iboozi

[iboozi]

felt like a sixth wheel without my subtitles

spanning from la to incheon airport, 3 phones, 2 livestream platforms, and 1 new jungkook instagram - the messiest set of bts livestreams

[iboozi]

1000 notes?? on everybody here wants you! i’m so thankful for everyone who read this and enjoyed it 🪩💗💗

as a little thankyou, you can choose which song I write about next!!

let me know if you’d want to see other members!!

[iboozi]

Songs of Us | Don't Judge Me | jjk

ᡣ𐭩 pairing: bf! jeongguk / gf! reader (established relationship)

ᡣ𐭩 summary: How can you let someone in, if you're too afraid of being judged?

ᡣ𐭩 warnings: angst? oral sex (f.receiving)

ᡣ𐭩 w/c: 5.6k

A/N: Sorry for dipping again... but I got really sick for a bit and couldn't really write. But here this is! As requested by anon. I know this isn't as long as my previous one but I hope you still enjoy it nonetheless!! I really tried to tap into the characters emotions, but alas I have not experienced this so I'm not an expert... (kinda sad lol). I tried to follow the vibe of the song (Don't judge me - Chris Brown) without directly referring to it and I hope it translated well! Also I had the random thought that Jeongguk is so Percy Jackson coded. Idk. Kinda?What do you think?

p.s I do not condone the actions of Chris Brown and will never support any acts that he has committed.

-Zoobi out 🪩

masterlist

Don’t judge me

They say you just know when you’ve found your other half. There’s a click that just snaps you into place and before you know it, years have passed and you’re looking back at when it all started.

You've been with Jeongguk for almost a year now. Nearly three hundred and sixty-five days. Eight thousand seven hundred and sixty hours. You find a sense of comfort in him that you once deprived yourself of for so long—something that used to seem like a laughable dream. The love he gives is patient, his touch, so gentle. He’s aware of the scars you carry beneath the dimpled smiles you give the world. But never has he once pushed you to force out the words, force out the pain that lingers in the back of your mind. It seems too good to be true, a dream curled up in the bittersweet shadow of a nightmare, aching to be thrown into the light.

You thought you knew him. You thought he knew you. But despite the countless nights you’d lay under the sheets together, whispering words of comfort—it still wasn’t enough to know him like you thought you did.

It’s a simple mistake, honestly. 

Taehyung hadn’t meant to, but everyone knew — even Jeongguk’s mum— that when he had even the smallest sip of alcohol, any secrets you once surrendered to him would be released into the open.

“It’s just so crazy that you almost married Hana, man. Life’s kinda weird.”

The table falls into a short silence, interrupted by Jeongguk’s awkward cough and a sharp glare into the side of Taehyung’s head. The perpetrator doesn’t notice and continues rambling about relationships that he once had, sobbing at a particular heartfelt memory that everyone seemingly ignores, choosing to stare into their drinks instead.

You glance up from the table, gaze briefly meeting Jeongguk’s. His smile is tight—too tight to be comfortable— but it’s enough to cover the nervousness in his eyes. You’re not sure what it is—perhaps the way the conversation shifts so suddenly, or the way Taehyung’s voice just fades into a buzz, like whatever he’s saying is insignificant. You’re not sure you want to hear anything else come out of his mouth today anyway.

The air in the room seems to thicken as the dinner progresses. A thread of tension creeps down from the ceiling, dangling so tauntingly in front of you, waiting for you to take the bait. Waiting for you, or someone else to burst.

You know better than to ask. It’s not the time. Not the place. But the words are hanging so precariously from your tongue that all you can do is drink your cocktail in silence and hope your mouth doesn’t betray you and say something you’ll regret. 

The feel of Jeongguk’s stare is heavy on you. He knows you’re aching to ask him. But he’s not ready. He doesn’t want to revisit those memories, not when he has you. Not when he’s been free of the ache that plagued him for years and has been on a steady incline of tranquility with you. Instead he claps a firm hand on Taehyung’s shoulder and laughs that he should stop drinking.

Taehyung doesn’t listen. Just huffs at Jeongguk and lifts his glass up to his mouth, sipping slowly and staring at Jeongguk over the rim. Jeongguk sighs at Taehyung's refusal and presses his tongue into his cheek before looking away, eyebrows furrowed in displeasure. He nibbles on the ring adorning his lip, a trait you once admired him do—but after Taehyung’s words, your mind is too busy racing with doubts and uncertainties.

Everyone continues to offer you remorseful glances throughout the night, but you can’t get yourself to respond to them, to look into their eyes and show the wavering in your smile. Even your boyfriend attempts to subtly catch your eye, but you ignore it, and instead focus on not tearing up at the dinner table. It’d be too embarrassing to get hot-headed at the words of a drunk friend.

 But drunk words are sober thoughts, right?

Later, when you’re back from your night out, sitting on yours and Jeongguk’s sofa, you desperately try to ignore the gnawing feeling that’s decided to settle into your chest. You ignore how Taehyung’s little quip has grown roots and the only way you can get rid of them is if someone forcefully rips it out of you.

Jeongguk lingers by the window, back facing you as he stares out at the lights illuminating the city. He’s silent. Too still, and too quiet.

You feel the screws on the bridge connecting you to him loosen—the distance is small, but it could get worse if you don’t say something.

“Jeongguk?” you call softly, voice quavering more than you’d like it to.

He turns hesitantly, gaze finding yours. Time stretches and falters as you both simply look at eachother, the weight of unsaid words settling over you like a winter coat — but it’s unwelcoming, cold seeping through despite the thick layers you’ve both put on. 

You wonder if he can see the unshed tears in your eyes. Maybe he’ll mistake it as a trick of the light. You’ve used that excuse on him countless times, and even though he sighs when you say it, he’ll let you cry into his arms nonetheless. It’s another thing you admire about him. He never pushes. Never makes you say things you don’t want to.

But tonight, any traces of that are gone. He’s not saying anything, and the wait is killing you. 

“You’ve never mentioned Hana before,” you finally say, the question coming out like a whisper. It travels to him, a breeze filtering through the grates of a bridge. You’re not sure if it meets him, or diffuses out of the window he’s left open.

You watch his throat tighten, eyes flicking away before he’s even noticed that he’s doing so.

“It’s… she’s not important anymore, baby.”

Your heart jumps at his words, but you frown at the sensation. You’re not sure why he said it so quickly—so dismissively, but whatever it is, you don’t believe him.

“But it is,” you counter. You don’t mean for it to come out so sharp, but the words spill out like glass, shards scraping at your lips, leaving you with a grainy feeling on your tongue. “I thought we told each other everything. I thought we knew each other.”

Jeongguk’s face falls, a tenderness entering his gaze, and for a slight moment, he looks regretful— at you or because you found out?

“It wasn’t like that. I didn’t mean to hide anything from you. I just… didn’t think it was something you wanted to know about.”

“But it’s a part of you,” you whisper, standing up to reach for him. You falter as he takes a small step back. “...Jeongguk?”

There’s hesitation in his eyes, like he’s trying to choose his words carefully. He wants to say something, you can see it, but it’s almost like his memories are holding him back.

You breathe shakily—Jeongguk just rejected me— and collect your thoughts. “I-If we’re going to make a future, I need to understand your past. Do you think you could let me in?”

His eyes close slowly, lashes kissing the rounds of his cheeks as he exhales heavily through his nose. His arms slump to his sides, fingers twitching with tension that he hasn’t figured out how to release yet.

“Not… not today,” he murmurs. He turns away from you, lost in his head, lost in the lights of the city outside the window.

You nod, swallowing the tight knot forming in your throat. The words sting and you can’t keep the words from festering in your chest. It’s the first time Jeongguk hasn’t jumped in to talk with you.

 It’s new with him, but it’s something you’re all too familiar with from before.

The silence between you elongates and curls around you, thick and suffocating. Your thoughts race, chasing after something, anything that could justify Jeongguk’s cold shoulder.

And yet, it feels like you’re grabbing onto a dream, one that's sliding out of your hands too fast. The screws have loosened once more, and they threaten to fall out of position, bringing warning to a crumbling bridge.

This can’t be fixed. Not tonight. Not at this moment.

Not when Jeongguk has given you a faint goodnight and retires to his bed without giving you a kiss. A kiss that’s an established routine, marking the end of the night, welcoming a new day with open arms. Even though it’s one night, one hair out of place… it feels monumental.

You’re not used to this version of Jeongguk. Someone who’s distant. Guarded. He’s always been your steady, your source of warmth, but now it feels like he’s nudged you out the door with nothing on your back.

You sit back down on the sofa and let your head drop against a cushion, ceiling swimming above in soft waves. The pit in your chest grows heavier, and you bring your knees up to your chest, arms wrapping around yourself the way his should have.

You fight the urge to follow him. To push the door leading to your shared room open. To force him to talk.

But there’s a part of you—shaped by your past— that tells you to stay put. Sit still and not be a burden. To stop being too much.

You end up lying on the couch all night, tear tracks drying on your cheeks from the wind of the open window, body curled in fetal position in quiet surrender.

You jolt awake to the sound of gentle shuffling. There’s a blue blanket—Jeongguk’s blanket— draped over your shoulders, the soft smell of clean sheets invading your nose. The kitchen light is on, a dim golden hue casting across the apartment.

Your heart pounds in your chest.

Jeongguk.

You sit up, back aching from the awkward sleeping position and rush over to where he is.

He’s moving around in the kitchen like nothing happened. You falter at his movements, and wonder if the conversation —if it could even be called that— from last night was real or just a figment of your imagination. A nightmare not plausible because the idea is so far-fetched.

But you know it was real. It’s real in the way Jeongguk’s smile is tight—barely there— and the way he offers a quiet ‘Good morning’. Nothing like the big hugs he’d give you, or the way he’d attack your faces with kisses, the faint smell of his coffee lingering on your (his) t-shirts.

Your face crumbles at his actions. You hate this. You hate how the silence is threatening. Hate how you can smell Jeongguk’s coffee but not on you. The smell lingers around him, and only him. A little bubble that you can’t break into, the walls an indestructible fortress that will only hurt you if you push. 

The silence of the morning continues. You slam your mug into the sink with a little more gusto—but Jeongguk doesn’t bat an eye. You drop a spoon, the clink reverberating through the room—yet again, Jeongguk is too occupied with his phone, lazily scrolling through the morning news.

“Do you still think about her?”. Your tone comes off more aggressive than you’d hoped. But this isn’t the time for pleasantries and gentle words. You want answers, and this is the only way Jeongguk may let up.

Jeongguk freezes mid scroll. His thumb hovers about the screen, but you can see the slight shake of it. You’ve caught him off guard, and the slight bob of his Adam's apple confirms the idea. 

He doesn’t answer straight away. Just blinks once. Twice. Looks at you before placing his phone down on the counter, the soft thud eliciting a wince from you.

“I already told you. She’s not important anymore.”

He’s calm. Too calm. This persona of his feels rehearsed. Like he’s been waiting for this question, waiting for the quiet to erupt. Maybe you didn’t catch him off guard. It seems the flames of this argument have only burnt you, whilst he stands in the corner, a fireproof

blanket secured around him.

You sigh and cross your arms, watching him carefully. “That doesn’t answer my question.”

“Do you still think about her?”

His jaw tightens. The slight movement is all the confirmation you need. It stings, but you push more.

“I don’t want to talk about this now.”

“Why not?” You’re inching closer to him, chest tight, voice rising. “Because I asked something you can’t answer? Because I’m confronting you with someone you never told me? Or maybe, she’s still in your life and you’ve been playing me a fool all along?”

His head snaps up at your last question. 

“Don’t ever say that. It’s only been you, and it will only be you.”

You scoff at him, running a hand through your hair.

“Well it sure as hell doesn’t feel like it.”

Jeongguk stands, breakfast long forgotten and his reticence filling the void of unsaid words.. Before you can say anything, he stalks back to the room and shuts the door with a resounding click.

You watch him leave. Watch him run away from the conversation for the second time. The screws of the bridge are dropping one by one and you just know that it’s a matter of time before you’re both submerged in water, severed from each other.

But you can’t fall. Not yet.

Sagging against the fridge, you bring your palms up to your eyes. Push against your face to relieve the pressure of the fight, but it does little to soothe the throbbing.

You need clarity. Closure. Something that Jeonggukk didn’t give you last night and certainly didn't give you just now.

So you call Taehyung.

He agrees to meet at a little café that you frequent with Jeongguk, but his voice carries hesitation—like he already knows this isn’t just about coffee.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” Taehyung murmurs, eyes flickering around before finding yours. “I messed up.”

You sit opposite him, hands tightly gripping your coffee. You can feel the condensation dripping down your fingers, but can’t find it in yourself to rid yourself of the feeling. 

You sigh. “I just… I want to understand. Who was Hana? What did she mean to him?”

But the frantic shake of his head leaves you confused.

“No.”

Your brows draw together. 

“No? What do you mean, ‘no’?”

“I mean I’m not the one you should be asking. This…this is Jeongguk’s story to tell.” He leans in, tone softening. “This isn’t the way to go about it. I know—god dammit— I know you’re hurting. But so is he. Talk to him. Don’t dig around through others.”

You don’t say anything. Because you know Taehyung is right. But you can’t help the knot in your chest tighten. All you wanted, all you needed was to feel included in Jeongguk’s life. You didn’t mind being second place to someone else, but you couldn’t be a placeholder for a woman he almost married.

Still, you push back your chair and whisper a quiet thank you, before leaving.

The sun is barely setting as you slink through the front door of your apartment. The amber hues spill through the windows, illuminating the walkway and spilling long shadows across

the living room floor. You’re exhausted—not from the trek back, but the progressive overload of what you carry.

Your coat hits the couch with a dull thud and before you can slip off your shoes, the door behind you swings open and hits the wall beside it.

“You went to Taehyung?”

Jeongguk’s voice slices through the air. It’s sharp. Accusing. You flinch and spin around, caught off guard. His keys are still in his hand, fingers turning white from the grip he has on it. 

He doesn’t look like himself. He looks frayed. Eyes blown wide, chest rising and falling in small bursts.

“How do you even kno—”

“He called me. Told me that you asked about Hana.”

There’s a hushed quality to his voice. Tight. Caged. He’s obviously holding back and every bit of you knows this conversation isn’t going to be quiet.

“Because you won’t tell me anything,” you snap, folding your arms tightly across your chest, shielding yourself from the possible venom of his words.

 He’s not a violent man. You know this. But still, luck has never been on your side.

 “What did you want me to do, Jeongguk? Pretend it wasn’t killing me? Act like her name didn’t feel like a punch in the gut?”

He scoffs. It’s bitter and humourless. 

“So going behind my back was the better option?”

“No. It wasn’t. But it was the only way I could find the truth you wouldn’t give.”

The room quivers with silence. But the ringing in your ears has never been louder.

Jeongguk stares at you, and for a moment it’s almost as if he’s looking right through you.

Then—

“You wanna know the truth?” he asks, jaw tight, ears blooming red from the contained words. “Fine. She almost became my everything. We… We were together for two  years. I thought I was going to marry her. I knew her family. She knew mine. Slept in my bed. Wore my clothes.  She said she loved me—” his voice cracks, and he catches himself, eyes squeezing shut. “And she—one day she just left.”

You swallow thickly, heart pounding. Finally, you were moving forward in this stagnant conversation. 

“Why?” you ask gently.

“Because I loved her too much,” he says, with a harsh laugh. “Because I wanted more. But she said I was suffocating her. I asked for too much, too fast. And I… I believed her. Made me think there was something wrong with me. That maybe— if I was just less, then she would’ve stayed.

His words resound against the walls. Heavy. Exposed.

“Jeongguk…” you whisper, taking a cautious step forward.

But he looks up at you, eyes red-rimmed, begging you to let him continue. 

“I didn’t tell you about her. Because I wanted to bury her. Bury the parts of me that she hurt. I didn't want that shadow to linger over me. Over us.”

You feel it now — his pain. Raw and untouched. A wound that he’s picked and picked at. But never let it heal.

Reaching a tentative hand out, you clasp his jaw in your hand, thumbing away the lone tear trailing down his face. 

“You think I haven’t been broken too?” your voice wavers. “Do you think I don’t know what it feels like to give every piece of me to someone? Someone who only saw me as something to own? You know how I left him, Jeongguk. I’ve told you— or at least the parts I could manage. But you don’t feel it. What it’s like to wake up and pretend your relationship is love when it feels more like a cage.”

You move closer to him, chest brushing his. You see him breathe in sharply.

“I had to make him think I cheated,” you rasp. “Not because I wanted to. But because he wouldn’t have let me go any other way. I made him believe I did something wrong, so he’d finally stop hurting me.”

You can’t stop the tears welling up in your eyes. If Jeongguk was going to be vulnerable with you, you also had to confront your past. 

“I took a gamble with my life. And I’m so glad that I did. Because then, I wouldn’t have met you.”

Jeongguk’s expression crumbles at your tears. It’s too much.

“I— I didn’t know,” he murmurs, voice hoarse.

“Because I didn’t tell you,” you say, lips trembling. “Because I was so afraid you’d judge me. Because even now, even after a year, I don’t know how to stop thinking I’m too much. I’m damaged. Too fragile. So if you’re still haunted by her, I just want you to know that I’m haunted too.”

The gap between you is long gone. The screws are back in place and the bridge is sturdy once more. Now what’s left is to make your way back to him.

Jeongguk pulls you into his arms like he’s terrified that you’ll disappear. Your fingers fist the soft fabric of his hoodie as he buries his face into the crook of your neck.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, again and again, voice muffled. “I’m so fucking sorry baby.”

You cling onto him, a lifeline that you’ll never let go.

“You don’t have to protect me from your past. I just want to be a part of it. All of it. All of you. Even the parts you’re scared to show.”

He pulls back—just enough to see your face— hands cradling your cheeks. He wipes at your tears, eyes red and glassy.

“Y—You’re not too much,” he says, voice shaking. “Never have been. You’re my Ha-na.”

You blink up at him, wondering if he was even present in the conversation you just had. 

“What?”

He offers you a watery smile. 

“Hana means one. You’re my one. The one and only for me. I don’t want anyone but you.”

Your breath catches in your throat. This is what you’ve needed. The confirmation. The thing you’ve craved your entire life. To be number one in someone's eyes.

He kisses you then—soft at first, like a question. Then deeper. Desperate. You kiss him back with the same ferocity, pouring all the pain and love and fear into the way your mouths meet. It’s messy. Imperfect. But it’s real.

When you finally pull apart, foreheads pressed together, you whisper to him, nose nudging against each others, 

“I don’t want perfect. I just want you.”

Jeongguk nods slowly, eyes still closed. “I’ve always been yours.”

Not everything was fixed. But the broken pieces are on the table now, no longer hiding in the dark. And for the first time, it feels like you’ll rebuild the bridge stronger. Together.

It’s a few weeks after the initial incident when it blows up again.

Jeongguk’s late when you hear the key turn in the door, followed by an uneven shuffle of soft footsteps stumbling through the hallway. Your heart drops a little before he even comes into view—because you know. You know the consequences that come with a night out—when there’s too much alcohol coursing through his veins, a little too much pain hiding beneath the surface.

You’re perched on the couch, blanked haphazardly tossed across your knee, laptop open but forgotten, the soft blue light illuminating the dark living room. You’ve been waiting for him to come home, and tried not to think about everything. But it’s hard, and now that you can hear him, that feeling bubbles up in your chest again.

You sit up, eyes moving to the doorway as he wobbles into view.

Jeongguk doesn’t look at you right away. HIs eyes are glazed, unfocused and he sways unsteadily on his feet, but he doesn’t collapse, doesn't lose his balance. His hair is messier than usual, his hoodie is wrinkled and the smell of alcohol lingers around him like a fog.

The last time he came home like this, things had been very different. You’d hoped it wouldn't come to this again so soon.

“Jeongguk,” you say, tone softer than intended, but your concern is palpable. “What happened?”

He finally looks up at you, and the emptiness in his eyes takes you by surprise. This isn’t the steady Jeongguk you’ve always relied on. Nor is he the confident and easygoing boyfriend who always knows how to make you laugh.

 No, this Jeongguk is fragile, broken, like the coils inside of him are unraveling, threatening to lash out at whoever is nearby.

And in this moment, you’re scared that it’ll be you.

“I—I fucked up again,” he mumbles, slurring his words. His eyes flicker to yours, but he quickly looks down, unable to maintain eye contact.

Your heart aches as you take in his appearance. 

“What do you mean?”

“I’m sorry,” he repeats. His voice cracks as he lifts his hand to bat at the tears in his eyes. It doesn't work. The tears continue to well up, threatening to spill over down his puffy cheeks. “I didn’t want to hurt you again. I never wanted to be this person. But I—fuck, I’ve been pushing you away. And I…I’ve been scared that you’re gonna leave me. That I somehow made you feel like you weren’t enough.”

Your breath hitches, a mix of relief and fear filling your chest. How long has he been holding onto this? The same pain, the same fear, buried so deeply, yet festering nonetheless. 

You make a move to stand up, but he backs away, shaking his head, chest tight at the thought of standing still.

“I…I don’t deserve you. Not after everything I’ve put you through. I just keep fucking up. I’ve hurt you and you've done nothing wrong. Even after I promised. I promised not to be that person anymore, but I still am. A fuck up.”

“Jeongguk,” you whisper. “You’re not that guy. You’re not. You’re—”

“But I am.” he interrupts roughly, voice strained with emotion. “I am that guy. The one that pushes you, trying to make up for the mistakes I made with her—trying to make you forget that I’m not perfect. Y-You deserve someone that knows how to love you right. Someone who loves you better.”

You can see the tremble in his shoulders, his body stiff with the pain of his words.

“I just wanted to make you happy. I wanted to be enough for you,” the break in his voice is the tipping point, a sob catching in his throat, and it’s like the dam has cracked, spilling everything onto you. He looks at you. Really looks at you. “Please don’t leave. Don’t leave me. Please baby, I’ll do anything.”

You’re unsure when it happened but he’s suddenly close to you, hands reaching out for you to steady him. He falls onto his knees in front of you and latches his arms around your waist, cries muffled by your lap.

“Jeongguk,” you say softly, fingers running through his hair, heart breaking all over again. “You don’t have to be perfect. You just have to be you.”

He chokes on a sob, his emotions too overwhelming to contain any longer. His arms grip tighter, afraid to let go, as he burrows himself deeper into the crevices of your legs.

You reach down and cup his face in your hands. You tilt his head up and he looks at you from the floor and sniffs.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry for hurting you. For even making you feel like you weren't enough. I’ll do anything to make it up to you.”

You silence him with a finger to his lips and run your fingers through his hair. Tracing your nails down his nose, over the ring in his lip and back up to the bar in his eyebrow, you whisper to him,

“You’re so beautiful Jeongguk. So beautiful. And it hurts to think that you’re not enough, because you are. You’re so much more than that.”

You know his words are genuine, his apology coming from a place of deep regret and love. You just hope that he can feel the same with your words.

He nods, tears still falling down his face, but his hold on you loosens slightly. “I don’t know how to fix this. But I want to try. I want to be the person you deserve.”

You smile through your tears and wipe away his with your thumb.

“You already are.”

He looks down, a little embarrassed by the fresh tears still on his cheeks, but you can see the sincerity in his eyes. You can feel the weight of his words through the way he caresses your waist. He breathes out shakily, then pulls away slightly, wiping his face before looking at you.

“You mean everything to me,” he says quietly. “I know I don’t say it enough, but I love you. I love you so fucking much that it hurts to breathe when I think of you. I swear I’ll do better. My past won’t ruin our future.”

You extend your hands, holding his face gently, and pull him into a kiss. It’s unhurried, soft and not rushed like the ones from before. There’s meaning behind this kiss— a promise between the two of you. His lips are warm, still salty from his tears that linger, but the kiss transcends beyond that—the unspoken words, the shared pain, and the desire to heal together.

When you pull back, Jeongguk chases after your lips but you stop him and just stare. Stare at the beauty in his eyes and the freckles dotting his face. He smiles sheepishly, embarrassed by your gaze, but at more ease now than he was when he walked through the door.

He rests back on his knees as his arms come up to your thighs.“I’ll make it up to you,” he says again, trailing kisses up your legs. He’s confident in his actions, the way he parts your legs and leans in. “One day at a time.”

He kisses your inner thighs, nipping at the fabric. You shiver at the touch and pause his movements.

“Jeongguk…you don’t have to do this,” you breathe out. But your actions betray your words as a hand reaches out to grip his hair.

He smiles up at you knowingly.

“Just relax baby,”

And he kisses your thigh again. Except this time, there’s a bit more desperation to it. His hands come up to the point where your legs meet your pelvis and he rubs slow circles.

 The little fuck. He knows exactly what he’s doing.

He presses one last kiss to your knee and leans his head forward, eyes on yours the entire time. You hold your breath, nervous at what he's going to do, but you can’t contain the moan when he eases his teeth around the zipper of your jeans. He slides it down slowly, teasingly, a hand coming up at the same time, loosening the button of your denim.

“Lift your hips, baby,” he murmurs, voice thick with need.

You comply, rising slightly with the help of Jeongguk’s hands, and he pulls your jeans and underwear over your thighs and down your legs. He discards them somewhere to the side, an issue to be dealt with tomorrow, as he pulls you to the edge of the sofa, hands holding your legs open.

His eyes rake down your body, from your eyes all the way to your glistening core, and you can’t help but shiver at the intensity.

“What?”

It’s the word you only whisper in moments like this. When the voices in your head cease and the only thing you can hear are your shaky breaths.

Jeongguk looks at your lips. 

“Nothing. I just love you.”

You roll your eyes at his cheesiness.

“Shut up. I love you more.”

He laughs. 

“Impossible.”

And his mouth is on you. You flinch at the sudden action, but quickly relax as he licks a stripe up to your clit. You let out a low groan as your head falls back against the cushions.

You feel him dig his knees deeper into the carpet and he sighs as nudges his nose up against you.

“Keep your eyes on me.” he rasps, the vibrations sending tingles up your spine. You look down at him as he traces his tongue against your clit. One lick. Two.

You fight the urge to fall back and keep a steady hand in his hair. Well, as steady as you can be.

Jeongguk wraps his lips around your clit, latching onto you with a force that has you seeing stars. You cry out and push his head further into your pussy, aching for more.

“Oh, fuck,” you moan. “Jeongguk, fuck,”

He hums against you and pulls away, catching a quick breath. Glances up at you with those devastatingly gorgeous doe eyes of his.

“More?” he asks.

You nod frantically, fingers still tangled in his hair. 

“Please. Don’t stop.”

Jeongguk doesn’t need to be told twice before he presses a kiss against you, tongue lapping up your slick. He delivers long, flat licks, fast and relentless, and slow teasing flicks, mixing up

his pace to keep you on the edge. He knows what you like. And he sure as hell is using it to his advantage.

You whimper something that he can’t quite make out and he hums in question.

“Use… Use your fingers,” you manage, head lolling back in pleasure.

And he doesn’t wait any longer. His middle finger pushes into you, raking against your insides. 

“So good, Jeongguk,” you whine, free hand gripping the sofa. “So fucking good.”

A second finger enters you, stretching out whatever his tongue didn’t. He moans with you as you tighten your hold on his hair once more. He knows you’re close, he knows the pent up frustration has you reaching your high faster than usual, but he doesn’t slow his pumping.

He nudges his nose up against you once more pressing featherlight kisses against your clit. But a swift kick to his back urges him deeper. He laughs, shoulders shaking by your legs and slips his tongue into you.

Your hands give out from underneath you and you fall against the sofa as Jeongguk rubs circles on your clit with his other hand. This is the final stretch, as your legs begin to tremble.

“That’s it baby,” he husks. “Come for me.”

Like the falling of a bridge, the feeling of his hands and lips pushes you over the edge. You whimper in pleasure and your legs shake as you push through your orgasm. Your grip stays tight on Jeongguk’s hair but he doesn’t complain. He wonders what you’ll say if he mentions that he kinda digs it.

He presses a few more kisses to your thighs and makes his way up to your lips. Lips covered in your arousal, the city lights covering his face in a shine, but he’s pretty. So pretty.

He squashes his lips against your in an obnoxious smack and you laugh as he pulls back.

“Have I mentioned that I love you?”

You bring a finger up to your chin and tap as you think.

“Hmmm… a few times. But it doesn't hurt to hear it again.”

He grins and pulls you into his arms. You squeal as his jeans brush your bare thighs.

“Baby, I’ll tell you whatever you want me to. I’m all yours.”

[iboozi]

thankyou thankyou!!! your support genuinely makes me bounce off the walls 🪩💗

J's Fan Fiction Recommendations

Hello lovelies! Here are just a few Fanfic Recommendations that I personally LOVE <3 Please enjoy!

THE ART OF PRETENDING - @ggukivrse ♡ jungkook x reader - ongoing | series ♡ smut, angst, fluff ♡ summary. when you and jungkook show up to your much anticipated graduation trip and realise neither of you had the guts to tell your friends about your recent break up, there’s only one thing you can do to keep the trip from falling apart: pretend.

JUST THIS ONCE | JUST THIS... TWICE? | THRID TIMES THE CHARM - @ggukivrse ♡ jungkook x reader - completed | mini-series ♡ smut, angst, fluff ♡ summary. when you complain to jungkook about your lack of action in the past year, you're not really asking for a solution. but when he casually offers to help, you just can't seem to bring yourself to say no. after all, what's the worst that could happen in hooking up just this once?

HENNA KISSES - @ggukivrse ♡ jungkook x reader - completed | drabble ♡ fluff ♡ summary. in which you're stuck waiting for your henna to dry, and jungkook takes full advantage to pepper you with kisses

CALL ME YOURS - @iboozi ♡ jungkook x reader - completed | mini-series ♡ fluff, angst ♡ summary: In which he calls you by his name, and you call him by yours.

HOLD ON TO ME - @kooklovee ♡ jungkook x reader | oneshot ♡ fluff, angst, smut ♡ summary. Your husband forgets your second anniversary. What starts as disappointment and heartbreak soon spirals into doubt- about your love, your marriage & whether he even sees you anymore. But when Jungkook realizes his mistake, he’s willing to do anything to prove that his love has never wavered.

MARRIED FOR SEVEN DAYS - @kooklovee ♡ jungkook x reader | oneshot ♡ fluff, smut ♡ summary. Matching rings and a joke—your boyfriend says you're married. What he didn’t expect is for you to play along the whole trip... And the more you pretend...the less it feels like a game.

NO MERCY - @dailynnt ♡ jungkook x reader - ongoing | mini-series ♡ smut, angst ♡ summary: You are the heir to a clan that has been deposed. His name is on her death list. To avenge your parents' deaths, you play a game with the devil in an expensive suit. Use it - that's your plan. But what do you do when the enemy knows your every move... and your every fear? But there is a fine line between calculation and passion. And in this world, where betrayal is an everyday currency, the most dangerous thing is to lose control.

ONE NIGHT AS THE PRICE OF A REQUEST - @dailynnt ♡ jungkook x reader - ongoing | series ♡ smut, angst, fluff ♡ summary: You hate your neighbor Jungkook, but you have to ask him to pretend to be your boyfriend at a party to get rid of your annoying boss. He agrees, but you don't even imagine what you'll have to pay him with. Everything goes according to plan until Jungkook reveals his true price during the dance: one night with him or your life in the neighborhood will be hell.

A SECRET SPUN IN SILK - @spideyjimin ♡ jungkook x reader - ongoing | series ♡ smut, angst, fluff ♡ summary. loving jungkook was easy, he was the shy and nerdy guy no one really noticed, and that was fine for him. however, everything changed when a radioactive spider bite turned him into the city’s mysterious new hero. as a detective, you were quick to notice the shift. then, his mentor, Kang Sangmin, died in front of you. now, you’re hunting a killer and uncovering the truth about the man you thought you knew.

I WON'T STOP YOU - @imsarabum ♡ jungkook x reader - completed | series ♡ smut, angst, fluff ♡ summary. You drive to your boss‘s house with the intention of returning his wallet he left at the office. You feel uneasy, seeing his manor for the first time - Jungkook also feels uneasy, but for reasons that you could never begin to imagine.

MUTT - @letsbangts ♡ jungkook x reader - ongoing | mini(?)-series ♡ smut, angst, fluff ♡ summary: when he’s with you, he’s like a dog with a bone.

MATURE - @jiminrings ♡ jungkook x reader | oneshot ♡ angst, fluff ♡ summary. the good thing about professing your feelings to jungkook is that it'd be over with, whether or not he likes you back — the bad thing is that he rejects you, even if you haven't confessed.

THE ALPHA OMEGA SERIES - @borathae ♡ jungkook x reader - completed | series ♡ smut, fluff, angst ♡ summary. Jungkook is the son of the pack Alpha and therefore heir of the titel. You are an omega and utterly out of his league. This is the story of how, against all odds, you and he became true mates.

VELVET WAVES - @gukcnt ♡ jungkook x reader | oneshot ♡ smut, fluff, angst ♡ summary. in which you go to a vacation in Maldives with your husband, where he shows his love for you by spoiling you with luxuries and passionate experiences that'll forever be in your heart.

SHADOWS OF OBSESSION - @gukcnt ♡ jungkook x reader - ongoing | series ♡ smut, angst, fluff ♡ summary. a criminal's obsession with a shy medical student starts a passionate mix of desire and darkness. As their worlds collide, secrets get exposed and possession turns into love. In a world filled with betrayal and the weight of their own pasts, can they find a way to survive together? or will their twisted bond ultimately destroy them both?

BAD CHEM - @muniimyg ♡ jungkook x reader - completed | mini-series ♡ smut, angst, fluff ♡ summary. after overhearing jungkook fuck someone else; you can’t help but want out of being his frenemy

PRIORITIES - @kookiesncreamri ♡ jungkook x reader - ongoing | series ♡ smut, angst, fluff, social media au ♡ summary. didn’t you both decide it’s just fwb? Then why does it feel like it’s more?

PALENTINES - @whyse7vn ♡ ot7 x reader | oneshot(?) ♡ fluff(?), social media au ♡ summary. n/a (all I know is that I loved this)

IN LOVE WITH LOVE (WITH YOU) - @pantoneyoongi ♡ jungkook x reader - completed | series ♡ fluff ♡ summary. you’re a romantic. jungkook? jungkook is not.

MORE WILL COME! (IF NO LINKS WORK PLEASE LET ME KNOW AND I SHALL SORT IT WHEN I CAN)

[iboozi]

omg thank you!!! 💗

here's this month's top 10 best Jungkook fan fics, [ for June ]

.☘︎ ݁˖ break my heart by @spideyjimin

roommates au | 18k

.☘︎ ݁˖ welcome to the heartbreak show by @numinousher

s2l au, college au | 28k

.☘︎ ݁˖ the proposal by @hansolmates

e2l's au , fake marriage | 20k (MY FAVVVV)

.☘︎ ݁˖ closer to you by @agustdtown1

friends to fuck buddies au | 8k

.☘︎ ݁˖ begin by @taegularities

fantasy au | 26k

.☘︎ ݁˖ entropy by @youthguk

fuckboy au | 2 part shot

.☘︎ ݁˖ fighting heart by @kooktrash

f2l's , boxer au | 15k

.☘︎ ݁˖ make it right by @lo1k-diamonds

idol au | 13k

.☘︎ ݁˖ song for us by @iboozi

s2l's | 8k

.☘︎ ݁˖ just this once by @ggukivrse

f2l's | two shot

like my recommendations? check my monthly reading list.

[iboozi]

YOONGI 🥹

[iboozi]

Took down Love in the Dark while I try and reassess the plot because I cannot for the life of me, figure out what I'm doing with it. I tried changing the tense and now it's a mess so bear with me while I change some aspects of it. I'll try and put it back up soon!

[iboozi]

Author-nim, may I humbly request a Jungkook one-shot, inspired by the beautiful and emotional song “Don’t Judge Me” by Chris Brown? I’m hoping for a bittersweet journey with a warm, happy ending. Thank you endlessly 💘

Just listened to the song and I love the request! I have some ideas in mind that i think could translate the vibe of the song but it might take some time for me to write it? So please bear with me if it doesn’t come out immediately 🙏

[iboozi]

Everybody here wants you is amazing 🥹 we love a yearning man. It’s crazy how they both felt such a pull towards eachother after only sharing like 5 words to eachother over a couple of months,, makes me want him so bad.. would JK stay this obsessed with OC even after sleeping with her regularly?

hell yeah he would!

Now that he’s finally had the chance to really be with be with her, he’s never letting go because why would he?

And it’s not just because he slept with her, but he fell in love because of the way others loved her - Jimin made it sound like she was the easiest person to love, and she was! Some people just carry that around them and oc is just one of them!

p.s. also because I cannot physically write a man who isn’t a yearner because I wouldn’t have it any other way

[iboozi]

Important(ish) question!!!

Do we still fw Love in the Dark?? Or shall I scrap it and move on? Bc I have some of the next part written but it's not coming together that well so I have to really reassess and rewrite some of it. And potentially rethink the plot (whoops)

pls let me know 🙏

[iboozi]

Songs of Us | Everybody Here Wants You | jjk

↺ pairing: jeongguk / reader (somewhat strangers to lovers)

↺ summary: Everybody wants you, but you only want him

↺ warnings: smut (in a bathroom sorry), unprotected sex (stay safe), oral (f. receiving),

↺ w/c: 8.5k

A/N: Hello... uh... welcome to the second instalment of the Songs of Us series!!! This took 3 weeks to write because I had to keep changing so much, but here it is! My poor wrists are cramped up writing this. And I finally figured out how to do the em dash on mac 😼 so it's over for everyone (jk). I do have other song ideas but I'm always welcome to more! Pls! Enjoy! And I listened to Everybody here wants you by Jeff Buckley on REPEAT whilst editing so this song is stuck in my head. Also I wanted to make this enemies to lovers but something about a lover boy just gets me everytime. I'm drawn to needy guys (not really irl) ! I'll try it again next time 😔

p.s thankyouthankyou to @tranquilreign for encouraging me to keep going!💗 you got this as well!!!

-Zoobi out 🪩

Everybody here wants you

Jeon Jeongguk was seething. 

Well — not exactly seething. More like… mildly agitated. The moment just before water reaches boiling point. The kind of emotional turmoil that wouldn’t result in a few holes punched into drywall but did warrant a deep sigh and a stare out the window that would have others questioning his behaviour. 

It wasn’t common for him to feel such freakishly intense emotions – on a Friday night, no less – but alas, he was a growing boy (pushing 30) who was yet to have a hold on his emotions. 

In all honesty, he was a well-regulated person. He was said to be a man of structure (Jimin’s words, not his) and often showed high levels of self-restraint. He did his morning exercise, ate balanced meals nine times out of ten, and even spared time to read self-help books every evening. But tonight? All of that had been thrown right out  the window and stuffed down the garbage chute. 

Why?

Because of a girl.

And no, he wasn’t rejected by her. Quite the opposite actually. She was too nice. Painfully, bewilderingly, disarmingly nice.  

You see, upon meeting this girl, Jeongguk had been confoundingly starstruck. No, really — his mouth had literally fallen open.

He had tried to say something – anything – but all he could let out was a sound that was vaguely similar to the sputtering of a dying car engine. You, of course, had smiled. Not with pity and certainly no mockery either. You gave a smile that radiated warmth and signalled that Jeongguk hadn’t actually embarrassed himself. 

But a nudge and a snicker from Jimin beside him snapped him back to the reality that they were being watched by a few friends, and that he, in fact, did lose some composure in that moment. He couldn’t do anything but flush a soft pink and scratch the back of his head as he muttered a quiet, 

“Uh-hey… nice to meet you,” as if the universe were witnessing his struggle and had decided to put him in a far more awkward situation. 

The universe, in that case, seemed to be Jimin who found Jeongguk tripping over his words much more comical than his mouth falling open. His laughter echoed throughout the bar, much louder than necessary, drawing the attention of a few nearby onlookers who most definitely didn’t need to see Jeongguk socially run himself into the ground. He could’ve sworn he heard someone whisper, “Is that Jeongguk? Didn’t he sing karaoke here the other day? With like a hundred people?”

Jimin — the absolute traitor — was no help whatsoever. He was too busy trying not to keel over onto the ground, an apparent sign that he loved to see Jeongguk suffer. If anything was better than getting under Jeongguk’s skin, it was seeing him fumble and trip over his words in front of a girl. At least Jimin was a true friend. 

But that wasn’t all. 

The worst part was that Jimin was holding onto your arm as he tried to keep his balance. His arm was curled gently around your forearm, and you, being the kind-hearted person you were, your free hand was gripping onto his bicep to keep him steady. 

And even though Jimin was holding onto you for support, there was a level of intimacy behind his hold. 

Jeongguk wasn’t sure whether he wanted to strangle his best friend or sprint out the door without looking back. 

He couldn’t help it - his gaze kept drifting back to you. Your focus wasn’t on Jeongguk anymore – no it was now on Jimin. Jimin, whom you were looking at like he was some kind of circus act. 

Your hand was still wrapped loosely around his arm, fingers brushing Jimin’s hidden tattoos, but Jeongguk swore that he could feel the heat from your touch like it was something tangible. It certainly didn’t help that you were laughing along with Jimin, making Jeongguk feel like an outsider in his own group of friends. 

Even Namjoon at the back was stifling his laughter – a man notoriously known for fumbling things. The goddamn audacity of Jimin, ruining Jeongguk’s chance at normality, whilst simultaneously sweeping in and bonding with you like old pals – which, Jeongguk supposed, you were. 

“Jimin,” Jeongguk had muttered beneath his breath, voice laced with frustration, “you’re making it worse.”

But of course, Jimin didn’t hear. He didn’t really acknowledge Jeongguk’s visible awkwardness, as he knew Jeongguk would eventually warm up with a few drinks — or at least thought Jeongguk was grown enough to do so.

As a matter of fact, Jeongguk hadn’t warmed up with a few drinks. 

Instead, his beer sat untouched in front of him, condensation dripping slowly down the side, as if it were taunting him. 

You were still talking to Jimin. Still laughing. And still pulling the attention of everyone in the room without meaning to. Jeongguk had caught at least four guys taking a double take as you waltzed past everyone to the restroom. 

And Jeongguk? He was just there. Stuck in his own head. Watching the way you floated through the room with such grace that it felt illegal to look at you for too long. 

And yeah, maybe it was a bit — no, it was very — stupid of him as he just sat in the corner of the booth, fidgeting with the bracelets on his wrist,a  storm brewing behind his eyes. 

But as if the universe were playing some big cruel joke on him, a song he knew too well started playing from the speakers behind him. 

“Twenty-nine pearls in your kiss 

A singing smile,

Coffee smell and lilac skin

Your flame in me…”                       

Jeongguk was frozen. He knew that song. Of course he did. His scratched-up vinyl was somewhere under his bed, tucked away with the rest of his albums he liked to pull out on nights when his emotions got the best of him. If anyone were to find his collection, Jeongguk would just laugh and offer to put one on. But this specific song was a bit more worn, corners a bit more frayed, because Jeongguk had simply used the vinyl so much that it was begging to be put back and given rest. 

Now, like a memory brandished in front of him, it was playing in public, in real time. The words reverberated in his skull as you threw your head back to laugh at something Jimin said. The delicate curve of your neck matched the lift of your smile, pulling at something deep in Jeongguk’s chest. It hit Jeongguk – this wasn’t a crush. It couldn’t be classified as infatuation. 

Because this was a full-body ache. 

Years of hearing about you and your travels across the world, what jobs you had bounced between, the languages you spoke like they were your mother tongue. The little anecdotes Jimin would filter into every conversation added up over the years – like the time you roamed the streets of Prague lost in the city lights with nothing but a dying phone battery in one hand and heels in the other. Or when you somehow managed to charm a cranky police officer in Tokyo, speaking perfect Japanese without hesitation. All these stories, all these mentions of you over the years had turned you into a slowly building myth in Jeongguk’s mind. You were a legend in his group. 

A soft, golden legend. Who was now sitting in front of him, laughing. Just existing in the same vicinity as him. So real and so devastatingly beautiful. 

Jeongguk didn’t even know what to focus on, his gaze hyper- fixated on your figure. Your dress, delicate straps sloping down your shoulders. Your necklace, sitting perfectly in the hollow of your neck. Every detail was so meticulously curated, from your hair down to your nails, that all Jeongguk could do was stare. He smiled when you smiled. Laughed when you made jokes. Offered to refill your drink, which you kindly accepted. Even Namjoon had noticed Jeongguk’s attention solely directed to you, but a few nudges from him wouldn’t even deter Jeongguk from continuing to shine the spotlight on you. 

“I’ll be waiting right here to show you

How our love will blow it all away…”

The lyrics hit too close to home. God had a sick sense of humour.

Frankly speaking, Jeongguk hadn’t expected to be put in this situation. Hadn’t expected to be looked at the way you did – not when Jimin showed your pictures and certainly not when he mentioned you were tagging along for the night. 

You were Jimin’s friend. Jimin’s closest friend. The kind who whispered secrets under the covers. The kind who knew what each other was thinking before anything was verbalised. The kind that walked into the room and became the air that everyone breathed. And the kind that never lingered for too long, always hooking the attention of people, leading them in a trail of passports and postcards and “Goodbye don’t miss me!” notes.  

And even though Jeongguk knew this when you looked at him – before the embarrassment, and before Jimin began his normal routine of making jokes at Jeongguk – it wasn’t dismissive. There was curiosity in your gaze. A sort of gentleness that Jeongguk hadn’t had the opportunity to really see. Ever. 

And call it cliché, but he felt seen. Not in the normal performative way that others viewed him in — the golden boy title — but something more subdued. Like the world had halted and you had suddenly found yourself at the same frequency he was vibrating on. 

That was the part that hurt.

He couldn’t even decide if there was more jealousy to be channelled towards Jimin – for grasping and attaining your attention so easily – or himself, for knowing how you could look at him. 

And God, the way the song resounded through the bar. 

“I know everybody here wants you,

I know everybody here thinks he needs you…”

Everyone did want you. Jeongguk could sense it in the way people's eyes lingered on you from across the room like you were some kind of celestial being. The way their eyes lit up as you voiced conversations. He was insane for thinking that he even had a sliver of a chance with you – he was too structured, too soft-spoken, and had a deep fear of too much. 

So he sat there, quietly tracing the rim of his glass, unnoticed by the rest, while the music filled the void of what he wanted to say and what he inevitably never would. 

And as your winding, overly animated exchange with Jimin came to an end, your eyes scanned the booth before landing on Jeongguk. You tentatively offered him a small smile, and Jeongguk’s heart flipped in his chest – a sharp, stabbing pain that he would gladly experience a hundred more times, just for you to give that tender smile of yours to him. 

“Everything okay?” you asked calmly, cheeks flushed from the combination of the hot air and alcohol. 

The question wasn’t for others to hear. Wasn’t dramatic and wasn’t loud.  

And Jeongguk - poor, deteriorating Jeongguk - nodded frantically. 

“Yeah. Just, uh… you know… thinking.”

You tilted your head to the side, bangs untucking from behind your ears and falling ever so carefully down your forehead. 

“Dangerous pastime, I’ve heard. Don’t hurt yourself.”

He gave a breathy laugh. 

“Are—“

Jimin stood up abruptly, thighs knocking into the table, causing Jeongguk’s drink to slosh over its rim. 

“Jeonggukie. We gotta go, dude. She’s blowing up my phone again.”

Jimin was already halfway to the door, coat in hand, and evidently in his own world. Jeongguk didn’t move, fingers still absentmindedly circling the glass’ rim. Only when Jimin interrupted with a loud “Jeongguk!” did he jolt out of his daydream — nightdream? It was well past the hours he would be awake, and Jeongguk was feeling the effects of it. 

“I swear to God, Jimin,” he muttered, running a hand down his face, his words drowned out by Jimin’s boisterous antics. The said person was already making his way back over to the booth to pull Jeongguk up, barely giving him a moment to recover. 

Jimin looked at you, a sheepish grin plastered on his face, and laughed out,

“Sorry, Jeongguk’s just a little—” He gestured his hand vaguely to Jeongguk and the pure awkwardness radiating off  him. “Well, I’m sure you can figure it out.”

Jimin winked at him, who could only glare in return and yank his arm out of Jimin’s hold. 

Jeongguk wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or the way the entire bar seemed to blur around you, but as he reached down for his jacket, the weight of his emotions was heavier than ever. His body was stiff, the physical manifestation of every feeling he couldn’t quite place. But you?

 You were just there — your warmth, your presence, the way your gaze lingered on him with that unspoken curiosity, and Jeongguk found himself paralysed.

The moment you were so close to sharing was gone, dissipated in the door Jimin had left open. 

And the perpetrator was already at the door again, texting away like he had zero notion for the turmoil his best friend was experiencing. It was a good thing that Jeongguk had learned over many torturous years  how to silently communicate his frustration to Jimin, because right now it was at an all-time high. 

Jeongguk wanted to say something to you – anything - but, like always, his words failed him when he needed them the most. 

So when he looked back at you to catch one last glance, he found you staring at him – not Namjoon, who was engaging in conversation with you – the smile from earlier lingering on your face. Jeongguk grinned back but couldn’t quite place what your smile meant. Pity? Or… something else? And that goddamn ridiculous song followed him out the door, mocking him for the predicament he was in. 

He had barely taken two steps toward his bike, which Jimin was resting against when he heard the unmistakable whisper of your voice. It travelled through the air and struck a chord, freezing him, breath caught in his throat and the tension that was slowly leaving came back in full force. 

He turned around, eyes scanning the street barely lit by the overhead lamps. His gaze found yours — heart skipping a beat as he saw you standing there, a few feet away, shuffling in the cold. 

You were staring at him — so calmly, so composed — but there was something in the way you looked at him that hadn’t been there before. Maybe it was your drawn-out gaze that lasted just a few seconds too long, or the soft tilt of your head. It was different… but a good different.

“Jeongguk,” you said again, softer this time, like you were testing the air between you. “You left your phone behind.”

His first instinct was to pat the pockets of his jeans, then his jacket. Then he looked up at you, eyes wide with surprise. He smiled that awkward smile of his, like he’d  just been caught cheating in an exam and walked over to you. Your gaze, full of amusement, was locked onto Jeongguk’s figure as he made his way over to you, and he swore he felt you look him up and down — but he didn’t want to feed into the delusion. 

He muttered a small thanks as you handed his phone back to him, but his eyes never left yours. The streetlights shining overhead seemed to illuminate you — a visage kissed by light, highlighting the gentle features of your face:  your delicately sloping nose, the little freckles on your cheeks and the way your hair cascaded over your shoulder like a scarf, woven from midnight and dreams. In Jeongguk’s eyes, you were oneiric, someone spoken of only in myths and tales. 

You took a few steps closer, feet directly opposite Jeongguk’s,  a smile playing on your lips — mischief mingled with something else. Something caring. 

“You looked like you were overwhelmed in there,” you teased, voice but tinged with a softness that made Jeongguk’s chest tighten. 

He let out something between a laugh and a cough, surprised to be caught. Usually he was able to place an impressive façade, but maybe it just wasn’t as good as he thought it was. He fiddled with his jacket, pulling the sleeves over his hands, pretending his skin wasn’t warm to the touch — feverishly red. 

“Yeah…I-I’m fine,” he said, but the words felt foreign on his tongue. He was anything but fine. 

You watched him with a steady gaze and hummed softly, as if trying to figure him out. 

“Are you sure?” you asked, stepping closer. “I don’t want to assume, but it… it didn’t seem like that.”

Jeongguk’s heart thudded against his ribcage — from panic, but something he was yet to identify. How could you have such an impact on him after only just meeting?

"I…" He paused, swallowing the build-up of spit in his throat "I don’t know. I’ve just—" He let out a small, frustrated sigh and ran his hand through his hair. "I guess I was just nervous.”

You blinked, eyes softening in understanding.

“Nervous about what?”

Jeongguk gestured vaguely toward the bar.

"Being around people. Making conversations. I get all... tangled up in my head and forget how to just relax." He laughed, but it wasn’t a funny laugh — more self-deprecating, if he was being honest. "I probably just needed another drink.”

You tilted your head slightly, eyes boring holes into Jeongguk. 

Y’know,” you started, voice closer to a whisper, “Jimin didn’t tell me that about you.”

Jeongguk balked, eyes widening in sudden surprise.

“He talked about me?”

You laughed, ripples of joy escaping your lips, getting lost in the night breeze, and looked up at Jeongguk with a big smile on your face.

“Of course he has.”

He wasn’t sure what to say to that. He figured he should’ve expected it. If Jimin talked endlessly about you to everyone, then surely he’d talk about Jeongguk as well, right?

All the awful stories that had accumulated over the years on drunken nights, the occasional nights fuelled by pure adrenaline, and the nights he would rather not bring up rushed back into Jeongguk’s head. He fought the urge to groan. Goddamnit, Jimin.

You shrugged, the playful glint in your eye never fading. “I know a lot more about you than you think, Jeonggukie. Jimin just doesn’t keep his mouth shut.”

You paused, taking in his bewildered expression.

“And I know you know about me too.”

That was the last straw—the final piece of décor on the cake. Jeongguk hung his head in embarrassment. All that, and he still managed to fuck up his first impression.

You didn’t say anything for a moment, just letting the silence wrap around you both—and the awkwardness around Jeongguk. There was something serene in the air between you, a quiet understanding that perhaps you weren’t really strangers.

And then you moved—just barely, but enough to close the space between you two, causing your shoes to brush the tips of his.

Jeongguk froze.

Gone was the laughter in your eyes. But it wasn’t replaced with mockery. It was curiosity. Raw curiosity, almost like you were inviting him to say something he’d been festering on all night.

Then your voice, soft and harmonious:

“Maybe next time… try saying hi before your nervous system gives up.”

A laugh bubbled up from his chest, the first genuine one of the day—lifting some of the weight he had been unconsciously carrying.

You smiled at him like you meant it and ever so carefully inched your hand out to brush a strand of hair from his forehead.

Jeongguk stood still, phone still clutched in his hand, grip tighter than ever, and nodded slowly. Your hand slowly made its way down and rested on his jaw a few seconds too long—long enough for Jeongguk to get nervous, red tainting the tips of his ears. Thank God it was dark.

“Okay,” he breathed out shakily. “Next time.”

You took a step back, hands clasped behind your back, eyes still on his. “I’ll keep you to that, Jeongguk.”

Then you turned, hair catching the light like strands of spun gold, and made your way back to the bar—leaving behind the soft smell of jasmine and a boy who could finally breathe.

Art exhibitions were one of Jeongguk’s favourite places to be. At first, he only came because Namjoon would plead him to come — to which he would, begrudgingly — but overtime he had come to find peace in the simplicity of the experience and was constantly finding new ones to go to (with Jimin as well).

The gallery was picturesque, with soft, warm lighting — strangely reminding Jeongguk of the night with you outside the bar – with the shadows across the walls where canvases breathed tales in splashes of watercolour and acrylic. The air had the subtle after-scent of paint and polished wood, mingled with faint undertones of perfumes and freshly opened bottles of wines.

Jeongguk was lingering near a large painting – an explosive composition of blues and reds, very much paying a homage to the inner disarray he had been experiencing over the last few weeks. 

First, hearing from Jimin that you were on a flight to god knows where less than twelve hours after your initial meeting quickly dampened his giddy mood. He was hoping to see you again — even just for a quick coffee— but was now stuck resorting to stalking to your Instagram. 

He couldn’t even do that properly, considering your account was strictly private and Jeongguk felt that he wasn’t at that level of status with you. He couldn’t even stalk from Jimin’s phone because he knew that his best friend wouldn’t keep his gob shut and would relay the information back to you in less than two minutes. So he was stuck with his memories. Which was quite poor, considering how tired he was on that darned night, but your face and the lingering smell of you was enough —for now.

What made this indescribable feeling of yearning worse was the fact that Jimin didn’t even know when you’d be back. Seriously. What was he even useful for? Despite all the claims of knowing you the best, he never once thought to figure out your spontaneity — or at least tried to make rough estimations based on patterns. If Jeongguk ever tried to slip your name in a conversation (very discreetly—at least he thought so), Jimin would just laugh to himself and mutter some incoherent words before going back to typing furiously on his phone. Literally. That’s all he would do. 

It was frustrating to Jeongguk to no end, but he learnt to keep his mouth shut and instead wallow in the idea of what could be (which really wasn’t looking like much)

So, he figured he would distract himself with what he knew best. And no, it wasn’t the gym—even though it came a close second—but it was the tranquillity of these small art galleries, the ones that were tucked away in the quietest streets, waiting for travellers to settle inside and welcome a new world 

He always liked being the one to pursue things, not the one being sought for.

Thus, he stood in a quiet corner of the room, hands tucked into his pockets, body stiff and mind racing with thoughts. He told himself that this was a casual event, but he couldn’t help but put on his best dress shoes—and yes, he might’ve gelled his hair a bit and put on his best black shirt, but it made him feel good. He needed this boost of confidence considering how pathetic he had felt lately and dressing up to have somewhat done the trick. 

But it still didn’t stop the unease running through him. It was unsettling – he wasn’t one to feel nervous in a place he found comfort, but there was something about the air that made tonight’s exhibition a bit more… lonely. 

Perhaps it was the fact that Namjoon and Jimin had ditched him for their dates—he didn’t even know that it was allowed in friend group meetups, but… it wasn’t like he had one anyway. 

And like someone had just replaced the tonearm on a continuous vinyl, the very song that Jeongguk had been trying to avoid filtered through the speakers once more and wandered over to his ears.  

…it had to be a joke. Right? No way this song was following him around like it had a warrant on him. Seriously. He had no idea what he had done to deserve this torture, and frankly, he didn’t have the mental strength to think about it. 

Jeongguk didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Didn’t take his hand out of his pockets. Just stared at the painting like he was trying to be absorbed by it, disappear amongst the weird, colourful swirls and blend in to hide from whatever divine intervention was going on around him, just preying on him in his most pitiful moments. 

“I know everybody here wants you…”

He tightened his jaw, muscles fluttering in annoyance. 

It was decided. The universe had a sick, personal vendetta against him. How the hell did this song play everytime his thoughts drifted to you? Sure he might’ve thought of you more often than he’d like to admit, but he was trying to distract himself, goddamnit!

He huffed. Not even the multitude of colours in front of him could tug his attention from you. 

It wasn’t really about the song. Not really. It was more so to do with what it meant to him. 

The night outside the bar. 

The way you caressed his hair even though he wanted it to lay like that. 

The way you whispered his name like it was a secret between the two of you

The way you saw him.

And then— the way you left as quickly as you came.

He barely got to say his goodbye. You were there one minute, and suddenly he had blinked, and you were gone. All that was left was the feeling of your fingertips grazing his skin and the filtered story that Jimin showed you with a geotag somewhere oceans away. 

Jeongguk exhaled slowly, trying to collect his thoughts. He wasn’t in love or anything he was past the stage of teenage limerence. 

…Right?

A soft clack of heels pulled him from the drifting seas of his mind.

He didn’t react at first. Footsteps were common in galleries, voices humming like bees in fields of sunflowers. But there was something different about the rhythm. It made the hairs on his neck stand straight up. There was delicacy behind the footfalls nearing him.

He turned.

And nearly forgot how to fucking breathe.

You.

Long black dress, tan coat slung over your shoulder, and your hair just effortlessly pooling down your back like ink in water. 

“And our eyes are locked in downcast love…”

Your eyes met his, the twinkle in them almost blinding him before he could pretend to look away and be interested in anything else.

For a moment, neither of you moved. The song, of course, droned on in the background like a cruel soundtrack to his unbecoming.

You tilted your head, lips lifting into a knowing smile, like you were fully aware of the effect you had on Jeongguk, even by just standing there. Just by simultaneously coexisting in front of him.

“Jeongguk.”

He swore you said his name like it was yours.

“You’re here,” was all he managed. His words were barely spoken, drifting like mist and condensing on the painting next to him. Honestly, it felt a bit pathetic—what he said—but you smiled wider, nonetheless.

“Jimin slipped it into conversation,” you replied, stepping closer. He could see the glitter you lined your eyes with. “Told me you’ve been moping around in galleries like a sad little poet.”

He groaned, running a hand down his face. “No, he didn’t.”

“Oh, he did,” you laughed a little. “Even told me that you wore your ‘special’ shoes tonight.”

Jeongguk looked down, half expecting his brogues to start sinking into the ground out of sheer humiliation.

You stopped beside him, nudging him softly. “I like them.”

His laugh was disbelieving—the kind that crinkled the skin around his eyes and displayed the little freckle under his lip.

“Didn’t think you were gonna be back anytime soon,” he said quietly, hoping in the way he phrased it.

You shrugged. “Only for a little while. Maybe longer.”

He wasn’t sure what to say. He’d spent months thinking about all the things he might’ve said if you were ever in his presence again, but now that you really were—so achingly near, close enough to smell that jasmine scent again—his brain had fried itself and was devoid of any thoughts.

But you, as always, were the lighthouse in a storm.

“Hi,” you simply said. This wasn’t a greeting. It was a reset.

Jeongguk swallowed nervously.

“Hi.”

Joy bloomed in the creases by your eyes.

“See? That wasn’t so hard.”

He smiled at you sheepishly.

You turned your attention to the painting he’d been staring at before—the chaotic mix of colours that had once mirrored his internal disarray. He glanced at it and noticed how the mess seemed to fade towards the edge into two distinct lines of tranquillity. Huh.

“It’s pretty intense,” you said, studying the canvas.

“Yeah,” Jeongguk replied. “S’pose that makes sense, though.”

You glanced at him. “Because you’re feeling like it?”

He hesitated. Then nodded. “You kinda… do that to me.”

Your smile wavered for a millisecond—not in a bad way. In a breath-caught kind of way. A quiet pause before your expression softened.

“Good,” you whispered. “Because you—”

The ringing of your name being called across the gallery ceased the little conversation you were having.

You sighed, eyebrows furrowing, and looked over.

Jeongguk reluctantly tore his gaze from your face and followed yours over to see a man striding over. He was tall. Well-dressed. And very clearly knew you, the way he sauntered over, arms wide open in welcome. His coat flared slightly as he walked to your corner and had that laid-back, easy grin that made Jeongguk’s eye twitch in irritation.

Without hesitation, you stepped towards him, situating yourself into his arms that wrapped all the way around you. It was déjà vu—the way the hug looked so familiar to him. It was too close. And too long.

Jeongguk stood motionless.

His hands hung awkwardly at his sides, fingers alternating between being clenched into fists or flexing involuntarily with nerves… or something more. He tried to understand what the hell was happening in front of him—and what you were on the verge of saying—but he was all too distracted by the lack of space between you and that stranger.

When you finally pulled away, the guy leaned in to say something close to your ear. Jeongguk didn't miss the way your eyes flickered briefly back to him and away, like it never happened. You faltered.

“I’ll be back in a second,” you told him quickly, that ever-present softness in your voice still lingering, but dimmed. “I’ll catch you later, Jeonggukie, okay?”

He nodded. Tried to smile, but it came out more like a wince. Tried to let the sting not pierce his skin too deeply.

“Sure,” he replied. “Later.”

And with that, you walked off, arm in the stranger’s, and Jeongguk’s heart in your hand.

His posture sagged in small defeat, and he glanced towards Jimin, who was nearing him, sipping his wine and observing the turmoil Jeongguk was experiencing.

Jimin caught his eyes and raised a singular eyebrow with a smirk.

“Are you just gonna stand there?”

Jeongguk forced out a bitter laugh and brought his hands into his pockets.

“I’m fine.”

He knew he was lying. Jimin knew he was lying. The random women giving him a look as they walked past knew he was lying as well.

Every laugh that flowed from your lips felt like a knife digging into an old wound. When the stranger brushed a small strand of your hair behind your ear, Jeongguk scoffed, pushing his tongue against the inside of his cheek and looked away.

He found himself shuffling closer to Jimin, letting the small talk between him and his best friend become a barrier to hide behind.

Your eyes met his once across the room, and you offered him a small smile—but Jeongguk looked away before the moment could unfold into anything more. Instead, he watched you weave in and out of the crowd, integrating into fruitless conversation yet still capturing the attention of everyone in the room.

“Maybe I should’ve asked who he was,” Jeongguk muttered under his breath to Jimin, who just chuckled and patted his shoulder.

“Chill, man,” he teased. “You’ll see her again. I’m sure.”

Jeongguk wanted to believe it—really he did—but it was hard to when that ‘later’ never came.

You disappeared into the night with the man—that Jeongguk never figured out the name of—like mist beneath the stars. And Jeongguk had waited, eyes constantly scanning the gallery until closing. Even helped the staff clean up the bar and stack some chairs, just in case you popped back in.

You didn’t.

Jeongguk was seething.

Well—not exactly seething. More so… mildly agitated. The kind of agitation that was so close to spilling over the surface and onto everyone around him.

The house was too warm.

The people too loud.

The lights too dim.

He wasn't even sure why he was there– sure it was his house, but Namjoon had convinced him to host a small party with familiar faces, ‘friends-of-friends’ so he would finally loosen up.

He’d spent the last half of the hour sipping on the same drink and dodging the half-drunk people that attempted to make conversation with him. 

That, and the god-awful playlist Jimin had put on. It was like Jimin was stuck being heartbroken or pumping his fist at a rave with the kind of music you just had to vibe with.

 And currently Jeongguk did not vibe with it. 

He kinda nodded his head to heartbreak songs though - he supposed he could relate just a tad. 

He hadn’t heard from you since the night at the gallery.

 Nothing. 

And it’s not like you were obligated to - numbers weren’t even exchanged - but Jeongguk’s hope was a persistent little bastard that maybe, just maybe thought you would ask Jimin for his number and check up on him.

And it wasn’t like Jeongguk hadn’t tried the same. He gave up on the subtle hints to Jimin and had straight up asked for your number, even though he was turned down - rather quickly- with the words,

“If it was meant to be, she would come to give it to you herself.”

Jeongguk sighs at the memory, nursing his drink and glaring into the clear liquid as if it had caused him personal anguish. The laughter of those around him fades in and out of his hearing. Everything is duller, like the colour had been vacuumed out from the room. He’s partly tempted to pull an Irish goodbye at his own party and just leave. Maybe grab his walkman on the way out to play a song that didn’t emotionally scar him.

But then he sees you.

You, standing by the kitchen island, in conversation with Namjoon. You, lit like a spotlight found you despite the purposely dim lighting. And you, head tipped back slightly, laughing at something Namjoon is saying. Gone is the tan coat, replaced by an off- the- shoulder black top that clings to your figure. Gone are the effortless waves, swapped for your hair pinned back, emphasising the delicate nature of your neck.

Jeongguk freezes, glass halfway to his mouth, breath lodging in his throat. You looked dreamlike, standing out amongst the crowd, like an advert he’d seen on television one too many times. He wouldn’t dare to skip out on you— not after knowing the smile you could give him.

When did you get here?

He doesn’t even realise Jimin has slipped into the little corner of the couch that Jeongguk was practically sprawled on until a shoulder nudges his own.

“You’re doing it again,” Jimin teases, sounding far too happy considering his playlist.

“What thing?” Jeongguk hisses, eyes locking onto the way you seamlessly flit around the kitchen.

“The ‘I’ve-dreamed-about-her-every-day-and-can’t-believe-she’s-here’ thing.”

Jeongguk scowls and shoves Jimin lightly, but his eyes don't stray. You haven’t noticed him yet. 

He can’t decide if that’s  mercy or torment.

“She knows, doesn’t she?” he asks.

The smug silence of his friend is enough.

“She asked me if you’d ever want to see her face again. I said you were a sucker for pretty faces and that she should come and find out for herself.”

Jeongguk gapes. 

“You’re such a menace.”

“Well it worked, didn’t it? She’s here. In the flesh.” Jimin grins, clapping a hand down on Jeongguk’s back. “Maybe she wanted free drinks. Or… see you.”

Jeongguk ignores Jimin’s banter, eyes still tracking your every movement. The way your fingers tap against your glass. Or the way your gaze occasionally drifts from whoever you were talking to, and sweeps across the room —but never quite meets his. 

And still, Jeongguk doesn’t approach you. Can't get himself to move up from that sofa. The weight in his chest keeps him tethered down. The unspoken words claw at his throat like before.

So he sips his drink. And waits.

The party hums around him, low and warm like the static of one of his vinyls that was left on  too long. 

You pass by him once, ever so briefly.

And in that one incandescent moment, your hand brushes his — hanging over the back of the couch—as you slide past on the way to the hallway. He doesn’t look up, but he knows it’s you, he feels it’s you. The absence of your touch shouldn’t linger the way it does

He doesn’t see where you go. Doesn’t even register why he’s following the scent of your perfume until his feet lead him to the hallway. Past the kitchen, past the shoes by the door, and away from the loud thrum of the party.

The bathroom door near the back end of his apartment iss half-open, an amber glow spilling through.

He raps his knuckles against the door.

“Occupied?”

A soft voice calls out.

“Yeah - give me a sec!”

But that voice…he knows it. He knows it too well.

Jeongguk pushes the door slightly - just a little further.

And there you are. Standing at the mirror, fingers fixing the wing of your eyeliner, with the smallest concentration crease forming between your brows. You see him in the reflection and halt your actions.

“Sorry-” he starts, already turning around to go back.

But you spin around, swiping a finger across the corner of your eyes.

“Wait Jeongguk.”

He freezes. The air is heavy, electricity tingling in the way that makes the space feel so much smaller than it already is..

“I was gonna leave,” you say after a beat, eyes searching his. “I…I didn't think you wanted to talk to me.”

“I thought you didn’t.”

A momentary pause. The tension doesn’t dissipate, only grows thicker, encircling the two of you like entertainment in a cage.

“I was waiting,” you start, “I didn’t want to interrupt. I wasn’t sure if…”

You don’t finish your sentence.

Jeongguk steps in. Closes the door behind him with a muted click.

“You came,” he murmurs, voice barely a decibel above a breath.

You smile at him. “I was told by a certain someone that if I wanted your number, I should come get it myself.”

Jeongguk gives a quiet laugh and steps closer to you.

“Funny. I was also told something similar. What are the chances it was the same person?”

You move forward, and lean up to him.

“A hundred percent.”

Your laughter at his expression is more subdued this time, eyes fluttering down to the space between you both—or the lack of. It’s close. So close. He can smell the fragrance radiating off of you, the floral scent ingrained into his head. He’s not sure if  it’s his pulse or yours echoing so loudly in the confined room.

“I was going to ask for it,” you say, voice softer now. “At the gallery.”

“I wanted to kiss you,” Jeongguk blurts.

It slips out. Honest. Raw. And unguarded.

Your eyes snap up to his, plush lips parting slightly, startled but… not afraid. Not uncomfortable.

“Why didn’t you?”

“You left with someone else.”

You nod. “That wasn’t what you think.”

Jeongguk doesn’t want to ask. He doesn’t want to ruin this moment. He’ll face the repercussions later—as long as he’s allowed in your presence for more than twenty minutes.

Your hands move. Brush down your sides, like you’re trying to ground yourself. Or preparing for something. His hands twitch. He wants to touch you. He wants to remember how your fingers felt against his jaw. But he waits. Waits for you to make the first move.

He’s done seeking first.

Your hand lifts slowly to his chest, palm lying flat over his sternum, right where his heartbeat betrays him. You can feel it. He’s sure.

“You’re still nervous,” you whisper.

“I’ve never wanted something so bad in my life.”

The air cracks.

Your fingers slide up lazily. Up to the collar of his shirt  Tugging him. Testing the waters.

“Hi,” you say.

That’s all he needs.

He’s moving before he can process his actions, lips pressing to yours in a kiss that doesn’t ask permission—but it doesn’t need to. It’s slow at first. Hesitant. Like he’s making sure you’re  really there. That this isn’t another cruel memory that would fade before he even woke up.

But when you sigh against his mouth, tilting your head just enough and nudging your nose against his—

Something inside of him explodes.

His hands find your waist, pulling you flush against him, mouth pressing with more desperation, tongue sweeping past your lips when you part them with a soft whimper that nearly undoes him. Your hands  tangle in his hair, anchoring yourself as he kisses you like he’d been waiting a lifetime.

The counter is cold against the back of your thighs as he lifts you onto it, barely stopping to catch his breath. His hand wedges around your hips, thumbs dragging across the sliver of skin where your shirt rides up.

You gasp into his mouth as he pulls you closer, chest to chest, heat unfurling between you like a wildfire.

He pulls back when you tug lightly on his hair, lips red and kiss-swollen, eyes hazy but focused.

“Hi,” you breathe out.

Jeongguk grins against your mouth.

“Hi baby,”

He reaches behind him, turning the lock on the door before moving for you again. His hands move with a practiced ease - the nerves from before nowhere to be found - as his hands slip under the hem of your shirt, warm fingers tracing the soft curve of your waist. His lips never leave yours, kisses rougher now, and more urgent.

Your breath mingles with his, hands clenching the fabric of his shirt, drawing him in closer, a siren in disguise.

His body presses firmly against yours, hips aligning, heat between you flaring.

With a quiet grunt, Jeongguk shifts, lifting you higher on the counter. His hands roam lower, fingers teasing the edge of your skirt, fingers dipping below the waistband. You arch into his touch, breath hitching and fingers tightening.

His mouth finds your jaw and he trails down, nipping gently before moving again - neck, collarbone, the skin below your shirt - a trail of fire in his wake.

Your fingers tangle in his hair once more, tugging, urging him deeper and harder. Jeongguk’s hands drift beneath your skirt, skimming the smoothness of your skin— inching toward that sensitive spot that makes you shiver.

He looks up at you, knees resting on the ground. Neither of you speak. The world’s shrunk to the heat of skin on skin, and the desperation laced into your frantic breaths.

He lifts your skirt up tentatively, eyes meeting yours in a silent ask. You nod. Oh how badly you need this.

Jeongguk’s fingers rub against your hip bones as he inches forwards. He presses soft kisses up your thigh, pausing when he meets your sweet spot.

“Jeongguk,” you whisper, voice shaky with anticipation.

He nudges his nose against you, “I’m here.”

He glances up at you once more, long enough to meet your eyes - dark, smouldering, and utterly focused on you - before diving in again. His tongue brushes against your underwear, rubbing up against you in a slow, teasing dance, exploring the promise in every touch.

You cry out, hands tightening at the edge of the counter, legs fighting the urge to close around his head. Jeongguk clamps his hands around your outer thighs, stabilising and ruining you at the same time.

He smiles against the lace of your underwear as you grip his hair, tongue lapping up any hint of your approaching climax. He licks deeper and triumphs as you call his name out once more, thighs trembling by his ears.

Burrowing himself deeper under your skirt, he almost halts his actions.

What if you think that he only wanted you for sex? What if this is a fleeting moment that won’t be rediscovered?

But before the irrational thoughts can settle, your hands pull on his hair, begging for him to come back up. He complies, clambering up, shaking his knees out and looks at you.

Meeting your tear stricken eyes, guilt settles in his chest,

“Are you-”

“I need you in me. Now. Jeongguk…please.”

And there it is.

His chest tightens like a wave crashing against the shore, relentless and full of emotion. This isn’t just affection he feels for you, this is an all-consuming force that pushes past reason.

He nods and reaches for his jeans. Doesn’t bother with pulling his jeans all the way off, just slides them down past his butt. Reaches for his length, stiff with need and leaking with arousal.

 One. Two. Three pumps and he grasps for the back of your thighs before pushing into you. He lets out a low moan into your ear, loudening as you squeeze around him. He falls forwards, hands falling beside you.

“B-baby, don’t do that, I’ll finish,” he murmurs along your neck, nibbling gently at the column of your throat.

Your arms clasp around his neck, nails clawing at his shoulders.

“Sorry… I’m just nervous,”

Jeongguk leans back. Smiles down at you and reaches for your hand. Fingers spanning the entirety of your wrist, he places your palm against his heart, mimicking your actions before.

“Me too,”

You melt at his words. Literally. Jeongguk feels you loosen up around him, nails no longer digging half crescents into his skin. He lets out a short breath and pulls back to the tip, before pressing into you again… and again.

You moan, head tilting back, one hand holding his, resting on your waist, the other, turning white with how tightly you were gripping the counter.

Jeongguk grabs the back of your neck, encouraging you to meet his eyes. He had your attention now —only his—and he wasn’t going to lose it.

There’s something so vulnerable about this position. Neither of you are fully unclothed, but you’re practically baring your hearts to each other.

Setting a steady pace, Jeongguk snaps his hips into you, grunting with every thrust, moving you further up the ledge next to the sink. He reaches around for your ass and pulls you closer. The movement shifts your positions slightly, where he’s deeper, and firmer inside of you..

“J-Jeongguk,” you rasp.

He thrusts harder, lewd noises of skin meeting skin filling the air.  Reaches down and rubs a finger against you,

“Come on baby. You can do it,”

Your back arches, curving into Jeongguk’s hands as you release—hot, sticky cum coating him and the inside of your thighs. You pulse frantically around him, pushing him forwards, moaning as your orgasm rips through you. 

Your arms give out, collapsing against the mirror above the sink with a broken whimper as you try and come down from your high.

“Oh fuck,” Jeongguk groans, pulling out, leaving you mourning the loss of him inside of you.

He jerks himself, hand fisted tightly around his cock, wrists moving with a rapid pace, hips stuttering and he chases his own climax.

You watch with bated breaths as his head tilts back, lip bitten raw in pleasure. A deep groan escapes him as his pace slows down, hips twitching forwards and he spills across your thighs in thick ropes. He fucks himself through his orgasm, one hand holding yours as he paints your skin milky.

He exhales as the last of his cum leaks out, and lets go of your hands to wipe the sweat lining his forehead.

He meets your eyes and lets out a little chuckle.

Leans forwards and pecks your nose. Your cheek. And then your forehead . You giggle at him and reach for a towel - to which he snatches it out of your hands, before running it under hot water. He swipes it across your thighs in gentle strokes, like he didn't just obliterate you and cleans himself up.

He pulls his jeans up, buckles his belt and pulls down your skirt. Reaching for your waist, he helps you hop off the counter.

You move towards the door, but he pulls you back. 

You meet his eyes. He swallows.

“I don’t want this to end. Ever.”

You look at him through your lashes and tuck a strand of his hair back.

“I’m gonna need your number first baby.”

Jeongguk grins, a smile lighting up his face as he wrenches the door open, hurrying for his phone that he left around somewhere.

Sunlight spills softly through the blind, casting warm stripes across the room where Jeongguk lies, you tucked under his arm. The quiet buzz of the city is distant, an otherworldly place that you’ve both stepped away from for a while. His arm rests loosely over your waist, arms sliding the hem of his t-shirt up as he traces small circles on your thigh.

For once, the voracious thoughts that constantly plagued his mind seem to have quietened down, leaving the calm weight of you beside him and the thrilling, quiet certainty of what happened last night.

You meet his eyes, and he smiles, dimples burrowing in his cheeks. No words are exchanged. This moment - this morning - is enough.

Jeongguk nudges his nose against yours,

“Can you accept my instagram request?”

You look up at him, eyebrows drawn together in confusion,

“Wha-”

The door creaks open and Jimin steps inside with an infuriatingly wide grin.

He laughs, breaking the tranquility of the morning. 

“By the way, Jeonggukie, I know what your favourite song is.”

Jeongguk stares at him, processing his words as Jimin’s teasing smile grows bigger.

“Okay?”

“And I’m also really good at making people play whatever songs I want.”

Jeongguk freezes. No way. He can’t be… that fucking little-

[iboozi]

Songs of Us | Everybody Here Wants You | jjk

↺ pairing: jeongguk / reader (somewhat strangers to lovers)

↺ summary: Everybody wants you, but you only want him

↺ warnings: smut (in a bathroom sorry), unprotected sex (stay safe), oral (f. receiving),

↺ w/c: 8.5k

A/N: Hello... uh... welcome to the second instalment of the Songs of Us series!!! This took 3 weeks to write because I had to keep changing so much, but here it is! My poor wrists are cramped up writing this. And I finally figured out how to do the em dash on mac 😼 so it's over for everyone (jk). I do have other song ideas but I'm always welcome to more! Pls! Enjoy! And I listened to Everybody here wants you by Jeff Buckley on REPEAT whilst editing so this song is stuck in my head. Also I wanted to make this enemies to lovers but something about a lover boy just gets me everytime. I'm drawn to needy guys (not really irl) ! I'll try it again next time 😔

p.s thankyouthankyou to @tranquilreign for encouraging me to keep going!💗 you got this as well!!!

-Zoobi out 🪩

masterlist

Everybody here wants you

Jeon Jeongguk was seething. 

Well — not exactly seething. More like… mildly agitated. The moment just before water reaches boiling point. The kind of emotional turmoil that wouldn’t result in a few holes punched into drywall but did warrant a deep sigh and a stare out the window that would have others questioning his behaviour. 

It wasn’t common for him to feel such freakishly intense emotions – on a Friday night, no less – but alas, he was a growing boy (pushing 30) who was yet to have a hold on his emotions. 

In all honesty, he was a well-regulated person. He was said to be a man of structure (Jimin’s words, not his) and often showed high levels of self-restraint. He did his morning exercise, ate balanced meals nine times out of ten, and even spared time to read self-help books every evening. But tonight? All of that had been thrown right out  the window and stuffed down the garbage chute. 

Why?

Because of a girl.

And no, he wasn’t rejected by her. Quite the opposite actually. She was too nice. Painfully, bewilderingly, disarmingly nice.  

You see, upon meeting this girl, Jeongguk had been confoundingly starstruck. No, really — his mouth had literally fallen open.

He had tried to say something – anything – but all he could let out was a sound that was vaguely similar to the sputtering of a dying car engine. You, of course, had smiled. Not with pity and certainly no mockery either. You gave a smile that radiated warmth and signalled that Jeongguk hadn’t actually embarrassed himself. 

But a nudge and a snicker from Jimin beside him snapped him back to the reality that they were being watched by a few friends, and that he, in fact, did lose some composure in that moment. He couldn’t do anything but flush a soft pink and scratch the back of his head as he muttered a quiet, 

“Uh-hey… nice to meet you,” as if the universe were witnessing his struggle and had decided to put him in a far more awkward situation. 

The universe, in that case, seemed to be Jimin who found Jeongguk tripping over his words much more comical than his mouth falling open. His laughter echoed throughout the bar, much louder than necessary, drawing the attention of a few nearby onlookers who most definitely didn’t need to see Jeongguk socially run himself into the ground. He could’ve sworn he heard someone whisper, “Is that Jeongguk? Didn’t he sing karaoke here the other day? With like a hundred people?”

Jimin — the absolute traitor — was no help whatsoever. He was too busy trying not to keel over onto the ground, an apparent sign that he loved to see Jeongguk suffer. If anything was better than getting under Jeongguk’s skin, it was seeing him fumble and trip over his words in front of a girl. At least Jimin was a true friend. 

But that wasn’t all. 

The worst part was that Jimin was holding onto your arm as he tried to keep his balance. His arm was curled gently around your forearm, and you, being the kind-hearted person you were, your free hand was gripping onto his bicep to keep him steady. 

And even though Jimin was holding onto you for support, there was a level of intimacy behind his hold. 

Jeongguk wasn’t sure whether he wanted to strangle his best friend or sprint out the door without looking back. 

He couldn’t help it - his gaze kept drifting back to you. Your focus wasn’t on Jeongguk anymore – no it was now on Jimin. Jimin, whom you were looking at like he was some kind of circus act. 

Your hand was still wrapped loosely around his arm, fingers brushing Jimin’s hidden tattoos, but Jeongguk swore that he could feel the heat from your touch like it was something tangible. It certainly didn’t help that you were laughing along with Jimin, making Jeongguk feel like an outsider in his own group of friends. 

Even Namjoon at the back was stifling his laughter – a man notoriously known for fumbling things. The goddamn audacity of Jimin, ruining Jeongguk’s chance at normality, whilst simultaneously sweeping in and bonding with you like old pals – which, Jeongguk supposed, you were. 

“Jimin,” Jeongguk had muttered beneath his breath, voice laced with frustration, “you’re making it worse.”

But of course, Jimin didn’t hear. He didn’t really acknowledge Jeongguk’s visible awkwardness, as he knew Jeongguk would eventually warm up with a few drinks — or at least thought Jeongguk was grown enough to do so.

As a matter of fact, Jeongguk hadn’t warmed up with a few drinks. 

Instead, his beer sat untouched in front of him, condensation dripping slowly down the side, as if it were taunting him. 

You were still talking to Jimin. Still laughing. And still pulling the attention of everyone in the room without meaning to. Jeongguk had caught at least four guys taking a double take as you waltzed past everyone to the restroom. 

And Jeongguk? He was just there. Stuck in his own head. Watching the way you floated through the room with such grace that it felt illegal to look at you for too long. 

And yeah, maybe it was a bit — no, it was very — stupid of him as he just sat in the corner of the booth, fidgeting with the bracelets on his wrist,a  storm brewing behind his eyes. 

But as if the universe were playing some big cruel joke on him, a song he knew too well started playing from the speakers behind him. 

“Twenty-nine pearls in your kiss 

A singing smile,

Coffee smell and lilac skin

Your flame in me…”                       

Jeongguk was frozen. He knew that song. Of course he did. His scratched-up vinyl was somewhere under his bed, tucked away with the rest of his albums he liked to pull out on nights when his emotions got the best of him. If anyone were to find his collection, Jeongguk would just laugh and offer to put one on. But this specific song was a bit more worn, corners a bit more frayed, because Jeongguk had simply used the vinyl so much that it was begging to be put back and given rest. 

Now, like a memory brandished in front of him, it was playing in public, in real time. The words reverberated in his skull as you threw your head back to laugh at something Jimin said. The delicate curve of your neck matched the lift of your smile, pulling at something deep in Jeongguk’s chest. It hit Jeongguk – this wasn’t a crush. It couldn’t be classified as infatuation. 

Because this was a full-body ache. 

Years of hearing about you and your travels across the world, what jobs you had bounced between, the languages you spoke like they were your mother tongue. The little anecdotes Jimin would filter into every conversation added up over the years – like the time you roamed the streets of Prague lost in the city lights with nothing but a dying phone battery in one hand and heels in the other. Or when you somehow managed to charm a cranky police officer in Tokyo, speaking perfect Japanese without hesitation. All these stories, all these mentions of you over the years had turned you into a slowly building myth in Jeongguk’s mind. You were a legend in his group. 

A soft, golden legend. Who was now sitting in front of him, laughing. Just existing in the same vicinity as him. So real and so devastatingly beautiful. 

Jeongguk didn’t even know what to focus on, his gaze hyper- fixated on your figure. Your dress, delicate straps sloping down your shoulders. Your necklace, sitting perfectly in the hollow of your neck. Every detail was so meticulously curated, from your hair down to your nails, that all Jeongguk could do was stare. He smiled when you smiled. Laughed when you made jokes. Offered to refill your drink, which you kindly accepted. Even Namjoon had noticed Jeongguk’s attention solely directed to you, but a few nudges from him wouldn’t even deter Jeongguk from continuing to shine the spotlight on you. 

“I’ll be waiting right here to show you

How our love will blow it all away…”

The lyrics hit too close to home. God had a sick sense of humour.

Frankly speaking, Jeongguk hadn’t expected to be put in this situation. Hadn’t expected to be looked at the way you did – not when Jimin showed your pictures and certainly not when he mentioned you were tagging along for the night. 

You were Jimin’s friend. Jimin’s closest friend. The kind who whispered secrets under the covers. The kind who knew what each other was thinking before anything was verbalised. The kind that walked into the room and became the air that everyone breathed. And the kind that never lingered for too long, always hooking the attention of people, leading them in a trail of passports and postcards and “Goodbye don’t miss me!” notes.  

And even though Jeongguk knew this when you looked at him – before the embarrassment, and before Jimin began his normal routine of making jokes at Jeongguk – it wasn’t dismissive. There was curiosity in your gaze. A sort of gentleness that Jeongguk hadn’t had the opportunity to really see. Ever. 

And call it cliché, but he felt seen. Not in the normal performative way that others viewed him in — the golden boy title — but something more subdued. Like the world had halted and you had suddenly found yourself at the same frequency he was vibrating on. 

That was the part that hurt.

He couldn’t even decide if there was more jealousy to be channelled towards Jimin – for grasping and attaining your attention so easily – or himself, for knowing how you could look at him. 

And God, the way the song resounded through the bar. 

“I know everybody here wants you,

I know everybody here thinks he needs you…”

Everyone did want you. Jeongguk could sense it in the way people's eyes lingered on you from across the room like you were some kind of celestial being. The way their eyes lit up as you voiced conversations. He was insane for thinking that he even had a sliver of a chance with you – he was too structured, too soft-spoken, and had a deep fear of too much. 

So he sat there, quietly tracing the rim of his glass, unnoticed by the rest, while the music filled the void of what he wanted to say and what he inevitably never would. 

And as your winding, overly animated exchange with Jimin came to an end, your eyes scanned the booth before landing on Jeongguk. You tentatively offered him a small smile, and Jeongguk’s heart flipped in his chest – a sharp, stabbing pain that he would gladly experience a hundred more times, just for you to give that tender smile of yours to him. 

“Everything okay?” you asked calmly, cheeks flushed from the combination of the hot air and alcohol. 

The question wasn’t for others to hear. Wasn’t dramatic and wasn’t loud.  

And Jeongguk - poor, deteriorating Jeongguk - nodded frantically. 

“Yeah. Just, uh… you know… thinking.”

You tilted your head to the side, bangs untucking from behind your ears and falling ever so carefully down your forehead. 

“Dangerous pastime, I’ve heard. Don’t hurt yourself.”

He gave a breathy laugh. 

“Are—“

Jimin stood up abruptly, thighs knocking into the table, causing Jeongguk’s drink to slosh over its rim. 

“Jeonggukie. We gotta go, dude. She’s blowing up my phone again.”

Jimin was already halfway to the door, coat in hand, and evidently in his own world. Jeongguk didn’t move, fingers still absentmindedly circling the glass’ rim. Only when Jimin interrupted with a loud “Jeongguk!” did he jolt out of his daydream — nightdream? It was well past the hours he would be awake, and Jeongguk was feeling the effects of it. 

“I swear to God, Jimin,” he muttered, running a hand down his face, his words drowned out by Jimin’s boisterous antics. The said person was already making his way back over to the booth to pull Jeongguk up, barely giving him a moment to recover. 

Jimin looked at you, a sheepish grin plastered on his face, and laughed out,

“Sorry, Jeongguk’s just a little—” He gestured his hand vaguely to Jeongguk and the pure awkwardness radiating off  him. “Well, I’m sure you can figure it out.”

Jimin winked at him, who could only glare in return and yank his arm out of Jimin’s hold. 

Jeongguk wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or the way the entire bar seemed to blur around you, but as he reached down for his jacket, the weight of his emotions was heavier than ever. His body was stiff, the physical manifestation of every feeling he couldn’t quite place. But you?

 You were just there — your warmth, your presence, the way your gaze lingered on him with that unspoken curiosity, and Jeongguk found himself paralysed.

The moment you were so close to sharing was gone, dissipated in the door Jimin had left open. 

And the perpetrator was already at the door again, texting away like he had zero notion for the turmoil his best friend was experiencing. It was a good thing that Jeongguk had learned over many torturous years  how to silently communicate his frustration to Jimin, because right now it was at an all-time high. 

Jeongguk wanted to say something to you – anything - but, like always, his words failed him when he needed them the most. 

So when he looked back at you to catch one last glance, he found you staring at him – not Namjoon, who was engaging in conversation with you – the smile from earlier lingering on your face. Jeongguk grinned back but couldn’t quite place what your smile meant. Pity? Or… something else? And that goddamn ridiculous song followed him out the door, mocking him for the predicament he was in. 

He had barely taken two steps toward his bike, which Jimin was resting against when he heard the unmistakable whisper of your voice. It travelled through the air and struck a chord, freezing him, breath caught in his throat and the tension that was slowly leaving came back in full force. 

He turned around, eyes scanning the street barely lit by the overhead lamps. His gaze found yours — heart skipping a beat as he saw you standing there, a few feet away, shuffling in the cold. 

You were staring at him — so calmly, so composed — but there was something in the way you looked at him that hadn’t been there before. Maybe it was your drawn-out gaze that lasted just a few seconds too long, or the soft tilt of your head. It was different… but a good different.

“Jeongguk,” you said again, softer this time, like you were testing the air between you. “You left your phone behind.”

His first instinct was to pat the pockets of his jeans, then his jacket. Then he looked up at you, eyes wide with surprise. He smiled that awkward smile of his, like he’d  just been caught cheating in an exam and walked over to you. Your gaze, full of amusement, was locked onto Jeongguk’s figure as he made his way over to you, and he swore he felt you look him up and down — but he didn’t want to feed into the delusion. 

He muttered a small thanks as you handed his phone back to him, but his eyes never left yours. The streetlights shining overhead seemed to illuminate you — a visage kissed by light, highlighting the gentle features of your face:  your delicately sloping nose, the little freckles on your cheeks and the way your hair cascaded over your shoulder like a scarf, woven from midnight and dreams. In Jeongguk’s eyes, you were oneiric, someone spoken of only in myths and tales. 

You took a few steps closer, feet directly opposite Jeongguk’s,  a smile playing on your lips — mischief mingled with something else. Something caring. 

“You looked like you were overwhelmed in there,” you teased, voice but tinged with a softness that made Jeongguk’s chest tighten. 

He let out something between a laugh and a cough, surprised to be caught. Usually he was able to place an impressive façade, but maybe it just wasn’t as good as he thought it was. He fiddled with his jacket, pulling the sleeves over his hands, pretending his skin wasn’t warm to the touch — feverishly red. 

“Yeah…I-I’m fine,” he said, but the words felt foreign on his tongue. He was anything but fine. 

You watched him with a steady gaze and hummed softly, as if trying to figure him out. 

“Are you sure?” you asked, stepping closer. “I don’t want to assume, but it… it didn’t seem like that.”

Jeongguk’s heart thudded against his ribcage — from panic, but something he was yet to identify. How could you have such an impact on him after only just meeting?

"I…" He paused, swallowing the build-up of spit in his throat "I don’t know. I’ve just—" He let out a small, frustrated sigh and ran his hand through his hair. "I guess I was just nervous.”

You blinked, eyes softening in understanding.

“Nervous about what?”

Jeongguk gestured vaguely toward the bar.

"Being around people. Making conversations. I get all... tangled up in my head and forget how to just relax." He laughed, but it wasn’t a funny laugh — more self-deprecating, if he was being honest. "I probably just needed another drink.”

You tilted your head slightly, eyes boring holes into Jeongguk. 

Y’know,” you started, voice closer to a whisper, “Jimin didn’t tell me that about you.”

Jeongguk balked, eyes widening in sudden surprise.

“He talked about me?”

You laughed, ripples of joy escaping your lips, getting lost in the night breeze, and looked up at Jeongguk with a big smile on your face.

“Of course he has.”

He wasn’t sure what to say to that. He figured he should’ve expected it. If Jimin talked endlessly about you to everyone, then surely he’d talk about Jeongguk as well, right?

All the awful stories that had accumulated over the years on drunken nights, the occasional nights fuelled by pure adrenaline, and the nights he would rather not bring up rushed back into Jeongguk’s head. He fought the urge to groan. Goddamnit, Jimin.

You shrugged, the playful glint in your eye never fading. “I know a lot more about you than you think, Jeonggukie. Jimin just doesn’t keep his mouth shut.”

You paused, taking in his bewildered expression.

“And I know you know about me too.”

That was the last straw—the final piece of décor on the cake. Jeongguk hung his head in embarrassment. All that, and he still managed to fuck up his first impression.

You didn’t say anything for a moment, just letting the silence wrap around you both—and the awkwardness around Jeongguk. There was something serene in the air between you, a quiet understanding that perhaps you weren’t really strangers.

And then you moved—just barely, but enough to close the space between you two, causing your shoes to brush the tips of his.

Jeongguk froze.

Gone was the laughter in your eyes. But it wasn’t replaced with mockery. It was curiosity. Raw curiosity, almost like you were inviting him to say something he’d been festering on all night.

Then your voice, soft and harmonious:

“Maybe next time… try saying hi before your nervous system gives up.”

A laugh bubbled up from his chest, the first genuine one of the day—lifting some of the weight he had been unconsciously carrying.

You smiled at him like you meant it and ever so carefully inched your hand out to brush a strand of hair from his forehead.

Jeongguk stood still, phone still clutched in his hand, grip tighter than ever, and nodded slowly. Your hand slowly made its way down and rested on his jaw a few seconds too long—long enough for Jeongguk to get nervous, red tainting the tips of his ears. Thank God it was dark.

“Okay,” he breathed out shakily. “Next time.”

You took a step back, hands clasped behind your back, eyes still on his. “I’ll keep you to that, Jeongguk.”

Then you turned, hair catching the light like strands of spun gold, and made your way back to the bar—leaving behind the soft smell of jasmine and a boy who could finally breathe.

Art exhibitions were one of Jeongguk’s favourite places to be. At first, he only came because Namjoon would plead him to come — to which he would, begrudgingly — but overtime he had come to find peace in the simplicity of the experience and was constantly finding new ones to go to (with Jimin as well).

The gallery was picturesque, with soft, warm lighting — strangely reminding Jeongguk of the night with you outside the bar – with the shadows across the walls where canvases breathed tales in splashes of watercolour and acrylic. The air had the subtle after-scent of paint and polished wood, mingled with faint undertones of perfumes and freshly opened bottles of wines.

Jeongguk was lingering near a large painting – an explosive composition of blues and reds, very much paying a homage to the inner disarray he had been experiencing over the last few weeks. 

First, hearing from Jimin that you were on a flight to god knows where less than twelve hours after your initial meeting quickly dampened his giddy mood. He was hoping to see you again — even just for a quick coffee— but was now stuck resorting to stalking to your Instagram. 

He couldn’t even do that properly, considering your account was strictly private and Jeongguk felt that he wasn’t at that level of status with you. He couldn’t even stalk from Jimin’s phone because he knew that his best friend wouldn’t keep his gob shut and would relay the information back to you in less than two minutes. So he was stuck with his memories. Which was quite poor, considering how tired he was on that darned night, but your face and the lingering smell of you was enough —for now.

What made this indescribable feeling of yearning worse was the fact that Jimin didn’t even know when you’d be back. Seriously. What was he even useful for? Despite all the claims of knowing you the best, he never once thought to figure out your spontaneity — or at least tried to make rough estimations based on patterns. If Jeongguk ever tried to slip your name in a conversation (very discreetly—at least he thought so), Jimin would just laugh to himself and mutter some incoherent words before going back to typing furiously on his phone. Literally. That’s all he would do. 

It was frustrating to Jeongguk to no end, but he learnt to keep his mouth shut and instead wallow in the idea of what could be (which really wasn’t looking like much)

So, he figured he would distract himself with what he knew best. And no, it wasn’t the gym—even though it came a close second—but it was the tranquillity of these small art galleries, the ones that were tucked away in the quietest streets, waiting for travellers to settle inside and welcome a new world 

He always liked being the one to pursue things, not the one being sought for.

Thus, he stood in a quiet corner of the room, hands tucked into his pockets, body stiff and mind racing with thoughts. He told himself that this was a casual event, but he couldn’t help but put on his best dress shoes—and yes, he might’ve gelled his hair a bit and put on his best black shirt, but it made him feel good. He needed this boost of confidence considering how pathetic he had felt lately and dressing up to have somewhat done the trick. 

But it still didn’t stop the unease running through him. It was unsettling – he wasn’t one to feel nervous in a place he found comfort, but there was something about the air that made tonight’s exhibition a bit more… lonely. 

Perhaps it was the fact that Namjoon and Jimin had ditched him for their dates—he didn’t even know that it was allowed in friend group meetups, but… it wasn’t like he had one anyway. 

And like someone had just replaced the tonearm on a continuous vinyl, the very song that Jeongguk had been trying to avoid filtered through the speakers once more and wandered over to his ears.  

…it had to be a joke. Right? No way this song was following him around like it had a warrant on him. Seriously. He had no idea what he had done to deserve this torture, and frankly, he didn’t have the mental strength to think about it. 

Jeongguk didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Didn’t take his hand out of his pockets. Just stared at the painting like he was trying to be absorbed by it, disappear amongst the weird, colourful swirls and blend in to hide from whatever divine intervention was going on around him, just preying on him in his most pitiful moments. 

“I know everybody here wants you…”

He tightened his jaw, muscles fluttering in annoyance. 

It was decided. The universe had a sick, personal vendetta against him. How the hell did this song play everytime his thoughts drifted to you? Sure he might’ve thought of you more often than he’d like to admit, but he was trying to distract himself, goddamnit!

He huffed. Not even the multitude of colours in front of him could tug his attention from you. 

It wasn’t really about the song. Not really. It was more so to do with what it meant to him. 

The night outside the bar. 

The way you caressed his hair even though he wanted it to lay like that. 

The way you whispered his name like it was a secret between the two of you

The way you saw him.

And then— the way you left as quickly as you came.

He barely got to say his goodbye. You were there one minute, and suddenly he had blinked, and you were gone. All that was left was the feeling of your fingertips grazing his skin and the filtered story that Jimin showed you with a geotag somewhere oceans away. 

Jeongguk exhaled slowly, trying to collect his thoughts. He wasn’t in love or anything he was past the stage of teenage limerence. 

…Right?

A soft clack of heels pulled him from the drifting seas of his mind.

He didn’t react at first. Footsteps were common in galleries, voices humming like bees in fields of sunflowers. But there was something different about the rhythm. It made the hairs on his neck stand straight up. There was delicacy behind the footfalls nearing him.

He turned.

And nearly forgot how to fucking breathe.

You.

Long black dress, tan coat slung over your shoulder, and your hair just effortlessly pooling down your back like ink in water. 

“And our eyes are locked in downcast love…”

Your eyes met his, the twinkle in them almost blinding him before he could pretend to look away and be interested in anything else.

For a moment, neither of you moved. The song, of course, droned on in the background like a cruel soundtrack to his unbecoming.

You tilted your head, lips lifting into a knowing smile, like you were fully aware of the effect you had on Jeongguk, even by just standing there. Just by simultaneously coexisting in front of him.

“Jeongguk.”

He swore you said his name like it was yours.

“You’re here,” was all he managed. His words were barely spoken, drifting like mist and condensing on the painting next to him. Honestly, it felt a bit pathetic—what he said—but you smiled wider, nonetheless.

“Jimin slipped it into conversation,” you replied, stepping closer. He could see the glitter you lined your eyes with. “Told me you’ve been moping around in galleries like a sad little poet.”

He groaned, running a hand down his face. “No, he didn’t.”

“Oh, he did,” you laughed a little. “Even told me that you wore your ‘special’ shoes tonight.”

Jeongguk looked down, half expecting his brogues to start sinking into the ground out of sheer humiliation.

You stopped beside him, nudging him softly. “I like them.”

His laugh was disbelieving—the kind that crinkled the skin around his eyes and displayed the little freckle under his lip.

“Didn’t think you were gonna be back anytime soon,” he said quietly, hoping in the way he phrased it.

You shrugged. “Only for a little while. Maybe longer.”

He wasn’t sure what to say. He’d spent months thinking about all the things he might’ve said if you were ever in his presence again, but now that you really were—so achingly near, close enough to smell that jasmine scent again—his brain had fried itself and was devoid of any thoughts.

But you, as always, were the lighthouse in a storm.

“Hi,” you simply said. This wasn’t a greeting. It was a reset.

Jeongguk swallowed nervously.

“Hi.”

Joy bloomed in the creases by your eyes.

“See? That wasn’t so hard.”

He smiled at you sheepishly.

You turned your attention to the painting he’d been staring at before—the chaotic mix of colours that had once mirrored his internal disarray. He glanced at it and noticed how the mess seemed to fade towards the edge into two distinct lines of tranquillity. Huh.

“It’s pretty intense,” you said, studying the canvas.

“Yeah,” Jeongguk replied. “S’pose that makes sense, though.”

You glanced at him. “Because you’re feeling like it?”

He hesitated. Then nodded. “You kinda… do that to me.”

Your smile wavered for a millisecond—not in a bad way. In a breath-caught kind of way. A quiet pause before your expression softened.

“Good,” you whispered. “Because you—”

The ringing of your name being called across the gallery ceased the little conversation you were having.

You sighed, eyebrows furrowing, and looked over.

Jeongguk reluctantly tore his gaze from your face and followed yours over to see a man striding over. He was tall. Well-dressed. And very clearly knew you, the way he sauntered over, arms wide open in welcome. His coat flared slightly as he walked to your corner and had that laid-back, easy grin that made Jeongguk’s eye twitch in irritation.

Without hesitation, you stepped towards him, situating yourself into his arms that wrapped all the way around you. It was déjà vu—the way the hug looked so familiar to him. It was too close. And too long.

Jeongguk stood motionless.

His hands hung awkwardly at his sides, fingers alternating between being clenched into fists or flexing involuntarily with nerves… or something more. He tried to understand what the hell was happening in front of him—and what you were on the verge of saying—but he was all too distracted by the lack of space between you and that stranger.

When you finally pulled away, the guy leaned in to say something close to your ear. Jeongguk didn't miss the way your eyes flickered briefly back to him and away, like it never happened. You faltered.

“I’ll be back in a second,” you told him quickly, that ever-present softness in your voice still lingering, but dimmed. “I’ll catch you later, Jeonggukie, okay?”

He nodded. Tried to smile, but it came out more like a wince. Tried to let the sting not pierce his skin too deeply.

“Sure,” he replied. “Later.”

And with that, you walked off, arm in the stranger’s, and Jeongguk’s heart in your hand.

His posture sagged in small defeat, and he glanced towards Jimin, who was nearing him, sipping his wine and observing the turmoil Jeongguk was experiencing.

Jimin caught his eyes and raised a singular eyebrow with a smirk.

“Are you just gonna stand there?”

Jeongguk forced out a bitter laugh and brought his hands into his pockets.

“I’m fine.”

He knew he was lying. Jimin knew he was lying. The random women giving him a look as they walked past knew he was lying as well.

Every laugh that flowed from your lips felt like a knife digging into an old wound. When the stranger brushed a small strand of your hair behind your ear, Jeongguk scoffed, pushing his tongue against the inside of his cheek and looked away.

He found himself shuffling closer to Jimin, letting the small talk between him and his best friend become a barrier to hide behind.

Your eyes met his once across the room, and you offered him a small smile—but Jeongguk looked away before the moment could unfold into anything more. Instead, he watched you weave in and out of the crowd, integrating into fruitless conversation yet still capturing the attention of everyone in the room.

“Maybe I should’ve asked who he was,” Jeongguk muttered under his breath to Jimin, who just chuckled and patted his shoulder.

“Chill, man,” he teased. “You’ll see her again. I’m sure.”

Jeongguk wanted to believe it—really he did—but it was hard to when that ‘later’ never came.

You disappeared into the night with the man—that Jeongguk never figured out the name of—like mist beneath the stars. And Jeongguk had waited, eyes constantly scanning the gallery until closing. Even helped the staff clean up the bar and stack some chairs, just in case you popped back in.

You didn’t.

Jeongguk was seething.

Well—not exactly seething. More so… mildly agitated. The kind of agitation that was so close to spilling over the surface and onto everyone around him.

The house was too warm.

The people too loud.

The lights too dim.

He wasn't even sure why he was there– sure it was his house, but Namjoon had convinced him to host a small party with familiar faces, ‘friends-of-friends’ so he would finally loosen up.

He’d spent the last half of the hour sipping on the same drink and dodging the half-drunk people that attempted to make conversation with him. 

That, and the god-awful playlist Jimin had put on. It was like Jimin was stuck being heartbroken or pumping his fist at a rave with the kind of music you just had to vibe with.

 And currently Jeongguk did not vibe with it. 

He kinda nodded his head to heartbreak songs though - he supposed he could relate just a tad. 

He hadn’t heard from you since the night at the gallery.

 Nothing. 

And it’s not like you were obligated to - numbers weren’t even exchanged - but Jeongguk’s hope was a persistent little bastard that maybe, just maybe thought you would ask Jimin for his number and check up on him.

And it wasn’t like Jeongguk hadn’t tried the same. He gave up on the subtle hints to Jimin and had straight up asked for your number, even though he was turned down - rather quickly- with the words,

“If it was meant to be, she would come to give it to you herself.”

Jeongguk sighs at the memory, nursing his drink and glaring into the clear liquid as if it had caused him personal anguish. The laughter of those around him fades in and out of his hearing. Everything is duller, like the colour had been vacuumed out from the room. He’s partly tempted to pull an Irish goodbye at his own party and just leave. Maybe grab his walkman on the way out to play a song that didn’t emotionally scar him.

But then he sees you.

You, standing by the kitchen island, in conversation with Namjoon. You, lit like a spotlight found you despite the purposely dim lighting. And you, head tipped back slightly, laughing at something Namjoon is saying. Gone is the tan coat, replaced by an off- the- shoulder black top that clings to your figure. Gone are the effortless waves, swapped for your hair pinned back, emphasising the delicate nature of your neck.

Jeongguk freezes, glass halfway to his mouth, breath lodging in his throat. You looked dreamlike, standing out amongst the crowd, like an advert he’d seen on television one too many times. He wouldn’t dare to skip out on you— not after knowing the smile you could give him.

When did you get here?

He doesn’t even realise Jimin has slipped into the little corner of the couch that Jeongguk was practically sprawled on until a shoulder nudges his own.

“You’re doing it again,” Jimin teases, sounding far too happy considering his playlist.

“What thing?” Jeongguk hisses, eyes locking onto the way you seamlessly flit around the kitchen.

“The ‘I’ve-dreamed-about-her-every-day-and-can’t-believe-she’s-here’ thing.”

Jeongguk scowls and shoves Jimin lightly, but his eyes don't stray. You haven’t noticed him yet. 

He can’t decide if that’s  mercy or torment.

“She knows, doesn’t she?” he asks.

The smug silence of his friend is enough.

“She asked me if you’d ever want to see her face again. I said you were a sucker for pretty faces and that she should come and find out for herself.”

Jeongguk gapes. 

“You’re such a menace.”

“Well it worked, didn’t it? She’s here. In the flesh.” Jimin grins, clapping a hand down on Jeongguk’s back. “Maybe she wanted free drinks. Or… see you.”

Jeongguk ignores Jimin’s banter, eyes still tracking your every movement. The way your fingers tap against your glass. Or the way your gaze occasionally drifts from whoever you were talking to, and sweeps across the room —but never quite meets his. 

And still, Jeongguk doesn’t approach you. Can't get himself to move up from that sofa. The weight in his chest keeps him tethered down. The unspoken words claw at his throat like before.

So he sips his drink. And waits.

The party hums around him, low and warm like the static of one of his vinyls that was left on  too long. 

You pass by him once, ever so briefly.

And in that one incandescent moment, your hand brushes his — hanging over the back of the couch—as you slide past on the way to the hallway. He doesn’t look up, but he knows it’s you, he feels it’s you. The absence of your touch shouldn’t linger the way it does

He doesn’t see where you go. Doesn’t even register why he’s following the scent of your perfume until his feet lead him to the hallway. Past the kitchen, past the shoes by the door, and away from the loud thrum of the party.

The bathroom door near the back end of his apartment iss half-open, an amber glow spilling through.

He raps his knuckles against the door.

“Occupied?”

A soft voice calls out.

“Yeah - give me a sec!”

But that voice…he knows it. He knows it too well.

Jeongguk pushes the door slightly - just a little further.

And there you are. Standing at the mirror, fingers fixing the wing of your eyeliner, with the smallest concentration crease forming between your brows. You see him in the reflection and halt your actions.

“Sorry-” he starts, already turning around to go back.

But you spin around, swiping a finger across the corner of your eyes.

“Wait Jeongguk.”

He freezes. The air is heavy, electricity tingling in the way that makes the space feel so much smaller than it already is..

“I was gonna leave,” you say after a beat, eyes searching his. “I…I didn't think you wanted to talk to me.”

“I thought you didn’t.”

A momentary pause. The tension doesn’t dissipate, only grows thicker, encircling the two of you like entertainment in a cage.

“I was waiting,” you start, “I didn’t want to interrupt. I wasn’t sure if…”

You don’t finish your sentence.

Jeongguk steps in. Closes the door behind him with a muted click.

“You came,” he murmurs, voice barely a decibel above a breath.

You smile at him. “I was told by a certain someone that if I wanted your number, I should come get it myself.”

Jeongguk gives a quiet laugh and steps closer to you.

“Funny. I was also told something similar. What are the chances it was the same person?”

You move forward, and lean up to him.

“A hundred percent.”

Your laughter at his expression is more subdued this time, eyes fluttering down to the space between you both—or the lack of. It’s close. So close. He can smell the fragrance radiating off of you, the floral scent ingrained into his head. He’s not sure if  it’s his pulse or yours echoing so loudly in the confined room.

“I was going to ask for it,” you say, voice softer now. “At the gallery.”

“I wanted to kiss you,” Jeongguk blurts.

It slips out. Honest. Raw. And unguarded.

Your eyes snap up to his, plush lips parting slightly, startled but… not afraid. Not uncomfortable.

“Why didn’t you?”

“You left with someone else.”

You nod. “That wasn’t what you think.”

Jeongguk doesn’t want to ask. He doesn’t want to ruin this moment. He’ll face the repercussions later—as long as he’s allowed in your presence for more than twenty minutes.

Your hands move. Brush down your sides, like you’re trying to ground yourself. Or preparing for something. His hands twitch. He wants to touch you. He wants to remember how your fingers felt against his jaw. But he waits. Waits for you to make the first move.

He’s done seeking first.

Your hand lifts slowly to his chest, palm lying flat over his sternum, right where his heartbeat betrays him. You can feel it. He’s sure.

“You’re still nervous,” you whisper.

“I’ve never wanted something so bad in my life.”

The air cracks.

Your fingers slide up lazily. Up to the collar of his shirt  Tugging him. Testing the waters.

“Hi,” you say.

That’s all he needs.

He’s moving before he can process his actions, lips pressing to yours in a kiss that doesn’t ask permission—but it doesn’t need to. It’s slow at first. Hesitant. Like he’s making sure you’re  really there. That this isn’t another cruel memory that would fade before he even woke up.

But when you sigh against his mouth, tilting your head just enough and nudging your nose against his—

Something inside of him explodes.

His hands find your waist, pulling you flush against him, mouth pressing with more desperation, tongue sweeping past your lips when you part them with a soft whimper that nearly undoes him. Your hands  tangle in his hair, anchoring yourself as he kisses you like he’d been waiting a lifetime.

The counter is cold against the back of your thighs as he lifts you onto it, barely stopping to catch his breath. His hand wedges around your hips, thumbs dragging across the sliver of skin where your shirt rides up.

You gasp into his mouth as he pulls you closer, chest to chest, heat unfurling between you like a wildfire.

He pulls back when you tug lightly on his hair, lips red and kiss-swollen, eyes hazy but focused.

“Hi,” you breathe out.

Jeongguk grins against your mouth.

“Hi baby,”

He reaches behind him, turning the lock on the door before moving for you again. His hands move with a practiced ease - the nerves from before nowhere to be found - as his hands slip under the hem of your shirt, warm fingers tracing the soft curve of your waist. His lips never leave yours, kisses rougher now, and more urgent.

Your breath mingles with his, hands clenching the fabric of his shirt, drawing him in closer, a siren in disguise.

His body presses firmly against yours, hips aligning, heat between you flaring.

With a quiet grunt, Jeongguk shifts, lifting you higher on the counter. His hands roam lower, fingers teasing the edge of your skirt, fingers dipping below the waistband. You arch into his touch, breath hitching and fingers tightening.

His mouth finds your jaw and he trails down, nipping gently before moving again - neck, collarbone, the skin below your shirt - a trail of fire in his wake.

Your fingers tangle in his hair once more, tugging, urging him deeper and harder. Jeongguk’s hands drift beneath your skirt, skimming the smoothness of your skin— inching toward that sensitive spot that makes you shiver.

He looks up at you, knees resting on the ground. Neither of you speak. The world’s shrunk to the heat of skin on skin, and the desperation laced into your frantic breaths.

He lifts your skirt up tentatively, eyes meeting yours in a silent ask. You nod. Oh how badly you need this.

Jeongguk’s fingers rub against your hip bones as he inches forwards. He presses soft kisses up your thigh, pausing when he meets your sweet spot.

“Jeongguk,” you whisper, voice shaky with anticipation.

He nudges his nose against you, “I’m here.”

He glances up at you once more, long enough to meet your eyes - dark, smouldering, and utterly focused on you - before diving in again. His tongue brushes against your underwear, rubbing up against you in a slow, teasing dance, exploring the promise in every touch.

You cry out, hands tightening at the edge of the counter, legs fighting the urge to close around his head. Jeongguk clamps his hands around your outer thighs, stabilising and ruining you at the same time.

He smiles against the lace of your underwear as you grip his hair, tongue lapping up any hint of your approaching climax. He licks deeper and triumphs as you call his name out once more, thighs trembling by his ears.

Burrowing himself deeper under your skirt, he almost halts his actions.

What if you think that he only wanted you for sex? What if this is a fleeting moment that won’t be rediscovered?

But before the irrational thoughts can settle, your hands pull on his hair, begging for him to come back up. He complies, clambering up, shaking his knees out and looks at you.

Meeting your tear stricken eyes, guilt settles in his chest,

“Are you-”

“I need you in me. Now. Jeongguk…please.”

And there it is.

His chest tightens like a wave crashing against the shore, relentless and full of emotion. This isn’t just affection he feels for you, this is an all-consuming force that pushes past reason.

He nods and reaches for his jeans. Doesn’t bother with pulling his jeans all the way off, just slides them down past his butt. Reaches for his length, stiff with need and leaking with arousal.

 One. Two. Three pumps and he grasps for the back of your thighs before pushing into you. He lets out a low moan into your ear, loudening as you squeeze around him. He falls forwards, hands falling beside you.

“B-baby, don’t do that, I’ll finish,” he murmurs along your neck, nibbling gently at the column of your throat.

Your arms clasp around his neck, nails clawing at his shoulders.

“Sorry… I’m just nervous,”

Jeongguk leans back. Smiles down at you and reaches for your hand. Fingers spanning the entirety of your wrist, he places your palm against his heart, mimicking your actions before.

“Me too,”

You melt at his words. Literally. Jeongguk feels you loosen up around him, nails no longer digging half crescents into his skin. He lets out a short breath and pulls back to the tip, before pressing into you again… and again.

You moan, head tilting back, one hand holding his, resting on your waist, the other, turning white with how tightly you were gripping the counter.

Jeongguk grabs the back of your neck, encouraging you to meet his eyes. He had your attention now —only his—and he wasn’t going to lose it.

There’s something so vulnerable about this position. Neither of you are fully unclothed, but you’re practically baring your hearts to each other.

Setting a steady pace, Jeongguk snaps his hips into you, grunting with every thrust, moving you further up the ledge next to the sink. He reaches around for your ass and pulls you closer. The movement shifts your positions slightly, where he’s deeper, and firmer inside of you..

“J-Jeongguk,” you rasp.

He thrusts harder, lewd noises of skin meeting skin filling the air.  Reaches down and rubs a finger against you,

“Come on baby. You can do it,”

Your back arches, curving into Jeongguk’s hands as you release—hot, sticky cum coating him and the inside of your thighs. You pulse frantically around him, pushing him forwards, moaning as your orgasm rips through you. 

Your arms give out, collapsing against the mirror above the sink with a broken whimper as you try and come down from your high.

“Oh fuck,” Jeongguk groans, pulling out, leaving you mourning the loss of him inside of you.

He jerks himself, hand fisted tightly around his cock, wrists moving with a rapid pace, hips stuttering and he chases his own climax.

You watch with bated breaths as his head tilts back, lip bitten raw in pleasure. A deep groan escapes him as his pace slows down, hips twitching forwards and he spills across your thighs in thick ropes. He fucks himself through his orgasm, one hand holding yours as he paints your skin milky.

He exhales as the last of his cum leaks out, and lets go of your hands to wipe the sweat lining his forehead.

He meets your eyes and lets out a little chuckle.

Leans forwards and pecks your nose. Your cheek. And then your forehead . You giggle at him and reach for a towel - to which he snatches it out of your hands, before running it under hot water. He swipes it across your thighs in gentle strokes, like he didn't just obliterate you and cleans himself up.

He pulls his jeans up, buckles his belt and pulls down your skirt. Reaching for your waist, he helps you hop off the counter.

You move towards the door, but he pulls you back. 

You meet his eyes. He swallows.

“I don’t want this to end. Ever.”

You look at him through your lashes and tuck a strand of his hair back.

“I’m gonna need your number first baby.”

Jeongguk grins, a smile lighting up his face as he wrenches the door open, hurrying for his phone that he left around somewhere.

Sunlight spills softly through the blind, casting warm stripes across the room where Jeongguk lies, you tucked under his arm. The quiet buzz of the city is distant, an otherworldly place that you’ve both stepped away from for a while. His arm rests loosely over your waist, arms sliding the hem of his t-shirt up as he traces small circles on your thigh.

For once, the voracious thoughts that constantly plagued his mind seem to have quietened down, leaving the calm weight of you beside him and the thrilling, quiet certainty of what happened last night.

You meet his eyes, and he smiles, dimples burrowing in his cheeks. No words are exchanged. This moment - this morning - is enough.

Jeongguk nudges his nose against yours,

“Can you accept my instagram request?”

You look up at him, eyebrows drawn together in confusion,

“Wha-”

The door creaks open and Jimin steps inside with an infuriatingly wide grin.

He laughs, breaking the tranquility of the morning. 

“By the way, Jeonggukie, I know what your favourite song is.”

Jeongguk stares at him, processing his words as Jimin’s teasing smile grows bigger.

“Okay?”

“And I’m also really good at making people play whatever songs I want.”

Jeongguk freezes. No way. He can’t be… that fucking little-

[iboozi]

jungkook new chest tattoo?? i fear im gonna collapse

[iboozi]

“Hello, this is Suga. I feel like it's been so long since I got to greet you. Army, have you been doing well? I've been spending my time waiting for the day I get to see you again. I miss you so much. I love you, everyone.” -Yoongi ; post ; trans

hearing his voice for the first time since he left just made my heart burst all the way open. he sounds like he always did. we’re gonna be okay. so, very okay.

[iboozi]

j-hope ‘Killin' It Girl (feat. GloRilla)’ Official MV

[iboozi]

500 notes???? On one of my works???

I’m actually in awe because I started writing out of fun and a way to express myself, but I didn’t expect all of this 🙂‍↕️

Thanks!!!! 🪩💗

[iboozi]

MY SHAYLAAAA