Amor Genuino // Jeon Jungkook
Credits to the rightful owner of the pictures used above @jung-koook, I hope I have it correct.
Summary: The last thing you expected after coming back from Brazil was finding Jungkook in your kitchen like nothing had ever happened. Fresh out of the military, he’s determined to prove he’s changed and that he wants more than a situationship this time. You swore you wouldn’t let him back in after the silence he left you with, but when he asks for a second chance, the walls around your heart start to crack.He’s doing everything to win you over again, and you’re starting to realize resisting him—especially when he smiles and looks at you like that—might be impossible.
Warnings: idol!jk x poc!singer/songwriter!oc, smut! MDNI!, oral (f.rec), unprotected sex, jk is a simp and a munch with no shame about it, jk calls her noona but it’s mainly teasing or when he wants to get his way, jk is lowkey a little menace but you love it, kinda dom/sub/switch dynamics but it’s not explicitly mentioned, aftercare, more to come in the other parts but let me know if I missed anything.
W.C: 11.6k
The last thing you expected to see when you returned home from your trip to Brazil was your ex-situationship in your kitchen like it was a normal thing. Jungkook had been discharged from the military almost a month ago and one of the first persons he wanted to see was you. You’d gone silent on him and he understood why but he needed you to know that you were both on the same track. He just lagged a bit and it gave you the wrong impression.
“Yahh, Jeon Jungkook!! What the fuck are you doing?”
Jungkook doesn’t even flinch at your outburst. He turns from where he’s comfortably leaned against your kitchen counter, a glass of iced water in his hand like he owns the place or like he used to.
“Nice to see you too,” he says with a casual smile, like your heart hadn’t once split open over the silence he left you in.
You drop your duffel a little too hard on the floor, the thud echoing in the apartment. “How the hell did you get in here?”
“I still had the code,” he says simply, lifting his glass in a mock toast before taking a sip. “You never changed it.”
You blink, stunned. The audacity of this man. “So you thought that was an invitation? Jungkook, are you insane?”
Jungkook shrugs, setting the glass down like this is a conversation he’s had a hundred times in his head and always won. “No. I thought it meant there was still a chance.”
His voice is soft, but firm. Honest in that maddening, Jungkook way that used to make you feel like the whole world stopped when he looked at you like that. Like this.
You cross your arms, jaw clenched so tight it’s a miracle your teeth haven’t cracked. “You ghosted me, Jungkook. You disappeared without a word after everything we—”
“I didn’t ghost you.” He steps closer, cautiously, like you’re a frightened animal he doesn’t want to spook. “I’ll admit I lagged a bit and freaked out but ghosting wasn’t my intention.”
“Same difference whether it was intentional or not.”
That shuts him up.
For a moment, the silence is heavier than your suitcase. He stares at you, something flickering in his eyes guilt, maybe, or regret. Maybe even love, but you’re not stupid enough to let that sway you. Not again.
“I didn’t know how to say what I wanted without screwing everything up,” he finally says. “But I see now that going quiet just did that anyway.”
You scoff. “Took you two months and a break in to figure that out?”
“I didn’t break in,” he mutters, almost pouting. “And I called and texted you multiple times before and once I got discharged. You just never answered.”
Your heart lurches because you did get the calls and the texts and you never responded because you were hurt.
You hadn’t known what to do with them. Didn’t want to know if they were full of promises or apologies or some convoluted explanation that would only reopen wounds you’d spent the past two months learning how to live with.
“Why are you really here?” you ask, quieter now. “What do you want from me?”
He looks at you then, not past you, not through you, but at you. Like you’re still the person he used to call at 2 a.m. just to hear your voice. Like he still knows you.
“I want a second chance,” Jungkook says. “No situationship, let me be your boyfriend.”
You stare at him like he’d grown another head because that isn’t what you expected to hear.
You laugh sharp and disbelieving. “Boyfriend? Now you want to be my boyfriend?”
Jungkook doesn’t flinch. “Yes.”
“After two months of silence and one rogue visit to my apartment?” You shake your head, pressing your palms into your temples. “You seriously think that’s how this works?”
“No,” he says quietly. “But I’m hoping you’ll let me try anyway.”
The room is still. The air feels heavier now, the kind of weight that’s not just emotional but lived-in—like the ghost of your shared past decided to sit on your couch and watch this all play out. You look at him again, really look at him, and it’s both painfully familiar and impossibly foreign.
His hair is a little longer than before. He’s filled out a little, posture more grounded, more deliberate. But it’s his eyes—still soft, still maddeningly earnest—that threaten to undo the carefully stacked bricks you’ve built around your heart.
“You don’t get to just show up here like no time has passed and pick up where we left off.”
“I know,” he nods, stepping closer again, slow enough to let you stop him if you want. “And I’m not asking you to forget what happened. I’m asking you to give me a chance to show you that I mean it this time.”
You fold your arms tighter around yourself. “And what exactly changed that makes this time different?”
“I did,” he says. “The military gave me a lot of time to think and for the first time in my life, I stopped running from things that scared me.”
“And I was one of those things?” you ask, voice low.
“You were everything,” he says simply. “And that terrified me.”
The silence stretches again, this time not sharp, but uncertain.
You should kick him out. You want to kick him out. But instead, you say, “You’ve got five minutes to explain everything. No bullshit. No vague excuses.”
Jungkook straightens, hopeful, like five minutes is more time than he thought he’d get. “Deal.”
And for some reason, despite every hurt, despite the voice in your head screaming at you to shut the door on him and never look back—you sit down. Not because he deserves it yet but because maybe, just maybe,you want to believe he could.
“You better not make me regret this Jeon.”
“I won’t, promise.” He says as you leave your bags in the hallway and move towards your living room.
“First things first, how’d you know to be here at this exact time?” You question.
“Gyu told me you were coming back today and I calculated everything else on my own.”
“You’re actually insane.”
“You wouldn’t answer my calls or texts, I got desperate okay?!”
“I tell you I like you and you ghost me…”you pause for a moment.“…then you break into my apartment like we’re in some shitty romcom,” you finish with a bitter laugh, collapsing onto the edge of your couch.
Jungkook follows, hovering by the armrest like he’s not sure if he’s allowed to sit yet. “I didn’t break in,” he says again, more sheepishly this time. “And it’s not like I forgot what you said.”
“You sure about that?” you snap. “Because the night I told you how I felt, you looked me in the eyes, kissed me like it meant something and then disappeared.”
He winces. “I know. I know how bad that was.”
“Do you?” You glare at him. “Because while you were off in the mountains or wherever, trying to ‘find yourself,’ I was here thinking I’d made everything up in my head. That I’d read too much into it. That I scared you off.”
“You didn’t scare me,” he says softly, finally sitting down. “You made me realize how real it all was and yeah, maybe that did freak me out. But not because I didn’t want it.”
“Then why leave me hanging?”
“Because I didn’t know how to handle someone who actually saw me. Who wanted me. Not just Jungkook the idol, not the guy everyone thinks they know. Me.” He swallows, looking down at his hands. “You were the first person who made me feel like I could be that version of myself and still be loved.”
The room quiets again. Your heartbeat is loud in your ears.
He glances at you then, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips. “I wasn’t ready before. But I am now. And if you still want me—”
“You’re lucky I even let you talk,” you interrupt, but your voice has lost its bite. “One more vanishing act and I will change the code. And possibly throw a something at your head.”
“That’s fair,” he says, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “I deserve that.”
“You deserve worse,” you mutter, and then softer, “but maybe…we can start over.”
His eyes brighten, like that one line is the sun cracking through storm clouds. “Start over,” he repeats, nodding. “I can work with that.”
You sigh, rubbing your temples again. “God, I must be out of my damn mind.”
Jungkook grins. “But you missed me.”
“Shut up and get me a drink before I change my mind.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He’s already up and heading to the kitchen.
And just like that, the door you’d sworn to keep closed,cracks open, just a little.
That was three weeks ago and now it’s like that two month period of silence between you had never really happened. Jungkook had been doing everything he could to make it up to you and you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t working or that you weren’t developing even bigger heart eyes for him than you already have, which brings you to now.
You’d seen Jungkook shirtless numerous times throughout the years you’ve known each other but it’s the first time you’re seeing it since his discharge and you wonder if he’s trying to send you crazy.
He called you over earlier insisting on a movie night, he ordered all the food and bought snacks and was fresh out of the shower when you arrived. What you didn’t expect was the new ink that spanned almost across his chest from the previous one or the new ink on his once bare left arm.
You’re staring as you sit on the edge of his bed and if he notices then he says nothing, at least, not at first.
Jungkook hums to himself as he rifles through his drawers for a shirt, towel slung low around his hips, completely unbothered by the fact that he looks like a walking thirst trap. Your eyes flick from the still-damp curls clinging to his forehead to the ink blooming across his chest, bold and black and unfairly sexy, and then lower—to the newer piece coiled along his left arm, delicate lines and sharp edges, intricate enough to make you forget how to breathe for a second.
You don’t realize how long you’ve been staring until he turns around, shirt finally in hand, and catches your expression.
His lips twitch. “You good over there?”
You blink, looking up like you’d been snapped out of a trance—which, in a way, you had.
“Uh…yeah. Yeah, I’m fine,” you say, voice a little higher than usual. You clear your throat and try again. “You got more tattoos.”
He grins then, cocky and sweet, tossing the shirt on the bed beside you instead of putting it on. “Noticed, huh?”
“Kind of hard not to when you’re standing there like a Calvin Klein ad.”
He laughs, and god, you really wish he’d stop doing that because now you’re not just thinking about the tattoos.You’re thinking about tracing them, about how warm he probably still is from the shower, about how close he is and how unfair it is that he looks this good and knows what to do with it.
“Come closer if you want a better look,” he says, teasing, like he hadn’t just weaponized his body against your willpower.
You roll your eyes, but your legs move before your pride can stop them. You stand, stepping into his space slowly, gaze trailing over the ink as if it might tell you something he hasn’t said yet.
“This one’s new,” you murmur, lightly brushing your fingers near the chest piece—near, not on, because you’re not sure you’d recover if you actually touched him right now.
“Finished it last week,” he says, voice softer now. “Didn’t want to show you until it healed properly.”
You glance up at him then, eyes meeting his, and for a second the air feels thick between you. Not tense,just charged.
“Looks good on you,” you say, because it’s the truth. “You always pull them off.”
“I was hoping you’d like it,” he replies, gaze dropping to your mouth for the briefest second.
You should move. Say something smart. Tease him, maybe but all you manage is a quiet, “I do.”
Neither of you move away and then Jungkook speaks again, lower this time. “You know… movie night can start a little late.”
And if you lean in after that, it’s definitely not just because of the tattoos. His towel hits the floor as both his hands find your waist walking you backwards until your knees hit the bed and he’s pushing you down onto it immediately crowding your space.
“Missed you,” he whispers against your lips, hands gripping your thighs and wrapping them around his hips as he presses closer.
You gasp against his mouth, fingers curling into his damp hair as he settles between your legs like he belongs there, because he does or at least, that’s what it feels like in this moment; when every part of him is pressed to you like he’s trying to make up for every second he spent away.
“Jungkook…” you breathe, and it’s not a protest,it never was. It’s a warning, maybe a plea or just the only thing you can manage to say with your heart thudding against your ribs like it’s trying to catch up to his.
“I know,” he murmurs, lips brushing your cheek, your jaw, the soft spot below your ear. “I know, baby. I’ll go slow.”
And he does, despite the urgency in the way his hands move—palming your waist, mapping your skin like he’s memorizing you all over again. His kisses trail down your throat and linger there, like he’s trying to make you feel safe and wanted in the same breath.
Your hips roll up instinctively, seeking more, and he groans low in his chest like the sound is pulled straight from the pit of his stomach. One of his hands grips your thigh tighter, the other slipping beneath the hem of your shirt, grazing over the bare skin of your stomach.
“You drive me crazy, you know that?” he mutters against your collarbone. “Three weeks of pretending I wasn’t dying to touch you like this,longer than that, really.”
You tangle your fingers into the back of his neck, dragging him back up to kiss you again, slower and deeper this time. He hums into it, hips grinding down once, and you both break the kiss with matching, shaky breaths.
“Tell me if you want to stop,” he whispers, forehead pressed to yours.
“I don’t,” you whisper back, and that’s all he needs because this time, when he kisses you, it’s not just want but a promise.One that says he’s here now and that he plans to stay.
He grips the hem of your t-shirt and you lift your arms for him to pull it up and over your head, you think he’s going for your bra next but his eyes are locked on your right shoulder.
“Kook, what’re you—”
“That’s new…” he mumbles and you’re about to ask what he’s talking about when you remember the branch of sakura blossoms you’d gotten done the second week after you hadn’t heard from him.
Your breath catches, and not just because he’s half-naked and straddling you, but because of the way his fingers reach out—slow, reverent—and lightly trace over the ink on your shoulder like it’s sacred.
He doesn’t say anything for a beat, just follows the curve of the branch, the blossoms that trail over your skin. His thumb brushes the edge of one petal, and it’s so gentle it nearly makes you shiver.
“You got this while I was gone,” he says quietly, not a question but like he already knows.
You swallow, heart suddenly louder than it was a minute ago. “Second week after you stopped calling.”
His eyes flick to yours, guilt heavy in his expression, but also something else—curiosity, awe, maybe a bit of sadness.
“Why sakura?” he asks, voice low.
You shrug a little, feeling strangely vulnerable under the weight of his gaze. “They’re short-lived. Beautiful, but fleeting.”
Something flashes across his face then, like your answer stung a little, like it cut deeper than you intended as his hand cups your shoulder, thumb still brushing over the blossoms.
“I hate that I gave you a reason to pick that,” he murmurs.
You look up at him, chest tight. “I didn’t do it to spite you, Jungkook. I did it because I needed to remember that something beautiful could still come out of something that hurt.”
He nods slowly, lips pressed together like he’s chewing on every word.
“I want to be something that lasts,” he says suddenly, and it’s so earnest you nearly forget how to breathe.
You search his face, your voice softer now. “That why you didn’t put the shirt on? Wanted me to see your ink and think the same thing?”
He smirks, a little bashful now. “Maybe. Figured if we’re starting over, you should see what’s changed.”
You smile then, brushing a thumb over the new lines on his arm. “Guess we both changed.”
His gaze lingers on yours. “Yeah. But I’m still yours, if you want me.”
Your heart does that stupid flutter thing again, but this time you let it. Because the sakura on your shoulder might’ve been born from pain but right now, with his hands on your skin and that look in his eyes, you feel something blooming again.
“Y’know they also mean new beginnings right? They bloom in the spring when life is being given to the earth again.”
Jungkook’s eyes soften as he takes that in, thumb still grazing the edge of one blossom like it means something sacred. Maybe it does now.
“Yeah?” he says quietly, gaze flicking from your shoulder to your face. “I didn’t know that.”
You nod, a small smile tugging at your lips. “It felt fitting. I was trying to remind myself that something good could still come out of everything—even if it looked different than what I imagined.”
He leans in then, pressing a kiss to your shoulder just beneath the flowers, lingering there like he’s trying to apologize through touch alone.
“I want to be part of that new beginning,” he murmurs against your skin. “If you’ll let me.”
You tilt his chin up, looking him dead in the eye. “That depends.”
“On what?”
“If you’re gonna disappear again the second things get scary.”
He doesn’t even hesitate. “I won’t. I’ve already been through losing you once,don’t need a second reminder.”
His fingers slide up your ribs, warm and grounding. You sigh, leaning into him, the weight of everything that came before slowly peeling off in layers.
“Okay,” you whisper. “New beginning.”
A grin spreads across his face, soft and just a little smug. “New beginning,” he echoes, pressing his forehead to yours. “And this time, I’m not going anywhere.”
Outside, the wind rattles the window just enough to remind you it’s still summer but on your shoulder, spring’s already started again.
“Is it weird that it doesn’t feel like we’ve been apart?” You ask, he’s still between your legs, lips trailing kisses across the ink and up the side of your neck
“I don’t think so, we’ve always been in sync since we met. I don’t think any amount of time apart can undo that, at least for me anyways.”
His voice is warm against your skin, roughened slightly from emotion and the low, lazy rhythm of his kisses. You shiver as his lips reach the space just beneath your ear again, that spot he always seemed to remember without being told.
You smile, fingers threading through the hair at the nape of his neck. “I thought I imagined that,” you murmur. “Like maybe it was just one-sided. I felt everything too much and you didn’t feel it at all.”
Jungkook pulls back just enough to look at you, eyes searching your face like he’s trying to memorize every piece of it. “No,” he says, firmly. “You didn’t imagine a damn thing.”
Your breath hitches.
“I felt it from the beginning,” he continues, voice quieter now, almost like a confession. “I just… just didn’t know how to handle it. You weren’t something casual for me. Never were.”
You study him, the vulnerability in his expression, the way he’s holding you like he’s afraid if he lets go, you’ll vanish. And maybe it’s a little crazy how easily things have fallen back into place, how his touch still feels like a home you never stopped missing but it’s not scary. Not anymore.
“You’re still a dumbass for leaving without saying anything,” you say, though there’s no heat in your voice.
He nods, solemn. “Biggest mistake of my life.”
“And showing up in my apartment like that?”
“Now that, I don’t regret.”
You laugh softly, shaking your head. “Idiot.”
“Your idiot,” he says with a smirk, leaning down to kiss you again and this time, it’s unhurried, full of something deep and certain.
You let yourself melt into it, arms around his shoulders, legs still curled around his hips. It doesn’t feel like starting over, not really. It feels like picking up a book you loved and finding you still remember all the words by heart.
And if your tattoo means new beginnings, maybe this one—this version of you and him—is finally the one that sticks.
“You knew what you were doing coming over here in this skirt” he mumbles.
“You told me not to go home after I met with the girls. It’s not like you gave me a choice to go home and shower.”
Jungkook chuckles low in his throat, the sound vibrating against your neck as his fingers skim the hem of your skirt, bunching it slightly. “You say that like I’m complaining.”
You arch a brow at him, a teasing glint in your eyes. “You kind of are, accusing me of seduction when I was just following orders.”
He leans in, lips brushing your jawline. “Don’t play innocent. You knew what that skirt would do to me.”
You laugh, breath catching as he kisses behind your ear again. “It’s not my fault you’ve developed a thing for short skirts and oversized shirts.”
“Oh no, that’s your fault entirely,” he groans, sliding a hand beneath the fabric now, palm warm against your thigh. “You wore this knowing damn well I haven’t seen you since Monday.”
“And you could’ve waited until after the movie,” you say, voice thinner now, more breath than words.
“Why would I do that,” he murmurs, “when you walked in smelling like warm vanilla and trouble, legs out like you wanted me to lose my mind?”
You gasp as his hand grazes higher. “Kook…”
He kisses you again, hot and full of intent. “You came over here like a walking fantasy and expected me to behave? That’s cute.”
You grin against his mouth. “I am cute.”
“You’re unfair,” he counters, finally lifting your skirt all the way and settling back between your legs like he’s found his favorite place in the world. “And mine.”
You don’t argue because you know he’s right and you want to be his problem. Again and again.
Your back arches slightly as his hands grip your thighs, spreading you wider with an ease that sends a pulse straight through your core. There’s something in the way he looks at you—like he’s starving, like you’re the only thing he’s ever really wanted—and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t make you ache.
“You keep looking at me like that,” you murmur, fingers threading into the strands of his hair, “and we’re not making it through even ten minutes of this so-called movie night.”
Jungkook laughs softly against your skin, but it’s low and rough, like his restraint is hanging by a thread. “Sweetheart, the second you walked through that door, movie night was already canceled.”
His lips find yours again, this time more desperate, more demanding. Like he’s making up for every single day he had to pretend he was okay not touching you like this. You match his pace, hands roaming his back, nails grazing skin and muscle like muscle memory and in a way, it is.
It’s familiar and electric all at once.
You break the kiss just enough to whisper, breathless, “You always this greedy when you miss me?”
He grins, pupils blown wide. “Only when you show up in my bed like a dream I’m scared I’m about to wake up from.”
You reach up, thumb tracing his bottom lip. “Then you better hold on, Jeon.”
His grin fades into something more serious then—something full of want and reverence and a little bit of awe.
“Already am,” he says, and when he kisses you this time, it’s deeper. Slower. Like he’s not just trying to have you but like he’s trying to keep you.
He presses down on you, his hard length pressing against the shorts you wore under your skirt to avoid flashing anyone in public and you moan into his mouth.
“Tease,” you mumble.
Jungkook chuckles against your lips, the sound rich and smug, like he’s thriving off the way your body reacts to his—off the way your thighs tighten around his waist, the way your hands clutch at his back like you need something to ground you.
“Me?” he breathes, nipping gently at your bottom lip. “You’re the one who showed up in a skirt that short and booty shorts this tight acting like I wasn’t gonna lose my mind.”
You huff a laugh, gasping again when he rolls his hips, grinding into the pressure point he knows drives you crazy. “I wore them so I wouldn’t flash strangers, not to make you feral.”
“Well,” he grins, dragging his mouth down to your neck again, “you accomplished both.”
You arch into him, toes curling as his hand sneaks under the band of your shorts, fingers skimming along skin that’s suddenly way too hot. “You really have no self-control, huh?”
“Not when it comes to you,” he murmurs, kissing just beneath your jaw, voice rough with want. “Not when you’re laid out under me like this,already moaning, already mine.”
Your breath hitches at that, the heat in your belly twisting tighter. “You keep saying that.”
He lifts his head, eyes dark and focused entirely on you. “Because it’s true.”
And when he kisses you again, slow but devastating, you realize you don’t want him to stop saying it.
Because with the way you’re wrapped around him—how your body fits against his like it was made for this—you’re his and he’s very much yours.
“Take it off,” you say as you reach behind you and easily unhook your bra and toss it somewhere on his bed.
Now, Jungkook would usually consider himself an ass man but when it came to you he suddenly became an everything man and your boobs were his favorite pillows and stress balls of all time.
Jungkook lets out a low, reverent groan the second your bra hits the bed, his eyes dropping like gravity’s got a hold on him and all he can do is follow.
“Fuck,” he mutters, almost to himself, palms immediately finding their way to your chest like muscle memory. He squeezes gently, thumbs brushing over your nipples, and the smirk that curls onto his face is downright sinful when he hears the way you gasp.
“You do this on purpose,” he says, leaning down to press open-mouthed kisses across the tops of your breasts. “Wear this little outfit… toss that bra like you’re not trying to kill me.”
“I was just trying to get comfortable,” you lie, breathless, and he huffs a disbelieving laugh against your skin.
“Comfortable?” He closes his mouth around one nipple, sucking just hard enough to pull another moan from you. “Baby, this is the opposite of comfort. This is suffering. Beautiful, slow, brain-melting suffering.”
Your back arches into his touch, hands threading back into his hair again as his mouth works you over like he’s found religion in the curve of your body.
“Not my fault your self-control’s hanging by a thread,” you murmur, but your voice is uneven now, every word laced with the kind of heat that matches the way he’s touching you like he can’t decide between worship and ruin.
He pulls back just enough to look at you, lips slick and eyes wild.
“Oh, it snapped the second you walked in,” he says, voice low and wrecked. “and you’re gonna pay for that.”
You grin, breathless and drunk on the way he’s looking at you. “Then shut up and collect your debt, Jeon.”
His mouth crashes into yours again, hot and greedy.And this time? There’s no teasing left,only intent.
Your shorts and underwear disappear next but he leaves your skirt on as he pushes you further up the bed and settles on his stomach. He wraps both of his arms around your waist and pulls you down until your exposed heat is right in front of his face.
Both of your legs are tossed over each of his shoulders as his head disappears beneath the pleats of your skirt.His breath fans hot against your center before he even touches you, and the anticipation alone has you clenching around nothing, your fingers twisting into the sheets above your head.
“Fuck…” he groans, more to himself than to you, like he’s witnessing something divine.
Your skirt drapes over his head like a veil, and for a moment it’s almost comical—almost—until his tongue makes its first slow, deliberate pass through your folds and you forget how to breathe.
Your hips jerk, a whimper escaping your lips, and Jungkook just tightens his grip around your waist, locking you in place like he knew you’d try to run.
“Stay still,” he mumbles under your skirt, voice muffled and wrecked with want. “Lemme taste you properly.”
And taste you he does.
He’s relentless, tongue lapping at you with a hunger that borders on obsessive like he’s been dreaming about this every night since the last time and now he’s making up for lost time. The soft drag of his tongue, the way he teases your clit with slow, purposeful flicks before switching to the kind of pressure that makes your back arch off the bed tells you that he knows exactly what he’s doing.
Your thighs tremble on either side of his head, the grip you have on the sheets now white-knuckled, and all you can do is moan his name over and over like a prayer.
“God, Jungkook—”
He hums, clearly pleased, the vibration shooting straight through you.
You swear he smiles before he dives in deeper, tongue fucking you with such focus and ferocity it’s criminal. Every stroke, every sound—your skirt still hiding the sight of him but somehow making it worse—has you spiraling fast.
“You’re-fuck-you’re obsessed,” you gasp, legs shaking.
He pulls back just enough to breathe, his voice low and wrecked. “With this? With you? Baby, I’ve been starving.”
He buries himself in you again, and this time, he doesn’t stop. Not until you’re crying out his name, body shaking, pleasure crashing over you in wave after relentless wave.
Jungkook doesn’t come up for air until you’re completely undone.
“Fuck, Koo…baby I can’t. N-no more” you whine thighs shaking and threatening to close around his head.
“One more baby, just one more and I’ll fuck you. Promise.”
He groans like the sound of your voice alone could get him off, his grip around your waist tightening as he drags you impossibly closer, locking you in place like you belong to him—which, in this moment, you absolutely do.
“You can,” Jungkook says when you repeat that you can’t, voice thick with lust and unrelenting focus. “You’re doing so fucking good for me, just give me one more. Just one.”
You’re not sure if it’s the way he praises you—low and sweet and filthy all at once—or the way his tongue swirls over your clit like he’s got something to prove, but your body doesn’t listen to your mouth.
Your thighs tremble around his head as another whimper slips from your lips, your fingers tangled in the bedsheets like you’re holding on for dear life. “Kook-fuck, I-!”
He hums, lips closing around your clit and sucking gently—just enough to tip you over the edge again.
Your body convulses as you squirt,the orgasm ripping through you so fast and intense it leaves you gasping, eyes squeezed shut as your hips buck up against his face on pure instinct.
Jungkook holds you steady through it, eating you through your high like a man possessed, like he needs it, needs you, more than air.
Only once your body finally slumps into the bed—wrecked and twitching and breathless—does he emerge from beneath your skirt, lips shiny, face and chest dripping in you; eyes blown wide, pupils dark with something primal.
“Fuck, look at you,” he murmurs, crawling up over you, pressing soft kisses to your thighs, your stomach, your chest like he’s trying to soothe the very fire he started. “You’re unreal.”
You blink up at him, lips parted, chest heaving, voice a broken whisper. “You said you’d fuck me after that…”
He smirks,dark, slow, and unbearably smug. “And I always keep my promises, baby.”
Then he’s reaching for your skirt, and you already know that you’re not making it through the night in one piece.
Jungkook tosses the skirt somewhere behind him without looking, too focused on you, on the way your body is still trembling beneath him, on the way your chest rises and falls like you’ve just been through something life-altering. And in a way, you have.
He leans down and kisses you, slower this time—sweet and reverent, like he’s trying to let you catch your breath before he takes it again.
“Still with me?” he murmurs against your lips, his voice all husk and honey.
You nod, dazed, fingers reaching up to frame his face, brushing damp strands of hair off his forehead. “Barely.”
His grin is pure trouble. “Good. I want you like this. Wrecked and soft and only thinking about me.”
You roll your eyes, weakly. “Cocky much?”
“Confident,” he corrects, reaching down between your bodies. And then finally, you feel the thick press of him against your slick folds, and your eyes flutter closed, a soft gasp escaping you.
“God, finally,” you breathe.
Jungkook groans, eyes locked on you like you’re the only thing that exists. “You’re still so fucking wet,” he says, almost in awe. “Gonna slide right in, baby. Gonna fuck you slow.”
He pushes in, inch by inch, and you swear you feel every second of it—your body stretching to accommodate him, still pulsing from your last orgasm. He’s big, he always is, but right now he feels like too much and just right all at once.
Your legs wrap around his waist, locking him in, and the moan that slips from your lips is more of a cry than anything else. “Koo-fuckkk-you feel…”
He kisses your neck, your cheek, your temple, anchoring you to the bed as he starts to move, slow and deep, hips rolling like he’s savoring every thrust. “I know, baby. I know. Just let go, I got you.”
And you do,you let yourself feel it all, the burn, the stretch, the ache and the bliss. The way his body fits against yours, inside yours, like he was made to be here.
Jungkook moans into your neck, pace picking up just slightly, voice low and desperate. “You don’t even know what you do to me. I missed this. Missed you.”
You hold him tighter, fingernails digging into his back, voice breaking as your pleasure builds again, unbelievably fast.
“Then don’t let go,” you whisper, kissing him like it’s a promise.
He doesn’t plan to. Not that night or ever again.
“More…please baby. Harder.” you whine as he lifts your legs higher on his hips as he drives into you. This feeling was something you couldn’t recreate with your vibrator or other toys no matter how many nights you tried. Jungkook had completely rearranged your system to his liking and god did you miss it.
Jungkook groans—deep and ragged—at the sound of your voice, at the way you beg for him like he’s the only thing that can make you feel this good. And honestly? He is,he knows it and so do you.
“Yeah?” he pants, tightening his grip beneath your knees as he shifts forward, hitting deeper, harder just like you asked. “That what you need, baby? Me splitting you open like this?”
You cry out, back arching as he pistons into you with a new, ruthless rhythm, the bed creaking beneath the force of it. “Yes, Jungkook…fuck, yes,just like that!”
He’s wrecked, sweat dripping down his temples, jaw clenched as he watches your face contort in pleasure with every thrust. “You tried to replace me, didn’t you?” he mutters, voice low and breathless. “Thought your little toys could do what I do?”
You whimper, too far gone to deny it.
“Be honest,” he growls, fucking into you harder, now leaning over you so you’re folded beneath him, your thighs pushed back near your chest. “Did they make you feel like this?”
You shake your head desperately, nails clawing down his back. “No…never,fuck…they never—”
“That’s right.” His voice is pure grit, satisfaction and possession curling around every word. “Because this pussy knows who it belongs to.”
You moan louder, words crumbling as your body trembles beneath him, every nerve ending lit on fire. The sounds are messy now—you’re messy now, reduced to nothing but sensation and need and the maddening rhythm of his body claiming yours.
“Missed this,” Jungkook grits out, eyes locked on the place where your bodies meet, where he disappears inside you over and over. “Missed the way you take me. Like you were fucking made for me.”
And maybe you were—because no one else ever felt like this, no one else ever ruined you this sweetly.
You can’t even form a warning before your climax crashes through you—hard and unforgiving—your entire body seizing around him.
Jungkook groans loud and deep, barely holding himself together. “That’s it, baby-fuck, I got you.”
He doesn’t slow down. He chases his own high through your trembling, overstimulated body—like you’re his favorite drug and he’s too far gone to stop now.
Because this isn’t just sex, not with Jungkook. It’s addiction, it’s ownership but most of all it’s home.
“Want it, baby, please.” he knows what you’re asking for and he knows he’ll give it to you but not without teasing you a bit first.
Jungkook smirks through his labored breaths, hips still rolling deep and slow, like he hadn’t just fucked you into oblivion. His eyes darken as he leans in, mouth brushing your ear.
“Want what, baby?” he murmurs, all sin and silk. “Gotta be specific.”
You whine, back arching beneath him, trying to rock your hips up to meet his, but his grip on your thighs keeps you pinned. “You know what I mean,” you gasp, voice wrecked. “Don’t make me say it.”
He chuckles darkly, kissing your temple, then your cheek, lips trailing lower until they hover just above your mouth. “Oh no, sweetheart,” he whispers, “you don’t get to beg like that and then get shy on me now.”
His next thrust is sharper, making your eyes roll back as another moan rips out of you. “Say it,” he growls. “Tell me what you want.”
Your pride’s long gone, scattered somewhere between your second orgasm and the moment he told you this pussy was his, so you give him what he wants.
“Want you to come inside me,” you breathe, clutching at his back. “Want to feel it. Please, Jungkook, need it.”
He groans loud, like the words just short-circuited every nerve in his body.
“You drive me crazy, you know that?” he growls, dropping his forehead to yours as his thrusts pick up again, fast and brutal now. “Fuck, you’re gonna make me come so deep…”
You tighten around him at the promise, moaning his name, and he damn near loses it on the spot.
“God, yes, baby. fuck…take it, take all of it,” he gasps, hips slamming into you with wild, desperate precision.
It only takes a few more thrusts before he’s spilling into you with a groan that sounds like your name broken apart, hips twitching as he rides it out, pressing as deep as he can go.
You feel everything—every pulse, every drop—and it sends aftershocks rolling through your body, making you gasp, legs still locked tight around him.He stays there for a long moment, chest heaving against yours, lips pressing soft, almost apologetic kisses to your collarbone, your jaw, your lips.
When he finally pulls back enough to look at you, his expression is soft, eyes dark but tender.
“Feel better now?” he murmurs, brushing a strand of hair from your face.
You smile, completely wrecked, thoroughly claimed, and still somehow ready for more. “I told you I missed you.”
Jungkook grins, kissing you again. “Baby… you’re never going that long without me again.”
“Yeah?” you ask. Smile on your face as you tighten your legs around him and use his distractedness to flip you both over.
Jungkook grunts in surprise, eyes going wide as his back hits the mattress and you settle on top of him, legs straddling his hips, looking like the prettiest mess he’s ever seen.
“Fuck,” he breathes, hands instinctively flying to your thighs, gripping them like he’s afraid you’ll disappear. His eyes rake over you, flushed, glowing, glistening with sweat and his release. “Yeah… definitely missed this.”
You smirk, leaning down to brush your nose against his. “Want more,” you murmur, voice dripping with sugar and sin.
Jungkook groans, head falling back against the pillow as his fingers flex on your skin. “You’re gonna kill me.”
“Maybe,” you whisper against his neck, kissing along the pulse hammering beneath his skin, “but what a way to go.”
You rock your hips slowly, letting the full sensitivity of him still inside you hit both of you at once and his strangled moan tells you everything you need to know.
“You’re so tight,” he hisses, fingers digging into your hips now, “still gripping me like your pussy knows I’m home.”
You hum, starting to ride him slow, deep—deliberate. “You said you wanted to stay inside me,” you whisper in his ear. “So I’m not letting you go yet.”
His whole body twitches beneath you, equal parts wrecked and obsessed. “You’re gonna make me come again,” he warns, voice breaking. “You’re insane.”
You tilt your head with a grin. “You love it.”
“I do,” he admits, hips bucking up into you, chasing the rhythm you’ve set. “God, I do.“
“Yeah?” you whisper, brushing your lips against his.
“Yeah,” he breathes, kissing you like he means it. “and I’m never letting you go again.”
You press your forehead to his, still moving on top of him, still trembling from the overstimulation and the heat between you.
“Good,” you whisper. “…cause I’m not done with you yet.”
“Fuck! Turn around for me baby,”
Jungkook’s voice is ragged, hoarse with desperation, dripping with the kind of hunger that makes your thighs tighten around him reflexively. His grip on your hips is vice-like now, holding you in place even as you try to grind down harder.
“Turn around for me,” he repeats, eyes locked on yours, nearly begging this time. “Wanna see that ass bounce, baby. Wanna watch you fuckin’ take me.”
Your smirk is slow and wicked, and it only gets deeper when you lean in and murmur right into his ear, “Didn’t even last five minutes on bottom.”
He groans—a beautiful, wrecked sound—as you pull back and slowly rise off of him, both of you gasping as you separate, just for a moment.
“Shit,” he hisses, watching you like a man possessed as you turn around, hands braced on his thighs as you slowly sink back down on his length, facing away from him now.
“Oh my god,” Jungkook chokes out, his hands immediately flying to your waist again, thumbs digging into the curves of your hips as he watches you take every inch.
“You like that, baby?” you tease, rolling your hips with intention, slow and deep, milking every sound from him.
“I love it,” he moans, thrusting up into you now, meeting your movements with an intensity that makes you cry out. “You feel fucking unreal.”
The sound of skin against skin fills the room now, lewd and loud, your breathless moans layered with his deep groans as your rhythm grows frantic.
“Look at you,” he pants, one hand sliding from your waist to your ass, gripping, guiding, loving every bounce. “This pussy was made to ride me like this.”
You’re trembling, both from overstimulation and the obscene stretch of him pounding into you from below, hitting every sweet spot like he’s got your entire body mapped out.
“I’m…fuck, I’m close again,” you gasp, barely able to hold yourself up as your thighs start to shake.
Jungkook thrusts up even harder, his pace feral now, hands pulling you back to meet each snap of his hips. “Then come on, baby,” he growls. “Give it to me. Wanna feel you fall apart again.”
You do, with a cry so loud and raw it leaves you both breathless. Your body seizes, clenching down around him so hard he curses violently and spills into you again, gripping you like he’s drowning in you.
And maybe he is because when your bodies finally collapse into each other, panting, spent, still trembling with aftershocks, Jungkook presses his lips to your spine and whispers…
“Still not done.”
He pulls you up onto your hands and knees pressing your back down to arch just the way he likes it and even though you’re tired you still find it in you to tease him by shaking your ass in his face. You both know what’s coming once he has you in this position and those dancer hips of his goes to work.
Jungkook groans the second you give that little shake, hands flying to your hips like instinct—ownership—as he stares down at you, chest heaving, eyes dark with something primal.
“You’re really gonna tease me right now?” he mutters, voice low and dangerous behind you. “After everything I just gave you?”
You laugh breathlessly, barely able to hold your weight on shaky arms, but the look you toss over your shoulder is pure sin. “Thought you said you missed this.”
He growls—actually growls—and the next second he’s pressing a firm hand between your shoulder blades, pushing your chest into the mattress until your back arches deep, presenting him with his favorite view. The sight of you like this—ass up, legs trembling, slick and swollen and still dripping from everything he’s already done—nearly sends him over the edge again.
“Stay just like that,” he grits out. “You wanna act like a brat? You’re gonna take all of it.”
And then he’s sliding back into you in one smooth, devastating thrust.
You cry out into the sheets, back arching even more as his hips slam into yours, that dancer rhythm kicking in immediately, precise, brutal, relentless.
Every stroke is deep, intentional, the slap of skin-on-skin echoing off the walls like an applause. Your nails claw at the sheets, your body rocking forward with each thrust, completely at his mercy.
“Fuck, Jungkook…baby,you’re so—”
“Loud,” he pants, smirking even through his own wrecked moans. “You’re so loud, baby. You want the whole building to know who’s fucking you like this?”
You whimper, voice raw and ragged. “Y-Yes—yes, let them hear it. I don’t care.”
He groans at that, snapping his hips faster, one hand reaching around to toy with your clit while the other keeps your hips locked against him. “That’s right,” he growls, breathing harsh against your spine. “Let them hear how good I make you feel. Let them know you’re mine.”
The pleasure is overwhelming—white-hot and consuming—and you’re coming again before you can even warn him, a strangled moan ripping from your throat as your entire body clenches around him like a vice.
He stutters in his rhythm, cursing, and buries himself deep one last time, spilling inside you for the third time with a loud, broken moan of your name.
You both collapse, tangled and shaking, breathless and coated in sweat, your body molded into the sheets, his weight heavy on your back.
For a long moment, the only sound in the room is your shared breathing—uneven, wrecked.
And then Jungkook kisses the back of your neck and whispers with a hoarse little laugh, “Still not done…”
“I have a studio session tomorrow, you menace.” you laugh trying to pull away from him. You had already lost count of how many times he made you come for the night and you knew if he continued you wouldn’t be sitting or walking right for the next few days.
Jungkook laughs against your shoulder, breath still hot on your skin, arms tightening around your waist as he keeps you locked beneath him. “And? You’ll sound better relaxed,” he mumbles, trailing kisses down your spine like he’s not the reason your legs feel like jelly.
You squirm weakly in his hold, whimpering when he grinds against your still-sensitive core, making your whole body twitch. “Koo…please,” you gasp, laughing through the overstimulation. “You’re actually insane.”
He grins against your skin, voice dripping with smug satisfaction. “Insane for you. You started this, showing up looking like a walking wet dream.”
“You told me not to go home first!”
“And you listened,” he chuckles darkly. “That’s on you, baby.”
You try again to wiggle free, but he’s already rolling you onto your side, pulling you flush against him like you belong there, wrapped up in his arms, bare and exhausted, skin warm and sticky from every way he’s touched you.
“You’re evil,” you murmur, eyes fluttering shut.
He kisses your temple, soft now. “Yeah, but I make you come like no one else.”
You groan and shove at his chest with the strength of a wet noodle. “If I show up to the studio tomorrow and can’t hit a single note without thinking about your damn tongue—”
“Then I’ve done my job,” he says proudly, hugging you closer. “And you’ll be thinking about me every time you sit down, too.”
You laugh, face buried in his chest now. “I hate you.”
“Nah,” he says, voice low, hand stroking your back as your breathing starts to slow. “You love me. Admit it.”
You pause, letting the silence stretch between you.
Then, just loud enough for him to hear,
“…Maybe.”
He grins like you just handed him the world. “That’s all I needed.”
And as sleep starts to pull you under—sore, satisfied, and wrapped in his warmth—you feel him pulling out of you and you groan clenching around him.
“Shh, lemme clean you up baby. Maybe we should shower again and I need to change the sheets.”
You whimper at the sudden emptiness, your body twitching instinctively, oversensitive and greedy even after everything he’s given you tonight. “God, you’re gonna be the death of me,” you mumble into his chest, clenching involuntarily around him.
Jungkook groans at the feeling, forehead dropping to your shoulder. “Don’t do that,” he warns, voice hoarse. “You’re already trying to suck me back in.”
You grin weakly. “Maybe I am evil.”
“Yeah?” he mutters, pressing a lazy kiss to your shoulder blade. “Then we deserve each other.”
He sits up with a sigh, rubbing at his face before reaching for the towel he tossed earlier. You hear the rustle of fabric, the soft shuffle of him moving around the bed, and then his gentle hands parting your thighs as he crouches between them with that same care he didn’t show while ruining you earlier.
“Hold still, baby,” he murmurs, voice tender now. “Just cleaning you up.”
You flinch slightly at the first contact, hissing through your teeth. “Still so sensitive…”
“I know.” His tone is all softness now, soothing, the towel warm and damp as he carefully wipes you down. “You took me so well tonight. So fucking good for me.”
Your eyes flutter shut at the praise, your heart blooming even as your body shudders through the afterglow.
He tosses the towel aside and leans over to kiss your belly, your hip, your thigh—little tokens of apology and affection—before crawling off the bed entirely.
“C’mon,” he says, voice playful but affectionate. “Let’s shower before I throw us both into clean sheets and ruin them all over again.”
You groan. “I won’t survive another round.”
“We’ll make it quick,” he smirks, reaching out to pull you up by the wrists, your limbs heavy and limp. “Five minutes.”
“You’re a liar.”
“A hopeful liar,” he corrects with a wink.
Still, you let him guide you off the bed, legs wobbling just like he knew they would. He catches you with a proud little sound, arms wrapping around your waist like muscle memory.
You glance back at the bed, sheets tangled and ruined, evidence of every round and every promise kept.
“Tomorrow,” you warn him as you stumble into the bathroom. “No touching.”
“We’ll see,” he grins, turning the water on. “Depends on how cute you look when you’re singing off-key thinking about my tongue.”
You don’t respond, not because you don’t have a comeback, but because your knees almost buckle again.
He sees it, of course he does and he grins like he’s already won.
“Fucking menace.” you mumble as he sits you on the toilet seat to handle your business and turns the water on for the tub instead of the shower.
“You hate baths.”
Jungkook glances over his shoulder with a lazy, smug grin as he tests the water temperature with his hand. “Yeah, I do,” he says, twisting the tap to the perfect warmth, steam already beginning to rise, “but you love them. And you can barely stand right now, so guess what? We’re compromising.”
You narrow your eyes at him, cheeks still flushed, legs still trembling from everything he put you through. “That’s not a compromise. That’s you getting what you want while pretending it’s for me.”
He raises a brow, stepping closer and leaning down to rest his hands on either side of your thighs, trapping you there. “Baby,” he murmurs, eyes dark and sticky-sweet, “I already got what I want.” His fingers brush the inside of your knee, thumb teasing gently over the bruises blooming on your skin. “Now I’m making sure you feel good. You deserve that too.”
Your sass falters for just a beat as warmth curls low in your stomach again—a different kind of warmth now, softer, more vulnerable than lust.
“Don’t get all sweet on me now,” you grumble, but your voice has lost its bite.
He smirks, brushing his nose against yours before pulling away. “Too late.”
He checks the water again, then plugs the tub and starts gathering your favorite bath products—the ones he pretends not to care about but somehow knows the exact scents of. Vanilla, soft musk, a hint of rose. He even grabs that overpriced foaming oil you only splurge on when you’re feeling emotionally wrecked.
“You’re a menace and a simp,” you say, watching him with a half-hearted pout as he pours the oil under the water.
He shrugs. “Only for you.”
When the tub is full and the scent of warm vanilla fills the air, he turns to you, arms open. “Come here.”
You groan, muscles aching, but let him scoop you up anyway like it’s the easiest thing in the world. He eases you into the tub with a gentleness that contrasts wildly with how he had you earlier, and when he climbs in behind you and pulls you back against his chest, you melt.
“This is illegal,” you mumble, sinking into the heat of the water, his arms wrapping around you, palms flat on your stomach.
“What is?”
“Being good at sex and aftercare. Pick a struggle.”
Jungkook chuckles, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Nah. I’m greedy. I want all your stars, not just one.”
You hum, eyelids heavy, body warm and floating. “You already have ‘em.”
And the way his arms tighten around you, holding you just a little closer?
Yeah. He knows.
“You coming to Jin-hyung’s concert this weekend?” He asks after a moment of silence.
“Can’t, I leave for Japan on Saturday morning.”
Jungkook stills behind you for a moment, his arms pausing in their gentle strokes across your stomach.
“You didn’t tell me that,” he says softly, not accusing, just surprised, a slight shift in his voice that only someone who knows him would catch.
You tilt your head slightly, letting it rest back against his shoulder. “Didn’t really come up, what with all the…well,” you gesture vaguely to the war zone that is your shared exhaustion and the bath you’re currently soaking in.
He huffs a quiet laugh, but it’s tinged with something thoughtful. “Work trip?”
“Mmhm,” you nod. “Couple meetings, studio sessions and an interview before I fly back.”
He presses a soft kiss to your temple. “When?”
“I’ll be back Tuesday night.”
Another pause.
“You want me to pick you up from the airport?”
Your chest warms. “You don’t have to, Kook.You get caught picking me up at the airport and both our asses are in deep shit. You don’t need to be getting dragged on the internet for being seen with a girl much less me.”
You knew how people would spin it especially the media, given that you weren’t full blooded Korean.
Jungkook exhales slowly, like he’s weighing his words before letting them go. His fingers trail lightly over your skin again, thoughtful, grounding. “First of all,” he says quietly, “If it’s about you being a little bit older than me or not fully Korean,I don’t give a shit. None of that mean anything to me, and it never did.”
You open your mouth to respond, but he keeps going.
“And second…” he pauses, then dips his head to kiss the curve where your neck meets your shoulder, lingering. “Let them talk. Let them spin it. They’ve got no idea what this actually is. They don’t see you taking care of me when I’m burnt out. Or how you tell me the truth when everyone else just tells me what I want to hear.”
You go still at that, lips parting.
“They don’t see what I see,” he murmurs, voice low, tender, and just a little raw. “They never will. And honestly? I’m kind of done pretending that matters.”
Your chest tightens, throat catching on something you can’t name.
“Kook…”
“I’m serious,” he says, shifting just enough so you can see the edge of his expression. His eyes are darker now, not with lust, but with clarity. “I’m not trying to plaster us across tabloids or post some grand reveal on Weverse. But I am saying I don’t want to keep treating you like some secret I have to hide in dark rooms and back entrances.”
Your heart thuds loud in your chest.
“I want to pick you up from the airport,” he says simply, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Not as Jungkook from BTS, but just as your…your man. If that’s okay with you.”
You turn your head then, looking up at him. His cheeks are a little flushed, his jaw tense. But his eyes?
Completely open. No mask, no hesitation.
“I’d like that,” you whisper, voice smaller than usual.
He grins softly, a little relieved, a little smug. “Yeah?”
You smile. “Yeah.”
His arms wrap around you a little tighter, pulling you close again until there’s no space left between your bodies, water sloshing gently around you.
“Good,” he whispers, nose nudging your hair. “Because I wasn’t asking.”
And just like that—wrapped in warm water, tangled in each other, tangled in something so real—you stop worrying about who might see.
Because between you and him,you know that the love is genuine.
