#jk I’ll have to at some point | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sparklingchim · 3 months ago

Text

next move; m | jjk

pairing: jungkook x reader

word count: 13.7k

tropes: hockeyplayer!jungkook, richgirlie!oc, college!au, fwb, brother's best friend

rating: 18+

warnings: alcohol consumption, lots of teasing, jk hooking up with someone else 🤢, oc goes a bit insane <3, smoking (ew), angry koo 😠, messy blow job, spit, cum on boobies, gagging, multiple orgasms, cum play, dick slaps on face n pussy, doggy, overstimulation, dirty talk, eating out, hair pulling, mirror sex, doggy, a few spanks, sum butt stuff, oc is addicted to shopping 🫂 (we both need help), pretends to help with uni stuff just to get dick, naughty thoughts abt jk at dinner with friends??, vulnerable oc <3, proud jk <3

summary: pov: you’ve spent so long pushing jungkook away, but now you’re the one trying to pull him back in.

a/n: i hope this feeds ur tummies well ! 😋

masterlist

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“What is wrong with you?”

These being the first words Taehyung directs at you when you enter the kitchen at 9 in the morning makes you want to claw his eyes out and head back to bed again.

“I’d fight you if I wasn’t sleepy right now,” you mutter as you shove past him to get to the coffee machine.

“No, I’m being for real,” Taehyung says, inspecting you through critical eyes.

“I’m not wearing make-up. Get over it.”

“It’s not that,” he presses. “You’ve been acting strange the past few days.”

He catches you off-guard with that. You can’t think of a lie fast enough to cover up the fact that you’ve been kinda dumped by his best friend and are no longer fuck buddies, hard times, so you blink a few times to keep your composure.

Your brain, struggling to function at this hour, lands on the most groundbreaking response: “Huh?”

“You didn’t want chicken when I asked if I should bring you some yesterday.” Taehyung crosses his arms, leaning against the counter.

“I already ate when you called,” you quickly – maybe too quickly? You don’t know – defend yourself as you watch the coffee stream into your mug.

“Right. Tell me one time – just one – where you’ve turned down chicken.” He raises an eyebrow. “By the way, I still got you some. It’s in the fridge. But I knew something was up, because you never-”

“Wait, really?” you cut him off, perking up. “You got me chicken?”

You rush to the fridge, flinging the door open. There isn’t much in there to begin with, so it’s easy to spot your beloved meal. You grab it and get it ready for the microwave.

Taehyung completely ignores your excitement over the food and continues his questioning.

“You didn’t react when I switched one of your reality tv shows for something else the other day.”

Did he? You don’t even remember that happening.

“You came home after a long day. I was just being a sweet sister,” you deflect, waving him off.

“Point is – I can tell when my baby sister is sad. And I don’t need you to feign indifference for me, because it’s okay not to be okay,” he says, gentle. “And I wish you’d come to me about whatever this is to make you feel better, because, I don’t know, I thought that’s what we’ve been doing as siblings.”

Your heart squeezes.

He just wants to comfort you. Be there for you. And it clearly pains him that you’ve been keeping this from him.

“No, yeah, I know, it’s just.” God, you hate this. Having to lie to him. “It’s honestly not that serious, Tae. I’m just being dramatic about it, you know how I am.” You try to laugh it off, but he doesn’t let it deceive him.

“It’s about a boy, isn’t it?”

You need to tweak your acting skills. And your reactions too, because why did you look away after he asked you that?

“A boy?” You stretch the word out in an exaggerated drag to make his inquisition sound ridiculous. “There’s no boy in my life.”

“If I find out Eunwoo is causing trouble, I’ll-”

“God, no.” You shake your head vehemently. “He’s fine. He’s not doing anything.”

You retrieve the chicken from the microwave and set it next to your coffee. A questionable breakfast choice, but right now, comfort food is comfort food.

“Want some?” you offer, grabbing your chopsticks.

Taehyung sighs deeply, shaking his head. His lips press into a thin line, but there’s no anger – just concern softening his features. “Wanna talk about it?” He pauses, voice dropping lower. “Who do I have to fight?”

Your stupid best friend, who walked out on me because, apparently, he doesn’t like it when I’m with other boys and was so dramatic about it, but I lowkey do understand him because I don’t like seeing him with other girls too but I can’t tell him because I don’t want him to know that I care and maybe everything is my fault but I am sad and upset and I can’t tell you anything about it because you’d hate me for it.

You keep these thoughts to yourself though and bite into a piece of chicken instead.

“Tae, no.”

“To both of my questions?”

“Mhm-hmm,” you answer with your mouth full.

His shoulders slump in defeat.

Placing your chopsticks down, you step forward and wrap your arms around him.

“You’re an amazing brother, Tae,” you mumble against his chest. “And I promise that I’m doing fine. You’d know if I wasn’t. I think I’m just getting my period soon, honestly. I’ve been hating everything and everyone lately.” You squeeze him tight. “But I love you.”

“I love you,” he replies, resting his chin on your head. “You’d come to me if you needed me, right?”

“Of course. I love to annoy you about my problems.”

You feel his chuckle rumble through his chest.

“You’re coming to dinner with us after the game, right?”

You draw you head back slightly, peering up at him.

“Define us.”

Taehyung’s brows knit together.

“Like, everyone.”

You so don’t want to see Jungkook. It’s been a week since he left you confused in your room.

Detangling yourself from Taehyung, you shoot him an unimpressed pout. “I don’t know if I’m in the mood for that many people.”

“I’m not gonna let you lock yourself up in your room, ___,” he says, a slight edge creeping into his voice. “You can bedrot another day.”

He’s right – you probably should socialise a little more. And with so many people around, you might not even notice Jungkook’s presence.

“I’ll come,” you relent defeatedly, picking up your tray with breakfast. “Good luck with the game.” You reach up on your tippy toes to ruffle his hair with your free hand, earning an exasperated groan from him.

So, when you thought you could just ignore Jungkook at dinner, you failed to consider one crucial detail – the universe lives to humble you. Because, of course, out of all the empty seats, he had to take the one right next to you. Rookie mistake. Amateur behaviour. A tragic miscalculation on your part.

Now, you’re stuck playing the world’s most intense game of Pretending He Doesn’t Exist, which, unfortunately, is pretty difficult when he’s breathing in your general direction.

“Can you guys believe that I got a C for my essay?” Seokjin announces after chomping down a big piece of meat.

“Was it the one with the ducks?” Jungkook questions.

“Yeah, I was so excited to hand it in ‘cause I had so much fun writing, and then I get a C.” Seokjin tilts his head in remorse. “I was at a Lotte World parking lot when I got the notification, and it felt like someone stole my firstborn. I hope that never happens to me, I don’t think I could go through the emotions a second time. Honestly, not even the bumper cars could distract me after that.”

“Sure you don’t wanna sign up for drama class?” Taehyung teases. “You’d be such an asset to it.”

“I’m so close to doing it.”

“Wait, you wrote an essay about ducks?” you ask.

“Not just about ducks, silly,” Seokjin explains. “I wrote an essay on whether someone would rather fight 100 duck-sized horses or 1 horse-sized duck. You know, deep stuff like answering questions if it is morally better to fight one large opponent or many small ones.”

“What would the world do without you, Jin,” Yoongi chimes in.

“I’d choose one horse-sized duck, I think,” Eunji says, who thankfully sits next to you, so you’re not completely surrounded by people who you dislike (yes, you might’ve forced her to come with you – she wanted to study in the library, but you dragged her here with the promise of showering her with your never-ending love).

“But a duck so big is scary, no?” you ponder, tapping your chopsticks against your mouth as you think.

Listening in on your conversation, Jungkook says, “The horse-sized duck would be easier.”

You frown, turning to him. “That thing would be massive, and it’s a duck. Ducks are unpredictable.”

“Okay, but 100 duck-sized horses would overwhelm you,” he argues. “You’re assuming they’re just gonna stand there like cute little ponies. What if they’re really aggressive? They’d be all over you, biting, kicking. That’s chaotic.”

“How would you manage fighting a huge duck, though? I don’t see that happening,” you scoff.

“I’m not saying it wouldn’t be hard, but at least it’s just one thing to focus on. It’s straightforward.” Jungkook leans back, dragging his gaze over your face before he says, “But of course you’d prefer the more chaotic solution.”

You raise your eyebrows. “What are you on about?”

You’re talking about ducks and horses. Or so you thought.

Jungkook shrugs. “Nothing. I just think your decision is stupid.”

His eyes don’t waver, and you don’t back down either, because what the hell? Jungkook’s picking a fight over nonsense and has the audacity to glare at you like you personally offended him. His brows are drawn tight, frustration evident in the sharpness of his expression.

As you glare back, you can’t stop your brain from taking an unexpected detour to memories in which Jungkook wore a similar expression. On top of you, a little sweaty, cheeks flushed and – oh my god, you feel the heat rush to your cheeks and swiftly turn away.

“You’re annoying,” you mumble under your breath, picking up your chopsticks again.

Where did these thoughts come from? Do you miss him? It’s been one week. You need a distraction.

"See how riveting my essay topic is?” Seokjin chimes in, pointing his chopsticks at the two of you. “A C is criminally underappreciated.”

“I don’t think anyone can get under ___ skin like Jungkook,” Taehyung chuckles, placing more meat onto your plate.

“Oh no, don’t worry, you still take the first place,” you quip.

“Don’t say that too loud. Jungkook’s too competitive.”

“He’s a mini version of you.” You turn to Jungkook when you say it, scrunching your nose to display your dismay.

“There’s nothing mini about Jungkook,” Yoongi interjects.

The boys laugh while Eunji and you choke on your food.

“Okay, gross?” Eunji coughs.

“What? Have you not seen his muscles? He’s a big guy,” Seokjin defends, eyes wide as he studies Jungkook’s physique. “That’s no secret.”

“That’s why Sooyoung wants him again,” Jimin teases with a wicked grin stretching across his face.

“Oh, fuck off.” Jungkook kicks him under the table. “I said we’re not talking about this.”

At the mention of a name that rings a bell but you can't quite place it yet – one Jungkook clearly doesn’t want brought up – you perk up. “Not talking about what?”

It’s silent next to you.

Jungkook tenses, his posture stiff, the only giveaway a rough, forced clearing of his throat.

One game. You miss one game, and apparently, all the drama unfolds without you.

“You should’ve been there, ___,” Jimin drawls, eyes twinkling with mischief. “His ex was practically his personal cheerleader.”

Your brows lift as you turn to Jungkook. “Sooyoung, huh?”

You never got the chance to meet Jungkook’s ex. He was dating her during your senior year of high school, and they broke up while you were still in school.

His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t look at you. Instead, he focuses way too hard on his plate, shoving a piece of meat into his mouth like it’s the most interesting thing in the world and then finishing his beer in a few, big sips.

Jimin, on the other hand, is thriving on the attention. “Oh, yeah,” he hums. “Front-row seat. Didn’t take her eyes off him.”

At that, Jungkook kicks him again, harder this time. “Can you not?”

“Oh, come on, man. It was cute.”

You tilt your head, watching Jungkook’s reaction. “And you didn’t like that?”

His eyes finally flick to yours, the slight curve of his mouth betraying him. “I didn’t say I didn’t like it, I just don’t want to talk about it.”

“She waited outside the locker room for him,” Jimin continues.

You hold back a roll of your eyes. You don’t care. You don’t care at all.

“Did she?” Eunji fuels the fire with her excited question.

“She said hi. That’s it,” Jungkook mutters.

Jimin snorts at Jungkook’s reply. “Man, that’s not what I saw.”

“And you,” Jungkook directs at Jimin. “You were eye fucking her friend the entire time, so don’t act all high and mighty when you could barely keep your hands to yourself.”

“Sue me!” Jimin exclaims. “Yeah, I do think her friend’s hot, lock me up for it. I need her ig handle or something. I wanna see her again.”

“You’re both hopeless,” you comment, nails tapping against your glass.

“Hey, if she’s hot, she’s hot.” Jimin shrugs, grinning from ear to ear. “You can’t blame me for appreciating the view.”

Yoongi gives him a pointed look. “I’m pretty sure you’ve been ‘appreciating’ the view from every girl in the restaurant for the last hour.”

Jimin laughs loudly, clearly unbothered. “Guilty as charged.”

“What else is new?” Eunji asks. “Besides Seokjin thinking being unhinged will get him an A in his philosophy class, Jungkook having an over-attached ex, and Jimin being a total playboy? Anything else exciting happened this week?”

“I bought a blind box today,” you announce. “And got upset because I didn’t get the one I wanted.”

“The sonny angel figures?” Jungkook asks casually – way too casually.

His tone is so easy, so natural, that for a split second, you forget, just like he forgot. You almost answer just as effortlessly, almost fall into the usual rhythm of conversation with him. But then it hits you—the sharp, perfectly timed reminder that you’re pissed at him.

So instead, you hesitate, fingers tightening around your glass. “Yeah,” you say, a little clipped “Those.”

“I say you stop spending so much money for dust-collecting shit,” Tae comments, and you don’t even have the chance to defend yourself, because Seokjin calls him out for his own questionable spending habits.

While they bicker, you giggle at their antics, distracted for a moment. You reach to dip your dumpling into the sauce, but just as your fingers hover above the dish, you brush hands with Jungkook, who was doing the same.

You kick his hand with yours, expecting him to pull back, but he doesn’t budge.

“Do you ever stop being annoying?” you ask.

“Not when the person I’m annoying is you.”

“You gonna be like this all night?” Your hand sinks, touching the table. “I thought you were mad and would want to ignore me,” you say, much quieter now, even though everyone else is too caught up arguing whether Taehyung’s fifa pack spendings are justified.

“Weren’t you trying to do the same?”

Well, yeah. You were trying to ignore him – that was the sole reason why you even came – but you somewhere along the way, you veered off that plan, and now here you are.

“I guess you’re just too pretty for me to ignore.”

Jungkook freezes at that. You use the opportunity to nudge his hand aside and dip your food into the sauce.

“Funny, didn’t seem to be a problem when you were texting that dude next to me the other day.”

Your chewing slows. The words hit exactly where he intended, sharp and precise, a reminder of exactly why he’s pissed in the first place.

The conversation around you carries on, oblivious, but between you and Jungkook, the tension is suffocating.

You pull away completely, shifting in your seat so your legs are angled away from him and into Eunji’s direction.

Ignoring him is easier, less of a headache – and less of a heartache – than acknowledging his existence.

Later that night, you drown yourself in reality tv, letting the mindless drama fill the living room and keep your thoughts from wandering to the interactions you had with Jungkook tonight, because you really need a break from that boy.

You and Eunji had left the restaurant before the boys, her excuse being that she wanted to study, and yours being that you’d had done enough socialising for the day and it was time to go back home. Yeah, you do realise that you have a self-destructive tendency to isolate when things get difficult.

So, here you are, curled up on the couch, journaling about feelings and situations and –

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

You freeze, pen hovering above the paper as the sound of the front door code being punched in echoes from outside. The lock clicks, and the door swings open.

A familiar head of dark hair peeks inside first, followed by annoyingly familiar second one.

“You’re still up?” Taehyung asks, shrugging off his jacket and toes off his shoes.

“Tae,” you say slowly, looking at Jungkook. “Why is he here?”

“Figured we’d hang for a bit more. Play some fifa together.”

“You figured?” You turn to Tae with a deadpan expression.

Taehyung shrugs. “He looked sad.”

“I didn’t look sad,” Jungkook mutters, finally stepping inside and shutting the door behind him.

“You looked all emo when everyone got up to leave,” Taehyung says.

“Whatever.” Jungkook rolls his eyes and heads towards the kitchen, like this is his house now.

You exhale through your nose, pressing your fingers to your temple. “Do we look like a halfway house for emotionally constipated men?”

Jungkook’s voice calls out from the kitchen. “I can hear you.”

“Good.”

“Please try and act civil while I go change,” Taehyung pleads, already disappearing down the hallway.

Jungkook emerges a second later, settling onto the couch, a glass of water in his hand. His tatted fingers wrap around it, long and steady, as he takes a sip. You watch the way his Adam’s apple bobs, the way his throat moves, how the tiniest droplet of water escapes before his tongue swipes it away – completely unbothered. Casual. Like he isn’t taking up too much space in your head already.

“Headache from all that beer?” you ask, trying – hoping – that you sound unaffected by whatever it is about him that’s making your stomach flip.

He exhales, tipping his head back against the couch, stretching his neck just enough to make it unfair. The angle sharpens his jaw line.

His gaze flickers to you. “Something like that.”

Jungkook looks at you. Really looks at you.

His eyes drag over your bare legs, stretched out in tiny shorts that are basically just suggestions of clothing. They hesitate on the curve of your thighs, the hem barely covering anything, before sliding up to the delicate strap of your camisole, the curve of your shoulder. His fingers tighten around the glass just enough for you to notice.

You meet his gaze, unblinking.

Jungkook’s fingers twitch.

You smirk, stretching deliberately, arching your back slightly as you reposition yourself.

And then – his eyes flick downward, landing on the open journal beside you.

You don’t think anything of it at first – until his brows furrow slightly, head tilting as he squints.

“Wait,” he mutters, leaning forward. “Did I just see my name in there?”

Your stomach drops.

Panic sets in at lightning speed.

You slam the journal shut so fast it’s borderline violent.

“Mind your business.”

Jungkook blinks, then grins, slow and smug. Oh, you hate him.

“There is literally nothing for you to see.”

“Oh, but there was something,” he muses, stretching an arm along the back of the couch like he isn’t about to drive you insane. “You wrote about me?”

You cross your arms. “What if I did?”

“Depends,” he says, just momentarily allowing his gaze to drop to your chest. “What exactly are you writing about me?”

Jungkook’s smirk deepens, eyes flicking between you and the journal.

“You’re acting awfully guilty right now,” he taunts, shifting slightly, his thigh pressing against yours.

“Because you’re being nosey.”

“No, because you’re hiding something.”

You roll your eyes, gripping the journal tighter. “You’re not that interesting.”

He hums, tilting his head. “Then lemme see.”

“Absolutely not.”

It happens so fast you barely have time to react. One second, Jungkook is sitting there, all relaxed and smug. The next, he’s lunging forward, reaching for the journal with one hand, the other bracing against the couch to trap you in place.

“Jungkook—stop!” you shriek, twisting away, holding the journal out of his reach.

But he’s relentless.

He shifts closer, practically caging you in, his body warm and solid against yours. His arm brushes your bare thigh as he reaches again, fingers grazing the cover. You twist further, laughing, but the movement only makes things worse—your back presses into the cushions, and suddenly, he’s right there, hovering over you, weight balanced between his knees and one hand pressed into the couch beside your head.

The laughter dies in your throat.

Because now it’s just you and him, tangled up, breathing the same air. His face is inches from yours, the heat of his body seeping into your skin, the scent of his cologne mixed with something distinctly him. His gaze flickers downward – just for a second – but it’s enough. Enough for you to feel the shift. Enough for the teasing to suddenly feel like something else entirely.

Jungkook swallows.

Your heart is in your throat.

His gaze drops to your lips.

You freeze.

His fingers tighten slightly where they rest near your hip. The journal is still caught between you, forgotten, and for the first time, neither of you moves to break the moment.

Until –

A door creaks open down the hallway.

You both jerk back at the same time.

Jungkook moves first, clearing his throat as he drops back onto the couch, running a hand through his hair like that’ll somehow erase the past ten seconds. You sit up just as Taehyung strolls back in, glancing between the two of you with mild suspicion.

“Did you guys kill each other yet?”

“Nearly,” you retort, fixing your hair.

Tae grabs two controllers and plops onto the couch next to Jungkook. “Why’d you scream?”

“Your idiot of a best friend is obsessed with me and tried to sneak a peek into my journal,” you huff, dramatically clutching said journal to your chest.

“Oh, boy,” Tae clicks his tongue. “She’s serious about this thing, Jk. Wouldn’t advise you to –” he waves a hand vaguely, “–poke the bear.”

Jungkook looks like he is actually considering telling Tae what he saw in your beloved journal. His lips party slightly, brows furrowing, before he shakes the thought off. Good for him. You wouldn’t even know where to begin explaining why Jungkook’s name is written in there.

Taehyung hands one of the controllers to Jungkook.

“Is this my cue to turn off my show?” you ask, lips forming a natural pout of disappointment.

“Sorry, spontaneous boys' night,” Tae says with a shrug.

“Please never say that again.”

Jungkook snorts, finally looking at you.

You raise a brow. Challenge him silently.

He just grins, popping his dimples, rolling his shoulders back like he has the upper hand.

God, you hate him.

You stay in the living room while they game – despite considering retreating to your room multiple times when Jungkook and Tae started yelling at each like an old married couple.

But you quickly realise how fun it is to mess with Jungkook, especially when he gets roasted for his lack of skills by an oblivious Taehyung. Which, judging by the way Jungkook’s jaw keeps ticking and his grip on the controller tightens, is absolutely getting to him.

“Want more snacks?” you ask sweetly as you rise to your feet, collecting the empty bowls. One slips from your grasp, landing on the carpet. You bend over to grab it, in front of Jungkook, and maybe, just maybe, you move slower than necessary. Maybe shifting your hips a little too much. Maybe giving him a view he definitely does not deserve.

Tae, completely unbothered, waves you off like a fly buzzing around his screen. “___, get out of the way,” he complains impatiently, fingers rapidly clicking on his controller. “But I’ll have some more chips, thanks.”

Jungkook, however, isn’t saying shit.

You glance over your shoulder, just in time to catch the flicker of his eyes meeting yours before he collects himself and redirects his attention back to the game.

“You good, Jungkook?” you ask innocently.

His nostrils flare. Through gritted teeth, he mutters, “Just move.”

So you do, slow and smug, your shorts sliding back over your thighs as you pad toward the kitchen.

Right as you’re reaching for the drawer, you hear Taehyung ask, “What are you gonna do about that Sooyoung girl?” Your movements slow. “You interested?”

The nosiness and urge to gossip definitely runs through your genes.

“Nah, I don’t want her back.”

When you glance back, Jungkook’s still focused on the game, but there’s something absent in the way he’s holding the controller – like he’s playing on autopilot.

“That bad, huh?”

“Just wasn’t that deep.”

You busy yourself with the drawer, fingertips grazing over the handle as you bite back the urge to comment. Just listen.

“You never really said why you two broke up.”

“No, I did tell you,” Jungkook says, easy but firm. “You just never believed me.”

“That’s because it always felt like there was more.”

“There wasn’t. We just didn’t fit.”

Didn’t fit how?

You open the drawer and grab more snacks.

“Yeah...I don’t know. You never seemed truly happy with her.”

Jungkook exhales sharply through his nose. "I wasn’t miserable," he finally says.

“You weren’t happy either.”

“I don’t know. Maybe I stayed with Sooyoung because it was easy. No drama. No real emotions involved.”

With the snacks in tow, you walk back to the living room. “That sounds really sad, Jaykay,” you say, not trying to hide that you’ve been listening to them.

He shrugs. “Maybe. But at least it didn’t mess with my head.” His gaze lingers on you. “Didn’t make me feel like I was losing my mind.”

“Fuck, no, if someone makes you feel that way – leave, immediately,” Taehyung says.

You grab a bag of chips, tearing it open as you lean against the side of the couch. “You guys done being dramatic yet?”

Taehyung glances over his shoulder, narrowing his eyes. “You’re still here?”

“I live here.”

“Unfortunately.”

“Unfortunately?” you repat. “You were the one who happily agreed when mum and dad suggested that I move in with you. I wanted my own place!”

“Oh no, the princess didn’t get what she wanted. How dare they?” Jungkook mocks you.

You faintly remember the discussion of moving into an even bigger place, where all three of you would live together, but Jungkook denied that idea back then, saying the dorm that his athletic scholarship is providing him is good enough for him.

You scoff, shoving his shoulder as you pop another chip into your mouth. “Okay, first of all, you don’t get a say in this. Second of all, I’m not a princess.”

Jungkook tilts his head, a smirk playing on his lips. “Sure you aren’t.”

Taehyung snorts, eyes still glued to the screen. “You literally whined for two weeks straight about not having enough closet space.”

“That was a valid complaint,” you argue. “You take up, like, half of it with your stupid jerseys.”

“They’re collectibles.”

“They’re ugly.”

Jungkook laughs, finally leaning back into the couch, looking far too amused. “I see living together is going great for you two.”

“Oh, it’s fantastic,” Taehyung deadpans. “Every day is a blessing.”

“You’re so dramatic,” you mutter, but you can’t help the way your lips twitch. “I liked this conversation more when you gossiped about Jungkook’s life.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes, then jerks his chin toward Jungkook. “Dude, hurry up and lose so we can switch games.”

Jungkook, who has barely been playing at all, huffs. “I’m not gonna lose on purpose.”

“You’re already playing like shit,” Taehyung points out. “What’s up with you? Did Sooyoung get into your head or what?”

“Quit mentioning her,” Jungkook grumbles, jaw tightening.

Sooyoung?

No, that is not who is on is mind.

Why would he be thinking about her when – okay, you need to calm down. It’s not that serious.

You just need to call it a night, crawl into bed, and sleep it off.

“Heading to bed,” you announce, grabbing your journal from the coffee table.

“Alright, sleep tight,” Taehyung replies.

“Night, princess.” You flick the back of Jungkook’s head for that.

“Okay, very out of character for me, but we need to stop drinking for a sec and you need to tell me why the hell you keep looking back at Jungkook?” Eunji asks you all of a sudden, voice barely carrying over the muffled bass shaking the walls of the packed frat house.

The kitchen is one of the only semi-breathable spaces in the frat house, though the counters are a war zone of spilled liquor, sticky cups, and questionably abandoned drinks. The air reeks of cheap booze and sweat, but none of that is stopping Eunji from interrogating you.

You blink perplexed. “Out of character for you?” you ask back, eyeing the way she pulls back the cup you were just mixing a drink in. “I think that is very true to your character – very you. I’d be out of character for me to stop us from drinking.” You snatch back your cup.

“Did I say that?” She’s lost in her mind for a moment. “I don’t even remember. Am I that drunk already? I don’t wanna wake up hungover tomorrow.” She laments. “I still got this assignment due, and I wanted to get most of it done tomorrow, but – oh my god. Do not distract me from the question I just asked you.” She stares at you with sharp eyes. “Why do you keep looking back at Jungkook?”

“Am I?”

She huffs. “You don’t get to play this game with me, ___.” She pokes your tummy. “Answer me.”

You fully turn to her, abandoning the cup with the godawful alcohol mix – yes, it’s your creation, no, you’ve never had any talent for mixing drinks.

“I might have to tell you something.”

Her eyes widen. Immediately. Mouth opening in an unbelievable expression of pure, unfiltered drama. One that belongs in a reality show confession booth.

“Shut up. You did not – did you? Oh my god, shut up!”

“We might have hooked up for, like, a good few months.”

Her palm flies to cover her mouth. “Behind Taehyung’s back?” she whisper shouts.

“Well, obviously.” You point to yourself. “You think I’d be alive if he knew? You think he’d be alive if Tae knew?”

“You whore!”

“For Jungkook? Kinda,” you admit defeatedly.

You take a glimpse into his direction. Eunji shoves you on the shoulder for that.

“Don’t make it obvious!” she exclaims. “But you need to tell me everything. Right now.”

You sigh, leaning against the counter.

“The first time we hooked up was before I enrolled in uni. It was the summer before when Tae and Jungkook spontaneously visited and-“

“Okay, I need you to stop,” Eunji interrupts, fingers massaging her temples. “The summer before uni?” she repeats, exasperated. “You’ve been keeping it a secret since summer? I need more booze before you continue.”

“I’m sorry for not telling you, but we didn’t want anyone to know. He’d be pissed if he knew I told you.”

“No, don’t be sorry. I get it, I really do. I just didn’t expect this at all.” After pouring something inside her cup, she takes big gulps from it.

“I mean, what was I supposed to do? He’s hot, he’s pretty, and I’ve had a crush on him since, like, forever. I had to give in when he showed interest. What’s a girl gonna do?”

“How have you been able to keep it from Taehyung? They’re with each other 24/7.”

“He comes over when I know Tae’s gonna be out for a while. Or the other way around,” you reply, shrugging like it’s no big deal. “You can make anything work if you really want to, and I really wanted Jungkook.”

Still do, if you’re being honest.

You pause, then wave it off dramatically. “But that’s ancient history. We’re totally over that weird situationship.”

“What?!” Another shocked gasp escapes her. “Why?!”

“I don’t even know, to be honest. He just – we fucked, and then he...I dunno.” You grab your cup and down the rest of your drink, grimacing at the taste of whatever you concocted. “He got mad at me for texting Eunwoo after we had sex. I didn't even think he’d be all sensitive about it, especially since, you know, he’s with other girls too. But he got so pissed and we argued. And guess what?!” You throw your arms out, face dramatically incredulous. “He just leaves me in bed! Like, straight up walks out, saying stupid shit like I sleep around and only text him when I’m bored. Acting like we’re some exclusive thing, which we’re not! How dare he get so upset?” you argue theatrically, voice rising in pitch. “I’ve got better shit to do than this,” you mimic in Jungkook’s deep voice, eyes rolling for extra effect. “He’s so annoying.”

Eunji scrutinizes you for a brief moment before coming to her conclusion.

“Oh, he wants you bad.”

“Huh?” Your brows furrow. “He left me.”

“Because he wants you two to be exclusive and you don't. Why should he stay?”

Why should he stay?

You stare at Eunji, her words settling over you like an unwanted truth.

“He did ask me to be exclusive before,” you admit, twirling the empty cup in your hands. “But I always thought it would be a bad idea. Because being exclusive is so much more serious, and I want to be anything but serious with him. We don’t work that way. I can’t have that happening and risking Tae finding out. It would ruin everything.”

Eunji gives you a long, unimpressed look. “But being exclusive friends with benefits doesn’t have to mean more. It could just stay that way. Why do you always make things complicated?”

You huff, frustration bubbling up. “I don’t know.” You drop your forehead against her shoulder.

She pats your back like you’re a lost puppy.

“You’re and idiot, babe.”

“I know.”

“You also like him.”

You groan into her shoulder. “Shut up.”

“Just saying,” she singsongs.

It’s only now that you realise just how much you needed this – to talk to someone. To get all these tangled thoughts out of your head instead of letting them fester in silence. You’ve spent so much time convincing yourself that none of it mattered, brushing it off like it was nothing, but saying it out loud makes it real. And weirdly, that feels... good. Cathartic, even. Like exhaling after holding your breath for too long.

“Do you think I should-“ You start to lift your head, but Eunji pushes you back down with a firm hand.

“Everything will be fine, ___,” she babbles, patting your head a little too aggressively. “Just, you know, don’t be too sad.”

“What are you on about?”

“Just stay here for a sec.”

“Eunji.” You force yourself out of her grasp.

She’s looking somewhere past you, eyes flickering toward the living room, but when she realizes you’ve caught on, she quickly averts her gaze. Too quickly. Suspiciously.

You turn around, scanning the area to find what she doesn’t want you to see.

Your tummy churns in an instant when you see it.

Jungkook.

Heading up the stairs.

With Nayeon.

Even in the hazy lighting of the party, he stands out – broad shoulders wrapped in a dark, well-fitted tee, his silver chain glinting against his collarbone. He moves effortlessly, the easy confidence in his stride something you know all too well. His hand rests low on Nayeon’s back, fingertips grazing the thin fabric of her dress as she leans into him, whispering something into his ear.

Your throat tightens.

Eunji shifts beside you, watching your reaction carefully. “Hey, maybe it’s not-“

“I’m gonna throw up.”

The words leave your mouth before you can even think. You grab Eunji’s cup and down the last of her drink, but the alcohol does nothing to wash away the bitter taste in your mouth.

Your eyes scan the room frantically. “Wasn’t Eunwoo somewhere here too?” You rise onto your toes, searching the sea of bodies. “I think I just need to get my mind off things.”

“Oh, no, no, no, no,” Eunji immediately cuts in, grabbing your wrist before you can make any rash decisions. “We are not doing this.”

“Doing what?”

She levels you with a look. “You are not about to make a dumbass decision just to get back at Jungkook. Not on my watch.”

“I really, really hate him right now.”

“I know,” she soothes. “But no petty comebacks for situations where we absolutely do not need to make fools of ourselves, yeah?”

Your brain is screaming at you to make Jungkook feel just as shitty as you do, to do something reckless and distracting, but deep down, you know Eunji’s right.

You steal another glance at the staircase. They’re gone.

The realization sinks in, and suddenly, the air in the frat house feels suffocating. The bass of the music thrums in your chest, the chatter around you blurring into an overwhelming hum.

“I need air,” you mutter, pushing past Eunji before she can stop you.

She sighs but doesn’t follow. She knows you need a moment alone.

You slip through the crowd, weaving your way toward the back door. The night air hits you instantly, cool against your heated skin, but it does little to settle the storm raging in your chest.

Leaning against the railing of the porch, you inhale deeply, forcing your nerves to settle.

This is fine.

“Can you promise you won’t puke on me?”

“I mean, I can, but I don’t know if I can keep the promise.”

You spotted Chanyeol with another guy—Jackson, you think—smoking and went over to chat with them. It wasn’t until they finished their joint that curiosity got the best of you. One thing led to another, and Jackson went inside to roll you one. Now, all three of you are standing outside, two pairs of curious eyes fixed on you.

“She’ll be fine,” Jackson says as he exhales a slow stream of smoke, watching it curl into the night air.

Chanyeol eyes you warily as he sparks up your joint. “I don’t know how much you drank tonight, but please tell me if you feel sick.” He holds it out for you.

You hesitate for half a second before taking it between your fingers. It feels weird, unnatural. “So I just…?”

“Inhale, but not too hard. Hold it for a second, then let it out,” Chanyeol instructs.

You follow his guidance, pulling in a slow drag. The taste is harsher than you expected, earthy and a little burnt, making you cough almost instantly.

“Classic first hit,” Jackson says, but it’s not as reassuring as he thinks. “Give it a sec.”

“How do you feel?” Chanyeol asks, watching you closely.

“Feels very icky,” you tell him, nose scrunched up. “But I’m feeling okay.”

“Yo, Jackson!” some dude yells from the back. Jackson disappears, leaving Chanyeol and you alone.

“You sure you’re fine?”

The night air feels heavier now, the music from inside muffled like you’re hearing it through a wall. Your fingers tingle slightly, warmth spreading through your limbs. You shift on your feet, suddenly hyper-aware of the way your body moves.

You blink at him. “I think my brain is moving slower than my body.”

He laughs. “Yeah, that happens. Just ride it out.”

You exhale, watching the smoke swirl in front of you.

“The fuck?”

Your head snaps toward the voice.

Jungkook stands a few feet away, brows furrowed, looking like he just walked into some kind of crime scene. His eyes flick between you and the joint in your fingers, then to Chanyeol, before settling back on you.

For some reason, your eyes wander to his hands. He’s probably touched so many things tonight, so many body parts. Did he wash them?

“The hell you’re doing?” Jungkook asks, walking towards you.

“Uhm, having fun?” you try, watching his frown deepen.

“This is not something you do, ___.” Jungkook directs his glare at Chanyeol. “Why the fuck would you give this to her?”

“Fuck, Jungkook, if you wanna be angry be angry elsewhere,” Chanyeol says, rolling his eyes.

“You fuck off,” Jungkook counters.

“As if you have never smoked.” Chanyeol raises his brows.

“I don’t smoke.”

“Trying to maintain a squeaky-clean image for those scouts who might be watching?”

“Mind your fucking business.”

“Jungkook, you’re being rude.” You turn to him, pointing a finger at his broad chest. “You’ve been going around, having fun yourself but can’t let other people have fun. That’s not nice of you.”

You stare up at him, a sullen pout on your mouth before pulling another slow drag and trying hard to not cough, but a small cough slips out anyway.

“Get that shit away, ___,” Jungkook demands, unimpressed by the smoke surrounding his face.

“Why do you care? Lemme have fun.”

“This shit fucks with your head.”

My brain’s already fucked, you think. Thanks a lot.

“It’s just weed?”

“Taehyung will lose his mind.”

“Is Tae with us now?”

Jungkook arches his brow.

“Oh, you wouldn’t.”

“Stop right now or I’ll call him.”

You hold his gaze, daring him. “You’re bluffing.”

Jungkook pulls his phone out of his pocket without hesitation, thumb hovering over the screen. “Try me.”

You wait, staring at Jungkook’s screen until he actually calls Taehyung.

Before the call can connect, you groan and shove the joint into Chanyeol’s hand. “God, fine, I’m done.”

He hangs up before Taehyung can answer.

You glare at him, but he only tilts his head toward the house. “Let’s get you some water.”

He guides you towards the house with his hand splayed across your side. At first, you shy away from his touch, mind racing with thoughts you’d rather not acknowledge. But as the night air presses cool against your skin, you let yourself relax, leaning into him slightly as you walk up the stairs.

“You’re so mean, you know that?” you huff.

“I’m just looking out for you,” he replies, in a softer tone than before.

“You didn’t have to be mean with Chanyeol. It wasn’t his weed. Chanyeol was actually very kind, made sure I was feeling okay-“

Jungkook stops at the threshold of the house.

“I’m gonna have a little chat with Jackson.”

“How do you know-“

His hand slips from your waist. He turns, leaving you standing on the porch, and disappears in the crowd.

Because that’s just easy for him – leaving you.

Why should he stay?

You don’t care.

And if you keep telling yourself that, maybe – just maybe – you’ll start to believe it.

Flash forward a week, and you can now say –proudly, with your full chest – that you do care.

You’ve never not cared. Pretended? Yes. But gotten over it? Not even close.

Which is why it’s not surprising that you find yourself at yet another party, drink in hand, scanning the room without meaning to. Or maybe you do mean to. Maybe you want to see him. Maybe you want him to see you. Maybe you want him to know that he didn’t get to you. Even though he did.

You’re sunk into the couch, surrounded by your friend group, half-listening as they go on about today’s hockey practice – boy gossip, oh how you love it.

“Coach told him he’s probably getting benched next game,” Jimin says, shaking his head as he leans back against the couch. “Too many penalties last match. Dumbass just keeps throwing hits for no reason.”

“That’s what happens when you let your ego get ahead of you,” Jin chimes in, stretching his legs out. “Coach is tired of his shit. And honestly? Fair.”

“I heard he almost fought Yoongi in the locker room,” Taehyung adds, arching a brow as he takes a sip of his drink. “Over something stupid too, like warm-up drills.”

“Swear to God, that guy needs to chill,” Jimin scoffs. “He’s got all the talent, but he plays like he’s trying to prove something every damn game.”

When Taehyung gets up to grab himself another drink, you catch him by the sleeve.

“Can you get me one too, please?” You hand him your empty cup.

Taehyung eyes the cup. “You’ve been drinking a bit more lately.”

“It’s just my second drink?”

His sharp eyes linger on you for a moment before he reluctantly takes your cup and walks off. He hasn’t missed the shift in your behaviour these past few weeks. You try to hide it, but there’s only so much you can do.

“Could say the same thing about Jungkook, though,” Jin says.

Jin’s words linger in the air, but you don’t dare react.

“Jungkook’s always been like that,” Jimin says, tipping his drink back. “Plays like he’s got something to prove, but I guess he kinda does. He wants to go pro, so it’s not like he can afford to slack off.”

It’s stupid, silly even, how easily his name can unravel you. How even when he’s not here, he’s everywhere.

“Isn’t your dad gonna come to the next game?” Jimin directs at you.

You shrug. “Maybe? I dunno.”

Given that your dad is an NHL executive, former team owner, he tries to find time in his busy schedule to attend the hockey games. The boys probably see him more than you do.

“Where is Jungkook anyway?” Hobi asks. “Is he gonna come over at all?”

Dear god, you hope, pray, he won’t.

You can’t live through seeing him disappear with another girl upstairs. You don’t have Eunji with you today to keep you from doing reckless decisions.

“He’d be all over Nayeon anyway. Doubt he’d even remember we exist,” Jin chuckles, unknowingly ruining the rest of your night.

The sound of their laughter grates against your nerves. The more you sit here, the more unbearable it becomes. The thought of him, of her, of what they could be doing, poisons your mind until you can’t take it anymore.

Taehyung returns, pressing a fresh drink into your hand. He barely gets a word in before his gaze sharpens. “You okay?”

You nod stiffly. “Yeah.”

“Liar.”

His voice is quiet enough that no one else hears, but it makes your stomach flip. He knows you too well. And if you sit here any longer, he’s going to drag the truth out of you, whether you like it or not.

So you stand abruptly, mumbling something about fresh air before slipping through the crowd, out into the cool night. The moment you’re alone, you let out a breath, pressing your fingers to your temples. It doesn’t help. Nothing does.

Before you can talk yourself out of it, you pull out your phone, scroll down to the name you should ignore, and press call.

Jungkook answers on the second ring.

“Did you call me on accident?”

You ignore his question, your fingers tightening around your phone as you shift your weight from one foot to the other. Instead, you ask, “Are you gonna come to the party?”

“No, I have some assignments to do,” he answers, hesitantly. “Why’d you ask?”

“Are you sure?” Your eyes close, waiting for the confirmation that you won’t have to see things (Jungkook and a girl that isn’t you) that you don’t want to see (him hooking up with someone that isn’t you).

“Yeah, positive.” There’s a pause, and then he adds, “Is there something you don’t want me to see? Or—wait, are you just making sure I won’t be around to ruin your night?” Jungkook laughs and you realise how you’ve missed that sound. “It’s your lucky day. You won’t see my face poking around in the crowd. You can have fun.”

You frown at the nonsense he’s saying. He couldn’t be more off.

“No, you don’t get it.”

“What am I not getting?”

You stare into the night sky, the stars blurred by the city lights. You consider hanging up, letting the moment pass, but then you remember what Eunji told you. Talk to him. Get the discomfort out of the way.

“You know I’m not an insecure person.” You cross one arm over your body, rubbing your bare skin against the rising cold. “Like, I’m confident in who I am. I don’t compare myself to others because, y’know, I don’t care enough about stuff like that.”

“Yeah, of course I know that. You’re a confident girl. Have always been.”

“But you know what makes me go crazy?”

“What?”

“Seeing you with someone else.” The words slip out before you can catch them, but now that they’re out in the open, you can’t take them back. You don’t want to. Or – I dunno if it’s just that. I want you to want me. And you don’t. Which I get, I’ve been a bit shitty, so you deserve to want someone that isn’t like me, but – it just makes me go a bit insane, because I thought you did want me again the other night. At my place.” Your voice drops on the last sentence, barely above a whisper. “But then I see you with Nayeon and you just don’t care.”

You take a break, trying to organise your thoughts, but it’s fruitless because it’s just a tangled mess up there.

“Eunji said to talk with you but still give us a bit time, but oh my god I just want it to be okay between us again. I’m feeling so confused, and I don’t even really know what’s going on, but all I know is that I want things to be like before. When you still wanted me, and I wanted you and everything was good, easy,” you say, exhaling a helpless breath. “Do you think that’s possible?”

It’s silent for a beat. You don’t blame him – you couldn’t recite half the stuff that just poured out of your mouth.

“Fuck, ___.” He sounds a bit helpless himself.

Jungkook sighs on the other end, and you hear the faint rustle of fabric, like he’s shifting, maybe running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know what to say to that,” he finally admits.

“Say anything,” you murmur.

“What do you want me to do, ___?” His voice is quieter now, more controlled, but there’s something simmering beneath the surface. “Stop seeing other people? Pretend like none of this ever happened? Or do you just want me to tell you that, yeah, I still want you?”

Your breath hitches. “Do you?”

“I thought I made that obvious,” he mutters. “But every time I think we’re on the same page, you pull away and act difficult. So, forgive me if I stopped trying to figure you out.”

“I don’t mean to act difficult.”

“Then why do you?”

You don’t have an answer. Or maybe you do, but you’re scared to say it.

Jungkook waits, but when you don’t respond, he lets out a dry laugh. “You know what’s funny? I wasn’t even gonna go to the party tonight. But now I kinda want to.”

“Why?”

“Maybe I wanna see what happens when you have to look me in the eyes.” His voice is lower now, rougher. “Because talking like this? It’s too easy for you.”

“No, don’t come.” You think of the worst-case scenario – arguing with Jungkook, him getting frustrated, turning to Nayeon because she’s easier, likes her more than you. And you couldn’t stand seeing that.

“Or maybe do, if you want,” you add, voice quieter. “I think I’m gonna leave anyway. Wanna go home.” Avoiding situations – your strong suit.

“How much have you had to drink?”

You stare at the untouched drink in your hand before lifting it to your lips. The sweetness hits first, masking the barely-there burn of alcohol (thanks, Tae). “Starting my third drink now.”

“I can walk you home,” he offers.

“It’s not a long walk to my place. You don’t have to.”

“I want to.” A rustle of movement on the other end before he adds, “On my way right now.”

“I’ll wait at the front for you.”

You weave your way back inside the house to find Taehyung, who’s still in the living room chatting with one of his teammates.

“Gonna go home, Tae,” you say, your voice cutting through their conversation. He glances up, distracted for a moment, before raising an eyebrow. “Also, here–” You hand him the drink he made for you. “This is not fun to drink at all.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes at your sassy comment but takes the cup from your hand. “Learn how to enjoy a party without getting drunk.”

“You tell me to get out of my room more, and when I do, this is what you say? Pick a side,” you grumble.

“Why do you wanna go home?” His fingers adjust the top of your strapless dress absentmindedly as he asks. “You okay?”

“Eh, just a bit bored.”

“We’re gonna play truth or dare in a bit,” Taehyung’s friend pipes up, raising his eyebrows in an exaggerated manner. “Maybe you should stick around.”

“I think I’ll skip,” you say. “But please do me a favour and fill me in on all the drama I’ll be missing out on.”

He winks at you. “Will do.”

“I’ll walk you home,” Taehyung says, stepping towards you.

You know he won’t allow you to go home by yourself, so you opt for telling him the truth. “Jungkook’s coming to take me home.”

“Jungkook?” he asks, surprised. “Did you call him?”

“Yeah, I asked him. Didn’t wanna annoy you. Go have fun doing...” You glance over at Jimin and Hobi, who are holding an impromptu drinking competition. Hobi’s attempting to chug straight from a bottle of something clearly too strong for him, while Jimin’s pretending to be the host of a weird, offbeat game show. “...whatever that is,” you finish, trying to hold back a laugh.

“You really can’t leave those two alone for a second, can you?” Taehyung lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “Tell Jungkook to swing by here once he drops you off.”

“He didn’t sound like he was in the mood to stop by, but I'll tell him.”

“Text me when you get home, yeah?” he says over his shoulder, already walking back toward Jimin and a very much unconscious Hobi, who’s sprawled out on the couch looking like he’s had one too many rounds.

Jungkook finds you almost immediately. You barely have time to register his presence before he’s already slipping his zip hoodie over your shoulders, his hands smoothing over the fabric like he’s tucking you in for the night.

“You should’ve waited inside,” he mutters, fingers lingering at the collar like he’s seriously considering zipping it up for you too.

You swat his hands away, glancing around quickly. “Jungkook, don’t – everyone’s watching.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Who’s watching?”

You look over your shoulder. “I dunno. People.”

Jungkook huffs a laugh, stepping closer. “Right. Because me making sure you don’t freeze to death is so scandalous,” he jokes. “But smoking weed the other day was okay to do outside? With all the people there?”

“As a friend you’re supposed to forget my mess-ups, not remind me of them.” You huff, faintly remembering when you tried weed for the first time. You did puke that night. Luckily not on Chanyeol. “You didn’t have to come,” you grumble, even as you tug the hoodie tighter around yourself, his warmth and the faint scent of his detergent wrapping around you like a second skin.

“I know,” he says, tilting his head. “But I wanted to.”

And then, because he’s annoying, he reaches up and tugs the hood over your head, effectively swallowing half your face in fabric.

You let out a muffled noise of protest, pushing it back down immediately. “Stop that.”

Jungkook just grins, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he starts walking. “You look cute like that, though.”

You glare at him but fall into step beside him anyway, the hoodie still draped around you like it belongs there. The night air nips at your skin, but his warmth lingers, and you swear he notices the way you pull the sleeves over your hands like it’s yours.

“So…” His voice is quieter now. “What you said on the phone earlier.”

Your stomach twists. “What about it?”

“I just—” He starts, then pauses. “I don’t know what you want from me, ___. One second, you’re pushing me away, and the next, you’re telling me you can’t stand seeing me with someone else. You –” He falters, his voice catching slightly. “Do you even know what you want?”

“I know that you ruined me for other boys, for one,” you say, sighing deeply before you continue. “I want things to be like before,” you reply. “When everything wasn’t so…” You gesture vaguely. “Complicated. I don’t like this. And I don’t like how I feel when I see you with –” You cut yourself off before the name can leave your lips. He knows anyway.

Jungkook watches you carefully, hands still stuffed into his pockets, shoulders slightly hunched. “I wasn’t trying to rub anything in your face,” he says after a pause. “I didn’t think it’d… affect you.”

“Well, it did,” you say, a little too fast, a little too defensive. “And I hate that it did, because it’s not like I have a right to be mad about it.”

Jungkook tilts his head. “Don’t you?”

That stops you in your tracks.

Because – do you? You don’t know what this is, don’t know what you want from him except for more. More of his attention, more of his time, more of him. But not all of him, right? Because that would mean–

“God,” you mumble, rubbing your hands down your face. “Why are you making me say things?”

Jungkook chuckles, nudging your side. “You called me, remember?”

You groan. “Worst decision I’ve ever made.”

“Harsh.”

“Accurate.”

Jungkook lets out a short laugh, but then he’s quiet for a beat before he says, “Look, I don’t wanna play games. If you want me, then say it.”

You swallow. “I do.”

“But we don’t want each other like that,” he adds.

“Yeah, no.” You chew on your lip, pulling his hoodie tighter around yourself. “I just… don’t want to see you with other people. And I don’t want to pretend that it doesn’t bother me.”

“I don’t wanna see you with anyone else either.” Jungkook exhales, running a hand through his hair. “You want to keep fucking but be exclusive.”

You wince. “Could you not say it like that?”

“What, say it like the truth?”

You purse your lips, staring at him. “Is it a no?”

Jungkook doesn’t say anything for a second. Then, he sighs. “It’s not a no. I’ve been asking you for this, and you always pushed me away.”

“You know am not good with serious conversations. I like it when things are easy.” You cross your arms, trying to shield yourself, but your eyes can’t help but flicker towards him. “I don’t mean to push you away,” you admit. “I just– I get scared.”

His lips part slightly, like he wasn’t expecting that. And then – without a word – he reaches out, pulling the hoodie up so the zipper meets your chin, like he’s tucking you in.

Your heart trips over itself. “What are you doing?”

He grins, hands still lingering near your collar. “Making sure you don’t run away before you finish talking.”

“I wouldn’t run,” you protest.

Jungkook raises a brow.

“…Okay, maybe I would,” you mutter.

His grin softens into something fonder. “Well, you didn’t,” he says simply. “You’re talking to me now.” His thumb brushes over the fabric near your shoulder. “And I know that’s not easy for you.”

Your face grows hot. You roll your eyes, looking away. “Okay, don’t be nice about it.”

Jungkook laughs, bumping your forehead lightly with his. “Sorry, can’t help it. I’m proud of you.”

Your stomach flips. You shove at his chest. “Ugh. Shut up.”

He just laughs harder, catching your wrist before you can push him again. “Too late.”

You elbow him, but he catches your arm, smirking as he tugs you closer. “So that’s it?” His voice drops slightly. “You’re mine, and I’m yours, but we don’t call it anything?”

The words send a shiver down your spine. Mine.

“…Yeah,” you say. “Something like that.”

Jungkook hums, his grip on your wrist loosening but not quite letting go. His fingers brush against yours for a second before he shoves his hands back into his pockets.

“Just stay with me.” You glance at him. “Don’t leave.”

“I’ll stay. Don’t worry.”

You continue walking, the quiet hum of the streetlights and distant city noise filling the silence.

“Taehyung said he wants you to stop by at the party once you drop me off,” you tell Jungkook, letting the information hang in the air before you ask, “But hang out with me instead?”

“You know, I was doing very important things before you called.”

“You never do uni stuff and this is the day you’re deciding to do a personality rebrand?”

“What do you mean? I’m on top of my grades...Kinda.”

You huff at his response. “Then, I dunno. Wanna be nerdy together? I can help you with your assignment.”

You’re pretty sure your marketing major and fashion design minor won’t do much to help him with stats, but you’re definitely down to stick around just to be close to him.

“I don’t think you can, but being nerdy together sounds extremely intriguing, so come on.” He holds his hand out for you and drags you the other way around to his dorm.

It’s not far, just a few blocks over, but the way his fingers loosely wrap around yours makes the walk feel shorter.

Here’s how the rest of the night goes: Jungkook, the ever exemplary student, continues working on his assignment, while you – an accomplished liar who successfully deceived Jungkook into believing you would help him – pretend to help for all of five minutes before succumbing to the far more important task of online shopping for cute clothes.

It’s being nerdy together (your version).

Every so often, he glances at you, probably wondering if you’ll suddenly become useful. You do not. Instead, you kick your feet up on his bed, adding yet another item to your cart that you definitely don’t need.

Your thumb hovers over the screen, eyes locked on the top that has no business being so cute. A strapless, velvety pink crop top. The entire front is held together by a line of sparkling, rhinestone heart clasps, leaving slivers of skin exposed.

“Do you think this is cute?” You turn your phone toward Jungkook.

“Very pretty.” Jungkook nods in approval, until his eyes flick down to the price. “What the fuck, ___.”

“What?” Add to cart. “It’s cute, no?”

“You’re a terrible study partner,” he mutters, typing on his laptop.

“I never claimed to be one,” you say, scrolling past a top that you absolutely do need. “Isn't being in my presence motivating enough?”

Jungkook snorts. “Right. I’m so motivated by your commitment to retail therapy.”

“Good,” you say, adding another item to your cart. “Then I’m doing my job.”

You watch him work on his assignment, your gaze drifting to his hands resting on the keyboard. His fingers are long and lean, the veins running along his wrists just noticeable under his skin. It's like every little movement is getting your attention, and suddenly, all you can think about is how good those hands would feel on you.

“What about this,” you say, a ghost of a smirk dancing at the corner of your lips. “When you finish your task, we can look through some lingerie. You can help me pick out a few things.”

The back of Jungkook’s head hits the wall. His eyes wander to the mirror on the opposite side of the room. You catch him staring – specifically at your propped-up legs, his gaze lingering a little too close to where your dress has ridden up, just enough to reveal a peek of lace.

“Hey, no peeking,” you scold, snapping your legs shut and stretching them out flat on his bed again, smoothing your dress down for good measure. “That’s also for later, when you finish your assignment.”

Smirking, you shift on the bed, just to test him.

“Must be so hard,” you muse, pretending to stretch as your dress slides just a little higher on your thighs. “Having a mirror right there, nowhere else to look.”

He scoffs. “If I wanted to see, I wouldn’t need a mirror.”

Jungkook doesn’t break eye contact, like he’s daring you to react. And maybe you should. Maybe you should roll your eyes, call him cocky, say you wish – but your brain isn’t working fast enough to form words.

“Remember how I fucked you against it?”

In his jersey. How could you forget?

And the way Jungkook’s lips twitch, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you, makes your face heat up instantly.

“When has it become so easy to make you shy?”

“I’m not.” You glare at him, but it only seems to amuse him more. His lips quirk higher, that same infuriating twitch like he’s enjoying this way too much.

You sit up straighter, leaning forward just enough so your dress pulls a little higher on your thighs, the movement slow and deliberate.

Jungkook’s eyes move to your legs, and you see that flicker of desire flash across his face. His fingers twitch, like he wants to do something – anything – but he stays still.

“Wanna have a little taste to get some motivation to finish your work?” you tease, the giddy rush that heated your body fading as you flash him a mischievous smile.

“Anything to distract me from this shit,” he replies, already pushing the laptop off his lap, the screen still filled with charts and statistics problems. Ugh.

You shift to your knees and grab the back of his neck, crashing your mouth against his. He deepens the kiss a little, his lips soft against yours, the taste of him sweet and familiar. His breath mingles with yours, warm and steady. His hand lands on your waist, fingers lightly tracing the curve of your body.

You pull back just a little, eyes fluttering open to meet his, and for a second, you both just smile at each other, breathless and giddy.

“Should’ve been doing this instead of staring at those charts,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing your cheek as he gently tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

You laugh softly, heart fluttering, before kissing him again – this time with more confidence, more warmth. His arms wrap around you, pulling you closer as if he can’t get enough. His touch is gentle, but you can feel the quiet desperation behind it.

His rosy lips are swollen after a few more minutes of kissing and touching and grinding.

You slide off the bed and drop down to the floor, your hands running over his thighs, silently urging him to move closer. He shifts toward you, letting out a sharp breath when your palm him through his grey sweatpants.

You want to start of slow, want to take your time, but you’re also so needy and greedy for him, that you can’t help but tug his sweatpants down his legs, along with his briefs.

You take his semi hard dick in your hands and begin to stroke him. You let a drop of spit fall onto his cock for lubrication.

Jungkook puffs out a deep breath. You want to hear more of that.

“What happened to a little taste?” he asks, barely able to contain the moans that leave his mouth.

“Can’t help it,” you shrug, watching him grow bigger and harder in your hand.

His hand reaches for the hoodie he gave you earlier, which was carelessly thrown on his bed. He places it gently on the floor in front of you.

“Sit here,” he says, smoothing out the fabric. “Don’t want your knees to hurt.”

You shuffle your knees onto his hoodie, adjusting yourself, and continue stroking him up and down. At some point, you use both of your hands. You missed feeling his heavy cock in your hands, sitting beneath him and just playing with him.

“Spit on it, baby,” he says, voice low as he grabs his cock by the base and holds it for you to spit on. “Good girl.” He watches you with hooded eyes rub your spit all over him, mixing it with the precum leaking from his tip.

His cock is shiny, glistening with veins adoring his length. You stick out your tongue, gently swiping it over his head. Jungkook hisses when you swirl your tongue around his tip, teasing him with slow moves. He strokes himself while you play with his tip.

“Missed this view.” He pulls away his cock and starts slapping it against your tongue, the heavy feeling and wet noises immediately making you press your thighs together. “Look so pretty on your knees. Such a pretty girl.” Jungkook slides his head into your mouth. “Suck, baby.”

You close your mouth around his cock while you lock eyes with him. Slowly taking him deeper until you can’t take more. Your eyes are already watery and you didn’t even get most of him inside your mouth. You bob your head up and down in a slow, leisure pace.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he praises, threading his fingers through your hair to push it away from your face. “Relax your throat for me, yeah?”

When you do, he presses his hand on the back of your head, pushing your down on his cock and forcing you to swallow nearly half of him. Jungkook lets out a pretty moan when he feels the tightness of your throat around his cock, closing his eyes for a moment. Tears sting your eyes when he pulls you back, your hands gripping his thighs for leverage.

He lets you catch your breath before pushing you down again, moving your head in a tempo to his liking. When he shoves his cock particularly deep into you, you gag, tears rolling down your cheeks. You’re an absolute mess when he pulls out.

“What a good girl you are,” Jungkook says, his voice hoarse and low. “You just love sucking cock, don’t you?” He rubs his sticky cock against your mouth before slapping his head against it. He moves to your right cheek, smearing the mess over your skin and lightly tapping his cock. “Hm, princess?” he asks softer, almost with fake sympathy. He raises his brows in question, looking down at you like there’s just you and no one else.

“Love it so much,” you agree, moving your head along to the mess he’s making on your face.

Putting his cock back into your mouth, Jungkook leans back, watching you with pleasure etched into his expression as you move your head swiftly, twisting your hand around the part you can’t reach.

“So good,” he mutters, his tatted hand against your cheek just to feel you.

You tug your dress down and bring his cock down to your tits. You spit between the valley of your tits, using his tip to catch it and spread it across your boobs. You moan when his head brushes over your perky nipples. You circle his cock around them in small movements, breathy puffs escaping your mouth with how sensitive you are.

“You’re so fucking hot.” Jungkook fondles one breast with his hand, kneading it with his long fingers. He lets a little drop of spit fall onto your chest too, hungrily watching as you rub it against your soft skin with his cock. “Just want a mess everywhere, right?”

You nod, dragging his cock back into your mouth because you just need to taste him.

Jungkook curses under his breath when you start playing with his balls with your other hand. “Fuck, baby. Gonna cum if you keep going.”

Music to your ears.

You continue, swirling your tongue around his cock as you move up and down, trying to go as deep as you can. You can tell he doesn’t want to cum yet, but he doesn’t drag you off his cock, he’s too needy and horny.

“Cum on my tits.” You shift, jerking his cock in front of your chest.

“You want me to?”

“Please,” you beg, pushing your tits together with your arm, looking up at him with big eyes.

He moans at that sight, spurts of cum shooting across your chest. He paints your tits white with a big load. Your mouth hangs open slightly at the cum dripping from his cock. You lick his cock clean before looking down at your tits.

“You came so much.” You hold your tits in your hands. You flick your finger through some of the cum, putting it in your cum afterwards.

“Fuck, ___, please.”

You giggle at his reaction. You rub the cum into your skin with his still hard cock before it can drip down and create and even bigger mess. Your tits are all shiny from his cum when you’re done.

A shaky breath bubbles from Jungkook’s mouth when you stroke him once more, for good measure. “Pretty sure you got every drop.” He taps your elbow, motioning for you to get up. “Come here.” He pats the bed. “Get on all fours for me.”

While you get comfy on your knees on his bed, he takes off his clothes. Jungkook pushes your dress up your ass, the fabric bunched around your waist.

Jungkook slides one finger between your legs, slowly tracing your pussy through your panties.

“My dick in your mouth got you so wet, huh?” He pushes your panties aside, uttering a soft groan at the sight of your slick pussy. “So needy for me.” He bends down and you can feel his breath on your folds.

“Jungkook, please,” you whine.

“Please?” he repeats. “Such a well-mannered girl.” His tongue darts out, licking a stripe across your pussy.

You’re so incredibly sensitive, been yearning for this for so long, that you back arches immediately, thighs starting to quiver at Jungkook’s mild torture with his tongue.

Jungkook moves to your clit. He switches from little flicks to your nub and sucking on it, creating wet and filthy noises. He’s skilled with his mouth – perhaps a bit too skilled for your liking. But right now, you don’t have the energy to think too deeply about it, you’re just focused on the tingling pleasure that shoots through your tummy.

“Right there, Kook. Don’t stop.”

You watch him through the mirror – the way he is keeping your cheeks apart with his hands, face buried between your thighs, fluffy hair bouncing along with his movements. So handsome, so pretty, so yours.

“Pussy tastes so fucking good,” He mumbles, his fingers sinking deeper into your skin.

“So close. Wanna cum, Jungkook.”

Jungkook hums against you, the vibration making your breath hitch. It’s just his mouth on your pussy, but he knows his way around, knows how to make you squirm.

The pressure builds, winding tight in your core, seconds from snapping. “Jungkook,” you gasp, voice wrecked. “I’m–”

He groans into you, gripping harder, and that’s it—that’s all it takes. The tension in your body breaks all at once, pleasure hitting so hard your vision goes hazy. A choked sound spills from your lips, legs trying to squeeze shut, but he doesn’t let you. Just stays there, working you through it, dragging it out until you’re nothing but shivers and gasps, completely undone beneath him.

Only then does he pull back, breathing heavy, lips slick and swollen. He looks up at you through the mirror, something dark, almost possessive in his gaze, and swipes his thumb over his mouth like he’s savouring the taste.

You look back at him, smiling at his shiny face. His lips are covered along with his chin and his nose and a bit of his cheeks.

“This is, like, one of your best looks.”

“What, fresh out the pussy?”

You giggle. “Yeah,” you mutter, swiping your finger over the tip of his nose to clean him.

“I could have my face buried down there forever. I don’t think you realise how good you taste.” You feel his finger spreading your folds. “But I know my girl is very needy, so she wants cock, hm?”

You sigh, melting into his touch when you feel him slap his dick against your pussy instead. “You know me so well.”

The dick slaps are so wet, and your haze-filled mind craves nothing more than for him to shove his cock inside you, raw and deep, filling you the way you need – no barriers, no hesitation.

But Jungkook is actually able to still form sensible thoughts through the horny haze and grabs a condom from his nightstand.

He doesn’t tease you much before he enters you, just slowly, inch by inch, sliding his cock inside you.

“You good, baby?”

“Uh-huh, you can move.”

You gasp, the feeling almost overwhelming but exactly what you wanted. His hands grip your hips, pulling you back toward him as he starts a steady pace from behind, each thrust making your head spin.

“Missed this pussy,” Jungkook rasps, sneaking one hand down to your ass to spank it, eliciting a surprised moan from you. “So tight, so perfect.” He grabs a handful of your ass. “So mine.”

He fucks you rough, doesn’t give you any chance to think of anything but him. Your hands are clutching at his covers, holding the fabric tightly in your palms.

You feel him spit down on your ass. He rubs his finger over your puckered hole, making you whine and bite your lip at the feeling.

“Oh, Jungkook.” He slides his thumb inside, just the tip of his finger, and yet it feels like so much more, the pleasure intensifying.

“You’re such a slut for me, aren’t you?” he asks, not stopping his relentless pace. “Love getting all your holes filled. So, so dirty.” Contempt is dripping from his voice, and you can’t help but have your pussy throbbing at that.

“Just for you,” you breathe. “Just you, Jungkook.”

“That’s, right.” He pushes his thumb a bit deeper, making your fingers tighten around Jungkook’s sheets. “You’re my girl.”

Your heart is racing, pulse pounding in your ears, and all you can do is nod, your body responding to him without thought, your need for him overwhelming.

With his other hand he tugs at your hair, wrapping it around his hand and creating a makeshift ponytail.

“Look at how pretty you look.”

You turn your head to the mirror. Your back is fully arched, and Jungkook’s all over your, his muscled and tatted body towering over you with his cock deeply buried inside your pussy.

He withdraws his thumb from your hole, delivering another spank to your ass.

“Make me go fucking crazy,” he mumbles, wrapping his hand around your tummy and pulling you up against his chest.

“Kook,” you mumble, resting your head in the crook of his neck. You don’t know what you want, only that you’re feeling this irresistible pull to him, like you want to be even closer to him.

He lets your hair go, moving his hand to your tits and squeezing them.

“Cum with me,” he whispers into your ear, immediately sending shivers down your spine. “Look at yourself when you cum, baby. Want you to see how pretty you are.”

When he sneaks his hand that was wrapped around your tummy down between your legs and starts flicking his fingers over your clit, it’s officially over for you.

You still try to keep your eyes open like Jungkook told you so as you teeter off the edge, your climax consuming you. You watch him come undone too, his brows knitted together, and bottom lip caught between his teeth.

You’re weak on your knees, but Jungkook keeps you firm to his chest, not letting fall as he thrusts into you in a slower, sloppier pace. He peppers your neck and shoulders with little kisses, and you giggle a little, delirious on your high. Your hand reaches for his bicep and you squeeze it.

His skin is hot under your touch, muscles flexing as he holds you up, keeping you steady against him. The slow drag of his movements sends waves of overstimulation through your body, but you don’t pull away.

“I know, baby.” Jungkook hums against your shoulder, his lips still ghosting over your skin, pressing lazy kisses between heavy breaths. “Still with me?” he murmurs, voice low, teasing, as his fingers brush down your sides.

You nod, melting further into him, body pliant against his.

Jungkook pulls out. You whine at the loss. He tosses the condom on the floor – you're too spent to tell him how gross that is – and shifts on the bed, lying down together with you.

His arm drapes over your waist, pulling you close, your body naturally moulding into his like it’s second nature. His skin is still warm, his breaths deep and steady as he settles beside you.

You glance down on yourself – you’re a mess. Panties still on, just pulled to the side like he liked, dress bunched around your waist, evidence of him all over you.

“Can I take a shower before I leave?”

“Sure.”

You wait.

You look up at Jungkook. “You’re not gonna ask if you can join me?”

“I thought that was clear?”

You smile. “Good.”

“Hey – will you now tell me what you wrote in your journal about me?”

“I know we’re back to being friends with benefits, but please know your place.”

“It was worth a try.”

4K notes · View notes

kooktrash · 9 months ago

Text

effortlessly yours ✧ jeon jungkook

summary: in an effort to catch a break from the people around him, jungkook stumbles into a bar on the other side of town and meets you—the one serving his drinks. things happen quite effortlessly between you and before you knew it, you’ve welcomed him to change your life for the better.

✧ genre/au: banker!jk x bartender!y/n [she/her. afab]. strangers to lovers. smut.

✧ 16.9k words

warnings: smut. heavy plot. oc is lowkey broke as helll and jk is lowkey a chaebol but humble fr 😩. princess treatment. beware oc’s ex is taehyung and he’s not great. slow burn. smut—riding. missionary. oral [both receiving]. heavy make outs. heavy petting. breast play. use of protection. needy af. — jk’s friends kinda rude but also not? rich boys. financial problems. mention of economic differences. damn near love at first sight. everyone’s an ex boyf hater. oc forced to live with ex bc of money. love at first sight? jk is whipped :(. for once he’s not a fighter, he’s just a pretty boy with money to spoil his gf <3

song inspo: wasn’t looking — eliza, love between — kali uchis, blue — billie eilish, salvatore— lana del rey, I wanna be yours — arctic monkeys

I forgot but god bless @vngelicc for putting up with my constant plot changes and helping me out 💀

Many of your nights have been spent at this small place serving drinks to the same people, engaging in the same conversation, going through the same thing. Without a fail you’ve lived in this cycle of mundaneness and it drive you insane.

Nothing ever happened to you and when it did, it was never for the better. That’s what you’ve always thought anyway.

“Any Macallan? I'll have a glass,” You stared at the stranger with a blank expression, he met you with an unwavering gaze looking every bit out of place here as you felt.

He’s asking if you carry an expensive bottle of Bourbon that a place like this could not afford keeping in stock. If you did, no one here would want to pay the price of a glass. Compared to the regulars around the bar he clearly stood out to everyone. The college guys who lived a couple blocks down looked at him just as strangely as the two office workers down the bar did.

“We’ve got Buchannan’s,” You said plainly, taking his attention away from the aged jukebox in the corner that now had a big screen attached to it. It was your typical bar with its dark countertops, pool tables, darts, et cetera. It was the first place he could find on this side of town—clearly not a place of luxury.

“I’ll take it,” He tried to sound happy about it, biting down at his bottom lip as his phone screen lit up with notifications. He had nearly a dozen texts from close friends asking him what his plans were for tonight but he didn’t want to talk right now and they’d want to know why.

Soon you had his glass of whiskey in front of him and he was opening a tab while you helped others. You didn’t think much about the man aside from how attractive he looked. Many stragglers found their way here but after one night they’d return to wherever they’re from and never look back.

“You drink that expensive whiskey because you like it or because you can afford it?”

An older man spoke up from across the bar, looking at the stranger with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. He’s one of those guys that gets a few drinks in him and either wants to spark conversation or a fight. Part of you paid attention to the conversation, part of you looked at the line of messages on your phone.

“I’m sorry?” The guy from earlier asked seemingly unimpressed by the attempt to get to him. The older man was dressed in a dirty t-shirt and flannel while he wore some expensive suit like he’d just gotten off work.

“Or is it to impress?”

“Impress who?” A light scoff left his lips, looking around the bar, eyes hesitating on you for a moment. Aside from you there were a few others who might catch his eye but not enough for him to point out or feel the need to impress.

You weren’t even looking at anyone or him for that matter, your attention was solely on your cell phone and by the look on your face, whatever was on there was more important. Your bottom lip was caught between your teeth and your brows began to furrow with concentration as you tried to make sense of what you were seeing.

unknown: can we talk when ur done working?

unknown: it’s about us

What?

“Y/n maybe? I doubt any of us are your type—“

What? You looked up immediately at the call of your name, ready to make someone another cocktail or close someone’s tab. Instead you were called in the middle of a conversation that you wanted no part of.

“Another beer?” You tried to cut in and shut the regular up but it was a useless attempt because everyone around the bar was already staring at you—including the stranger. How did you miss whatever they were talking about? You were too focused on the texts from a certain someone that you had lost attention to people at the bar.

“What is your name anyway? I’ve never seen you here before,” The customer told him, ignoring you and trying to push for more talk. You just sighed and leaned back thinking back to your phone.

“Jeon Jungkook,” He said in his usual confident manner, gaze flickering to you for a moment but you were distracted once more, this time typing rapidly. You were pretty, too pretty to be serving these guys on a Tuesday night.

Another man appeared from behind a door holding more bottles of liquor. He looked indifferent to whatever was going on out here but when he looked at you, you said something. Jungkook was more interested to hear what that was than whatever the people around him had to say.

The two of you talked for a while and he distracted himself with his phone.

hobi: doubles tomorrow with jimin and jin? 🎾

jungkook: I couldn’t think of anything worse

jimin: watch urself

jin: and where’d u run off to tonight

Your coworker, Yoongi, looked at you with concerned eyes. You’ve known each other long enough to know when somethings wrong and Yoongi was able to tell so fast, “If you need to make a call just go, I’ll take over for now.”

His friend asked the question he’s been trying to ask himself all night. How’d he find himself here on the other side of the city with the only people to entertain him being drunks and… you?

“Is he always like this?” Jungkook found himself asking now that the man from earlier had moved on to someone else to bother. You looked ready to run out but stopped to look at him. Yoongi was giving you time to sort whatever problem you had at the moment but now a customer was talking to you.

You shrugged, “Yeah but he’s harmless, a little annoying but funny.”

jungkook: some bar but I’m leaving soon

Jungkook looked at you up close now. You wore all black, somewhere between casual but dressed up enough. From what he can tell you’re pretty, like an effortless kind of pretty. You barely cared to engage with him, completely unaware of how he looked you over.

“Can I close my tab?” He asked as he fished for his wallet.

“No problem, remind me the name,” Yoongi came up from behind you, hand on your back urging you to go and he’ll take care of it. Jungkook looked at him with disinterest as you ran off in a hurry and sighed, “Jeon Jungkook.”

jungkook: it’s boring

The place he called home was about thirty minutes away from the bar he visited a few nights ago. He lived on the upper side of the city where buildings towered sky high and rent was at high rates, lavish nightlife and lounge rooms he could spend all night in drinking with his friends. That’s why it baffled him to sit somewhere like the place he’d gone to and feel so comfortable. It felt secretive, a mutual understanding of where one goes when they want to be alone and have a drink—no matter how bad it is. He wouldn’t have been able to do that around here without running into someone.

“Have you decided who your date will be?”

No, he had not. In fact it was the last thing on his mind and something Jungkook would prefer to fully ignore. It’s all he’s heard about for the past month and he doesn’t think he can go any longer talking about it. A date to a charity event hosted by his parents was too overwhelming of a task. They have to be polite, well maintenanced, proper, et cetera. He’s sure he can call up whatever woman he’d taken on a date these last couple of years but not a single one did he find… good enough? Terrible phrasing but the truth.

“Have you?” Jungkook asked one of his close friends, Hoseok, as the two sat in his office wasting time before they could be done for the day. His office sat on one of the top floors of a national banking center just a few minutes from where he resided. He sat behind his black oak wood desk spinning a pointed leather opener against his notepad creating a small dent in it.

“Obviously,” Hobi rolled his eyes playfully, making Jungkook look at him seriously. “Will she be as embarrassing as the one last time?”

“I hope not, last year’s date was a total mess. I couldn't look your parents in the eye for three months,” He said back, sitting down on the black leather daybed just a few feet away from Jungkook. The office was big with tall bookshelves and floor to ceiling windows overlooking skyscrapers and the Han River not too far behind. There was a desktop with two monitors along with a laptop and television, a closet and storage room—even a few dumbbells and a treadmill in the corner. “Do you know how hard that is when your father’s the CFO of the company I work for?!”

“I couldn’t imagine the difficulty of that,” Jungkook couldn’t help but chuckle knowing firsthand how his dad can be when he feels disrespected—especially in front of the press while hosting an important, annual event.

“I’ve got dinner with the girl tonight, she’s been telling me about this friend who’s been dying to meet you,” Hoseok said with raised brows, “She’s pretty hot.”

“Who? The girl or her friend?” Jungkook asked, typing away on his desktop, searching for the bar he’d visited the other night. There was very little overview about the place, but he didn’t expect much anyway. It looked like it brought a decent amount of business to get by but nothing more than that. You must’ve been local to the area or why would you be working there? Hell, for how little you seemed interested in him, he couldn’t stop thinking about you. What was it that got his attention?

“Both,” Hoseok said in response.

Jungkook let out a small sigh watching the time pass by, “I’ll think about it.”

It was unlikely he ever would, he thought, attempting to focus back on his friend and who he was talking about. As arrogant as it might sound, there’s always someone dying to meet him. Usually it never works out and instead it’s used as a bragging right that they were taken out by him. He would like to meet someone organically, nothing forced or ingenuine. Someone he runs into and charms them without his reputation involved. How could he meet someone like that?

There was moisture lingering in the air as you left the small cafe you worked at during the week. It was midday and you wouldn’t have to be at work again till later tonight so the only thing on your mind was a good sleep.

You barely made it onto the bus when your phone began to ring and you put on your headphones to answer, “Hello?”

“Great, you’re alive. I was getting paranoid after the third ring,” Your friend said immediately once the call connected, “Are you off!”

“Yeah, until tonight,” You told her, staring out the foggy window of the overcrowded midday bus.

“Is Taehyung home? You want to come to mine instead?” Yeaun asked, sounding concerned but you just shook your head no even if she couldn’t see it.

“It’s alright, he’s not home anyway,” You said to her with a sigh, “I live there too and if he’s going to make a problem or it then maybe he should move out sooner.”

Yeaun was quiet for a moment, not sure if you were being serious or not. Or course it’s not the first time you and your ‘boyfriend—ex boyfriend—boyfriend’ break it off suddenly but this is different. You live with each other now and have for a few months. Why would Taehyung ask you to find a place with him if he was going to end it a few months into the lease? What an asshole.

“Alright, well I’ll talk to you later, maybe I’ll stop by the bar and catch up,” Yeaun finally said to which you mumbled back your response and ended the call.

You arrived at an empty apartment with a stack of blankets and pillows on the couch and a large bed with one person claiming it now. You tucked yourself into bed hoping that you ex boyfriend won’t be home when you wake up.

By the time the sun set and the only plan Jungkook had was to go home, he began to think about the place he visited a few days ago. There was nothing special about it but it was somewhat comforting—even with some of the elderly regulars getting on his case, he kind of liked it. It was amusing and harmless banter that he could put up with for some time alone. When he was off and his friend asked him to go out for dinner, Jungkook turned him down to drive across town on his own.

Like last time, the same people sat around the bar but a few new faces took up some of the tables scattered around. You stood behind the counter indulging in conversation with the bartender next to you and Jungkook found himself sitting at the corner of the bar top and away from the loudness.

“I see they didn’t scare you off,” You said once you spotted him alone. There’s not many new people coming by, especially ones that looked like him so he was easy to remember. He looked at you with rounded, curious eyes and shook his head, “Not yet.”

You asked if he wanted the same as last time and once he said yes, you were turning your back to him. He’s going to be honest… he couldn’t help but stare a little longer this time. You wore a short black skirt with dark stockings and a fitted tee making you seem casual and comfortable but at the same time he thought you were pretty. He couldn’t tell if you were into makeup or not but he assumed you’d be attractive either way. Last time you seemed glum, but tonight you were smiling.

“Am I that forgettable?” Jungkook asked when you made your way back to his side, he nodded toward the old man who bothered him last time and how he barely acknowledged him today. He wonders if he asked because he cared or because he wanted to have something to say. There was nothing better going on and unlike before, tonight he's up for talking—to you.

“No, he’s just a Drunk,” You whispered jokingly, moving just a little closer his way. To be honest, he nearly forgot all about you. The two of you had such a small interaction days ago that his life just got in the way. It felt meaningless and like it was never going to happen again but here he is, finding comfort at the little bar you worked at. He couldn’t help but be entertained by it.

“I asked my boss about the bottle you wanted last time and he said we can’t afford it for just one person, so you’re out of luck if you start stopping by more often,” You said casually, looking indifferent but he caught a glimmer of curiosity in your gaze.

“I’ll have to bring you some then,” Jungkook sat up straighter, “Give you a little taste.”

“I’m not into whiskey,” You gave him a small shrug, “I prefer the drinks where I can’t taste the alcohol.”

That made him laugh a little harder than he needed to, “Y/n, right? I think I remember hearing one of them say it.”

Your only form of response was a nod of your head but he didn’t mind the lack of enthusiasm. There’s something about the way you seem reserved but not scared to talk back to him sort of draws him in. You looked at each other with the same intensity and he wanted to see how long it could go.

“Y/n.”

You rushed away from him finding whoever needed help and he thought of what to say.

“So how many nights do you spend working here?” He asked once you came by him again. So far both nights he stumbled into this place you’ve been behind the counter with a blasè look to your eyes. It was a shame considering how pretty you were for you to be stuck behind a counter getting stressed over who knows what.

“Practically all of them,” You sighed leaning against the counter.

Jeon Jungkook doesn’t care for meaningless conversation ike this. It was such a waste of time and he always found himself struggling for what to say.

“So what happened the other night?” He blurted out before he could think clearly. He blames it on the whiskey for sounding so blunt as it rushed to his face. You couldn’t read him as easily as he thought and tried to figure out what he was asking about. The other night?

Oh.

“Nothing too concerning,” You brushed off your breakup with Taehyung hoping he knew nothing. The situation with Taehyung was not someone you wanted everyone to know about—especially not a stranger. It was embarrassing to admit you were still living with your cheating on and off ex boyfriend because it’s better than sleeping outside.

“And here I was hoping for a story time,” Jungkook muttered under his breath, checking his phone and the dozen messages and missed calls. Like earlier, you left him to help someone else and this time instead of him trying to find something to say it was you.

“If you start visiting more regularly maybe I’ll fill you in,” You said half-heartedly.

You’ve always thought—hoped—that home is where the heart would be. You should live in a place that doesn’t give you anxiety or depression. Living in this apartment with your ex boyfriends gives you both. When he was home you’d avoid leaving your bedroom at all and when he’s gone you’re worried about the time he’d get home.

You weren’t scared of him, but you hated him.

The two of you have broken up so many times at this point it’s embarrassing to admit how he has you now. After cheating on you and treating you like shit, you still moved in with him just those few months ago and now you’re paying for it.

“Are you going to work?” He asked curiously as you came out of your now solo bedroom. Taehyung was gentleman enough to sleep on the couch but apparently not enough to keep it in his pants.

“No,” You answered shortly as you slipped your shoes on. For some reason he thinks you’ll forgive him soon. He’s been trying to talk to you about it since the morning after he bothered you at work but you weren’t listening. How could he do something on impulse and expect you to let it go?

Are all men this stupid? Most? Oh, definitely, but surely not all? Who would want to be on good terms with a cheating ex so recent after the breakup?

“What are you gonna do then?”

What he really meant was, “Where were you going and who with?”

“Nothing,” you closed the door after yourself, choosing to shut him out rather than tell him anything. He didn’t need to know your whereabouts. For once you weren’t going to be at work and although you didn’t have big plans for your free night, you weren’t going to tell him or worse—spend it locked up in your room that still had his belongings.

You settled into place at your best friend’s place, filling her in on what’s been exciting or lack thereof.

“Not to feed the delusions but what if he’s stopping to see you?” Yeaun asked as you sat on her couch watching her look through her vinyls for something to play. After a while of telling her boringly endless tales of your life you came to the topic you were currently discussing.

Jeon Jungkook—the irregular-regular who’s begun to frequent the bar lately. Jungkook has been coming by for a few weeks now and although they’re always small interactions with him they leave an impression on you. He’s not like the usual guys who go there for a drink—or anything like the ones when you go out with your friends. Every now and then you wonder if he’s catching a flirty tone with you or not but then you think harder and tell yourself; not likely.

It’s too unbelievable,” You rejected the idea immediately even if it hurt you to do so, you had to be realistic, “He probably has a girlfriend or wife or someone, I don’t know.”

Call it a crush, whatever, nothing would ever come of it and you told your friends the same, “Either way I’m done with men, they’re all shitty.”

Yeaun shrugged, no longer pushing the idea of Jungkook. You haven’t told her anything that made it seem like Jungkook had any interest in you at all so really she was just wishfully thinking. You know very little about the man aside from what the two of you have gone over but it’s enough for you to know it would never happen.

You’re not crazy enough to believe otherwise.

Jungkook spent most of his day dreading for him to leave work and get ready for a dinner plan that was arranged for him. In all honesty, he practically disassociated himself from it the second he heard the tone the woman spoke in. Why did he let Hoseok talk him into doing this?

For nearly an hour he’s had to hear this woman compliment him on everything under the sun. Sure he was flattered but so? Did he really need to hear about himself from someone else? She didn’t seem like a bad girl but she knew too much about him that he never told her. She was too in his space and not understanding to slow down.

“I’m happy our schedules aligned to be able to meet like this,” She said as she picked at her salad, “I know you’re very busy.”

“I’m pleased too,” Jungkook raised his glass of wine to his lips, searching around the restaurant for a clock. Jiwon was a sweet girl but he wasn’t interested for some reason. She was attractive like Hoseok said but he’s not sure what is but there’s something that seems to draw him away from her.

By the time the bill came and she pretended to look through her mini bag for her wallet, Jungkook was ready to call it a night. He never expected someone with him to pay but something just drew him back… seriously what was it? She waited outside with him in hopes of knowing if their night would continue from here or not but Jungkook couldn’t wait to be done. He probably seemed rude with how he brushed her off and directed her into a cab, paying her fare with a lie that he’d see her again, but he couldn’t think of that right now.

It was taxing to meet new people and try to feel anything romantic toward them. Jimin is looking out for Jungkook and he’s well aware of that but Jungkook does not want something forced. He’s not asking for birds chirping and bells chiming but give him something that’ll make him feel things.

When he was alone in his car he found himself taking a familiar route in the opposite direction of his house. He’d left his date with Jiwon and for some reason was heading toward the bar he’s been going to lately. It took him a while to realize where he was going and about a block away he stopped to think.

What was he doing here? He could find any shitty bar where he knew his friends would never go and be just fine. He could be out with his friends or maybe getting to know Jiwon more in hopes of something blooming but instead he was going out alone. It was a bad idea to make this a regular thing. People he knows will begin to question where he goes and invade his privacy, he just knows it.

With a deep sigh he turned the engine off looking up at the brightly lit building in front of him. It was a small convenience store and deciding to not make his drive all the way over here pointless, he went inside.

He is starting to believe the universe in playing a trick on him. Whenever he’s gone to the bar you’ve been working at and tonight he decided not to go… bummed that he wouldn’t see you but clearly the universe had plans that couldn’t get changed. Instead of serving two drinks to customers, you’re walking down a refrigerated section of cheap flower bouquets. It’s like he was going to run into you tonight one way or the other. Just because he wasn’t going the bar after all didn’t mean he could escape you as easily. It was crazy.

You hadn’t yet spotted him as you opened the door to grab one of the cheapest bouquet of orchids you could find. It wasn’t until you were ready to walk back down that you saw him looking a little too interested in the small pints of ice cream. There were two options you could do, One: pretend you don’t know him and head to the counter or Two: acknowledge him? What if he was the kind of person that didn’t like being approached? It would be embarrassing for you.

“No work tonight?”

You stopped in your tracks, ready to walk past him when he spoke up. You looked around shyly, “Not tonight, Is that where you’re headed now?”

“Originally yeah, but good thing I changed my mind. You wouldn’t have been there,” Jungkook said, glancing down at the small shopping basket in your hands. He missed the way your face flushed at the comment, unsure if he meant it flirtatiously or not.

You had the small orchids, a couple ramens and drinks in the basket that made him smile just a little, “I’m assuming you live around here?”

“I wouldn’t be working here if I didn’t,” You say lightly, a smile playing on your face when you saw his, and glanced down at your basket with embarrassment. All Jungkook had in his hand was a single bottle of wine that he grabbed so he wouldn’t look strange approaching you, “Do you live around here too?”

“No, I uh, I’m kind of far actually,” He scratched the back of his head nervously, “But, I was doing some work over here.”

His face tensed at the way he must have sounded lying to you. It wouldn’t have been a good look for him if he said he went on a blind date with someone his best friend set him up with but raced here right after. It feels like the conversation shouldn’t end yet but he doesn’t know how to make it go on. Usually he’s able to tell what he should say to get someone’s attention on him for longer but he doesn’t know with you.

After a while, you began walking toward the register with Jungkook not far behind and you tried to act normal when you set your things down to be checked out.

Please, don’t decline, you thought as you tapped your card to pay. When you were done and hesitating to leave or not, Jungkook spoke up again, “When do you work next?”

“Why? So you’ll visit me?” You asked him with a little more enthusiasm. Maybe you were overthinking it but was there a chance that he wanted to talk to you too? It felt like he asked you something so you wouldn’t rush off before he was done paying.

He smiled, pleased to have you respond the way he wanted and he grabbed his things off the counter and turned to walk with you. You held your bag in one hand and your cellphone and wallet in the other and it was hard to miss the way your screen lit up with a phone call. You ignored the ringing but Jungkook was distracted now, “Do you need to take that?”

He held the door open for you wondering if it was your boyfriend or not and if he was just wasting his time. You shook your head, “It's no one important.”

“So you’re not seeing anyone?” Jungkook found himself asking, too impatient to beat around the bush any longer, “Or would you like to see me this weekend—or when you’re free— over drinks?”

You didn’t say anything for a moment, staring up at the handsome man in front of you with a baited breath. Jungkook was attractive, very attractive but did you need to be seeing anyone right now? Sure, it’s been a couple weeks since you and Taehyung fell off but you still live together. If he found out he would lose his shit… but at the same time…

Jungkook was intriguing and charming and so attractive you couldn’t wrap your mind around anything else.

“I’m free this upcoming Sunday.”

Before you split ways, you made sure to exchange information and you were practically rushing to tell your best friend.

jungkook: next time we should have stuck around and talked longer

When Sunday evening rolled in, Jungkook wore one of his black Prada shirts and black jeans. He tried dressing casual but this was as casual as he could go for seeing you out on a night like this.

“I could meet you halfway,” Jungkook insisted on the phone as he stood outside your building. It was a rundown apartment complex just like all the others in the area and even he felt unsafe, he can’t imagine how you feel every night. Okay, maybe he’s not used to anything outside of the private, gated community he grew up with.

“It’s fine, I’ll be down in a second,” You practically whispered as you hurried to hang up. With a final spritz of perfume, you left your bedroom as quiet as possible but it was no use. Taehyung sat there watching you.

“I’ll be back late so don’t wait up,” You practically grumbled as you went to put on your heels.

“Since when do you dress like that?” Taehyung asked with a slight scoff. Unlike your usual attire of baggy pants, sweaters, tees and the occasional skirt, tonight you wore a short, satin pink dress with heels to match. You looked pretty and it annoyed him because he knew why.

“Since I stopped being with you,” You told him, fishing for your key before closing the door on him like last time.

It took a lot of convincing on Jungkook’s part to let you let him pick you up and you had many reasons why. One, you didn’t want him to run into Taehyung or feel awkward. Two, you didn’t want him to drive all the way here if you’d most likely be in the inner city which was on the other side of town. And three, you were slightly embarrassed at your housing complex. You’ve seen Jungkook’s dress attire and the expensive watches, chains, drinking preferences he wears. He’s got money while you’ve got two jobs still struggling to pay your half of the rent on top of all the debt tied to your name.

“Well don’t you look stunning,” Jungkook said with a nervous chuckle as you approached him, eyeing his all black Porsche and how perfectly it matched him. The silk of your dress felt soft against his touch when you hugged him politely in greeting. You were slightly flushed by his comment and let him lead you to the passenger’s side.

“Were you waiting long?” You asked when he got into the driver’s side, looking you over one more time before starting the car.

“A l-little,” Jungkook couldn’t help but feel flustered as you turned your body enough to look at him better. Your dress rode up on your thigh and he tried to focus on the road, “But it’s my fault for being impatient. Next time I’ll give you all the time in the world if I get to see this pretty view.”

To be clear Jungkook has always thought you were attractive but this was different. This wasn’t just him finding the bartender serving him drinks hot or the woman at the convenience store pretty. This was you dressing up for him in a pretty color while sitting pretty in his car and looking at him with your pretty eyes.

“Next time?” You laughed softly, sitting upright and trying not to seem affected, “Don’t make promises just yet. You might not be able to keep them.”

“I always keep my promises,” Jungkook said, diving over the small bridge that separated your neighborhood from the rest of the city.

You went quiet after that, looking out the window curiously. Usually you stick to your area, the bus fare to go shopping downtown or eat at a fancy restaurant wouldn’t be too bad but the time. On the bus it would be at least an hour long drive full of stops everywhere in between and you didn’t have the time to make it a round day trip. It was nice seeing all the city lights when most of your neighborhood is dark aside from the occasional street lamp.

You were pleasantly surprised when he pulled the car in front of a large building and a valet came to the doors, directing you both out of the car. Jungkook instructed the valet on something you didn’t care to hear as you looked around. It was obviously a hotel but with a large restaurant inside.

“Ready?” Jungkook asked, suddenly at your side with a soft hand on your waist and you let him lead you in.

You felt oddly out of place when you looked around at everyone else but Jungkook didn’t seem to care. He was significantly underdressed but that didn’t stop him from pulling attention without meaning to and it made you slightly more comfortable. The restaurant sat on the top floor of a large hotel with a beautiful view of the city and amazing interior as well, “Do you like this place?”

“I have never been here before,” Jungkook admitted as he helped pull your chair, “I’ll give you an answer after dinner.”

“You’ll decide once you’ve gotten food?” You asked playfully but he just shook his head. “I’ll decide when you do.”

You weren’t sure how to respond but something about the way he looked at you told you he was being serious. Has he always been this forward? You didn’t think so. Usually he asked you a couple things and that was it. Or maybe you didn’t think there was any more to it. Sure, sometimes you’d catch him looking from across the bar but you always assumed he just needed something. When he asked you out the other night you assumed it was on a whim but now you’re not so sure.

It was far from a problem but you weren’t sure how to take it. Something tells you Jungkook comes from a different world than you do. When the server came you ordered a drink and tried to focus on the menu. All the prices were high and you couldn’t find anything in your normal price range. There were a lot of good options but what were you willing to choose?

“So, when you think of an ideal type, who comes to mind?” Jungkook asked, picking around his plate. The two of you had talked about practically everything you could on a first date. He was a couple years older than you, worked at a banking firm, lived in the upper east luxury apartments, studied abroad, et cetera. He learned that you have two jobs and dropped out of school because it was too expensive and honestly…you thought you lost him then. You thought he was unimpressed and no longer interested judging by the look of disappointment in his face but then he asks you what your ideal type is?

“Hm, I don’t know,” You started awkwardly, feeling his gaze shift toward you and looked you in the eye waiting, “Well I would want someone honest… and loyal bu—“

You stopped yourself feeling embarrassment edge on, it was ironic of you to say that was your type when clearly the past men you’ve been with have been anything but. A light scoff left your lips as you laughed a little, “I don’t know.”

“That’s it? Shouldn’t that be expected?” Jungkook asked. He was very loyal to his partners in the past but those relationships have long since been over and hold no meaning to him. He didn’t even think he wanted to date—considering how bored he was when the Jimin set him on—but here he was having the time of life trying to get to know you.

“Alright, well what about you? Maybe I need an example answer,” You joked, trying to shift the attention off you but Jungkook didn’t hesitate.

“I want someone I can relax around?” Jungkook was honest, “Someone I want to introduce to people close to me and someone that makes me think about them all day.”

“How do you decide who that person is?” You asked, moving your hair off your shoulder as you ate.

Jungkook smiled, “I don’t know. I just feel it.”

You talked about random things here and there. He explained what exactly he did at the banking firm and you told him your aspirations to be a hair stylist when you were younger. He asked why you never pursued it and you told him financial issues which made the conversation slightly awkward but it never ended.

By the time you finished and Jungkook footed the rather expensive bill, you rode down the elevator peacefully and walked out the building. Once the valet brought the car back around, you were less nervous to be riding in it than earlier and sat comfortably.

“I hope you don’t mind but I got you something,” Jungkook said once he was seated, “I wanted to wait till after dinner and then I forgot it.”

He reached under his seat where he had placed a small box earlier. You sat beside him watching him feel around for it, “Oh you didn’t have to—“

“I wanted to,” Jungkook said, placing a small box on your lap as he drove onto the street, “Think of it as a thank you for coming out with me tonight.”

“It’s nice but… isn’t it too much?” You swallowed dryly, looking at the simple Cartier bracelet, scared to even touch it, “I don't know what to say, thank you?”

“Don’t think about it, I just… I liked it and I wanted to gift you something,” Jungkook said honestly. He liked giving gifts and yesterday he was shopping for a new watch with Jin and he ended up finding the bracelet instead. For some reason he thought of you and before he could stop himself he bought it. It was one of the simple ones, not that expensive at all so he hopes you don’t think he’s stingy with money or anything. He’ll get you something better the next time you see each other. He cleared his throat awkwardly, “Do you need help getting it on?”

You nodded shyly, unsure if you should take the gift but would it be rude to turn it down? What did he expect you to do after? You don’t mean to compare but Taehyung would never give you something like this. The most he spent on you is when he helped you get a new flatscreen but even then he only paid for half of it. When the car stopped at a red light, he quickly shifted in his seat to reach you better. With a hand around your wrist he pulled you forward as he helped you with the clasp. He was quite particular with how it looked on you and made sure the pearl motif sat at the center of your wrist.

It didn’t go unnoticed how he held your hand now as the light turned green. You didn’t pull back and let his thumb graze over your soft knuckles, “Pretty.”

Confusion rendered you silent on the ride back. It’s not that you were ungrateful but you were skeptical. You’ve never met let alone gone out with a man like him and you had no idea what to make of this gift. Was he seriously giving it to you or did you have to do something to earn it? Was he interested in you or just bored? Would a man like him just give someone a thousand dollar bracelet for no reason?

“You can just park right here,” You mumbled quietly as you pointed to a spot in front of your building. He opened your door for you and looked up at the building. Earlier he missed how the street lamp flickered giving everything a ghostly shadow. You let him walk you up feeling slightly embarrassed by the appearance of the staircase and hall but he didn’t seem to mind.

“Thanks for everything, seriously,” You said as you stood at your front door. At some point his hand had found its way to yours again and was softly running his thumb against your knuckles, “Are you sure about the gift?”

“I don’t accept gifts back,” Jungkook laughed softly, “Besides, it looks better on you than it would me. I’m showing my gratitude for having you out tonight. I enjoy your company.”

“Good, I like talking to you too,” you smiled warmly and he couldn’t help but mirror it.

“So when can we go out again? What’s your schedule like this week?” Jungkook asked hopefully.

“So you’ll visit me or take me out?” You asked playfully, more forward than earlier and his smile grew.

“Both, perhaps?” He asked.

Now, you don’t usually do anything on the first date. There was a big ‘If’ about the possibly of going out with the person again but Jungkook has been better than you could’ve imagined. It doesn’t make sense why he’s single and interested in you of all people.

Before you could think of what to do, he was moving closer. His touch was soft but there was no denying the way his hand wandered up to your waist, pulling you into him gently. You wrapped an arm around his neck before you could overthink it and leaned onto your tiptoes. Jungkook smiled, his other hand cupping your chin and tilting your face up. His lips brushed against yours teasingly, taking a moment before pressing them together in a first kiss.

You both were nervous at first but it was like something inside you came to life and you kissed him with more intent. Jungkook welcomed it, smiling a little into the kiss as he pulled back to catch his breath.

“I should go inside,” You giggled softly, turning away feeling flustered.

A small sigh left his lips, holding you close to him, “I’ll call you.”

It took less than a week for Jungkook to reveal to his close friends who the mysterious person he’s been seeing was. He was not trying to keep you a secret at all but there was only so much he wanted to say to them all and it was the basics. You were a just nice girl he’s met and went on a date with, but even that was enough for all the interrogations to arise.

“So how far did you guys go?” Hoseok and his hyper sexual mind felt the need to ask, “Or were you a true gentleman and settled for a hug?”

“We kissed,” Jungkook said, licking his lips at the memory, dealing his own cards for their next round of poker, “I’m taking it slow as of now.”

“Why’s that? The gala is not too far, shouldn’t you be focused on who is attending with you?” Namjoon asked, ashing his cigarette in the tray to the left of him. Jungkook ignored half of what his friend said as he readied to play.

“Y/n seems very different from me and I just don’t want to scare her off just yet,” Jungkook said honestly, thinking back to your reaction when he gave you the bracelet. He, of course, never assumed you came from much money especially considering he knew where you worked and lived but it wasn’t a problem to him. He was more worried if you’d manage in his life with the people he’s close to. It’s something he often wonders when the possibility of a relationship comes to mind but usually this is weeks into dating. The two of you have barely gone on one date and for some reason he’s already envisioning the future and what it could look like.

“Holy shit, that’s like a thousand bucks,” Yeaun looked over the bracelet, “And he just gave it to you? Where can I find a guy like that?”

“I guess,” You said, shifting your eyes to Yoongi as if he had the answers. The two of you stood behind the bar while Yeaun sat at the counter. It was early in the evening and you’ve been since 2:00pm and ready for your shift to end. Your friend’s been here ‘studying’ for over an hour but she’s been too distracted listening to your date stories. The bar was empty aside from a couple stragglers who got off work early but nothing crazy and it put you at ease.

“Does he know about Taehyung?” Yoongi asked curiously.

“No, it was a first date. I didn't think I had to dish out all my problems so soon and scare him off,” You joked as you looked down at the bracelet, “Besides, who knows how long this will last.”

“Have you talked since then?” Yeaun asked, leaning against the counter with interest.

“A little, yeah. He works at a bank so he’s got long hours at the office so I don’t really expect him to reach out to me much,” You told them honestly, “And who knows, it might’ve just been a one time thing.”

You shrugged it off like it wasn’t a big deal but part of you wondered if he’d reach out for another date or not. He said he would but who knows. People make promises all the time.

“Ugh, but he sounds like a dream—a dream with money,” Yeaun pretended to swoon as she gathered her things and stuffed them into her book bag, “Alright, I’ve gotta go home and study, keep me updated though. Bye guys.”

You waved her off and turned to Yoongi as he polished some glasses. He gave you a small sigh, “I like the guy, he always tips well.”

As your shift came to an end and you left Yoongi to deal with the night people, you got on the bus to take your usual route home.

jungkook: will you be working tonight?

you: I just got off actually

jungkook: I wanted to see you :(

You read the message at least three times unable to think of a response.

jungkook: have you eaten? shall we get dinner?

Just as you hurried to type, your phone began to ring and a smile came to his face, “You really are impatient, giving me no time to answer.”

Jungkook smiled as he drove over the familiar bridge that closed the gap between you, “Sorry, I’m not used to waiting. What are you doing then?”

“I’m on the bus, a couple stops away from home,” You told him looking at the passing buildings and the way the sun had fully set now, “What time do you want to meet for dinner?”

“Now?” Jungkook asked, “I’m not too far from your place, I’ll wait—or better yet what’s the next stop and I’ll meet you.”

Jungkook’s Porsche looked strange parking at The bus stop waiting for you and you felt slightly embarrassed by your appearance. Compared to last time you were nowhere near as out together and it was clearly evident you’ve just gotten off work. Jungkook was in his office attire but he still managed to look good.

“If you had given me a little more time I would’ve gotten dressed up for you,” You said light heartedly as he greeted you with a hug and kiss on your cheek.

“But I like seeing you like this too, reminds me of that black skirt you wore the first night I met you,” Jungkook said, taking your hand in his, “So where’s the restaurant you were talking about?”

Something has begun to really sprout between the two of you. Part of it still feels superficial to an extent but that’s how it’s supposed to feel. You’re not supposed to jump into anything so fast…

Yes, you’ve been meeting up a lot more regularly but you still keep each other at a distance. When you meet it’s usually out and tonight Jungkook wanted to be somewhere comfortable with you. He understood you got off work at the bar late and the last thing you wanted to do was go out so he opted for another way he could see you.

“Can I come over instead?” He asked as he sat at the bar one night. It was late, Yoongi had shut the music off and the lights turned on giving everyone a hint that it was closing time. Jungkook had arrived a couple hours before midnight to keep you company. Now that you’re closing he knows there’s a chance the night would come to an end soon and it’s the last thing he wanted. He had a stressful day at work that involved a meeting with the CFO—his father, about some reports. It spiraled into a conversation about the gala and who he thinks Jungkook should go with.

He had wanted to tell his father then that he wasn’t interested in being set up on a date because he had you but he struggled saying it. He doesn’t know where the two of you stand but he wants to figure it out. Jungkook watched you wipe the counters as Yoongi counted registers and he even helped wipe down a few chairs for you as he waited for a response. If the people at the office or his friends saw him cleaning up after strangers they’d laugh in surprise. He wasn’t the type to get his hands dirty and that’s exactly what he’s doing just to be with you.

Usually you always changed the subject when he asked, or hinted at him to go somewhere else instead but it was so late nothing would be open. Taehyung would be asleep if he was home but that was very unlikely. It was the weekend and he was most likely with his friends getting drunk somewhere and looking for an after party. There’s a chance he wouldn’t come home at all so what excuse did you have to turn Jungkook down?

In the end, you gave in and once the bar was closed, Jungkook drove straight to your apartment. He climbed up the familiar stairs, walked down the familiar aisle and stood behind you as you unlocked the door, warning him about a possible mess. Now, you weren’t cruel. Jungkook wasn’t walking in completely blindsided by the idea that you had a roommate but you weren’t totally up front with him. He knew your roommate was a guy but he wasn’t so sure about the relationship between you two.

Taehyung was half-asleep on the couch and Jungkook looked at him with furrowed brows as he followed into your room. You sighed, “Sorry, my roommate’s here.”

“It’s fine,” Jungkook said with a shrug as he began to unbutton the cuff of his shirt so he could roll the sleeves up, “How do you know him again?”

He wanted to ask more but he had to be patient.

“Do you want me to be honest?” You asked nervously but he nodded his head and waited.

“He’s my ex boyfriend. There’s still over six months on our lease but we’ve been broken up for… I think as long as I’ve known you now. We’re stuck living together until the lease is up,” You confessed in a single breath, “He sleeps on the couch now.”

“Your ex boyfriend?” Jungkook looked at the closed door, imagining the man who slept on the other side of it and his chest tightened. Why didn’t he just move out or why didn’t you? Was it a money issue, no one to let you crash out their place?

“Yeah but don’t worry, we don’t talk at all,” You tried to reassure him but you could tell he was too busy in his head, “What are you thinking?”

“Is this you?” He asked, holding up a picture frame in hands and staring at who appeared to be you but years younger. A small smile played on his lips that made you feel flustered as you took the frame from him, “Yes, don’t look at it. I was in a phase.”

“I can tell,” he joked playfully, looking around for something new to take his attention. Admittedly your place was small and it seemed like you had everything that expressed you shoved into your small bedroom. He understood you lived with someone else but is that what it’s like? What in this room belonged to Taehyung? You once shared it so there had to be something and that didn’t sit right with him. He had no need to get jealous but it made his throat dry to think about.

“What? You didn’t have something you were obsessed with growing up?” You asked, sitting against your row of pillows as he took a seat on your armchair. There was a vase of orchids on your vanity and books surrounding him as he stayed back.

“I was hyper fixated on water polo as a kid,” He confessed randomly, “But then there was an accident with my horse and I couldn’t do it anymore.”

“Wait, that’s kind of sad,” You sat straighter, “But water polo?”

“Yeah, I switched to rowing and tennis when I was in college,” Jungkook said, and you looked at him curiously. Even in his business attire you can tell he had a lean, muscular body and you couldn’t help but stare. With an awkward clear of your throat you looked away, “Would you like a drink?”

“I can’t, I have to make it home tonight,” Jungkook said with a sigh as he stared out the window to his side. It was late and he wanted to spend more alone time with you but he probably couldn’t.

“Already?” You asked patting the left side of your bed as if calling for him. He looked between you and the spot, heart beating fast and he thought about it.

“Oh, if you insist,” He watched the way you rolled your eyes playfully, and laid back in your bed a little more, “You know, for some reason I’m comfortable around you even though we still don’t know each other that well. I think you did something to me.”

“Like?” You asked with a hint of amusement.

“You’re easy to talk to and I’m not used to that,” Jungkook said, noticing the distance between you getting smaller, shoulders nearly brushing against each other, legs angled in and your hand right in his reach. He took it shyly, looking over the bracelet he gave you last time.

Jungkook was being honest now. He doesn’t understand how or why but once he met you, he felt good.

“You like me that much?” You smiled teasingly and he couldn’t help but smile too. In the beginning he always took you to be indifferent. You didn’t pay more attention to him than you needed to and clearly you had things going on in your life that stressed you out.

When you began talking to him he finally got a hint of interest in your part but he found you hard to read—he still does. You smile more often now and joke around, go out with him, but want more. If you’re closed off because of the relationship with the guy who slept outside the bedroom then he really can’t stand him.

“I do,” Jungkook smiled harder, leaning into you, “And I’ve been thinking about kissing you again.”

Alone in your bedroom with a guy who’s nice and handsome and charming and… overall dreamy made things hard to resist. You kissed him shyly, lips pressed against his and he felt himself sink into your bed even further. His hands found the belt loops of your jeans and he hooked a finger using it to pull on top of him. You both were still dressed in your work clothes but neither of you seemed to care.

He hugged your hips, soft lips hungry for more of your touch and his mind went blank. Your hands cupped his face and you didn’t shy away from his wandering hands that snuck under your plain black tee and felt along your spine. With your body pressed to his, you rolled onto your back with him following after you, never wanting to break apart.

You don’t know how long you stayed like that, kissing heavily and hands roaming but never straying too far. He didn’t push you for more even when you felt the way you affected him. Instead he kept the pace mutual, made you feel good and cared for.

By the time your lips were too swollen and sore, you had to pull back. His breathing was heavy and his hair was a mess of tousled black hair. He looked more of a wreck than you did and you couldn’t help but laugh softly trying to fix the collar of his white button up.

“I’ve got a meeting in a few hours,” Jungkook mumbled against your skin as he checked the time on his watch. It was way past midnight and he had to be ready by 7:00am. The drive home was nearly a half hour and he hadn’t prepared himself that well. As much as he wants to stay in your bed he knew he had to go.

You whined softly, hugging him closer before easing off. You let him stand up and he tucked the part of his shirt that had slipped out and attempted to fix his hair. There was an obvious bulge in his slacks that he tried to ignore even when you looked so inviting. It would be so easy for him to fall back into bed and keep going but he had to be responsible. Sadly, responsibility came in the form of having self control and remembering he’s got work tomorrow.

“I’ll walk you out,” You said with a small sigh. It was late and you had to be up early for the morning shift so it was right to end things. You needed to get out of your jeans and into bed. The two of you left your room quietly. His hand was on your waist, following you blindly out with his shoes in his hands and a calm smile.

“I'll call you tomorrow,” Jungkook whispered his promise as you unlocked the front door. He stood in the brightly lit hallway now. The goodbye was sweet and he found himself lingering behind when you shut the door. He couldn’t make out the full conversation but your ex didn’t seem to have been sleeping at all.

“Who was that?” Taehyung asked, sounding tired or irritated. He was laying down but with the light from the hall shining in you can make out the shape of his open eyes.

“A friend,” You said blandly.

“Can you do me a favor and keep your friends out of here?” Taehyung asked bitterly, “It’s my apartment too. I’ve already given you the room, the least you can do is respect me enough to not bring guys over on my bed.”

He stood alone in his office, trying to take a break from the busy day he’s had. Back to back meetings, lunch with his father, endless paperwork, hearing Hoseok scold him about not going further with you, etc., he needed a break. His phone sat on his desk and it was taking everything inside him not to call you. He’s tried distracting himself with the view outside his windows but it wasn’t working.

“I’m just saying, what’s taking you so long? If you actually liked this girl wouldn’t you have gone for it?” Hoseok asked with a shrug of his shoulders, “She’s got you whipped and you haven’t even done anything, that’s crazy.”

“It’s not even like that, Y/n’s just…” Jungkook looked nervous like when he had a school crush and would get teased about it, “I wanted to—she lives with her ex.”

“Red flag,” Jimin chimed in from his corner of Jungkook’s office, “Why?”

“Because she still lives with her ex, obviously. There’s still something there or else she would’ve moved out by now don’t you think?” Jimin explained making Jungkook run his fingers through his hair anxiously.

“Maybe money’s tight. Y/n said their lease still has another six months,” Jungkook bit his lip.

“Help her pay to end it then, duh,” Hoseok said with a shrug, knowing money wasn’t a problem for him or his friends, “Free her from the shackles of past relationships.”

This time Jungkook didn’t say anything because he was too busy thinking about it. He could help you pay it off, maybe even find you a new place but would you want him to? You always seem so tired after working both jobs and although he hasn’t made it official, he doesn’t like seeing the person he’s dating stressed all the time. He could easily take the weight off your shoulders if you let him.

“Isn’t Jungkook’s problem that he hates dating women after his money? Why are you volunteering him to pay for some random girl’s rent?” Hoseok asked with a scoff, “The girl I set you up with would never, FYI.”

He rolled his eyes, sinking back into his chair, “I don’t care about that girl. I care about Y/n.”

“So make it official, offer her help, and take her to the gala. Boom!” Jimin clapped like he solved world hunger.

He was going to, he planned to at least, he was just thinking of how to do it. It should be something simple but for some reason he’s nervous to do it. Everyone has already been nagging him about his personal life and as much as he’d like to keep you to himself, part of him also wants to show you off. You’re not what he expected

When he was alone in his office, he spent his time thinking about what you could be doing right now and how badly he wanted to see you. All you’ve done is make out and he wants to do more but he’s also happy about the pace you’re taking things. It seems right. He’s not jumping to get into your pants and you’re not running to his pockets. He respects you and finds you too stunning to let go even if you lead different lives.

After work, he headed right to where he’d find you and you were talking with some college guys who ordered shots at the bar. They were in some university jackets and seemed perfectly content taking up your time.

“Are those for me?” Yoongi asked, stepping out from the walk-in fridge of alcohol. He pointed at what Jungkook was holding and it seemed to catch your attention too, finally making you look over at him. Your eyes softened, standing up as he got to the bar.

He held a large bouquet of orchids, various types of the flower, some pink, some white, a little bit of both, a hint of yellow. They looked pretty and he held them out to you as he responded to Yoongi, “Sorry, hyung. Maybe next time.”

“I didn’t know you were stopping in tonight,” You said, taking the flowers graciously. Now that you’re sort of seeing each other he hasn’t been stopping regularly. Usually he sees you in your free time and occasionally if he goes to the bar but it’s usually at the end when not many people are left and you’re about to close.

“I meant to call but I forgot, forgive me?” He asked with a teasing smile, eyes glazed over as he watched you, “I just wanted to ask you something.”

You didn’t hesitate to step out with him, alone in front of your job, clutching the bouquet in your hands.

“So, I’ve been kind of pushing it off because I’m not sure what you’ll think, but I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately and I can’t wait much longer to ask,” Jungkook started off with a nervous scoff, “And now that we’re out here and I’ve distracted you from work, it’s probably shitty timing but—“

“Jungkook,” You said, looking up at him, “What do you want to ask me?”

“Will you go out with me? I mean… I know we’ve gone on a few dates here and there but I don’t think to keep going with this without asking you for a relationship. I want to get to know you more and more and I don’t want to think about you possibly misreading my intentions and I just… really want to be your boyfriend,” Jungkook finished.

A smile spread on your lips as you leaned into him, one hand around his neck while the other held the bouquet from falling. His hands fell effortlessly on your waist, pulling you closer, feeling you nod your head against him, “Is this a yes?”

“Yes,” You kissed his cheek, “Orchids are my favorite also.”

“Really?” He asked feigning surprise, “I guess I was lucky picking them out.”

“Are you staying for a drink?” You asked pulling back despite his hold.

“I don’t think so, I’ve got another crazy day tomorrow and I’ve got some errands to run. Do you close tonight?” Jungkook asked, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, “You work too much?”

“I work too much?” You asked with a laugh, “You’re the one with back to back meetings.”

It was oddly endearing seeing the way he pouted despite his tough exterior. He wore a black suit and his hair was combed back, driving his usual Porsche but then pouting at you rather cutely and delivering you your favorite flowers.

“You’re right, I’ll take a few days off and spend all my time with you,” Jungkook said playfully, “If you think I’m clingy now just you wait.”

“Okay, okay,” You pushed against his chest lightly, “I have to get back inside before Yoongi kills me. Thank you for the flowers.”

“Mhm,” Jungkook bit his lip, keeping you close to him still as he refused to let go of your hand, “Can I get a kiss before you go?”

You sighed, pretending to find it bothersome but let him pull you back. You kissed him goodbye with a promise to call him when you get home and went inside as he drove off.

The flowers looked pretty in the clear cylinder vase you fit them into once you got home that night. You ignored it when Taehyung slammed the door and set the flowers on your vanity, smiling a little to yourself as you got ready for bed.

It took a week for him to officially ask you to be his date for the event of the year. He wanted to appreciate the tranquility he had with you at least a little before he brought you to everyone close to him. He didn’t want your opinion about him changing but he also wanted to show you off finally. In the end, he asked you over dinner and you had no reason to turn him down.

You didn’t fully understand what he was inviting you to and the gift he left for you one day only left you more confused.

“Just try it on, baby,” Jungkook urged you on as he busied himself in your bedroom while you stared at the box on your bed, “I’m sorry I couldn’t find anything better at the last minute but you’ll look beautiful either way.”

He already thought you looked pretty with how you styled your hair and makeup, you just needed a pretty bustier gown with orchids to match. It was a vintage Dolce & Gabbana dress that accentuates your figure nicely. Your neck looked plane but he fixed that with a few gold pieces and rushed you out the room. Taehyung wasn’t home—not that either of you cared if he was—but if you could avoid him the better. You didn’t need him looking at you some type of way and you’re sure Jungkook could go without it too.

“I could’ve found something to wear, you didn’t have to,” You tried to say but it was clear he wasn’t listening.

“I wanted to,” Jungkook fixed the cuffs of his suit, checking the time on his watch. “We’ll be late if we don’t get going now.”

When he first told you about the charity gala, you weren’t sure what to expect. Maybe a few auctions, some guest speakers or small press but this was so much more than that. Hundreds of people filed into the large venue, chandeliers held high and disco balls spinning. Everyone wore suits and beautiful dresses who wore them more confidently than you did yours. There were performance acts happening all around you and a few people you’ve seen on television in attendance. Without meaning to, you leaned against Jungkook as he navigated through the seating and found your table.

“Look who’s finally decided to let us meet his girlfriend,” Someone said from the table as Jungkook searched around for his place card. Usually, he sat with his parents and his brother and his family but he started with his friends first. The others were busy speaking on stage and right now the guys seemed less intimidating.

“Y/n, this is Jimin, you’ll learn he never thinks before he speaks,” Jungkook joked, making you want to smile but unsure if you should.

“You clean up nicely for a waitress,” Someone else said and Jungkook looked up immediately. Hoseok was obviously joking—perhaps to impress the girl he’s been seeing and the one he set Jungkook up with for a date [who was surprisingly on Jin’s arm now]. One of the girls snickered, making your brows furrow.

“Don’t be an asshole,” Namjoon told him off, directing Jungkook to sit down, noticing how ready he was to speak up.

“You’re prettier than he said,” Namjoon told you with a polite smile. Jungkook’s hand rested on the back of your chair as he looked around for his parents before asking you, “Just ignore some of the stuff they say. I’ll handle it.”

“I’m not worried,” You admitted, sitting straighter as you looked at your name plaque on the dining set in front of you. He smiled down at you, “You are prettier than I first said.”

“So what’s it like busting tables, Y/n?” Some woman asked you and Jungkook turned, clearly annoyed. He couldn’t understand why Hoseok would bring the girl he went on a date with to the gala as Jin’s date instead. It didn’t make sense and once again his dear friend was bringing questionable guests.

“About as pleasant as your company,” You said with a smile, “Perhaps a bit more, I’d assume? I don’t know, I'm not a waitress.”

You were a bartender and a cashier, if this random woman is going to insult you could she at least be accurate? Either way, there’s nothing wrong with being in the service industry but judging by everyone around the table, they all look down it. You looked at Jungkook, in his designer suit, wearing the designer dress he bought you and feeling very obviously out of place.

“I’m gonna go to the washroom,” You whispered to him and concern flickered in his eyes. Your hand barely grazed his shoulder as you stood up and he placed his hand over it keeping you from leaving just yet.

“Everything okay?” He asked, not caring for anyone else at the table but you at the moment. You nodded with a gentle smile, “Yes, I’ll be right back.”

When you left the table it seemed like everyone was able to catch a proper breath, all looking at Jungkook as if he had something to say. He didn’t let you get too far out of his sight before he stood up too.

“Where are you going?” Jimin asked with an amused expression, “I want Y/n back, she’s cute.”

“I’m gonna find us better company,” Jungkook said as he looked at the women and Hoseok, “Sober company.”

“Come on man, we’re just messing around,” he said turning to Jin hoping for some help but Jin chose to stay out of it, “She’s great, honestly. Not what I expected.”

“Hobi,” one of the girls complained but Jungkook was taking his drink and leaving.

You tried to fix your appearance in the mirror but there wasn’t anything specific you could point to. There was just something that felt wrong and maybe it was being here at all. Maybe you’re moving too fast? You’ve already agreed to go out with him and you have strong feelings for him but if those are his friends… and these are the parties he attends… maybe you’re not cut out for it.

The women were flooded in designer and a sort of elegance you’re sure you didn’t possess and the others seemed just as luxurious. You work two jobs to keep a shitty roof over your head while you’re attending a ball in a dress worth more than what you make in a month. You might act like you’re not nervous but you’re anxious. It feels like you’re pretending to be comfortable. Do you deserve this sort of treatment from him? All he’s done since you met him is keep you company, shower you in gifts, listen you every word you said, and… brought you around those close to him but were you right for him?

He seemed too good for you.

“I was beginning to think you ran out on me,” Jungkook said with a chuckle as he watched you jump in surprise. He stood near the entrance to the washrooms and waited for you to come out for what felt like forever.

“You really are impatient,” You teased as he pulled you into his arms, pressing a kiss to the corner of your lips, “Is everyone still at the table?”

“Probably,” Jungkook said, taking your hand in his and walking through the crowds, “But I’m sick of them, let’s do our own thing for now.”

Jungkook was as attentive as ever. He introduced you to anyone who came up to him and he looked genuinely happy to have you there by his side. You haven’t been seeing each other for long at all, but it feels right. At one point you reunited with his friends, except Jimin was off somewhere with Jin and the two girls. The rest welcomed you just fine and asked you questions about yourself. Sometimes Jungkook would say something about you that you had no idea he knew. Hoseok found it adorable how he spoke for you with a sense of pride or excitement. It was obvious to anyone who paid attention that Jungkook felt strongly for you and you for him. Although hesitant to let you in, you seemed to charm your way with his friends and it made him happy to see how well you fit in.

“Leaving already?” Namjoon asked when Jungkook made his rounds of farewell to everyone he knew.

“Yeah, we’re… tired,” Jungkook said but the smile on his face said otherwise, “And it’s late.”

“Hm,” Namjoon seemed amused as he looked down at the arm Jungkook had around your waist and how it ran along your hip, holding you close. The two of you looked like proper lovers on their honeymoon and he couldn’t help but laugh, knowing neither of you were close to tired—just ready to leave.

He smirked, “Have fun.”

“What did that mean?” You asked as Jungkook led you out but he just shrugged. Valet brought his car and you got in with him.

“Don’t know,” Jungkook said leaning over the middle consoled to kiss you, “Will you spend the night at my place?”

“I don’t have clothes,” You said, smiling at the way he seemed to deject, worrying at his bottom lip.

“I mean… we won’t really need tha—“

“Jungkook!” You hit his arm playfully, making him laugh. He drove to his place with one hand on the steering wheel and the other on your thigh. He lived in a penthouse in the sky, at one of the most expensive apartments in the whole city. The entire ride up the elevator was filled with his rough hands holding you in his arms, telling you how beautiful you looked tonight.

“I can’t take too much credit,” You teased, arms around his neck as you went to the top floors, “You’re the one who picked out the dress.”

“It’s not about the dress,” Jungkook whispered, cupping your face in his hands, “It’s about the person wearing it.”

“And what about when I’m not wearing it?” You asked, stepping out of the elevator once it got to his floor. You walked ahead of him and he couldn’t help but look after you. Your hips swayed with each step, walking so effortlessly in a dress that accentuated your shape. It had his attention all night and he knew tonight was the night he’d have you. You were hard to resist but he was patient, he waited for the right timing to make sure what he felt was right and it was. He was so into you it was all he could think about.

“Y/n,” Jungkook called for you before you could skip too far from him. The two of you stood in the foyer now and he was taking your hand in his to keep you from wandering too far inside. His place was huge, the entrance alone had a level of class you didn’t expect. It was a two level penthouse with a grand staircase and pool on the balcony. Your heels created an echo that felt never endless and in the middle of the foyer was a rounded table with a small stack of mail and a large vase of orchids.

Now you feel bad always dragging him to your small bedroom in an apartment you shared with an ex boyfriend. It was something Jungkook never seemed bothered by—even when Taehyung would make a fuss about something—and that made you feel even more embarrassed.

You were too distracted to notice when he closed the space between you, hands on your waist as he pulled you against him.

“You’ve been handsy all night, y’know,” You teased him with a smile, turning in his arms to face him. He let his forehead lean against yours, and closed the space between your lips until you were kissing.

There was a hint of a smile into the kiss as he deepened it by dipping his head low, mouths moving in sync. Even with your heels, you couldn’t quite reach him and tried to lean upward.

Jungkook’s hands traced down your waist, falling to your hips and without pulling away, pulled you onto the table, sliding his mail to the floor. A light squeal left your lips, holding him tighter, “Jungkook.”

“I can’t help it,” He began to trail soft kisses down your neck, nibbling here and there to get a reaction out of you, “I’ve been good all the time.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, a cute and amused laugh that made him smile. One of the straps of your dress slipped down your shoulders and he hooked a finger into the thin fabric and pushed it back into spot. Jungkook didn’t hesitate to help you down from the table, not yet letting you go but walked toward the staircase “And I’ve got you all alone now. Nobody asking you for another round of drinks, or your… roommate, just you and I. I don’t think I can hold back any longer.”

With that being said, he guided you up the stairs taking you down a hallway toward the main bedroom. It was modern and dark with a wall of windows that overlooked the city lights. His bed was at the center with black sheets that he set you down and begins kissing you again.

Your hands ran down the front of his suit, pushed the jacket off and untucked it from his slacks. Every time you see him he’s dressed so nicely but you wanted to see what it looked like underneath. One time it had been late and last minute when he saw you and was dressed in a casual hoodie and sweats. You made out on your bed but never got far enough to take your clothes off. You know he’s muscular and lean but you needed to see it all.

Although your pace of undressing him was quick to your knowing, it wasn’t enough for him. He yanked at the buttons, pulling it off and your jaw nearly dropped.

"Tattoos?" You questioned with surprise, as he sat back on his haunches playing with the buckle of his belt. He unclipped the back of his silver watch, throwing it on the floor and pulled his belt fully out of the loops.

“Surprising?” He responded looking down at. Your dress was ruffled up around your waist and your legs looked smooth. You sat back on your hands to meet him halfway for another kiss and while his mouth was concentrated on yours and your tongues danced against each other, he slipped his hands down your back. Your dress had a lower back cut, barely held together by a ribbon that had been tempting him all night. How easy it would have been to undo it and kiss along your spine.

A soft gasp slipped past your lips and swallowed by his as he pushed the straps off your shoulder and let it pool around your breasts. He slipped it further down exposing more of yourself to him and he kissed down your neck. You were slowly fall back into his pillows with his mouth against your collarbone, guiding you to your back so he could take the dress off you.

He left wet kiss down your chest, hands tracing along your ribcage as you arched into him and your breasts fell and rose with each heavy breath you took. mouth left wet kisses down to your collarbone and between your breasts. You let out a sigh feeling his gentle touch and he cupped your soft mound, squeezing lightly before he brought his lips to your hardening bud.

“Is this good?” Jungkook asked almost shyly, tongue sneaking a touch on your nipple as his thumb swiped over it feeling it begin to stiffen. You could barely form words to respond when he repeated the actions a couple times.

"Jungko—ngh," you whined wriggling around a little for more. He looked up at you through a mess of hair and his teasing tongue flicked your nipple as his other hand groped the flesh of your left breast.

You touched along his back wanting to feel more of him pushing your breasts in his face and he drooled all over your boobs, sucking and licking your skin while you arched into him.

Once his tongue had grown sore, Jungkook moved along down your stomach pulling on it in hopes that he could get it off. With a small huff in annoyance, he sat back, looking down at your half naked body and tried to work out a way to take it off you. He raised your legs against his shoulders, sliding the flimsy fabric off and throwing it to the floor next to his shirt.

It didn’t go ignored the fact that you had been completely bare underneath, your pubic area exposed to him as you’ve gone all night with no panties and it was only now he realized.

“You had nothing under this entire time?” Jungkook asked, finally pulling his own pants down, not bothering to wait to get his briefs off and did them both at the same time. He barely gave you time to appreciate the veins leading down his V-line toward his hardened cock before he was leaning down to kiss you again, “If I would’ve known we would’ve never left your apartment.”

“Good thing I didn’t tell you then,” You said between gasps when he licked the shell of your ear, pressing his naked body against yours.

Tonight had been something he’s known for months and a yearly event that he needed to attend. If he had known and seriously kept you in bed you’re sure he would’ve heard an earful. You only chose to go bare so you wouldn’t get a panty line on the dress.

He must’ve liked your chest because he went back to your breasts hungrily latching onto a nipple again, choosing not to respond anymore as he got lost in your warmth.

Like earlier when he got the dress off, he hitched your right leg up until it was bent close to your stomach, exposing more of your wet pussy to his greedy eyes. Silky strings of arousal glazed over your folds making him run his tongue along his bottom lip. Jungkook was focused on your wet cunt, dragging a finger along the center where your juices puddled at your entrance. It was a wet, creamy sort of slick that coated his fingers and your clit.

You released a moan at stimulation, jaw going slack when Jungkook gripped your hips with his free hand and pressed you firmly to the bed. Making sure you wouldn’t squirm away, he dropped to his stomach, face between your lips as he went for a taste.

His lips were soft against your folds, eyes locked onto the sight of your puffy lips and let his tongue lick up the puddle of arousal. He practically sucked on it for a taste and left open mouth kisses on your cunt. You gripped the bed sheets tightly, legs threatening to shut but whenever you tried to squirm his head followed your movements.

Jungkook could barely breathe but it felt unnecessary as he nipped at your labia, sucking it into his mouth and letting your clit rut against the tip of his rounded nose. In all honesty, there was only one thing on his mind right now. He wanted to please you and make you feel good. He wanted to make you forget about any other guy and make you think of him and only him. His mouth closed over the stiffened clit suddenly and he began to lick and suck, feeling the outline of your slit get his chin wet like a dog lapping at water with thirst.

You had to be the sweetest thing to ever grace his tongue and it was making him lose his mind—aimlessly rutting his stiff cock against the bed.

Your head had fully tipped back, no longer paying attention to the pleasure he brought between your legs and sunk into the pillows, staring up at the ceiling moaning. Jungkook watched you succumb to what he gave you and he snaked a hand along your body, feeling the way your stomach caved in with deep breaths and settled a grip on your tits. His fingers were wet and he used the liquid to coat your nipples, rubbing them between fingers and quite literally tongue fucking you with your hips humping his face.

You were in ecstasy with his mouth slobbering all over your cunt. You couldn’t remember the last time you let someone touch you—pleasure you. It surely wasn’t with the ex you lived with. You stopped letting him in long before you broke up and even then he didn’t make you feel the way Jungkook did.

"Oh—" you moaned softly, hands in his

dark hair keeping him in place. He didn't say anything only guided you through an orgasm, feeling the way your legs shook and your breath hitched. Your clit twitched in his mouth and he tried to soothe the feeling with tender lips, tongue lapping at your release as you came down from your high.

Your eyes opened, looking right at the red tip of his cock, aching with need and pointing straight at you. He leaked with precum just from what he had done to you and he needed more. You tried to sit up on shaky legs, meeting him halfway for a messy tongue kiss, licking your arousal off his lips and some spit mixed into it. It was nasty but it made him grown with lust, especially when your hand snaked around his mushroom tip.

Jungkook dropped his forehead against your shoulder, staring down at your naked bodies and focusing on the hand you had on him. Your thumb was rubbing against the slit, smearing clear arousal around his head. His brows knitted together, a confused expression as you tried leaning back, managing to pull him into bed. It didn’t take long for him to get the hint and get on his back.

“Baby,” Jungkook tried to warn as you shifted to sit between his legs, leaning down to his stiff member. He was so close already and wasn’t sure how much he’d be able to handle before he had a chance to be inside you. A dry gasp left his lips as you went in without warning.

You flattened your tongue on the underside of his length, teasing a long lick from his base to the tip. Spit pooled in your mouth that you let drool out of your mouth and cover his tip, eyes on him the whole time. His eyes felt heavy but he refused to let them shut, wanting to see the way you took his cock into your mouth seductively.

A deep, throaty men left his lips as you swallowed as much of him as you could; never pulling your eyes off him and his head nearly tipped back with pleasure. Holding the base of his cock with one hand, you begin to bob your head setting a good pace, with your other hand on his muscular thigh.

Your eyes lock on the obvious muscles flexing under your touch, his abdomen more prominent than before and you eyed his tattoos curiously. Whatever you couldn’t fit into your mouth was jerked off by your free hand that would occasionally run a little lower to massage his scrotum.

You can tell he was close which left you with a sense of pride. Your nose pressed into his pubic bone, taking steady breaths as you flattened your tongue and relaxed your throat to fit whatever more you can. Jungkook panted feeling the throb of his cock as his tip hit the back of your throat.

You roughly swallow around him, suppressing a gag and resume to deep throat him.

"Fucking hell," he groaned tossing his head back in bliss, hand hiding his face as it scrunched together in pleasure. Moans were pouring out of his mouth, sounds muffled into his hand, "I'm so—close."

It hit him at once, hips nearly licking from how hard his muscles tightened with pleasure. His cock twitched warning a gag from you before he couldn’t take anymore. You didn’t pull away, swallowing what you could of his release.

Jungkook slowly comes down from his high, hand petting your hair. His eyes were hazy and his mouth dry. It felt like he couldn't move a muscle but he needed to feel your mouth on his. He could taste himself on you and with your aftertaste on his he wished to kiss more, pulling you onto his lap.

It was the best head he’s ever received yet his cock ached for more.

“Condom?” You asked, nipping at his ear lobe making his eyes roll. He didn’t bother to shift you off his lap as he blindly felt around his nightstand for protection.

He let you slide it onto his member, watching it bounce back up, too stiff to budge and held placed a hand at the base as you moved to straddle him.

The expression you made as you sank onto his length was utterly beautiful and you radiated a confidence in taking him that he hadn’t seen before. Every time he’d seen you has led up to this moment where you could finally be as intimate as you please and he wasn’t the only one jumping for the chance. He didn't push to move even if he really wanted to and instead let you adjust. He wanted this to be pleasurable to you too.

"Jungkook," you whined, hands flat on his chest making your tits perk up and he carefully shifted his hips, rolling them up to dig just a little deeper.

“That’s it baby,” he muttered under his breath, watching your hair fall forward as you tried to concentrate on his thrusts. You ground your hips against him and he watched your body shudder with pleasure. It was hypnotic the way you pulled him and he couldn’t help but lean upward, kissing one of your breasts as you rode his dick for the first time.

He groped at your ass, spreading the soft cheeks apart and rammed into you when you threw your head back with a whimper, "Feels good."

You threw your arms around him, suffocating him against your chest as he bounced you on his dick, moaning against your nipples and drooling. Jungkook's nail dug into your soft flesh as he lifted your hips up and down on his cock.

He felt stuck, unable to move his hips as much as he wanted to and with a low grunt, he rolled you onto your back, knees digging into the mattress as your legs wrapped around his waist, “Fuck, I can’t.”

You didn’t pay much attention to his words as Jungkook began to quite literally drop dick inside you, grinding his pelvis into you with each deep thrust and it felt nasty to be fucked this way.

A familiar ring of nerves clenching around his member as it sucked him into your folds. He wasn't going to last much longer either.

He hasn't slept with someone in months and it definitely didn't feel like this. He didn’t give it up to just anyone despite what reputation he might have, and it took him time to sleep with you. He had to feel intimate in other ways before he let himself feel the pleasure you brought him.

“Gonna cum for me?” He asked softly, kissing your jaw and hugging your waist as he dug your pussy out, feeling your nails claw at his back.

“Please,” you begged, snuggling into his neck and his chest tightened with want. He put more purpose into his thrusts, bringing you and himself so close to the edge that you would tip over any moment. You sounded too pretty begging for him to just ignore.

A wave of pleasure washed over you, skin rising with bumps as a shiver ran down your body. He held you tightly as you moaned in euphoria, coming undone once again. Jungkook couldn’t hold on much longer and your legs around him gave him no choice but to fuck the rest of length in you until he came into the condom.

You laid together for a moment, both shaking and softly petty each other as you came down. Jungkook’s fingers combed your hair back and you straightened your sore legs as you let him pull out.

You don’t remember much aside from the drowsiness and he cleaned you up better than you could’ve.

He lied back in bed, pulling the covers over your naked body and fell asleep in your arms.

Once the sun rose into the sky, sneaking into the bedroom through the blinds and waking you from a heavy sleep, you found yourself feeling sore. You attempted to stretch but Jungkook’s arm trapped you against him.

“What time is it?” You mumbled to yourself, looking down at your naked body feeling self conscious as you rolled onto your side to find your phone. It was somewhere out in the foyer with the rest of your things you’d forgotten.

The time on Jungkook’s alarm clock read ten minutes past the bus. You should’ve been on it and on your way to the cafe.

“Y/n,” Jungkook mumbled sleepily, sitting up a little to see what was holding your attention, “Back to sleep.”

“I’m going to be late to the cafe,” You said, attempting to get up but failing miserably once he pulled you back down.

“Who cares about that one, let’s sleep a little longer,” He said and although your heart raced, you can’t help but roll your eyes.

“Don’t you have work today? We’ll both be late,” You tried to reason but your now clingy boyfriend wasn’t hearing any of it.

“I’m in line to be CFO, I can do whatever I want and today I’m choosing to spend as much time with you as possible,” Jungkook said arrogantly but it was so easy to look past when he kissed your palm affectionately.

“Not all of us are as lucky,” You sighed, pressing a quick kiss to his lips as you tried getting out of bed. Instead you just ended up underneath him.

His smile was mischievous, “So I’ve been thinking…”

“Yes?”

“We already barely have time to see each other,” Jungkook said with a small pout, “And you live so far with someone who doesn’t deserve to see you as often as he does…”

“Well, maybe you should come stay with me. I know you said Yeaun doesn’t have the space to let you move in with her and I really don’t want you stressing about rent or living with someone you don’t want to live with,” Jungkook told you, slowly rolling off you once he felt he had your attention, “So what do you say?”

“You live far,” You tried to say, sitting up and clutching the sheets to your front. You weren’t completely opposed to it but shocked nevertheless.

“That’s why I think you should quit at the cafe,” Jungkook said eagerly, “That way you could focus on just one job and have so much more free time. I’ll take you or get you a driver—a car?, whatever you need to get to the bar. I know you like working there but at least you wouldn’t be running back and forth between jobs. I live far but I’m asking you, will you move in with me?”

“I have to think about it,” you sighed, sinking further into bed and the thought of getting up to answer missed calls from your job made you want to hide under the covers. You really did not like working there. It was early hours, shitty pay, and rude people. At least at the bar it was nighttime and the people knew you. And it would be nice to no longer live with Taehyung…

Jungkook couldn’t help but smile, pulling you into his arms knowing you were seriously considering it, “… And if you ever decide you don’t want to be at the bar either… you’ll be with me and have all the time in the world to do what you want.”

“You’re offering too much,” You said playfully, hugging him lovingly, “I’ll really start to think about it.”

“Please, I could give you whatever you want if you just let me,” Jungkook says.

In some strange, unexplainable way, he fell for someone so unlike him. It was effortless and comforting to the point that nothing would bother him about it and all he wanted was to be with you. He could ignore everything else, or solve anything just to be with you.

It’s like you’re what he’s been looking for and he’s what you need—someone trusting, reliable and loving.

Ever since he saw you buying orchids at the convenience store, he can’t help but think of them when he thinks of you. You remind him of one.

Beautiful, charming, graceful. It didn’t matter if you had different upbringings or experiences, all he knows is you’re fit for him and he’s fit for you. He’ll show you things you’ve never seen, treat you to luxuries and care while you teach him more about yourself. Let him really get to know you and what makes you smile.

To do that, you have to let him in.

“So no work?” Jungkook asked hopefully making you roll your eyes, trying not to smile.

“I guess not,” You sighed, feeling him begin to smile against you and hurried to stop him, “But I should still go home.”

“To pack?”

“No, to shower and get dressed,” You corrected him, laughing at how he whined, “Well talk about it more later, last night was…”

“A lot?”

“You can say that”

::.

haven’t posted in forever and I needed to drop something for yall 😭I hope you enjoy it when it’s out and pls bear with me lol. idk if it’s good I’ve been working on it for too long to tell There’s definitely errors and questions yall might have so pls feel free to send it in inbox!

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#jeon jungkook #Jungkook smut #jungkook imagines #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fic #jungkook scenarios #jungkook bts #bts jungkook #jungkook #jungkook fiction #jungkook fluff #jungkook one shot #jungkook drabble #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #effortlessly yours #bts smut

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muniimyg · 2 months ago

Text

BED CHEM // JJK

♡ extra: manifest that you're oversized

series m.list // taglist unavailable

warnings: smol argument (slight angst), jk and oc ignore each other for a few days,,, smut ! somewhat virgin au... jk guides oc and oc is unsure but curious the entire time !!! very domestic of them :') ,,, jk eats her out, jk lives out a fantasy and face fucks oc, oc tries cowgirl for the first time & jk takes over in the end lol. raw sex, both of them orgasm & get all mushy in the end <3

note: oh my gawd this smut took me so long to write . tmi one of the side effects of my meds is a lower sex drive so i haven't been in the headspace for this ,, i'm so happy i got around to it. obviously it's not perfect or even close to what i envisioned for them ,, but i also think that's what makes them so hehe haha .

enj !

tuesdays are never good.

jungkook decided this a long time ago. tuesdays are always the busiest—the most inconvenient and the longest. worst of all, with all of tuesday’s chaos—it means no you.

that’s what jungkook hates the most.

days without you.

but today is an anomaly.

a breath above water.

a break.

his lab professor extended their assignment deadline. his afternoon class got canceled. shit, jungkook even hit a new personal record at the gym.

not to mention that the weather isn’t miserable. for once, april isn’t pouring rain. instead, the sky is blue and the sunshines almost as brightly as you. currently, he’s on his way to surprise you with a matcha latte from your favorite cafe. which, was difficult for him to do.

“one iced matcha with oat milk and less ice please.”

god, it sounded so insufferable coming from his mouth… but it’s whatever. he’d do anything for you. you two have been together for almost one year and he’s utterly in love with you… he just hasn’t said it yet.

you talked about it every now and then… how your favourite moments with him are the ones where he initiates seeing you. ever since you verbalized that, he’s been keeping a list of random things he could do in his notes app. though it’s a small act, getting you a surprise matcha is on the top of his list.

your class should be ending right about now.

he timed his matcha gesture perfectly.

and it is, because just as he rounds the corner, he sees you walking out of the building. surrounded by a group of people. jungkook snickers under his breath. of course. you’d never just walk out alone like a normal person. you always have an entire entourage.

as everyone disperses, he reaches for his phone.

nerd [11:45AM]: so popular nerd [11:45AM]: u have time for ur bf or what ? yn [11:47AM]: it’s tuesday :( yn [11:48AM]: tuesday takes my handsome man away </3 nerd [11:48AM]: not today. i fought a few dragons, sailed across the 7 seas and crawled my way to u n shit yn [11:49AM]: HAHAHAA yn [11:49AM]: wtf are u on yn [11:49AM]: i’ll call u tn. focus on ur day. miss u :p nerd [11:48AM]: turn around dummy seen

he watches as you put your phone away and stretch your neck, scanning the area for him.

jungkook’s chest swells. but before your eyes land on him, someone else beats him to you. some guy—who jungkook assumes is a classmate—runs up from behind, surprising you.

you let out a playful scream, throwing your arms up as the guy engulfs you in a hug. and then—fucking then—he lifts you off the ground and twirls you around.

right then and there, jungkook feels his blood pressure skyrocket. irritation creeps up his spine, jealousy curling in his chest like a tightening fist. the guy sets you down, and you scan the area again. this time, your eyes find his. you brighten, beaming at him, and then—you point.

to him.

to jungkook.

your boyfriend.

and the guy follows your gaze, lifting a hand in acknowledgment. jungkook barely raises a hand back.

half-assed.

dismissive.

unimpressed.

then, as if his patience wasn’t already paper-thin, the guy pulls you in for another hug before saying goodbye. jungkook rolls his eyes as you do this. just as he shifts his feet to close the distance, you’re already halfway to him.

you tilt your head, pouting.

“hi baby—oh my god. is that for me?”

his gaze flickers to the iced matcha latte in his hand.

then back to you.

before he can answer, you’re already leaning in, wrapping your lips around the straw and taking a long sip—right from the drink he’s still holding. he watches as your throat bobs, as you hum in satisfaction, as your fingers brush against his wrist.

without a word, he reaches over, slipping the tote bag off your shoulder and swinging it over his own. it’s muscle memory at this point. second nature, the way he carries your things like they’re his.

you tiptoe, pressing a kiss to his cheek. he turns at the last second, catching your lips instead. you giggle, and like always, your fingers intertwine with his, your free hand still gripping the matcha latte.

suddenly and then all at once, jungkook can’t help but notice how pretty you are.

just like that, his mood begins to fade.

“how was class?”

“boring.” you frown. “i hate elective classes. they’re so extra for no reason. aren’t they supposed to be gpa boosters? what the heck are they doing assigning me exams and group projects? it’s painful.”

“it may be painful, but that doesn’t give you the excuse to be attempting to sext me during class.”

you glare at him.

“it’s really annoying that you’re a nerd and actually care about my learning.”

“right,” he huffs. “i’m a shitty boyfriend.”

“you are,” you agree easily.

silence follows.

but it’s not uncomfortable.

after a beat, you exhale. “oh, the guy earlier—he’s my first friend from first year. he just transferred, and his transcript has been all over the place. but he just found out his credits got accepted, so he doesn’t have to retake a class. fuck, i’ve been stressing for him all week.”

jungkook glances at you, voice softer now. “you shouldn’t stress over things that aren’t yours to stress about.”

“but he’s my friend. am i not allowed to care—”

“that’s not what i meant,” he interrupts, shaking his head. “you know that.”

you hold his gaze, the fight dying in your throat. you let it go.

“also…” you hesitate. “he invited me to his party on saturday. it’s a costume party.”

jungkook scoffs, rolling his eyes. “who throws a costume party in the middle of april?”

“the entire class is going.”

“okay,” jungkook says with a plain tone. “so what?”

“what do you mean so what?” you huff, stopping in your tracks to face him. “what’s with your mood?”

jungkook clenches his jaw. he doesn’t know. today was good—until he saw that guy hug you. “i don’t know,” he exhales. “sorry, baby. i didn’t mean to—”

“forgiven.”

he blinks. “that easy?”

“yes, because you’re coming to the party and you’re dressing up.”

he scoffs. “no, i’m not.”

“yes, you are.”

“i don’t do costumes.”

“well, you do now.”

he exhales sharply, dragging a hand through his hair. “babe—”

“don’t babe me.”

“i have a meeting with the dean about the marine conservation club and our potential donners. i’m not going to that stupid party and i was hoping you’d accompany me to my thing.”

you pause.

“you decided that for me?” you ask.

jungkook sighs. “i never said that. i said i was hoping you’d accompany me.”

“but you can decide right off the bat that you aren’t going to my thing because it’s not your crowd and it’s not important to you.”

he stares at you.

you glare at him. “newsflash, jungkook… i don’t give a shit about dolphins, but i do care about you. but there’s no way i’m going to your meeting with the dean to be your arm candy if you’re acting like this over a harmless costume party—”

“that’s hosted by some guy who clearly wants to fuck you.”

his words come out faster than his thoughts to filter them. he knows how you’re going to react. he knows he’s digging himself a grave right now… but a part of him doesn’t care. he’s upset. he should have the right to express his feelings and the reality of the situation.

your mouth falls open.

“what?”

he huffs a humorless laugh. “come on, baby… you really don’t see it?”

“see what?” you furrow your brows.

“he’s into you.”

you stare at him, brows furrowing. “jungkook, he’s my friend.”

“yeah? and how many of your ‘friends’ have tried to get with you? be honest with me… he at least had a thing for you, didn’t he?”

anger rises in your chest. “that’s not fair.”

“what isn’t fair? the truth?”

you gawk at him. “so what, you don’t trust me?”

“of course i trust you.” jungkook exhales sharply, looking away. he’s beyond frustrated at this point… and so are you. “i just don’t trust him.”

“holy shit, jungkook.” you shake your head, throwing your hands up. “it’s just a party. you’re blowing this way out of proportion.”

he doesn’t respond, jaw set, eyes fixed on the pavement.

“it’s stupid,” he breathes. “i’m not going. i don’t want you to go either, if i’m being completely honest.”

your face drops.

you don’t mind the honesty… you hate the audacity.

“you know what?” you walk forward and turn to him. with a final defeated breath, you tell him; “text me when you pick me over your stupid dolphins.”

then, just like that, you turn on your heel and walk away, leaving him standing there, fists clenched at his sides. jungkook watches as you shove the matcha latte into the nearest trash bin and storm off towards the direction of your home.

his feet feel glued to the ground for some reason.

the rational thing to do is run after you, apologize, and make up with you… but instead, he sulks. jungkook turns the other direction, choosing to be a complete idiot.

you don’t text him that night.

you don’t call him the next morning, either.

jungkook doesn’t reach out, but you catch him viewing your stories, and liking your tiktok reposts.

he lingers closely when you hang out with the guys throughout the week. like maybe he’ll say something. like maybe he’ll tap your shoulder and ask if you still want him to come. but he doesn’t.

you bump into him around campus once.

you pass each other—his eyes flick to yours, but you look past him. not out of malice. you just don’t have the energy for his half-hearted apologies or defensive silences. you don’t want him to say sorry because you asked him to. you want him to say sorry because he means it.

when thursday passes with no message, you wonder if he’s really not coming.

you wonder if he’ll just let this linger, like it doesn’t matter.

you go shopping with your friends on friday. pick out a costume that’s just silly enough to make you feel like yourself.

then it’s saturday.

and you still haven’t heard from him.

the party is lame.

you hate to admit it, but maybe jungkook was right. costumes in the middle of spring? it just doesn’t feel right. regardless, you're laughing at a story you’re only half-listening to.

you’re having fun.

you swear.

you’ve been having fun for the past two hours. smiling, mingling, keeping the energy light… but your phone’s screen is a little too smudged from checking it every ten minutes.

no texts.

you open instagram. he watched your story.

you close it again.

you’re mid-sip when someone bumps your side—not too hard, just enough to jostle the drink. you turn instinctively, lips parting to apologize, when you see him.

jungkook.

in his marine conservation blazer, white shirt crisp under the low light. tie loosened, hair pushed back like he’s been running his hand through it all night.

and on his head?

tiger ears.

he doesn’t say anything at first. just stands there beside you like he’s been there the whole time. then he glances down at you, voice low and casual.

“you waiting for your shitty boyfriend to text you?”

you blink at him.

“you’re a tiger.”

he nods. “roar.”

you snort. “do they even roar?”

he rolls his eyes, the corner of his mouth twitching like he’s trying not to smile. then he shifts, turning to face you properly. his hands find your waist without question, like that’s still his place. like you’re still his.

his voice softens.

“they roar. and they say sorry.”

you look at him.

"sorry," he adds. his brows are furrow just a little, like he means it. like he’s been thinking about it all night. like the headband was his way of saying i miss you in the dumbest way possible.

you reach up, adjust one of the ears so it’s standing upright again.

“well... you look stupid.”

“you like it.”

“unfortunately.”

he presses his forehead to yours, sighs quietly. you glance at the headband again, then back at him. he’s fidgeting with the sleeves of his shirt, refusing to meet your eyes. for once, jungkook looks nervous.

you soften.

“you didn’t have to come. we would've worked it out regardless.”

“i know,” he says quietly. “and i would’ve been here faster but the dolphins…”

“those damn dolphins,” you laugh.

he joins you.

then, a beat.

then he lifts his gaze, eyes meeting yours for the first time in days.

“i wanted to come,” he confesses. “i want to be wherever you are.”

and just like that, the fight breaks into dust.

you step closer, close enough to touch. your hand brushes his. he doesn’t move, but his pinky curls around yours like muscle memory.

you don’t talk about the argument. you don’t ask if he’s sorry. you don’t need to.

you lean in, voice lower now.

“one dance. and then we go.”

he rolls his eyes, but there’s the faintest smile tugging at his lips. “just one?”

“two.”

“three.”

the door clicks shut behind you.

you kick your shoes off with more force than necessary and drop your bag somewhere near the wall. jungkook follows behind, slower, undoing the top button of his shirt as he steps inside.

the silence isn’t uncomfortable. just thick. waiting to be cut. so here you two are—ripping the bandaid off.

you turn to face him.

“you were a dick.”

he nods. “i know.”

“and jealous. for no reason.”

another nod. “i know that, too.”

you cross your arms. “so?”

“so…” he sighs, tugging at the sleeve of his shirt like he needs something to fidget with. “i got in my head. and then i got mad about being in my head. and then i made it your problem. i'm sorry i said all that. but also, i don't think i'm wrong to feel intimidated by him. he's someone from your past.”

you watch him. you don’t say anything.

he finally meets your gaze.

“i trust you,” he says, voice quieter now. “i do. i just… get scared sometimes. that someone else will be better. smarter. funnier. more patient with me when i’m acting like a five-year-old.”

you blink at him. “you’re not five.”

he snorts under his breath.

“you’re like… seven. max.”

he huffs a small laugh, the tension in his shoulders easing just a bit.

“i should have considered why it could have made you feel uncomfortable. shit, you gave up tutoring just because for me... although you could have said it in a nicer way, i understand where you were coming from... and not to mention... you’re the smartest person i know,” you say with no hesitation. “i’ve never met a bigger nerd than you. i wouldn't worry about me dumping you for an even bigger nerd. don't think i could handle more nerdology behaviour.”

jungkook cracks a smile.

still, he huffs in frustration and tsks. “i… i just didn’t want to lose you over something dumb. i hate messing things up with you,” he murmurs.

you step toward him, hands slipping under his blazer, palms resting against his chest.

“you aren't messing anything up.”

his hand covers yours. his eyes flick between yours.

“i'm really trying, ___. i swear.”

you nod, smiling sweetly at him. “you did good tonight.”

“the ears?”

“the ears.” you smile. “very charming.”

he leans in slightly, voice lower. “wanna pet me?”

“maybe later.”

jungkook rolls his eyes before dipping his head low. he kisses you for the first time in so long and literally feels his heartache dissolve. you reach over his neck and kiss him with more passion. then, when you pull away, you murmur; “i’m sorry i wasn’t very patient. can you and the dolphins ever forgive me?”

“forgiven.”

kiss.

“that easy?”

kiss.

“you’re too pretty to stay mad at.”

jungkook is laid back against his pillows, hands planted lightly on your thighs like he’s not sure if he’s allowed to grip you tighter yet.

you’re straddling his lap, your fingers curled into the open collar of his shirt, your lips pressed to his like you’re trying to memorize the shape of him again. like you need him to know: i missed you.

his mouth moves under yours—eager, but letting you set the rhythm.

you pull back just a little, your breath shallow. “we were really mad at each other. didn’t even text.”

his eyes open slowly. “yeah,” he murmurs. “i hated it.”

you lean down, kissing the corner of his mouth. “me too.”

before he knows it, your fingers make their way to the buttons of his shirt. you begin to unbutton them, one by one. his breath shakes. this is only the third time you two have ever had sex… the first time you’ve ever initiated it, too. the first few times you two have had sex, it’s always been a little slow and soft. he’s always been sure to make it as easy as possible for you because, in your words, it feels weird.

you like it, of course.

it’s just different. losing your virginity recently to him is a completely new experience. in all honesty, he’s done everything right so far. jungkook is always so gentle and caring. but something about the way you look at him right now tells him that maybe… tonight that isn’t what you want. maybe, you don’t want gentle.

you want him…

hard. messy. hot.

“can you take this off?”

jungkook freezes.

then, his hand slides up your waist, thumb brushing under your shirt. “you’re sure? we don’t have to.”

he wants you to be sure. he wants you to know that sex is always in your control and that you get to have it your way. to finish your way… to start? this is new. it makes him nervous too… but excited more than ever.

your reply is barely a whisper.

“kiss me again.”

and so he does.

slower this time.

deeper.

one hand cups the back of your head, the other squeezing your hip like he’s finally letting himself touch you the way he wants to. the kiss grows hotter, messier—your teeth graze his lip, and he exhales a shaky breath through his nose like he’s barely holding it together.

“fuck,” he whispers. “missed you so much.”

you smile against his mouth. “good.”

jungkook is buried between your legs.

he kisses your thighs slowly, slightly lifting his head up for air. then, he reaches over to your hips and palms them, pressing some pressure. without warning, he dips his head low and begins to eat you out again.

his tongue flickers back and forth, fast and messy. he digs his nose in as he sucks your clit and pulls away. he takes his time, flattening his tongue against your clit. your toes curl, your head throws back, and your stomach tightens as the feeling.

“d-don’t laugh at m-me, okay?” you stutter.

he lifts his head.

“what’s wrong?”

“i… i t-think i might pee,” you pant. “i don’t wanna pee.”

jungkook chuckles, not mocking, just warmly.

“you’re not gonna. promise.”

your eyebrows furrow. “but what if i do? that’s so gross.”

“do you want me to stop?”

you nod.

“sorry.”

jungkook shakes his head and reaches over to kiss your forehead. “don’t apologize. let’s do what you want and what makes you feel good, okay?”

you swallow.

“w-what do you wanna do?” you ask him shyly. jungkook breathes you in, resting hs body on top of yours. like second nature, you wrap your arms around him and hold him close. he trails kisses on your neck as you murmur; “i wanna do something for you too.”

he smiles against your skin.

“we don’t have to do anything,” he tells you honestly. “we can just go to sleep—”

“do you wanna fuck my face?”

his breath hitches.

“uhm…” jungkook shifts and chases your eyes. you stare into his eyes and smile warmly. “w-what?”

you shrug.

“i wanna try it,” you confess. “and you mentioned it once jokingly… why not, right?”

he blinks at you.

before he can register this, you shift and slide lower down the bed. he lifts his body, following your lead and positioning himself. jungkook kneels over you, straddling your chest. his knees are on either side of your body with one hand on the headboard for balance… the other cradles your cheek, thumb swiping your puffy lips.

“if it’s too much—”

“i wanna take it,” you pout. “manifested for you to be oversized. this is me facing my consequence.”

that’s all it takes

as jungkook tilts his head with a playful smirk, he shoves his heavy cock inside your pretty mouth. he shifts his hips forward slowly, sinking himself deeper inside your mouth.

“too deep?” he asks, fingers brushing your hair back.

you shake your head, eyes watery but committed.

shakily, he lets out a deep and wrecked groan. he drags his cock out, bringing the tip to your lips to play with. you swirl your tongue around it, playing with his slit. he inhales sharply before you part your lips for him to thrust himself back in again. jungkook then slides his hand to cup the back of your head, lifting you just a bit for a better angle. the slight move causes you to gag around him.

his stomach sinks.

he pauses instantly.

“you okay?”

you blink twice at him and begin to suck him off. jungkook throws his head back, moving in slow and shallow thrusts. he tests the waters, as the headboard begins to creak.

“god,” he moans. “look at you, baby… taking me so well. i’m so fucking proud of you.”

then, his pace gets a little rougher. his hips roll forward with more intent, but his hand stays gentle on your head. he doesn’t force you to take more. when you moan around him, your nails begin to dig into his thighs.

“shit—baby,” jungkook begins to lose his breath. “say something… gonna cum just like this.”

you pull off for air.

“you can… if you want.”

jungkook hisses. “you can’t say shit like that.”

then, he leans over you, bracing both hands against the headboard now. he cages you in. his abs flex with each thrust, and the view of him above you—eyes wide, flushed chest heaving—is seared into your memory forever.

god, he’s so handsome.

you keep your hands on his thighs, letting him set the pace. he watches you the entire time, making sure you’re doing okay. it backfires, though because all he can notice is how your mouth stretches around him. how your eyebrows furrow and how your eyes flutter shut like you enjoy this.

spoiler: you do enjoy this.

then, he feels his body tighten.

he knows the feeling all too well.

without warning, he pulls himself out and with a groan—drops down to kiss you.

“gonna stop,” he pants. “gotta be inside you when i finish.”

you let out a laugh against his lips. “okay,” you agree. “want you to finish inside me too.”

with that, you feel your legs tremble when he pulls you upright. he kisses you slow and settles back against the pillows. his cock is angry, twitching between his thighs. jungkook pulls you into his lap.

you hesitate a little, as you swing a leg over. your knees rest on either sides of him. his eyes flicker to the way your hands hover above his chest. you look unsure… but also desperate. he can’t fight with that.

“what do you wanna do?” he asks gently, fingers tracing your thighs.

“wanna ride you,” you say shyly. “like cowgirl… b-but—”

“you don’t know how?”

“i’m gonna look stupid.”

he rolls his eyes at you. “not possible.”

jungkook leans in, pressing his lips to your shoulder. “take your time with it. you’re in control. i’ll help you figure it out, okay? do what you want. i’m all yours, baby.”

with that, he lies back as you grab the base of his cock rather awkwardly. you lower yourself down slowly. sinking inch by inch, you gasp.

“sorry—”

“don’t apologize,” he reassures you, as he reaches over and helps you line himself up. “here, like this.”

jungkook holds himself still while you slowly sink down. your hands are planted on his chest, steadying yourself. he groans as he feels your tight pussy clench. his hands grip your hips tightly. you let out a shaky breath in response.

you both pause when once you realize you’ve taken him in fully.

you catch your breath as his hands soothe up and down your sides.

“f-fuck.”

“you okay?”

“yeah,” you nod, taking a deep breath in. “just… big.”

jungkook chuckles, leaning in for a kiss. “your fault.”

you let out a small laugh as he rubs circles on your hips. you adjust, locking eyes with his.

“should i move now?”

he blinks at you. “yeah. try rocking your hips. you don’t have to bounce or anything—just move how you feel.”

you nod and try it.

it’s awkward at first, but his hands guide you. soon enough, you’re rolling your hips against his. the slow grind of your bodies both make you moan. you feel his cock harden inside you, and the sharpness is something you never expected to love so much. it feels so good. jungkook’s head lolls forward, kissing your breasts and then your neck.

he’s breathless.

“that’s it,” he praises. “good girl… you’re so perfect, baby.”

you lean in to kiss him. then, you pick up your pace. you roll your hips forward, grinding and humping him however your body wants to. he’s biting his bottom lip as your movements quicken and you begin to feel tingling in the pit of your stomach. you chase the feeling by riding him harder. soon, you begin to let out breathey moans.

“ohh,” you almost cry. “f-fuck. oh my god…”

“that’s it,” jungkook moans. “shit. just like that.”

you fuck him harder.

jungkook slaps your ass and you let out a whimper. as you two fuck, you begin to feel the pressure of it all weigh in on you. for some reason, as you look at him, you can’t help but pant and want more of this insane feeling.

“look at you,” he hisses. “you’re doing it, baby. fuck. you’re riding me.”

before you know it, you’re whimpering.

your grinding gets lazier but the high is still there. you’re out of breath, sweaty and tired. you’re still moving in his lap, but your thighs are burning. he looks up at you like he’s never seen anything more beautiful.

(he hasn’t)

“you okay?”

you give him a small breathless nod. even before you tell him with words, jungkook pulls himself out and reaches over to you. he checks in you.

“everything okay?”

again, you nod but your rhythm falters. your legs shake a little as you try to lift yourself and sink again. you whimper, frusterated at yourself.

“sorry—”

“hey,” jungkook murmurs, quickly sitting up. he kisses your forehead. “you’re doing so good. nothing to be sorry about.”

“i think my legs are giving out,” you murmur, nuzzling into the side of his neck. “but don’t wanna stop.”

he chuckles, running his hands up and down your back. jungkook kisses your jaw. “lay back for me?”

before you can even answer, he shifts—scooping an arm under your knees and the other behind your back, rolling the both of you with practiced ease until you’re lying against his chest, back to his front.

“this okay?” he asks, lips brushing your ear.

you nod quickly, already breathless as he hooks your thighs over his, keeping you wide open while he stays deep inside you. his arms wrap around your middle, pulling you in tighter, grounding you completely.

he starts to thrust again—slow, deep rolls of his hips that push into you from underneath, the angle making you whimper. your head tilts back onto his shoulder, eyes fluttering shut as you melt into him, letting him do the work.

jungkook fucks you like this for a while. you focus on your breathing and the feeling of him inside you. all your thoughts and efforts crumble when he places his hand over your pussy and begins to play with your clit.

“j-jungkook… i can’t—”

“you can.”

“i’m gonna—nghhh…. oh my g-god. jungkook!”

your body starts to tremble, back pressed flush against his chest, every nerve ending alive as he keeps grinding into you from beneath.

his arms stay locked around your waist, one hand splayed over your stomach, holding you still while the other toys with your clit—soft, steady strokes that match the rhythm of his hips.

“fuck—” you gasp. “jungkook—i think—i’m gonna—”

“i know, baby,” he whispers, his voice shaky but so sweet. “you’re close, yeah? it’s okay.”

his mouth is right at your ear, so gentle despite how deep he is inside you.

“breathe through it,” he hisses. “i feel your pussy tightening. you’re gonan cum soon and your instict is to hold your breath—don’t. i want you to breathe through it. want you to feel it all, okay? can you be a good girl and do that for me, baby?”

you whimper.

“uh... mhmmm... shit, shit, shit! nghh… i… i’ll try.”

jungkook fucks himself inside you deeper and harder. you hold your breath as you take him in, and then shut your eyes to exhale.

you breathe through your nose, trying to focus on his request.

and when you do—your body curling forward, a desperate whimper falling from your lips—he wraps you tighter in his arms, guiding you through it with slow, grounding thrusts, his hand not leaving your clit until you're twitching and whining from the overstimulation.

you cream his cock.

“you’re so perfect,” he breathes, kissing the side of your neck. “you did so good for me. so fucking good.”

you’re still catching your breath when he carefully lifts you off, laying you back down on the pillows.

“you okay?” he asks, brushing your hair from your face.

you nod, dazed, your skin flushed and glowing. he kisses your forehead.

“gonna finish, yeah?” he whispers. “just wanna be close.”

and then he’s sliding back in—slow and deep—his body over yours, elbows tucked beside your head as he holds himself up just enough to look at you.

“feels so good,” he moans, dropping a kiss to your cheek. “so warm.”

your hands trail up his back, pulling him in. his movements are less frantic now, more like he’s savoring it—each roll of his hips drawn out, every kiss messy and sweet.

“look at me,” he whispers, foreheads touching. “wanna see you when i cum.”

and when he does—hips stuttering, a low groan leaving his throat—you kiss him through it, soft and open-mouthed, your fingers carding through his hair as he falls apart right there, with you.

his whole body trembles, but he doesn’t move—doesn’t leave. just stays wrapped around you, breathing hard, kissing your lips again and again like he doesn’t want to let you go.

just like that, jungkook cums inside you—filling your pussy up with every ounce of himself.

you’re draped over him like a blanket, one leg tossed over his hips, face tucked into the crook of his neck. the room is quiet, save for the low hum of the fan and the slow, steady rhythm of your breathing as it evens out.

jungkook's fingers trace lazy shapes along your thigh, slow and thoughtless, like he’s just making sure you’re still there. still his. still real.

beside you, hello kitty stares from the edge of the bed. a little crooked. still wearing the ribbon he tied on her hours ago.

“you think she judged us?” you mumble against his collarbone.

his chest shakes with a quiet laugh.

“she was appalled. horrified, even.”

you snort.

“poor girl didn’t sign up for that.”

“we should apologize.” he suggests. “sorry, kitty.”

you giggle agaisnt his chest. then, you lift your face and say; “next time… i think the tiger ears should stay on.”

he stills, then looks down at you slowly—like you just said something criminal.

“what’s with you and props? if it’s not my glasses, it’s the tiger ears. what’s next? blindfolds and whips?”

“i’m dead serious.”

“oh, i know. that’s the scary part.”

you both dissolve into soft laughter, his fingers still moving along your bare skin. at some point, he tugs hello kitty into the covers, nestling her between your bodies like a little buffer. a witness, maybe. or a silent secret keeper.

your eyes flutter closed soon after. sleep is winning.

but jungkook stays awake a little longer. watches you. breathes you in.

and once he’s sure—sure your breathing is slow and even, sure you won’t catch him in the act—he leans down, presses a kiss to the crown of your head, and whispers against your skin like it’s sacred.

“___?” jungkook whispers, voice low and careful, like he’s scared of waking you.

he shifts a little, just enough to see your face in the soft lamplight. your lashes are fanned out across your cheeks, your lips slightly parted, breath slow and steady.

you don’t answer.

he watches you in silence. listens to the hush of the room and the tiny creak of the mattress as he adjusts his arm under your waist. your leg is still hooked over his hip, and your fingers rest gently on his chest—right over the spot where his heart is beating just a little too fast.

maybe you’re asleep. maybe you’re not.

but he takes the chance anyway.

he turns his head, nose brushing the side of yours. and with a kiss so soft it almost doesn’t land, he presses his mouth to your hairline.

“i’m so in love with you,” he breathes. not even a whisper—more like a confession carried on his last exhale. “i love you.”

you don’t move. don’t speak. don’t flinch or blink.

but your fingers twitch. just slightly.

and then they curl in, sinking into the fabric of his shirt. slow and gentle, like your body coudn’t help but respond before your mind caught up. like your heart heard him first.

jungkook’s eyes flutter close.

he doesn’t say anything else. doesn’t push or ask or even hope. he just sinks a little deeper into the sheets, into you, pulling you closer like maybe, if he holds you tight enough, the moment won’t break.

and you—still quiet, still pretending—feel everything.

the weight of his arm around you.

the warmth of his skin against yours. the truth of what he said lingering in the space between your bodies.

you don’t say it back.

not yet.

but you feel it, too. so, in your head you say it back. drifting to sleep, tangled with the love of your life—

i love you too.

#bts smut #jk fanfic #jk smut #jungkook x yn #jungkook scenario #jungkook boyfriend au #bts boyfriend au #bts fluff #bts imagine #jungkook imagine #jungkook scenarios #jungkook uni au #jungkook nerd au #jungkook smut

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venusjeon · 2 years ago

Text

angel in the marble

after you fail to pickpocket him, the famous yet arrogant artist Jeon Jungkook takes you off the streets to make you his servant, and the more you know him, the more you realise he's not as detestable as everyone claims he is.

♔ PAIRING: michelangelo!jungkook x servant!reader

♔ GENRE: high renaissance au, angst, smut, humour

♔ WORD COUNT: 8k

♔ WARNINGS: homelessness, stealing, mild swearing/violence/drinking, 90% of this is bickering lmao, mentions of minor characters' death, jealousy and kinda possessiveness?, referenced unconsensual groping (not by jk), a bit of blasphemy, making out, groping, fingering, rough angry sexxx, choking, slapping

♔ AUTHOR'S NOTE: fun fact this is mostly historically accurate! jk's characterisation, the grocery list doodles, the sack of rome, the beef with his brother, the encounter with his rival (raphael)... are all taken from michelangelo's actual life, even some stuff is quoted from his letters lol. man was fanfic material.

1529, Rome

“How much for that one?”

“No, that one’s sold already.”

It was a lively morning. After days of heavy rainfall, those of high social class were eager to get out and meet under the gentle sun of spring, whose glare reflected on the precious stones of their jewellery; while those of low, out of necessity, couldn’t wait to reopen their businesses or set up their stalls and get back to work. You liked to eye them all as you strolled the streets of Rome.

“To whom?”

“Your friend Taehyung.”

“Agh… How much is that prick paying you?”

The point of the matter was that it was bustling, some colliding if they looked away from where they were going for more than a breath. It worked in your favour for it was then easier to make yourself scarce right after stealing bags of coins, such as those of the three men seemingly bargaining by a workshop’s entrance out of which a large block of marble was being dragged. Perfect.

“Three ducats.”

“Three?! He’s robbing you of two ducats. I’ll pay you the five it’s worth.”

You kept your head low as you approached the pair that seemed wealthier and with those stealthy hands of yours unfastened the bags tied to their belts. After all, pickpocketing was a skill you’d had under your own for some years now, so this was bound to go smoothly.

Because you didn’t realise there was a guardian with them, perhaps you’d grown arrogant.

“I’m sorry, maestro. It’s reserved.”

“But it’ll become a waste in his possession!”

As you slipped away into the crowd, mouth watering at the fresh-baked bread you were going to devour as soon as bought, this brown dog leaped up at you out of nowhere, ignoring your desperate efforts to shake him off. If anything, they caused him to bark.

No, no, no…

The three men turned to the scene playing out not so far, and thinking his dog was bothering you one of them shouted, “Bam, come here, boy!” but as he obediently ran to his owner, you were too slow to hide the bags in your hands. It only took the pair a second to make them out, check whether theirs still hung on their belts, find them not, work out you’d stolen them, look back up, and find you not either.

Of course, you’d made your escape by then, dived into the sea of people and swum through them as quickly as possible, only stopping when you reached an empty vaulted alley to catch your breath.

That was ridiculously close. If you weren’t more careful next–

Your train of thought was interrupted by someone grabbing you by the arm from behind and pushing you against the nearest wall. A grunt accompanied the thud, and a gasp followed at the sight of the two men from before—dog included. Pinned in place, it’d be a bad idea to fight back or attempt to run away again. Fuck’s sake.

“Do you know what happens to thieves?” the one cornering you asked so close that when the cold breeze rustled his hair, some strands grazed your face. You looked away to avoid the tickling rather than out of fear, or so you wanted to believe. “They have a hand cut off. Seems fair, doesn’t it, Jimin?”

By contrast, that Jimin didn’t look intimidating, otherwise still catching his breath from the chase, but he did snatch the coin bags from your hands. “It doesn’t have to be so, maestro. We got our money back. She’s… just a girl.”

“And that exempts her of crime?”

“Please, don’t report me,” you begged, humiliating as though it was.

“Why shouldn’t we?” the maestro scoffed. Maestro… You were being threatened by a damned craftsman, the other one probably his assistant.

“Because I don’t want to lose a hand?”

“Oh, but we wanted to lose money, did we?” You rolled your eyes, and he released his grip only to step away. “Take us to your father, brat. He’ll answer for you.”

It took you a moment to respond, “I don’t have a father, or anyone... Only I can answer for my actions.”

“You’re a beggar?” Jimin asked, taking pity as he studied your appearance for the first time. Dishevelled hair, tattered dress, unpleasant smell… Yes, they should’ve guessed.

“She doesn’t beg, though, does she? She steals.”

“Only from cunts.”

His head snapped to meet your glare, and Jimin laughed, “You seem to not know whom you speak to.” He could be Jesus for all you cared. Uninterested, you petted the dog, Bam, seeing as he’d leapt up at you again. “This is Jeon Jungkook.”

You froze. The Jeon Jungkook? The famous artist who painted and sculpted for the Pope? Whom faraway kings and even emperors commissioned? The one whose genius was said to be changing the world?

At the lack of attention, Bam returned to his master, and that snapped you out of your shock to ask, “Then why do you whine?” The two men frowned, having clearly expected an apology paired with the usual bootlicking. “As if you need that bag more than I!”

“What nerve,” he scoffed again, making you wince by grabbing your arm tighter than before and starting to drag you into the next street. “You’re going straight to the authorities!”

“Wait,” Jimin intervened, thank God. “Weren’t you in need of a servant, maestro?”

“So?”

Jimin pointed at you with his gaze as though it was obvious. “You’re in need of a servant, she’s in need of a roof.”

“I would rather have a hand cut off.”

“I would rather have her hand cut off too.”

Jungkook tried to resume dragging you, but Jimin blocked his way with a soft smile. “What’s your name?”

“Y/N…”

“Do you know how to take care of a household?” Slowly, you nodded, melancholy engulfing you at the memory of cooking or sweeping the floor with your mother once upon a time. Somehow, she always found a way to make chores fun... “Then you qualify for the job. You’ll have three meals a day and a bed to sleep on. And you, maestro, a servant who’ll work her hardest, lest you fire her and she ends up in the streets again.”

Both you and Jungkook reluctantly glanced at each other. Truth be told, you didn’t prefer losing a hand to living with him, you just didn’t like him. Despite being a celebrity, he was a stranger. It just wouldn’t work.

But then, why were you holding your breath, hoping he’d accept?

“We shouldn’t have left Namjoon’s workshop. The marble is about to be delivered,” he said walking away. The air left your lungs in disappointment. It seemed you were to remain a stray cat. Jimin pressed his plump lips apologetically as he gave you enough coins to buy that bread, and you nodded, grateful all the same for his trying. You watched him rush to Jungkook’s side but when this one saw him, he turned around. “Hurry up, brat. If Taehyung gets that block of marble, I’ll not take you in.”

Since the first day, you could attest to Jeon Jungkook’s nature being as rough and uncouth as the rumours claimed, and after living alone with him for two months still believed gossip such as that he’d got the scar on his left cheek in a tavern fight—in which, if you’d chanced to be present, you would’ve rooted for the other individual.

It appeared it wasn’t just others Jungkook was harsh to. However rich his talent had turned him, he behaved like a poor man, consuming food and drink sparingly and out of necessity instead of pleasure, spending only the money required to live decently, sleeping little in order to work on commissions from dawn to midnight…

Why he chose to take little care of himself was a mystery to someone who previously had not been allowed a choice, even if putting work before all was in order to thwart Kim Taehyung’s plans of ruining his career, as he claimed. You doubted his rival was obsessed with him so, but had learned to agree with whatever Jungkook grumbled to avoid disputes. Most times.

Deep down, you had a feeling your boldness amused him. Who else dared get on his nerves?

“I think all you artists fluttering around the Pope are no more than slaves to money,” you let drop once while making his bed. Bam was sleeping peacefully under the window, while Jungkook leaning against the door’s frame behind you, offended to the core. He could help, you thought, or at least loosen my corset a little…

“I, a slave? I’ll be damned… There is an angel inside every block of marble, and I’ll have you know I carve to set it free.”

“Is it the angel that charges the Pope, then, master?” You could feel him barely restraining the urge to throw you out the window, smiled as you finished smoothing out the blankets.

“You missed a wrinkle there.”

Hands on your hips and frown on your brows, you examined the neatly arranged coverings of his bed. “Where?”

“On your face,” he muttered before making his leave.

Not his finest jibe, but the metaphor did stay with you. An angel inside the marble… It perhaps applied to Jungkook himself, though you’d never tell him.

One instance it came to mind was recently, when his assistants and apprentices were invited over for dinner.

Usually, he’d tell you which meals he liked and you’d ask at the marketplace which ingredients to buy, but now that about ten meals were to be cooked a list was needed. So there he sat on his desk in his study, inking said list as you waited in front of him, fiddling with the undershirt that peeked out of your dress’ sleeves. Given that your eyes were fixed on it, you only learned Jungkook was done when the sound of his quill scratching the paper ceased.

“Be back no later than dusk,” he ordered, “I bet there are still Germans and Spaniards lurking about.”

A year had passed since the Sack of Rome, but the mention of it sent a shiver of fear down your spine. Whatever the political reasons for it, you hated everyone involved, for Hell itself would’ve been a more beautiful sight to behold those nine months when the Tiber’s waters remained painted red…

You were lucky to make it through. Your family wasn’t.

“Yes, master.”

“Here,” he said handing you the paper, then picked another letter from a pile of correspondence he’d been going through before your arrival. Jungkook was about to snap its wax seal when he looked up to realise you hadn’t moved an inch. “Why are you here? Away with you!” He saw the reason in the way you avoided eye contact. “You can’t read, can you?” Met with a silence charged with embarrassment, he leaned back in his chair and sighed, “Give me the list.”

Getting hold of the quill again, Jungkook began… doodling?

You tilted your head but couldn’t see well what he was drawing until he finished and returned the list to you. Then, your lips parted. Each item on the list was illustrated next to its name: ten loaves of bread, a jug of wine, tortellini, four anchovies, two fennel soups…

“I’ll teach you to read when I have time. This will do for now.”

“You’d do that?” For me?

Jungkook ignored you, before he went back to reading his letters complimenting the good gesture with an irritated, “Hurry up.”

That night his co-workers arrived one by one, Jimin the first. The sight of him when you opened the door brightened up your mood.

Unlike a certain someone he was always sweet to you, genuinely interested to know how you fared even if you were just a servant. He claimed that mattered not to him, that you were both commoners and thus equals.

“Look at this place, it’s spotless! And you know I’m furtive, so I won’t get in your way,” you told Jimin as you escorted him through a hallway, bright from the torches hung on the walls that you’d lit up earlier.

He laughed, “I cannot make you my servant, Y/N, you’re maestro’s.”

“But he’s going to drive me mad… To tell you one of many examples, he often falls asleep in his clothes, and who but I is to take his boots off so they don’t get the sheets dirty? If the chalk on his fingers or the dust from the chiseling on his hair won’t already. Bam is far cleaner…”

Jungkook had a workshop he barely set foot in, preferred his team made use of it instead to not be bothered by their idiocy. His words. So it was in a chamber on the ground floor of this house he gave way to artistic insanity. In your book, that meant constant cleaning.

Jimin looked at you fondly. “Sounds nightmarish.”

“It truly is!”

As soon as the two of you entered the dining hall, Bam ran from Jungkook’s side by the fireplace to Jimin, who was as excited to see him.

“Good night, maes–”

“Do you think I’m deaf, ungrateful brat?” Jungkook interrupted him to bark at you. “Rome is full of people begging to get a piece of me, so if you don’t like it here, I’ll just get someone else!”

“You say that and yet keep me like a prisoner!”

“As if you don’t have it better here than anywhere you’ve burdened with your presence before!”

“There, there…” Jimin interjected to de-escalate, kneeling to better stroke Bam. “Maestro, I’ve seen your latest sketch of the Virgin and Child. She resembles Y/N.”

Both you and Jungkook failed to fight off the embarrassment, gazes unable to find a place to settle. Sitting down on the large table, he explained, “It was just one time… I had used Yoongi as a model, but the Madonna looked too masculine... and rather than going through the trouble of finding some girl and hiring her, I had Y/N pose for me… So what! Why bring it up out of nowhere…”

“Because maybe you just need a bit of distance from time to time. With permission, I too would have Y/N pose for m–”

“Absolutely not.”

“Now, why the hell not?” you groaned stamping your foot, startling poor Bam. Hope had been born inside you in a second and cruelly crushed in the next.

“Because I say so. And watch your tone with me.” As usual, the mutual glaring would trick anyone into thinking the next step would be murder. Jimin, who knelt there awkwardly, certainly thought so, at least until the bell rang. “Now go answer the door!”

What happened later, though, rendered the fury Jungkook had evoked in your heart nonexistent and instead seized the thing in a clasp of distress.

In the morning, he walked in when you were sweeping the kitchen. At once you forced the sobs to stop and turned around so he wouldn’t see you wipe your tears.

“It’s past nine, where’s breakfast?” he asked in shock that you hadn’t even started making it, the table there empty.

You swore under your breath before leaving the broomstick leaning against the nearest wall, flushed face kept out of Jungkook’s sight, then in a haste fetched a plate, a knife, and a leftover bread loaf. “Apologies, master, I forgot. I’ll be upstairs in a minute.”

Sniffling betrayed you, at which Jungkook frowned. “Are you crying?”

Great, the question just about especially designed to make one well up. Not trusting your voice anymore, you shook your head. Jungkook approached, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look away from the task at hand, now cutting a few slices of the bread.

“Have you broken something?” You shook your head again, the suppressed sobs making your chin tremble. Jungkook took a deep breath before asking with a surprisingly soothing tone, “Then what’s wrong?”

“You won’t believe me.”

“Try me.”

Within an hour, he’d summoned a meeting consisting of all who’d attended dinner the previous night.

A seemingly calm Jungkook was sat at the head of the table, elbows sunk on it and fingers interlocked. You stood behind him, head still low out of shame. A tense silence had fallen in the chamber some time ago, and sick of it, Jimin shattered it.

“Have you anything to tell us, maestro?”

“I was waiting for Biagio to do so.”

The man was one of Jungkook’s favourite assistants who had worked with him for years, even longer than Jimin. And if it was possible for your position to be trickier, he belonged to some noble family.

“Me? But I’ve nothing to say, maestro.”

Jungkook leaned back in his chair. “My servant will, then. Y/N?”

Bastard. If you are going to fire me, why make me go through this?

“Last night, w-when I left this hall to go refill the wine jug… Messer Biagio followed me into the kitchen, and… h-he trapped me from behind, and started t-to touch me…” Your vision soon blurred, hence why you couldn’t see clearly how concerned Jimin was for you, or how Biagio jumped up in outrage. “I managed to push him away, and ran upst–”

“How dare you slander me, wench? Maestro, you do not believe this!”

“Do I not?”

“She’s lying! I caught her stealing sketches from your study, likely to sell them, so she’s trying to get rid of me!”

You almost scoffed. Only an idiot would choose the one occasion guests had come over and her absence would be noticed to carry out a theft.

Jungkook tilted his head. “I thought you had nothing to say. Why would you keep such a thing just now?”

Biagio gulped. “I deemed it best to mention it later, in private... You won’t believe a pickpocket before an old friend, will you?”

Silence returned, your breath still as you saw all the assistants and apprentices visibly take pity on him. The only one who didn’t was Jimin, but even on his face there was a hint of hesitation. Jungkook’s, you couldn’t see from behind, but after an eternity he stood up and walked over only to put a hand on the shoulder of Biagio, who smiled in relief.

A quiet sob broke through your lips, heart sinking. You’d needed Jungkook to believe you in this. Not because of the consequences his protection as your master could save you from, but because, like it or not… he was the closest thing to family you had.

It turned out he did believe you, judging by the punch landed on Biagio’s jaw out of nowhere. And the next one on his cheekbone, and on his nose. Before everyone around the table had barely stood up to stop Jungkook, he’d already thrown Biagio down and straddled him, pulling his doublet’s collar in a close, tight grip as he continued beating him up. Blood was drawn, but for once, you didn’t mind having to scrub it later.

Jungkook’s influence trumped a whole noble house’s, you learned in the course of the months Biagio tried his mightiest and failed most miserably to have him arrested. Perhaps because of the Pope sitting on his shoulder.

That he’d taken your side was still hard to believe, all he’d grumbled with a shrug when you thanked him while tending to his wounds from the fight being, “I’d been waiting for the chance. I always thought Biagio was a weasel.”

With the matter resolved, life returned to normal—well, whatever that meant in Jeon Jungkook’s household. Because calling for you at the top of his lungs like a madman was not normal. The first time he’d done it you’d raced downstairs, afraid something horrible had happened, only for him to have you close a window as it was getting chilly. Devil rot him. You rushed no longer after that, much to his complaints.

Today, he didn’t notice right away when you appeared under the cased opening, and good thing he didn’t, for he was polishing a bust with sandpaper… shirtless.

Product of hours carving stone into his desired shape or occasionally beating someone up, he could brag of having muscles, which the current task had covered in a layer of sweat and dust. The way they flexed with each movement had you compelled, wanting to reach out, feel if his skin was as hot as the blood pumping through your veins faster and faster. Then your gaze moved to the bust and whatever spell you were under broke.

Hardly an angel was that widowed noblewoman, whom you wished had stayed trapped inside a block of marble. Her name was Madonna Maddalena, and she’d come some weeks past to make a commission covered in pearls, gold, and boldness.

“My friends refused to accompany me today. You’re said to be… disagreeable, which I’m sure is untrue. However, all of them do want to know if you’re as fine-looking as is also rumoured, maestro” she told Jungkook within minutes of meeting him, still by the entrance!

Now you can tell them he’s not, you bit your tongue before it remarked, as this wasn’t Jimin but a patron not to be scared away by your bickering. It wouldn’t be true anyway. All your master lacked in manners, he made up for with looks… Which you’d never say out loud. You’d never say either that he looked even better when irked.

“I’ve heard many rumours about myself, most of them nonsense. My appearance was involved in none.”

She smiled seductively. “I suppose I’ll have to be the one to spread them.”

“The weather is pleasant today,” Jungkook changed the subject, flustered beneath the formal demeanour. “Shall we have wine in the garden?” You left to prepare it not before catching Maddalena raise her brow at you in disapproval. She must’ve been able to tell you thought she was a pompous cunt.

The beautiful flowers you cared for tried their best outside, but the air didn’t get any better.

Sat around a small table, Maddalena explained she wanted a bust of herself by his talented hand to decorate the main hall of her palazzo. You served them wine, not really listening until Jungkook started playing hard to get. The hundred times you’d told him it wasn’t a good tactic to make his labour out to be too prestigious had apparently fallen on deaf ears.

“Any other artist could carry this out, Madonna. I am working for the Pope these days…” he subtly scolded her, a mere mortal, for wasting his precious time. And he wondered why he had a reputation for being arrogant.

Maddalena put his thoughts into plain words, “So why should you stoop to taking commissions from an insignificant widow?”

“Correct,” you said under your breath, luckily heard by none from the background, where you stood holding a wine jug until the madonna raised her cup and you approached to refill it.

“It is then fortunate I’m to marry a nephew of the Pope’s.”

Swayed by her future influence, Jungkook smiled back. “So it is.”

“But not for another week. ‘Till then, I belong to no man.” The suggestion in her tone almost drove you to spill wine all over her. No, better yet: order Bam to sic on her. He’d do it.

Just, who did this woman think she was? And why did Jungkook not kick her out right afterwards? It made you wonder whether he’d enjoyed the flirtation. Whether he would’ve been the one to take things further had his inconvenient servant not been present. It was common for men to have affairs and lovers, but it didn’t sit well with you that Jungkook might. Not that you ever imagined him doing any of that, for goodness’ sake–

“What took you so long?”

Jungkook’s voice brought you back to the present, under the cased opening.

“I was lazing about, as always,” you quoted his favourite false reprimand, making him roll his eyes, your own dropping to the floor when he walked closer.

“In that case, prepare a bath for me.”

“Yes, master.”

You sighed at all the work ahead. That being a servant was worlds better than living in the streets didn’t mean you looked forward to collecting gallons of water from a well, carrying them back, heating them, transferring them to a tub, then washing Jungkook—because you did wash him.

Biagio had hurt his left shoulder bad and ever since, he’d needed assistance in certain activities. Curious how he could otherwise chisel a goddamned bust without problem.

Jungkook’s full nudity only made you blush if you stopped scrubbing, so knelt with tucked up sleeves before the wooden tub he was reclined on, scrubbing away the dirt on his skin with lavender-scented soap you were. Maybe all the stupid feelings you’d been suffering lately stemmed from there…

Head resting on the edge, he was exhausted from the long day of work, taking your rubbing as a relaxing massage. You, however, couldn’t ignore the stinging guilt, what with the scar on his shoulder right in front of your face. He probably felt your breathing on it.

“I’m sorry you got hurt…”

Jungkook fought heavy lids only to see you avoid him. Allowing yourself to be vulnerable in front of him was embarrassing, as when he’d caught you crying, but he didn’t take advantage of the fact to humiliate you. Jungkook may be an ogre, but he wasn’t cruel.

“I’ve received worse for less,” he assured you in a calm, low voice. It sounded soothing to your ears.

“That, I don’t doubt,” you scoffed, glancing at his other scar on the cheek. “Did you also get that one in defence of some lady?”

“You’re nowhere close to a lady.” It could be done, you mused. Drowning him. “This was courtesy of my brother.”

“You have a brother?” It dawned on you how little you knew of him. Surely, most had heard it all about the divine Jeon Jungkook, but you’d never cared enough to learn past the shell of gossip, even after months of living with him. In fairness, he’d never asked about you either. You preferred it that way.

“Brothers,” he corrected you. “The one who did this to me was a wayward fool. Had to teach him a lesson.”

“Looks like he taught one to you.”

“I left with a scratch, he with a limp.” The conception of two brothers hurting each other so harshly widened your eyes for a second, and Jungkook noticed, for he added, “He was whoring around, wasting the money I worked hard to send, bullying our other brothers as well.”

Much made sense about Jungkook all of a sudden. Not his personality, that was incomprehensible. But why he killed himself to earn money and yet barely spent it… He had a family to provide for. Once again, you were reminded of his metaphor. Could an angel be in there?

Carrying on washing Jungkook, you dragged the sponge over to his neck. Then his collarbones, his chest, his abs just peaking above the water... They did look like a sculpture’s, especially wet and soaped, reminiscent of polished marble when the light of the torches reflected on them. Swallowing hard, the back of your fingers gingerly graced Jungkook’s muscles, both soft and firm. Slippery. Whatever possessed you to keep feeling them, you lacked the will to expel from your body, and so without realising your grip on the sponge loosened until it fell to float away, fingertips now free to roam over his abs.

You were slowly trailing downwards, past the water’s surface, when your wrist was seized and held in the air in a warning manner, the startle almost making you scream.

Sat upright, Jungkook was glaring at you so fiercely you feared for your life. But he didn’t say anything and instead just breathed hard, jaw clenched… almost as if he was holding back. Your rising heartbeat was deafening in the silence waiting for something to happen, anything, but what did wasn’t what a side of you anticipated with excitement.

Jungkook just let go of your wrist and returned to his previous position, and you got hold of the sponge and finished washing him, albeit holding your breath the entire time.

Days later, you came dangerously close to being fired.

The Pope had summoned Jungkook—something about a portrait commission—and you were to carry his bag filled with sketches for him due to his shoulder injury. As you navigated the ever-busy streets of Rome with him, the cold autumn breeze made you regret not putting on an overgown. The cioppa you’d bought with your own salary and not stolen. It brought a smile to your lips that faded at the realisation your mother would’ve reminded you to put it on before going out.

The sorrow pestering you turned to confusion when Jungkook stopped walking and tsked, telling you loud enough to be heard by all, “Look at him, the chief of police, with such an assemblage.”

A well-dressed man and what appeared to be his entourage walked in your direction, halting near enough. You didn’t have to ask to know this was his rival, the renowned painter Kim Taehyung.

“Whereas you, like an executioner, walk alone,” he mocked Jungkook, then noticed you standing behind him like a timid child. “Not completely, my mistake. Maestro, where in your barren soil did you plant such a flower?” He walked over to you, intentionally bumping Jungkook’s wounded shoulder as he passed, causing him to grunt lowly. From up close one was bound to marvel at how handsome Taehyung was, but you didn’t need proximity to tell he was a prick. Miles away, you would’ve known. “Why don’t you come work for me, flower? I’ll make you my muse.”

Jungkook scoffed again, “What, for your horseshit paintings? She’d be a fool to.”

Taehyung turned around to face him, feigning confusion with a smile. “But, maestro, how could they be so if you were once heard saying that all I have in art, I got from you?”

"You naturally have to resort to plagiarising my master’s genius if all you do is horseshit,” you countered, earning surprised looks from every man present, some laughs too, you were proud to say. Jungkook was certainly smirking. Taehyung opened his mouth, but you walked past him uninterested before a response came out of it.

“Good girl,” Jungkook laughed while leaving the crime scene, and for some reason your cheeks burned hot.

The incident happened once inside the Vatican.

Its grandiose corridors alone made you feel small, too unimportant to walk them, whereas Jungkook did so with determination, knowing he belonged at the top of the world. What with your tempestuous relationship, it was easy to forget he was famous throughout Europe. His feet would still never be kissed by you. Someone had to humble the man, right?

At some point the two of you arrived at a door flanked by guards, and averse, you grabbed the sleeve of Jungkook’s doublet.

“Do I have to go in?”

“Too good for the Pope, are you?” He shook you off. “Come on.”

“Damn you…” you muttered.

“What did you just say to me?”

“After you, master.”

Telling himself he’d be late if he scolded you, Jungkook turned and nodded at the guards, who opened the door of a chamber whose walls were frescoed with angels and saints, likely by Taehyung, giving off the impression one was in Heaven. When you saw him sat on a golden chair, old and grey, enjoying the tune of a lute player, you felt as though you’d just entered Hell.

The audience lasted for ever. While you stood by the door, Jungkook showed the Pope some sketches of the portrait for him to choose his favourite and then they talked and talked of politics. All you could do was fix your gaze somewhere on the floor and sigh.

“Yes, Your Holiness, this is the servant I mentioned…” A frown proceeded your looking up to see Jungkook somewhat embarrassed, scratching his nose as if to hide his face. He talked of you to others? Doubtless to complain…

With a sweet voice as if he was talking to a little girl, the Pope asked you, “What is your name?”

“None of your business, Your Holiness.”

The musician’s tune ceased abruptly, allowing Jungkook’s faint gasp to be heard. Then fell a short silence spent by the Pope blinking, taken aback. “I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me.”

Jungkook was quick to fake a laugh, though sweat formed at his temples. “A jest! She meant no offence, Your Holiness, but to make you laugh.”

You held the Pope’s glare in defiance, indifferent to the fact he was the most powerful man in the whole of Christendom.

By some miracle, he let it go, and you left that chamber minutes later with your head as yet attached to your body. Your arm wouldn’t be for much longer, though, given Jungkook was forcibly dragging you all the way out to the streets, pushing you into the first alley he saw.

“Are you out of your mind?!” he shouted, towering over you menacingly. Unlike the day you’d met, you weren’t scared, rather furious as him as you stood your ground. “That was the Pope, you fool!”

“So?”

Jungkook was in utter disbelief. “He could’ve ordered your execution– mine too!”

“Well, nothing happened!”

“Nothing?! I’m sure to fall out of favour!” He paced around, anxiety quickening his breath. “Years of pouring my soul into my craft, of grovelling before the right people, all thrown away! Good God, your attitude may cost me everything…”

“And what about me?! Everything lost to me does not matter?!”

Jungkook stopped to frown. “What the hell are you talking about?”

It was now you who walked up to him. “I didn’t have a job, or a reputation, or admirers. I had only a family, and I never wished for anything else! That monster you work for took them from me. When the foreigners’ armies came and everyone rushed to Castel Sant’Angelo, he gave the order to close the gates as soon as he was safe behind them! You must have been there with him, weren’t you? Well, we weren’t. We were left outside to be slaughtered. And I wish I had been, like my parents, so I didn’t have to suffer the likes of you any longer!”

Tears were streaming down your face by the end, Jungkook just staring back at you. It didn’t surprise him that your parents were dead or that they’d been killed during the Sack, but that it was so deep a wound left festering in your heart that you didn’t mind being put out of misery. He surmised your disrespectful behaviour towards him was also fruit of your pain, especially if you deemed him an ally of the one who caused it.

“The few things I own… They’re wasted on me. Throw them away or give them to your next servant,” you sobbed, taking for granted you were fired. Anyone with half a brain would indeed have you dismissed, and part of you knew it was bound to happen, that you would go back to breaking in fucking churches to spend the night.

So you turned around into the main street, set on wandering until your legs became too sore not to collapse. With any luck, a carriage would run over you. But warmth then surrounded your hand, and you looked down to see Jungkook’s holding it tight enough to force you to halt. Though still mad, a hint of compassion sparkled in his eyes.

“Let’s… Let us just go home.”

Home. His house had felt so for a while now, truth be told. Himself too.

After that, you non-verbally agreed on a ceasefire—avoiding quarrels, that is, which was quite the task for both.

Such as now that Jungkook had you inking down a letter in his name. First of all, did you look like a scribe? If you’d known in advance the lazy arse would teach you to read and write for this, you’d have chosen to remain illiterate. And second, this was your short break before making dinner, intended to be spent playing with Bam. The poor thing was also in the study, at least being stroked by his owner, who was sat beside you on the desk.

“… I send you my regards, may God keep you from all harm. Jeon Jungkook in Rome,” he finally finished dictating, and you recording. “Give it to me, I’ll seal it.”

He was melting the wax with which to do so when the bell rang, to his surprise. Sighing, you stood up and went to open the door to whom turned out to be Jimin. The sight of him brightened you up, and yours stretched his lips into a smile.

“Evening, Y/N.”

“Good evening! I didn’t know the master was expecting you.”

“He isn’t…” You welcomed him in, brows joining at how he continuously chewed on his aforementioned lip and breathed deep through his nose as he followed you. Had something happened…? A decision to eavesdrop was made en route to the study.

Though Jimin requested for you to stay once there, and nothing could have prepared you for the reason why.

“This actually concerns Y/N…” You and Jungkook exchanged confused looks, him leaning against the desk and crossing arms as though he didn’t like the sound of that. Jimin fixed his already perfect clothes before addressing him, “I’ve come to ask for her hand in marriage.” Your jaw dropped. “I know it’s sudden at the lack of previous courtship, but I thought I should ask for your permission before engaging in it, maestro. She’s a lovely girl… and I think she’d be happy as my wife. Worry not, I won’t ask for a dowry or for her to stop working… Although on second thought, fewer hours of service would be ideal.”

This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be happening.

Jungkook must be thinking the same, for he squinted to ask, “Are you drunk?”

“N-No, of course not.”

“Are you sure? You want to marry a servant with little to her name.” He had a point, so you weren’t offended. If politics weren’t the reason for a union, did this mean… Jimin had feelings for you?

“Maestro, you say it as if I were a lord,” he chuckled. “I don’t care about Y/N’s possessions, I’ll provide for her anyway. I’ve… always been fond of her. And I dare say she shares the sentiment.”

Betrayal hid safely behind a look that asked if there was any truth to that. Obviously not! There was no romance in your own fondness for Jimin. If anything, you had thought he saw you as a younger sister to look after, therefore as a protective older brother you saw him. But so shocked were you still that no words managed to come out, and Jungkook’s gaze shifted back to Jimin.

“I’ll think about it. You may go.”

A curt tone was the norm for Jungkook, it was not being granted his blessing that disappointed Jimin. He knew for a fact he was an honourable man, so why wouldn't he entrust you to him?

“Quite well… I’ll show myself out.” he uttered, before making his leave failing to hide his low spirit by giving you one last shy smile you hadn’t the heart to return.

An awkward silence filled the air that even Bam daren’t break. Only once the front door was heard shutting did you walk closer to Jungkook.

“You won’t agree to this, will you?”

“Why shouldn’t I? I have to get rid of you at some point.”

“Rid of me? Like I’m a burden?” you asked, voice rising. How a servant could be so was unknown to you until, like wooden ship toys did when you’d submerge them in a bucket of water as a child, certain guesses surfaced in your thoughts. Trying to pickpocket him, the constant clashing, Biagio, that bath, the Pope… Yes, you may perhaps be described as a burden. But you didn’t want to leave. With a calmer tone, you pleaded, “I’ll behave from now on. I won’t cause any more trouble, I swear.”

Jungkook didn’t deign to look your way as he left, followed by Bam. “You have to marry at some point, Y/N. Otherwise people will gossip.”

Since when did he care about what people said of him? And why should you?

Winter having dropped its anchor, nightfall arrived early. Not early enough, you brooded as you cooked dinner, longing for the day to end once and for all. With any hope, all of this was a nightmare and upon waking up in the morning life would go back to normal. You didn’t even know why you wanted to stay with Jungkook, as the occasions in which you’d begged Jimin to employ you to leave this house were countless. The only certain thing was that you were upset.

Later, after washing all plates and cups, you began to put off all torches lighting the house, finding out in the hall that Jungkook hadn’t moved from the seat he’d dined in. You considered carrying on with your job and leaving him in the dark, but he wouldn’t find it as funny. Instead, you stood before him.

“Will that be all, master?”

The coldness in your expression made him sigh, “Y/N–”

“I shall retire, then.” You turned to leave but were made to stop in your tracks.

“It’s an advantageous proposal for you,” he lectured to whom he must believe an idiot. “Jimin works for me, he’s wealthy. A better match than you could ever aspire to. And he asks for no dowry because he doesn’t want money, he wants you…” His words were tainted with resentment. “He’ll take good care of you.”

Skirt of your dress swirling along, you faked a smile. “If you think so, master, then it must be so.”

He shook his head as he leaned back in defeat. “Suit yourself, but I won’t be the one to reject Jimin. You crush his heart.”

A laugh escaped you. “If you genuinely cared about him, you wouldn’t let him marry a woman in love with–” Oh no. It only hit you as you were saying it.

Jungkook had appeared annoyed, but now he was mad. “Who?” He stood up abruptly—chair’s feet scratching against the floor making you wince—and walked so close you were backed against the wall, face forced to turn to a side. In a low, deep voice, he repeated, less as a question and more as an order this time, “Who.”

There was no way in the nine circles of Hell you’d say it, when you didn’t want to believe it in the first place. For fuck’s sake, why? Jungkook only ever made you want to get away from him. That was the case right now, but then… why were your feet frozen?

Some unreasonable part of you seemed to have prevailed upon the others, casting away all resistance from your body and allowing yourself to indulge in Jungkook’s proximity. You met his eyes without fear, held his dark gaze. It didn’t take him long to work it out, yet he kept close, so close your unsteady breaths mingled, the effect akin to intoxication. He was visibly trying to hold back, telling himself it’d be a bad idea, but you prayed he wouldn’t care.

By God or the Devil, your prayers were heard.

Jungkook finally smashed his lips into yours, devouring them with a hunger you shared and felt growing as he gripped your waist to press you against him. A minute ago, you wouldn’t have imagined his tongue belonged inside your mouth, swirling around your own, and now you wanted it all over your body. As if reading your mind, Jungkook broke the ardent kiss to move down to your neck, which he licked painfully slowly before sucking hard, making you hiss with pleasure. He knew that would leave a mark, the bastard. You wondered if it was meant for Jimin, so he’d see you were Jungkook’s, and in such case you didn’t mind, let your eyelids close to enjoy it.

Steered by the lust possessing you, one hand grabbed his soft hair in a fistful, keeping his head in place where he was sweetly abusing your neck, while the other travelled southwards until it reached his crotch and held it over the trousers, feeling his cock stiffen. Jungkook groaned—a vibration to your skin—in retaliation lifting your skirt. You’d thought he'd take his time, tease you, but after ensuring you were wet enough by gliding his middle finger along your core, he slid it inside and began making beckoning motions.

“Master…” you moaned, legs shaking. Jungkook forsook your neck to pull back, watch how you struggled to keep it together as he added another finger, curling and uncurling them both, hitting all the right places, and unwilling to give him that satisfaction without consequences you groped his erection with the same vigour. Although he was in good control of his expression, his breath quivered against your lips, so he kissed them again, biting hard into your lower one.

He exhaled, “You’re driving me to sin…”

Indeed, the same fingers that held the brushes when he painted religious artwork were buried deep inside your cunt, bringing you the most sinful ecstasy. It made you chuckle. Jungkook took that as the mockery it was and, crossed, pulled his fingers out of you to drag you by the arm to the edge of the table, where he had you sit. Without delay he lifted your skirt again, only this time he also pulled down his trousers to reveal his cock, thick and throbbing, which he pumped as he watched you spread your legs eagerly, ready to take all of him.

With his free hand Jungkook cupped your cheek, thumb caressing your lower lip, coated with saliva and reddened still from when he’d bit it. He could sense your desire, that you craved him inside, had for a while. Desperately. And however much tempted he was to make you beg for it, his own arousal led his cock to your entrance and eased it inside already, another groan hitting the back of his bared teeth. You didn’t have time to gasp, his thrusts so quick they earned only moans, so wonderful did it feel.

Jungkook’s hand on your cheek then wrapped around your neck. “Do you know how often I’ve fantasised strangling you?”

You chuckled again as you slapped him across the face. Jungkook halted his movements in shock, glared at you. “And I slapping you?”

It took him a moment, but he scoffed and pushed you back so that you were lying down, climbing next atop you, confident that the wooden table was sturdy enough to hold both. So legs hooked around his torso and arms around his neck, you welcomed his thrusts, rough enough to make your eyes water. But it felt heavenly, how he ravished you... The mutual irritation and tension building up for over half a year translated into indescribable pleasure.

He kissed you again, flicking his tongue against yours as he pounded into you without mercy. Overwhelmed by the sensation, all you could do to express you were nearing your limit was sink your nails into Jungkook’s biceps at each side of you, moan inside his mouth. He took the hint and fucked you as fast as his body would allow, within mere seconds your walls clenching tight around him. The sight of you collapsing under him, overcome with bliss, made him reach his own highest shortly, spurting his warm seed inside you.

As his movements gradually ceased, so did your panting. Before a complete silence fell, you asked, “Am I still to marry Jimin?”

Jungkook grabbed your face and growled against your pouted lips, “You’re not going anywhere.”

#bts au #jeon jungkook #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader #jungkook imagine #bts jungkook #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #bts #bts x reader #bts fanfiction #bts scenarios #bangtan imagine #bts smut #jeon jungkook scenarios #bts fic #jeongguk #bangtan #bts x you

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ybklix · 11 months ago

Text

playing with his hair

giirrrl idk, a feral thought maybe; bf!felix x fem!reader w his long hair since i’m too lazy to make it a whole detail fic for now lol so, (i deadass tried to make it a drabble but it pass the 1k words😮‍💨)

genre - warnings: smut, fluff!! dry humping, handjob, grinding, unprotected piv, mention of cockwarming, idol bf felix btw

word count: 1.6k

a/n: this is what i have to deal with everyday, actually, oopsies, he’s next to me rn! also writing in present it’s so new, I like to read it when yall write like that, but I’ll stick with past tense😁 edit: girl i had this in the drafts for days, but he was a little too happy in his recent promoting video, he’s sleeping outside, someone pick him up /jk srly pls

Felix likes to try new hairstyles ever since he let grow his hair, he feels very confident with it and likes the way you randomly stroke it every time you’re together.

Your idea of fun is one of those very rare free afternoons for him since he’s all the time busy at work; it’s when you’re just chilling together at your place because you feel too lazy to go out but very comfortable with each other’s company.

Your days are simple, and your hours with him are very limited but he always makes sure to enjoy being with him; so you try to do everything at once, watch a movie, talk, lay on his chest while he’s playing games on his cell phone… and suddenly, just playing around, with you sitting on his lap in front of him, giggling while playing with his hair.

“Fuck, your hair is so fried” you tease him with a smile, looking at your fingers entangling with his straight hair.

He pouts, “Stop, then don’t touch it…” he responds also joking, just watching you with heart and sparkling eyes.

Felix rests his hands on your tights and caresses them softly. You down your gaze to meet his, he’s suddenly looking at you so sweetly that makes your cheeks get a little warm.

“Can I play with it?” you asked joyfully.

“With what?”

“Your hair” you replied in an obvious tone, “I can do pigtails, braids, middle part, side part” you continue to say, laughing while playing with his hair.

Felix chuckles softly, completely in love, closing his eyes sometimes, then looking up at your arms.

“Wait here” you speak again, standing up from his lap and going to get a comb, hair ties, bobby pins and some random hair clips to take pictures of him just for fun.

“You can also do my make-up if you want” he comments, raising his thick voice so you can hear him.

You sit back down on his lap.

“Oh no, you wear makeup almost every day, let your face rest today” you answer, kissing him tenderly on the bridge of his nose, hiding a little bit the fact that you love seeing your boyfriend’s bare face, straight black eyelashes, big dark eyes, full lips, cheeks and nose with freckles all over.

You laugh at doing whatever you want with his hair, taking silly pictures every time you find him adorable, just giggling saying your favorite inside jokes, then ending with a bow on his hair.

“You can really use me, huh” Felix says, giving you a funny but adorable look with his eyes wide open.

Felix starts caressing your back, with more consistent and intense caresses and he suddenly realizes how you haven’t kissed each other on the lips the whole time, so he moves closer to you and you without hesitation receive his kiss, following a tender and slow rhythm at first, pressing your lips together in a delicate lip rubbing, but you’re a bit desperate when it comes to each other, so your boyfriend catches his breath between kisses and looks himself at the work of being more glued and pouncing on you, with his touches all over your body, from your thighs to your back, slipping his hands under your blouse to feel your bare skin.

Your make out starts to heat up precipitously that you can feel the growing erection in his shorts, so, with your hands wrapped around his neck, you begin to move over his cock, pressing it to your core and stimulating you both. At this point, your pussy is throbbing and you feel slightly heated. You’re always impressed by how incredibly fast you want and desire him. You both moan softly at the friction. As you pull apart you smile slightly mischievously at him and for some reason you start kissing his neck, which Felix loves so, causing him to give you a huge tender smile showing his teeth, clutching his grip on your hips tighter.

You pull away once more to meet the wide grin on his face, which gently turns into a slightly strained expression as you continue to move your body against his erection, Felix gasps, his lips forming a soft expression of satisfaction this time with his submissive facing enjoying the naughty act of crushing his cock with your center, with your clothes on.

“Fuck, baby, it feels so good” Felix sighs, biting his slightly swollen, full lips, lowering his gaze to your pussy being trapped in him, moving his erection back and forth, guiding your hips for better movement.

You smile satisfactorily at him in response, each time feeling the heat of your body and pussy brush against your panties, wetting them all over, just playing more with your arousal. You see him, he looks so fucking cute and yet so hot with the last few hairstyles you gave him, two little high ponytails with bows leaving the rest of his hair loose, he looked silly cute, but serious manly moans coming out of him contrasts somehow so perfectly.

Felix sighs again sonorously, his legs shaking a little, he doesn’t think he can take it long enough without cumming if you keep moving so dedicatedly on him so he speaks again:

“Mmm, c’mon baby, take off your clothes, or do you want me to take you to bed.”

A pleasant shock goes through your body as you hear him a little more needy, you’re not thinking straight and you don’t want to pull away from him so you just reply a simple, “It’s okay like this, Lix.”

With your heart beating fast you grab his shorts, indicating you want to pull them down, Felix helps you right away, releasing his pink, needy, throbbing cock, you look down at his member and then at the same time you join gazes, Felix looks at you so needy and innocent, his big eyes begging you to touch him, you can’t help but melt every time he does that and in a needy sigh, with your cheeks a little red, you stand up, embarrassed, pulling down your comfy cloth shorts along with your panties, climbing back onto his lap, catching your boyfriend licking his lips at the sight of your cute bare mons venus.

Felix smiles, so excited at the thought of feeling you on him again, now with the sensation of your warm wet center in him, he gets more excited at the thought that you were finally going to settle on him ready to fuck, however, you start pumping his entire erect length, making him gasp loudly as he throws his head back, marking his bulging Adam's apple in his throat. Felix returns to his posture, looking straight into you with desire, biting his lip as you with a smile, touch all over his cock, stroking his tip gently with your fingers, feeling his stiffness and the slight sticky precum sliding down your hand as you jerk him off.

You’re so wet, and Felix is getting over the edge, so you finally accommodate your body, squeezing your pussy tighter on his cock, grinding on it a little before you put his cock inside you, encouraging in him more arousal if that was possible, teasing him and you at the sensation of his dick rub between your labia, until you feel his throbbing member so foreplayed, and until you see your boyfriend’s sweet expression as he can’t resist anymore and, finally you insert his rigid manhood completely in you. The temperature of both your bodies rises, it feels so fucking good to be filled by him, every move you make comes out of pure bliss, panting, sliding on his cock in a rhythm that makes him shudder and moan; Felix feels every part of his body beat intensely, enjoying every thrust into him.

“Oh, fuck, l-ove, ke-keep going please, I’m gonna cum, fuuck” he whimpers, desperate in a high-pitched tone, closing his eyes.

Felix thinks about the idea of cumming all of him inside you, of filling you up, brings him to a better ecstasy and in a thick sigh of relief and satisfaction, he manages to cum, relaxing a bit all the tension built in his body, making his thighs restless in soft tingling and trembling. You rest your hands on his shoulders and hide your face on the side of his neck, moaning close to his ear and with your face brushing against his soft hair, gently overwhelming you with his sweet scent, you bite your lip at the sensation of his hot semen shooting inside you and you also sense you’re so close to your climax that, despite being slightly tired, you intensify and increase each movement, sliding a little more slippery as you are filled with his cum. You hug him without thinking, your walls squeeze his sensitive cock still stuck in your core, you’re climaxing so intensely that you open your mouth almost in an inaudible squeal, your vision blurs for a few seconds and you let yourself release completely onto your boyfriend.

You feel the joining of agitated chests and breaths, Felix hug you warmly wrapping your back, once again your body melts at the slightest touch of his, but you can’t help but feel him so close to you, acting tenderly. Felix doesn’t even have to say it, but you know he loves you, you feel it too, so you relax your body on top of him, stroke his hair and he gives you a soft kiss on your shoulder as he caresses your back and keeps you in such a vulnerable position with both sexes together, with you on top of him until you decide to move.

——————-

𐙚TAGLIST: @rylea08 @hann1bee @iovecb97 @armystay89 @bubblebisk

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formulamar · 6 months ago

Text

puppy love (but it’s cats!) part 2

part 1

max verstappen x vet!yn

fc: girls from pinterest

summary: as a Monaco native, Yn has had her fair share of encounters with F1 drivers. and as a vet, she has even fostered close relationships with some of the driver's pets. what happens when she is introduced to a single Max Verstappen who has two adorable cats?

rumorhasitf1

liked by butfirstmax, exusername and 6,083 others

rumorhasitf1: 🚨 JUST IN 🚨

Max Verstappen spotted kissing a mysterious brunette while on vacation in the Bahamas 👀

1,672 comments

maxisfast: mama a frat boy era max behind YOU 💜

dutch1: call me crazy but she has the same hair length as the girl in barcelona

maxiellvr: that or he just has a type 🤔

vermax: OHHHHHHH AGAIN?

frmlamax: he's just kissing everyone at this point (jk it's been like 2 people)

maxstap1: me 3 drinks in

butfirstmax: and what if it's vetyn...

albon33: i mean she is brunette..

vermax: and so are a million other girls lets chill guys

rbgirl: ANDDDD may he enjoy it *insert Olivia Wilde nodding gif*

maxlovescats: no fr people are acting like he's a hoe or something like his life up until now has been so hyper focused on racing. dating has always been a secondary thing and he's always been in long term relationships let him have some funnnn

rbgirl: TRUTH.

userloves1633: not max's ex in the likes...

30three: honestly it could be that they're back together or that she's not leaving him alone which not surprising considering the break up aftermath.

vetyn

liked by maxverstappen1 and 3,781 others

vetyn: a summer for the books 📖🌅🌊🫧

1,782 comments

ynbestfriend: oh FOR SURE 😏

vetyn: hehe 🤭

f1fan: omg that looks like one of Max's cats

frmlamax: WAIT...

lilymhe: gorg girl I miss you!

vetyn: i miss you so so so much. see you soon tho xx

ynfriend: prettiest girl!

liked by vetyn

maxverstappen1: Paddel rematch?

vetyn: oh you're on but i’ll win!

maxverstappen1: We'll see about that

rbgirl: ARE WE ALL SEEING THISSSSSS

ynsister: THE KITTTTYYYYY 🥰

vetyn: my baby 🥹💞

girlstappen: ok maybe i'm just delulu but that watch looks a lot like Max's

maxlovescats: NO I WAS THINKING THAT TOO

albonooo: omg were you at the Monaco GP???

vetyn: yes ☺️

alexandrasaintmleux: 💕

liked by vetyn

rumorhasitf1

liked by alex_albon, vermax and 6,523 others

rumorhasitf1: Max Verstappen was asked about his new relationship in the media pen.

1,873 comments

lexalbon: NOT ALEX IN THE LIKES???

twenty33three: that really makes me think he was the wingman

maxiellvr: notice how the interviewer says "newly" hehe no ex here!

verstappen4life: true and he looks so re-energized

notmaxver: guys it has to be @/vetyn

userloves1633: THE DIRECT TAG IS CRAZY LOL

frmla1girl: true but i mean the clues are there

frmlamax: he looks sooooo happy aweee

rbgirl: BLUSHING AND SMILING

maxisfast: I hope we get to see them together soon!

ynbff story

[caption 1] new tradition? [caption 2] thank you for letting sassy spend the day with auntie 🥰 @/vetyn @/maxverstappen1

user: yn's bff.... is "auntie" to a bengal...named SASSY AND yn's bff tagged MAX VERSTAPPEN on the story...

user: I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS AHHHHHH

user: wait was this posted on accident i thought they were keeping it lowkey

user: yes I think she didn't mean to post it LMAO

user: the third story omg 💀

user: this is so funny 😭

vetyn

liked by maxverstappen1, ynsister and 14,267 others

vetyn: a very special weekend 💙🦁 met some very cute dogs and reunited with others! oh and my boyfriend was there too!

9,523 comments

ynbff: omg hard launch awesome 😱 so can we just pretend i didnt lowkey leak your relationship on accident 💕

vetyn: right okay…

maxverstappen1: Don’t worry we forgive you

ynbff: THANKS MAX 😄

girlstappen: THE PICTURE 🥹

ynfriend: so happy for you!!!!

liked by vetyn

notmaxver: OHHH I KNEW IT

rbgirl: why is no one talking about the caption i burst out laughing 😭

f1fan: no cause same

dutch1: the drinks same girl

maxiellvr: when cat lovers meet 🐈

liked by vetyn

alex_albon: Where’s my credit?

lilymhe: what are you talking about? this was all my doing? 🤨

alex_albon: I LITERALLY SET THEM UP

vetyn: alex don’t lie!

alex_albon: At this point you guys are just ganging up on me

maxisfast: new wag alert!

frmlamax: cutest couple ever omg

⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°

a/n: anddd here’s part 2! sorry for taking forever school was really stressful for like 2 months straight but i’m so happy the semester is over 🧚🏻 also congrats to max and kelly on their baby!!!! i think i posted part 1 to this like a week before that was announced lol!

taglist: @anilovessadbooks @raizelchrysanderoctavius

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badbtssmut · 1 year ago

Text

Money shot

When you want to make it into the porn industry, there’s only one thing stopping you; you don’t have a male partner to costar in your audition tape, but fortunately for you, your best friend Jungkook is eager to star in your first tape.

Contains: blowjob, fingering, jk cums on her face, jk being smug, doggy, missionary, riding, dirty talk, some spanking, possessive Jungkook?, recording

Admin note: Idea from one of my anons :)

—

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Are you really asking me that while I’m standing here butt naked with a boner in my hands? Come on, I think we are way past the point of second guessing whether I want this or not. Besides, it was your idea to begin with, don’t be a chicken, y/n.”

“I am not being a chicken! I just— was checking on you, I just don’t want things to be different between us, ya know?” You say while staring at the carpet beneath your feet, trying not to look at his big cock standing proud right in front of your face.

Jungkook placed a finger under your chin, raising your head so you would look at him.

"Nothing will be different between us, okay? If at any point you want to stop, just tell me. I won't do anything unless you tell me to, you know I won't force you to do anything you don't want to do. And the same goes for me, aight? If I want to stop at any point, I’ll tell you. Now stop worrying.”

You take a deep breath before answering.

"Okay, okay. Let's do this."

Jungkook grabs the camera, starting the recording. He sits down on the couch and gestures for you to come closer. You kneel in front of him, starting by wrapping your fingers around his cock, pumping him slowly while you looked up at the lens, before your eyes gazed back at the cock, watching his cock swell up at your efforts. You stopped jerking him off, and instead used your mouth, taking as much of his cock as possible before you started to bob your head up and down.

Jungkook grunted, temporarily forgetting about the device in his hands, quickly snapping out of it as he readjusted the focus on you, trying to keep the camera from shaking due to the pleasure he was receiving from the warmth of your mouth.

“Fuck, yes,” Jungkook hissed, throwing his head back as you continued sucking him off, his cock hitting the back of your throat every time you went down on him. “Babe, show the camera your pretty pussy.” He instructed and you stood, Jungkook stood from the couch, positioning the camera on the table in front of the both of you, before he walked over to you to pull off your lingerie.

His hands roamed over your chest, before moving to your backside and giving it a squeeze, a gasp escaping your lips at the suddenness of it.

“Come here.” Jungkook pulled you to the couch and got you on his lap. “Spread your legs for the camera.”

You obeyed, spreading your legs open, and Jungkook took the opportunity to tease your folds with his fingers, before sinking a digit into your wet cunt. You moaned at the feeling of his long digits, and bucked your hips forward as he added another, his thumb flicking at your clit.

He fingered you like this, and your head rolled back, eyes closed in bliss. You let him have control of your body, your moans filling the air.

But before you could get to your peak, he stopped, his fingers sliding out of you and you whimpered.

Jungkook licked his fingers and grabbed his cock, placing it at your entrance.

“Want my cock now, don't you?" He said, slapping his cock against your cunt. You nodded, and he smirked, teasing your folds with the tip of his cock. Fuck, it felt hard as steel.

"Then show them how well you take me, baby."

You sank down on his cock, letting it stretch your walls, and you sighed. Fuck, it felt so fucking good. You started bouncing up and down, and Jungkook's hands settled on your hips, guiding your movements, thrusting his hips up to meet yours.

Your moans filled the air, the sound of your wetness mixed with his grunts. The camera captured every detail of the penetration, and the thought of how it would be used made you feel even more aroused. Would this tape be the start of your career? Would the executives be drooling or getting a boner from watching this tape?

“Love cock?” Jungkook whispered in your ear, repeating himself again when he realized the camera must’ve not picked that up. “You love this cock, y/n?”

“Ya, love cock, so good.” You said with a shaky breath. “Oh!” You winced, forcing yourself to bounce on his cock harder, but your back and hips started to feel sore, and your thighs began to ache. Jungkook noticed how you were starting to slow down, and decided to switch positions, he stopped you, and guided you off his cock. “Get on the bed.” He instructed you, taking the camera from the table, soon joining you on the bed. The camera pointed down at your dripping wet pussy, and his tip teased your folds, sliding his full length up and down against your slick, the head of his cock brushing against your clit, sending tingles down your spine.

You moaned, your body shivering from the teasing, and you couldn't help but lift your hips, trying to get him to enter you. He chuckled, finally sinking into your cunt, and you both groaned at the feeling.

"So tight," He mumbled, pulling his cock out and pushing it back into your pussy. "Feel good, baby?"

"Yes, ah, feels good…”

Jungkook started fucking you slowly, his hips rocking back and forth. He kept his eyes on the camera, the lens focusing on where your bodies were joined. His other hand moved to your ankle, holding onto it as he quickened his pace. Your pussy was so wet, it was making lewd squelching sounds as he fucked you.

“Pussy doing so good, taking me so well...fuck, so tight and warm for me."

You could only moan in response.

"Yeah, your little cunt loves this cock, doesn't it?"

You whimpered, feeling the tip of his cock graze against your sweet spot.

“Yes, my cunt loves cock so much,” You moaned.

Jungkook let out a shaky breath, pulling out of you before he made you turn on your belly, ass up and head down, and he spanked your ass, causing you to squeal. He gave it another smack, the flesh jiggling.

"Arch your back a bit," He said, and you did.

The camera was now aimed at your ass, and he pushed the tip of his cock into your begging pussy. He thrusted into you, one hand holding the camera, while the other hand grabbed onto your hair, tugging at it as he slammed into your pussy.

"Fuck, oh!" You cried, and his grip on your hair tightened, his cock drilling in and out of you, the bed creaking beneath the both of you.

"So fucking good, shit."

"Yes, fuck, more, more, more, please," You whined, and he groaned.

"Take my cock so well, babe. So beautiful." He looked around for a place to put the camera on, and he decided on the dresser, the camera now recording both of you from a different angle.

Jungkook's hand was still in your hair, and he pulled at it, using it as an anchor as he pounded into you.

"I'm close," You whined, the tip of his cock pounding your sweet spot relentlessly. "Oh please, yes, right there!"

"Come, cum on my cock," He challenged you, his pace speeding up, your arms gave out and your face hit the pillows.

"Ah, ah, ah," You gasped, the pleasure building up inside you. You tried to get back up but Jungkook grabbed hold of your arms and pinned them back, his fingers interlocking with yours, his weight on top of you, fucking into you steadily.

"Oh, oh, oh," You moaned, toes curling and teeth gritted. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," You cried, starting to see stars, your knees wobbling.

“Thought you were gonna cum? I guess your greedy pussy didn’t wanna huh? Want to keep it wrapped around my cock, don't you, babe?"

“Yes, don’t want to stop, never want you to stop."

"Yeah? Never want me to stop?” He cooed, his hands now moving to your hips, guiding you back and forth on his cock, and you started to ride him backwards.

At this rate, you were going to pass out, you were overflowing from pleasure, but somehow, you were still eager for more.

"Oh, fuck," You whimpered, and you were a panting, sweating mess, the room was hot, and all you could hear was the slapping of skin against skin, along with the grunts and moans coming out of both of your mouths. You were so close.

Jungkook plopped the camera right in front of your face, now capturing how you were so fucked out and yet, still desperate for more.

"You will show the camera what that face looks like when you cum, right?"

You nodded. "Yeah, want to show the camera when I cum, please, oh, ah, more, please,"

You were moaning uncontrollably, feeling so fucking sensitive, and the camera was now capturing the look on your face, the way you were biting your lips and clenching your jaw, teary eyes from the intensity of the pleasure. You felt Jungkook’s hands squeeze into your tits, his cock pounding your sweet spot mercilessly, and that sent you over the edge.

"FUCK!" You screamed, cumming on his cock, pussy convulsing around him, your legs trembling. You buried your face in the pillows, muffling your cries, and he stopped thrusting, allowing you to ride out your orgasm on his cock on your own pace.

When you were all spent, Jungkook pulled out of you and took the camera, pointing it down at your face as he started to rub himself off, a few pumps later and he was spilling his cum onto your face, some of his load getting in your hair. He groaned, his body jerking forward from his climax, and the camera caught the whole thing, the lens zooming in on the streaks of white on your face.

“And… remove.”

“Huh? What are you doing?” You asked, voice hoarse from the screaming, and he reached over to grab a tissue from the nightstand, wiping the cum from your face.

“Sorry, but you won’t be sending in any audition tapes, After today… I won’t allow any man to see you in this way, this is only for my eyes and mine only.” And without warning, he pressed his lips against yours.

#bts smut #bts x reader #bts requests #bts smut requests #bts fanfic #bts smut fanfic #jungkook smut #jungkook x female reader #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jungkook smut fanfic #jungkook x oc #jungkook x you

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joyswonderland1108 · 15 days ago

Text

🪖💐 Jikook’s Military Discharge: The Pink Air, The Shared Showers, and Third-Wheeling Lives🌸🚿

✨Hi hello, I hope you're all hydrated, your emotions have recovered, your Jikook heart is intact (doubtful) and your Wi-Fi is stable because… JIKOOK ARE BACK FROM THEIR MILITARY HONEYMOON—I MEAN SERVICE. And somehow, in true Jikook fashion, even gayer than before.✨

So first things first, our military husbands finally finished their 18-month service, and naturally, chaos ensued the moment they appeared together. It wasn’t even 10 seconds into their joint discharge and these two were already giggling like freshly confessed teenagers at a school talent show. Why were they being all shy and flustered like it was the first day of their arranged marriage?? Also… the bouquet. Jimin got a pink bouquet, his cheeks were pink, his vibe was pink, the literal air around him was pink. The gay radiance was unmatched.

They each gave a little speech because of course they did. And what does Jungkook do? Stands completely turned toward Jimin like it’s instinct. At this point, his magnetic north is just “Park Jimin.” It's like he was absorbing solar power from him. Truly, if Jimin moved an inch, JK would’ve toppled over like a sim whose energy bar ran out.

And THEN they left the base in the same car. THE SAME. CAR. When was the last time we saw them get into the same vehicle like that? Let’s rewind to Vegas 2022. So yeah. It’s giving full circle. It’s giving reunion. It’s giving “we survived the front lines AND each other for 18 months, let’s ride home together babe.”

Anyway, we all waited like starving pigeons outside a bakery while they headed to HYBE to settle in, hydrate, and probably fight over who gets the big towel. Two hours pass, and we get The Live™. That cursed blessed Live. Oh god.

Now, Jungkook told us he doesn’t have much to say. Sounds chill, right? But then somehow spends the next 20 minutes only talking to Jimin. You know, the same man he literally spent 18 months with. Like okay, maybe military regulations banned them from speaking to each other? Maybe they were telepathing the whole time? Either way, it was clear we were third wheeling in that Live. We were just the background audience to whatever romantic sitcom they’re filming.

Apparently, there are still “many stories” they want to tell us, but can’t yet. Because they were tired, hungry, AND they need to confirm what they’re allowed to say. Which honestly just screams: we did some borderline fanfiction-level things and need to get clearance before accidentally confirming your ships. Got it.

Let’s talk about the gay shenanigans:

In classic gay chaos, Jimin casually mentions how in the early weeks of service, he woke up with Jungkook’s face right in front of him. Not even 12 hours post-discharge and they’re already telling us about their morning like it was the morning after prom. And JK? He just “wanted to lean on Jimin.” SIR. We are trying to survive out here. This is not a BL web drama, it’s real life.

JK, without hesitation, hit us with, “I was going to shower but Jimin was busy so I waited.” SORRY? You waited for him to finish… so you could... shower together???Jungkook-ssi, correct me if I’m wrong but this is “buddy enlistment,” not “buddy bathe together.” No one is stopping you from showering except your own inner romantic. That was NOT in the standard issue enlistment brochure. But I guess when you're Jikook, the rules just… don’t apply. WHO WAITS FOR THEIR BRO TO SHOWER TOGETHER??? Now. The shower thing needs to be underlined, bolded, and circled in red. Jungkook quite literally chose not to shower alone because Jimin wasn’t available. Let that sink in. He waited. Like it was a date. Imagine the casual audacity of saying, “Oh yeah I’ll shower after you finish your thing so we can go together 💖” …in front of millions.

Anyway, JK brought out a photo strip during the live. And it was giving couple booth energy. We haven't seen the full thing yet but i hope it's coming, I hope it drops and if it does? We riot in the streets in matching satin pajamas.

Oh and Jimin, baby angel, says: “When we enlisted, we just thought it would be nice to be together.” NO THOUGHTS. NO PLANS. JUST VIBES. They didn't even check the military logistics. They were just like, “Let’s do this thing together, consequences be damned!” Because being apart wasn’t an option, apparently. They didn’t even consider that they might be sent to different divisions or—oh, I don’t know—the front lines?? Because Jikook logic says: “Where you go, I go.” No thoughts, just love and matching buzzcuts. 🤝

And THEN, there’s the legendary tummy poke moment™. Jimin’s stomach growled (same), and JK POKED HIS TUMMY LIKE A FREAKING CARTOON CHARACTER IN LOVE. Cue me screaming into a void.

And THEN we got the moment that truly encapsulates the domestic Jikook energy: Jungkook, ever the soft romantic, tried to feed Jimin a rose petal. Yes, an edible flower, placed delicately on the cake like a metaphor for their whole existence: beautiful, unexpected, a little extra. He picks it up with such intention and offers it to Jimin like he’s recreating a wedding reception moment. It’s the fact that Jungkook saw a flower and thought “Jimin should eat this” that sends me into the stratosphere. Why? Because love is feeding your soulmate flowers on a live broadcast and giggling while doing it.

The entire live was a rollercoaster. Between the giggles, the accidental flirting, the “I missed you even though you were right there” energy, and Jungkook poking Jimin’s tummy like a human teddy bear, I was on the floor. Jimin's hand on Jungkook’s lap while reading comments, Jungkook rubbed Jimin’s neck when he got nervous. IT WAS DOMESTIC. IT WAS INTIMATE. IT WAS EVERYTHING.

Now listen. I don’t like to jump to conclusions but I’m jumping and the conclusion is: they are in love and they don’t care who knows.

And they kept talking to each other. They were so giddy and awkward and shy it felt like we were third-wheeling their post-military honeymoon getaway debrief.

So to summarize:

Jimin: “Woke up JK's face right in front of him in the military dorms.”

JK: “Waited for Jimin so they could shower together.”

Both: “Have so many stories but don’t know what’s safe to share.” (GOD WHAT ARE YOU HIDING)

And just when you thought it couldn’t get better, Jimin says, “We have many stories. We should do this more often.” Oh? Is that a promise? Is that a weekly livestream deal I just heard?? Because if not, I will be suing for emotional damages. That’s false advertising. So guess what? I’m holding them legally accountable. That was a verbal contract, and I’m expecting weekly bedtime story Lives where they spoon under a shared blanket and tell us about the time Jimin made Jungkook ramen at 2AM on base. (It happened. Don’t ask for proof.)

And look. I know some of you are gonna say “they’re just besties” and to that I say: grow up. Jikook are literally in their Soft Military Boyfriends Era™ and if you can’t see it, your shipper lens expired in 2019.

And just when the emotional damage was almost manageable, just when our hearts had barely stabilized, they posted The Selfie™. The discharged, glowing, rosy-cheeked, post-live, shared-car, shared-shower, flower-feeding boyfriend selfie.

Honestly? They didn’t just return from the military. They returned to each other.

Jikook is not just real. They are thriving.

Welcome to Post-Military Domestic Jikook. We are so back.

#jikook #kookmin #minkook #Jikook nation #Domestic Jikook #Military Jikook #Soulmates in uniforms

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hamsterclaw · 1 year ago

Text

You end up being responsible for Jeon Jungkook, who's impulsive, annoying and in the habit of breaking the law. Unfortunately for you, he's also funny and sexy as fuck. There's no way this can end well, can it?

Pairing: Jungkook x f!reader

Genre: Crack, smut, rookie lawyer reader and criminal JK

Rating: 18+

Word count: 11k

Warnings: Sex, swearing, criminal activity, smoking

Present day

‘Who,’ breathes Gracie, your new client, ‘the fuck is that?’

You look in the direction she’s facing, and die inside, as the black custom Skyline glides to a smooth stop on the road, in front of you.

‘Uh, so I’ll call when I hear back about the patents,’ you say hurriedly, before….

Too late.

The passenger door opens, and you hear Gracie gasp audibly as she sees the man in the driver’s seat.

His wavy dark hair almost covers his eyes. He rakes his tattooed hand through his hair casually, his silver piercings gleaming in the light from the streetlamps above you.

You get in before he can say anything, shutting the door firmly behind you.

‘Just drive,’ you say, through gritted teeth.

‘Seatbelt,’ he reminds you, but he’s already pulling away from the curb.

You buckle up and stare out the window so you don’t have to look at his ridiculously pretty face.

‘Nice skirt,’ he says.

‘Don’t talk to me,’ you snap.

‘Fine,’ he says, just to annoy you.

He flicks the music on, and the interior of the car fills with the pulsing synth of the early 90s house that he’s been into lately.

He’s a good driver, you’ll give him that.

By the time he pulls into the underground car park of your building, your head is pounding from the loud music he’s played the entire journey home.

You know from experience that if you complain he’ll just turn it up louder.

‘Did you get into anything when I was with my client?’ you ask, because you have to.

The lying asshole has the audacity to give you an innocent look. It’s surprisingly effective, he was born with the wide eyes and pouty lips required to pull it off.

You remind yourself again that Jeon Jungkook is not to be trusted.

You raise an eyebrow, and wait.

Finally, he says, ‘Nothing.’

You harden your stare.

‘Nothing,’ he insists.

He kills the engine and you both exit the car and head for the lifts.

He lives in the apartment next to yours, and the only reason a rich asshole like him is in your building is because his rich parents have paid for him to stay next to you, as his appointed guardian.

It’s an unconventional arrangement which he’d only agreed to because the alternative was jail time.

You’d only agreed to it because his mother is your boss at the law firm you work at, and it’s not just that you need the job, but you’re also one step away from becoming an associate.

Jungkook holds the lift door open with a booted foot.

‘After you,’ he says.

‘The doors are automatic, you don’t have to hold them open,’ you point out.

You know he knows this.

Anyone who’s ever been in a lift knows it.

Jungkook admires himself in the lift mirrors. You look away, but not before he catches you looking at him.

‘Like what you see?’ he asks, voice velvety.

‘No,’ you say flatly, turning away.

He snickers softly but says nothing else.

You reach your floor and sigh with relief.

Finally.

It’s been a long day, and you can’t wait to go home and recharge in the solitude of your apartment.

You can already feel yourself sinking into the plushness of your new sofa after a hot shower. It’s Thursday, too, so there’s a new episode of your favourite drama being released today, and there’s leftovers in the fridge….

Jeon Jungkook’s annoying voice interrupts your daydream.

‘I have to go out again tonight,’ he tells you.

One stipulation his parents made to your unusual arrangement is that you have to accompany him whenever he leaves the apartment after dark.

‘Why?’ you ask, letting your irritation show in your tone.

‘I said I’d meet some guys,’ he says. He holds his hands up as you glare at him. ‘It’s for business.’

You’ve reached your door. You think longingly of your sofa and your drama, and stifle a sigh.

‘I just need a shower and to eat before we go,’ you say, resigned.

‘Fine. I’ll knock in an hour, ok?’ he says.

You don’t bother to respond.

By the time he knocks at your door, you’re out of your work clothes and in sweats and a hoodie.

At his surprised look you raise your eyebrows at him.

‘Am I underdressed for your business meeting?’ you ask, like you care.

He rolls his eyes. ‘I just thought you only wore business pantsuits,’ he replies, smiling sweetly at you.

Your stomach growls. You’d spent too long in the shower and hadn’t had a chance to eat. It’d been worth it.

You ignore it and lock your apartment door.

‘I’m ready.’

Jungkook whistles the tune from a newish pop song as you head for the lifts.

He’s annoyingly melodic, and now the infectious tune’s in your head.

You focus on not humming along as you follow him to his car and get in the passenger seat.

‘Seatbelt,’ he says, and you roll your eyes.

‘Yes, mum.’

‘You look and act like you’re 14,’ Jungkook retorts, navigating out the car park.

‘Where are we going?’ you ask, looking out the window, ignoring his comment.

‘Verve,’ he replies, casual.

You sit up. ‘What?’

Verve is the newest, hottest restaurant in town. It opened a month ago, and it’s still impossible to get a table.

‘I can’t go there dressed like this!’

Jungkook shrugs. ‘No one asked you to get into your PJs.’

You’re livid. ‘You should have told me.’

Jungkook shrugs again. ‘You didn’t ask specifically.’

You have to sit on your hands to stop yourself from punching his smug, pretty face. You catch sight of yourself in the rearview mirror and whip the towelling headband you use when you wash your face off your head.

You seethe silently in the passenger seat until Jungkook turns to you.

‘Stop breathing so angrily.’

‘I’m sorry my essential functions are expressing unacceptable emotions to you,’ you gripe.

‘That’s not normal breathing,’ Jungkook argues.

There’s a few beats of silence, then Jungkook prods your side.

‘Don’t hold your breath either.’

You suck in an irritated breath and try to moderate your tone. ‘In the future I’d appreciate some notice if we’re going anywhere with a dress code,’ you tell Jungkook.

‘Fine,’ Jungkook agrees. ‘I like short skirts, if I may express a preference.’

‘You. May. Not.’ You say, clipped.

He just laughs to himself as he reverses effortlessly into a slot on the street outside the restaurant.

‘These guys,’ he starts, then breaks off. ‘Are you wearing a bra?’

You cross your arms across your chest defensively. ‘Shut up.’

‘Your tits look great,’ Jungkook says.

‘Shut up!’

Jungkook opens the door to Verve, and you wait nervously next to him.

You can feel eyes on you, as soft and snuggly as your hoodie and sweats are, they make you stand out in all the wrong ways in this place full of people in discreet labels.

You shuffle self-consciously as the host arrives and gives you a none-too-subtle once-over.

He opens his mouth, and Jungkook says, ‘We have a reservation at eight, Frederic said he’d block out the terrace for us.’

The whole demeanour of the host changes at Jungkook’s words.

‘Of course. You must be Mr Jeon.’

You find yourself being ushered through the restaurant and up a back staircase to a huge terrace with heat lamps, a glass ceiling and Koi pond in the centre of the terrace.

‘What the fuck,’ you mutter.

Jungkook gives you his greasiest smile, and you glower at him in response.

The two men he’s here to meet are dressed like mafia consiglieres, and they, like the host, look at you doubtfully as you approach with Jungkook.

‘My lawyer,’ Jungkook says, not bothering to introduce you by name or with any accuracy.

You’re a lawyer, but not his lawyer, and you’re glad for it because you have no obligation to keep any of his assholery confidential.

The mafia guys eye you with renewed respect, and you keep quiet.

‘Before we start, can we order? My lawyer here skipped dinner,’ Jungkook says.

You’re so surprised at his thoughtful gesture you stare at him.

He ignores you, already looking through the tablet one of the men has handed him.

***

The buzzing of your phone is insistent and pervasive, pulling you further and further out of the warm cocoon of the best sleep you’ve had in a while.

You’re floating on clouds, weightless and boneless and warm and in the distance you can see an angel, smiling at you. He’s got dark hair, a physique sculpted by Italian masters, and a tattoo sleeve…

What the fuck!

You bolt upright and your phone falls off your pillow, clattering onto the floor.

You pick it up and accidentally answer, only to be greeted by the grinning ass face of one Jeon Jungkook.

It’s a video call, which means….

He can see you!

With a horrified yelp you toss the phone onto your bed.

‘I’ve already seen everything,’ he assures you, muffled on account of your phone being face down in your sheets. ‘Now you’re awake, can I come over?’

‘What do you want, Jeon Jungkook?’ you snap, pulling your covers up to your neck.

‘I want your opinion on something,’ he says.

‘What’s the magic word?’ you ask.

‘I’ll tell my mum you’re associate material….’

‘Please, don’t act like I don’t deserve that position off my own back,’ you reply, bored.

‘I’ll let you watch me work out shirtless at the gym,’ he offers.

‘Like you’re going to be able to resist posting a gym selfie later,’ you scoff.

‘Please,’ he says.

You sigh. ‘Fine. Give me five minutes to brush my teeth.’

‘Don’t feel you need to put anything on, over that silky pink thing you’re wearing,’ Jungkook tells you.

You hang up without taking the bait.

When he knocks at your door, you give him an assessing look.

‘Does helping you involve anything illegal?’ you ask.

‘I have a date. You’re a woman,’ Jungkook says, adding ‘almost’ under his breath.

You scowl at him. ‘Go on, keep insulting me, that’ll make me want to help you more.’

He holds out a mug. ‘I made you coffee.’

You look suspiciously at it. ‘Did you roofie this?’

Jungkook scoffs. ‘Please why wouldn’t I want you to remember the best sexual experience you’ll ever have.’

‘Get out of my apartment.’

‘No, please,’ he pleads, holding up his hands in surrender. ‘I need your advice on which set to wear.’

You realise he’s also holding a garment bag.

‘Fine,’ you say, waving a hand.

You sip your coffee. It’s surprisingly good, but you nearly choke on it when Jungkook slips his shirt over his head and starts unbuttoning his jeans.

‘Wait!’ you shriek. ‘What are you doing?’

He looks down at his beautiful naked torso, feigning confusion. You know he’s faking because of the smug smirk on his face.

‘I need to try them on so you know what they look like on me,’ he says, innocent.

‘There are two bedrooms in this apartment,’ you say, stern. ‘Use one of them to change. Do not come out until you are fully dressed.��

Jungkook pouts but still flexes a little as he struts past you. You pretend not to notice how his back muscles taper into his slender waist.

As he gets changed, you consider what you might want for breakfast. It’s Saturday, so the brunch place down the corner opens earlier.

Shit! Saturday?

Jungkook mistakes the expression on your face as a reaction to his outfit rather than your own internal screaming.

‘Shit. I knew it. Too much?’ he asks, turning around so you can see how the rips running up the backs of his legs in the jeans he’s wearing go all the way up to the edges of his boxer briefs.

‘No, you look like a sexy whore,’ you say absently, scrolling your calendar.

You look up to see him frowning at you.

‘And yet, you’re not looking,’ he complains.

‘I have a date tonight too,’ you tell him.

He looks so surprised you toss a throw cushion at him.

‘Are you lying because you don’t want me to think you’re a sad workaholic who’s been chronically single since university?’ he asks, with such accuracy you throw another throw cushion at him.

You wonder if that’s why they’re called throw cushions.

‘It’s a blind date,’ you say. ‘My friend Hyunjin set it up. Also I don’t give a shit what you think, at least he’s not an ex-con.’

Jungkook looks hurt. ‘I’m not an ex-con either,’ he points out.

Which reminds you of your arrangement.

‘We can’t both go on dates tonight,’ you say. ‘I’ll cancel.’

‘What, so you can blame me for being single forever? No way. I’ll take care of it. Where’s your date?’

Jungkook pulls his phone out of the pocket of his almost jeans.

You tell him the name of the restaurant.

‘I’ll have my date there too,’ Jungkook decides. He flashes you a smarmy grin that makes you throw your last cushion at him.

He’s already heading out the door. ‘Pick you up later and we can go together,’ he says.

Your door closes behind him, then opens again almost immediately.

‘By the way,’ he says, holding up a pair of your silk panties. ‘I’m borrowing these.’

You fumble for something else to throw at him but he’s already closed the door again.

His infuriating laughter echoes in your ears long after he’s gone.

***

Jungkook’s taunts sound in your head as you get ready for your date.

You gaze in the mirror at your reflection critically.

Is your dress too short? Are your shoulders weird looking? And what the hell is happening with your hair?

You remind yourself that you can’t go another year of being single at your family’s annual get-together. You can already hear your Auntie Rina’s probing questions, your cousin Binna’s smug comments, your brother Jin’s increasingly acidic barbs to anyone who tries to criticise you.

Besides, it’d be nice to meet someone who’d care if you were sick or who’d come over to chase away a spider if it took up residence in your bathtub.

You purse your lips for a coat of lip tint and put the wand back just in time before the familiar, side-of-fist banging on your door starts.

At least he’s consistent, you think ruefully to yourself as you yell, ‘Coming, keep all your clothes on!’

You pull on your coat and belt it snugly as you slip your shoes on.

You nearly get Jeon Jungkook’s fist in your face as you yank open the door.

You duck at the same time he startles and says ‘Shit, sorry!’

‘It’s fine,’ you say, hoisting your bag on your shoulder.

You turn to go and realise he’s still standing by your door, staring at you.

You’re conscious of your heels and bare legs and that you’re wearing more makeup than usual.

‘Spare me whatever is about to come out of your mouth,’ you say, spiky.

You’re honestly one rude comment away from going back into your apartment and your cosy couch. You still haven’t caught up on your drama.

You head for the lifts without looking to see if he’s following.

***

Jungkook holds the door open for you at the restaurant your blind date picked.

‘Do you have a reservation?’ asks the hostess.

You give her your date’s name and she beams at you. ‘Right over here, follow me.’

She leads you to a table where a man is already sitting waiting.

He stands as you approach, and holds his hand out. ‘Jang Junwoo,’ he says.

You introduce yourself and notice he’s looking awkwardly over your shoulder.

You realise Jungkook’s still standing behind you.

‘Can I get you something, Jungkook?’ you ask, teeth gritted.

‘Nope,’ he says, cheerfully. ‘I’m just waiting for you to move so I can take my seat.’

You realise with horror that he’s indicating the table right next to yours in this cosy restaurant.

‘You’ve got to be kidding me,’ you say.

Jungkook winks at you. ‘I hear the steak’s good.’

***

Jang Junwoo is kind of pretentious, you think, but then again a lot of these finance bros are. He spent a minute more than necessary pontificating over the wine’s bouquet, but he’s been polite enough to the waitress, and he has asked you a few questions about yourself.

Looks wise, he’s kind of your type, you think. He’s clean cut, tall and with a lean physique set off by his well-fitted shirt. He’s not got any visible tattoos or piercings, which is fine with you.

You’re not into that at all.

Beside you, Jungkook’s date, a petite bottle blonde in a low-cut dress with the best natural-looking cleavage you’ve seen laughs at one of his jokes.

She’s been laughing a lot, which is funny, because Jungkook’s really not that funny at all.

You realise Junwoo’s asked you a question.

‘I’m sorry,’ you apologise. ‘I missed what you said.’

‘He asked if you like to work out,’ Jungkook supplies helpfully from beside you, barely two feet away.

He leans forward, and in a stage whisper, tells Junwoo, ‘I’ve never seen her in our gym.’

‘Stop eavesdropping on my date,’ you hiss.

Jungkook continues, ‘But she looks good in athleisure.’

He smiles like he’s just helped you, and you turn pointedly away.

‘I’m sorry,’ you apologise again to Junwoo. ‘I’m his court appointed guardian. It was this arrangement or prison, wasn’t it, Jungkook?’

Instead of looking put off, Jungkook’s date looks even more intrigued.

Junwoo, bemused, says, ‘Don’t worry about it. Should we get dessert?’

You split up with Jungkook after dinner when Junwoo suggests a nightcap at a bar nearby.

Jungkook assures you he’ll go straight home.

Looking at the way he and his date are draped over each other, you don’t doubt it. Thankfully, your apartment building was built pre-war and the walls are decent quality.

Junwoo ushers you into the bar, and, alone together with him for the first time all night, you feel your self-consciousness return.

You catch him looking at your thigh where your skirt’s ridden up and when he sees you’ve noticed, he smiles smoothly like it’s no big deal.

He orders another bottle of wine and you let him drink most of it because your tolerance is low.

His tendency towards pretentiousness is more pronounced when he’s tipsy, and it’s when he’s telling you about how you should try to experience genuine Lyonnaise cuisine that you decide you’ve had enough for now.

‘I should go,’ you say, smiling at him. ‘Thank you for a lovely evening.’

‘I’ll escort you home,’ he says. ‘It’s late.’

He pulls on his coat and offers his arm, and you take it because you’re three blocks away from home and you can walk it in under ten minutes.

When you reach your door, you turn and hold out your hand.

‘Thanks again, Junwoo, it was really kind of you to walk me home.’

He takes your hand and shakes, but doesn’t let go.

‘Aren’t you going to invite me in?’ he asks.

‘Not tonight,’ you say firmly, trying to pull your hand away.

‘I paid for dinner, and drinks,’ he points out, like that’s going to convince you.

‘You insisted,’ you counter. ‘Anyway, good night.’

He’s about to say something else but you don’t hear it because the lift dings and the doors slide open, and Jungkook steps out.

His shirt is half undone, and there’s a big-ass hickey on his neck, but you’ve never been so glad to see him.

‘Ah Jungkook,’ you say. ‘Did you have a good night?’

Jungkook pauses in front of you and Junwoo, eyeing the way your hands are still entwined.

‘Yeah, I did. How about you?’ he asks.

‘We’re doing great, bro,’ Junwoo says.

‘Yeah?’ Jungkook asks, eyes on you.

You swallow your pride. ‘Not great, JK.’

‘Yeah,’ Jungkook agrees. He makes eye contact with Junwoo. ‘You should get going, bro.’

Junwoo’s hand tightens around yours. ‘Yeah, bro?’

Jungkook shrugs. ‘You know why she’s my court appointed guardian? I’m not going back to Cheonan.’

At the mention of the notorious maximum security prison, Junwoo’s eyebrows rise.

He squeezes your hand again, hard, then lets you go.

Jungkook stares at him the whole way as he leaves.

As soon as the lift doors close behind Junwoo, you sigh and slump against your door.

‘Thanks, Jungkook.’

‘No worries,’ Jungkook says. He runs a hand through his dishevelled hair. ‘Guess my date went better than yours, huh?’

‘I shouldn’t have let that asshole pay. I knew he’d take it as an invitation,’ you say, ruefully.

Jungkook looks at you. ‘Is that what he said? What an asshole. Jangmi told me not to expect anything.’

You look pointedly at the hickey on his neck, and he laughs but doesn’t say anything else.

You fish your keys out of your bag. ‘Anyway, thanks. Your timing was pretty good.’

‘Yeah I waited in the car outside for you and saw you guys arrive,’ Jungkook says.

You stare at him. ‘What?’

‘Wanted to make sure you got home ok,’ Jungkook says, yawning.

He’s already heading to his own apartment.

‘Hey,’ you call. ‘I didn’t know you were in Cheonan.’

Jungkook laughs. ‘Youth detention centre, not the prison. Spent four months there when I was 14.’

He’s reached his own door.

‘Good night, Y/N. You looked really pretty tonight.’

He smiles at you crookedly and goes inside.

***

Six months earlier

You have no idea why you’ve been summoned to Jeon Mido’s office, and waiting outside in her secretary’s workspace isn’t helping your nerves.

You’ve been working for Albion for two years, and in that time you’ve never met her.

Why would you?

She’s one of the founding partners of Albion, the biggest law firm in the city, and you’re a relative newbie hired straight out of law school two years ago.

You’ve never had cause to venture beyond the tenth floor of this Albion-owned building, and now you’re in the penthouse.

The doors open, and Jeon Mido steps out.

‘Ms L/N,’ she says. ‘Please, come in.’

You take a seat in front of her sleek modern desk and wait.

‘Park Sejun tells me you worked extremely hard on your last case,’ she says, gazing at you. There’s a shrewdness in her eyes that reminds you that she built this law firm from nothing, despite her soft demeanour.

‘Thank you,’ you say.

‘You did an excellent job.’

You thank her again, wondering where she’s going with this. Is she about to dismiss you? Surely Park Sejun could have done that for her.

You haven’t done anything to warrant a promotion.

‘I’m sure you’re wondering why you’re here,’ Jeon Mido says.

She sets her hands on her desk gracefully.

‘I heard what you said about the defendant on your last case. He has a record, he’s been in and out of trouble since he was a teenager. Our client was the plaintiff and you did enough to ensure the win but you didn’t go for the jugular like some of your colleagues would have.’

You get a sinking feeling. Is this why you’re being fired? Because you didn’t completely annihilate your opponent?

She seems to be waiting for a response, so you compose your thoughts.

‘I knew we had enough to win,’ you say carefully. ‘I didn’t want to waste my efforts completely destroying the defendant’s credibility when his only mistake was that he relied on his staff instead of verifying things for himself.’

‘That’s not what you said, though,’ she prompts.

You think frantically but can’t remember anything you said that would have stood out, particularly.

You sigh. If you’re going to get fired, you might as well come clean.

‘My brother Jin got in trouble when we were teenagers,’ you say. ‘He got mixed up with a gang and he was too naive to get out before the gang leader got busted.’

You’ll spare her the details. ‘Anyway, he’s got a criminal record now, and because of it he can’t get a ‘respectable’ job. He couldn’t be a lawyer like me and he’d be a hell of a lot better, if I’m being honest.’

You shrug. ‘He made a mistake but he’s still the best person I know. I guess the defendant reminded me of him.’

Jeon Mido’s looking closely at you, but hasn’t said anything.

‘Thank you for hiring me,’ you say. ‘If you want my resignation —-‘

‘You’re mistaken,’ Jeon Mido says, finally. ‘I don’t want to dismiss you. I wanted to ask for your help.’

Which was how you ended up in a coffee shop with Jeon Mido, waiting nervously to meet her son.

Jeon Jungkook.

She’d filled you in on the details. He was her younger son, and he’d been in and out of trouble with the law since his teenage years for various things. Fighting, stealing cars, and even, hilariously, once for posing as a valet at a high society event and parking all the cars at the foot of Mount Samo for the illegal drag racers to take their pick.

After his most recent infraction she and her husband had sat down with Jungkook and given him an ultimatum to clean up his act or be cut off from his family’s fortune.

You were to be an additional factor to tip the scales in his favour.

Her proposition that you be Jungkook’s unofficial guardian and try to keep him out of trouble had sounded ludicrous at first, you were barely responsible enough to look after yourself. You certainly weren’t responsible enough to become a glorified babysitter to a grown man with a history of getting his own way.

The only reason you hadn’t disagreed to this insane-sounding plan outright was that Jeon Mido had built the very building you worked in, from the ground up, off her own intelligence, strength and force of will, at a time when successful self-made women in South Korea were virtually unheard of.

Additionally, Jungkook had agreed to meet you so he must be somewhat willing to comply with his parents’ ultimatum.

You’d been expecting a degree of charm and good looks in her son, Jeon Mido was an attractive woman, but you still had to stop yourself from staring when Jeon Jungkook arrived.

Tall, broad-shouldered and built like an athlete, he’d smiled at you and offered his hand, and you’d shook it praying your own weren’t clammy with nervousness.

He was so good looking he made you want to throw up.

If this was what a life of crime made Jeon Jungkook look like, it certainly suited him.

He flicked his tongue out over his lip ring, dark eyes on you, and you wondered what that tongue would feel like on your skin.

Fuck.

You were fucked from the moment you saw him, and it was only much later that you realised how bad the damage was.

It’d started off innocently enough. He’d moved into the apartment next to yours.

You’d hung out together a bit to get to know each other, and that first week had been fine.

Then he’d said, casually, one evening, that he was popping out for a cigarette, and he’d be back in fifteen minutes.

It was three frantic days before you found him, in some seedy pool hall, drunk and blazed with a new tattoo and the keys to a Maserati he didn’t own in his front jeans pocket.

He’d made you fish the keys out yourself, and he’d giggled like a schoolgirl the entire time.

After that, you’d been more insistent about sticking to the stipulations his parents had laid out, and had accompanied him everytime he left the apartment after dark.

You’d realised what a mistake that was when he offered to buy you brunch and paid all in unmarked bills out of a duffel bag filled with stacks of cash.

Jeon Jungkook didn’t confine his criminal activity to night times.

Fuck that shit.

Then there was that time he’d offered to pick you up from work in a new car you’d assumed was his parents’. The penny had only dropped when the police sirens had sounded behind you and you’d asked, nervously, if he should pull over.

Jungkook had taken one look in the rearview mirror, and said, dismissively, ‘It’s only one patrol car. I can lose them, easily.’

He’d proceeded to do just that in a high-speed car chase in a stolen car that spanned the busiest road in the city.

It’s the first and only time you’ve been on the seven o’clock news.

On the plus, you’d found out that he really was as good a driver as he’d claimed.

You’d gone to see Jeon Mido in her office as soon as your legs stopped feeling like jelly, ready to apologise and say you weren’t able to do the job you’d agreed to do.

To your surprise, she’d just encouraged you to carry on.

For his part, Jungkook’s always treated you with an irreverent kind of tolerance. He’s annoying as hell and you’ve learned not to trust most of what he says, but for all his sexual innuendo around you, he’s never once crossed the line you’d drawn in the sand at the beginning.

He’s danced along it a few times, though.

By the time you’re six months into your year-long arrangement, you’ve reached an uneasy stalemate with Jungkook.

Sometimes, you almost like the guy.

Annoyingly, he’s also stayed as hot as the day you met him.

***

Present day

You haven’t seen Jungkook in a few days, so you text him to check on him.

You’re already trying to remember how to get to the strip club you found him in the last time he went missing when he texts back.

Jungkook: I’m dying

He’s fucked with you enough times that you’re not all that concerned yet.

Y/N: Yeah? How?

Jungkook: The plague

You consider this as you plate your lunch. You lift a forkful of greens to your lips, then hesitate, and sigh.

Five minutes later you’re knocking at his door.

He answers so quickly you wonder if he was waiting on the other side of it.

He does look like hell, to be fair.

His nose and eyes are red, and he looks pale under his golden tan. He’s wrapped up in a duvet from chin to feet.

‘I’m dying,’ he tells you, melodramatic as fuck.

‘Do you have a cold.’

‘It’s way worse than a cold,’ he insists.

You shake your head, but he does look worse than you’ve ever seen him.

You sigh. ‘When did you last eat?’

Jungkook’s already looking at you so hopefully you haven’t the heart to say anything as you turn back around and let him into your apartment.

‘Try not to infect me,’ you tell him, as you lay a place setting in front of him at your kitchen island.

Jungkook replies, ‘I got my regular tests done last week, all negative.’

You look at him in disgust. ‘With your cold, asshole.’

He leers at you, but it lacks his usual panache.

You serve out the food and sit down opposite him to eat.

‘I always use condoms, anyway,’ he says, after a moment. He winks at you, but it’s still half-hearted.

You pass him a glass of water.

‘Drop the sex pest act for a few minutes,’ you advise him, helpfully. ‘No one’s fucking anyone in the state you’re in, anyway.’

He looks at you, and you can almost see him clicking through the repertoire of innuendoes he has in his head.

Finally, he says, ‘Thanks for this. It’s delicious.’

You tilt your head, pretending to be confused.

‘Did you just say something without sexual connotations, Jeon Jungkook?’

His smile is crooked.

‘Don’t worry, I’m still thinking sexual things about you in my head,’ he assures you.

You laugh. ‘Shut up and eat.’

***

Jungkook starts to look a bit less like death warmed over after he’s eaten, but the clingy asshole’s parked himself on your sofa and shows no sign of moving.

You shrug and put on the TV. At least if he’s with you, there’s less chance of him being in that strip club where there’s no parking outside. What a ballache that had been.

You put on the latest episode of your drama and he perks up.

‘I haven’t seen this episode yet,’ he tells you.

His duvet’s slipped lower, and you’ve yet to see anything but his skin.

‘Please tell me you’re dressed under there,’ you say, warningly.

‘Yeah but I can take it all off,’ Jungkook offers.

You don’t dignify that with a response, just pass him some flu meds and a bottle of kombucha and settle in to watch the show.

After the episode ends he still shows no sign of moving, so you put on a movie and pass him some snacks.

By the time the movie ends it’s dark, and when he asks you what you want for dinner you let him order takeout for both of you.

You eat sitting alongside each other on the couch as the next movie plays.

After a while you realise he’s fallen asleep, and that this is the most male company you’ve had in a while, and that you don’t hate it.

You don’t hate him.

In fact, in the dim light from the TV and with his mouth closed and his hair rumpled over his relaxed sleeping face, he looks…..

Tempting.

Like the boyfriend you could have if you could ever get over yourself enough to date someone seriously.

For some reason that makes you feel a little sad.

That you’re so starved for male company you’re longing after your neighbour who’s only hanging out with you because you’ve made an arrangement with his parents.

If you’re being honest with yourself, he’d probably have never shown an interest in you otherwise.

You pull the duvet over his shoulder, switch off the TV and top up his water and meds before heading to bed.

***

The banging on your door startles you and your elbow jostles the glass on the edge of your kitchen counter. It drops to the floor and shatters, and you think dryly that it’s a metaphor for how close you are to the edge of killing Jeon fucking Jungkook.

You yank open the door with a scowl.

‘Yes, Jeon Jungkook?’

He looks a little edgy himself. ‘I want to show you something.’

‘Is it your dick?’ you ask, tiredly, letting him in.

‘Always, but it’s something different today.’

You glance at the clock. It’s six in the evening.

‘Watch out,’ you say, as he passes the kitchen. ‘I dropped a glass.’

He doesn’t even blink.

There’s a nervous energy about him today, he looks like he’s buzzing out of his skin.

You follow him warily to the window that overlooks the street behind your building.

‘Are we looking out for the police?’ you ask, in a dramatic whisper.

He gives you a half-smile. ‘There were two plainclothes cops staking out the place all of last week. I think they’re dealing out of apartment 4B.’

You stare at him. ‘Are you serious?’

He scoffs. ‘How do you not notice these things?’

‘I never really have to worry about the police coming for me,’ you say, straightfaced.

‘Sucks to be you,’ he says, without his usual conviction.

He reaches down towards his jeans and your scowl returns. ‘Jungkook, I really don’t want to see your dick.’

‘Stop lying,’ he says, but what he takes out is a small black rectangular plastic object.

It’s about the size of half of his outstretched palm.

You wonder where he’s going with this.

He says, ‘Look.’

You both watch as a man in a business suit pulls up to a parking spot on the street, gets out and locks his car. The headlights flash, twice.

He heads into the apartment building opposite yours.

As soon as he’s out of sight, Jungkook hands you the tiny black rectangle.

‘Press the button.’

You press the small grey button, and to your surprise, the car headlights flash again.

The car’s unlocked.

‘What the—-‘

‘It’s a car key cloning device,’ Jungkook says.

He takes it back from you.

‘All I have to do is press it at the same time as the person locking the car presses their own key, and it clones the signal.’

He says, with more than a hint of wistfulness, ‘I could steal any car on this street.’

You’re shaking your head. ‘Where did you get this?’

‘I made it,’ he tells you. ‘I didn’t invent the tech, my friend did, but I made this.’

His eyes meet yours.

‘Can you keep it?’

His words hang in the air between you.

He mistakes your silence for hesitance.

‘I just — ‘

He clears his throat and starts again. There’s pleading in his voice, a wild kind of spark in his eyes.

‘Can you keep it? I don’t want it to be this easy to steal a car tonight.’

You swallow past the lump in your throat. He’s never asked for your help like this before.

He usually goes ahead with whatever impulse he has and you’re stuck playing catch up.

Today, he’s given you a head start.

You take the device from him and stick it in your bra.

‘Don’t try to seduce me to get it back,’ you warn.

He’s already eyeing up your tits.

He clears his throat again.

‘Actually, I’m surprised you managed to fit it in there. Are you on your period? Your tits look huge.’

As usual, you don’t deign to respond.

‘I was going to make dinner,’ you say. ‘Do you want some?’

‘You can cook me dinner,’ he agrees, like he’s doing you a favour.

‘But wait. Let me clean up that glass first,’ he says.

‘It’s fine,’ you say.

He stops you. ‘Nah. Look at your hands.’

You hold a hand out, palm up, and he traces a callused finger along your life line.

Warmth unfurls along your skin, following the path of his finger.

You look up to see him looking at you, heat in his eyes.

Your heart pounds, slow, and his tongue flicks along his lower lip.

When he speaks, his voice has dropped, low.

‘You’ve probably never even changed the oil in your car,’ he says, but he sounds affectionate, almost.

‘I wouldn’t want you to cut yourself.’

He smiles, and lets go of your hand.

Your skin feels like it’s crackling with electricity from his touch, and god help you, you want more.

You don’t trust yourself to speak.

Jungkook says, very quietly, ‘You’re doing something for me, let me do this for you.’

Your eyes meet again, and you find your voice.

‘The oven needs a clean, too, if you’re offering.’

He laughs, and just like that, whatever that moment was, ends.

‘I’ll clean your oven,’ he says, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. ‘Put a bun in it too.’

‘You’re disgusting,’ you complain, trying to punch him, but he’s already too far away.

***

You’re balancing on the back of the couch on your tip toes, trying to reach the lamp shade so you can change the blown lightbulb in your hanging lights, when the now familiar banging starts on your door.

You turn too quickly, lose your balance and fall headlong onto the floor.

The resulting crash against the parquet flooring is all the louder because Jungkook’s stopped banging on your door.

You roll onto your back, groaning a little as the wrist you held out to protect your face flares with pain.

Jungkook’s started banging again, and your phone, out of reach on the coffee table, starts ringing.

You can just about make out his name on the screen, and the ridiculous selfie he took of himself shirtless that he put in as his profile on your phone.

All the racket is enough to make you sit up and hobble to the door.

‘Shit, are you ok? I heard a crash,’ says Jungkook, wide-eyed.

‘I’m not good with blood,’ he warns, but he’s checking you over gently anyway.

‘What was so urgent you needed to bang on my door?’ you ask, grumpy.

He presses your sore wrist, gently, and you wince.

‘I got pizza and wanted to know if you wanted some,’ he says. He ushers you to your couch.

‘I’m getting ice,’ he calls over his shoulder.

‘You could have texted to ask if I wanted pizza,’ you call after him.

He emerges with a bag of frozen peas you didn’t know you had.

‘But then I wouldn’t get to see your face,’ he protests. ‘Also, you never answer my video calls, not since I saw you in your underwear that time.’

You don’t bother correcting him.

He wraps the peas in a towel and passes the bundle to you.

‘Your wrist looks bad, you should get it checked out,’ he advises.

You grimace. ‘I have a case coming up,’ you tell him.

‘Just tell them it was a sex injury,’ Jungkook suggests, helpfully. He offers you a hand to get up. ‘Come on, I’ll take you to the hospital to get checked out.’

‘Fine,’ you say. ‘Grab the pizza.’

***

You’re waiting to see the doctor with Jungkook and trying to ignore the fact that he’s pulled a burner phone out of his back pocket.

He glances around furtively and you’re craning your neck to look at the screen when your name is called.

The doctor who’s said your name looks at Jungkook.

‘Mr Jeon,’ she says. ‘What is it this time? Another broken metacarpal from fighting?’

Jungkook’s face creases into a smile and you can almost hear the adoring sighing of men and women around the room.

‘Dr Lim,’ he says. ‘You know I don’t break my hand anymore since I started winning all the time.’

You gag at his corniness, but Dr Lim just smiles back.

‘Well, you’re always welcome to get checked out for any injuries,’ she says. ‘You have my number.’

‘Did you save it on your burner?’ you ask loudly, but they both ignore you.

By the time you’ve had an X-ray and been told your wrist is just sprained, not broken, you’ve heard enough of Jungkook’s smarmy flirting that your ears are burning.

‘Yeah, I’m still going to the gym every day,’ you mimic, flexing your bicep as you get into Jungkook’s car. ‘Want to feel?’

Jungkook rolls his eyes. ‘I don’t talk like that.’

You give him your sleaziest grin. ‘Wow you have your name embroidered on your white coat? Amazing!’

Jungkook starts the car. ‘Still don’t talk like that,’ he mutters.

‘Yeah, let me take you for a spin in my Skyline sometime,’ you say, puffing out your chest and deepening your voice.

‘Seatbelt,’ Jungkook says.

When you reach for the seatbelt and wince because you forgot about your wrist, he sighs.

You press back into the seat, startled, as he leans over you to fasten your seatbelt for you.

He pauses with his face directly in front of yours.

He’s so close you can feel his breath on your cheek.

He leans forward and kisses you.

It’s a peck, and over before you know it, but it’s enough to shut you up.

‘Stop being cute,’ he says. ‘Or I’ll kiss you again.’

He throws the car into gear.

‘Besides,’ he adds. ‘The only woman I’ve tried to impress with this car is you.’

You’re staring at him, still trying to process, when he adds, thoughtfully, ‘then again, I haven’t had this car very long….’

***

You’re trying to get your suitcase down from on top of your wardrobe when there’s a blur of movement in the periphery of your vision.

You scream and hightail it off the ladder you’re on.

The spider you saw stops right above the corner of the ceiling where your suitcase is.

You’ve already dialled Jungkook without even thinking about it.

He answers with a lazy, drawled, ‘yo’, but his tone sharpens quickly when he hears your voice and panicked breathing.

‘Jungkook. There’s a spider holding my suitcase hostage,’ you whisper, dread in your voice.

‘Why are you whispering?’ Jungkook asks. You can hear the amusement in his voice, and for once you don’t care that he’s laughing at you.

You fight to regulate your volume. ‘It might hear me and attack,’ you say.

It seems completely reasonable to you.

Jungkook laughs so loudly you have to hold the phone away from your ear.

‘What does he want with your suitcase?’ Jungkook asks, when he’s re-composed himself enough to speak.

He’s definitely laughing at you rather than with you, but you’ll take any amount of taunting if he deals with the spider for you.

‘Please,’ you plead, ‘can you get rid of it.’

Jungkook yawns. ‘Ok. But don’t expect me to put on a shirt.’

A moment later he’s in your apartment, looking up at the ceiling at the spider.

‘Just grab the suitcase please,’ you say. ‘The spider can have this room from now on.’

Jungkook snorts.

He grabs the suitcase and places it next to you, then, before you can work out what he’s going to do, he taps on the wall next to the spider and it runs down to the floor.

You scream and jump into his arms.

He really did come over bare-chested, the asshole, and the sweatpants he’s barely wearing are low on his hips, so it’s a little more indecent than you’d like, but there’s no fucking way you’re sharing the floor with a spider that can run faster than you.

Automatically, like he’s done this a lot, Jungkook’s big hand reaches down to support your ass.

He’s still laughing. ‘Is this like, do you want to see my cat, but it’s a spider instead?’

You ignore his taunts and bury your face in his shoulder.

His laughter fades.

‘Shit. Are you crying? Listen, don’t worry. I’ll get rid of it, ok?’

You’re too scared to look at the floor.

‘You don’t even know where it is now,’ you sob.

‘I know exactly where that fucker is,’ Jungkook assures you.

He’s probably lying but you don’t want to check for yourself.

He deposits you onto the bed and tries to peel your legs off his waist.

‘As much as I want to fuck you, let me deal with this spider first, ok?’

At his words, you loosen your legs from around him and he pats your thigh.

‘Stop crying. Stay here and I’ll get rid of it,’ he promises.

It’s several long minutes and muttered curses later before he returns, a little sweaty but with a glass of water for you.

He hands it to you and brushes your hair back from your face as you drink.

‘I didn’t know you were that scared of spiders,’ he says. His tone is gentler than you’ve ever heard it.

‘They bite,’ you say.

‘They bite—-‘ Jungkook trails off, shaking his head.

Jungkook sits next to you on the bed. ‘I’m sorry I laughed at you.’

‘It’s ok,’ you say. You swipe at your tearstained face. ‘Did you get it?’

‘Promise I did,’ Jungkook says. ‘Cross my heart. That fucker isn’t bothering you again.’

‘Where did you put him?’ you ask. ‘In the bin?’

‘Nah. Chucked him out the window,’ Jungkook says. ‘Fuck Spiderman.’

‘Fuck Spiderman,’ you echo.

‘Listen, if you have a spider problem again just call me, ok? Or you can text if you’re worried the spider’s going to hear you. I’ll take care of it.’

Jungkook grins. ‘I won’t put a shirt on either.’

He leans back onto his forearms, and the way his abs stand out make you feel pretty tingly, you’re not going to lie.

‘I don’t mind you staring,’ he tells you. ‘I know I look good.’

You roll your eyes, but he’s been so decent about helping you that you’ll let him have that.

‘What’s the suitcase for, anyway?’ he asks.

You sigh. ‘It’s my annual family get together this Saturday,’ you tell him. ‘My entire extended family go to this beach house and we have dinner together and hang out. It’s been a thing since I was a kid.’

‘Sounds nice,’ he says, but his tone is incredulous.

‘It is nice,’ you say. You smile a little. ‘My grandma cooks and my brother Jin goes fishing and I have so many little cousins now.’

You get up. ‘Of course, there’s the usual round of relatives asking ‘why aren’t you settled down and having babies?’ And my cousin Binna’s a pain, but it’s only once a year.’

‘It’s too bad Junwoo was such an ass,’ you say. ‘I was hoping if I came with a date this year that it’d take some of the pressure off.’

‘I can help,’ Jungkook says.

‘For the last time, Jungkook,’ you say, ‘we are not having a baby together.’

‘Firstly,’ Jungkook says, ‘our baby would be so good looking. But that’s not what I meant.’

He looks tentative for the first time since you met him.

‘I can go with you, if you want.’

***

Your suitcase is by the door, ready to go.

You’re waiting for Jungkook to come by so you can leave together for your family retreat.

You’re not sure what to expect, if you’re being honest. It had felt like a good idea having Jungkook come with you at the time. After all, with the amount of time you’ve spent together over the last few months, he knows recent you as well as anyone.

He’d promised on pain of death and dismemberment that he would refrain from excessive sexual innuendo in front of your elders, but that was all you’d managed to get out of him.

You’re almost afraid to look at him when he knocks on your door.

You start from his feet, in the boots he’s favoured lately, to jeans with no visible rips that you can see in the front, to his fly which is done completely up, to his belt and then a white wife-beater over which he’s layered a black shirt.

When you get to his face he’s smirking at you.

‘Spent a long time checking out my dick,’ he comments.

‘Just checking your fly was done up,’ you say, semi-truthfully.

He lifts your suitcase for you.

At your expression he says, ‘Don’t worry, you can pay me back by giving me a blow job whilst I’m driving us to the coast.’

‘Sounds dangerous,’ you reply.

‘Jagiya,’ he says, smarmy, ‘Danger is my middle name.’

‘Don’t ever call me that again,’ you threaten.

‘Princess?’ he wonders.

‘Shut up and drive, Jeon Jungkook.’

***

Jungkook’s driving is so steady that you fall asleep and wake only when he stops for petrol.

You look around, disoriented, and see him looking at you through the glass of the rear passenger window.

He opens the door. ‘Want anything from the shop?’

You yawn. ‘No thanks.’

When he gets back in the car, you say, ‘Hey, let me know what I owe you for gas.’

He snorts as he drives out of the petrol station. ‘You know my family owns the biggest manufacturing company in Busan, right?’

You shrug. ‘Money ain’t everything.’

He nods. ‘Yeah, money ain’t everything, if you’re just normal rich. I’m fuck you and all your ancestors rich.’

You say, lightly, ‘I’m never paying my share of takeout again.’

He laughs. ‘That’s what I like about you. You don’t give a shit.’

‘That’s not true,’ you protest. ‘How many people would have chased you across town to track you down when you stole that French ambassador’s diplomatic car?’

He’s quiet.

The road stretches out in front of you.

‘I’m seeing someone, you know,’ he says.

‘What?’ you scoff. ‘Who’s dating you?’

‘Not like that,’ he tells you. He glances at you in the rearview.

‘I don’t want you to have to be a crutch for me forever.’

Now it’s your turn to be quiet.

Since that time when Jungkook came over to hand over his key fob cloning device, he’s dropped various things over at your apartment for various periods of time.

A pen drive.

The keys to his Skyline.

His burner phone.

Once, a black jewelled thong, but you think he was just fucking with you that time.

You cleared a drawer in your hall table for him, and things appear and disappear.

He doesn’t always talk about it, not like that first time.

‘I’m glad you’re working on it,’ you say, sincerely.

You lean back in your seat. ‘You know you can always drop stuff off in the drawer if you need to.’

‘Oh in the drawer?’ he says, feigning surprise. ‘What about your spare room wardrobe? I left weed and maybe a couple of stacks in there.’

‘Fucking hell,’ you grumble, ‘No wonder all my linens smell like a college dorm.’

You’re both smiling.

‘Thanks for helping me out with this,’ you say. ‘I appreciate it.’

‘How come you couldn’t get one of those Yonsei dipshits to take you?’

You roll your eyes. ‘Firstly, you asshole, I went to SNU.’

Jungkook snickers.

‘Secondly, sad as it is, you’re the only man I’ve spent any time with lately.’

‘That’s what I mean,’ he says. ‘You’re hot, you put up with a lot of shit and you have an ass that won’t quit. How come you’re not dating anyone?’

You look out the window. ‘You’re right, I’m such a catch, why am I single?’

Jungkook asks, ‘Are you really bad in bed?’

You’d laugh if the turn of conversation wasn’t so depressing.

‘Yeah. I’m really bad.’

‘I wouldn’t mind if you were a pillow princess with me,’ Jungkook says. You think he means it as a compliment.

You say, just to move the conversation on, ‘Did you bring any snacks?’

‘Yeah,’ Jungkook says. He reaches into the center console and tosses you a pack of corn chips. ‘Please feed me too.’

You spend the rest of the drive placing corn chips into Jeon Jungkook’s filthy but admittedly beautiful mouth.

***

You and Jungkook are one of the first to arrive at the beach house. Your parents and Jin are already there.

You’re worried Jungkook might be nervous about meeting your parents, but he surprises you again.

Once introduced, he chats easily with your dad about cars, and you can tell from your dad’s reactions that he likes Jungkook.

Jin nudges you as you follow your parents and Jungkook into the house.

‘Binna’s going to be all over him,’ he says.

Your cousin is beautiful, sexy and could flirt with a rock.

You shrug. ‘Don’t worry, Jinnie. You’re still the prettiest around.’

Jin says, crossly, ‘I wasn’t worried about that.’

You’re both distracted by the arrival of your cousin and her children.

The minivan pulls up almost to the entrance of the beach house, and your cousin Daeun jumps out.

‘Dasom superglued her hand to Jinah’s face,’ she announces grimly.

She hands you baby Taehyun. ‘Can you watch the baby? I’m taking them to the drugstore to see if they can give us anything to get this shit off.’

‘Mama said a bad word,’ chants Dasom.

‘I’ll drive you,’ volunteers Jin.

He ushers Daeun and the girls into his car.

You look for someone to help.

‘Need a hand?’ Jungkook asks, popping up from behind you.

You huff. ‘Can you sort this car out?’

Jungkook appraises the minivan in silence for a moment.

‘Yeah,’ Jungkook replies, serious. ‘It probably won’t sell for much as it is. I’ll have to take it apart to sell it for parts.’

You glare at him. ‘I meant park it, Jungkook, not sell it on the stolen cars black market.’

Jungkook laughs incredulously. ‘Stolen cars black market? What even is that? Have you learnt nothing from the last year?’

Taehyun, in your arms, giggles along with Jungkook.

You can’t believe you’re being ridiculed simultaneously by both a baby and the grown-ass man you’re babysitting.

Jungkook’s still chuckling to himself as he maneuvres the minivan expertly into the space beside his car.

You can see him through the window, the asshole.

***

Jin hadn’t been wrong about Binna being interested in Jungkook. To be fair, even happily married Daeun had given him a second look.

Even your conservative grandmother had looked past all his visible tattoos and piercings and declared him a good boy.

You’re pretending not to notice as Binna, sitting on the other side of Jungkook at the dinner table, leans into Jungkook’s arm as she reaches for the green beans.

Your Auntie Rina fixes you with a look.

‘I’m so glad you finally found a man,’ she says. ‘We were so worried you’d be single forever.’

Beside you, Jungkook stiffens.

‘I wasn’t worried,’ says your mother from opposite Jungkook. ‘Better no man than the wrong man.’

‘It’s true,’ sniffs Auntie Rina. ‘Who was that awful boyfriend of yours who kept asking if you really wanted more helpings? As though there’s anything wrong with your weight…’

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. She isn’t saying anything she hasn’t said before, to be fair.

Jungkook, beside you, nudges his full glass of soju towards you.

‘Is your car the 2019 model outside?’ he asks your aunt. ‘I know a man who can fix it for you.’

‘Fix it?’ Auntie Rina asks.

‘Yeah. Looks like it has a flat tire,’ Jungkook says, wide-eyed, all innocence.

Your eyes meet his, and you choke back a laugh.

As soon as the conversation moves on you turn to Jungkook. ‘Does it really have a flat tire?’ you ask, under your breath.

Jungkook leans so close his lips brush your ear, making your skin prickle.

‘I’ll make sure it does,’ he promises.

After dinner, you excuse yourself to get some air and find Jungkook sitting on the steps leading down to the sand, behind the house smoking a cigarette.

You sit next to him.

‘Thank you,’ you tell him. ‘I hope this isn’t too awful.’

He just smiles, exhales.

‘I’m enjoying it,’ he says simply.

There’s a breeze blowing in from the sea, ruffling his hair.

He’s so pretty like this you’d take a picture if you weren’t worried he’d never let you hear the end of it.

Jungkook reaches out, curls a finger in a lock of your hair.

He opens his mouth like he’s going to say something, but he doesn’t get a chance to.

You lean forward, close your eyes and kiss him.

It’s short and it’s lovely.

You start to pull away, but he cups the side of your face and kisses you back.

His lips are soft, and he kisses you slow, like he wants to learn the shape of your lips with his own.

He hums, deep in his chest, as his lips meet yours.

For all the crass sexual comments he’s made to you over the last year, Jeon Jungkook’s kisses are undemanding, sweet.

When he pulls away, you’re both breathless.

His cigarette glows on the step next to him, forgotten.

‘I knew I’d like kissing you,’ he tells you.

You look down at his hand, somehow entwined with yours.

‘Are you holding my hand?’ you ask.

‘Yeah. You’re a little sweaty but I don’t mind,’ he tells you.

He laughs when you try to pull away.

‘Do you want to come to my room?’ you ask.

He hesitates.

‘I’d like to, but you know, I’m really good at fucking, are you going to be able to keep your voice down?’

‘Shut up, I’ve changed my mind,’ you say, getting up.

He tugs you back down. ‘Hey.’

He waits until you’re looking at him.

‘If you really want me there, I’d love to go to your room,’ he tells you.

For once, he sounds completely serious.

‘Yeah. Come.’

***

You’d been a bit worried it might be awkward, but true to form, Jungkook jumps into your bed and pats the covers like he’s the one inviting you into your own bed.

‘It’s my bed,’ you grumble, but he just laughs.

He kisses you again, his mouth warm over yours. He tastes like the soju he’d been drinking, and he hums when you part your lips to taste more of him.

His tongue licks into your mouth, and when you run your hands over his shoulders he slips his shirt over his head.

He stops you when your hands go to the hem of your top to do the same.

‘Can I?’ he asks.

You nod, and raise your arms to help.

‘Fuck,’ he murmurs. He’s staring at your breasts. ‘I’m going to need to cum on your tits as my last dying wish.’

‘Jeon Jungkook, shut the fuck up.’

‘Screaming my name already,’ he teases, but he starts kissing down the curve of your neck and the whine that falls from your lips is involuntary.

He hums approvingly as your arms tighten around his shoulders.

He dips his head between your breasts and then nips over the curve of your left breast.

He reaches around your back to unhook your bra, waits until you nod to undo it.

‘Pretty,’ he says, then he’s sucking a hickey into your skin, laving with his tongue when you whine in protest.

He’s hard. You can feel him even through the layers of clothing as he grinds his hips on yours.

You tuck the tips of your fingers into the waistband of his jeans and tug. He kisses you again, then pushes up onto his knees on your bed.

He unbuttons, slips his jeans down, and holy fuck, it’s not like you haven’t seen him in his boxer briefs before, but it’s a whole different ball game when he’s looking down at you, heat in his eyes and his dick so hard your mouth waters at the sight of it.

No pun intended.

Jungkook pushes your hands away when they go to your own waistband.

‘Let me do it,’ he says.

He tugs your jeans down over your ass and thighs.

‘Fuck,’ he breathes. ‘These silky panties look even better on you.’

You press a hand over his open mouth.

‘Shut up and fuck me,’ you say.

You trail your hand over the length of him in his briefs, and then he’s moving fast, fumbling with his jeans.

He pulls out a strip of condoms and catches your eye.

You giggle at how ridiculous he looks, and a moment later, he’s laughing too.

‘How many times —‘

You’re cut off by his mouth on yours.

‘Many. I’ll fuck you as many times as you want,’ he tells you, breath hot on your cheek.

He nudges your thigh with his. ‘Spread.’

He fits himself between your legs and kisses you again.

The blunt head of him nudges you, and you don’t realise you’re holding your breath until he’s in you all the way and you’re dizzy with pleasure.

He buries his head in your neck.

‘Fuck. You feel so fucking good,’ he groans.

He moves, a slow stroke that makes you arch into him.

You moan his name, and he moves again, rocking his hips against yours, deep, hard.

You close your eyes but realise what a mistake that was when you open them again and see how beautiful Jeon Jungkook looks when he’s fucking you.

He hooks a forearm around your thighs and drags you to the edge of the bed so he can stand and fuck you.

Fuck, how have you never realised how strong he is?

He smirks at you, and you’d want to slap it off his face except he’s doing something with his hips now that’s making the pleasure spiral and you’re two short steps from —-

He lowers his mouth to yours again and then you’re coming, legs wrapped around his hips, his chest flattening yours, his sweat all over you.

He murmurs what sounds like approval as he fucks you through it.

You gasp his name and he groans, fucking you harder, speeding up and then slowing until he comes, buried deep inside you.

He pulls out, yanks off the condom with a whine and ties it off, dropping it on the floor carelessly. He collapses down next to you, panting.

For a moment you’re both quiet.

Then he says, ‘Shit. That was way better than jerking off with those panties I stole.’

You slap him on the chest. ‘Shut up, asshole.’

‘Stop flirting with me. I need a minute before we can go again.’

Jungkook grins at you but he’s still got an arm around your hips and his thigh slotted between yours so you can’t be too mad.

***

You wake up to bright sunshine right in your face even though you drew the drapes last night before you went to bed because Jeon Jungkook is halfway in your open window.

You sit up, confused as hell.

‘What the fuck—‘

You can’t work out if he’s coming or going.

You get your answer then he drops into your room with a thud.

‘Sorry,’ he says. ‘Forgot to slash those tires last night.’

‘You didn’t?!’

‘Keep your voice down,’ he advises. ‘We don’t want her to know it was me.’

You’re speechless.

‘Did you seriously just —‘

‘Don’t finish your question so I don’t have to answer it,’ Jungkook tells you.

He’s getting undressed again, kicking off his shoes, staring hard at your bare chest half covered by the duvet.

He jumps back into bed with you and you greet him with another kiss.

His hand trails over the curve of your breasts.

‘Let’s not talk about it again,’ you say.

‘Yeah,’ he agrees.

‘Do you want to come on my tits?’

Jungkook groans. ‘Fuck, yeah.’

***

You’re back at home in your apartment unpacking when the familiar banging on your door starts.

You yank the door open. ‘You literally just left, Jeon Jungkook,’ you complain, before you realise he’s not alone.

Jeon Mido, Jungkook’s mother and your boss, is standing outside your door and you’ve still got sand in your hair from fucking Jungkook on the beach before you left the beach house.

Jungkook adjusts the collar of his shirt in a vain attempt to hide the hickey you gave him.

‘I’m sorry,’ you apologise. ‘I wasn’t expecting you.’

Jeon Mido smiles graciously at you.

‘Jungkook tells me he met your parents over the weekend,’ she says.

‘They liked him a lot,’ you tell her, wondering where she’s going with this.

She nods. ‘Good. I thought maybe you’d like to come to dinner with us tomorrow night. My husband would love to meet you.’

You’re so surprised you can’t do anything but accept.

Jeon Mido smiles at you and takes her leave.

You turn to Jungkook. ‘What was that?’

Jungkook shrugs, shaking sand out of his jeans pockets.

‘She’s always said she wants to meet my girlfriends.’

He’s not looking at you directly, and the tips of his ears are red.

‘What?’

‘I don’t know,’ he says, finally. ‘I’ve never had a girl I’m dating meet my parents before.’

‘We’re not dating!’

He’s looking at you now. ‘Aren’t we?’

The way he’s looking at you gives you pause.

‘We see each other every day. We hang out at each others’ places. You help me with my problems and I help you with yours. I’ve met your family.’

He smiles. ‘And you’re the most fucking amazing girl I’ve ever met.’

You stare at him.

‘Unless,’ he continues, ‘you just want to be fuck buddies. I’m down with that too.’

He looks like he’s about to turn away so you grab his arm and tug him towards you.

‘Ok, Jeon Jungkook, I’ll date you,’ you say.

He nods. ‘I thought so.’

He leans down so you can kiss the smug smirk off his face.

With thanks to bloviating-vy for introducing me to the phrase 'fuck you rich' and the works of Smashy for the immortal phrase 'Yonsei dipshits'.

#bts smut #bts fic #jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic

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dreamersparacosm · 1 month ago

Text

jeon jungkook - off the record (part three)

part three ; iced oat milk latte, no sweetener

warnings ; jungkook being a bitch, oc planning his murder once again </3

prompt ; in which you’re paired with your insufferably charming ex-academic rival turned coworker to cover a congressional scandal, and suddenly, professional boundaries becomes the only thing holding you two apart.

note ; hi, hello, bonjour, hola, ciao!!!! before we get into this whole mess, i want to start by apologizing for the hunger games reference… i fear i am rereading the series and all i can offer up is metaphors and similes having to do with katniss everdeen

anyway! we get a tiny tiny peek into a nicer jk (before he snatches that back up in his paw real fast), we meet monroe in all her political glory, and we also meet Rosalie!!!!! she is kinda maybe important (i mean, did you even look at the index… homegirl has an extra dedicated to her) so pay ATTENTION to those good ol context clues

ok that’s all i have to offer besides hugs n kisses. MWAHHH

playlist here

series masterlist here

Mondays in Washington D.C are a bloodsport.

You’re essentially Katniss Everdeen with a college degree, wielding a Macbook Air and a slightly chewed Pilot G2 instead of a bow and arrow, and tragically, there’s no Peeta tossing you bread.

You’ve accepted your role in the arena — not because you’re necessarily winning this specific Monday (though rewriting a headline three times while simultaneously ghosting two former sources does deserve some kind of medal), but because in this moment, you recognize just how good you are at your job.

This Monday, with Jenna sitting across from you in the cafeteria, a small, satisfied smile curved upon her lips and an iced green tea creating its own little puddle on the table, you feel like you’ve just shot an arrow through the Gamemakers’ roast pig.

“You,” she says, pointing at you with a manicured finger, “are single-handedly keeping CNN afloat.”

You arch a brow, leaning back into the faux leather chair, “Just me? Not the seasoned journalists or the guy in graphics who hasn’t taken a day off since the Obama years?”

“Okay, yes, but they didn’t just lock down the most exclusive interview of all time while also managing two live hits in one afternoon.” Her eyes are sparkling as she takes a sip of her watered-down concoction. “Honestly, if I were five years younger and less emotionally stable, I'd be deeply threatened by you.”

You grin, warmth flooding your chest. You’ve always admired Jenna; beyond her credentials, which includes three promotions before the age of 30, she also knows how to wield power with elegance.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It was,” she settles her drink back down on the table. “You have been on fire lately. Monroe, the security reform story, that exclusive with Whitford’s aide… I’ve gotta say, you’re giving me a run for my money.”

The cafeteria isn’t busy at this time of day. There’s a few lingering presences, some interns loitering by the salad bar while they talk about happy hour plans neither of you will be invited to.

Your 1-on-1’s with Jenna have always been incredibly informal; the two of you opt to sit in the lunchroom, discuss any updates to stories you’re chasing down, and she pretends that she needs to edit anything you write even though she trusts you more than her own husband.

“Well, Monroe kinda fell in my lap,” you shrug. “Sheer stroke of luck.”

Jenna laughs, a full-bellied one that makes you feel like maybe you can breathe a little today. Hell, maybe you’ll take that “mental health walk” you keep scheduling on your calendar but happen to neglect every time it rolls around.

“I don’t even care,” she shakes her head. “I needed something real meaty this month. If I have to greenlight another story about the president’s favorite dog breed, I will walk into the Potomac.”

“Tell me again why you keep me around?” you tease.

“You might be the only person left who doesn’t make me regret going into journalism.”

“Flattery gets you everywhere, Jenna.”

She takes the hair tie off her wrist and pretends to launch it at you, and you both fall into a fit of giggles before she sits up suddenly like she just remembered she left her curling iron on. “Oh! Before I forget, the gala’s Friday.”

You pause in your tracks. Full record scratch, pause, tape spooling, rewinding. “The what now?”

“You know, the White House Correspondents gala. Annual festival of denial. Open bar, basically prom for people who peaked at Model UN? Ringing any bells?”

It’s actually ringing so many bells you feel like you’re in church. It’s Washington’s annual act of self-congratulation. Officially, it’s the White House Correspondents’ Dinner Afterparty, but everyone calls it what it is: White House Prom. A glitzy, overfunded fever dream where senators and editors and press reps drink bourbon under chandeliers, interns get stuck holding coats, and everyone pretends they haven’t been arguing over bylines all year.

A night where policy meets pageantry and somehow always ends with someone crying in the bathroom over budget cuts.

You groan obnoxiously. “God. Is that already here? I thought we canceled it after last year’s incident.”

“You mean when a Reuters editor sang ‘WAP’ on a table? Yeah, no. Tradition lives on.”

“I swear if I have to talk to one more sweaty political aide about how much they ‘respect the hell out of my work,’ I’m going to fake an international assignment.” True story, unfortunately.

You watch behind Jenna as the interns file out of the lunchroom after playing with lettuce and gossiping for five minutes straight.

“Still at the Hay Adams?” you follow up.

“Ballroom this year,” Jenna confirms. “Bigger space.”

You nod, mostly to yourself. It’s not mandatory, but it’s expected. Like flossing. Or staying neutral on Twitter.

“Yippee,” you grit out in faux excitement. “Lucky us.”

Jenna hums, then leans in with the type of expression normally reserved for the latest staffer-on-staffer affair. Your spine automatically mirrors her posture, because this is Washington and you can never predict what’ll come out of her mouth, even if it’s just about someone's bad Botox.

“Also, I probably shouldn’t be saying this yet..” she trails off, inspecting her nail polish, then glancing around as if the interns never fled the room. “...But you’re being considered for the next internal bump.”

You blink. “Bump?” Cocaine at this hour seems like overkill.

“Promotion,” she clarifies. “Senior Correspondent.”

Your whole body locks up, brain short-circuiting for a second before kicking into high gear.

You can’t tell if this is because of the Monroe thing or the Whitford aide or the years you’ve spent out-scooping your colleagues while surviving on six hours of sleep. Probably all of the above.

Either way, your heart is breakdancing. You’re really trying to look like it isn’t.

“That’s…” you nod slowly. “Cool.”

Cool. Cool? That’s what you go with? Jesus Christ. You sound like a hungover intern.

“Would you want to interview for it?” she asks amusedly.

Would you—

Okay. No. No squealing. No weird excited noises. No blacking out. Breathe and say something coherent that conveys hunger, capability, and an IQ higher than 119.

“I’d be open to it,” you say, like a person who hasn’t already mentally rewritten her resume and picked out what she’s wearing for the panel interview.

Jenna smirks knowingly. “Nice. I’ll let higher-ups know.”

“Does… anyone else know?”

The question slips out before you can stop it. You don’t necessarily know who you’re alluding to. Maybe Emma, maybe that guy Paul who sits two rows away from you and is always blasting NPR in his AirPods.

“If you’re asking if we’re evaluating anyone else for this, the answer is I don’t know,” she crosses her arms over her chest. “But… they do need my approval to go through, and I haven’t put anyone up for review yet.”

The ‘except for you’ is silent.

She pushes back her chair, grabs her mostly waterlogged green tea, now just a cup of sadness and regret. You follow her lead, still feeling slightly shell-shocked in the best possible way.

Walking out of the worn-down cafeteria with her, shoes tapping against the tile, mind already spinning with possibilities, you feel oddly at peace.

And maybe that’s why you love Mondays in D.C so much.

Not because they’re easy or slow or remotely tolerable.

But because sometimes, they remind you of exactly who the hell you are.

And that, makes the bloodsport kind of worth it.

The chair squeaks every time you shift, which wouldn’t be a problem if it wasn’t the only sound in the room.

The White House has many rooms. Historic ones, important ones, also some where actual history is made. This is not one of those rooms. This is one of the weird, vaguely depressing interview rooms they trot out for second-tier people. You know, deputy communications directors, committee aides. That one Assistant Secretary who went viral for being hot, then immediately got canceled for a tweet he wrote in 2011 about dogs wearing pants.

An overpriced chandelier slightly swings above you, lighting the space aggressively. Your chair is wooden, tilted approximately 97 degrees like it wants you to develop scoliosis.

Still, you made it. You’re here. Not even fashionably early. Stupidly early.

You blame the adrenaline. Your meeting with Jenna earlier left you jittery, and no, it had nothing to do with the four Celsius’ you ingested. The notebook in your lap, which currently looks like it’s been through six war rooms, is overflowing with questions — some carefully workshopped with Jenna, others you came up with alone while brushing your teeth this morning.

Your leg bounces. You flip a page, then flip it back. Your eyes fight to look at the clock without looking at the clock.

This is fine. You like prep time. You thrive on prep time.

The door creaks open behind you, and your heartbeat does a weird little thump thump behind your ribs. Your body refuses to swivel in the chair in case it’s her.

Here we go. Monroe. Congresswoman. Possibly the key to that promotion Jenna has promised you on a silver platter. Maybe, if you’re really lucky, Jungkook got hit by a car and you’ll be running this interview slot on your own. Time to sit up straight, flash your professional smile, channel your inner Barbara Walters and—

“Wow. Early. Didn’t know that was your thing.”

You slump completely into your chair.

Did the car you just imagined hitting him take a wrong turn?

You don’t dare turn to look at him, instead pretending to be incredibly invested in the chicken scratch on your notepad. “Wow. Late. Makes sense that’s your thing.’

The door closes behind him, and you hear him set his bag down by the entrance. “You know she’s not supposed to be here for another five minutes, right?”

You roll your eyes so hard you give yourself a minor headache. “That’s five minutes of prep time.”

There are approximately seven billion people on this planet. This is the one you’re stuck sharing a congresswoman with.

God is testing you.

Jungkook rounds your chair, and for a moment you prepare for impact — some offhand comment, a smug smile, a challenge disguised as a compliment. Standard procedure.

But instead, something cold and plastic materializes right in front of your face.

You blink away the blurriness of the object in front of you.

It’s a coffee cup. In his hand. Inches from your nose.

“What the fuck is that?” you ask, recoiling slightly like he just tried to hand you a live animal.

He sets it down on the table in front of you with dramatic flair. “Your coffee.”

You stare at it. Then at him. Then back at it. “You don’t even know what I drink.”

He doesn’t flinch at that. “Isn’t it still that iced oat milk latte thing? No sweetener?”

Your soul briefly detaches from your body.

“How—”

“You used to order it every day before Public Policy, and then show up with it half-empty already,” He shrugs casually like that isn’t deranged information to remember. “It stuck.”

What the actual fuck is going on?

He takes a sip of his own drink — hot, probably black, the beverage of overconfident men who think bitterness builds character. “Still think you’re weird for drinking something that tastes like oat-flavored water with no sugar, but hey. To each their own.”

You’re still staring at the cup.

“Why did you bring me this?” you ask, voice flat, because this feels off-brand. He’s not… nice. He’s Jungkook. He’s that dude you just imagined getting run over by a car, and then the car backed up and ran over him again while you smiled gleefully. “Is it poisoned?”

“Yeah,” he deadpans. “I stopped at the cafe and asked for the rat poison special. It’s just a little something to take the edge off.”

You level him with a look. He grins wider, those two bunny teeth poking out beneath his top lip. Bastard. He’s so… so.. (and when you find the right words, you’ll scream them from the rooftop.)

Then he finally sinks into the chair next to you and stretches out like this is a coffee date and not a battle for professional supremacy.

“I want a fair game,” he states matter-of-factly, eyes flicking toward the empty seat Monroe will soon occupy. “Need you caffeinated for that.”

You don’t respond. You’re too busy internally malfunctioning.

Because here’s the thing: he shouldn’t know that. About the oat milk (or the existence of it in general.) The lack of sweetener. The whole personality trait of a drink you depend on like a life jacket.

He shouldn’t remember.

Yet there it is. Sitting on the table, condensation gathering.

You cross your leg over the other and force yourself to look unimpressed. “You really came in here with a performance-enhancing latte to try and make me nervous?”

He smirks. “Is it working?”

Absolutely.

“Only because I’m wondering when the side effects kick in.”

He lets out a quiet laugh, and you hate the way your stomach sort of flutters. Like it forgot whose side it was on.

You pick up the cup anyway. Take a sip. Might as well see if he remembered the extra shot of espresso—

Damn it.

It’s perfect.

It’s exactly what Jenna brings you each morning.

There’s so much more you want to say but it all shrivels up on your tongue and dies.

He nods toward the cup. “Well?” he asks. “Up to your standards?

You pause mid-sip, raise a brow. “It’s drinkable. Could use a little poison though.”

“That’s the nicest thing you ever said to me,” he smiles widely, although you and him both know that was the farthest thing from a compliment.

“Don’t get used to it.” You let the straw clack gently against the lid. “I’m sure you’ll say something idiotic in the next thirty seconds to cancel it out.”

You think he’ll fight you on it like he’s been fighting you on everything since the first time you met. But he just smirks, one side of his mouth lifting, “Probably. But you’ll still drink the coffee.”

“Mm. Haven’t decided just how disturbed I am that you remembered my order from college.”

“I’m disturbed you’re still drinking it,” he shoots back. “Sounds like it tastes like shit.”

You’re about to launch into some detailed rebuttal involving Jungkook’s questionable taste in everything from shirt choice to headline structure to coffee orders when you hear the rusty doorknob turning.

This time, however, it’s not Jungkook barreling through the entrance.

Congresswoman Monroe hovers under the threshold of the room, stepping into it cautiously. At the noise, you and Jungkook both shoot up from your chairs like students caught gossiping mid-lecture.

She’s maybe mid-40s, though her face suggests she made a very lucrative deal with time around 31. Her dark hair is pulled back into a low, sleek ponytail, wearing a navy pantsuit that probably costs more than your entire student loan debt.

She pulls off her Celine sunglasses in one fluid motion — what is it with people on the Hill wearing sunglasses indoors? — and tucks them into her bag, giving you both a long once-over. You feel quite small under her gaze, despite her being shorter than you.

“Wow,” she raises a brow, “Look at that. The youth still believes in chivalry.”

You want to extend a hand to her for her to shake, but decide against it when you calculate the distance still between you two. “It felt appropriate. It’s nice to meet you, Congresswoman. We appreciate you taking the time to talk to us.”

She snorts at that, clearly entertained, “Well, I believe it was my overachieving press rep who lured you here, not I. He seems to have a way with words to convince two of the biggest outlets to speak to me off the record.”

Ah, yes. Who could forget the ever-so-eloquent Mark? You hope he’s doing better than when you last saw him.

“It’s no problem, really,” Jungkook reassures. “I know this story is fresh, so we’ll take anything.”

Monroe seems to accept that answer, striding forward and taking her seat across from you two with ease. You and Jungkook share a quick look before sitting back down, both your notebooks flipping open almost immediately. You want to say you know exactly where to start, but considering the circumstances, nothing feels sufficient.

She crosses her legs, leans back in her chair and looks between the two of you as if pondering which one of you will be brave enough to speak first.

Clearly, it won’t be you.

“Let’s start from the beginning,” Jungkook’s fingers twirl around his pen thoughtfully, like he’s John Hancock about to sign the Declaration of Independence, “Walk us through how you and Delgado got involved in the first place.”

You resist the urge to groan out loud. Classic Jungkook; start at square one, build some cute little narrative arc, win hearts and minds while you’re over here looking like you’re the world’s most submissive little sidekick. He’s laying groundwork like this is some Netflix docuseries and he’s the charming narrator.

You have approximately twelve smoking-gun questions and a left eye that’s starting to twitch.

Before Monroe can answer, she raises a hand. “Confirming this is off the record, right?”

Both you and Jungkook shoot your hands up in defense, as to prove there’s not some top secret recorder clutched in your palms. You answer quickly, “Completely.”

She gives you a look like she doesn’t fully believe you, but she’s too tired to care. Then she shakes her head in approval, crossing her hands and placing them atop her knees like she’s preparing to read from some memoir. “Well, it started like they always do. Good intentions but terrible, terrible execution.”

You immediately start scribbling, handwriting resembling of someone who’s having a medical emergency.

She goes on, “He said he needed to review the vote count with me. Said it couldn’t wait. Silly me for thinking he meant actual numbers.”

Your brain is already fifteen steps ahead, questions lining up in your head like little soldiers. You’ve done enough research on the story to know this much is true: it was more than just one night.

“So.. you weren’t aware there were eyes in the hallway when you left his office later that night?” you cut in before Jungkook can deliver a follow-up, because no way is he getting the juicy stuff first.

Monroe snorts, “I was aware of a lot of things. Surveillance interns weren’t one of them.”

Jungkook glances up from his Moleskine. “Intern had good timing.”

“Depends on who you ask” she responds drily.

“So when did it actually start?” Jungkook shifts forward in his chair, picking up his coffee and taking a sip. “A one time incident doesn’t usually come with three months of scheduling overlaps.”

Jungkook: 2. You: 1

“It doesn’t..” Monroe pauses, half for dramatic effect and half for introspection. “But clearly you’ve had some time to look at my calendar, so why don’t you tell me when you think it started?”

“Honestly,” you begin, flipping pages in the back of your mind, trying to remember that article you read three hours ago that dictated the timeline with color-coded graphs and blurry pictures. “I think it was back in June? July?”

She doesn’t answer that, just hums thoughtfully.

“Care to clarify how far back?” Your hand betrays you, reaching for the iced coffee on the table in front of you that has boiled down to some sad mixture of water, oat milk, and espresso.

Her lips twitch. “Far enough that I should’ve known better.”

You set the coffee back down after a prolonged sip. Beside you, you feel Jungkook’s beady little eyes trained on you. “Who else knew?”

“And who else was covering it up?” Jungkook jumps in.

It becomes a full-on ping pong match. You’re not even waiting for answers before volleying the next question. There’s something about an agreement, about Mark having an inkling, talk of going public before actually getting the chance to. You’re incredibly disappointed this isn’t on the record — this is the spiciest conversation you’ve had in years on the Hill. Jungkook seems just as intrigued as you, his own notepad filling up faster than quicksand.

It’s a dual — a bloodless one, for sure, but still mildly entertaining. Your cramping hand and the part of you that wants to scream every time he throws in a follow-up that actually adds value makes things slightly more complicated, though.

Worse: he’s enjoying this. Visibly.

And, okay, you’ll admit this much — you’re enjoying it too. Just a little. In the way you enjoy debating and working with someone who’s actually worth your time. In the way your competitive little brain lights up like oh, this again? Yeah, let’s fucking go.

You ask something else — who’s to say what it’s actually about? You just had to get it out before he did — and Monroe chuckles. “You two always like this?”

She seems quite amused by the two of you.

You open your mouth to say no, because professionalism or whatever. But then Jungkook shrugs and replies, “Sometimes. We’ve gotten better.”

No, you haven’t, but right now that’s neither here nor there.

“Well, at least I know I’m in capable hands,” Monroe beams at you two, the first real sign of human emotion you’ve captured from her since she sat down.

Capable is one way to put it, that’s for sure.

He looks over at you again (you might have to get a restraining order. This is now the tenth time and you’re starting to get scared.) It’s more in a this is fun, isn’t it? way. Which, ugh. Maybe it is. You’d never admit it but the absolute thrill of chasing a story with someone who also appreciates the highs that come with this job, while still trying to one-up each other? Yeah. It scratches a very specific, very messed-up part of your brain.

Still, he doesn’t get to win.

You lean forward, diverting back to the story at hand. “Just to clarify, did he ever explicitly threaten you with exposure if you ended things?”

Monroe’s gaze sharpens. “He didn’t need to. You don’t get involved with someone like Delgado without knowing he’s always got a spare knife somewhere.”

You write that line down so fast your pen nearly flies out of your hand. Jungkook mutters under his breath, “Jesus.”

The buzz of a timer goes off, jolting you and Jungkook upright like someone just yelled “Ten-hut!” to both of you. Monroe seems satisfied with that noise, opening her bag and retrieving her sunglasses from the depths, perching them on the bridge of her nose. “Well, that’s all we’ve got time for today, I presume? I’m sure Mark will be in touch soon for follow-ups.”

In some way, you think you’ll miss her. She might be the only congresswoman on the Hill that doesn’t have some 30-inch ruler up her ass.

“Of course,” Jungkook stands up on command, outstretching his own hand for her to shake. You follow suit like a lost puppy. She shakes both of your sweaty palms before acknowledging you both silently and heading towards the door, slamming it shut behind her.

In unison, you and Jungkook slink back down in your respective chairs, still in some weird post-interview daze. You’re not even looking at him. Not even a glance. Because glancing means acknowledging, and acknowledging means reacting, and you don’t do that.

Except, okay. Maybe you glance. Briefly. It’s for intel.

Weirdly, you don’t hate the way it feels to share something with him this closely. You both got exactly what you needed — the honest truth, a story that’s so compelling Shakespeare couldn’t even spin up this kind of narrative.

You don’t dare acknowledge that thought either. You bury it deeply. Somewhere right next to the memory of him bringing you your coffee.

When it’s nighttime in Washington D.C, it’s like a different dimension opens up and swallows the Earth.

Bars are filled to the brim with overexcited interns and senators on the prowl for their next cheating scandal. Coats are tossed across barstools like forgotten souvenirs. Chalices of beer are raised in the air as if people returned from a long day at the frontlines.

There’s some kind of magic that comes with it, like anything can happen because you’re finally not at your desk.

You’ve just turned off the lamp on your desk when your phone starts buzzing with urgency. See: magical. Anyone who knows you knows better than to call on a weekday night.

The only person who doesn’t know better, would be Rosalie, your best friend from college. Even the buzzing feels distinctly like her. As in, it’s probably not life or death but it’s definitely dramatic and may or may not have some form of light alcoholism attached to it.

You glance down at your phone screen, contact photo still the same blurry selfie she took freshman year wearing a tiara and threatening to drop out because your dorm had “zero aesthetic.”

You hesitate for exactly one second. It’s late. You’re tired. Your brain still smells like that cursed interview room from earlier and your notes from Monroe are a chaotic mess of arrows, question marks, and multiple phrases in all caps.

But, then again, it’s Rosalie. And when Rosalie calls, something ridiculous always follows. Like night after day. Like impulse after Amazon Prime.

Plus, you kind of want to give into the magic.

You swipe to answer, pressing the phone to your ear and scooping your bag onto your shoulder. “You’re either drunk, shopping, or about to fake your own death again. Which is it?”

Her voice bursts through the speaker, words rushing out. “Okay, rude. First of all, I never fake anything except for, like, orgasms and excitement about family obligated dinners. Second of all, surprise bitch!”

You furrow your brows in confusion, moving towards the exit of the CNN press room. “What?”

“I'm in D.C!” She shrieks like this is some normal update and not a major plot twist.

“You—what?”

“Like right now. I’m here. I just landed. I’m with Daddy.”

The first time you met her, she also referred to her father as ‘Daddy.’ It deeply troubles you, but you’ve come to learn there is literally no other way to name the man who’s a diplomat with a literal castle in Scotland.

“You were in London this morning,” you deadpan, struggling to do the mental math on time zones and emissions and mileage. You step out into the hallway, leaning against a cold wall.

“Yes, and now I'm here, on the hunt for a martini. It’s called globalization, babe.”

You cover your face with one hand and let out a noise somewhere between a laugh and a snort. Rosalie has been your best friend-slash-financial cautionary tale-slash-roommate since freshman year at Columbia. Your first true peek into what money could look like when it wasn’t tied to survival. She grew up with private jets and trust funds and the kind of skincare routine that requires a prescription and personal esthetician.

You grew up with coffee from a deli and a FAFSA login engraved in your mind.

Somehow, your friendship works.

Maybe it was the way she made everything feel like a movie. Or the fact that she’d once threatened to sue your econ professor on your behalf because the “curve is misogynistic.”

But mostly, it was how she always made space for you.

Even if that space is currently filled with credit card debt, half-finished Master’s degrees, and a shocking amount of vintage Balenciaga.

You sigh, already smiling. “Rosalie, what the fuck are you doing here?”

“I just told you! I’m with Daddy, he had some kinda thing. International diplomacy or rich people drama, I don’t know, I tuned out. But I’m here, I miss your face, and you sound like you’re one day away from a nervous breakdown.”

She really does know you like the back of her hand.

“I literally am.”

“See? All the more reason to get drinks. I’m thinking an extra dirty martini for me, a vodka soda for you..” You can practically hear the puppy dog eyes she has on display right now.

“I could be convinced.” You readjust your bag on your shoulder, staring solemnly at the end of the hallway.

“Okay, this is me convincing you,” she pauses for dramatic effect. “I’ll pay.”

Perk #2000 of having a rich best friend.

“You got me there.” You’re now fully laughing, the sound echoing off the hallway, phone still pressed to your ear like you’re back in college, sneaking calls in between lectures to give unsolicited advice to her on her most recent love interest.

“Come onnnn, let’s be messy.” She pleads. You glance again down the ominous hallway. Your shoes are killing you today. Your brain is fried, eyes burning after hours of staring at words and headlines and formatting.

Still, none of it sounds that bad when you think of Rosalie and a really crisp vodka soda with two limes.

“Text me the place,” you’re already bracing for impact. “But if you order anything that comes with edible glitter again, I’m leaving.”

“You’re the best,” she exhales a breath as if she’s been holding it the whole time you’ve been on the phone, “Love you!”

There’s a disconnecting sound on the other end of the line, and you bring your phone down from your ear to stare at it in front of you. Nighttime in D.C always feels like this: the first lick of ice cream on a summers day, a comforting hug from a parent after months of separation, toes digging in the warm sand. Magical, and full of possibility.

The moose head is definitely judging you.

Mounted above the bar like a taxidermist’s wet dream, it stares down at you with cold, glassy eyes and antlers the size of a small aircraft. It’s wearing a sequined top hat for reasons unknown, and honestly, it’s the most stable thing in the room right now.

The bar name Rosalie texted you an hour earlier serves cocktails with unpronounceable bitters and has dim lighting that makes your outfit look ten times better than it actually is (and also doing a hell of a job at concealing your under eye bags.) The high-top table you two are perched at smells faintly of citrus zest, her YSL perfume and spilled liquor.

Even the leather booths and black matte menus screams place that is trying way too hard to stay afloat in D.C’s nightlife climate. There is a very specific brand of person who goes to these bars, and you and the moose are both trying to figure out if you fit the bill.

To your dismay, your vodka soda is alarmingly strong, which is unfortunate because you ordered it specifically as a keep-it-together drink. Sober-adjacent. Instead, it tastes like the blonde bartender at the front is going through the world’s most devastating breakup.

You’re a quarter through it and already considering whether food would be helpful or if you'll just end up eating three-dollar-sign fries you didn’t mean to order.

Across from you, Rosalie’s swirling her (extra) dirty martini, rambling on and on about her recent trip to London. Something about the fog or the rain. You watch her as she animatedly speaks, fur-trimmed coat moving with every flick of her wrist.

“Okay…” she says, one olive skewered dramatically on a stick between her fingers. “This city is like, aggressively serious. Everyone looks like they’re walking to a meeting even at 8 PM at night. What’s that about?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug, swirling your own black straw around the rim of your drink, trying to dilute the vodka, “Probably some senate fundraiser going on a block away.”

Rosalie gasps, “That is so unsexy. Vibes here are rough.”

Only Rosalie would refer to the nation’s capital as ‘unsexy.’ You respect the brutal honesty; she’s not entirely wrong. The city is overrun by middle-aged fathers and misogynistic women. If that doesn’t scream unsexy, you’re not sure what does.

“You picked the place,” you mock, rolling your eyes.

“Well, yeah, but I was going for hot, mysterious energy, not—” she gestures wildly around the room. “—whatever this is.”

You look around. There’s a man in a vest swirling around an old-fashioned and a woman arguing with headphones on while sipping from a wine glass. “Rosalie, this is the most you bar I’ve ever been to.”

She almost turns as pale as a ghost. “This can’t be my brand.”

You can’t help but laugh, sinking deeper into your chair. It could be argued this is her entire brand; picking out places that will hand you a check worth more than your electricity bill for three months.

“So,” she begins, dramatically perching her chin in her hand, “how’s your glamorous life at the White House? Any closer to marrying a diplomat’s son?”

“Unfortunately not,” you take a sip of your vodka soda and grimace. “However the other day I did make prolonged eye contact with an intern. Although he might’ve been 20, so unsure if that counts.”

She nods like that checks out. “Oof. That’s not a good sign. Are you on any dating apps?”

Her expression twists in excitement, clearly holding out for some cute politically correct love story. You don’t have the heart to tell her that the only thing you’ve shown affection to in the past few months is a bottle of sauvignon blanc.

“Nah, you know me,” You stare down at your drink as you speak quickly to avoid her piercing gaze. “Enough about that, though. I heard you were maybe, kind of, accidentally starting a wellness brand?”

Rosalie perks up a little at that, although you can tell she doesn’t necessarily appreciate the segway from your dating life to her varying business ventures. “Well, Daddy’s investors wanted me to pick a niche, which is so toxic, because I believe in trying anything once.”

“I’m sorry—what?”

Rosalie’s business ventures have ranged from ‘mildly unhinged’ to ‘legally gray.’ In the last three years alone, she’s tried to launch a gemstone-infused bottled water line (now banned in three countries), an app that was supposed to match influencers with “friends” for Coachella, and a cashmere dog sweater subscription box that somehow lost her family $12,000 despite only having five customers — three of which were her own dogs.

It’s safe to say her being enrolled in graduate school was the unrivaled alternative.

She once asked you to invest in one of her projects. You bestowed upon her $5 and a random penny that had two heads on it.

“I’m a woman of many multitudes,” she explains with alarming speed. “You can’t put me in a box. One week I’m into adaptogens, the next I want to sell lingerie to housewives. You know how I get.”

“Rosalie,” you let out a noise resembling a snort. “This is all deeply unserious.”

“Exactly.” She plucks an olive off the wooden toothpick, popping it in her mouth. “But it’s fine. Daddy said if I stop spending money, he’ll really consider funding my wellness brand. So right now I need to chill the fuck out and realign my values.”

You don’t think she really understands what it means to realign her values.

“So… you’re basically unemployed.”

She gasps, slapping a hand over her heart. “How dare you use that word.”

You grin into your drink. It’s so easy to fall back into a rhythm with her. Even if she lives in a totally different universe. Even if she has never once felt the need to check her bank account before ordering a $22 cocktail.

Her lips press against the rim of her glass before she places it back down hesitantly. “You know, you really should get back out there.”

You should've known better than to assume this topic of conversation was done.

Out of the corner of your eye, you make eye contact with the moose. His (and you’ve decided it’s a male, bedazzled hat and all) eyes swallow you whole.

You tilt your head back towards the high ceilings to avoid catching Rosalie’s or the moose's eyes. “I’m perfectly fine in here.”

She doesn’t acknowledge your pun. “When’s the last time you’ve even had sex, you little virgin?”

Ha ha.

You actually laugh out loud. Which is probably not the response she was hoping for but — be serious.

When was the last time you had sex? Does emotional disassociation count?

Because if you’re going by strict technicalities, it was that one-night stand a few months ago when Emma dragged you out, told you to just “pick a guy,” and you went with the first one who made a semi-decent joke and could name one recent foreign policy.

It was… fine. Forgettable in the way dry toast is.

You’re pretty sure he called you babe halfway through and you pretended not to hear it because you were already nauseous from the amount of vodka sodas you consumed that night.

“Sex is a social construct used to avoid real human connection.”

You smile indignantly at your best friend, crossing your arms over your chest. There’s satisfaction rippling through your body. Try arguing with that one, Rosa—

“How long are you going to avoid real human connection before you end up all alone, surrounded by ten cats and all my wellness supplements?”

Okay, rude. A wake-up call at this hour isn’t really necessary. She sounds much too invested in this for your liking.

Statistically speaking, you are on track to die with your phone in one hand and a highlighter in the other. But also? You kind of don’t care.

You're good at exactly two things in this life: 1) your job and 2) being right, neither of which you plan on giving up any time soon. You’re not about to emotionally babysit a man who wears loafers without socks or tells you he’s “big on communication” but flinches when you ask what his ex’s name is.

Relationships are cute for people like Rosalie, who have time to dabble in them. You are booked out for the foreseeable future.

“You know I don’t care about that stuff.” You decide that’s an appropriate response to her worrying. “I just.. value my alone time. And you’ve seen how hard I work. I don’t have time to date.”

“What about your coworkers?” she muses casually. “Surely one of them, with the same work ethic as you, is a good option.”

You nearly choke on your drink so violently that the moose head looks concerned.

“What?” Rosalie blinks at you with full sincerity. “I’m just saying—it seems efficient. You could like, hold hands while rage-writing about the president.”

You stare at her blankly. “I’d rather go on a silent meditation retreat with Mitch McConnell.”

“You’re being dramatic. Walk me through the options,” She sits up straighter, voice rising at the end of her sentence.

“Okay…” you exhale, already regretting everything. “There’s Andrew, but he clips his nails at his desk and I can’t unhear it. It’s like ASMR for serial killers.”

She grimaces, tapping her polished nail against her glass. “Ew.”

“There’s Gavin, who’s technically married but also keeps asking if I’ve ever been to Greece in spring, so that feels like a no.”

Now that you’re running through the roster out loud, it’s pretty devastating.

“Paul.”

You say the name with hope attached to it, and Rosalie leans forward in anticipation, like she’s already envisioning her maid of honor dress and your pastel wedding invitations. “But.. he calls Slack ‘the Slack’ and that gave me the ick. Plus, he also listens to NPR, so that’s another minus.”

Rosalie groans and sets her forehead down on the table like this is your fault. “God, your workplace is bleak. What’s the point of being employed if you can’t seduce someone with a respectable title?”

“Believe it or not, I do actually work so I can get paid.” You take a sip of your drink, which has simmered down to a pool of vodka and watered-down soda.

She lifts her head from the table, “Not one hot little office romance? A private kiss in an elevator? Anything to feel alive?”

She’s really overestimating the Hill’s penchant for romance.

You give her a long look. “I write about current events. That is my version of a hot little office romance.”

She snorts, then tilts her head at you knowingly. Uh-oh. You know that look. It’s the look she gave you in college before she asked if she could set you up with her cousin, the 7th Earl of Douglas. “Wait.. do you still work with that guy?”

Your stomach drops. Like an elevator going down one floor too fast. “What guy?”

You’re playing dumb, which is not usually your move. But you are. Aggressively and visibly.

Rosalie shrugs like it’s no big deal. “You know, that guy from college. What was his name.. Jungkook?”

Damn her. You really need to stop telling her your work stories. Not that it matters anyway. She’s known him the same unfortunate amount of time you have.

You shift slightly in your seat. It’s a tiny readjustment but you’re fidgeting, leg crossing the other way, hand playing with your straw like it’s suddenly fascinating.

You absolutely do not glance at the moose for help.

“Yeah,” you say. “I do.”

Rosalie arches a brow. “He’s still as hot as he was back then. I saw his post on Instagram last week. Those cheekbones still working overtime, eh?”

You force a laugh, struggling to banish any and all flashes of his cheekbones that are currently flitting through your mind like pages of a scrapbook. They are oddly nice. But knowing him, he probably gets cheek filler or something. “I guess. If you’re into that whole overly symmetrical thing.”

“Who isn’t into it?” She picks up her martini glass, taking a massive gulp.

You can’t respond. You’re too busy hyper-focusing on your vodka soda and trying not to remember a very specific Friday night freshman year. One where you walked into some random room at the Pi Kappa Alpha fraternity house with jungle juice in one hand, only to—

Nope. Not going down that road.

Following in her footsteps, you take a big sip of your drink. Rosalie doesn’t notice the way your leg is slightly bouncing under the table. Or if she does, she’s sparing you the embarrassment. “I always thought he’d go into modeling or something,” she tosses her jet-black hair over her shoulder. “Didn’t peg him as someone who would go into politics.”

“Yeah, well,” you mutter, “even the devil wants press credentials.”

“Bet he still looks good in a suit though.”

Now it’s your turn to drop your head onto the tabletop.

Sure, maybe there are people out there with actual problems. Real ones. People who’ve lost their homes, who don’t know where their next meal will come from, who aren’t currently sipping overpriced vodka sodas while side-eyeing a moose in a hat. Compared to them, this whole moment is an insult.

And yet, in this precise, horrifying pocket of time, you genuinely can’t imagine a worse fate than Rosalie fawning over Jungkook like he’s a misunderstood bad boy.

If you’re being all Psychology 101 about your feelings (which you got an A in, so you are), you’re still annoyed about the coffee he brought you earlier. How dare he remember things about you like he’s some poor excuse of a friend. You don’t want to be seen, or be known, especially by him.

You lift your head up, sip the last of your drink, ignore the knot forming somewhere behind your ribs.

“Anyway,” you clear your throat and force the tightest smile your face can manage without cramping. “tell me more about those edible face masks you texted me about last week. Those sounded questionable.”

But Rosalie is a martini deep, so she leans forward across the table before you can finish the pivot. Her fur coat bunches against the edge, nails curling. “So, is there any chance he’s going to be at work tomorrow?”

“What?”

“Jungkook.” She looks at you like you're the crazy one. “Will he be there?”

You squint at her, like maybe if you narrow your eyes hard enough, the words will rearrange into something more coherent. “It’s a weekday. I assume so, unless he’s decided to pursue his dream of becoming a shirtless travel vlogger.”

“Perfect,” she leans back against the chair now. “I’ll be here a few more days.”

“I—what? Wait. Hold on. No.”

She pouts dramatically. “Why not?”

You sputter, and you feel your right eye beginning to twitch. “Wha—Why not?? Rosalie, what do you mean why not?”

“I mean,” she looks genuinely baffled. That makes two of you. “I’m single, he’s single, you work with him… you can’t not set us up just because you’re being weird.”

You’re about to flip this table over. “I’m not— what? I’m not being weird.”

She plays with the toothpick that used to hold her olives. “You do this thing sometimes where you act all chill but then your eye starts to twitch.”

You stare at her, openly horrified. “Rosalie, I do not. No—okay, look. First of all, I do not matchmake. That’s not in my skillset. I can barely order dinner for two without freaking out.”

You abruptly realize your hands are clenched in your lap, and the inside of your cheek is sore from how hard you’re biting it.

Okay — maybe you should let her fuck him. She’s an adult. You’re not her keeper, and thank God you’re not his either. You have no legal or emotional stake in this whatsoever.

But then you think about it for more than six seconds and suddenly the idea feels… bad. Like ethically bad. Cosmically cursed. Like watching someone about to pet a tiger because it looks “soft.”

Besides, why would you want to subject her to that kind of torture? Why would you offer her up to the emotional rollercoaster that is Jungkook when you’re barely surviving it yourself? Honestly, it would be cruel. A hate crime.

She gazes at you. You are going to start screaming spontaneously any minute now.

“Okay.. but like, why can’t you just help me out here?”

You sit there poker-faced. Your brain — already operating at half-capacity thanks to the vodka soda and the emotional trauma of this conversation — halts all function. You open your mouth, praying something logical will come out. A thoughtful excuse. A real reason. Maybe even a full monologue about professionalism or the fact that he drives you insane on a daily basis.

Instead, what tumbles out is, “Heard he gave someone on the Hill a STD.”

Silence.

It’s like every patron in the bar took a vow to participate in a well-timed moment of silence.

“Wait, what?”

You swallow thickly, saliva going down like molasses. “Yeah. I mean, don’t quote me or anything. But, you know how it is. Rumors.”

The words feel like wet socks in your mouth.

You eye her carefully, waiting for the inevitable laugh. But it never comes. “Oh,” she says, drawn out like she’s having a That’s So Raven-level flashback. “I mean, it’s not like we haven’t— “

She stops herself. Bats her eyelashes. Smiles quickly. “So, you were talking about my edible face masks?”

You go along with it. You’re not about to ask what she almost said.

You both brush past it like the moose above you isn’t watching in real-time.

Stirring your straw around the edge of your glass, you become aware of how warm the bar feels, how loud it’s gotten, how your face is doing that thing where it tries to stay neutral but ends up folding in on itself.

You don’t know when you became a liar. As a White House correspondent, your entire career was built on integrity and ethics. This is new territory for you.

Whatever. It doesn’t matter. She can obviously have him. She can have his cheekbones and his annoying woodsy cologne that makes you irrationally upset and his coffee-bringing habits.

Take it all. Godspeed, Rosalie.

Something about being in the office with a minor hangover feels like a crime against humanity. A petty offense punishable by being trapped under fluorescent lights while liquor seeps out of your skin.

Every time Paul from two rows over makes eye contact with you, you feel a fresh wave of nausea roll through your body like a bad remix of last night’s (multiple) vodka sodas.

You don’t even know what he wants. Maybe he heard how you eliminated him last night from your list of potential suitors at the office. He probably can also smell the vodka dripping from your pores but that’s a separate story.

Your night, as it would only happen, ended with four more vodka sodas after the first one had been downed and topics of conversation that should never be repeated in a public setting. Apparently you also tried to steal the moose’s hat. So, yeah. Not really doing your finest this Tuesday morning.

You try to focus on your inbox, which is currently ten emails deep and pulsing with the words URGENT and MONROE EDITS. Tentatively, you open one. Close it. Open another. Realize it’s the same email. Close it again.

All higher brain power has been disabled until further notice. It’s just rotating between memories of Rosalie’s fur coat, the moose head, and the vague threat of vomit in the back of your throat.

Unfortunately, Jungkook sneaks his way in there too.

Which, no. You are not going to sit and think about whether Rosalie ended up DMing him. You’re not donating energy to the possibility of her sliding into his messages with a “hey stranger.” You’re not even remembering the comment she made on the curb outside while waiting for her Uber about “needing to reconnect with old friends.”

Everything is totally fine. (And you’re on the right track — your Advil is starting to kick in.)

“You look like you died at a party and were revived by the ghost of hangovers past,” Emma says as she plops into her chair next to you, placing her chocolate chip muffin on the desk. She had already been here when you arrived ten minutes past 9 AM, but retreated to the cafeteria for a breakfast pick-me-up.

You can’t even crane your neck to look over at her. “I think I’m being judged by Paul.”

Emma leans to peek over her desk. “He’s wearing those weird loafers again. He doesn’t get to judge anyone.”

“I think I’m sweating vodka.” You keep going down your list of woes.

Emma snorts at that. “Rough night?”

Another email gets opened but promptly exited out of. “Very. Met up with my college best friend.”

“The rich girl?” She pushes her glasses higher up on the bridge of her nose, re-opening her laptop.

“Yup,” you sigh. “Still rich.”

“Goals.”

You nod in agreement, fingertips hovering over your keyboard. “I wanted to be her when I was 19. Still kind of do.”

“If I had her money, I’d have fake boobs and a villa in Greece. I’d never answer an email again. I’d float off the grid on a yacht,” Emma muses dreamily, placing her chin in the crook of her palm.

“Instead, I’m here,” your mouth opens with the beginning stages of a yawn. “Rotting, in need of electrolytes. If I know her as well as I think I do, she’s probably getting a massage right now.”

Emma lets out a noise that resembles the familiar sound of laughter, opening up a new window on her laptop to resume her previous tasks. You stare blankly at your own screen. It mocks you with a NBC article you plan to tear to shreds and a to-do list you’re checking off just to say you did something, like the sheer motion will jog your brain into gear.

The cycle goes as such: open a new tab, skim an article, close it, reopen it ten seconds later because you already forgot what was said.

There’s this new policy rollout you’re chasing that’s somehow both deeply boring and disastrous. Two weeks ago, you had dinner with Kara Devlin, a junior legislative aide and some overachiever from Brown, and you pried as much intel as you could from her like a raccoon rummaging through garbage. She had given you a whole lot of nothing, but there was one quote you’ve been holding hostage.

Your eyes brush past a few local blogs. The Times. Politico. That one freelancer who insists on formatting his substack like a ransom note.

And then, you land on Fox. It’s not like you’re looking for suffering, but you might as well round out the masochism.

Your finger slowly moves down the touchpad of your laptop, scrolling down. Half of your mind is still hungover, the other half is trying to remember if you actually did Doordash those electrolyte packets to the building or if you just thought about it aggressively.

The article’s whatever. The usual. Misleading title, blurry infographics, some ominous use of the word “patriotic.” You’re on complete and utter auto-pilot, eyes glazed over in mild disgust, until—

Jungkook Jeon, Contributor.

Your finger freezes on the scroll pad. Aggressively go back up to the top. You sit up so fast you nearly dislocate your vertebrae. Your attention is piqued — not because he has any insight you particularly care about, not for policy clarity, but so that later, you can roast the living hell out of whatever lazy, metaphor-mixing nonsense he’s about to pass off as journalism.

You reread the opening lines again. Something about bipartisan stalling, vague reference to committee strategy, a few recycled phrases.. blah, blah, blah.

There’s a giggle that’s threatening to bubble up from your chest. It’s like the universe knew you needed this. You leisurely continue to scroll, unable to control the smile on your face.

Wait.

What did that line just say?

Your brain turns on like someone flipped the light switch in a haunted house.

There’s a quote nestled in the middle of the article. In big, bold letters, signed off with the name Kara Devlin.

Your smile gets wiped off your face in three seconds flat. Leaning into your screen, you murmur the quote under your breath: “The strategy for the senate is not to all agree to the same policy, but see how many back out due to its democratic ties. That’ll reveal where everyone’s intentions lie.”

No, no, no. That’s your quote. That’s Kara Devlin’s direct words, told to you under the flickering lights of a diner in Maryland after acceptable work hours. It’s now sitting in Jungkook’s article, chopped up and thrown in like seasoning.

Your hangover drops so far down the totem pole it’s practically underground.

You sit back in your chair, hands firmly gripping the armrest, mouth slightly open like you just witnessed a murder but aren’t sure who to call.

Three things immediately occur to you:

The writing is fine. But you would have tightened it, maybe removed some passive verbs, flipped the framing..

His quote placement is clunky. It’s shoved in there as if it’s not the backbone of the piece.

WHAT THE FUCK.

You reread the quote so many times it burns into your retina. Fuck Kara Devlin. Even after you paid for her three appetizers and her milkshake, she turned around and gave it up to Jungkook. She’s a slut (politically).

Emma glances over. “You okay over there?”

You’re too busy calculating how fast you can walk over to the Fox press room without murdering someone on the way to respond.

“Helloooo? Earth to [Y/N]?” She waves her hand in front of your face.

Your voice takes a second to boot back up, like an old car on a cold morning. “He used my quote.”

“Who?” she asks, dropping into the tone she uses for gossip.

You reluctantly swivel the laptop screen towards her like you’re presenting the murder weapon. “Jungkook. He wrote this piece and used my quote from Kara Devlin.”

Emma narrows her eyes at the article, lips moving as she whispers the words on the screen under her breath. Once she’s done, she gasps in horror, “Kara? Like the girl you took out to dinner?”

“The very one.”

“Oh, god.” She pushes your laptop away from her in disgust. “Even after you emotionally groomed her into trusting you?”

“Okay, maybe don’t say ‘emotionally groomed.’ But yes. Her.”

“Are we sure it’s the same one?” Emma offers.

“Of course I’m sure!” You throw your hands up in exasperation. “I was sitting right there across from her as she droned on and on about some other policy issue until this just fell in my lap.”

“Damn,” Emma shakes her head, lets out a tsk.

“How the hell did he even get his hands on it?” You slump in your chair, hands now covering your face.

Emma shrugs unknowingly. “Did Kara get hacked? Maybe Jungkook planted a wire in your bag?”

Both are plausible.

You groan loudly, “It’s not even just the quote that kills me. The placement is ludacris. He just shoved it in there like it’s… like it’s a garnish. It’s chives, Emma. He used my quote like chives.”

Emma winces, “That’s deep.”

“Now his stupid little name is tied to that quote.” Not to mention, you’ll also have to go on a wild goose chase for a new one.

Emma begins to unwrap her muffin that was lying untouched, “Do you want me to go slash his tires? I’ll wear a mask.”

“I’m not saying yes,” you mumble, “but I’m also not saying no.”

She drones on about her master attack plan, while you sit glued to your seat. Fine, you’ll admit it — this little cat-and-mouse game you and Jungkook play has always been fun. It’s fun in the way verbal sparring is, or how lighting a match just to watch it burn could technically be considered a hobby.

It’s not like you haven’t gotten your licks in before — stolen a quote here, intercepted a question there, once maybe ‘accidentally’ deleted his name off a media RSVP list.

But Kara Devlin was yours. She was earned.

Emma is still mid-rant about slashproof ski masks and the technical logistics of a ‘light’ tire slash, when you glance at the clock in the corner of your screen.

And then time slows.

It’s 10:02 AM.

Ten. Zero. Two.

Your pulse spikes, hair on the back of your neck standing up. You freeze completely like maybe time will reverse itself out of pity.

“Emma,” you cut her off mid-sentence. “I gotta go. Meeting. 10:30 AM.”

She blinks at you. “Oh! What kind of meeting?”

You’re already shoving your notebook into your bag with the panic of someone being chased, breathlessly speaking. “Legislative aide. Some Senate bill, I don’t know. It’s across the lawn, you know how long it fucking takes to get there.”

Emma pulls a face. “Oof. That’s rough. If you speed walk, you’ll make it by 10:25.”

You stuff your laptop into your bag too, nearly drop your phone, do a full spin because you can’t find your badge and then find it pinned to your pants pocket like a dumbass.

“Okay,” you mutter. “Okayokayokay. No time to dwell. I’ll process the theft later, either in therapy or in the bathtub with wine.”

Emma’s holding back a laugh, “Well. Let me know if you need company while you do that.”

God, she’s great. What an upstanding woman.

With that, you’re gone, storming out of the press room. Your bag keeps smacking your hip, hangover faintly lingering. You speed past a group of interns who part like the Red Sea, interrupting their morning gossip session.

You are an organized and professional woman who has simply spiraled about a journalist stealing your source and forgotten about a government meeting. It happens.

Today is going great. Perfect. Fantastic.

You burst through the glass doors, sun suddenly too bright on your skin. The air smells like fresh landscaping.

Usually, you love this part. This little stroll across the lawn, the strut in front of a stunning backdrop of democracy and white buildings that gleam. Normally, you take it all in.

Not today though. Today, you are head down, hair sticking to the nape of your neck, puffs of air inhaled into your lungs at an alarming rate. You break into a half-jog across the lawn, cursing your choice of shoes and the existence of time itself. Somewhere in the distance, a tourist points at you, probably thinking you’re someone important. You are not. You’re just late.

You're almost there, you can see the building rearing its ugly head. You’ll have about five minutes to fetch some water but it’ll do. Honestly, you’ve made great time, so that’s something to celebrate.

And then — you hear it. Your voice, off in the distance, echoing across the expanse of the lawn,

Weird. Not totally impossible, but unsettling.

You blink a few times, slow your pace, and instinctively whip your head in a few different directions like you’re the supporting character in a horror movie who’s about to get the axe.

Did you die? Did the hangover finally win? Is this what the afterlife is, a loop of your own voice haunting you across the lawn?

It really does sound exactly like you.

You peer up at the sky, as if God or maybe Jenna is pulling some weird power move. Like surprise! Time for a self-awareness ambush. Let’s listen to you talk for a change!

You slow to a crawling speed, confused and slightly nauseous. This could be a hallucination.

But then… you see it.

On the steps of the west wing entrance, past the security gate, near one of the stone benches, you spot a man with broad shoulders, back facing you. Watching something on a laptop that contains your voice.

You walk even slower than humanly possible, tiptoeing as you get closer. You realize he’s watching the press pool from a few weeks ago. You don’t remember which one exactly, they all blend together.

The inconspicuous man chuckles to himself.

Who the hell is that?

You take a few half-steps forward like getting closer will make any of this make sense. Just a casual stroll, nothing to see here. A curious taxpayer.

Squinting a little harder as the sun hits at an odd angle, you see a notepad perched in his lap, pen in hand.

That’s kind of sweet. Someone clearly looks up to you. Maybe it’s that intern you made prolonged eye contact with.

Oh. Oh.

He picks up his pen again, and you see them. The tattoos that litter his knuckles, clear as daylight.

You know those tattoos. You’ve known those tattoos since freshman year of college.

They look a lot like Jungkook—

Jungkook is sitting on the steps of the West Wing in broad sunlight, watching your press pool questions on his laptop like he’s studying you.

A gasp escapes you, and you slap a hand over your mouth but it's too late.

His head jerks around so fast he almost flings the notepad off his thighs. Those eyes widen when he locks them with yours, like a deer in headlights.

There’s probably a good two seconds that go by where you just stare at each other. Frozen in this very weird, dramatic standoff. Stuck in that horrible moment of recognition, like when your ex appears in your Hinge likes or you walk in on your sibling watching a thirst trap.

“What in the fuck are you doing?” you ask slowly, voice sharp and cold.

He flinches at your tone. “Jesus Christ, could you not sneak up on me like that?”

You creep forward, inching toward him like you’re hiding a knife behind your back. “Sneak up on you? You’re the one sitting on the steps in broad daylight studying my voice like a weirdo.”

Jungkook shuts his notebook quickly, “I’m not studying it—”

“Oh, really?” you snap, marching closer. You’re hovering over him now, your shadow looming on his body. “So you just casually watch old press briefings, skip to my questions and take notes for fun?”

Jungkook stands now, placing his notebook next to his laptop on the step. “Okay, relax. I was prepping.”

It’s annoying how much taller he is now that he’s face-to-face with you.

“Prepping?” you echo. “Prepping for what, exactly?”

“I was seeing how you phrase your questions,” he replies flatly. “It’s not illegal. You’re not copyrighted.”

You laugh sarcastically. You don’t know what compels you to stand there and say more. By all means, you should flip him off and walk away. Let him watch. Never think about it again. But you do the opposite. “Are you kidding me right now? You stole a quote from my source —which by the way, fuck you for that— and now you’re out here trying to take notes on my question phrasing?”

He shrugs casually. “What do you want me to say? You’re good.”

Yeah, you know. It’s how you got into Columbia. This shouldn’t come as a surprise, and yet somehow it does because he’s the one saying it, enough to stun you.

“Oh, fuck off. You don’t get to plagiarize my source and then compliment me.”

He walks down a step, still towering over you. “I didn’t plagiarize. I just published what I found.”

Your ears are ringing. “That’s your justification?”

“Wasn’t theft, just initiative.”

And it’s the way he says things like this, like the world exists to conform to all his desires, that sends you spiraling into a cocktail of blind rage and envy. When you’ve been losing things to Jungkook for as long as you have, you live in a constant state of acceptance that never really ends. It’s in how you brace yourself whenever his name is on lists outside of bulletin boards, how you sometimes catch yourself expecting to lose before you’ve begun trying.

All you can muster up is a heaving sigh before you reach down and slam the laptop shut, pausing your own voice mid-question.

He looks mildly offended. “Was that necessary?”

You gape at him, words barely forming, because the audacity is just so constant with this man. “What are you even doing here?” you gesture to the area. “Sitting here like some creepy ghost?”

“It’s a free country.”

“Don’t you dare use the constitution on me right now.”

“I like sitting here,” he says innocently. “I think here.”

You deadpan. “You… think here.”

“Yes.”

“In public.”

“God forbid I like to remember what this place is supposed to be about,” He raises his hands in defense.

“Oh good lord.”

“It helps,” he continues, completely ignoring you. “When I’m burnt out or pissed off or just need a minute to think, I come here. It reminds me why I got into politics in the first place.”

You scoff. “Which was..?”

He looks back toward the Capitol dome, eyes squinting like he’s about to say something that belongs on one of those mugs from the White House gift shop that you got your mom four years ago. “To do something that actually mattered,” he says. “To write about the government in a way that reminds people they’re still human. That we’re all humans.”

Now this monologue reminds you why you hate the guy. Who cares if he’s handsome or insightful or tall? He has deduced your career to a Pinterest-esque quote about journalism.

“Wow.” You start to slow clap, the sound of your palms slapping echoing across the lawn. “So poetic. Inspiring, really.”

He cocks his head, waiting for you to finish being theatrical.

“And also,” you put your claps away. Better to save them for your chat with the legislative aide, which you really should be getting to. “to apparently steal my tone, quote my sources, and stalk my voice.”

He rolls his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. “Like I said, you’re good. Sorry I noticed.”

You clench your jaw, body buzzing. “Whatever. Enjoy your little identity theft picnic.”

You spin on your heel and march off toward the building you were actually supposed to be at. Your steps are fast, eyes trained ahead.

Even as your fists are clenched, you can’t stop the thing rising up behind your ribs. The stupid, aching realization that Jungkook has been watching you.

Like you’re the only one worth keeping up with.

You hate it all. You should demand CNN to scrub all footage. But none of it really matters because what you hate most viscerally, is that your brain whispers something treasonous like: at least he gets it.

Your face burns, heart pounding as you push past the wooden doors of the old building in the West Wing.

You hope the wind swallows him whole. And maybe his stupid notebook too.

masterlist + ask

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