"Please," he chokes out, though he's not sure what he's begging for. "Please, I'm—I can't—"

He's going to come in his pants like a fucking teenager, and the worst part? He doesn't even care anymore.

"It's okay, Jungkook-ah," you murmur, voice honey-sweet and deadly. "Let go for noona."

And that's—that should be illegal. The way those words hit him is criminal, making his whole body seize up like he's been electrocuted. His hips stutter, losing rhythm as everything goes white-hot. He groans against your shoulder, embarrassingly loud even muffled against the fabric, as his orgasm hits him like a fucking freight train.

He came. He just—he actually just—came in his pants. Like some inexperienced kid who's never been touched before.

Mortifying. Absolutely fucking mortifying.

A hiccup escapes him, something between a sob and a whimper, and he wants to disappear. To evaporate. To cease existing entirely.

"Hey," you whisper, so soft it makes his chest ache. Your hand reaches back, fingers threading through the hair at the nape of his neck, and his skin erupts in goosebumps immediately at the gentle touch.

He wants to cry. Wants to apologize. Wants to explain that he's not usually this pathetic (lie), that he can last longer than three minutes (another lie), that he's not always this embarrassingly eager (the biggest lie of all).

But the words stick in his throat like clay, thick and suffocating. Because what can he possibly say? 'Sorry I just creamed my pants from some dry humping and titty grabbing?'

"It's okay," you murmur, and another hiccup escapes him.

No. No, don't do that. Don't pity him. Don't say those words like anything about this situation is remotely okay. Because it's not. It's the furthest thing from okay. He just—he literally just—

"I really liked that," you add, voice soft but sure.

Jungkook's head snaps up so fast he nearly gives himself whiplash. "What?"

You… liked it? How could you possibly have liked that? He barely lasted three minutes. He came in his pants like a middle schooler. He probably squeezed your tit too hard and left bruises on your hip and made the most embarrassing sounds and—

"How?" he croaks out, voice raw and disbelieving. "How could you—that was so—I'm so—"

Pathetic. Desperate. Inexperienced. Embarrassing.

His brain supplies about fifty different self-deprecating adjectives, but none of them make it past his lips because he's still trying to process the fact that you said you liked it.

The dam breaks.

Jungkook is crying. Tears spill over his flushed cheeks, unbidden and hot with shame, and oh god, he's really lost it now. He's crying, actually fucking crying, because apparently, being mortified isn't enough. No, his body has to betray him in every possible way all at once.

His blurred vision catches you turning around to face him, and then your hands—soft, warm—reach up to gently brush the tears away from his eyelids. The gesture makes him hiccup, and he immediately wants to crawl under the floorboards and die.

"It was cute," you murmur, and your tone is soft but steady, like you actually mean it.

"Don't say that," he mumbles, voice cracking as he ducks his head, his tears threatening to spill faster. He can't handle this. He really, really can't.

You smile—a smile so kind it feels like a dagger to his chest. "Why? I'm not lying."

"You are."

"I'm not."

"It was so embarrassing!" he bursts out, the words tumbling from his mouth in one long, panicked string. "I made such embarrassing sounds and—and I—I came in my pants and—"

"It's what I wanted," you interrupt, your words cutting through his spiraling like a blade.

He freezes, the tears still clinging to his lashes. His breath catches, the air suddenly clammy.

"...What?" he croaks, the word so small and broken it barely makes it past his lips. His mind blanks, unable to process what he just heard. Surely he misheard you, right? Surely this is some kind of cruel, shame-induced hallucination because there's no way.

"It's what I wanted," you repeat, your voice unwavering as you look him straight in the eye, your gaze too steady, too certain.

His breathing stutters. His tears momentarily forgotten, he stares at you, wide-eyed and silent, like you've just flipped his entire world upside down.

Your hand is still on his cheek, thumb brushing away the lingering wetness under his eye, and Jungkook can't look away from your face. Can't process the way you're looking at him—soft but certain, like you actually meant what you just said.

"But—" he starts, voice wavering. "But why would you—I mean, I—" He swallows hard, his face burning. "I barely even touched you. I just... got off on you like some desperate—"

"Because," you cut him off, your other hand coming up to frame his face, holding him still when he tries to look away. "I liked making you fall apart like that. Liked knowing I could affect you that much."

His breath catches. "But—"

"And," you continue, your thumb trailing down to brush over his bottom lip, making him shiver. "I liked how honest you were. How you couldn't hide how much you wanted it."

Jungkook's brain short-circuits again. Because what the fuck? What the actual fuck? You liked that he was desperate? That he was pathetic and needy and—

"The sounds you made," you murmur, leaning closer, close enough that he can feel your breath against his lips. "Were fucking hot."

He makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat, caught somewhere between a whimper and a groan. Because this can't be real. This has to be some kind of fever dream. Some kind of post-orgasm hallucination.

"Noona," he breathes, his hands twitching at his sides, unsure if he's allowed to touch you again. "I—"

And then the door clicks.

Both of you freeze, heads snapping toward the sound. Light floods the closet as the door swings open, and there stands Taehyung, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

"Time's up, lovebirds!" he announces cheerfully. "Did you two work out your... tension?"

Jungkook is going to kill him. He's actually going to murder his best friend. Right after he dies of embarrassment. Again.

"Hyung," he croaks out, face burning hotter than the sun. "Did you—was this—did you plan this?!"

Taehyung just grins, wiggling his eyebrows. "You're welcome!"

Yeah, Jungkook is definitely going to kill him.

Just... maybe after he changes his pants.

❀ Do me a favour? By @red-exo

(S,F, ~2k words) Neighbor, single dad Jungkook, neighbor reader

Summary: You used to ask the nice single dad in the apartment next to yours to open jars for you. Then he moved out and the new neighbour was... different to say the least. Handsome, polite, and talented. You were in trouble.

❀ Eventually by @aliendes

(S, F, 3.1k words) Impreg kink, boyfriend Jungkook, tooth-rotting fluff 

Summary: in the midst of overhearing your shy boyfriend’s conversation about his fantasies, you make it your plan for them to come true. 

❀ depend on me by @kooktrash

(S, F, 13.k) bunnygirl reader, human jungkook, childhood friends to lovers 

Summary: you’re so used to letting Jungkook do everything for you. he babies you almost and you’re both constantly reminded of the strangeness in your friendship. you’ve always loved him but he can’t see you as anything but the little bunny girl he used to protect. you change his mind

♥︎ YouTube & use lube by @1kook

(S, 8.7k words) boyfriend & subby JK, domestic relationship 

Summary: You can’t believe this is Jungkook’s preferred sick day treatment; YouTube, cuddles, and an ugly amount of lube.

❀ commercial break ; SIX by @1kook

(S, F, 1.8k words) Domestic JK with straight smut and an impreg kink

Summary: Jungkook enjoyed pushing you down, indulging you in all your little fantasies, but he too had some he wanted to live out.

❀ EXPLORER by @1kook

(S, F, 17.8k words) Alien JK, Strangers to friends to lovers 

Summary: Jungkook does not want to impress the frankly tyrannical ways of his planet on you. He just wants to stay here and keep your couch warm for you, hold your hair back when you wash your face in the morning. 

♥︎ Cherry Flavored by @jungkookstatts

(S, ~5k words) Boyfriend and biker JK 

Summary: Your biker boyfriend takes you on a joyride.

❀ behind your touch by @caramelkoo

(S, ~3k words) husband JK, Wife Reader 

Summary: The introverted couple decides it's time to experiment and explore their intimacy.

❀ think i need someone older by @redcherrykook

(S, F ~2k words) older Boyfriend JK, inexperienced reader

Summary: You decide it’s time to lose your virginity with your older boyfriend. 

❀ No Pressure by @voitier

(S, 2k words) Boyfriend JK, inexperienced reader 

Summary: your angel of a boyfriend always respected your wishes and boundaries. but what happens when you feel your resolutions slowly crumble to the ground?

❀ Hold on to me by @kooklovee

(S, A, 11k words) Ceo Husband JK, Wife Reader, Hurt/Comfort

Summary: Your husband forgets your second anniversary. What starts as disappointment and heartbreak soon spirals into doubt- about your love, your marriage & whether he even sees you anymore. But when Jungkook realizes his mistake, he’s willing to do anything to prove that his love has never wavered

❀ Handle with Care by @dreamersparacosm

(S, ~3k words) Blue-collar electrician JK, neighbor reader, 

Summary: in which your landlord sends an electrician to fix your power, and you end up learning firsthand the magic of blue collar dick.

♥︎ roommates to lovers by @ohhowjooniewept

(S,A,F, ~13k words) roommates JK to lovers

Summary: in which your roommate is awfully yearning for you. Note: this was my first read from this author and oh my gosh they are such amazing writers. I've never enjoyed anyone's reading as much as I did with this author. PLEASE check them out.

♥︎ Ex’s to lovers by @ohhowjooniewept

(S,A,F, ~12k words) ex’s to lovers

Summary: in which your stupid hot tattoo artist ex tries to win you back

♥︎ Sacred Desires by @ggukiebar

(S, 20.6k words) priest JK, sinful reader

Summary: desperate to see if a man devoted to god will unravel, you test his faith with your sweet, deceptive innocence—seducing fr. jeon until his devotion no longer belongs to god…but to you. Note: this is one of my latest read and when I tell you the way I was fucking gagged after this read… yeah go read it. 

SERIES 

 ♥︎ Entangled by @caelesjjk

(S, 3 Chapters, on haitus) spidey JK, venom taehyung, love triangle

Summary: in which your boyfriend is Spiderman and has been a bit too busy saving the world from the latest catastrophe caused by Venom. 

 ♥︎ Open Arms by @doomgurlficss

(F, 13 chapters) Single Dad JK, Gentle Caretaker reader, Slow burn

Summary: After a devastating loss, Jungkook is left to raise his newborn daughter alone—and barely holding it together. Desperate for help, he hires a live-in caretaker: you. Your job is to care for the baby, but it doesn’t take long to see Jungkook needs just as much healing. And sometimes, love finds its way in through the cracks. Note: ugh fluff, fluff FLUFF, tension, tension TENSION! Slow BURNN!

❀ Bound by Vows by @gukcnt

(A,F,S, 14 chapters, Ongoing) Rich Ceo JK, Shy reader, arranged marriage, slow burn, strangers to lovers

Summary: your world crumbles when you're forced into a marriage with jeon jungkook, a man whose commanding presence terrifies you, reminding you of your father's cruelty. yet beneath his coldness, jungkook’s unexpected kindness stirs a spark of hope, making you question everything you fear. your life together starts—an emotional journey of two hearts seeking comfort, healing and a chance at love

DRABBLES: Short on time? Read my favs on the go! (1k or less) 

❀ 19:14pm by @yehetbitchtrash (S)

❀ Inexperienced by @1kook (S)

❀ Overstimulated by @1kook (S)

❀ Did somone say DILF JK? by @lavishedinjimin (S)

❀ Cum Play by @your-daily-biaswrecking (S)

♥ smut warnings- oral (m) receiving, sub- Dom implied, kissing, grinding, straddling, blowjobs, hand job, needy Jungkook, nipple sucking, hair pulling, edging, teasing, cursing, I think that's all.

You always knew Jungkook was a very attractive man, since before you two went to college and decided to get an apartment together. But right now, seeing him getting ready for his date with his hair down, loose but fitted black shirt, and black jeans is killing you. You've tried not to lust over your own best friend, but you're just a girl. You may or may not have had days wondering how it would be to have Jungkook as yours. It's a risk you're not against taking. I mean, he's attractive, funny, sweet, and he’s really the only man you actually trust.

Getting out of your lustful thoughts, you open the fridge and decide to cook something to eat.

"Hey, which shirt looks better?” you hear Jungkook ask you as you're looking in the fridge.

Turning, you see him wearing a black turtleneck that hugs his body perfectly.

“Fuck,” you say under your breath, trying not to stare too hard. clearing your throat, “Uh, uhm, either one looks great." You announce turning away from the delicious sight.

"Y/N… help me. " I want to actually look good for once,” he says, slightly annoyed by your answer.

Hearing him, you turn around and push your lust to the side. "Jungkook, you always look good no matter what you're doing. But if you want my advice, I'd say, both enunciate your features well, but it's hot outside, and I think you'll burn to death in the turtleneck.” Hearing what you said, Jungkook nods, disregarding your compliment, and puts on the loose shirt again.

Huffing to himself, he walks over to you, who has now finished cooking your dinner and is eating at the kitchen island.

"You promise I look good?” he asks you seriously this time, anxiety eating away at him.

  "You look beautiful,” you say sincerely, meeting his gaze.  Jungkook goes pink. "Jesus, now I'm shy,” he says, laughing and trying to hide himself. You laugh at his cuteness and presume eating.

Hours have passed since Jungkook asked you for advice. He’s since left the apartment to go on his date. Trying to convince yourself that you're not bothered. You decide to leave the apartment and head to the library to do some studying. Getting lost in your homework; you don't even realize that 3 hours have passed since you last left. Checking the time and seeing it's 12 Am, you decide it's time for you to head back to the apartment.

 Opening the door to your shared apartment, you're greeted with pitch-black and no sign of life. Being slightly confused, you take off your jacket and shoes at the door and head towards Jungkook's room. You were about to put your fist to the wood until you heard something that sounded like sniffing. Being even more confused, you knock on his door softly.

“Kookie, are you in there? Can I come in?” you ask. On the other side of the door, you hear a muffled “mmhm,” taking that as a yes and pushing his bedroom door open.

When you do, you're presented with Jungkook sitting on his bed with his head down, hair messed up, and a tear-stained face.  Walking over to sit down beside him. You question,

“What's bothering you, Kookie?”, looking at him while he looks down at himself.

“I just—I fuck up everything, Y/N…” he breathes. “I don't know what happened; she and I planned this out 2 weeks ago,” he sniffles. “We were going to go to her favorite restaurant since she is a very picky eater, and I wanted her to enjoy her food. I texted her this morning and 2 days ago, making sure the plan was still on. She was so positive and had nothing indicating that she'd ghost me.

He expresses, frustratedly, “I don't fucking understand why every time I find somebody I'm interested in; they play with me… I know I'm not the best-looking guy out there, but I am not an asshole…” He sighs, trying not to tear up.

"Am I ugly?” he says more to himself before laughing in disbelief. “Must be ugly, you can't even get a girlfriend, Jungkook. Of course you're ug-”

“Jungkook, shut the fuck up,” you raise your voice, interrupting his spiral.

“Look, I know how hard it's been for you to get into a relationship,"

remembering all the times Jungkook has been in this exact position with different women who did him dirty.

“But you are not ugly, Jungkook. If anything, those women who can't see how awesome you are. They are the ugly ones. You're smart, handsome, sweet, and funny; you're the full package, Jungkook. You're nothing less than that.’

You say to him, expecting him to look at you, but when he doesn't move an inch, you decide to cradle his face in your palm, forcing him to meet your eyes.

When he does his big doe orbs, you love so much are filled with hurt and confusion, making you weak. "You. Are. Not. The. Issue,” you say to him, leering into his eyes, making sure he sees that you're serious. Jungkook meets yours. Gazing at you like his life depends on it.

‘Do you really mean that?" Jungkook exclaims. His voice dropped a little deeper.

“Of course, Koo—“

Before you can finish what, you were saying, Jungkook cuts you off with a slow kiss. Being surprised you don't reciprocate immediately, but once you realize what is happening, you kiss him back. The kiss continues to be innocent until Jungkook's tongue slips out, trying to deepen it. Starting to get more heated when you open your mouth, allowing him entrance. Running your hands through his hair as you straddle him. Hips planted right onto his thighs.

Not breaking the kiss, Jungkook lets his hand wander and caress your waist, waiting for your approval to do more. Breaking it so he can breathe, Jungkook looks at you with so much fire in his eyes, you feel it burning inside you.

" Can I touch you?” he needily asks, biting his lip after. Nodding, you go to kiss him again. 

He hums into the kiss and runs his hand under your shirt fondling with your bra.

“Let me take this off,” he says against your lips, playing with your bra clasp.

"Do whatever you want Koo” you respond out of breath.

Jungkook grabs your shirt pulling over your head

“You're so fucking hot,” he says. Before diving into your neck, placing hot kisses.

He smiles against your skin and travels down your chest to your boobs, sucking them through your bra.  Whining feeling yourself gets wetter and wetter with each passing minute.

‘Kookie…stop teasing, please," you moan desperately. 

He gladly listens and takes his arm around you to unclasp your bra. Once he does, he doesn't hesitate to put his mouth against your right nipple, sucking and lulling around it like it's a lollipop. Dropping your head on his shoulder, you start grinding down on his obvious bulge. Jungkook's breath catches at the feeling moaning against your skin.

“I need to taste you,” he murmurs. Pulling away from his neck, you regard him.

“As much as I want that,” you say, slowly climbing off him to slide in between his legs. 

“I think you need some reassurance, Koo”. 

“Fuck” Jungkook whispers under his breath watching as you Pull his pants and boxers down, his dick flings out standing hard and long precum leaking from it.

He sighs in relief, looking at you as you wrap your hand around his dick, giving it a long lick from the base to the tip. His head immediately rolls back, and his hand goes to your head, just sitting there, not pushing. You wrap your lips around his tip and suck hard, swirling your tongue around it before slipping your tongue through his slit. He moans out at the feeling.

‘Y/nnnnnnn,” he drags out.

You answer around him, humming and pushing him deeper inside your mouth until he hits the back of your throat. Gagging around him, you pull away for a split second and do it repeatedly, pushing him deeper each time.

‘’Ahh,’ he moans out, head looking towards the ceiling, trying so hard not to push your head further.

Once you Pull off his dick and go for his balls, sucking and licking them. He couldn't stop himself from moaning uncontrollably at the feeling.

Stuttering, he says, ‘B-baby, I'm going to cum if you don't stop,’ looking down at you with his needy doe eyes.

You off, jerking him off.

“I'm not stopping until you realize how perfect you are.”

He moans in response as you sink deeper onto him until your nose touches his pelvis. He gets overwhelmed with how good you feel and accidentally rocks into your mouth, making you gag and pull off.

‘Shit, I'm sorry, pretty,’ Jungkook says, looking down at you, coddling your face with his hand.

‘It's okay, handsome,’

he shyly smiles at your compliment before you go back down on him. Picking up your pace, making him hit your throat. He outright moans at the feeling, chanting,

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Feeling more and more precum seep out into your mouth, you can tell he's getting closer to his release. Still not being pleased with him, you hop off the second you hear his moans increase in pitch, indicating he's about to come. He whines submissively.

‘Why'd you stop?’ breathlessly and hungry for a release.

"Say you're handsome,’ you tell him, jerking him off and looking up at him with dominance.

He groans at your words, feeling his dick get sensitive to touch because of the edging.

“Do I have to???” he cries out. 

Shrugging, you pull your hand away altogether: “Not unless you want to come,” you tell him. 

‘Fuuuck, fine…… ‘I'm handsome,’ Jungkook says not convincingly.

You start rubbing him again, but not how you know he wants you to. He groans in annoyance. ‘I’m handsome,’ he says again with a little bit more trust, but not enough.

"Not convincing me, kookie,” you apprise.

‘I'm handsome, I'm handsome, I'm handsome,’ he chants,

making you smile as you push him into your mouth for the last time, sucking him hard until he falls back onto the bed, eyes roll back, back arched as he comes in your mouth. He comes so much and so hard that his veins in his arms pop out. You continue to suck him off through his orgasm until he physically begs you to stop because he's too overstimulated.

  Popping off him and licking your lips, you sit back with your hands behind you, looking at him. Jungkook is breathing heavily, eyes blown out, looking at you sitting there so innocent and pretty, like you didn't just make him see God himself. He huffs in disbelief.

“You're an evil lady," he jokes.

Laughing alongside you. He leans forward, pulling you onto his bed, making you rest with him. He grabs his blankets and pulls them over both of you. Holding you tight with your face buried into his chest. 

Breath evening out, date long forgotten. You and your best friend end up falling asleep in each other's arms. Legs tangled together, snoring like no other.

❣The End