Tags: explicit sexual content, switch!jungkook🤤, the duality is crazy, blowjob, curvy dick, she calls herself his fuck toy, no gagging(period), slapping her face with his COWK, hes ROUGHHCHFJJD(a lil bit), he just slapped her face omg, tears, cum swallowing
Mdni 18+
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.
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SUMMARY -> in which jeon jungkook is staying in your city to film a show. he is at your hotel, on the floor you are assigned to clean.
WORDS -> 6.8k
WARNINGS -> jungkook x female reader, idol!jungkook x maid!reader, yearner!jungkook, yandere!jungkook, possesive!jungkook, sub!jungkook, soft dom!reader, unprotected sex, hair pulling
now playing: please - bts˚.⋆♪
jungkook was tired. lonely. bored. a lot of things he shouldn’t be feeling in the thick of his group’s hiatus. he thought his time away from promotions, constant studio sessions and public appearances would allow him to discover himself, but all he has discovered is how he really doesn’t have anyone to talk to.
there was a lingering, bone-deep loneliness that permeated throughout his body. he yearned for any form of real connection that asked nothing from him.
then you came into his life.
“room service!” you called from the other side of the door, followed by a polite knock.
the first thing he noticed was your eyes, filled with the indifference of being around someone you didn’t know.
he wasn’t jeon jungkook, maknae of bts to you.
he was just some guy.
and somehow, that made his heart race with excitement.
“mr. jeon?” you stood there, silver breakfast platter in hand.
the second thing he noticed was that you were beautiful, his heart skipping a beat when your wide eyes made contact with his.
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
a young man returns to a small town he hasn't seen in years, and a house he hasn't lived in since before the last president was born, only to find that a stray cat has given birth to kittens in his closet.
pairing: vampire!jeongguk x nerdy f veterinarian!reader (with a special interest in the science and biology aspect of the supernatural lol)
genre: sorta scifi-ish, fluff, minor angst, some smut later on
You spend the rest of the evening in front of the TV, your notebooks and a whole gaggle of pencils laid out on the coffee table before you. Whatever notes you manage to take during your meetings with Jeongguk aren't exactly as neat as you'd prefer—or even entirely legible, if you're being honest. But now, alone on the floor in your apartment with the news on in the background, you take the time to go through your scribbles and transfer them neatly into your Nice Notebook, the one that also contains all your drawings.
It takes you an hour, mostly because you keep going back and forth regarding the layout, but when everything's transferred, you can't help but grab your favorite graphite pencil. It glides over a fresh page, depicting something you've had a hard time letting go since you saw it.
Another hour, maybe one and a half, and they're there: Jeongguk's laser-focused black eyes. Not pictured: the paperclip.
You keep going, and not long after, the next page contains a profile portrayal of his upper teeth. The central incisor, the lateral one, and then the long, thin, clearly superhuman canine. Behind it, you can glimpse the regular canine.
At nine-thirty pm, you're unlocking the heavy door, peering around carefully. There are no inpatient animals tonight, meaning the clinic should be entirely empty. Also meaning: you have no business inside the building.
Thus, it's dark as you enter, and you only turn on what light you absolutely need as to not risk being found out if any of your colleagues were to drive past—or God forbid, return to retrieve something forgotten—and see the place lit. Walking through the quiet corridors, you note that you have approximately twenty-five minutes to prepare.
At five minutes to ten, your phone dings. Since your outfit for once consists of something other than scrubs, you grab the device from your jean pocket to read the text displayed on the screen.
Jeon Jeongguk: I'm here
You don't reply, just stand from the chair you've been sitting on to note down some things, and head toward the entrance.
Like so many times before, you spot the tall, dark shape waiting just outside the door as soon as you enter the reception area, your heart skipping an excited beat.
With quick fingers, you unlock the door, and then you're peering up at him.
"Hi," you greet, backing up and watching as he steps inside, a tiny gust of wind accompanying him and making goosebumps rise on your arms.
He's wearing black again. A black leather jacket over a black shirt, and dark-wash jeans of the looser kind.
"Hi," he echoes, smiling down at you. His hair is windswept, and you swear his eyes might be even darker than last time you saw him.
You'd say you're quite a talented artist, but God, your drawing of his eyes is nothing compared to the real thing. You almost want to ask him whether all vampires are beautiful because you do remember his friends at the bar, and they were gorgeous as well.
"This way," you say, turning around.
Wordlessly, Jeongguk follows as you lead the way back to the room where he first apologized with the empty crate. Should someone, for some reason, visit the clinic, you'll be safest from discovery hidden away in the farthest room.
Keeping a distance of around a meter or so, Jeongguk's boots thump heavily against the floor as he trails behind you, a sound you're almost starting to find comfort in.
The door to the exam room is open, just like you left it, the light from inside pouring out into the otherwise dark hallway. You enter, shutting the door behind you when Jeongguk's through as well. You're not surprised to see him take his usual spot on the exam table, removing his jacket and folding it to lay beside him.
"You know, you can say no to this, right?" you ask, grabbing the sterile sheet of supplies you've prepared from the counter and placing it on the table next to him.
"It's fine. Consider it my apology for scaring you," he smiles warmly at you.
You return his gesture, pulling on some nitrile gloves.
"I'm very grateful. This is like…." you don't even know what to say as you drag the chair closer to him with your foot, sitting down and grabbing an antiseptic wipe to wipe down the inside of the elbow he wordlessly offers you. His skin is warm, radiating heat even through the gloves. "I feel like I'm the vampire, essentially vibrating at the thought of your blood."
He laughs at that, a lovely deep sound that goes straight to your heart.
"Well, I definitely don't need a tourniquet," you then mumble as you focus on his thick arm, pressing two fingers to the biggest vein and feeling it react almost like that of a human. It does give under pressure—but much less than a human's—quickly filling back up when you let go.
"Do you think this will work?" you ask, grabbing a needle and holding it up for him to see. It's one designed for the largest of dogs; the next step up in strength from a human grade needle.
"I don't know? I've never had my blood drawn."
Your eyes widen. "Really?"
You guess it makes sense, but it's still a surprise to hear.
"Yeah. Not really any use for it. And it wasn't really a thing when I was human."
"You sure you want to?"
"Yeah. How bad can it be? I'm not scared of pain or anything."
"Okay. Then I'll try with this one. It's usually a straight forward process, especially with veins like yours when you don't have to search for them. Or in my case, shave and search for them while holding the patient still."
Jeongguk grins.
"I'll try sticking you, and if it works, then I'll fill a few of these," you nod toward the vials on the blue sheet. "When I'm done, I'll remove the needle."
"Sounds good."
"Great."
Biting your lip, you focus on the needle as you angle it properly against the thick vein. You can't tell if Jeongguk is looking at your hands or your face, but you try not to think about his eyes on you.
Even though you've established that his skin doesn't feel too different from a human's besides the temperature, the needle is met with a surprising amount of resistance.
"Tell me if you want me to stop, okay?" you mumble, a little worried by the amount of pressure you're slowly forced to apply. You really don't want to accidentally stab him if his skin suddenly gives way.
Jeongguk only hums, clearly not that bothered. Slowly and very, very carefully, you increase the pressure, and then, the needle finally pierces through.
Relieved, you turn to the gathered equipment, reaching for some tape to fasten the needle against his skin, and then you're grabbing the first vial, attaching it.
Immediately, there's blood. It trickles in quicker than it would for an animal, or how you've seen your own blood do whenever you've had it drawn, and when you lean in, you notice that it's almost black. The gears inside your head are turning as you consider what it might mean. There's still a slight hint of red—a very dark red, which makes you wonder if his red blood cells are simply so tightly packed that—
Barely having time to finish the thought, you have to reach for the next vial, seeing the current one practically already filled to the brim.
Removing the full vial, you attach the new one, glancing up at his face when you're done. "Feeling okay?"
He nods and smiles softly, as if he realizes your (most likely very unnecessary) words are meant to be caring and not infantilizing.
"God, it smells of iron." You point out, blinking in surprise.
Jeongguk laughs. "Yeah. The iron also makes it a lot darker than human blood."
"I can see that," you say, replacing the second vial with the third and last one. "It looks like it's slightly more… viscous too," you comment, turning that second vial upside down. As you do, the blood pools at the new bottom, leaving a coat of dark red behind. Although it moves slower, its consistency is far from that of syrup; just a tiny bit less watery than your own blood.
"What are you going to do with them?"
"I'm bringing them home with me just so that no one sees them. I'll be looking at… Well, whatever I can see. Usually, putting a drop of blood under a microscope will let you see the red and white blood cells—which carry oxygen and keep one's immune system working, respectively—and then the platelets and plasma.
"Platelets can show things like how quick the body can heal a wound and plasma is basically the liquid that holds the proteins and electrolytes. So I'll be looking at shapes, amounts, and behaviors of the cells. Other than that, I can't really plan ahead because I have no idea what I'll see."
He nods, and you remove the last vial, placing it next to the other two on the sheet beside him. Giving him a quick warning, you then swiftly remove the needle, prepared to wipe any escaping blood with a bit of gauze. But there isn't any; not even a tiny pink dot remains as evidence.
"Uh…" you continue, trying to find your thoughts again as you peer between his flawless skin and the needle you definitely know you just pulled out. "Right… And if I can manage to do it without anyone noticing, I'd also love to analyze some of your blood here at the lab.
"I won't be able to look at the proteins themselves with my microscope at home, but I am particularly curious about them and why you can be so warm without the proteins in your blood essentially cooking. And also whether the lead poisoning you described has left any visible traces. And, of course, to see just how much iron is in your blood and whatnot."
You stand up, disposing the needle in the sharps container and remove the gloves to throw them in the trash. When you're done, you grasp two of the three vials from the table, backing toward the door. "I'll be right back, I'm just gonna put these in the centrifuge."
"Alright."
The dark hallways don't pose a problem for you, knowing every door and every turn like the back of your hand. Therefore, it doesn't take you more than a minute or two to locate the lab with the desktop centrifuge, popping the two vials in and starting the machine. It comes to life with a hum, and you leave the room to let it work in peace.
When you return to the exam room, Jeongguk is standing in front of the ultrasound machine you rolled into a corner prior to his arrival. It's an older model, bulky and ancient compared to the portable ones you take out into the field.
While he's watching that, you're watching him, having an embarrassingly hard time tearing your eyes from his wide, muscular back. And even though you just got to sit eye to eye with his veins, your gaze trails those veins spanning the back of his forearms almost hungrily. God, you can't remember the last time you had a crush like this. Wait, what?
"You wanted to use this one, right?" Jeongguk interrupts your thoughts as he gestures toward the machine, still inspecting it curiously.
"Yeah…" you confirm. He keeps looking at the machine as you retrieve the rest of the blood draw supplies, setting them on the counter along with the third vial; the one you're keeping un-centrifuged for your microscope at home.
"…But what?" he asks when he notices the slight hesitancy, looking back at you to see you leaning back against the counter, crossing your arms and biting your lip as you think.
"Well… your heart was a little hard to hear with the stethoscope, and considering everything—like how strong you evidently are—I'm just wondering if… maybe your muscles are somehow so dense that it's harder for sound to penetrate them?"
"Which would… make it difficult to see anything on an ultrasound as well?" he fills in.
Momentarily, your eyes lose their focus, staring into nothing but the air. "Realistically, they should still be soft enough to ultrasound 'cause, you know… they're not solid, but that bad boy over there is getting up there in age," you nod toward the ultrasound machine. "The portable one is with Yoongi, who's on call."
Jeongguk hums, dark eyes watching you and patiently waiting for your decision.
A thought hits you.
"Would you—" you start, gesturing toward the exam table before you have time to really consider whether your spontaneous idea will help or not. Unbothered, Jeongguk returns to his seated spot.
You approach, looking at his arm (entirely professional this time). You're curious about his muscles, and well, the arm he used to lift the car with is as good as any.
"Do you mind if I…?" you reach carefully for him.
He shakes his head, lifting his arm slightly toward you. You grasp it by the elbow as you consider where to start. God, it never stops surprising you how warm he is.
"Okay, relax," you mumble.
Besides warm like a radiator, his arm is so incredibly heavy, almost to the point where you lose your grip on it when he obeys your request and lets it go limp. Adjusting the hand under his elbow for support, you move the other to the inside of that same joint. All the while, you feel his curious gaze on you as you get to work.
"Not sore?" you ask, referring to how you just stuck a needle into that same spot.
"No. What are you searching for?" he asks, eyes on your fingers as you work them as gently as you can into the crease of his elbow.
"Your distal biceps tendon. Can you do this for me real quick? Make a fist and flex your arm, just a small bend at the elbow?"
He copies your brief demonstration, the contrast between your flexed arms almost comical. Still, it works, and you feel the tendon pop out under your thumb, its thickness and strength very obvious. The question is only: to what extent?
Using both hands again, you move one up his semi-flexed, very impressive biceps, and you try your best to trace the underlying anatomy, your eyes focused on the wall behind him. He's… firm. That's the best way you can describe him. Warm and firm.
"Can I fold this up?" you ask, tugging a little on the sleeve of his t-shirt in order to get to his shoulder.
"Yeah. Or I can just—?"
You take a step back when he grabs the shirt by the back of his neck and yanks it off.
"Yeah. Or that," you smile, trying not to stare at his golden chest. He just has to have your absolutely favorite body type, doesn't he? Wide shoulders, overall muscular but without too much, stringy definition. And that itty-bitty waist, complete with two tiny skin rolls as he sits? Not to mention the veins, but those practically never leave your mind anyway, spanning his hands and running all the way up his shoulders, even. And that's just his body; his face is even more gorgeous.
Oblivious to your infatuated thoughts—or maybe not, but you're not even going to consider that—he puts the shirt beside him, once more offering you his arm.
"Flexed? Or relaxed?"
"Relaxed. I'm just trying to locate some of your tendons and see if, for any reason, I wouldn't be able to ultrasound them."
"What would that reason be?"
"Not sure," you shrug, putting your hands back on his upper arm. "Maybe they're covered by super dense muscle? Maybe you have bone-plated armor covering weak spots like the crease of your elbows? Actually, nevermind; I wouldn't have been able to draw your blood if that were the case, but you get my point."
He grins, amused, eyes focused on your hands again as you start to move them, feeling the top of his shoulder.
"The two biceps heads go here," you explain, pressing your thumb near the front of his shoulder joint and your middle finger just a bit higher and inward. "Should be able to see them on the ultrasound as well. And the muscle, itself… It's definitely soft when relaxed," you murmur, running both hands down his relaxed arm again, palpating the thick tissue.
"While you have your shirt off… Can I..?" Slowly, you let go of his arm, pointing to his side.
"Yeah, go ahead. Whatever you want."
You laugh quietly at his complete compliance. "I appreciate it. Your sacrifice for science."
He chuckles too, moving his arm out of the way as you pull the chair closer with your foot again, sitting down. With your right hand, you feel his side, where multiple layers of muscle cover his ribs.
"I heard your heart better from here, and… while your serratus anterior is quite dense and strong—yeah, I can barely feel your ribs under these muscles—those are probably the real problem," you nod toward his pecs. "But I think I'll be able to see your heart as well, unless there's an internal aspect causing issues. If I can get a probe between your ribs, that is."
"Between them?" he lifts an eyebrow.
"I'm not gonna jam something between them or anything," you're quick to explain, placing two fingers against his side, in the space between two ribs. "I'll put the probe here in an intercostal space, against your skin, and hopefully the sound waves make it between the ribs."
"Hm," he leans back on his arms, and you remove your hand from his skin. "Well, you're welcome to try whatever you want."
Why does he always have to say things like that? Why?! Simply pretending like he said something that didn't make your chest warm, you offer a grateful smile and stand up.
The ultrasound machine squeaks as you roll it over to where you want it, positioning it next to the exam table.
"Do I lie down? People lie down for these, don't they?"
Walking over to the light switches, you flick one of the two main ceiling lights off. "You can, but it might not be very comfortable—"
Turning, you see him already flat on his back, his lower legs hanging freely off the edge and toward the floor.
"It's not so bad," he comments, earnestly.
"Heart this way, though, please," you smile as you approach, even more so when he sits up to lie the other way.
"Is there a reason you turned the lights off? Or just for coziness?"
You laugh. As if you—trying so hard to be professional in the most unprofessional situation ever—would turn the lights off for 'coziness.'
"It makes it easier to see the screen. These old screens aren't as powerful as the new ones."
Spending a moment in silence going through the probes available, you then settle for one and reach for the gel on the little tray.
"This can be a little cold," you warn, squeezing an appropriate amount onto the probe.
He doesn't say anything, his eyes focused on the ceiling.
"I'll start with your heart," you add, sitting down and adjusting the long white cable attached to the probe.
But then you realize that his arm is in the way. "Could you… put your arm either above or under your head?"
"Sure," he agrees calmly, lifting his arm and putting his hand under his head. It gives you a whole new angle of not only his thick and defined arm but his side and abdomen as well. Naturally, your eyes do a quick scan. There's a dark tuft of hair growing in his armpit, something you find unreasonably attractive.
Jeongguk doesn't react when you put the gelled-up probe to his pec. Using your left hand to angle it against his skin, you push the old, worn-down buttons on the machine's small desk with your right, trying to find not only the best angles but also settings.
You mutter your slight frustration when the display merely shows a foggy outline of a mass. Even though this particular machine still performs well enough on animals, it might just have met its match in Jeongguk's pectorals.
"Try to relax as much as possible for me, okay?" you say, eyes locked onto the screen as you hope a slightly softer muscle will be easier to see through.
It doesn't work though, and you're forced to give up. But only after another few minutes of double checking angles and settings, of course; you don't admit defeat that easily.
Jeongguk lets you work in silence. It's comfortable and calm, not awkward in the slightest. He breathes slowly and evenly, taking the odd deep breath when you ask him again to please do his best to relax as much as possible.
Moving the probe to his abdomen, right below the junction of his ribs as you try to tilt it up and underneath them, you spot something.
"Well, your liver looks rather… normal," you state quietly, watching the organ show up on screen like that of any human. At least as far as you know; you don't do ultrasounds on humans, but there shouldn't be that much of a difference.
"Oh—and there's your heart."
Jeongguk turns his head, and the movement has you losing the angle. "Wait. Hold on, lie still; I'll show you."
He keeps his head turned, his eyes warming your face as you adjust the probe, trying to find the image again. It takes you a few seconds, and then you feel yourself light up.
"Look," you say, carefully turning the machine to face him while trying not to move the probe. "It's not the best image, and it's from below, but there it is."
It's fascinating, the small, grainy glimpse of the powerful organ that graces the screen. It beats just like you've heard it, slowly, every contraction precise. Even watching it, a sense of calm washes over you. There's no rush; it does what it's done since long before you were born and what it will continue to do for however long Jeongguk lives. Another few centuries? Millennia?
"Cool."
You chuckle. Jeongguk grins youthfully when you meet his gaze. Of course, he's not as impressed by his own heart, maybe more so the technology that actually lets him see it.
"Yeah. And even though the image is kinda… meh, look here," you trace the faint outline of the heart wall with your finger. "See how thick it is?"
"Uh…" he watches but doesn't seem to quite understand your fascination.
"Okay, hold on," you say, removing the probe from him, and with a little more gel on the top of it, you grab the lower hem of your shirt and move the probe underneath. It doesn't take you nearly as long to find the corresponding angle on yourself—your abs aren't made of steel…—and there it is, only sharper and clearer.
"Do you see the difference? The walls of your heart—the muscle itself—are much thicker than mine," you trace the same shape on your own visualized heart; almost pathetically small compared to Jeongguk's. Not only that, but it beats fast, contracting quickly as if you're in the middle of a marathon. The contrast is almost absurd.
"Yeah," he smiles. "Seems like you're excited about something?"
You huff and remove the probe from your skin, watching the screen go dark. "Mean. And here I was going to show you my condition."
He tilts his head, his curiosity having lost that teasing edge, the tone bordering on worried. "You have a condition?"
"Kinda."
"Well, show me."
You give him the sternest look you can muster.
"I'll be nice, I promise."
"Fine."
Luckily, the shirt you chose to wear today is of the looser, boxier kind, allowing you to slide the probe back under it and against your side. You breathe slowly, trying to calm your heart at least a fraction.
Jeongguk sits up, dark eyes glued to the sight of your beating heart. It thumps evenly—if only faster than his—until it doesn't.
"Wait, that beat was much quicker?"
"Yeah."
"Is that not… dangerous?"
"Keep looking."
He returns his focus to the screen, watching intently. "It happened again. Your rhythm isn't even like mine."
"No. I have 'regular irregularities,'" you explain softly. "It's not dangerous since the rhythm doesn't deviate. Or at least from what's normal for me. It's more like a little quirk."
He bites his lip, and, for a long second, looks at you.
"Can I feel?"
"Feel?"
"Your pulse."
"Uh," you start, more surprised than unwilling. "Sure."
Before you know it, he's reaching his large hand out, gently grasping your neck—the back of it, at least—and with his thumb on your artery, immediately finds your pulse. You guess that's maybe even more of his expertise than it is yours, so you don't bother reminding him that it's generally best to feel for someone's pulse with a finger other than the thumb, which has its own pulse, easily confused with the subject's.
You try desperately to calm your poor heart, willing yourself to breathe slowly as every thump beats against his thumb.
"Relax," he mumbles.
"Be nice—"
"I didn't imply anything," he defends. "I think I have yet to meet even one human whose heart doesn't race when a vampire feels for their pulse. It's instinctual."
Maybe also because you're hot, you almost want to say.
It's only because he's staring into the air as he feels your pulse that you manage to lower it even slightly. A moment passes. And then another; the room enveloped in a thick silence, Jeongguk's warm hand still around the back of your neck, and his thumb on your carotid artery.
"Interesting. I'm not… new to wacky heartbeats, but I don't think I've ever felt one that's… regularly irregular."
He lets go of your neck, and you look at him. "Well, do you listen often? To someone who's not scared you'll eat them?"
"No, not really. Not that I eat humans, cause I don't—you saw the powdered blood I use—I just don't really listen to heartbeats," he explains, which has you nearly rolling your eyes. It's sweet, how he still really doesn't want you to misinterpret him. "Do you feel anything? Is it noticeable?"
"No, I don't feel it," you answer. "I've probably always had it. It's just the rhythm my heart has."
He hums, accepting your answer before he lowers his gaze to the probe in your hand. "…You're not done with me, are you?"
You grin. "No."
Admitting defeat with a smile of his own, he lies back down. You reach for the gel again, turning the screen back.
"Arm up, please."
He lifts his arm and tucks his hand under his head again. This time, you touch the probe to his side, trying to find another view of his heart.
Just like you hoped, a few moments of quiet searching later, and you have the clearest side view of his heart yet. The resolution still leaves quite a lot to be desired, but you're grateful nonetheless, your fingers tapping the buttons to activate the color Doppler mode.
"Do you want to see more? How your heart moves your blood?" you ask, smiling brightly but realizing that far from everyone is as nerdy as you.
"Sure," he answers. Having learned from last time, he doesn't move a muscle, instead waiting patiently for you to turn the screen toward him.
"So, this setting visualizes the blood flow as colors; red is the blood coming toward the probe. Blue is the blood going away from it."
"That's interesting."
"You think so?" you ask. You wouldn't be surprised if he's mostly pretending to be polite.
"I mean, yeah? It doesn't really tell me much, but it's fascinating to see. And I can tell that it makes you happy."
You turn the screen back, eyes locked onto his grainy, slightly foggy heart. With every slow beat, a portion of the screen lights up in red, then blue. You think that's when another realization hits you; not one that douses you in ice water, whispering that you're prey in the presence of a predator, but a calm excitement that… you found something. You found something amazing, something out of this world, and for all you know, you're one of few to ever have a heart like this under your ultrasound probe.
Calm yet powerful like nothing else, his heart moves what must be an immense amount of blood with every contraction.
"Have you ever had your blood pressure taken?" you mumble, pressing another button on the control pad.
"No. It's the tube that goes around your arm, right?"
Nodding, you turn your head to watch him. Or more specifically, his arm. "I'd love to measure yours," you admit almost longingly. "But we don't have any cuffs here that would fit you. We typically measure a horse's blood pressure around the base of their tail, so that's just a human cuff, but it's in the field bag with Yoongi. The canine cuffs we have here won't even clear your forearm."
"Well, if you find a way…" he says, still watching you with that calm, slightly curious look.
You return your attention to the screen, taking the chance to see Jeongguk's heart from every angle possible.
Ultrasonography is a skill learned through time and experience: lots of it. Still doesn't mean it's easy for you or that you can just slide the probe around willy-nilly and find what you're looking for simply because you've got hundreds of them under your belt. You need a light yet stable hand and the knowledge of where to go. Also a bit of luck.
"Do you need me conscious?" Jeongguk's low voice asks after a few more minutes. "Cause I might fall asleep."
"It's that boring?" You look at him, endeared and smiling. "Wait. You sleep?"
You're not sure why you're so surprised, staring at him like he just told you he can levitate. It would be exponentially weirder if he didn't sleep; it just never crossed your mind that he would. He chuckles.
"Yeah. It's not boring, it's just that I'm lying down, in a quiet and dark room. That… touch is pretty soothing, and you keep ordering me to relax."
You try not to blush, removing the probe from his skin and looking around for the tissues to remove the gel. "Do you want to stop? Or at least continue another day?"
"No. I don't mind," he yawns. "Continue. Test me, stick me, feel me up; I don't mind."
You pause, forehead creasing. "While you sleep?"
"Yeah? Just a warning, I sleep pretty heavily. If you need me awake, just… shake me. I'll wake up sooner or later."
"Okay," you snicker. That is such an apex predator advantage. No one is going to eat you, so why bother be on guard?
Not even five minutes later, he's out; his eyes closed and his breaths slow and even. Not entirely satisfied, you're still looking at the blood flow from his heart on the monitor, moving the probe around ever so slightly.
When you were in university, your class got to visit a zoo. The on-staff veterinarian demonstrated how they sedate their animals—large predators, mostly—by dart, and then they opened the enclosures and let you all inside. You particularly remember the lion, who they suspected had torn a ligament, and the brown bear requiring dental work.
It's a feeling like no other, working on a sleeping predator—the sleeping bear, quite literally—and with your elevated heartbeat, hoping to God they don't wake up before you're done and safely outside.
Working on Jeongguk while he sleeps feels similar in ways you can't really explain. While he's not a 200 kg lion, he's huge, lying on the table in front of you with his legs hanging down. And even if you're not actually scared that he'll wake up because you don't think he'll eat you, it's there regardless; the deep, subconscious knowledge that everything he lets you do to him, even if it's essentially whatever you want, is on his terms and his terms alone.
So while the smallest change in Jeongguk's breathing doesn't scare you shitless like the tiny groan the lion let out as you touched its paw, you're still aware of it.
Twenty minutes later, when you suspect you've seen everything the machine can show you of his heart, you carefully wipe the gel from his chest and move toward his abdomen. The moment you put the probe to his skin again, you wait, eyes on his face and awaiting a reaction of some kind, but there's nothing.
Considering his words of consent, you continue, moving the probe around to locate his organs. In humans and most animals, the intestines are always—to some extent—noisy. Food, liquid, and gas are constantly processed by the interior muscles, and it creates a steady background hum of activity. But from what you can see of Jeongguk's abdomen, it's entirely silent and still.
You see the organs relatively clearly through his abdominal muscles, which—despite being thick and surely strong as hell—aren't quite as dense as his pecs. And his organs are there; blood is circulating to and through them; they're just…dormant.
But as you glide the probe over to where his bladder should be, you don't find it. Only on the third pass do you spot it, appearing entirely empty and therefore tiny. It confirms what he said about his near-perfect closed-loop system, where his kidneys don't really output urine unless to get rid of excess fluid.
Quietly amazed, you wipe the gel from his abdomen and some stray streaks that you previously missed on his chest.
Your next target is his arm, but before you do anything else, you quietly stand from the chair, softly padding out of the exam room to pay the locker room a quick visit. Considering everything Jeongguk is doing for you and your curiosity, you can at least make it as comfortable as possible for him. That's the reasoning behind bringing him your personal pillow, carefully putting a hand under his head to slide the pillow in under it.
Just like the lion's paw, Jeongguk's limp arm is—besides warm—incredibly heavy. Struggling a little more than you care to admit, you maneuver it to hang off the edge of the table and into your lap, where his body heat radiates straight through your clothes.
Holding onto that big, heavy, veiny arm, you touch the probe to his biceps, and what you find is so, so interesting. While his heart looked a tad bit bigger than that of a regular man his size, it appeared disproportionately strong, the muscle responsible for its contractions dense and thick, almost like his pecs.
Similarly, the muscles in his arm show up bright on screen, so dense that you barely see through them. It explains perfectly why he's quite a bit heavier than he appears.
You don't rush, feeling alright about taking your time since Jeongguk is sleeping either way. Besides the muscle bellies themselves, you spend quite a while inspecting the different tendons in his arm. As well as you can, at least.
Where the tendons are exposed, like the biceps tendon on the inside of his elbow, they're thick and bright on screen. Clear and sharp. But where they disappear in under too much overlaying muscle, they blur as the soundwaves scatter. You can't conclude much more than that they're thicker than a human's, but you felt that even when you palpated him earlier.
The biggest discovery, however, is probably when you move the probe to the inside of Jeongguk's biceps and over his brachial artery. It's the arm's main blood supply, and it should be well-developed for any relatively fit and strong man. In fact, its size shouldn't be that much of a surprise when you can feel the outline of Jeongguk's even while he sleeps.
But the moment the artery is centered under the probe, and you see the on-screen numbers measure the diameter to be 5.6 millimeters wide, you blink in shock. Almost dropping the probe, you scramble to dig your phone out of your pocket and open the browser, searching for the average brachial diameter for a human man.
3-4 millimeters. Ish. Apparently, an exceptionally strong climber measured at 4.4 millimeters and attributed his almost superhuman strength to his wide arteries. And Jeongguk's is 5.6 millimeters.
His arm rests limply in your lap as you note the numbers down on a nearby stray piece of paper, underlining it twice, as if you'd possibly forget. That has to be one of the big explanations, right? For his super strength? His muscles and tendons are disproportionately strong on their own, yes, but they can generate so much more force and for so much longer because his body can provide them with an almost endless supply of oxygen.
God, now all you need to know is what the hell is in his blood. With that additional puzzle piece, you feel like you're one step closer to solving the mystery that is his strength.
When your own heart finally calms down from the discovery-induced adrenaline high, you find yourself simply watching the flow of his blood for a few minutes. For some reason, it's very soothing, like watching waves hit the shore on an empty beach.
Before you turn off the machine and clear Jeongguk's skin of the remaining gel, the last thing you do is adjust the settings to also thoroughly inspect the uppermost level. His skin.
As expected, and aligning with what you've already seen, it is noticeably thicker. There's not much fat, but the skin itself is thick. You reach for the pen again, writing down a question.
'Sensitivity?'
You power the machine off, the absence of the low humming suddenly making the room almost eerily quiet. Jeongguk is still fast asleep, his handsome face so youthful. You smile to yourself; he wasn't lying when he said that he was a heavy sleeper. Still, you don't watch his face for too long, for some reason convinced that he, at any second, will open his eyes and stare at you. You don't know what you find scarier: him suddenly and unceremoniously staring at you, or finding you staring at him.
Pushing the ultrasound cart away slightly, you settle back into your chair again, carefully grasping his arm. It's one thing to see something on screen—pretty badly portrayed, at that—it's another to feel it. In your line of work, your patients can sometimes show you what's wrong, even if they can't outright tell you. But they can also be entirely stoic or just simply unreliable, and so you've learned to rely a lot on your hands, feeling for whatever's not right.
Rolling your chair just a tad closer, still with his hand in your lap, you run your hands softly up to his shoulder, planning to get a better feel than the previous preview. Throwing a quick glance at his face, you confirm that he hasn't reacted.
You start by tracing your fingers over his shoulder cap, feeling exactly where the thick muscle fibers anchor onto his collar bone. Lifting one hand from his skin, you trace the same part on yourself just to compare. While your attachments are distinctly human; still relatively strong but with a certain degree of "give," Jeongguk's feel much harder. It makes sense because, as established, a muscle can't be stronger than its bone attachments allow it to be.
Returning your hand to his shoulder, you slide your fingers down a little further, carefully prodding the inside of his armpit for the lymph nodes.
There's a sound.
Almost like a quick exhale of air. Your gaze snaps to Jeongguk's face, but he hasn't moved a muscle, still entirely quiet and relaxed. You must've imagined it, or it was the ultrasound machine finally powering down completely. Old things like that make random sounds, after all.
You let your hands move again. Just like the lymph nodes in his neck, the nodes in his armpit are harder than normal, for a human at least.
Continuing further down, your hands reach his biceps and triceps. You've seen the thickness of his upper arm before, even had your hands on him briefly earlier tonight, but it's another thing to really get to feel. You won't deny that palpating the dense muscles makes your heart skip maybe an extra beat, but you'd absolutely keep that fact to yourself. Besides increasing the inevitable attraction you feel toward him, the curious scientist in you is thrilled.
Jeongguk's biceps is incredibly well developed, no surprise there, but you're almost surprised at just how dense his triceps is. Additionally, as you prod the muscles, eyes unfocused on the wall, you note that there's basically no intramuscular fat, or at least you can't feel any. You continue to trace the three heads of the triceps, mapping where they anchor to the elbow.
Concluding that, yeah, he's got a physique rather similar to human men, just leveled up and engineered to withstand more force—like… a lot more—you slide one of your hands down to his wrist, grasping it and lifting.
Struggling just a little, you move his heavy lower arm slowly back and forth, folding it at the elbow, just to get a glimpse of his range of motion. You think perhaps it's a little greater than what's considered normal in a human, but flexibility in humans is highly individual. It could be for vampires as well? You wouldn't call his range of motion unnatural, at least.
With that out of the way, you continue your descent, feeling for the elbow's attachments in the other direction, toward his forearm. They feel just as strong, no surprise there. With your left hand, you feel for the right spot in the middle of his forearm, carefully digging your thumb into the flesh. There's not a lot of give, and it takes a quite a lot of pressure, but then you see it; how his middle finger twitches. Moving your thumb a little to the side and pressing, you get the index finger to react, too.
His wrist is thick and so are the veins running on both sides of it. Actually, all sides of it. You lift his hand again, gently rolling his wrist to test the range of motion of that joint as well. There's zero friction, no sounds or jumps, just fluid motion.
The results remain consistent when you move on to feel the muscles in his hand and his fingers, very gently stretching and curling them. Your own wrist pops occasionally—something it's always done—a reminder that you, at least, are human.
"What are you feeling for?"
The low voice breaks the silence just as you're done with his pinky. It startles you, and your wide eyes flit to his face to find his dark eyes watching you.
"God, don't scare me like that," you complain, exhaling. But you also feel your cheeks heat. His voice didn't sound… newly awoken. "How long have you been awake?"
"Uh, since you started feeling me up," he grins lazily.
"I wasn't feeling you up," you defend, groaning internally. You've been 'feeling him up' for way too long. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"Don't worry, I said that you could, didn't I?" he continues, and you can tell he doesn't mind. "And it felt nice; I didn't want you to stop."
You roll your eyes, cheeks very warm.
"So did you learn anything?"
You nod, excitement overriding your embarrassment because you did. "Yeah. So, in conclusion: your muscles are dense. So much so that it does make it more difficult to see past them on the ultrasound. And probably why it was a little harder to hear your heart as well. Your heart is a little bit bigger than what I'd consider normal in a human man, but it works roughly the same, only stronger and capable of moving more blood around. Your brachial artery, however," you say, lightly tapping the spot on his inner biceps. "Is insane."
Jeongguk lifts his eyebrows and sits up, stretching briefly. "How is it insane?"
"The average brachial diameter for a human man is around 3 to 4 millimeters; some peaking at roughly 4.5. Yours is not only thick and extra muscular, but it's 5.6 millimeters in diameter; that's a lot. Logically, that would mean that not only is your heart pumping a lot of blood around, but your veins and arteries are better equipped to deliver that blood to your muscles. And to your other organs, of course."
Jeongguk listens intently, quietly curious, as you continue.
"So not only are your muscles denser, your heart bigger, and your veins and arteries thicker to handle the added pressure, your tendons are crazy thick as well. If they weren't, you'd probably risk tearing the muscles from your bones with how strong you are. You also seem to have a slightly wider range of motion? I don't know if that is a vampire thing or a you thing? For humans, it varies a lot, even among those that don't have connective tissue disorders like Ehlers-Danlos."
"Never thought about it."
You shrug. "Then it's probably not a big deal. The movement of your joints, at least your elbow, wrist, and fingers, is very smooth. No clicking or incongruence."
"Like you have?"
"You noticed that?"
He smiles and nods. Then he tilts his head. "What… was it that you did when you pressed on my forearm?"
"I was feeling the tendons that control your fingers. Seeing if I could manipulate them."
"My fingers?"
"Mhm. Look," you say, holding your hand out.
Jeongguk fulfills your request, holding out his forearm and watching as you trace his warm skin to find the spot again. "Relax your hand. Hold on. Okay, see?"
With your thumb pressing down, his middle finger moves, curling slightly.
"Oh? That's cool."
"Yeah. A bit of a party trick," you grin, letting go of his arm and leaning back. "Oh, almost forgot. Your abdomen is very… quiet. Not a lot going on there as you probably knew. And your bladder is practically entirely empty, which supports what you said about your mostly 'closed loop' system."
"Yeah. That, I knew," he smiles widely.
With your cheeks burning yet again, you reach for his shirt, handing it to him. "Thanks for… letting me do all of this."
Telling yourself that it's not weird to be fascinated by him and his anatomy doesn't make you feel any less of a perv, unfortunately.
"No problem. If this is how it is going to the doctor, I kinda wish I could go too."
You laugh. "This is not how it is at the doctor's. And if it is, you need to report the doctor."
"Why?" he smiles, and fuck, you dug a grave and stepped right in.
Why? Because it's inappropriate?
"Well… for one, I'd say we're… friends? I don't have the responsibility to treat you for something like a doctor would for their patient. I'm actually not even a doctor; I'm a vet, and the way I work is a bit different than how a doctor would with human patients."
"You go by touch?"
"Yeah. I use my hands to evaluate a lot. Besides, you're not a human, and you shouldn't be asleep at the doctor's."
He puts the shirt back on, amused.
A thought hits you. "You don't have any doctors of your own? Vampire doctors?"
It's still odd to say the word out loud.
"We do, but not a lot since we rarely need them. We have a few different… services, but they're more like caretakers. Like, if someone gets poisoned or actually dehydrated, they can help take care of them. Quite a few vampires live in solidarity, so it can be hard to survive things like that if you don't have anyone to take care of you."
"Oh."
"Yeah."
"Those friends you were with, at the bar that night?"
"Also vampires," he grins. "They're not from around here but Tae—Taehyung—is thinking of renting a house here for a few months."
"Really?"
"Yeah."
It makes you wonder…
"There aren't any other vampires here. At least not right now," he says, clearly having realized your train of thought and met you at the station.
"Oh."
He tilts his head. "Are you relieved?"
You think about it. "Uh… I don't know? I guess that makes the chances of being killed by something supernatural… lower, but… I mean, you're nice."
He laughs, lifting his arm to look at his watch. "Oh, shit. I have to go."
"You have… plans? At ass o'clock?"
"Uh… yeah. Vampire plans," he starts, eyes however widening slightly at his own words. "…That definitely do not involve hunting humans for food."
It's your turn to laugh. Does he sound like a bad liar? A bit, but it sounds more to you like he just wants to make sure you're not getting the wrong idea and trips a little over his words in the process.
"Okay. Have fun? And, uh, thank you again for… you know, letting me do all of this."
He grins. "Anytime. Text me when you're home."
Your cheeks get no break tonight, it seems. Still, you nod as you watch him throw the jacket back on as well.
You drive home, falling asleep right after putting his blood in the fridge. And you dream about his warm body and dark eyes. And it hits you as you wake up, that you weren't scared. Nervous and... aware, sure, because you inevitably like the very handsome and charming vampire, but even as he joked about his vampire plans, you were never truly scared.
<previous | next>
author's note: i hope you liked it!! <3
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→ SUMMARY : You were a journalist at Yonsei University when you started noticing the strange coincidences between your favorite bumbling freshman and Seoul's newest superhero. 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 flustered. You tell yourself it's just a coincidence, because the alternative means admitting something you're absolutely not ready to deal with.
→ TAGS : second person perspective used, female pronouns used, college au, spider-man au, noona kink, slight age gap (he’s 21, she’s 24ish), dry humping, virgin jungkook, first time, inexperienced jk, creaming his pants, sexual content, explicit content, library smut, clothed getting off, breast play, grinding, praise kink, crying during sex, crying after sex, embarrassment kink, humiliation kink, slight dom reader x sub jungkook, size difference, pining, jungkook has a big fat crush on you, secret identity, touch starved, protective jungkook, closet sexual activities, desperate jungkook, gentle domming, aftercare, emotional intimacy, fluff and smut, Korean setting, university setting.
→ PLAYLIST: set the vibes.
→ MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQUEST | WORDCOUNT: 11.8k
→ A/N: Hi everyone! Welcome to my first attempt at a Spidey!JK AU, where he somehow manages to be an even bigger mess than Peter Parker 😭. This story is very close to my heart because it dives into the dynamic between a confident noona and her adorably flustered freshman—who just so happens to be Seoul’s clumsy new superhero. To be honest, this Spiderkook oneshot was heavily inspired by Tangie, aka @rpwprpwprpwprw (love you bb!!!). I’d been lowkey daydreaming about Spiderkook for ages but thought, “Nah, that’s too silly.” Then I discovered there’s an entire community sharing the same brain cell as me??? Like, you’re welcome for my service, I guess?? Originally, this was supposed to be a short, smutty 5k romp. But do you think I can write smut without plot? I CAN’T. IT’S A MEDICAL CONDITION. Now it’s a 12k beast with feelings, webs, and chaos. Sorry (but not really). If you enjoy this, I might turn it into a mini-series because, let’s be honest, spider powers in… certain scenarios… sound very intriguing. Hihihi. Hope you enjoy this mess I’ve unleashed on the world! 🕸️
Edit: also, yeah. Tae is older than Jimin and Jungkook here because my sleep deprived brain slapped a ‘hyung’ on Jimin’s mouth and I’m not editing again. (≖͞_≖̥)
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!"
❀ Hello! Welcome to my first big blog post!! After years of using this account to lurk and silently read amazing fan fics by amazing authors, I’ve decided to share some of my all-time favorite Jungkook fics. Some of these are fics I read a while back, but they've stuck with me the most over the years and have truly altered my brain chemistry. This is my token of appreciation for the talented authors who are on here and work so hard to give us such creative and enjoyable readings (and for free too <3). These lists I create will also help me sort through my likes page (LOL). Reading such creative writing has truly made my time being an army the best. The joy and rush of adrenaline I feel truly cannot be replaced. Summer is upon us, so I hope to post more fic rec lists like these for other members and hope to be more active on here!
I hope you enjoy reading these as much as I did, and if you care to indulge in convos about any of these, please feel free to comment or reblog! Happy Reading! 🎀
(S, F, 15.5k words) Roomies to lovers, slow burn, Vanilla Shy Jungkook (with a cherry on top), noona reader, losing virginity, trapped inside
Summary: What’s better than hot chocolate on a winter day? Being trapped when a blizzard hits town, forcing close proximity with you and your shy, awkward roommate. To make matters worse, the power gets cut in the middle of his shower. Which also means no heating. This is an OG read and THE definition of roommates to lovers.
❀ 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.
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
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
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)
❀ You've reached the end my lovely readers! If you enjoyed this list as much as I had fun making it, please like/reblog so others can enjoy too! This is only a small portion of what I've read for JK (maybe rec list part 2?). I might be doing a Seokjin fic list next! Thank you for your time, and I hope these fics get the recognition they deserve!
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"Shyness will get you nowhere."
Jungkook x MaleDom!Reader
Plot: none. Porn without plot. You dive right in.
Tags: bottom jungkook, top reader, subby jungkook, whining, whimpering, overstimulation, slight humiliation(veeery light, if you squint), teasing, rimming, breeding, jungkook calls reader daddy (not overused), reader calls jungkook "bunny", belly bulge, pressing on said belly bulge, neck biting (slight)
1.2k words
Note: I wrote this at 3 am I haven't written anything in a WHILE so like, 1. This is kinda rushed a little and 2. That melatonin clearly didn't work. Goodnight, I'm going to sleep, you however, read this sick banger fic I wrote of Jungkook getting dicked down. Because we all deserve it.
.°☆•.°☆.•.°..☆•.°☆.•°.☆•.•☆•.°☆..•☆°.•☆•.
Jungkook’s arms are trembling.
He lay flat on his back, shirt twisted somewhere around his chest, legs wide and helpless, slick and your spit clinging between his thighs and spreading across the sheets.
His whole body’s flushed a pretty pink and twitching, hair clinging to his forehead, eyes glossy and unfocused.
And you?
Still between his legs.
Still soaked in it.
Tongue fucking him through the second orgasm like it’s not enough.
Your tongue makes the nastiest squelching noises as you keep flicking it inside and around his rim.
The taste was intoxicating. Sweet, slightly salty from your own cum that was still inside him, you can't help but let out a satisfied hum which only makes things more intense.
The sounds that were leaving Jungkook's parted lips were so pathetic and breathy. Soft little whimpers, high pitched whines. Like music to your ears.
You loved the noises that he made. It was one of your favorite parts about having sex with him. The noises made both by his mouth, and other parts of him, like his hole which always sounded so nasty and wet, it felt illegal.
Jungkook was very sensitive, even after his first orgasm he would already twitch and whine about how it's too much, but you always knew he didn't mean it. He wanted more.
Greedy little thing.
Well, not little. From his muscles, to his cock, the guy is definitely not little. He's huge.
But the fact that you had him like this, so pathetic and open for you, and you only, made you feel so much more confident about yourself and sent blood to your cock every time.
"F-fhfuhh pleasemmmph.." He barely slurs the word out, unable to speak from the overstimulation that is caused by you lazily caressing your thumb over his flushed tip, still leaking, spreading leftover cum from where he came already moments earlier.
You lightly go over to press his slit just to watch his whole body jerk and eyes squeeze shut in response.
You pull back from his hole to look at his flushed face and tease him a little.
"What do you want, hmm? Tell me baby."
You know he hates it when you act like you have no idea of EXACTLY what he wants. You can read him like an open book.
Only if by open book you could say his legs being the pages that are spread.
Your eyes flick back down to his sloppy pink ring of muscle, twitching around nothing like it's begging on its own.
"Please... please just... put it in." He whines again. You can't help but smirk.
He gets so nasty, so shamelessly bold when asking you to fuck him, describing every position in detail and where your tongue and cock goes at what times, but the second you actually start to do anything, he suddenly forgets how to form a sentence and gets all shy and vague.
All bark no bite.
"Put what in where, love?" Again with the act. Its so obvious. He hates it. You love it. You can't get enough of it. His reactions, frustration, little protests, it's like a drug.
Jungkook whines above you as you trace your pointer finger around his pulsing rim and drops his head back in frustration of both your verbal and physical teasing.
"Just put your cock in me already oh my god" the annoyance in his voice was obvious, you knew he was impatient.
You let out a low amused chuckle under your breath, and line your own leaking cock up with his puffy entrance.
"Whatever you say bunny. Just wanna hear you speak proper, is all..."
You'd lie if you said you didn't want to fuck his brains out for the past 8 minutes already, which left you painfully throbbing while eating him out.
But, teasing him was just so entertaining. Plus, you had to taste him before you bred him so much all you could taste was your own cum leaking out of him.
Gosh you were so excited about that part.
The first push inside had you both groaning in pleasure.
Jungkooks mouth hung open even more now, adjusting around your thick length.
"Fuckkkkk... still so tight bunny, how are you so fucking tight?"
You press your face into the crook of Jungkook's neck as you finally bottom out, filling him up all the way and inhaling some of his scent.
"...so big daddy... so fucking big, filling me up so good..."
You smile to yourself at the comment. He always loved to mention how big you are. How well you fill him up with your length.
He could never get enough of the way your cock curved so perfectly, to hit his prostate with precision every time.
You start to slowly move, pulling out all the way before thrusting back inside his squelching entrance.
Its not long before your movements speed up, ramming into him at a quick speed, your skin slapping together and making noises that fill the otherwise quiet room.
The only noises in it being your moans, wetness, and slapping.
Like a symphony written by the two of you, for you.
You pull back as your gaze drops to the area where you two are connected, a ring of the previous white, sticky cum formed around the base of your cock as you keep slamming him.
His hole was so tight, it felt like he was pulling you back in every time you pulled out.
You angled your hips in a way that hit his prostate every time, making him throw his head back in pleasure.
"FuCk- yes right there right fucking there oh my god-"
You decided to make things even worse, after noticing the bulge in his belly that was appearing and disappearing in time with your thrusts, pressing down on it slightly to make every sensation even stronger.
His moans got louder and quicker, whines stretched out and more desperate as you kept slamming into him.
His blunt nails found your bare back, leaving lines of scratches that burned just so good it was making you feel like you're high.
Or maybe, that was the approaching orgasm which crept it's way up your spine, making your movements slightly more erratic and sloppy as you desperately chased for your release.
You feel yourself closer and closer to the edge, till you finally let your cum release inside of his guts with a loud groan, seeing white as the new load mixing with the previous, filling him to the brim.
You lift his left leg up, over your shoulder as you keep fucking him trough your own orgasm and untill he cums.
You lean closer to bite the area right where his neck meets the shoulder, bending him in half which releases a high pitched whine out of him.
"Fuck I'mcummingi'mcummingi'mcumming-" from under you as he spurts his cum all over himself and you.
You pump a last few thrusts and pull out of his overused, sloppy pink hole, leaving it twitching and leaking out your cum.
Both of you out of breath, coming down from your high as you press your forehead against his, sticky from sweat.
You lean in to capture his lips in a hungry, sloppy kiss, tongue finding his instantly and licking into his mouth.
You pull back for air and smile at him, while he mirrors the expression back. You lift your hand to brush a few strands of wet hair out of his forehead lovingly, as you gaze into his glossy, hooded eyes.
His expression so fucked out and blissful it made you horny again.
❥ Jungkook one-shot, fluff, smut, friends 2 lovers, angst, (F) reader, mdni, insecure Jungkook, Jungkook doesn't realize how attractive he is, self-sabotage, reader is a baddie, reader is a great friend, uhhh yeah
❥summary> Being best friends with one of the sexiest men you've ever seen isn't easy, especially when he doesn't see himself as such. After hearing Jeon Jungkook talk down about himself. You promise to make sure he remembers he's good looking on the inside and outside.
❥ word count 1887/ CC 10,536
❥ I tried my best to make sure the grammar the grammar is correct. if there's any mistakes, i'm sorrrryyy
Smut warning under the cut ❦
♥ 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 moon’s light bled into the dark, gleaming onto their silhouettes and any other object it could reach. The main place exposed, though, was in the plush cushioning of the bed, where Jungkook and Y/n lay.
Jung placed himself against the headboard; meanwhile, Y/n fit herself between his sprawled out legs, both of them content in their bareness as their clothes rested somewhere on the floor.
Some time had passed since they decided to end the night in their shared bedroom, opting for something more relaxing after a tiring day.
Usually, a movie night on the couch always concluded the night. Skin on skin, they’d laugh and appreciate each other's company until their bodies fell unconscious, but hungry eyes turned to needy touches (more so on Jungkook’s end), and eventually killed that thought long ago.
So, in consequence, the evening drew them here.
Jungkook lying pretty in all his vulnerability, while Y/n’s slim fingers curled around his base, and at the tip, a vibrating cock ring cozily wrapped around it.
It had been a while since she used it on him, deciding today was perfect as he refused to let her sleep.
It wasn’t her best punishment, but tonight, Y/n didn’t have the energy to think about it, nor did she feel like doing anything that required much stamina either. Unlike her boyfriend, who begged nonstop in her ear, even humping his hardening cock against her side, til she had had enough.
Thus, the toy’s controls rested beside her, and every few minutes, she played with the intensity.
She stared longingly at her boyfriend, glancing at the newly formed sweat all over him, sweetening his inked skin.
“F-fuck Y/n,” Jung strangled out, having already slipped into subspace moments ago, sending a rush of heat to her core.
She watched in amusement, her infatuation never ceasing with how hypnotic he could be.
The provocative jut of his hips when the pleasure was too much, the knit of his brows when seconds away from reaching his high.
But nothing compared to the erotic noises he painted the room with, feeling so intoxicatingly pleasant, he almost forgot himself.
“Close again...s’close,” he spoke through brittle gasps, feeling the hot pressure encasing him. His toes curled into the covers, as did his nails, sinking into the headrest beneath his quivering form.
Y/n’s obedient bunny understood the practice, never coming unless she gave him permission to.
He was on his third denial, nearing the fourth peak.
He held tight onto the brink of his release and gave one sharp exhale before he got there—his cries growing increasingly pathetic.
“Don’t think I can–fuck, I can’t hold it..” The tension within him coiled tighter and tighter.
The man tugged on the cool metal that pierced his lip, like it'd keep him grounded.
A few inches down, his opposite caught the pleas, letting them delicately nuzzle in her ears. Almost immediately, she reduced the constant buzzing. Never entirely halting, though, stirring Y/n’s every limb to flutter from Kook’s desperate gasps for air.
“So soon, Kookie?” she purred, tipping her focus towards the precum that leaked from his tip, gliding the substance along his shaft. “How disappointing.”
Her bewitching pupils found his attentive ones, arching into the cushy surface as she planted a few kitten licks to his cock head, rousing his jaw to tighten.
In spite of that, when he was sure he managed restraint, Y/n took him whole, stroking what she couldn’t reach.
She knew what would break him, swirling her tongue around the head while her slick hands squeezed and meandered frantically.
Jungkook felt his brain softening to putty as she worked on him, releasing him with a “pop”. She licked his remnants off her lips, moaning at the bittersweet taste.
“After annoying me all night, I'd expect you to last longer, hm, bunny?” she teased, fumbling for the remote with a free hand, readily turning up the setting once more.
“W-wait- hah!” he mewled, throwing his head back against the headboard as his eyes fluttered shut. “Wanna be good for you- fuck! don’t wanna come early...”
Despite the warnings, the betrayal of his body weighed over them as the roll of his hips grew more disheveled. Y/n was relentless, fist fucking him til she caught tears threatening to slip. “Y-y/n please…”
Jungkook's body felt as if set ablaze. He rolled his fist into the covers below as Y/n's pace soothed a bit.
Deliberate and slow, she jerked him, pushing her thumb over his buzzing tip.
“I know, bunny, I heard you,” Y/n cooed, her cold gaze settling on him again.
