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One More (and then I'll listen) | J.JK

↳ summary: ten years of platonic safety, completely incinerated over cold kitchen marble. a frantic morning-after argument about a drunken confession turns into a dangerous game of chicken. you think you're being the smart one, desperately trying to protect a decade-long friendship from total wreckage—until a single, devastating kiss proves that neither of you can afford to stay just friends anymore.

↳ friends to lovers!au;

↳ pairing: idol!jeongguk x f!reader

↳ warnings: shameless smut, heavy praise and unprotected oral. features a completely undone, whiny, and pathetically submissive jeongguk who is brought entirely to his knees, begging for a taste before fucking you through his own overstimulation. brace yourselves........ :)

↳ word count: 13.1 k

a/n: this is actually my first ever request. here is the the original ask! the person who requested didn't reply anymore, so i took it upon myself to just run with it—yay for creative freedom and what not. hopefully i delivered question mark?

i’m a bit anxious about this ngl since it is a bit out of my comfort area so please lmk your thoughts :')

we absolutely love subkoo propaganda in this house. though i must admit, i could've made him even more sub, but baby steps am i right?

—

ONE SHOT

STARRING JEONGGUK

You’re very good at making bad decisions.

You and Jeongguk have been friends for a very long time. Platonic friends, of course. The kind of bond forged in the messy, unfiltered trenches of youth long before the rest of the world decided he belonged to them.

You remember every single time he’s been there for you, steady as an anchor. He was the one who sat on the kitchen counter at three in the morning, quietly listening to you cry over a brutal breakup, holding the pint of melting ice cream while you ranted. He was the one who dragged his exhausted body out of bed in the dead of winter just to jump-start your dead car battery, completely uncomplaining as his hands turned bright red in the freezing air. When you failed that massive university exam, he didn't offer empty platitudes; he just showed up at your door with a bag of cheap convenience store snacks and your favorite video game, sitting in silence with you until the heavy cloud in your chest lifted.

And you’ve been there for him just as fiercely. You were the one who held his hair back in a cramped, dimly lit bathroom after he drank way too much at a party, rubbing his back while he muttered pathetic apologies. You were the one who helped him pack up his entire life into mismatched cardboard boxes when he finally left his small hometown, taping the edges shut while he nervously paced the room. You even let him experiment on you with a box of cheap, questionable hair dye on a random Tuesday, resulting in a green-stained forehead and a frantic midnight run to a 24-hour pharmacy, laughing so hard your stomachs ached in the fluorescent aisles.

However, you didn't take into account that he would get famous at some point. Obviously, he had all the cards to do so, you weren't blind.

He’s attractive. He’s sweet. He has a good heart that bleeds through everything he touches.

And then there are the physical realities you've forced yourself to ignore for years. He has impeccable, impeccable hands—veiny, strong, and large enough to completely swallow yours. He has a fiercely toned body, hardened by years of relentless dance practice and gym sessions, a sharp contrast to the gentle soul inside him. And, of course, those sweet, round eyes you melt for every single time he looks up at you, completely disarming whatever defenses you try to build.

So when he texted you saying he was back home for a little while before heading out on the massive world tour again, of course you said yes.

Why would you not? He was your best friend.

Except you completely forgot that during his brief stints of downtime, Jeongguk had a tendency to pick up hyper-fixated new hobbies. Which is exactly how you found yourself standing in the doorway of his private garage, completely frozen.

He was entirely underneath the chassis of a sleek, vintage car, legs sprawling out across the concrete floor. He was straining against a stubborn bolt, and the physical effort caused his dark t-shirt to ride up drastically, exposing a wide strip of his lower abdomen.

Your eyes trapped themselves right there, staring directly at his happy trail. It was a sharp, dark line of hair cutting perfectly across his toned stomach, disappearing straight into the low waistband of his grey sweatpants.

Avert your gaze? Maybe you should. You absolutely had to.

Instead, a stray, dangerous thought crossed your mind, wondering exactly where that trail led and if it really was a happy place. You would certainly guess so, taking into account the sheer volume of women who willingly flung themselves at him daily on global television.

Jeongguk, meanwhile, was acutely aware of the shift in the room's atmosphere the second you walked in. From his vantage point beneath the metal frame, he heard your footsteps halt. He could feel the phantom heat of your eyes burning into his exposed skin. His heart did a violent flip in his chest, his fingers tightening around his wrench. He purposely stayed still for a beat longer than necessary, his breath hitching, secretly thrilled by the weight of your undivided attention.

To break the suffocating silence, you finally spoke, semi-yelling over the clinking of his tools, "Yo! Koo, what the fuck are you doing?"

Hearing your voice, Jeongguk finally kicked against the floor, sliding himself out from under the car on his mechanic's creeper.

When he fully emerged, the sight of him made your throat go completely dry. He had grease smudged across his jaw, a dirty shirt clinging to his frame, and a sweaty forehead. A few moist, dark hair strands were sticking directly to his skin, and the tiny silver hoop of his lip piercing glinted sharply in the garage lighting.

You gulped. Hard. Maybe it was just because you hadn't seen him in a while, or maybe it was because the platonic shield you usually wore was rapidly cracking to pieces.

Jeongguk blinked up at you, tracking the slight bob of your throat as you swallowed. A quiet wave of satisfaction washed over him, melting his internal nerves into something warm and soft. He let his head fall back slightly, looking up at you through his lashes with the sweetest, most innocent smile he could muster.

"Hi," he replied softly, his voice a low, raspy rumble that did absolutely nothing to help your racing pulse.

He laughed, a bright, breathless sound, and stepped toward you with his arms wide open. It was clear he wanted nothing more than to throw his arms around you after being separated by a massive ocean for months, but you immediately took a sharp step back, hands raised in a defensive barrier.

"Don't even think about it," you warned, eyeing the black grease smudged across his arms. "I am not getting engine oil all over my clothes."

Jeongguk paused, his arms still half-extended, his lips pouting into a familiar, dramatic frown. "So?" he asked, tilting his head with an entitled little whine. "It's just a shirt. I haven't seen you in forever."

Before you could reiterate that you actually liked your outfit, he reached down, gripped the hem of his dark t-shirt, and pulled it over his head in one fluid, practiced motion. Your breath caught awkwardly in your throat. Now, the toned lines of his chest and abdomen were fully on display, glistening with a light sheen of sweat under the garage lights. He didn't even seem to notice your sudden internal panic as he casually crumpled the expensive fabric into a ball, using it as a makeshift rag to roughly wipe the grease off his hands.

Tossing the ruined shirt onto a nearby tool stool, he stepped right back into your space. "Better?" he murmured, a cheeky, triumphant grin spreading across his face before he locked his bare, warm arms securely around your waist, pulling you flush against him.

You let out a defeated sigh, but you didn't pull away. You hugged him back, burying your face against the warm crook of his shoulder, the familiar, comforting scent of him cutting right through the sharp smell of gasoline and metal.

If you were being 100% honest with yourself, you did have a crush on him. You had been harboring a crush on him for a very long time.

You just never vocalized it. To you, it was always safer to remain a constant, unshakeable variable in his chaotic life rather than risk ruining something so irreplaceable. All of his past relationships had eventually crashed and burned, a pattern that only grew worse once global fame started violently colliding with his love life and relentless schedules. You had absolutely no intention of losing Jeongguk to a stupid, juvenile crush you’d developed nearly ten years ago—all because he’d sweetly given you his last cherry popsicle on a scorching summer afternoon.

Jeongguk squeezed you a little tighter before finally releasing you, though his hands lingered on your arms for a beat too long. "I want to throw a party tonight," he announced, his round eyes shining with genuine excitement as he swiped a damp strand of hair from his forehead. "Just like old times. I want to actually have fun without a million eyes on me."

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. "Oh? Tell me about it. Who are we inviting?"

"Only old friends," he said instantly, his tone turning protective. "Nobody new. Nobody with a hidden motive or a vendetta. Just the people who knew me before... all of this."

You smirked, a teasing glint in your eyes as you nudged his bare shoulder. "What, so you didn't bring any international flings home with you in first class?"

Jeongguk let out a self-deprecating laugh, shaking his head as he ran a hand through his messy hair. "No way. I'm going girl-sober for a while. Women completely fuck up my senses."

He wasn't lying, and you knew it. Jeongguk was a hopeless, unapologetic serial romantic. He was a boy who loved with his entire soul, completely incapable of doing anything casual even if his life depended on it. It was his ultimate Achilles' heel. He wore his heart so openly on his sleeve, entirely defenseless, and people always seemed to have other, more transactional plans for it.

"Girl-sober, huh?" you echoed, trying to ignore the sudden, dangerous flutter in your stomach at his words. "Let's see how long that actually lasts."

"Oh, it will last," Jeongguk said, his tone dropping into a quieter, more deliberate register as he looked down at you. "You'll make sure of it."

You blinked, momentarily losing your train of thought as your eyes tracked a stray bead of sweat rolling down his collarbone. "Pardon?"

"You’re the only one I can trust with my heart right now," he explained smoothly, a completely earnest, unguarded look washing over his features. He stepped a fraction closer, the heat radiating off his bare chest practically enveloping you. "So, yes. You. Making sure no one is hurting your super hot friend."

Your knees almost buckled right there on the oil-stained concrete.

Super hot?

Did he just casually drop that into conversation like he hadn't spent the last ten years being your dorky, platonic sidekick? Before you could even formulate a coherent response, Jeongguk caught the sudden shock on your face. A playful, slightly teasing glint sparked in his dark eyes, his lips tilting up at the corners.

"Am I not?" he challenged softly, tilting his head as if genuinely waiting for your assessment.

You swallowed hard, your mind scrambling to put the platonic walls back up before he noticed how fast your heart was beating. "I plead the fifth."

Jeongguk let out a breathy, dramatic groan, throwing his head back before looking down at you through his lashes. "God, Y/N, you’re so dramatic. I can openly say you’re hot."

Your brain completely short-circuited. "Sorry?"

"What?" He shrugged his shoulders, completely unfazed by the bomb he’d just dropped in the middle of his garage. "It’s not like it’s federal information. You’re attractive, I’m attractive. You should be able to speak open truths."

You gulped again, the sound loud in your own ears as you looked anywhere but at the hard lines of his chest. "Fine," you grumbled, forcing the words past your lips like a confession under interrogation. "You’re hot. Happy?"

Jeongguk’s playful smirk instantly vanished, replaced by a dramatic, exaggerated pout. He whined, the sound high and petulant, as he crossed his arms over his chest. "No, see? Now I don't even want it anymore if you don't actually believe it."

You let out a sharp scoff, throwing your hands up in disbelief. "Where the hell is that coming from?"

"I'm serious," he insisted, his voice dropping into a quieter, more vulnerable register. He stepped a fraction closer, his shoes almost touching the tips of yours. He looked down at you, completely stripped of his usual idol persona. "I don't want you to say things just because I want to hear them. I have enough people in my life for that,Y/N. Millions of them. I don't need it from you."

The sudden, raw honesty of his words hit you like a physical weight. You looked up, meeting his gaze, and swear his eyes just got ten times more sparkly and round, shimmering with a sudden, intense vulnerability.

He was practically vibrating with the unspoken urge to be perceived, truly perceived, by the only person whose opinion actually mattered to him.

The platonic armor you’d spent so long building suddenly felt paper-thin. You let out a soft sigh, reaching out to gently tap his bare chest, right over his racing heart.

"Jeongguk," you said, your voice softening, holding his gaze so he knew you meant it. "You're hot. I'm not just saying it."

The second the words left your mouth, the heavy tension broke. A massive, radiant grin split across his face, his eyes crinkling at the corners into those familiar, endearing crescent shapes.

"Thank you," he sang out in a sweet, sing-song voice, practically beaming as he swayed his shoulders from side to side like a praised toddler. The transition from a brooding, shirtless man to a needy, praise-hungry boy was so fast it made your head spin, leaving you entirely at the mercy of whatever games he was playing with your heart.

You spent the whole afternoon prepping for the said party. You were beyond glad for his shiny black card, which you used with zero remorse. It could buy the good alcohol—the top-shelf stuff his agency normally rationed him on—along with an obscene mountain of incredible snacks that you knew you would half-demolish before the guests even knocked on the door. You had bags of high-end chips, imported chocolates, and savory finger foods piled high on his marble kitchen counters, casually stealing a handful of pretzels every time you walked by.

His apartment was massive, but it was also quite dark. He had a penchant for heavy, blackout curtains and moody industrial architecture, and you laughed a ton when you tried to string up some extra LED lights around the living room and hallways. You muttered to yourself while balancing on a stool, desperately trying to ensure people wouldn't step on each other's toes in the pitch-black tomb of his very boy-coded apartment.

It was a chaotic mix of state-of-the-art gaming rigs, massive speakers, random workout equipment in the corner, and a giant plush couch that screamed bachelor pad.

His bedroom, however, was strictly off-limits. Locked and closed for the public.

As you passed the heavy wood door on your way to the bathroom, you paused. You hadn't been inside his room in a long way, and your mind naturally began to wander, curiosity pricking at your chest. You started to wonder how it had changed from the last time you were there, back when it was just a messy pile of clothes and a mattress on the floor. Now, as even a more famous star than he was at the start, did he have silk sheets? A massive canopy bed?

More dangerously, you started to wonder what women had seen those sheets. Which faces had looked up at him in the dark?

At last, you forcefully pushed the burning thought aside, shaking your head to clear the sudden spike of jealousy. It didn't matter. You had a job to do, and besides, the guests were finally starting to arrive.

The heavy front door clicked open, and the quiet tomb of his apartment was instantly flooded with chatter and laughter as his oldest childhood friends spilled into the entryway. Jeongguk was already standing by the kitchen island, the grease long washed from his skin, replaced by a soft, oversized black sweater and a fresh scent. He’d clearly been anticipating the social buffering, because by the time the first three people crossed the threshold, Jeongguk had already thrown back two heavy shots of tequila.

His round eyes were already bright and crinkling with a loose, alcohol-fueled warmth.

Throwing his hands into the air, his silver lip piercing catching the glow of the newly strung lights, he yelled at the top of his lungs, "Welcome, party people!"

The room erupted into cheers, his friends rushing forward to swarm him, throwing arms around his broad shoulders and pulling him into a chaotic huddle of loud greetings and deep belly laughs. From across the room, you leaned against the kitchen counter, watching him instantly dissolve back into the boy he used to be, completely shielded from the crushing weight of his global fame by the people who loved him first.

The party shifted into high gear with the easy, unpretentious noise of people who had nothing to prove to each other. In the hazy glow of the blue and purple lights, the living room felt less like a celebrity’s multi-million dollar fortress and more like a time capsule.

"I’m just saying," Jin-woo, one of Jeongguk’s oldest friends from his hometown, gestured wildly with a half-eaten chip, "If a zombie apocalypse happens right now, Koo is the first to die. He’s too polite. He’d try to bow to a zombie before kicking it."

"No way!" Jeongguk protested, his voice a little too loud, a little too slurred as he leaned heavily against the back of the plush couch. He poured himself another shot of tequila, his hand shaking just enough that a few drops splashed onto his knuckles. "I have muscle memory now. I’d do a 360-kick. Boom. Dead zombie."

"You'd cry if you got blood on your designer shoes," you chimed in from the kitchen island, swirling the ice cubes in your cup.

Jeongguk’s head snapped toward you instantly. His sweet, round eyes were heavily hooded, a dark, glossy sheen over them as he tracked your movement. A soft, lazy smile spread across his face, his silver lip piercing catching the strobe of the lights. "Y/N... you’re supposed to be on my side. Always."

"I am on your side. I'm just realistic," you laughed, taking a slow sip.

You were barely on your second glass of vodka cranberry, the tart liquid still mostly full as you paced yourself. You had to. Someone needed to keep an eye on the house, and more importantly, someone needed to keep an eye on him.

Jeongguk, on the other hand, was throwing them back like water. The pressure of the upcoming tour, the suffocating nature of his daily life—it was all bleeding out of him in the form of liquid courage. He was drinking to forget the idol.

An hour later, the loud, stupid arguments dissolved into the inevitable late-night deep talk. Three of his friends were sprawled on the floor, debating the existence of aliens, while Jin-woo had moved onto the balcony for a smoke.

Jeongguk somehow navigated his way over to you, his shoulders bumping into yours as he leaned heavily against the kitchen counter. He smelled like expensive cologne and sharp alcohol.

"You're barely drinking," he murmured, his voice dropping into that low, raspy rumble that always made your stomach do backflips. He reached out, his large hand wrapping around your wrist, his thumb casually brushing against your pulse point. His touch was warm, heavy, and intentionally lingering.

"Someone has to make sure you don't break your own furniture," you teased gently, though your heart was suddenly hammering against your ribs. "How many shots is that now? Five? Six?"

"Doesn't matter," he whispered, stepping a fraction closer, completely ignoring the chatter of his friends just twenty feet away. He looked down at you, his large eyes shimmering under the dim kitchen lights. "Everything feels... too loud out there, Y/N. But when I look at you, it stops."

Your breath hitched.

"Jeongguk, you're drunk," you whispered back, trying to maintain the boundary, trying not to let your ten-year-old crush completely take over.

"I am," he admitted softly, his grip on your wrist tightening just a fraction as he leaned his forehead down, almost touching your shoulder. It was that physical surrender again—putting himself entirely in your space, begging you without words to hold him together. "But I'm only brave when the sun goes down. You know that. Stay 'til sunrise. Please."

"Fine," you sighed, trying to ignore the frantic pounding in your chest as you gently patted his broad, sweater-clad shoulder. "But you’re taking the couch tonight, Koo. I’m not carrying you anywhere."

A soft, breathy laugh left his throat, and before you could even brace yourself, Jeongguk leaned in. He pressed his lips firmly against your temple, a lingering, warm pressure that smelled faintly of tequila and mint. "Thank you," he murmured against your skin, a string of another quiet, drunken thank yous spilling out of his mouth as he finally pulled back.

You stood there, entirely frozen, your brain struggling to process how to function normally. Those sweet, tactile gestures of his had remained exactly the same over the last decade. It was just a temple kiss. It was the kind of thing he’d done a hundred times when you were younger, yet now, with his shoulders framing you and his deep voice vibrating in his chest, it rattled you down to your very core.

Before you could spiral any further into your own head, Hana—one of Jin-woo’s louder cousins who had tagged along—yelled from the living room floor, clapping her hands together to get everyone's attention.

"Hey! Enough with the alien talk," Hana shouted, swirling the ice in her cup. "We should play something actually fun. Like truth or dare... or better yet, truth or drink!"

The room instantly erupted into murmurs of agreement, but nobody moved faster than Jeongguk. His face lit up, his round eyes wide and sparkling under the blue LED's as he practically jumped at the opportunity to drink more.

"Truth or drink," Jeongguk cheered, his voice loose and excited as he pushed off the kitchen counter. He grabbed the half-empty bottle of top-shelf tequila by the neck, giving you a quick, triumphant look over his shoulder. "Yes. Let's do it. I'm choosing drink every single damn time, I don't care."

He stumbled slightly as he made his way to the center of the room, dropping heavily onto the plush rug right in the middle of the circle, looking up at everyone like a kid waiting for a game to start. He was already so completely undone, and as you walked over to join the circle with your barely touched vodka cranberry, a sudden, heavy wave of anticipation settled deep in your stomach.

You knew exactly how Jeongguk played games when he was like this. He was honest to a fault, but tonight, with the alcohol running warm through his veins he might start being too honest.

The bottle of tequila sat right in the center of the hardwood floor, spinning rapidly under the flashing lights until it slowed down, its neck pointing directly at Jin-woo.

"Alright, alright," Jin-woo grinned, leaning forward on his knees. He looked across the circle at Jeongguk, who was sitting cross-legged, a little loopy, swaying slightly to the music. "Koo. First round. Truth or drink. What is the absolute worst thing about being a global superstar? Give us the real dirt."

You expected Jeongguk to reach for his cup immediately. His agency spent millions of dollars training him to handle questions like this with perfectly polished, diplomatic answers. Instead, Jeongguk just let out a soft, hazy laugh, his eyes dropping to his hands.

"The loneliness," he said, the sheer honesty of his voice cutting right through the lighthearted party atmosphere. The circle went quiet. Jeongguk looked up, his round eyes wide and entirely undisguised by his usual idol armor. "You think you're surrounded by the world, but when the stage lights go off, you're just sitting alone in a sterile hotel room in a country where you don't speak the language, wondering if anyone actually misses you, or if they just miss the guy on the posters. It's suffocating."

A collective, sympathetic hum went around the room. Jin-woo blinked, clearly not expecting him to drop something so heavy in the first five minutes. You felt a familiar twist of pain in your chest, your eyes softening as you looked at him. Jeongguk didn't take a sip, he just gave a tiny, vulnerable shrug, completely comfortable laying his soul bare in front of the people who knew him before the fame.

Hana spun the bottle next. It whirled around before grinding to a halt, pointing straight back at Jeongguk.

"Oh, my turn," Hana perked up, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Okay, Jeongguk. You said earlier today that you're 'girl-sober' right now. So tell the truth: when was the last time you actually kissed someone, and did it mean anything?"

You held your breath, your fingers tightening around your glass of vodka cranberry.

Jeongguk tilted his head back against the edge of the couch behind him, a slow, lazy smile spreading across his face. He didn't even reach for the tequila bottle. "Two years ago," he stated bluntly, his voice a low, raspy rumble. "A girl I met during a break between promotions. And no, it didn't mean anything. That was the problem. I tried to make it mean something because I hate casual stuff, but she just wanted to tell her friends she was dating an idol. It felt transactional. I hated it."

"Damn," Hana muttered, taking a drink of her own beer out of pure secondhand awkwardness. "You're really not holding back tonight, are you?"

"I told you," Jeongguk murmured, his dark, glossy eyes suddenly shifting across the circle until they locked directly onto yours. "I don't want to say fake things tonight. I'm tired of it."

Before the heavy silence following Jeongguk’s sudden drink can completely suffocate the room, Jin-woo quickly reaches out and gives the glass bottle another aggressive spin. It whirs sharply on the hardwood floor, a blur of green glass under the flashing blue lights, before slowing down and pointing its cap directly at you.

"Oh, finally! The spotlight shifts," Hana cheers, leaning forward on her elbows with a wicked, deeply intrigued grin. She doesn't hesitate for a second. "Okay, Y/N. Truth or drink. We all know you're fiercely independent in your daily life, but does that translate to the bedroom? Are you the type who likes to be completely in charge, calling all the shots, or do you prefer to submit?"

Your heart does a violent, erratic leap against your ribs. Out of the corner of your eye, you feel Jeongguk freeze.

You slowly turn your head to look at him, and the sheer intensity of his gaze almost makes you gasp. His sweet, round eyes are completely dark, his pupils blown so wide they nearly swallow the irises. He’s staring at your lips, his chest heaving under his oversized black sweater, practically vibrating with a sudden, suffocating hunger. He looks entirely undone by the question, his lips parting slightly as he waits for your answer with a desperate, breathless anticipation.

You clear your throat, forcing your voice to remain steady. "I think prefer being in charge," you reply, keeping it blunt and confident. "I like the feeling of control."

A low, collective “Ooooooh” ripples through the circle of friends, but you barely hear them. The absolute heat of Jeongguk’s unblinking stare is burning into your skin, making your throat go completely dry. Even though you answered the truth, you desperately need a distraction, so you lift your glass of vodka cranberry and take a heavy, long sip, letting the tart alcohol burn away the sudden spike of nerves.

"Knew it!" Hana laughs loudly, raising her cup to you in approval. "A total boss. Honestly, whoever ends up in your bed is a lucky bastard."

Hana grabs the bottle next, giving it a careless flick to keep the game moving. It spins and lands right back on her. Jin-woo immediately jumps in with a smirk. "Alright, Hana, truth or drink: Is it true you secretly cried when your ex got a matching tattoo with his new girlfriend?" Hana gasps, throwing a couch pillow directly at his face before grabbing her beer. "Shut up! I'm drinking, I am absolutely drinking for that one," she groans, chugging a massive gulp while everyone erupts into loud, teasing laughter.

The distraction gives you a brief moment to breathe, but when you glance back at Jeongguk, he hasn't moved an inch. He is still looking up at you from his spot on the floor, his silver lip piercing glinting.

The bottle gets spun again, whirring lazily until it grinds to a halt, pointing directly at another childhood friend, Jisung.

Jisung groans, rubbing the back of his neck. "Ah, man. Go easy on me. I've had a rough week."

Seojun leans forward, a thoughtful expression replacing his usual mischievous grin as the atmosphere shifts back into something a bit deeper. "Alright, Jisung. Real talk. Truth or drink: Since we're all getting older and life is pulling us in different directions, do you ever feel like you're getting left behind by the rest of us?"

Jisung sighs, a sad, honest smile touching his lips as he looks around the circle, his eyes briefly lingering on Jeongguk’s massive, luxurious apartment. "Yeah," Jisung admits softly, his voice quiet against the background music. "Sometimes it's hard. Like, I'm so incredibly proud of Koo, and I love seeing all of you succeed, but looking at my own nine-to-five... it makes me feel like I'm standing still while everyone else is running. It's a weird kind of pressure."

"Dude, no," Jeongguk speaks up instantly, his raspy voice full of genuine affection. He leans forward, completely breaking the circle's boundary to grab Jisung’s shoulder, squeezing it tightly with his hand. "Don't ever think that. None of this fame stuff matters if I don't have you guys to come home to. You're not left behind. You're exactly where you need to be."

Jisung smiles, visibly touched, and raises his glass to clink it against Jeongguk's tequila bottle. The warmth of their old friendship fills the room, but as Jeongguk pulls his hand back, his dark, heavy eyes slide right back to yours.

The rest of the party continued in a hazy blur of slurred words, loud, nostalgic belly laughs, and increasingly messy drinking. By the time the clock crawled past three in the morning, the high-energy atmosphere had completely dissolved. The final straw came when Jisung, looking pale and thoroughly defeated by the alcohol, stumbled toward the entryway and nearly threw up directly into a massive, expensive indoor plant pot.

Jin-woo caught him by the back of his jacket just in time. That was officially everyone's cue to leave.

There was a chaotic fifteen minutes of shuffling feet, mumbled thank-yous, and heavy slaps on shoulders as you helped herd his childhood friends out into the hallway. When the heavy front door finally clicked shut, the sudden, absolute silence of the multi-million dollar apartment felt deafening.

You turned back toward the living room, only to find Jeongguk dragging his feet across the hardwood floor. True to his word from earlier, he was clutching a plush, oversized pillow under one arm and trailing a heavy, dark duvet behind him, preparing to claim the sofa.

He was so incredibly drunk. His broad shoulders were slouched under his black sweater, his movements completely uncoordinated. As he tried to navigate around the low coffee table, his knee clipped the edge, causing him to stumble awkwardly. His hand shot out to steady himself, almost knocking an empty highball glass clean off the wood surface.

"Whoa, easy there," you murmured, quickly stepping into his space. You grabbed the glass before it could shatter, setting it safely aside, and then crouched down slightly to match his eye level as he heavily dropped his weight onto the edge of the cushions. "Koo... look at you. I think you should actually just take the bed tonight. I can sleep out here."

Jeongguk immediately gestured a clumsy, emphatic no with his hand, shaking his head so hard a few strands of dark hair fell into his face. The sudden movement clearly sent a wave of vertigo through him, because it was instantly followed by a pained, whispered, "Jesus..."as he tightly pressed his palm against his forehead, closing his eyes against the dim lights.

You cocked a brow at him, amused but secretly melting at how soft and defenseless he looked when the tough idol persona was stripped away entirely. "See? You can barely hold your head up. Go to your room, Jeongguk."

"No," he rasped, his voice incredibly deep and thick with sleep and alcohol. He slowly dropped his hand from his face, lifting his head to look up at you through his thick lashes. His sweet, round eyes were heavily hooded, wide and shimmering with some sort of vulnerability. "Don't go yet. Let's... let's talk for a while. I missed you. I missed you so much, Y/N."

Your heart did a violent, erratic hammer against your chest at the sheer desperation in his tone. It was a direct plea, completely unguarded.

Despite the warning bells screaming in your head about your decade-long crush, you found yourself complying. You let out a soft breath and sat down right next to him on the couch, the plush cushions sinking under your weight as his heavy, warm presence instantly enveloped you in the quiet dark.

The moment you settled onto the cushion, his heavy head fell sideways, landing directly on your shoulder. You were instantly engulfed by his scent. It was a fragrance so deeply familiar to you, cutting right through the tequila-infused softness he had going on tonight.

Jeongguk always smelled incredibly clean. Over the years, you had grown to associate crispy, clean cotton smells with his smile. Whenever his brutal, tight schedules didn't allow him the time to text or call you for weeks on end, you had found a strange sort of reprieve in those scents—buying detergents or candles that smelled like fresh laundry just to feel like he wasn't entirely a world away.

He shifted against you, his cheek rubbing into the fabric of your shirt as the quiet apartment settled around you both. He noted the sudden, heavy silence in the room and tilted his head up just enough to look at your profile, his bottom lip pushing out into an almost childlike pout.

"Did not you miss me too?" he asked, his deep voice muffled against your neck, raw and terribly needy.

You couldn't help the soft smile that tugged at your lips. You turned your head slightly, your breath brushing over his hair. "Obviously, Koo. How could I not? You’re my best friend."

At the word friend, Jeongguk let out a low, vibration-heavy hum in his chest. It wasn't a happy sound. He closed his eyes, his brow furrowing as he tightly gripped a fistful of the dark duvet resting on his lap.

"I'm so confused," he whispered, the admission sounding small and cracked.

You blinked, shifting slightly so you could look down at his face. "Why?" you asked softly, your heart doing a nervous, anticipatory flutter against your ribs. "What's making you confused?"

"Because it should feel different," Jeongguk muttered, his voice dropping into a register so low and raspy it sent a physical shiver straight down your spine. He didn't lift his head from your shoulder. He just pressed closer, his warm breath seeping through the fabric of your shirt.

You grew thoroughly confused, your fingers tightening around the edge of the couch cushion. "What? What should feel different, Koo?"

He let out a ragged, heavy sigh, his chest expanding against your side. "Everything," he whispered. "I’ve been thinking for a while... that love, real romantic love, should feel at least as deep and all-consuming as the type of love I have for you."

The wind was completely knocked out of your lungs. For a terrifying second, you forgot how to breathe entirely. Your mind raced back over the last ten years, the late-night phone calls, the quiet domesticity of your friendship, and the heavy, burning crush you had tried so desperately to bury. You bit your lip hard, the sharp sting of pain the only thing keeping you grounded, in a desperate attempt to steady your trembling voice.

"Jeongguk," you breathed, your voice barely audible over the hum of the refrigerator in the quiet apartment. "What... what do you mean by that?"

He finally pulled his head back from your shoulder, shifting on the plush cushions so he could face you fully. He looked entirely undone by the alcohol and the sheer weight of his own thoughts. He started explaining with his hands, his long fingers cutting through the dim light. His intricate tattoos shifted across his skin, and the silver rings on his fingers glinted sharply in the dark as he gestured in frustration.

"I can't do casual, Y/N," he said, his eyes wide, glossy, and swimming with a desperate, heavy sensitivity. "I can't. Because I know how true love should feel. I know it because of you. Every single time I’ve tried to date, every time I’ve tried to build something with someone else, I find myself associating what I feel for them in comparison with you."

A beat.

Two beats.

Three beats.

The silence in the room became so heavy it was suffocating.

"And every single time," Jeongguk whispered, his head tilting down as he looked up at you through his lashes, completely stripping away his defenses and surrendering his heart right into your hands, "I’ve found that they always come short. In comparison with you."

You tried to diffuse the situation right then and there. Your brain was working in overdrive, frantically constructing walls because the alternative—believing him—meant stepping into a territory that could ruin everything you had built over the last years.

He was drunk. He was clearly not thinking straight. He was currently trying to be girl-sober, and in your mind, he was just projecting his deeply ingrained, serial monogamist tendencies onto the closest, safest thing he had. You.

It wasn’t true. It couldn't be true.

"Jeongguk," you said, your voice tight as you forced a breath into your lungs, desperately trying to ignore how loud your own heart was knocking against your ribs. "I think you’re just projecting. You're exhausted, you've been lonely on tour, and you're just confusing comfort for something else."

He muttered a low, ragged "Jesus..."again, his hand rising to tightly press against his forehead. He didn't even seem to fully process what you said, completely deaf to the frantic rhythm of your chest as the alcohol and the emotional weight of his own confession finally dragged him under.

The raw intensity in his eyes flickered out, replaced by heavy exhaustion. Without another word, he let his upper body slide sideways, his head plopping heavily onto the plush pillow he’d thrown on the edge of the couch.

He curled his body slightly into the cushions, his dark lashes fluttering shut as a deep, uneven breath left his parted lips, leaving you sitting there in the dim blue LED light, completely frozen next to him.

That’s when you realize his bedroom door was probably still locked, a solid block of wood protecting a room you weren't allowed to enter.

You had absolutely no option but to sleep on the couch next to him. Letting out a quiet, defeated breath, you grabbed the edge of the heavy, dark duvet he’d brought out, pulling it over both of your bodies to shield against the air conditioning. You shifted your weight, settling into the cushions as best you could, and tried to sleep.

It was impossible. Seven thousand thoughts were swirling in your mind, a chaotic storm of memory and denial.

But Jeongguk was drunk.

He was completely out of it, his deep, even breaths rising and falling against your side. He wouldn't remember this in the morning, you told yourself. Tomorrow, the sun would come up, the platonic armor would go back on, and he would just be your best friend again. You closed your eyes, letting the clean cotton scent of him anchor you as you finally drifted into a restless sleep, completely unaware of how thin the line between you had truly become.

But the next morning, he was nowhere to be seen.

When you finally opened your eyes, blinking against the harsh, bright sunlight piercing through the cracks of the heavy blackout curtains, the couch beside you was completely empty. You checked your phone—it was god knows what hour of the late morning—and the realization that you were alone in the vast, quiet space hit you like a cold splash of water. The heavy dark duvet was pulled back, the plush pillow still holding the indentation of his head, but Jeongguk was gone.

So naturally, you grew a bit anxious.

A tight, familiar knot formed in the pit of your stomach as you sat up, the silence of the multi-million dollar apartment suddenly feeling incredibly heavy. Your mind instantly began to scramble, racing back through the events of the previous night. You hoped with everything you had that he would just forget what he said last night. You prayed the tequila had completely wiped his memory, that the slurred confessions about true love and people coming up short in comparison to you would just evaporate into the morning air. If he forgot, everything could go back to normal. You could go back to being the constant, unshakeable variable in his life.

But then the darker, terrifying thoughts started to bleed in, turning your anxiety into full-blown panic.

What if he remembered? What if he woke up with a pounding headache and a crystal-clear recollection of every single word that had left his mouth? What if he was so thoroughly mortified, so repulsed by the fact that he had crossed that sacred platonic line and laid his soul bare, that he had physically chosen to flee his own home just to avoid looking you in the eye?

You stood up, your knees slightly shaky, your eyes darting toward the hallway. His bedroom door was still closed, but the heavy silence in the apartment made it feel like he had abandoned the entire place just to escape the mess he’d created in the dark.

That’s when you heard the faucet running.

The sharp, metallic hiss of rushing water cut through the suffocating silence of the apartment, drawing your attention toward the kitchen. Your heart skipped a beat, the knot of anxiety in your stomach loosening just a fraction, only to tighten again with a completely different kind of tension.

With small steps, your feet padding quietly against the cold hardwood floor, you made your way down the hall. Every single breath you took felt like lead, heavy and burning in your chest. You braced yourself for a tense, awkward confrontation, preparing to play off his drunken rambling as a massive joke.

Instead, you rounded the corner and saw him in all his glory, completely naked from the belt up.

The bright morning sunlight poured through the kitchen window, hitting the sharp, fiercely toned lines of his back and shoulders as he stood in front of the sink. He had a clean pair of grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips, exposing that dark, dangerous happy trail you’d been obsessing over the day before. His skin practically glistened, completely washed clean of the previous night's sweat and alcohol, and his dark, damp hair strands curled slightly around his nape. He was rinsing out a couple of mugs, hands moving with effortless, domestic grace.

As if sensing your presence, Jeongguk turned around.

There was no repulsion on his face. No awkwardness, no frantic desire to flee. Instead, his sweet, round eyes instantly crinkled at the corners, and a warm, lazy grin spread across his face, his silver lip piercing catching the morning light.

He greeted you in a sweet, entirely normal manner.

"Morning, sleepypants," he murmured, his voice a low, gravelly morning rumble that vibrated pleasantly in the quiet air. He set the mug down and gestured toward the espresso machine on the counter. "Coffee?"

You sit down awkwardly on one of the high barstools at the marble kitchen island, your hands folded in your lap as you nod your head. "Yes, please. Black is fine."

The silence stretches between you for a bit, heavy and thick on your end, though Jeongguk seems entirely unbothered as he presses a button on the espresso machine. The low whirring of the grinder fills the space, and the rich, dark scent of coffee begins to bloom in the air. Your mind is still a frantic mess of questions, the sheer weight of his shirtless torso in the bright morning light not helping your ability to think straight.

Unable to take the suspense any longer, you clear your throat. "Koo?"

He hums in response, not turning around just yet as he watches the dark liquid drip into the mugs, patiently waiting for you to continue.

You swallow hard, tracing a invisible line on the marble counter. "Do you... do you remember last night?"

Jeongguk freezes for a split second, his shoulders tensing just a fraction before he slowly turns around to face you. He leans back against the counter, crossing his tattooed arm over his bare chest, a totally blank, deadpan expression washing over his features.

"Last night?" he repeats, blinking his eyes with exaggerated confusion. He tilts his head, looking down at his own bare torso and then back up at you. "Wait... what year is it?"

You instantly catch onto the stupid joke, a rush of exasperated relief flooding your chest. You reach out, grabbing a random crumpled tissue you found sitting on the edge of the counter, and throw it straight at his face.

He ducks, but it clips his shoulder anyway. Jeongguk bursts into a loud, boxing-glove laugh, his eyes crinkling into those familiar, endearing crescents as the heavy tension in the room instantly evaporates.

"Yes," he says, his laughter dying down into a soft, knowing smile as he holds your gaze, his voice dropping back into that low morning cadence. "I remember last night, Y/N."

Your stomach drops straight through the floor. The relief you felt a second ago evaporates, replaced by a sudden, choking wave of heat that rises all the way to your face. You fumble with your words, your tongue feeling thick and clumsy as you try to form a coherent sentence.

"You—you remember?" you stammer, your hands nervously gripping the edge of the marble counter. "Then... what you said on the couch. Before you fell asleep. Did you... I mean, did you actually mean it?"

Jeongguk stays quiet for a while. The playful morning light suddenly feels too bright, too exposing. He doesn't move from where he’s leaning against the counter, but the easy grin vanishes from his face. He looks down at his feet, his throat bobbing as he swallows hard, his chest expanding with a deep, deliberate breath.

When he finally lifts his head, his eyes are dead serious, devoid of any tequila-induced haze.

"Yes," he says, his voice a low, steady vibration. "I meant it."

You blink, your chest tightening so fast it hurts. "What... what did you mean, Jeongguk? Exactly?"

"I meant what I meant," he mutters, his jaw clenching as he shifts his weight. He crosses his arms tighter over his bare chest, a defensive instinct kicking in as he tries to maintain his footing. He’s trying to stay casual, trying to play the enigmatic card, but the slight twitch in his silver lip piercing gives him away.

"Yes, but what does it mean?" you push, your voice cracking slightly out of frustration. You lean forward on the barstool, completely done with the riddles. "You don't get to drop a bomb like that, tell me everyone else comes short in comparison to me, and then just say 'I meant what I meant.' What does that mean for us, Jeongguk? What are you actually saying?"

Jeongguk stares at you, the silence stretching out between you like a taut wire. You can practically hear the furious looping in his head, the terrifying friction between the decade of friendship holding him back and the raw, suffocating desire to just stop hiding.

"It means exactly what you think it means, Y/N," he says defensively, his voice rising a fraction. "Why do I have to spell it out?"

"Because you were drunk!" you snap back, your own walls going up because you're terrified of getting your hopes destroyed. "Because people say crazy things when they've had six shots of tequila! You told me I'm the standard for your love life. Do you have any idea how insane that is to hear from your best friend?"

That's the breaking point.

Jeongguk cracks. The stubborn, defensive posture completely shatters, his arms dropping to his sides as he takes a sudden, aggressive step forward, closing the distance between the counter and your stool. He looms over you, his bare chest heaving, his eyes wide and burning with a desperate, chaotic intensity.

"It's not insane!" he bursts out, his voice cracking with a raw, emotional force that echoes through the quiet kitchen. He grips the edge of the marble island right next to your thighs, leaning down until his face is just inches from yours, entirely undone. "It's not the tequila, Y/N! I've been sober for months on tour and I thought about it every single day. Every girl I look at, every person I talk to, I'm just looking for you in them. I'm tired of pretending I don't. I'm tired of the mystery. I meant that I’m in love with you, okay? I’ve been in love with you for years!"

"You're crazy!" you snap back, the pure panic in your chest bubbling over into anger as you push yourself back against the barstool. "You are completely crazy, Jeongguk! You can’t just wake up one day and decide to ruin a ten-year friendship because you had a breakthrough on tour! You don't just get to tear down everything we built because you feel like it!"

He flinches as if you physically struck him. The fierce, looming intensity drains from his posture in an instant, leaving him looking raw and incredibly small despite his broad frame. His eyes turn visibly sad, a thick, glossy sheen coating them under the bright kitchen lights. His jaw tightens, his silver lip piercing trembling just a fraction before a bitter, hurt laugh leaves his throat.

"Well, excuse the fuck out of me if I have feelings," he spits out, his voice cracking with a dangerous mix of anger and absolute rejection. He pulls his hands off the marble counter and takes a step back, wrapping his arms tightly around his torso again, as if trying to shield his chest from you. "Excuse me for actually trusting my best friend enough to be honest. I didn't decide to feel this way, Y/N."

"It’s not even about that!" you yell back, your hands flying into the air out of sheer frustration. You slide off the barstool, finally standing on your own two feet so you don't have to look up at him. "Jeongguk, think for one second! Could you actually afford to lose me if a relationship goes south? If we do this, if we cross that line and it blows up in our faces, we don't get to go back to being friends. I'm gone. You're gone. Everything is ruined. Can you honestly afford that?"

At your words, his entire demeanor shifts from heartbroken to super pissy and defensive, the vulnerability of his ego being bruised making him lash out.

"It wouldn't go south!" he barks, his chest heaving as he glares down at you, his face flushing a furious, hurt red. "Why are you already deciding we're going to fail? And you know what? It doesn't even matter because you’re standing here acting like you have the high moral ground! Like you're the only one who cares about our friendship and I'm just some reckless idiot trying to break it!"

"I don’t have a moral ground!" you shout, stepping right into his space, your voice matching his volume. "I’m just trying to be smart about this! Someone has to be, because you're clearly letting your emotions run completely wild right now!"

"Why should you be smart?!" Jeongguk erupts, his frustration completely breaking through the ceiling. He throws his hands up, the silver rings on his fingers flashing aggressively in the morning sun. He steps so close you can feel the radiating, shirtless heat of his skin, his breath hitting your face in short, ragged gasps. He looks down at you, his eyes searching your face with a suffocating anger. "Why do you always have to be the logical one? Tell me the truth, Y/N—have you ever even thought about me that way? Even once? Or am I just the only idiot who’s been suffocating in this for years?"

"Of course I’ve thought about you that way!" you burst out, the truth ripping through your throat before you could even try to stop it. "Every single day for the last ten years, Jeongguk! I have been suffocating right next to you, watching you date other people, watching you become a global superstar, completely terrified that if I said a word, I’d lose you forever!"

Jeongguk completely freezes. The furious, pissy retort dies right on his tongue, his mouth hanging open slightly as his chest heaves. His round eyes widen, the glossy unshed tears making them look impossibly huge as he processes your words.

"You..." he stammers, his voice becoming a breathless, vulnerable whisper. "You have?"

"Yes! But you’re sitting here acting like it’s so simple," you say, your voice trembling with an overwhelming mix of anger, frustration, and a decade's worth of built-up tension. You take a step closer, your eyes locking onto his parted lips, then tracing up to the raw, completely undone expression on his face. He looks so helpless, so utterly desperate for your touch, standing there shirtless in the bright morning light.

You need him to understand. You need to prove to him that this isn't just some casual, easy dynamic he can play with. You want to prove a point—to show him exactly what he's playing with, exactly how dangerous this boundary truly is.

Before he can utter another word, you reach out, your fingers gripping the soft fabric of his sweatpants at his hip to pull him in, and you slam your lips against his.

Jeongguk lets out a sharp, muffled gasp into your mouth, his entire body jolting at the sudden impact. But the hesitation lasts for less than a second. The moment he realizes you are actually kissing him, he completely shatters. A low, desperate groan rumbles deep in his chest, and his tattooed hands flies to your waist, his fingers digging into your skin with a terrifying, suffocating hunger.

The kiss is chaotic, fierce, and overflowing with ten years of unspoken agony. You pour everything into it—all the logic, all the smart choices, all the fear of losing him—crushing your lips against his until your teeth click. He tastes like the rich espresso he just brewed and the sharp, lingering heat of his own desperation. He follows your lead completely, surrendering to the dominance you admitted to just hours before, letting you call every single shot as he whimpers against your mouth, his frame trembling beneath your hands.

When you finally pull back, your chest heaving, your lips swollen and tingling, you try to step away to establish the boundary again. "See?" you breathe out, your voice shaky as you stare at his dark, completely blown-out pupils. "That is what we lose if—"

"No," Jeongguk whines instantly, the sudden loss of your lips making him sound incredibly small and pathetic. His hands tighten on your waist, physically yanking you right back against his bare, warm chest. His nose brushes against yours, his breath hot and ragged. "No, Y/N. Please. Just one more. One more."

"Jeongguk, I'm trying to make a point—"

"I don't care about the point," he groans, his voice turning super whiny, his bottom lip pushing out in a desperate, pouty expression that completely contrasts his heavily tattooed, muscular frame. He leans his forehead against yours, his eyes fluttering shut as he practically begs. "Just one more kiss. Please. Y/N. One more, and then I’ll listen to the logical stuff. Just one more."

You melt away entirely under the pathetic, desperate drag of his voice. Every ounce of your hard-earned logic completely liquefies, dripping away into the space between your pounding hearts as you slide your hands up his radiating chest to cup the back of his neck, pulling him right back down to you.

The moment your lips meet again, Jeongguk kisses you like it’s the only thing he was ever put on this earth to do.

It is an agonizingly deep, consuming kiss that destroys any remaining illusion of your platonic past. He devours you, his plush lips parting with a fierce, wet desperation that immediately slicks your skin. He uses his tongue with a heavy, deliberate stroke, sweeping into your mouth to claim you entirely, tasting intensely of the bitter espresso and the sweet, clean mint from earlier. Every tilt of his head is a calculated shift to press deeper, his silver lip piercing sliding hot and sharp against your bottom lip, an intoxicating friction that sends a jolt of pure electricity straight to your core.

You let out a helpless, broken moan right into his mouth, the sound vibrating against his teeth.

The small noise completely undoes him. Jeongguk’s hands abandon your waist to roam frantically all over you, his palms hot and heavy as they map out your body. He slides his hands down the curve of your back, his blunt fingernails digging into your clothes, before lifting up to cup your jaw, his tattooed thumb firmly pressing against your pulse point to hold you perfectly still for his assault. His chest presses flush against you, the hard, sculpted lines of his abdomen crushing into your frame until you can feel the frantic, booming rhythm of his heart matching your own.

He is entirely consumed, a slave to the sudden shift in your dynamic.

He briefly breaks the kiss, his lips only parting a fraction of an inch from yours, leaving a string of wet, heavy breaths between you. His glossy eyes flutter open, looking at you with a gaze so completely wrecked and swimming with desire that it makes your knees buckle. He whines against your skin, a high, desperate sound cutting through his deep morning rasp as his forehead drops heavily against yours.

"I'm gonna make you feel good," he pleads, his breath hot and ragged against your swollen mouth as his hands slide back down to desperately grip your hips. "Please, Y/N... please let me make you feel good. Just let me. Please."

You don’t reply right away, your mind completely fracturing into a thousand pieces as you stand frozen in his kitchen. Your thoughts pull you in every direction, desperately trying to analyze the wreckage of the last five minutes.

The damage is done. You already kissed him—not just a gentle slip of the lips, but a fierce, devastating confession of a kiss that blew every single one of your carefully constructed boundaries right out the door. The sacred line of the friendship hasn't just been crossed; it’s been entirely incinerated.

As you stare down at his flushed face, a dark, heavy thought slips into your mind, taking root before your logic can tear it down: Would it really be so bad to just go through with it?

If everything is already broken, if the mystery is gone, why keep fighting the very thing that’s been suffocating you both for a decade? You look at his chest rising and falling in sharp, ragged gasps, his skin radiating a maddening heat that pulls you in like gravity.

Before a single word can tumble past your swollen lips, Jeongguk completely unravels. His knees give out, hitting the hardwood floor with a soft thud as he drops down right in front of you.

The global superstar, the man who fills stadiums worldwide, is entirely brought to his knees, looking up at you with huge, glassy, pleading eyes. He looks so sweet, so raw, and completely submissive to whatever you decide next.

"Please," he whimpers, the word spilling out of him like a broken prayer. "Please, Y/N."

He doesn't wait for your permission. His hands slide up the back of your legs, his palms scalding hot through the fabric of your clothes as he pulls your hips closer to his face. He buries his face against you, his warm forehead pressing firmly against your lower stomach as a ragged breath hitches in his throat.

"Let me make you feel good," he begs into your clothes, his voice dropping into a desperate, deep vibration that resonates straight through your skin. "Just let me do this for you. Please."

Then, his plush lips press against your clothed thighs.

He kisses you right through the fabric, his mouth hot and damp, leaving heavy, branding presses of his lips along the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. He nuzzles his face deeper against your legs, whining softly when you don't immediately push him away. The absolute friction of his silver lip piercing catching against the material, combined with the desperate, worshipful way his hands tighten on the back of your thighs, makes your breath hitch sharply in your throat. Your hands fly to his bare shoulders just to keep yourself steady, your fingers digging into his smooth, firm skin as the room tilts on its axis.

Your fingers sink deeper into the smooth muscle of his bare shoulders as the sheer weight of his worship pulls you under. The internal debate, the frantic logic, the fear of what happens when the dust settles—it all completely evaporates.

"Okay," you finally whisper, the single word cutting through his desperate, ragged breaths. "Okay, Jeongguk. Do it."

The permission hits him like an electric shock. He doesn't waste a single second, his hands moving with an frantic, desperate urgency. He grips the waistband of your pants and underwear together, his knuckles brushing against your skin as he tugs them down your legs in a breathless hurry. You kick out of them, your feet hitting the cool hardwood floor, leaving you completely exposed to him in the middle of the bright kitchen.

When he leans his head back in, you let out a sharp, involuntary hiss as the hot, concentrated burst of his breath hits your sensitive pubic area.

But he doesn't touch you yet. Jeongguk just stays frozen on his knees, his hands still tightly gripping the back of your thighs to anchor you in place. He’s just looking. His sweet eyes are wide and completely dark with a devastating mixture of awe and pure hunger. His chest heaves, his silver lip piercing glinting as his lips part slightly, his gaze completely tracing every inch of you as if he’s memorizing a holy text.

The intense, unblinking weight of his stare makes you shift your weight, a sudden spike of heat rushing to your face. "Jeongguk," you breathe out, your voice trembling. "What... what are you doing?"

"I need more room," he rasps, his voice dropping into a thick, desperate growl.

Before you can even process the words, his large hands slide under your thighs and around your back. In one swift, effortless motion, he lifts you completely off the ground. You let out a small gasp, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck as he carries you out of the kitchen. He moves with a singular, fierce focus, and in a matter of seconds, you’re in his bedroom.

He lays you down onto the mattress, and you find yourself completely sprawled across the dark, silk sheets of his bed, the heavy clean cotton scent of him enveloping you entirely.

Jeongguk doesn't even let you catch your breath. He crawls up onto the mattress immediately, his large, heavy body looming over yours for a fraction of a second before he slides right back down between your thighs. He hooks your knees over his shoulders, pinning you open, and buries his face directly between your legs.

The first touch of his tongue is a wet, heavy stroke that makes your entire body arches off the bed. He eats you out like it’s a form of salvation, his mouth hot, wide, and utterly ravenous against your wet skin. He uses his tongue with a frantic, consuming rhythm, lapping at you with deep, deliberate strokes that pull a loud, undone moan right from your throat. The slick, wet sounds of his mouth against you echo in the quiet room, completely destroying any lingering sanity.

Even as he devours you, the desperate, pleading energy from the kitchen doesn't leave him. Every time you twist your fingers into his damp, dark hair to pull him closer, a muffled, high whine breaks from his throat, vibrating directly against your clit. He nuzzles his face deeper into your heat, his silver lip piercing sliding sharp and intoxicating against your most sensitive spots, making you sob his name into the empty air.

"Please," he whimpers against your wet flesh, breaking his rhythm for only a split second to breathe your name, his voice cracked and completely wrecked. His hands grip your hips so tightly his knuckles turn white, silently begging you to hold him there, to let him keep drowning in you. "Please tell me it's good. Tell me you like it, Y/N. Just let me stay right here."

You can only cry out in response, your hips instinctively rolling into his mouth as his tongue darts back inside, deeper and more desperate than before, completely surrendering his entire existence to the rhythm of your pleasure.

The sound of his name ripping from your throat sends a visible shiver straight through his broad, shirtless frame. Hearing how undone you are only makes him more desperate, his tongue working with a frantic, wet rhythm that has your hips rolling blindly into his face.

"You're so good, Koo," you gasp out, your knuckles turning white as you fist your fingers into his damp, dark hair, pressing him closer. "Ah—yes, right there. You're making me feel so good. So good..."

Jeongguk lets out a muffled, high whine directly against your core, the high-pitched, needy sound vibrating straight through you. The praise completely undoes him. He sucks a hard, bruising path up your inner lip, his silver piercing scraping perfectly against your most sensitive flesh, pulling a loud, broken sob from your lungs. He is utterly buried in you, his hands gripping the undersides of your thighs so tightly that his bicep muscles bulge under his smooth, tattooed skin. He nuzzles deeper, lapping at your slick heat with a ravenous, worshipful speed, swallowing your whimpers like they are the only thing keeping him alive.

The friction is too much. The intense, deep heat building in your lower stomach is expanding so fast it feels dangerous, blinding you to everything else in the room. You are getting so entirely into it, the overwhelming pleasure clouding your logic until you can't breathe, can't think, can't handle the agonizingly slow burn of just his mouth anymore.

You want him. You want all of him.

With a breathless cry, you pull your hands out of his hair and adjust the position you're in, your palms sliding down his broad chest, past his tensed abs, to the low waistband of his grey sweatpants. Jeongguk senses the shift immediately, his head lifting, his lips glistening, dark hair falling wildly over his wide, blown-out eyes as he looks up at you with a breathless, questioning whimper.

You don't say a word. You simply hook your fingers into the cotton of his sweats and underwear, tugging them down past his hips in one swift, demanding motion.

His cock springs free, thick, heavy, and leaking a bead of pre-cum that glints in the bedroom light. It twitches against his lower stomach, fully erect and radiating a maddening heat. Jeongguk lets out a raw, hitched breath, his hands trembling on your mattress as he hovers over you, completely exposed, his chest heaving as he waits in agonizing suspense for what you're going to do to him next.

You wrap your fingers firmly around the thick, pulsing base of his shaft, the skin scalding hot against your palm. Jeongguk lets out a shaky, pathetic gasp the moment your hand closes around him, his hips twitching forward instinctively. Without giving him a second to recover, you lean forward, parting your lips, and slide the plush, leaking head of his cock straight into your mouth.

He completely loses his mind.

A loud, ragged moan rips from his throat, echoing sharply in the quiet bedroom. You swirl your tongue around the sensitive ridge, catching the slick pre-cum, before sinking your mouth lower, drawing him deeper down your throat. The rich, clean scent of him mixes with the musk of his arousal, entirely consuming your senses. You use your tongue to stroke the sensitive underside of his shaft, your lips wrapping tight around him to create a fierce, suffocating vacuum as you bob your head in a steady, demanding rhythm.

He throws his head back, hair spilling over his forehead as a continuous string of broken groans and breathless whimpers spills from his parted lips. He doesn't try to hold back, his chest heaving as he watches you through hooded, blown-out eyes, his silver piercing catching the light every time his jaw slacks.

"Ah, God, Y/N," he pants, his voice cracking with pure, unadulterated worship. His large, tattooed hand flies to your hair, but he doesn't push you down—he just cradles your head with a trembling, gentle grip, completely submissive to your pace. "You're so perfect. Look at you... fucking hell, you're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. Please, you're destroying me."

The praises are heavy, thick with a devotion that makes your chest ache. He’s praising you in a way you've never been praised before, treating your mouth like a sanctuary, completely unbothered by his own ego. You take him deeper, your thumb rubbing over his balls, and the combination makes his hips roll blindly against your lips, a low, desperate whine vibrating in his chest.

The edge is getting too sharp for him. The friction of your wet mouth and the agonizingly sweet torture of the rhythm has him shaking from head to toe. His fingers tighten in your hair, his breath coming in short, panicked gasps as he feels himself reaching a dangerous point of no return.

He suddenly pulls back just enough to slip his cock from your lips, a heavy string of saliva connecting you for a fraction of a second. Jeongguk hovers over you on his knees, his entire body trembling, his face flushed a dark, beautiful red as he looks down at your wet, swollen lips.

"I can't—I can't just take," he begs, his voice breaking completely as he drops his forehead against your chest, his chest heaving against your skin. He is entirely undone, crying out as his hands slide down to grip your hips, physically pulling you back down onto the mattress. He positions himself right between your soaked, aching thighs, the heavy head of his cock rubbing torturously against your wet core. "Please, Y/N. I need to be inside you. Please let me come home. Please let me inside."

A dark, heady rush of power floods your veins as you look down at him. Seeing the man who fills stadiums worldwide reduced to a trembling, pleading mess right under you is intoxicating. You smirk against the flushed skin, your fingers sliding up his damp neck to tilt his face up.

"Put it on then, Koo," you murmur.

You say your consent, and the word acts like a green light. Jeongguk scrambles, blindly fishing a condom from the nightstand drawer—you aren't even paying attention to where he gets it from, your eyes locked onto the sharp, beautiful lines of his tensed muscles as he tears the foil open with his teeth.

His hands are shaking so violently it takes him two tries to roll the latex down his thick, pulsing length.

The moment he’s protected, he doesn't wait. He lines the wet, heavy head of his cock against your slick opening and sinks into you in one deep, agonizingly slow push.

A loud, broken sob rips from your throat as he fills you completely, stretching you out until you're entirely consumed by the sheer size of him. Jeongguk lets out a guttural, trembling groan into the crook of your neck, his large frame collapsing over yours, his full, shirtless weight pinning you into the dark silk sheets.

"Ah, God, Y/N... you're so tight, you're so warm," he whimpers, his voice completely wrecked as he begins to move.

The friction is instant and overwhelming. Jeongguk doesn't fuck you with the practiced, cocky rhythm of a man in control; he fucks you with a desperate, frantic hunger, his hips snapping forward in deep, heavy thrusts that rock the entire bed. He is completely starved for you, his tattooed hand sliding under your lower back to lift your hips higher, taking every single inch you have to offer. The wet, slapping sound of his skin hitting yours echoes in the quiet bedroom, mixed with his continuous, vocal praises.

He’s riding the absolute edge from the very first stroke, the decade of built-up desire making him impossibly sensitive. His breath comes in short, panicked gasps against your ear, his silver lip piercing grazing your pulse point as his pace turns frantic, unhinged.

"I'm gonna—Y/N, I'm close, I can't hold it," he cries out, his voice cracking. He gives three more deep, blind thrusts, his entire body locking up as a low, ragged scream tears from his lungs. He spasms against you, his cock twitching violently inside your walls as he finishes first, spilling himself entirely into the condom.

But he doesn't stop.

Even as his climax ripples through him, leaving him completely overstimulated and trembling, he refuses to pull out. He knows you haven't crossed the line yet. With his jaw clenched and his eyes swimming with tears from the sheer, burning sensitivity of his post-nut state, Jeongguk forces his hips to keep moving.

He whimpers miserably with every single stroke, the friction against his overstimulated skin clearly driving him crazy, but he keeps pushing inside you anyway.

"I've got you," he pants, a high, needy whine breaking from his lips as he drags his body up and down yours, his movements slower now, heavier, grinding his pelvis right against your clit with agonizing precision. "I'm not stopping... please, baby, come for me. Let me feel you clamp down on me. Please."

The sight of him pushing through his own overstimulation just to please you completely shatters whatever restraint you have left. Your internal walls collapse. Your hips begin to roll frantically against his, your toes curling into the silk sheets as the tight coil in your lower stomach snaps.

You scream his name as a violent, crushing orgasm ripples through your body. Your internal muscles clamp down tightly around his thick shaft, milking him through the latex. Jeongguk lets out a loud, pathetic whimper at the tight squeeze, his forehead dropping heavily onto your shoulder as he rides out the wave of your climax with you, completely spent, completely yours.

He collapses right besides you, his massive, shirtless frame molding perfectly against you as he pulls you into his chest. Both of your chests are heaving in the quiet room, the only sound the ragged asymmetry of your breathing slowing down. Jeongguk nuzzles his face into your hair, tracing his plush, swollen lips along your jawline before kissing you tenderly on the cheek—a soft, lingering pressure that feels entirely detached from the frantic, consuming chaos of just moments ago.

You lie there, the cool air of the bedroom hitting your bare skin where his body isn't pinning you down. The reality of what just happened begins to settle into your bones, the heavy fog of pleasure lifting to reveal the massive, uncharted territory you’ve both just stepped into.

"Jeongguk," you breathe out, your voice still a little raspy. You turn your head slightly, trying to look at him. "We should talk about it. About... us. What this means."

He lets out a soft, tired groan, burying his face deeper into your neck. His large, tattooed arm wraps securely around your waist, pulling you so close there isn't a single millimeter of space left between you.

"We will," he promises, his low rumble vibrating right against your skin. "I promise we’ll talk about everything you want. Just... please let me enjoy this moment for a second. Let me just hold you."

You agree, nodding your head slightly against his chest, but you are visibly lost in your thoughts. Your eyes trace the unfamiliar contours of his bedroom, the dark silk sheets, the heavy shadows on the wall. The anxiety hasn't completely vanished, it's just waiting on the periphery, whispering questions about tomorrow, about his career, about the fragile ten-year foundation you just risked.

As if sensing the sudden shift in your energy, Jeongguk shifts. He props himself up on one elbow, hovering over you just enough to look down into your face. His eyes are incredibly soft, completely clear of the tequila from last night and the blinding lust from minutes ago. He reaches up, his gentle thumb tracing your cheekbone, wiping away a stray bead of sweat.

"Hey," he murmurs, his piercing catching the soft light. He looks at you with an unwavering certainty that makes your heart skip a beat. "I’m going to make sure nothing goes south. I promise you. I love you, Y/N."

Hearing the words spoken so clearly, without a drop of alcohol or adrenaline to hide behind, makes the last of your defenses crumble.

"I love you too," you whisper back.

He smiles—a genuine, boyish grin that reminds you exactly of the teenager you met a decade ago—and pulls you back down against him. As you nuzzle your nose deep into the warm, clean-scented crook of his neck, listening to the steady, unshakeable beat of his heart beneath your cheek, the frantic thoughts in your mind finally begin to quiet down.

Maybe the logic didn't matter. Maybe, against all odds, it really was going to be okay.

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