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Having a stupid, all-consuming crush is something that defines girlhood. Shoving everything of importance out of your way in order to see, or spend time with set crush is really the only fair option as a young girl. 

However, when the crush has lasted for almost a decade, and you still have yet to make any further progress… it borders on obsession. And it’s incredibly embarrassing.

You see, there’s this video store in town, this tiny, kind of grungy shop that contains every single piece of media imaginable. Old and dusty traveling magazines that no one bothers reading, records and CD’s you spend months saving up for… and what is seemingly a collection of every single movie ever made. 

And behind the counter of that blockbuster shop, there sits a boy you’ve been pining after since the sixth grade. 

Jeon Jungkook. A boy so painfully attractive and charming that he has simply ruined every other man for you, ever. And so incredibly out of reach that you feel like he’s more of a distant dream rather than a real human being. 

The first spark of attraction appeared a few weeks after your twelfth birthday. You saw him through your window, which overviews the park. And there he was, the sixteen-year-old Jungkook, lighting up a cigarette near the entrance, watching patiently over the narrow path as a girl with dark hair approached him. 

At your ripe age, this was the most erotic thing you’d ever seen. The way his hand snaked underneath her coat when she hugged him. How he seemingly whispered something in her ear, grinning back at her when she retracted. 

A few days later, you found out who the girl was. Tina Agnello’s cousin, who was in town for the week. You had overheard Tina talk about it during lunch break, sitting a few tables down from yours, and you almost choked on your yoghurt. 

“Isn’t fourteen a bit young for a sixteen-year-old?” you huffed, mostly to yourself. But your friend picked it up, frowning at you. 

“What are you talking about?” 

“Nothing.”

It shouldn’t really have surprised you that Jungkook grew up to be the town’s Don Juan. 

He became sort of a community ride… a town bike, if you’d like. At first, you maybe thought there was something incredibly wrong with him, like some serious mental problems. Because why else would he be pounding around town? 

But at fifteen, when you stumbled into the new video store in town, trying to escape the rain that had started pouring down outside, you unexpectedly fell head first into a real-life interaction with him. And weirdly enough, he seemed perfectly normal. Disgustingly charming, that is, but normal. 

“Sorry ‘bout that,” Jungkook’s voice wasn’t all that deep, but it was soft, curling low in your stomach. 

You stood leaning against the glass door, your wet hair clinging to your temples, droplets falling onto the floor. “What?”

He pointed towards the street behind you, “The rain.” 

Maybe it was your brain short-cutting, but you didn’t understand what he meant… like at all. Your brows furrowed, and you repeated your question. “What?” 

“It’s this thing I do to spark sales. Trap the costumers inside.”

“You make it rain?” 

He chuckled at his own joke, incredibly stupid, but also numbingly cute, “Yeah, I find rain-dances to be very affective.”

It made you kind of mad that this guy had a captivating personality on top of his unfair looks. It would’ve honestly been better if he was just a dumb, stupid idiot, sleeping around town. But he made you laugh… and made you buy unnecessarily amounts of items from his store.

Was he a good salesman? No… not necessarily. But he was so damn flirty that you thought he might marry you if you watched the Star Trek chronicles. 

And now, at your grown age of twenty fucking years old, your bookshelf is short of books and filled to the brim with Jungkook’s movie recommendations. It might be embarrassing, but it has become a weekly ritual. Every Saturday, you stop by his shop, return last week’s watch and pick up a new one. 

“Now, how was it?” he leans forward, bracing his elbows on the counter. His eyes smize at you, trying to read the expression on your face. 

You almost can’t answer because of how close he is. Even though you’ve known each other for five years, he still has this weird hold on you, and you have to clear your throat before you speak. “I liked that the bad guy’s name was Lord Humungus.” 

He presses his lips together, his lip ring getting caught in the motion, and his eyebrows rise high on his forehead. “Yeah?” he nods, teasingly, and you want to go home and puke and cry. “That’s all… or…?” 

The chuckle he lets out brushes against your face… yeah, he’s that close, and your brain short-circuits. Your eyes dart down to your hands, where the VHS tape dangles from your fingers, and you slide it across the counter. “It was better than the first one.”

“I told you it worked as a stand-alone, you didn’t have to bore yourself with the first,” he smirks, the smile tugging on only one side of his lips, bearing just a bit of his bunny-teeth. 

You shrug, “I like to make up my own opinions, thanks.”

“And how’s that working out for you?”

It might be a bizarre way to describe it, but his voice is laced with sex. Constantly. Like there’s always some hidden innuendo behind his words. And with the way he’s leaning forward, his biceps straining through the fabric of his navy uniform-tee, your mind runs laps, completely fogging and erasing every word you try uttering. So you just roll your eyes, trying to act casual. 

“Sorry if I don’t love macho-car-movies,” you scoff, letting your hands slip away from the counter only to tremble nervously at your sides. It’s like your whole body is vibrating just by being near him, and this isn’t anything new. It’s always been like that. He’s just that charming. 

Jungkook hums, nodding slowly before narrowing his eyes, a wondering look appearing on his face. Just to not seem like a lost sheep, you copy his facial expression and glower right back at him. 

“Mhm,” he bites down on the inside of his cheek, his eyes skimming over your face before traveling lower. You have to compose yourself, shifting a bit in your stance, trying not to burst into flames. Jungkook takes his time before he speaks, finally locking with your eyes again. “You’d watch anything I tell you to, right?”

Holy mother of god. Of course you nod. Because you’re an idiot, and you’re certain your voice is going to crack halfway through your answer. And when Jungkook smirks at your obvious flustered state of being, your pulse spikes. His tongue flicks over the metal in his mouth, inherently seductive, even if it isn’t intended to be, and you think you might have to go cry in the backroom. 

Then, without a word, he backs off from the counter and turns to the shelf behind him. He skims over the many cassettes in front of him, searching for something without speaking. You swallow behind him, finally freed from his captivating gaze, forced to stare at the way his back muscles move in waves underneath his tee while he stretches tall before the shelf. 

His tattooed arm reaches out for a tape high above him, but it hesitates before it once again falls back to his side, “It’s here somewhere…” 

You try waiting patiently for him to find whatever movie he’s looking for, but you can’t help yourself. Your gaze drifts, drops actually, and lands on his butt… unfortunately. It’s tightly hidden underneath his dark-washed jeans, accompanied by a pair of strong thighs. Such a nice and perky butt. Your head tilts a bit, taking in the view, if you’d like, tucking your bottom lip between your teeth. 

It’s a shame that this is the exact moment Jungkook gives up on his search and turns abruptly. Your eyes widen, and you flinch, hoping he didn’t just see the way you were drooling over the chiseled shape of his ass. 

But instead of commenting on your awkwardness, he drops to the ground, crouching down on the floor to inspect the hallow counter which contains several more blockbusters. 

He grunts and groans while his fingers flick through the options, never landing on his target. 

“Digging for gold?” you tease, boldly leaning over the counter to look at him. He doesn’t even meet your gaze, he just keeps searching, his eyebrows curled together in a knot on his forehead. 

“Give me a second.”

You hear him pulling out a large cardboard box, watching over as his muscles tense as he drags it forward. And with a grunt, he lifts it, getting up on his feet and dropping it onto the counter. As you peek over the edge of it, you see it’s filled to the brim with identical black CD-covers, just with different scribblings on the side. 

Jungkook’s slender fingers brush over the covers, flipping through the countless pieces until he finally grabs ahold of one. The one with the title Memento poorly written in white marker on the edge. 

“Ah, there you are.” He pulls out the piece from the pool of covers while letting out a sigh of relief. “Thought I’d lost her.”

You lift your chin, looking over at Jungkook who is seemingly lost in his own little world that only contains him and this very neutral tape. “Memento?”

“It’s fucking great.” His eyes dart up, meeting yours, and you almost chuckle at the way they light up. It’s such a cute thing for a guy to have a hobby, to be in love with something. That is of course if you look past the excruciating mansplaining that follows. “A man with short term memory loss—so the entire movie is shot backwards. From end to beginning. You learn the plot with him, it’s insane. He uses these post-it notes to keep track of time, place and faces. Revolutionary, I’ve neve—”

“Shush,” you rip the cover from his hands, cutting off his monologue. You know just how long he can go on if he’d like. There have been times where you’d wondered if he might be on the spectrum, given the fact that he’s constantly restless, and a complete nerd when he wants to, but you don’t like to dwell on that. It’s cute, and it obviously works for him, so you let him act a bit strange. “Let me find out for myself.”

“Mhm, brat.”

You nearly gush at the new nickname, your nostrils flaring as you breathe in deeply. Your hands fall to your sides, and you unconsciously sway a bit in your stance, not really sure if you want to end the interaction here, or if you want to stay, maybe fling yourself over the counter, straddle this man like a horse. The ladder might not be the best idea, so you start searching for coins that are buried deep in the tiny back pocket of your jeans, eager to get the hell out of this place. 

“4.99?” you ask, as if you don’t already know the price. You’re here every week, so it really is etched in your memory. But so is everything he tells you. 

Jungkook smirks, his gum-drop eyes narrowing, “On the house. Since Mad Max wasn’t really your thing.”

“Don’t be stupid, I’ll pay.”

“Keep your money, peach, I don’t want it.”

Ugh, you hate when he calls you that. Peach. It sounds like some awful pet name that your dad would call you. So you’d really like for him to stop, but the one time you asked him to, it seemingly just fueled him. So you pray that one day he might see you as someone other than this little girl who buys stuff from him without second guessing his opinion. Maybe he’ll one day see you as a woman. Yesss that would be good. And you already know what it is he loves to do with women. Half the moms in town has slept with him. 

Jesus your mind is wandering. You scrunch your nose, trying to act affronted by his arrogance, when really your mind is running through every woman in town who has gotten the taste of him. The jealousy blooming inside you is like a kid’s rage when they’re not allowed candy on a weekday. Why can’t you also have nice things?

“Fine, but I’ll repay you if I love it.”

“Deal,” he nods, his large hand reaching out before him, gesturing for you to shake it, “And don’t worry, peach. You’ll love it.”

Your entire apartment smells of butter and salt as you wait for the microwave’s timer to drop. There’s not a lot you know about this movie, but popcorn is always a good idea, so you’re hoping it won’t be too disturbing, ruining your appetite. 

The CD is waiting for you inside the player, all you need to do is pad over your floor, sink down into the couch cushions and press play on your remote. 

You’ve already brushed off all other plans for the night, your friends scolding you for throwing your life away only to watch some mediocre movie to please Jungkook. “You’re a source of income, you buy everything from him.” 

Hah, bet they’ll be sorry when they hear you actually got this one for free. Mhm. Or maybe not. It’s been five years… it’s the least he could do. 

The timer dings. Yey, showtime. You open the microwave door, the warm and salty smell travels through the air and settles deep within you. You grab the paper bag, tearing it open with a quick tug. Now you’re ready. 

The cushions give in the moment your body meets the couch, and you immediately melt with them, sinking further and further down. You grab onto the soft, pink blanket that’s thrown carelessly over the armrest, and pull it over your body, letting yourself get incredibly comfortable. Although this ritual, watching a movie every Saturday, cozying up in your living room, is supposedly ‘me time’… you know deep inside you do this for him. Your friends are right, you do want his approval. So you’re hoping you’ll like this. Let’s watch, shall we?

You stretch your arm out, reaching for the remote control, and you press play. 

The screen stays black for a moment. No music, no production mark. Weird. You wait for a moment, resting your head back on the soft cushion behind you. Still nothing plays. Mhm, maybe he gave you an empty disk? Or maybe your TV is broken?

You’re about to press play again, wondering if you maybe hit a wrong button the first time… when your whole body freezes. 

The tape starts rolling, but it’s not Memento. Or, it possibly can’t be. That would be too bizarre. Because what plays on the screen is an amateur video… of Jungkook. Seemingly at home, staring straight into the camera, so close that his face blocks all surroundings. All you see is the concentration on his face as he fumbles with the record button, his eyes wide and searching. 

You chuckle. Cute, he misplaced the CD. But what’s not so cute is when Jungkook moves out of frame. 

Ho-ly-shit. 

Your jaw actually drops, your mouth hanging wide open as you take in what’s playing on the television before you. Jesus fucking christ. When Jungkook is out of sight, you realize the camera is placed in his bedroom, and the sight has you gasping for air, your hand flying to cover your mouth. Because on his bed, there lies a girl… in only her underwear. 

“Am I in the frame?” she asks gently, looking up at Jungkook who is still out of sight, her eyes doe-like and glistening. Pure seduction. 

“Mhm,” Jungkook hums, and finally he moves forward, ushering for her to move further down the bed to make room for him by her side. And you think you might actually cry when he’s back on camera. 

Walking into frame, the sight of him has your eyes widening, the hand covering your mouth slowly dragging down your chin. Leaving you gaping. 

Jungkook is completely naked. Butt-ass-naked. On camera. And fully erect, that is. He walks over to the bed, eyes locked with the girls’, his large hands hanging by his side. 

It’s not a modest sight. He looks absolutely insane. His shoulders broad, arms straining with veins and muscle, while his torso is rather lean, a small waist accompanied by a set of washboard abs. But that’s not really what steals your breath away. Because as he’s completely naked, your eyes immediately go to his abdomen. His hips are beautifully defined, his thighs chiseled and muscular, and his cock. Well, that’s just unfair. 

He’s huge when erect, thick and heavy, the tip of him a beautiful, deep red, and as he moves closer, you see the leaking precum that drips from him, running down his veiny shaft. 

You immediately pause the video, too stunned to do anything else, but that doesn’t really help as the still-frame of Jungkook’s heavy cock and deep, lust filled eyes continues to show on screen. So you turn the whole television off instead. 

The screen flatlines, and you’re left frozen on the couch. 

What on gods green earth did you just watch. And why the fuck did Jungkook give this to you. It has to be a mistake. He couldn’t possibly know he gave you this? It’s just a horrible fail, he misplaced the CD. Put it in the wrong cover. What the hell, you don’t even know how to make this sound reasonable. 

Your eyebrows have almost reached your hairline, and your mouth still hangs wide open. The popcorn by your side remains untouched. Because you just simply can’t bring yourself to indulge in a snack right now, as you think you might vomit. Not because you’re disgusted… it’s the other way around actually. What you just saw has you feeling dizzy, a low, curling sensation building low in your stomach… and that’s what you find disturbing. 

He probably never intended for anyone to ever see this, and here you are, on a Saturday, all snuggled up on your couch, watching his homemade porno. 

You can’t be doing this. Let’s stop here. Here, but no further. You inhale deeply, straightening your posture as your torso lifts slowly from the couch, resting your elbows on your knees. The curling pleasure in your stomach has turned into a deep and horrific realization that this is such an invasion of privacy that you should probably be locked up for good. Even though you never intended to watch this, you still did, and you feel evil. 

The black screen stares back at you. Your pulse thunders in your eardrums, you can practically hear your heart leaping out of your chest. As you reach for the remote, optioning to press ‘retract disk’, you stop. Something inside you stills. An evil thought forms. 

This is like the marshmallow test. A kid with an unlimited access to a big bowl of marshmallows, which is in your case a recording of Jungkook finding his own release. Okay. Dilemma. Do you stop here, tell him about the mistake, return the tape immediately. You should. You definitely should. 

Or do you continue? He won’t know just how much of it you saw…

You’ll obviously return it. Apologize. You check the small watch standing on the coffee table. It reads 7:32. The shop closes at eight. Okay. You have plenty of time. You just need to see what you’re dealing with here. Right? 

You’re evil. But it’s impossible, it’s like having a gold mine before you, no one to stop you, not a single person in sight telling you for the love of god, woman, get a grip. 

Your fingers curl around the remote… before you ultimately press ON — play — fast forward. 

The screen turns back on, the recording forwards in quick frames, and you shut one eye as if that blocks out your shame and guilt. You land on a still that seems inviting. The girl, on all fours, Jungkook propped up behind her. 

His hand comes up to his mouth. He sucks in his cheeks before spitting out a glob of saliva, moving his glistening fingers to the girl’s heat, which is perched in the air before him. Jungkook looks down at the view, gliding his fingers through her folds, immediately having her cry out with pleasure. 

“Sshhh, baby, not yet. Want you crying on my dick.”

You shudder at the sound of his voice through the crispy speaker, his tone teasing with a hint of frustration. Your lips press together as you watch him line himself up, the girl’s face crinkling before it falls forward, burying her head in the pillow. 

He thrust inside her with a grunt, his mouth falling open with a strained moan as he’s balls deep inside her. She whines a muted scream into the pillow, her fists clenching around the sheets. He’s probably too big for her. 

Jungkook chuckles at her pleasure-filled misery, starting out with deep and slow grinds before pounding into her. The sounds are wile, having you turn down the volume with embarrassment, afraid your neighbors might tune in. Your jaw is practically on the floor as you watch Jungkook’s facial expressions. He’s smiling. His eyebrows curl together on his forehead as he plunges forward, retreating shallowly just to snap his hips against her ass once again. 

Jesus. You press your legs together, trying to fight the obvious burn in your abdomen. Suddenly, your breath catches. 

Jungkook looks up from the view of his cock driving into the girl’s heat… and his eyes lock with yours. Well, not yours, but he stares back at the camera, his nostrils flaring as he breathes in and out. 

This just got increasingly more embarrassing. You’re indulging in something that feels very illegal here, so can he please look away? As if he’s watching you through the screen, your throat tightens. You can’t bring yourself to look away, it’s like a car crash. You can’t not stare at it. Your eyes flick from his face, to the way the muscles of his torso tighten with every snap of his hips. His palms run over the curve of her ass before it comes down to smack hard, causing her to tip her head back with a yelp. She’s so lost in pleasure that she can’t even talk. 

But he does… and your brain-activity cuts short. 

“Feel dirty?” 

Huh? You still at his words. 

He speaks again, grunts actually, “Filthy girl, wishing this was you.”

Oh my god. He’s talking to the viewer. He’s looking directly at the camera and speaking to you. Or whoever’s watching this. This was intended to be seen. Oh my god. Insert viewer porn. 

You’re very certain this wasn’t for you to see, but someone was in mind when making this. Jungkook’s fingers curl around her hips as he drives harder and harder and harder into her cunt, the sound of skin on skin almost blocking out his next words. 

“Wish it was my dick instead of your tiny, little fingers?” he growls, wincing as the girl wrapped around him clenches, milking him as he pounds into her. His words are stolen from him for just a second, before he bites down on his lips, continuing. “Still want you to cum for me, baby, want you to cum all over yourself.”

Help, you’ve probably fast-forwarded a bit too far into the tape, you didn’t know you were supposed to be touching yourself. Yeah, you won’t be doing that. It would just feel all too wrong. 

You shift a bit in your seat, breath hitching as you feel how sensitive you’ve grown to any form of friction that brushes against your body. Jesus, you should turn this off, it has gotten really strange. Jungkook keeps looking directly at the camera, and although his eyes show nothing but need and desire, you kind of feel as though you’re being judged. 

His moves turn frantic, and you realize the girl bent before him climaxes, screaming out, calling out his name in a row of desperate whines. This just fuels him to keep going, now forgetting all about the camera, his eyes darting down to her ass while his cock disappears inside her again and again and again. 

He’s about to come. Your eyes widen as you see his face turn flushed, the sounds he releases being nothing short of grunted whimpers, desperate to find his own release. It’s fucking overwhelming, watching as the girl goes limp before him, listening to the sinful yet beautiful noises he’s producing. 

Again you repeat here, but no further. 

The remote has been resting in your soft grip ever since you turned the TV back on, and with a subtle press of your thumb — the screen goes black. 

Okay. What you just saw might’ve just ruined your relationship on every level. You just electrocuted your tiny and insignificant bond, hoping it might spark something inside you. It did… but that only makes everything worse. And, sorry, are we just brushing over the fact that he’s making porn on his free time?

You’re quite overwhelmed, every forming thought being overpowered by another, more horrific one. But what you wish the strongest, is for this to just be a mistake. For you to be the idiot in this situation, sitting through about ten minutes of Jungkook’s sextape. Not for him to gift you this… knowing what’s on the disk, knowing you’re going home to watch him get his dick wet. That’s a whole other layer to this very weird scene that you don’t really want to take into consideration right now. 

All you know is that his shop closes in about twenty minutes, and you can’t let this tape marinade in your video player. You’re going to have to return it, and that is tonight. 

You feel like you’re about to melt with the snow that creaks underneath your boots. The CD-cover is buried in the pocket of your coat, burning its way into the fabric like some constant reminder of what an awful human being you are. 

You’ve already thought over the conversation. You are to tell him about the mix-up, apologize, and sadly never show your face again. The two of you have had a good run, but it’s over now. There’s no way in hell you’ll be able to ‘casually’ rent a dvd from him every week when all you can picture is his face when he’s about to… jesus, let’s not even go there.

Why did you do it — why, why, why, you stupid meatball of a woman. Why did you have to let your curiosity get the best of you?

You can see him through the windows of the store as you cross the street. He’s alone (thank god), so it’ll be less humiliating for you to admit the horrible mishap. Your breath leaves in a fog as you exhale, your mouth shaping itself in an ‘o’ as you reach the glass door. You inspect Jungkook, who stands behind the counter with a pen perched between his fingertips as he notes down whatever on a piece of paper.

Let’s do this. It won’t be that awful. You’re a grown woman, you can own up to your mistakes.

“I’m sorry!” 

Jesus. The apology sort of just tumbles out of you as you push the door open, mingling with the overhead bell that notifies your arrival. You’re not sure if yelling out that you’re sorry is the best way to start this conversation, but it’s too late to take it back now. Even though you want nothing more than to grab the exclaim by its neck and shove it back down your throat. 

Jungkook’s gaze lifts along with his eyebrows, staring over at you as you stand covered in snow at his doorstep. It hits you that this is sort of similar to your first official meet, you drenched in bad weather at the door, Jungkook unbothered and dry behind the cashier. Oh how you miss those times, when you were just a girl with a stupid crush, blissfully unaware. Nostalgia will be the death of you. 

As you haven’t really gotten to the next part of your apology, Jungkook clears his throat, his eyebrows forming in a confused knot high on his forehead, “You’re sorry?”

“I’m sorry!” you repeat, fully entering his shop, hurrying over to Jungkook while leaving sad and wet little footprints behind you. It seems to amuse him that you’re completely out of breath and quite frankly horrified, as he tongues his cheek watching the way you rush over to him. You tuck a few loose strands of hair behind your ears, ignoring the way your cheeks flush when fully exposed — even though it’s probably due to your mortification, you can brush it off as you going red by the cold.

You stop a few steps before the counter, chest heaving underneath your coat, and now that you’re here… you’ve forgotten your prepared monologue. What the hell, you know the basics of it. Let’s just give it a try.

“Euh—uh…” you stutter, now realizing you have no idea how to actually tell him this while looking him dead in the eyes. Hello, Jungkook, yes, it is true — I did in fact watch you pound away at some girl I don’t know. Yes, I could have turned it off, yes I realize that now. No, I don’t have any manners. 

Jungkook frowns before you. Maybe he’s wondering if you slipped on ice on your way over, if you maybe cracked your skull open and that small bits and pieces of your consciousness is slowly seeping out of you. He crosses his arms loosely and leans over the counter, resting on his forearms. “Ah, I see,” he teases, grinning at the way your mouth hangs open. 

This is getting more embarrassing by the minute. You try snapping out of it, putting one hand out in front of you, a flat palm. Okay here it goes. 

“You gave me the wrong tape.” 

Your shoulders slump the moment the words leave you, finally ridding you of the heavy burden. All you hope is that he might not ask about the tape, that he’ll take it back, maybe watch over it in private, realize his mistake and then not wonder why you’re not returning to his shop. 

Because you quite frankly can’t ever set foot in here after what you just watched, not when all you can picture is the way his eyebrows crease when the girl wrapped around him pulsates, spasms, sucking him dry. Fuck, it was beautiful, but oh so inappropriate. So wildly inappropriate.  You can’t ever see him the same way. Not that he was some virgin Mary before this, you’ve always known what kind of guy he was. But knowing he makes his own pornos just makes it absolutely impossible for you to keep your cool around him. 

Jungkook bites down on his bottom lip, letting your words sink in. The piercing catches between his teeth, making a small clicking sound that cuts right through the unbearable silence that fills his shop. Pursing his lips, examining you, he prepares to speak. “Mhm, did I?” 

“Yeah,” you say, taking another step forward. You fish out the CD-cover buried in your pocket, handing it to Jungkook once you’re close enough to reach him. He doesn’t grab for it, so instead you place it down on the counter, trying not to look at it. It’s just this little black, plastic item — something that has managed to ruin your life (or so it seems like). “I just—I’m sorry. I wanted to return it as fast as I could.” 

He stares at you for a moment before reaching for the tape, fingers curling around the plastic then picking it up. You’re kind of weirded out by this. He doesn’t ask any questions, nor does the contains of the tape you watched seem to matter to him. Instead, his eyes skim over the cover’s back for a second, before he puts it down again and shoves it out of sight. 

“That’s too bad, huh?” His eyes meet yours again, and you almost faint. There’s this sparkle in them, a flash of glisten that disappears the moment he blinks. His eyebrows raise just a tad on his forehead, giving him just a teeny tiny pleading look. Alright, this has to be intentional — he knows what effect he has on women. 

You can’t deal with him anymore. It was fine before, when it was just a stupid crush. But it’s slowly turning into something else, something shameful. You want him so bad that you could cry, because there is no way in hell he would ever lay a hand on a girl like you. And now you’ve seen all of him — every admirable inch of him. There’s no way you can keep him in your life without going insane. 

Your lips curl into a thin line, and just as you’re about to speak, Jungkook cuts you off. 

“Is there anything I could do for you?” 

Quite frankly, no. You just need to be left alone, honestly. Curl up underneath your covers and die of embarrassment and lust. So you shake your head, trying to get out of this shop as quickly as possible. You don’t want the actual movie you rented, you just wanted to return the faulted one and flee the crime scene. 

“No-no,” you say, waving a hand in front of you. “There really isn’t. Again, I’m sorry.” 

You haven’t told him what the CD contains, but he’ll find out eventually. And there is absolutely no way that you’ll be here when that time comes. You have to get out of here. This didn’t really go as planned, you apparently don’t have enough courage to own up to your mistake. But you’ve returned the tape nonetheless, so your mission is complete. 

You give Jungkook an almost believable smile, and prepare to walk off. Your feet are about to send you off, and you turn away from Jungkook, setting out on your journey to the door — when you feel a tug on your coat. 

Jungkook has wrapped his fingers in the soft fabric, tugging on your back, keeping you from leaving. Reaching for you over the counter.

Neither of you speak for a moment, you just still the moment you feel resistance. Your chest heaves, you have no idea what’s going on, why he’s holding you back. It’s almost like all the air in your lungs in ripped from you, and when you hear his voice, your knees almost buckle. 

“Are you sure there’s nothing you want me to do?”

You can’t see his face, but his voice is enough to send you over the edge. It’s a low purr, but you also detect some worry. He can’t possibly be that sorry for lending you the wrong tape. It would at least make him great with costumers, but it can’t just be that. Oh god. He can’t possibly know… can he?

“W-what?” you ask, still not turning to face him. You just stare straight ahead at the snow that falls outside the window, the glass door. And Jungkook’s hand stays knotted in your coat, making it impossible for you to move. 

“Come on…” he rasps, tugging you closer. Your feet stumble backwards, but you still don’t turn, honestly just because you don’t dare to. Looking him in his beautiful eyes right now might make you jump over that counter and fling your arms over his shoulders. So you stand still, your lower back meeting the edge of the counter. And after a while, after you’ve gotten used to the way Jungkook’s breath keeps brushing against the back of your head, he speaks again. “I know you like me.”

Mary mother of christ. There it is. He knows. Of course he knows — how could you be so stupid? You’ve been pining after him for almost a decade. How could he not know? 

Goosebumps bloom on the back of your neck and your breathing turns shallow. This can really only mean one thing. 

He didn’t give you the wrong tape. 

You slip from his hand, turning abruptly, looking at him with wide and frightened eyes. For some reason, you can’t control your breathing. Your chest moves in heaves, and every sentence you try forming in your head dies on its way out. His nostrils flare before you, and as if you’re not having a hard enough time breathing, Jungkook’s eyes roam over your body, taking in your state of shock. 

“Wha—what?” you repeat, still not sure any of this is real. Because how can it be. It’s straight out of a very weird and long porno. Fitting, given the tape he’s gifted you. 

“Look—I’m sorry about the video,” he starts, running stressed fingers through his hair. You’ve never seen him like this, it’s out of character for him to not be teasing or mocking you. But he’s allowed to be nervous, as he has just confirmed to renting you a porno of himself. That has to be some sort of felony. When he’s done messing up his hair, he places his hands flat on the counter, chuckling at his own words. “I just—I don’t know. Thought you needed a push.” 

“Needed a push?” You stick your neck out, baffled and not really sure if you just heard right. Was this an attempt to seduce you? In what messed up world would that work? “I’m sure you could’ve thought of some other way to wring the truth out of me.”

Jungkook shrugs, keeping his eyed glued to yours. “Sure. But I wanted you to see what I could do to you.” 

Your pulse drops, and it almost feels as if someone has spilled a bucket of ice water down your neck. Oh my god, this has to be some kind of joke. Maybe he’s recording this too, and that he might just be a very messed up guy. Because never in your twenty years of living would you have thought that Jeon Jungkook could ever come onto you. Especially not like this. 

For some reason, you can’t speak. But your face gets embarrassingly warm, your cheeks heating up and doing absolutely nothing to hide just how flustered you are. You try cooling it off, letting your knuckles meet the warm skin, not even caring how stupid it looks. 

“Also,” Jungkook tilts his head, smiling at you. You immediately avoid his eyes, looking down at his hands instead, the thick, silver ring that’s wrapped around his left thumb. He notices, bending a bit down trying to search for your eyes. “It’s fun making you blush like this.” 

“You’re—” you start, blushing even more when he points it out. Trying to recover some kind of bravery, you jerk your neck, flaring your nostrils. “This is insane behavior.”

“Romeo killed himself for Juliet—I would argue I’m not insane enough.”

You instantly frown, very taken aback by this absurd analogy. “Are you seriously comparing you giving me porn—your own porn—to Romeo and Juliet?”

“Yeah,” he says dead serious while straightening his posture. His eyes sparkle in your direction, and you gulp as you keep getting lost in them. He has apparently lost his damn mind… but it seems it might be because of you. That can’t be right. 

“I'm sorry—but are we just brushing over the fact that you make your own porn?” Your eyebrows crease so bad it's actually hurting, but you can't for the life of you understand what on earth is going on.

Jungkook scratches the back of his head. “It was—it's something I do for fun—sometimes!” he tries explaining, tumbling over his own words. “I'd never do that to you—I just thought giving you the tape might open your eyes. Show you what I bring to the table.”

What a crazy mindset. Also, you already know what he brings to the table — every girl in town knows. He could’ve just told you ‘hey, I like you’ and it probably wouldn’t have been as strange.

As you part your lips, preparing to speak, your words are ripped from you. Because the moment your words are about to leave you, Jungkook decides to move. He takes a step back from the counter, eyes never leaving you, and starts making his way around, fingertips tracing the flat surface. The veins on his forearm strain against his skin as he moves, as his arm stretches, follows where he goes. And in a matter of no time, he manages to snake around the counter and take his first steps towards you. 

There’s nothing else for you to do but tumble backwards, not knowing if its all because you’re trying to keep your distance from him or if it’s your brain subconsciously keeping you from making a stupid decision — keeping you from flinging yourself over Jungkook’s neck. 

“I swear I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable,” he stresses, slowly walking towards you. “And I know it was a crazy gesture—but the thing is… I kinda am crazy about you.”

You stop in your tracks, letting him close up on you. Your throat clogs as you hear his confession, a row of words you’ve only encountered in your dreams. Maybe you’re dumb and naive, but you’ve been so insatiably in love with him for these past years that the thought of him maybe feeling the same way has your vision blurring. 

What snaps you back to reality is the tape, the way he spoke. How he carries himself, the fact that every girl in town has gotten a taste of him. He must be calculated. This isn’t a love confession — this is a damn ploy. 

“That’s not funny,” you say, nostrils flaring. 

He’s close enough to touch you now, but he doesn’t. Instead, he stops before you, eyes skimming over your flushed face, moving from one eye to the other before settling on your lips for way too long. He takes a deep breath, one that has his shoulders lifting with the large intake. “I’m not trying to be funny, peach.” 

That fucking nickname. Just this once, you wish he might’ve been able to drop it… just this once. 

His fingers twitch with restraint at his sides, and his tongue brushes past his lips as his eyes are still fixed on your mouth. “If you think I’m just saying all this to win you over—do you really think I’d wait this long?” 

“Uh, n-no,” you stutter, and your voice comes out more strained than you hoped, almost like every word you’re trying to say hurts in your throat. 

One second passes, and without noticing at first, you see Jungkook’s hand lift. His palm comes to cup your cheek, his ring-covered thumb brushing against your warm skin. Your breathing comes out ragged, and your eyes flick over his face like a deer-caught-in-headlights. Trying to ease you, Jungkook brushes a loose strand of hair behind your ear, caressing your skin along the way. 

“That tape was just a snivel of what I’d do to you if you let me.” 

Oh god, maybe you’re in over your head here. You know you want this, that you want nothing less, but as you’ve established — Jungkook is crazy. And this might just be Jungkook’s brilliant way with words, but every single nerve in your body is tuned to him, and you find yourself glued to the floor, unable and not wanting to move. 

Just dive in without thinking. Allow yourself this indulgence. You never do anything fun, you never take any fucking risks. So just take the leap. 

You tip your chin up, better meeting his eyes, taking in a deep breath. “Then what’s stopping you?” 

A small, devilish smile tugs on Jungkook’s lips, before they surge forward, colliding with yours without giving you a second to breathe. The metal in his mouth brushes against your bottom lip, the strength of his kiss urging for you to open your mouth for him, bare him your tongue. 

You do so without thinking, inviting him in, letting the wet muscle of his tongue roll against yours in an addictive dance, while his hand shoves your face harder against his. You’re on your tippy-toes now, stretching as far as possible to reach his mouth. He chuckles against your kiss, but not for long, not when he hears how your breathing has slowed and a small moan escapes you. Because it unfurls something in him, and soon enough his free hand moves to your waist, pulling you closer to him. 

He groans at the feel of your thick coat against his chest, probably eager to rip it the fuck off, but trying to keep his cool nonetheless. It doesn’t work all that well. “Is it that cold out?”

His words aren’t teasing this time, he actually seems more furious. So you immediately find it funny, smiling still when he keeps kissing your stretched lips. “What, you don’t like my coat?” 

“Hate it, actually,” he purrs, nudging your face away with his forehead just so he can latch onto your neck. You shiver the moment his lips meet your jugular, the wetness of them sending sparks all the way to your fingertips. He licks and sucks as if to mark you, while the hand on your waist takes on a new road, coming to fiddle with the top button of your coat. 

You giggle as the button resists, catching in the soft fabric, refusing to give in. As Jungkook hears this, he retracts from your neck, straightening his posture to look at you with narrow eyes. 

“Oh, we’re laughing, are we?” He tilts his head, giving you just a teeny tiny smile that’s almost unnoticeable. His lips have gone slightly red, a bit swollen, giving him a disheveled look that’s enough for you to lose your damn mind. You pout, looking up at him with wide and unknowing eyes, trying to lure his lips back to yours, but instead you feel his hand move from your button. “Laugh, again—I dare you.”

In one easy motion both his hands grab ahold of the back of your thighs underneath the long coat, and without struggle he manages to lift you, wrapping you around his waist. Your breath hitches, the fabric of your coat rides up, and you instinctively fold your knees around his torso, steading yourself. And as the small breath of air leaves you, Jungkook swallows it with another kiss.

It's like you’re nothing in his arms with the way he so easily handles you. He manages to turn, walk further into the store, still lavishing you in openmouthed and wet kisses. Your arms have wrapped around his neck, and soon enough your fingers are tangled in his silky hair, brushing through the strands that form the rough mullet. Until you remember something crucial. 

“W-waitwaitwait—” you hiss against his lips, retracting to look him in the eyes. They haven’t gone heavy lidded like you’re used to when lathering boys in kisses, Jungkook’s eyes have actually doubled in size, it seems. He stares back at you with two black, glistening voids, wondering why you’re cutting his pleasure short. You raise your eyebrows, because the door remains unlocked. And you’re not so sure if you’re all that keen on going at it with Jungkook while someone could just simply walk in without restraint. “The door?”

Jungkook chuckles as he keeps moving both your bodies across the room, walking past shelves, different sections, until he stops for a second. “There’s another door here, peach.” 

And just like that, almost like it magically appeared with his words, he pushes open a door — already slightly ajar — with the tip of his boot, a door which seems to lead to the backroom. It’s filled with boxes, shelves. It’s just a mess, honestly. And without any further words, Jungkook turns the lock and walks to one of the shorter CD-shelves, propping you up on it. 

Your feet barely dangle above the floor, and you immediately miss the feel of his lips once he leaves you. Needy as you are, you reach for his shirt, trying to pull him back, but he stops you right away. 

“I’m gonna need that coat on the floor before anything else.” 

Fuck.

You were honestly hoping it wouldn’t come to this. Maybe that he would let you sleep with him fully dressed. 

It’s not because you’re self-conscious in any way, you’re actually quite proud of your figure. No, this is way worse. Because underneath your coat lies a dark secret: Your horrible sense of style when it comes to lounging around at home. 

To be honest, you thought you’d spend the night all alone. Well, it’s movie night, so you usually do spend it alone, on your couch, with soda stains on your chest. But you set out on a quest tonight — honestly just to return the tape and never see Jungkook again. You didn’t think he’d be undressing you by the end of the meet, so you didn’t bother to change your clothes… which now you realize was a grand mistake. 

You look up at Jungkook with wide and pleading eyes, “May the coat stay on?”

He just frowns in response before taking matters into own hands, lunging forward and shutting you up with a kiss so harsh your lips might bruise. Jungkook sucks down on your bottom lip, causing you to let out a soft moan in his mouth as he distracts you from the way he’s roughly tearing open your coat, not caring if the buttons rip at the seams. Suddenly, the coat hangs open, and with a begrudging lift of your hips, you let him slip it off your frame. 

Your hands come up to cup his neck, the hair that grows long there, forcing him to not look down. But he does anyways… and stops completely. 

His hands rest by your waist, and his eyes roam over your body, eyebrows creasing with something that might read as disgust, or maybe just utter confusion. 

“What the hell are you wearing?” he scoffs, skimming over your outfit. Rightfully so, because what the hell are you wearing? 

It’s embarrassing, but it’s comfortable. And you don’t care if you stain it. You tread it over your body the minute you get home, you always make sure to wash it before going to bed just so you’ll be able to wear it again the day after. We are of course speaking of your Snoopy-suit. 

Weird name, yes, but there’s no other way to describe it. Because it is a Snoopy-suit. A white sweater with tiny nightgown-Snoopy-figurines all over, everywhere, no inch left uncovered — with a pair of matching sweatpants. The text on your chest reads ‘Sleepy Snoops’. We won’t even get into what’s written on your ass.

You part your lips, but no sound comes out, which has Jungkook frowning ugly in front of you. With minimal strength, you shove at his chest. It does little, as he comes right back again, leaning forward while his palms rest on either side of you down on the shelf’s surface. The veins in his forearms pop as he rests his weight on them. 

“Wha—well I didn’t think I’d be stripping when I got here!” You try defending yourself, but realize it still doesn’t answer Jungkook’s question. Because you quite frankly have no idea what it is that you’re wearing. Thankfully, Jungkook latches onto your words instead of keeping his attention glued to your outfit. 

“You so did,” he chuckles, planting a soft kiss on your temple. 

You keep trying to defend yourself while his kisses continue. “I didn’t!”

“Yeah-yeah, okay—I can’t have you wearing that, though.” He starts by letting one hand brush over your thighs, a move that immediately sends shivers down your spine and all the way to your cervix. Jesus, he must be a sorcerer. The hand keeps moving, fingers brushing underneath the hem of your sweater, lifting it slowly while still kissing you, lips moving down your neck, biting down on your skin as his fingers meets your stomach. 

Eager to strip out of this god-awful outfit, you help him, reaching for the hem of your sweatshirt and giving it a quick tug. Jungkook’s hand replaces yours, and he lifts the fabric off your body, over your head, over your lifted arms, until it falls completely off and is thrown forgotten to the floor alongside your coat. 

The moment you’re bared to him, he chuckles against your skin, pleased to know you’re not wearing a bra. His hand which is not holding onto your waist comes to cup one of your soft breasts, rolling it in his palm where it fits so perfectly. 

You mewl underneath his touch, back arching instinctively as he keeps kneading your breast with his warm palm. He steps in between your parted knees, the hand on your waist pulling you further into him, and the moment you meet his hips, you let out a breathy moan. 

He’s straining against his jeans, a bulge so big it still surprises you, even though you’ve already seen all of him. You’ve seen every vein, every inch — just not up close. And the anticipation is killing you. 

“Take the sweatpants off,” he breathes against your neck, now starting to move lower, kissing your collarbone, your chest, before his lips meet the gentle curve of your breast — the one not trapped in his palm. 

In a hurried motion, your fingers find your waistband, and you rip the soft fabric off, lifting your hips and wiggling out of the pants, kicking off your boots along with the legs of your sweats. Thankfully, your panties aren’t atrocious as well, just a simple, white lace that you’re hoping to be rid of soon enough.

Jungkook grinds into you the second you lose the pants, breathing roughly against your skin when he feels your bare figure hug his frame the moment his hips roll forwards. His mouth moves lower, and after giving your already hard nipple a soft lick, he closes his mouth around it to suck down on it. The hand on your breast gives your skin a deep knead before brushing lower, letting his fingers play with the waistband of your panties, snapping the band against your hip. 

“Kook—please,” you moan, eyes rolling to the back of your head when Jungkook’s tongue starts circling your nipple, flicking over the nub, coating it in his spit. “Don’t hold back with me.” 

He groans against you, running the tip of his tongue back and forth over your hard nipple, “Couldn’t even if I wanted to.” 

His fingers move from the waistband, and in a motion so sudden his palm cups your wetness, squeezing tight, feeling how you’re dripping through the lace fabric. Your breath hitches, and your head lolls back as the friction of his hand cupped so tightly against your clothed cunt. Chasing his touch, your hips buck forward, a move which steals a hummed laughter from him. 

Your completely soaked through. There’s no inch of lace left untouched by your wetness, and the fabric clings to you like a second skin. You’re so wet it almost embarrassing, and every squeeze Jungkook’s large palm bestows upon you has you gasping for air. 

He sucks down on your nipple, releasing it with a slick pop. “Fuck, you’re soaked through,” he almost whispers, his breath against your breast sending sparks through your body. 

“Mm-hm,” you hum in agreement, a needy sound you try repressing as you bite down on your bottom lip. But it doesn’t work that well, especially not when Jungkook runs a single finger all the way from your core to your clit, which both are spasming underneath the drenched lace. Your forehead drops to Jungkook’s shoulder for some kind of support, but suddenly the surface is removed. Because Jungkook has taken on a new path. 

Tracing your bare torso in wet kisses, he makes his way down, both hands now coming to tug on the waistband of your panties, ripping it of in one go with the help of a compliant lift of your hips. 

“Have been dreaming of this,” he purrs, “… for so fucking long.”

His palms slowly spread your knees apart, thumbs pressing into the supple skin of your inner thigs, and you feel it like a pulse in your core. You almost can’t think straight, seeing him on his knees between your legs. Although he might be teasing — you actually have been dreaming of this. And now that it’s finally happening, every nerve in your body feels ignited. 

As you let out a small whimper, Jungkook’s eyes flick up, catching yours from between your legs, and you swear your lungs collapse when he smirks, so slight it’s nearly imperceptible. 

Still keeping eye contact, his knuckles brush the slick that’s already coating your folds. Your eyebrows crease at the touch, and your mouth falls open without letting any sound release, just a row of desperate breaths. He lets his fingers stretch, the pads of them trailing down your slit, feeling the way your juices cling to him. It’s a sight he can’t keep away from. 

His eyes dart down, now fixed on the sight of you bare and dripping. The way your clit pulsates, begging and needing to be touched. “Fuck,” he breathes. “Look at you.” 

You’re too wet to be embarrassed, to fucking wrecked from the anticipation to be coy or smart. All you want is to audibly beg for him, but you still have some pride you’re hoping to keep intact. You’ll fuck him in the backroom of his shop, alright — but you’re not begging. Well, not yet, at least. 

There’s apparently no need for you to beg this time, as the next thing you feel is Jungkook’s mouth pressing a kiss on your parted lips, right to your clit. 

You immediately jolt forwards, the feel of his lips so unreal that stars start dancing in your vision. But he holds you back with his palms, and with a low rumble, he darts his tongue out, dragging an experimental lick through your folds. He parts them with ease, his tongue flat and broad, starting from the bottom and gliding all the way up to your clit. Your thighs shudder, but he still doesn’t let you move. His arms snake around your legs, pinning you down and locking you open for him. 

“You taste so fucking good,” he purrs in between licks, the tip of his tongue circling your clit, flicking over it once or twice to feel the way your twitch in his grip. You throw your head back, a moan ripping from your throat as his sucks your clit into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it with obscene precision. The suction is gentle, at first, just enough to have your back arching and your fingers flying into his soft hair. 

You feel the piercing in his lip move as he shifts, the cool of it slipping through your folds when he sucks down harder, tearing uncontrollable whines from you. Easing you after the harsh suction, he presses his tongue flat against your clit and rolls it, slow and so incredibly fucking skilled. 

“Oh fuck—fuck, Jungkook—”

He only groans in response, the vibration of it traveling through your entire body. When he shifts his mouth again, you think you might black out. He locks eyes with you, his black marbles staring back up at you as a sly smile appears on his face. His tongue rapidly flicks up and down your clit, and just when he sees your eyes roll to the back of your head, he delves down wrap his lips around the nub, sucking tightly at it. 

You can’t see shit. You don’t know if it’s your eyes who have retreated to your skull, or if it’s your vision blurring due to the intense pleasure — whatever it is, it’s too damn good to care about right now. And with the way he chuckles against your cunt, you bet your ass he’s watching your every reaction. 

Because he loves it, he drinks it in. Every moan, every twitch of your hips, every grip of your fingers in his hair — he can’t get enough of it. Especially when he retracts, licking a fat stripe over your pulsating clit, and you let out a breathy whine, desperate for the orgasm he just teased you with.

Unapologetic and lost in deep pleasure, you look back down at him, eyebrows lifting and eyes widening. “I loved the tape you gave me,” you breathe, tugging gently on his hair. 

“Yeah?” He smiles against your wetness, locking eyes with you as his licks turn slow and torturous. His lips have gone all shiny, his chin too, probably, although you can’t see it. 

A smile tugs on your lips, and you nod, slowly starting to roll your hips against him, following the movement of his tongue. “Yeah,” you purr, your eyes fluttering shut every time Jungkook’s flat tongue moves over the most sensitive spot of your clit. “Loved seeing you. Your arms, your thighs, your dick.” 

Your words come out breathy and seductive, egging him on. It works immediately, as he seals his lips around your clit, sucking down while his tongue messily laps over the nub. His spit and your slick mix together in a thick liquid that coats both him and your thighs, running down to the slit that parts your cheeks.

“Anything else?” He lets up from his sucking as his tongue explores you more deeply, slipping down to your entrance, circling it before slowly pushing inside. 

Your entire body jerks. “Ah—yes!”

He starts shamelessly fucking you with his tongue in low, deep strokes, his nose pressed against your clit, his grip on your thighs tightening as you writhe against his face. 

“I wished it was me—so bad Kook.” The words roll of your tongue, and you ramble mindlessly as his tongue curls inside you, his nose rubbing tightly over your clit. “Wished you’d fuck me just like that—fuck me until I can’t walk.”

He loves the sound of your breathy praise, loves the way you keep spasming whenever he hits the sweet-spot buried deep inside you. He knows exactly what it is you need. So he pulls his tongue out, licks his way back up and circles your clit again — but this time, his fingers join in. 

You’re so wet and pliant you almost don’t notice them at first, but when he goes deeper, your eyes widen. There’s two of them, thick and lock, who push inside you so smoothly that your mouth drops open, a broken sound escaping you before you can stop it. His mouth doesn’t let up during the intrusion, his tongue flicks fast over your clit as his fingers curl inside you, exactly where you crave pleasure the most. Your walls pulsate around his digits the moment he teases the spot.

“Ah—fuck, right there—oh my god—” you pant, eyelids fluttering shut as he keeps stroking in rhythmic pulses, his mouth never leaving your clit. The combination is unbearable, and your hips involuntarily rock into his touch. You tug on his hair, pull him closer, and you feel the pleasure in your stomach starting to knot together. “Oh my god, Kook—I’m so close—”

Jungkook flicks his tongue faster, circles your clit tighter, until your vision wipes out, until your legs are shaking around his shoulders, your orgasm building so fiercely you can almost taste blood. 

No one has ever known their way around your body this way, and you thank god for his previous experience, because with the way he’s working you over right now — there’s nothing else for you to do. His long fingers keep curling inside you, not even caring about the fact that your juices run down his palm, his wrist, coating his forearm. He instead hums in appreciation against your clit, wrapping his lips around it, his lip ring slipping inside your glistening folds, and he sucks down viscously on your clit like a starved animal. 

“Fuck—Kook, I’m cu—” is all you’re able to get out before your orgasm hits you. Your legs quiver, your whole body breaks open against his mouth, your head lolls back and you cry out. You grind against his face because you simply can’t not, because you need him deeper, everywhere, you’re actually losing your mind in this orgasm. And Jungkook eats it up, literally. He moans into your climax, tongue lapping ever drop of arousal, fingers starting to pump in and out of you, meeting every grind of your hip. 

Even when your thighs begin to twitch in overstimulation, he doesn’t stop. He slows, of course, but he stays, licking lazy strokes over your cunt as if he’s cleaning up his mess. And under his touch, your body is melting. You actually feel boneless, a trembling mess — who has also seemingly made a mess out of the boy between your legs. 

His hair is a mess from your hands, his lips have gone red, swollen and shiny, and his chest heaves like he’s the one who just came. And when he feels you starting to tug harder on his hair, trying to pry him off your body, he lets up, giving a final peck to your clit. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hands, eyes never leaving yours. It doesn’t really help, his lips are still a wet mess, a mess he doesn’t seem to bother. His tongue darts out again, brushing over his lower lip, savoring the taste of you. 

“Voila,” he jokes, bracing his hands on his thighs as his posture straightens. 

You don’t even care that he’s being a cocky asshole now, all you want is for him to rid himself of those god damn clothes. It’s all you can think of when your vision comes back — how he’s still covered. How the tight tee he’s wearing hides his glorious figure from you, how his pants cage in the length and width of his. A cock so big your mouth is already watering. 

Your voice comes out softer and a bit more embarrassing than you expect, “C-can you… take it off?”

Jungkook tilts his head, eyebrows lifting, being a little shit. “Take what off?”

You bite down on your bottom lip, eyes darting toward his still clothed body, toward the heavy bulge that’s straining visibly through the dark denim. Jungkook grins viciously when he notices your lingering and hopeful grin.

“Everything?” he asks, still in that oblivious and teasing tone that weirdly enough turns you on so much that a new wave of arousal seeps from you. You instinctively press your knees together, suddenly a bit self-conscious about being the only one butt-naked here. So you nod, shyly, letting him know you do want him to take everything off. 

His hands move immediately, but his breath hitches and his mouth opens in a wide gape. Of course, teasing you. “Such a forward young girl,” he says as if he’s affronted by your demand. You just roll your eyes at him, even though you’re screaming internally.

He rises to his feet, towering over you with a frame so broad you gulp, his shoulders squared, hair falling into his eyes as he glances down at you with hunger. Eyes never leaving you, his fingers start moving to the hem of his tee. And it’s torture, the way he peels it off, revealing himself inch by inch. The fabric clings to his back as he pulls it over his head and tosses it aside. 

Jesus fucking christ, it’s even better up close. A camera can’t possibly do such a man justice, the way he looks as if he’s sculpted by the gods. Sharp collarbones, thick chest, deep dips between every line of muscle, and somehow a lean waist. Unfair is what it is. And his inked up left arm is just too stunning, the way the tattoos curl around his biceps, his veins. Unfair.

Your gaze traces his torso, licking your lips subconsciously. 

“Like what you see?” he asks, extremely cocky. 

“Shush,” you say as you shake your head, hoping to might snap out of the weird horned up trance he has you in by just removing his tee. 

He chuckles, dragging one hand down over his own stomach, flexing his abs. “Not something I usually show the customers. You’re getting some real special treatment here, peach.”

“I somehow don’t believe that,” you frown, trying your hardest not to laugh when he grunts, flexing even harder. He might be ridiculously hot, but he still can’t escape the idiocy that comes with being a boy. 

His mouth opens, gape widens, and his eyebrows crease. “Are you slut-shaming me?”

“I so am.” You brace your hands on either side of your body, leaning backwards, stretching subtly before him. Gloating in the way he’s undressing before you. Because next go his boots. He tows them off one at a time and they land somewhere far off in the small room. Then go the jeans. 

The second the belt is out from its loops, your stomach flips. He pops the button, drags the zipper down, and your mouth dries when he peels them off. The denim clings to his thighs, and you see now just how thick they are. His legs are strong, dense with muscle, strength that only comes from real, physical work — carrying boxes, lifting crates, whatnot. He can maybe add ‘carrying you around’ to that list, if he wants, of course. 

Now, there’s only one barrier left between you and every inch of him. His black boxer-briefs. And what’s underneath them is already impossible to ignore. 

He’s hard, so hard, straining against the fabric, the outline of his cock bulging beneath the waistband. Long and thick, his girth alone has your core clenching in anticipation. You saw him in the self-tape, of course, you know he’s big already. But knowing he’ll bestow the length upon you feels like you’re maybe in way over your head. The tip of him presses against the cotton, and there’s a darkened spot where he’s already leaking. 

Jungkook giggles (weirdly enough) at the way you swallow hard before him, and jerks his head to the side. “Three—two—one.”

He actually counts down the big reveal, hooking his thumbs under the waistband and dragging the fabric down. 

Your jaw almost reaches the floor. 

Jungkook springs free flushed, veiny and think in a way that’s almost greedy. The head of him is swollen and red, glistening and leaking at the tip, and you feel drool trying to make its way down your chin. You shut your mouth immediately, but you take a big breath in through your nose. He’s absolutely, obesely big. This can’t be good for neither you or him. 

Upon seeing you so baffled, he chuckles low in his chest, stroking himself once from base to tip — just for you to watch, and for him to see your reaction. “You said you didn’t want me to hold back, right?” 

Your thighs squeeze together and part your lips, “Uhm.” God you’re an idiot. Uhm? Well, your reaction is kind of fair, you didn’t expect him to be this absurdly big. But maybe you’ll grow accustomed to him, to his size. You pray to god that you will, because you’re not backing out now. “Right—right. I’m ready.” 

He lets out a chuckle and steps in close, close enough that your knees part for him again, close enough that his cologne and body scent wraps around you like a second skin. He leans forward until his hands land on either side of you, palms flat against the shelf. 

You’re caged in. His arms bracket you completely, veins standing out along his forearms, sleeve tattoo stretching and flexing as his weight settles in. There’s nowhere for you to go — not that there’s anywhere else in the world you’d like to be right now. You could absurdly enough die happily in this position, naked underneath the eyes of equally naked Jungkook. His face is inches away from yours, breath warm, eyes glistening as they flick between your eyes, mouth, chest. 

“Need another countdown?” he asks as he leans in, softly kissing the sensitive spot behind your ear. 

You shudder, eyes fluttering shut. But still — please don’t count down. It was weird enough the first time. “Rather not,” you giggle, wiggling away from his kisses as they start to tingle. This only eggs Jungkook on more, resulting in him blowing air behind your ear, biting down on your skin, humming in appreciation as you try shoving him away. “Stop Kook, it tickles—oh—”

Oh. It was a distraction. 

Because suddenly you feel him… all of him, pressing heavy against you. He shifts his hip as he feels you still completely, and drags the length of him upwards, through your folds, coating himself in your slick. 

“Shiit, you’re so soft.” Jungkook’s voice is no more than a whisper, speaking directly into your ear before biting down on your earlobe. One of his hands come to rest on your thigh, squeezing the supple flesh there, as his other hand moves between you to grab himself — guiding himself as he drag his cock upwards to circle your clit with his heavy tip. 

You gasp, and your head falls to Jungkook’s shoulder. It’s obscene how sensitive you are, how easily your body reacts to him. You’re still slick from his mouth, and the slide of him against your soaked cunt has you toes curling instantly. 

Jungkook groans under his breath, retracting from your neck to watch how you drip all over him, how his cock slips so easily through you, how the head of him catches at your clit and makes you tremble. “Fuck—looks so pretty.” The thick length of him glides through you from bottom to top, the head pressing against your clit, guiding his leaking tip just right, flicking it up and down your spasming nub that crowns your mound in torturous drags. 

“Oh—” your breath stutters and your hips jolt forward, hands snaking around his frame to drag your long fingernails down his back, hard enough to make him hiss. As your head falls back, Jungkook lets the hand on your thigh move to your neck, and he presses your mouth against his. His tongue slides into your mouth, and you melt into it immediately, lips parting, moaning softly when you feel his cock glide through you yet again. 

He doesn’t push inside you, he just drags himself through your slick over and over again. Each pass is wonderful, the head of his cock nudges your clit, circles it, presses into it to hear how you whine into his mouth. The size of him is impossible to ignore. He’s so heavy, so thick, that you’re starting to worry about how on earth he’s going to fit inside you.

You lift your arms and tug at his hair, fingers curling into his soft strands. “You f-feel—ah—so good.”

Upon hearing your praise, he chuckles softly and kisses you harder, pushing to tighter against his lips. His tongue strokes slow, his open mouth steals every sound you make, swallowing your moans while his cock continues its relentless pass through your folds. 

You’re soaking him, his cock slipping as it reaches your clit again, involuntarily flicking over your clit as you're so wet his cock can't even keep a straight path. You feel yourself pulsing around nothing, clenching with the hope that he’ll soon fill you, that he’ll soon give you exactly what you want. And as you start growing impatient, tugging harder on his hair — Jungkook starts to play with you. 

He nudges your clit side to side, the hand wrapped around his own length guiding his cock precisely where you’re spasming. New waves of arousal leak from you, mixing with the pearls of precum that continues to run down Jungkook’s shaft. With a gasp, you break from the kiss, feeling your legs starting to shake and the coiling pleasure low in your belly building by the second. “N-no more—”

“Fuuck, but—” he breathes out a low growl, his forehead dropping to your shoulder. “Feel how hard I am for you, peach.”

His hips roll forward, his own hand making sure he slips perfectly though your folds. He flattens the length of him against your slick heat, and when you feel him twitch, when you feel just how close he is himself, a sharp pulse travels straight through your core. Your hands slide down his back, nails digging into his skin, your whole body arching up into him. You can’t take it anymore — he has teased you for long enough. All you want is for him to fill you so good, to actually split you in half, all you want is for him to make you cry in overwhelming pleasure. 

“I could probably cum like this,” Jungkook rasps, still resting against your shoulder. You feel his eyes flutter shut, his eyelashes tingling against your skin. He lets out a deep breath, and actually whines when he presses one last, heavy glide through your folds. As he reaches your clit again, he lingers there, circling thrice until your nails scrape harshly along his back, until your back arches and all you’re able to do is moan his name. He chuckles, although there’s absolutely nothing funny right now, “I bet you could too.”

Well, apparently you’re not allowed to, as his hands find your hips in a sudden motion. Before you can fully catch your breath, let out one last moan, he’s lifting you off the bench, pressing your body flush to him. All the while his cock is still nuzzled between your folds. 

The change of scenery has you gasping for air, arms flinging over his shoulders and legs wrapping tightly around his slender waist. You try balancing yourself, although there seems to be no need as Jungkook doesn’t falter. It doesn’t look like the lift strains him, he doesn’t even blink. He just holds you like you weigh nothing, easily hopping with you in his arms, making you whimper as his cock once again presses against your clit. 

“I don’t know if it’s you that’s light as fuck—or if I’m just stupidly strong,” Jungkook laughs, and there’s a grin tucked into the corner of his mouth, a grin you kind of want to wipe right off his face, no matter how much you want him right now.

He turns with you cradled against him, your bare chest pressed to his, and he walks the two of you a few feet across the backroom, his bare feet making duck-like waddling sounds against the concrete floor. As sensual as this is supposed to be, you giggle, kissing his cheek for the first time. And oh my god. They’re so incredibly soft. They swell up when he smiles, grinning as you continue pressing tiny pecks all over both his cheeks. 

“I’m about to fuck you dense and you’re babying me?” 

You continue smothering him in kisses, not caring if his words actually kind of frighten you… because how much denser could you possibly become after this? The thought doesn’t stick for long, as you’re suddenly being pinned back against one of the tall VHS-shelves. It’s cold against your spine, and you gasp as the wood presses harshly against your skin.

And yet again — you’re caged in. Oh no… you’re trapped beneath Jeon Jungkook, his body flush against you, the hard line of his cock now pressed hot between your legs… oh no, how awful.

You’re still dripping for him, and you swear you can feel your slick smear across his skin as he shifts. Because he leans in, his mouth immediately latching onto your neck again. And as his mouth works you over, he slowly puts you down, without any tremble in his arms, without any struggle whatsoever, until your bare feet meet the floor. 

At this height, you have to get on your tip-toes if you want Jungkook to continue his kisses down your neck — so you do. You lift your heels off the floor and invite his mouth, his mouth which softly presses just beneath your ear. He drags his lips down the line of your throat until you’re tilting your head back to give him more. But then his mouth opens, and he starts sucking, tongue and teeth coming into play as he bruises the skin above your collarbone.

You inhale a soft gasp or moan, you have no idea, and you subconsciously arch your back off the shelf, your hips nudging against his abdomen.

He groans against your skin, and shifts his grip, suddenly losing all the strength he has used to hold himself back. His tattooed arm slides under your thigh, lifting one leg up and hooking it over his forearm. The stretch of it opens you up for him completely, your core exposed, flushed and needy. He reaches between your bodies with his other hand, wraps his fingers around the base of his cock, and lines himself up.

“Ah—Kook.” Your stomach flips, and your nails drag against his shoulders. 

The head of him is nestled right at your entrance, obscenely thick, already slick from both the teasing from earlier and the precum that leaks from him. Just the feel of him has your walls fluttering for him, begging shamelessly. “Split me open.”

He groans against your neck, a guttural sound that comes from hearing you plead so submissively, wanting him to tear you apart with the width and length of his cock. Lifting his mouth from you skin, he looks down at where his cock presses into you, circling your swollen entrance with a sick grin on his face. The deep red of him disappears so beautifully inside you, causing your head to loll back in pleasure-pain. As his tip retracts from you again, your walls clench around nothing, and you breathe out his name, making Jungkook look up at you, lock his eyes with yours.

“Hold onto me,” is all he says, before slowly pushing into you — agonizingly slow.

Your breath stills in your lungs the moment the thick crown of his cock starts to breach you, stretching your entrance around him. The pressure is immediate, he’s so big that your muscles clench without permission, trying to accommodate him. But you arch your back further off the shelf, shoving yourself further onto his cock as he’s still not even halfway through yet. 

“Fuuck,” he grits with his jaw clenched, eyebrows knotted, eyes locked on where your bodies melt togheter. “You’re so tight—jesus.” He only sinks in an inch more, and still, your breath hitches like it’s being pulled from the base of your spine. You might’ve asked for him to split you open, but now that he actually might, your vision blurs and your mouth falls open.

His hand slips from your thigh to your hip, and he uses the hold to pull you down, just a little, just enough to sink another inch into you — then he holds you there. He pants like a madman, almost going cross-eyed from the unbelievable tightness of your heat, the way you already clench and pulsate around his cock, so un-accustomed to the width of him. 

“Shit—okay, ready?” he asks, eyes flicking up to meet yours. They’ve gone completely dark now, swallowed by his black pupils, and there’s a strange, pleading look to him. You’ve never seen this in him, the way his eyebrows crease high on his forehead, the way he nods at you for permission. It sends a wave of pleasure through you, and your walls start fluttering uncontrollably around him, causing his head to tip back, his lips to part as soft gasps leave him. 

You bite down on your bottom lip, nodding back at him. “R-ready when you are.”

The second your breathy confirmation slips past your lips, he exhales something between a moan and a curse and begins pushing in again, torturous inch by inch. The drag of his cock through your walls has your mouth falling open, head thumping softly against the shelf behind you. Because you finally feel every part of him, every thick ridge, every beautiful vein as he opens you in a way that’s probably going to ruin you forever. 

Your eyes squeeze shut when he sinks deeper, but Jungkook’s threaded voice pulls them open again. “Eyes on me,” he pants, cupping your jaw his hand, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone as he holds your face. “Wanna see your pretty face when I’m bottomed out.” 

Who the hell would say no to that? Probably someone who haven’t laid their eyes on Jungkook and his eyes which are so big you could easily get lost in them, even though you’ve spent years mapping them out. 

So you watch him closely, watch the strain in his expression as he slowly feeds you more of his cock, his brows tights and his lips parted. You feel the tremble in his thigh, the flex of his arm beneath your leg, how even he is fighting to stay in control. He’s all flushed muscle and restraint, every inch of his body working to not wreck you… yet. He’ll get to it, don’t you worry. 

But as of now, he keeps sinking deeper into you — and it feels fucking endless, the stretch so incredibly slow and agonizing that you might decent into madness soon. By the time he’s nearly fully inside you, your legs start shaking, your nails carving half-moons into his inked shoulder. “K-kook—” you pant, the snug fit of him starting to ache inside you. “You have to move.”

It surprises you when he moans loudly, shuddering against you while holding eye contact — something so extremely attractive that you almost come undone right then and there. He pants wildly, groaning as he tries entering you fully. “Almost there,” he whines, eyes glued to yours.

And then finally, finally, his hips press flush to yours. He bottoms completely out, something that has the two of you moaning out loudly in the small backroom. 

His head falls to your shoulder, and you feel his sweat drip down from his forehead and onto your collarbone. You moan out yet again at the fullness, the way he presses impossibly deep, stealing all the air from your lungs. He stays still, buried to the hilt, letting you adjust, letting your walls pulse and quiver around him as he breathes heavily into the crook of your neck. 

“Fucking fuck,” he mutters against your skin. His next words have him sounding like he’s in disbelief. “I’m actually gonna split you in half.”

You nod as your head lolls back, feeling stretched to the edge of your limits, but somehow you’re burning for him, needing more from him. Because he doesn’t move yet, he savors the way your body molds around him, his nose nudging your neck as his lips brushes over your skin with shaky exhales. And he prepares himself to pull out. 

When he does, it’s only an inch, but he thrusts right back in with a quiet growl, grinding his hips into yours — his abdomen rubbing beautifully against your clit. You whimper, back arching as the motion drags along your inner walls. And just like this, the head of him nudges at the sweet spot buried deep inside you, causing your moans to die in your throat and your core to clench around his cock.

“Found it on the first fucking try,” he chuckles, biting down on the soft skin of your shoulder when your spasming tries milking him for every drop he’s got. “Shit, just like that.”

You’re barely able to find your voice as he’s pressed heavily against your g-spot. “K-kook—more please—”

He needs no more encouragement, because as the words leave you, Jungkook starts setting a rhythm. It starts out slow, letting you feel all his girth with every stroke. His cock drags out of you almost completely before sliding back in, every inch punching a moan out of both your lungs. You’re equally lost in pleasure, him panting against your neck, you melting with the shelf. 

His arm trembles beneath your thigh, and as he breathes out a quick breath, he decides to pick up the pace. 

“Yes, r-right there—oh my god,” you ramble mindlessly as his thrusts grow sharper. You can hear the wet, obscene sounds of him fucking into you, your slick coating him, dripping down both your thighs. The shelf behind you shakes with every thrust, VHS tapes toppling onto the floor, forgotten as the two of you moan uncontrollably with pleasure.

You’re a fucking mess — crying out over his shoulder, your body bouncing with every stroke, and he’s right there with you, his voice raw in your ear. “It’s good we didn’t do this earlier,” he grunts, his nose scrunching with every rapid thrust. “I’d be doing this all day—and you’d be fucking limp by now.”

The hand on your hip snakes between your bodies, and somehow he finds your clit even without looking. Two of his fingers press against you, working tight circles against the swollen bundle of nerves, slick from your arousal, his mouth brushing the edge of your jaw as his cock drives rapidly inside you. It’s almost animalistic, the way he’s handling you, the sounds he produces, the sounds of his hips slamming into you and the wetness that coats his dick. You’re being taken apart in degrees.

You can fucking feel him in your ribs, if that’s even possible, the weight of him in your belly — and all of it is spiraling higher and higher with every pass of his fingers over your clit. It doesn’t help that you feel your tits pressing so tightly against his plump and delicious chest, that you feel him kissing your throat, open-mouthed and desperate, licking and sucking on your skin. You’re being stimulated at every end, and it feels like you’re about to light on fire.

“Yes—yes—yes—god yes—” The words coming out of you just fall off your tongue as your mind is clouded, thinking about nothing but the feel of his cock against your g-spot and his fingers rubbing your clit. You’ve been teased for so long that you’ve entered a strange, delirious state, not even caring about how desperate and needy you sound. “Fuck me just like that, Jungkook—ah—oh god—”

You cry out, choking on your words as his cock slams into you, the unbearable length of him punching into the spot that makes your vision go white. 

“Shit—you’re gonna cum,” Jungkook grits out against your collarbone, almost as if it’s a revelation. His hand on your clit moves in sloppy motions, because he’s simply just trying to push you over the edge, pinching the swollen bundle of nerves between two fingers, rubbing lazily over it. “Holy f-fuuck, yeah—fucking soak me.”

It’s like you’ve entered the gates of heaven, or something in the likes of it — because you never knew such pleasure could ever exist. His cock hits your sweet spot so perfectly with every erratic thrust, his fingers working you open like your release is the only thing Jungkook wants right now… which it kind of is. 

So who are you to hold back? 

The coiling pleasure in your stomach is almost overbearing now, and you can’t seem to produce any words, just sound, just breathy moans that Jungkook immediately swallow with a deep kiss. When he rolls his tongue into your mouth, you almost choke, unprepared for the sensation. You taste the sweat that’s dripping from his upper lip, and somehow it’s enough to send you over the edge.

“Oh my god—I’m cumming—oh my god, Jungkook—don’t stop—”

You clench and pulsate viciously around his cock, gasping for air as the euphoria of your orgasm takes ahold of you and causes your vision to wipe out. Your hands move to his hair, tugging on the dark and sweaty strands as he continues to fuck himself into you again and again and again. It’s absolutely unbearable, right as your orgasm hits you, you somehow lose your consciousness. Your thighs start trembling uncontrollably, the shake so extreme that the leg which is not help up in his arms actually gives out, completely overpowered by his size and speed. 

“Oh fuck—” Jungkook immediately hooks your limp leg over his arm, holding onto your ass, trying to keep you upright. He repositions, lifting you with a tiny hop, his arms wrapping around you, one right around your waist, the other in between your shoulder blades, pressing your dead body flush against him. His cock is still buried deep inside you, and his thrusts slow down, reaching deeper and deeper inside you as your body lies weightless in his arms. Your head has fallen to his shoulders, your fingers are tangled and unmoving in his hair, and all you’re able to do is breathe against him. “Are you—are you good?” Jungkook asks, pressing a reassuring kiss to your shoulder. 

“Y-yes—I just—” your voice comes out shaky, but you try clearing your head. And that is for the sole purpose of holding out, keeping him inside you with a deep need to feel him cum — to feel the thick ropes coating your walls and clinging to you, seeping out of you once he pulls out. “—I need your cum.”

Jungkook chuckles, biting down on your skin. He starts caressing the skin between your shoulder blades with the pad of his middle finger, just as lazy strokes as the ones of his cock. Although lazy, you still feel the burn of him, wincing every time he goes too deep, or even deep at all. 

“You’ll get my cum, alright,” he purrs, nudging your head to face his, stealing a kiss from your swollen lips. “Can you stand?” 

You only shake your head. 

“Alright, then—” He smiles against the next kiss, not even closing his eyes. “Get on your knees. Wanna cum in that pretty mouth.”

Oh my god — roundabout. You might be a bit sad that he won’t paint your walls with his cum, but the thought of tasting him on your tongue almost gives your body new life. It takes a second for your muscles to respond, but he’s already helping you get down, his hands guiding your legs and knees on the floor. The loss of his cock is a sharp ache, well, a deep sting actually, but it’s replaced by something else entirely when you’re all the way down on the floor, looking up at his tall, bare and sweat-covered frame. 

His cock stands proud before you, glistening with your slick, twitching in the open air. He fists himself once, twice, brushing his thumb over the tip, spreading both your and his arousal over his length. You can tell he’s close, incredibly so, as he’s swollen, leaking constantly — something that has your mouth watering. 

“Open up,” he demands with a gentle voice, moving closer to you. 

You do just as he says, mouth parting obediently, tongue falling out slightly to meet him. He brushes the tip along your tongue first, letting your taste the mix of both of you. And as you want him to break, as you’re so desperate for his cum, you stick your tongue out furthermore, circling the head of him, flicking over the slit gently, teasing before your lips wrap around him.

“Ohhfuuck, just like that,” he moans hoarsely, and his hands go to your head, cradling it while his eyebrows knot high on his forehead. He tastes of you, of himself — it’s strange and addictive. But he hasn’t exactly shrunken in the past minute, so just getting him down your throat is a task so hard tears immediately brim your eyes. A sight which apparently has Jungkook losing his mind. 

“Fuck—are you crying on my dick?” he asks in disbelief, moaning uncontrollably when you hollow your cheeks to take him in deeper. You slide your lips down his shaft, hands wrapping around what won’t fit — because he is quite frankly that big. Jungkook’s whole body shudders. “You look so fucking beautiful.”

You try hiding the fact that you flush immediately at his words, and let one of your hands tug on his balls, playing gently with them as you suck him as deep as his cock can go. It’s a straining task, and you unfortunately gag when you take him in too deep, moaning around him — the vibrations traveling straight through Jungkook’s spine. 

He looks down at you with wild eyes, sweat clinging to his temples, and as you cradle one of his balls, you feel it tense. He’s stupidly close. 

His hips jerk forward without warning, letting you know just how close to the edge he really is. The sound he makes is so beautiful, so sinful, that you kind of wish you were recording this — so you could pocket his moan, keep it with you wherever you go. His eyes never leave you, and he’s sweating and panting like what you’re doing to him actually makes him lose his mind.

“F-fuck, peach—your mouth—shit,” Jungkook pants, his voice torn open and uneven, one hand slipping down from your cheek as you suck him deeper. “You’ve got some fucking mouth—ah—”

Your eyes are brimming with tears now, real ones, from the sheer stretch and effort of taking him. Your jaw aches, throat tight around the thick girth of him, your lips puffy and soaked. But you don’t stop — not even when it hurts your throat so bad that the unshed tears finally fall down your cheeks. Because you need to feel him cum. 

And judging by the frantic way his hips twitch against your mouth, the way his hand tightens in your hair — you believe he might be close to losing it. And you’re right by that. 

“Shit—shit—I’m gonna cum—fuck, baby, I’m—”

Both your hands move to the back of his thighs, digging your nails gently into his flesh, shoving your head all the way down his cock, not caring that your throat hurts so bad you could scream. Because when you look up at him, when you see his eyes roll to the back of his head, see the way sweat runs down his temple, down his plump chest, there’s no stopping you. 

His entire body shudders. “I’m cumming—baby, I’m cumming—holy fuck—”

With a deep, desperate moan, he spills into your mouth, thick and hot ropes of cum that hit the back of your throat before you can blink. You moan around him, swallowing as fast as you can, not wasting a single drop. 

Jungkook doesn’t stop twitching. He pulses again and again, his free hand trembling on your jaw as he now watches you gulp down on his cum, watches as both his release and your spit seeps from the corners of your mouth and down your chin. He watches in complete awe. Would you look at that? You’ve got the Jeon Jungkook, your fucking childhood crush, your fucking real time crush, wrapped around your finger. Or wrapped around your tongue, would maybe be better wording here. 

“Fucking look at you,” he moans, voice unhinged. “How are you real?”

You keep going, soft sucks to his oversensitive tip, tongue tracing along the underside of his shaft where a veins throbs beneath the skin. You want him clean, completely. So you don’t stop until there’s nothing left, until his cock is wet with only your spit, your tongue dragging slowly along every vein. 

He shudders, twitches again, and suddenly retracts from you, leaving your throat sore and hurting. “Stop—stop,” he pants franticly, suddenly getting down on his knees before you, almost meeting your height. Without further notice, he wraps both hands around your waist, pulling you flush to him, closing the distance with a sloppy kiss. “Fuck—you’ll be the death of me.”

You’ve never had a guy do this — kiss the mouth that just swallowed ropes own his own cum. His tongue rolls into your mouth, not even caring about the bitter aftertaste of his release, moaning against you as you press your tits against his sweaty chest. 

So there you are, on the floor of the backroom, VHS tapes scattered across the floor alongside all your clothes, making out heavily as if you haven’t just ruined each other completely. 

“Think you can walk outta here?” Jungkook laughs against your lips, not even letting you answer before his tongue breaches your mouth again. 

You gasp for air, running your fingernails down his chest, leaving white marks all over him that will certainly turn red in a moment. “Probably not.” 

“Too bad then,” he breathes, kissing the corner of your mouth, your jaw, your neck, eating you up. “I’ll have to carry you everywhere now. What a drag,” he teases, not leaving as much as an inch of your skin untouched by his lips. 

“Oh no,” you mock, trembling in his arms as his kisses find the sensitive spot of your neck. 

“Can I ask you something weird?” he breathes against your collarbone, licking and sucking on your skin as he waits for your answer. You only nod above him, eyes shutting close as he lavishes you in wet kisses. His next words come out low, almost unnoticeable, but your eyes widen the moment you hear them.