Headers For "SEVEN" Release

Baby, Heaven's in your eyes 🍂

🧡🍁🍊

First post🩷

⚠️MDNI⚠️

taehyung dancing to “what’s your fantasy” for @taee ♡

bonus:

taehyung headers ꒰ ৎ୭ ꒱

by me <3

for better quality you can also find them here 1, 2, 3

Across a Crowded Room

Pairing: Jungkook x reader

Strangers-to-lovers, idolverse, smut

Word count: 10.7k

Summary: Dissatisfied and uncomfortable at a party where you don’t belong, in a country where you feel like you don’t belong, you see a man looking at you from across the room. Maybe he’s what you’ve been missing.

Content: alcohol consumption, fingering, oral (f. receiving), protected sex, multiple orgasms, I guess slight exhibitionism since it all happens up against a window lmao

A/N: Ok, so I 1000000% thought I had re-posted this here already?? but Lia has informed me that I have not and since I got a nice message about it on the old blog, I figured now's as good a time as any to repost!! The start of this fic is literally the first writing I had done for over a decade. I started writing even before I had a writing blog. Then the rest of it was written... last November? ish? idk. anyway, I read this myself the other day and it's alright! ETA: LOL, you can tell it's old because it's written in present tense LMAO

* * *

You tug self-consciously at the hem of your dress; it’s a little too short for your liking, but Hanjae likes you in K-style clothes and, once you’re there, it’ll be fine. It’s always a little nerve-wracking the thought of going to a party where you hardly know anyone, but it always turns out fine. Fun, even. Positive thinking. You sigh and inhale deeply before leaving your apartment and heading down to the car he’s sent for you.

When you first met, you were both taken with each other. He was intrigued by your foreignness and enchanted by your clumsy negotiations in a foreign culture; you were reassured by his confidence and excited by the access he had to hitherto hidden worlds of luxury and indulgence. He wasn’t rolling with Elon Musk or anything (and you’d have had nothing to do with him if he were), but he lived with an ease and security that you yearned for. Which, you suppose, is why you’re still letting him parade you around at parties like this.

It was fun at first. You liked the attention – who wouldn’t? Instead of feeling freakish and out of place, you felt interesting and cherished for your differences. You felt like they were laughing with you when you told funny, embarrassing stories of when you’d got it wrong, or how you do things back home. It felt like people were fascinated by you and you were warmed by their curiosity. You didn’t mind when they reached out to touch your tattoos or asked personal questions, because they didn’t mean any harm. Hanjae gave you a social life that you hadn’t quite managed to create for yourself in this new place and got you out of your apartment, out of your comfort zone, and you clung to that.

Recently, though, you’ve been feeling different. When you show up to parties with him and see his friends you’ve met before, they’re surprised you’re still around. They joke to your face that they would’ve expected Hanjae to have moved on by now. They ask what his parents think (but you have never been introduced to them). They’re not so charmed by you anymore. These friends barely spare you a second thought once they’ve registered their surprise and the attentions of new friends aren’t as welcome as they once were. You started feeling uncomfortable with the way Hanjae paraded you around a couple of weeks ago and now, you’re frankly sick to your stomach. When people reach out to touch you, you flinch away; you don’t tell funny, embarrassing stories because you feel like you’re being laughed at; you stay quiet, for the most part, because your Korean is still not very good and, when they correct you or laugh at your mistakes, you don’t feel like they’re doing it kindly. Standing, mute, next to Hanjae while he laughs and drinks makes you feel like an object, a trophy, an oddity. If Hanjae were a Victorian-era Englishman travelling to the ends of the Earth to ransack a foreign place and bring home stolen goods, you were the buried necklace of an Aztec noblewoman he would give to the eligible girl in the manor house whose hand he is trying to win. He is showing you off because other people are impressed, but you no longer get the feeling that he is.

You hand over your phone and lip balm to Hanjae when you meet him outside the venue; this became a habit early on, so you wouldn’t have to hold a bag and he was happy to keep them in his pockets. Now, it feels a little bit like handing over your freedom.

“Cheer up!” he says as you lean back in your seat. “This’ll be fun, won’t it?” He smiles at you and tucks your hair behind your ear. He’s not a bad guy. He really isn’t. You’re not entirely sure if he even realises what he’s doing with you, if he knows that he doesn’t really like you but the idea of you, if he knows that there’s no future with you, if he’s realised that this relationship is rapidly approaching its expiry date. He’s been extremely good to you and you owe it to him to try. However much you want it to end, you don’t want it to end badly and you don’t want to hurt him; there’s no need for that.

You walk into the party amongst a sea of black suits. You scan the crowd, looking for other women you can compare your outfit to. A terrible thing to do, you know, but your insecurity needs reassurance that you’re dressed appropriately for this event. Hanjae is already leading you over to his friends, two of whom have brought their girlfriends, who are dressed in outfits similar to yours, so that’s something at least. You greet them brightly and Hanjae hands you a drink before launching into a conversation you can’t quite follow. That’s the other thing about these parties; they’re so loud, even if everyone were speaking English, you’re not sure you’d be able to hear them properly, so you hardly stand a chance in Korean. You’ve improved dramatically and can get by in your day-to-day life, but you don’t feel like you’re good enough yet to have a proper conversation, to really talk to anyone. It’s quite a lonely feeling and another reason you’ve spent so much time with Hanjae: he speaks fluent English; although he uses it less and less often these days and he gets more impatient when you need things repeating. You suppose it must be difficult for him, too, having to use a second language so much.

You gaze around the room, looking at nothing in particular. You sip your drink and wonder what everyone else is thinking about. You barely notice the looks you get anymore – most of them are meaningless anyway and people pass their eyes over you before turning back to their friends – but out of the corner of your eye, you see someone looking at you. You don’t recognise him, but you’ve never been very good with faces and the lighting is weird here. You raise your glass and nod slightly; even if you don’t know him, it’s nice to be polite. He looks a little flustered that you’ve noticed and quickly looks away, and then back again and raises his glass a little before turning and walking away. You smile, what a cutie.

*

Your glass is empty and your feet hurt from standing still for so long, so you tell Hanjae you’re going to get another drink. He asks you to get him a whiskey, so you traipse to the bar and order. You hand the drink to Hanjae without a word and wander off; there must be somewhere to sit in this place.

The main room is cavernous and you’re worried there will be no open doors to anywhere else. There is a small group of tables in one corner, but they are all already occupied. You look around as you walk, and suddenly bump into someone.

“Oh, so-“, you start to say, but you realise it isn’t someone; it is a mirror. The whole back wall is mirrored. For a moment, you are completely disoriented and slightly embarrassed, but as you edge along the mirror, you realise that the wall doesn’t reach the other side and the room continues beyond it. As you cross behind the mirror, the din of music and voices is subdued significantly. There’s another partial wall from the other side as though the room is zig-zagging. You’re wary of going too far, but the increasing quiet is soothing. You turn another corner and there’s a bench opposite a large staircase. You immediately sit down along its length and lift your feet. You wonder what the time is and how much more of it you’ll have to kill before you can go home. You close your eyes and take a deep breath, reminding yourself that Hanjae is a good man and you are very fortunate and suffering from very glamorous problems. A few months ago, you’d have given an arm and a leg to be at a party like this. Be careful what you wish for, you think to yourself.

As you fidget on the bench, you realise you are not alone. There is a man coming down the stairs. You take your feet off the bench and try to look like you’re doing something (what? What could you be doing? There is absolutely nothing to occupy you here!); you settle for just looking awkward. You nod your head and raise a hand as he reaches the bottom.

“Are you ok?” he asks. His hesitance reminds you of someone and you realise with a flash that he is the man who was looking at you earlier.

You clear your throat.

“네. 괜찮아요. 감사합니다,” you answer falteringly, embarrassed at having been caught hiding out. You rise to leave.

“오, 정말요? ……………?”

You don’t understand the second half of what he said and you curse yourself for having answered in Korean; if you’d just spoken English and pretended you didn’t know any Korean at all, this would’ve been much simpler!

“Sorry, I didn’t understand,” you tell him. “갈게요.”

“No, wait,” he cries, with more force than he intended. “You don’t have to leave.” He gestures to the bench. “I was also looking for somewhere quiet.”

He speaks shyly and you assume he doesn’t have much practice at speaking English and don’t have the energy for locking you both into a conversation where neither of you can quite understand the other. On the other hand, it would feel rude to just walk away now. You stand, not leaving but not quite staying, both of you trapped in an awkward moment that seems to last forever.

“You can leave if you want,” he says, finally. “I am going to stay.” He sits on the bottom step and takes a sip from his drink. “It’s ok, we don’t have to talk- but I can speak English a little bit if you want.”

You slowly return to the bench and sit down. You feel like you should say something, but your mind is blank. It’s like you’ve never had a conversation before in your life; what do people say? Does he even want you to say something? Why was he staring at you earlier? In the same way that everyone else always does or was there a specific reason? You feel your hands start to sweat and you inwardly roll your eyes at yourself and tell yourself to get a grip, literally nothing is happening.

He is looking out of the window and you are staring into the corner on the opposite side; you each take glances at one another, praying the other doesn’t notice. You can still hear the music from the party, quiet in the background, and you wonder if Hanjae has noticed your absence yet; you expect not. You glance at the man opposite you and catch his eye. You both chuckle awkwardly.

“I’m ________,” you say.

“Jungkook,” he answers.

“It’s nice to meet you, Jungkook.”

“I saw you earlier; I didn’t think we’d met before.”

“No, I’m not really invited to these things,” you explain. “I just tag along with my b-,“ you stop, the word ‘boyfriend’ weighing heavily on your tongue.

“Who’s your boyfriend?”

Dammit.

“Uh, Kim Hanjae?”

“Ah… Don’t know him.”

“He’s…” How on earth did you get to this subject so quickly? Do you really want to talk about Hanjae to this random man? More to the point, does this random man want to hear about your boyfriend and how you actually don’t want him to be your boyfriend anymore? Doubtful. “He’s nice,” you finish, lamely.

“Just don’t like parties?”

Part of you wishes you had just left when you had the chance. Then you realise how ridiculously you’re behaving; hating the party because no one will talk to you and, now, as soon as someone starts, you want to leave. ‘Get a grip, girl,’ you say to yourself.

“I like parties,” you answer, “but it’s-… I’m-… This-…” You pause as you try to work out how to give an honest answer that isn’t simultaneously dumping all your crap onto him. “These are all his friends; I don’t really know anyone here.”

He nods.

“I have a different problem: everyone knows me and wants to talk to me all the time.” He laughs. “I don’t like big parties. They’re… so much… too much.”

You nod. The two of you lapse into silence again, but it’s more comfortable this time. You’ve broken the ice a little. He seems nice and you feel a pang of sympathy for him: to be a big deal at parties like this sounds exhausting, especially if you don’t even like parties to start with. No wonder he’s hiding out with you.

“It’s hard for me to talk to people at these things,” you tell him. “My Korean isn’t very good and Hanjae doesn’t like speaking English when we’re with his friends because some of them don’t speak it.”

“I think your Korean sounds good.”

You laugh; that was a sweet thing to say given that he’s heard you say all of three words.

“It’s ok, but we couldn’t have this conversation in Korean. Sorry.” You smile weakly and feel pathetic; you knew it would be a process, moving to a new country and learning the language as you go, but you weren’t prepared for how embarrassed and ashamed you would feel all the time about your failings.

“Don’t be sorry!” He grins at you. “I can try my English! But, actually, it is not very good either. Sorry.”

You laugh again. Koreans and their modesty; his English sounds just fine from where you’re sitting.

“Did you move here recently?” he asks.

“About four months ago,” you answer. “I was… looking for something new, I guess. I don’t know… I needed new horizons, new experiences.”

“And how do you think about it now you’re here?”

You wonder if he knows what a loaded question that is. You exhale with a huff. Where to begin?

“It’s been harder than I thought it would be,” you tell him. “I feel very… different. Being looked at so much is not something I was used to… I think Hanjae likes it, but it’s awkward for me. I feel like…”

“An object.”

Your eyes meet and your chest is flooded with the warmth of familiarity. He’ll understand, won’t he?

“When we met,” you start, looking away self-consciously, “he was charmed by my foreignness, y’know? And he liked how different I looked and found it cute when I made mistakes in Korean and didn’t know things. It gave him clout, y’know? Dating a foreigner? I was spoilt by it, the attention; I thought it was for me and when he bought me dresses and took me to parties to show me off, I thought it was because I was special, not just because I was foreign. I loved it at the start.

“I think the appeal is wearing off, though,” you continue, stealing a quick glance to gauge his reaction. He’s looking at you patiently, intently, concentrating, probably, on understanding what you’re saying. “He gets annoyed sometimes now when I don’t know things and-“

You tell him everything. Once you start, you find you can’t stop. You don’t know whether to be angry or sad about it, so you vacillate between the two. Jungkook listens, never interrupts; he drinks and nods and keeps looking at you with those huge brown eyes.

“I know it’s over,” you say, resolute. “I just-” you realise it as you say it, “I’m scared that I won’t have anything if I don’t have him.”

He looks at you thoughtfully for a moment.

“But you met him in Korea, right?”

“Yeah.”

“So, you still have the person who moved all the way here to start a new life; that seems like a lot to me.”

For a split second, you don’t know whether to burst into tears or fling your arms around him and give him a kiss. ‘Is he looking at me,’ you wonder ‘or staring into my soul?’. You feel seen, seen for the first time in months. You decide then and there that you would walk on hot coals for this man; he’s got you whether he wants you or not. His kindness streams out from him like rays of the sun from behind clouds. Such a bright, young thing, hiding in the dark.

“What about you?” You ask. “You’re hiding back here, too.”

“Ah.” He finishes his drink and places the glass next to him on the step. “I prefer quiet places. I like to keep things small and…-”

“Intimate?”

You blush furiously as he looks at you. That isn’t what you meant and you’re not sure how he’s taken it.

“Yeah, intimate. Big crowds are not my thing.”

“Not when they forget that you’re a person, first.”

He nods.

You stand and move to look out of the window, closer to him. He rises, too, and stands next to you. Your arm is a hair’s breadth from him; you daren’t move.

“Do you like the view?” he asks.

“Actually, I don’t really like a cityscape. I prefer country views.”

“What are the views like where you’re from?”

No one has asked you about home like that. They ask for funny differences between here and there or ask you to debunk or confirm stereotypes, but no one has really cared what you actually think. You smile, picturing in your mind’s eye cloudy, wind-swept beaches, rolling hills, pier arcades, church spires and so much green. You tell him everything. You turn your back to Seoul and, leaning against the glass, describe the house you grew up in and where your grandparents used to live; you describe the places you took holidays when you were a kid and the specific smell of the sea that isn’t the same anywhere else in the world. He’s been to your home country before, but he hasn’t been to your hometown; he asks questions and shows interest and you realise how starving you’ve been. Starved of this sort of attention – focused, interested, penetrating. You’ve had a taste and you want more and more.

You ask him about Seoul; did he grow up here? No, he tells you about Busan in the South. He speaks slowly and thoughtfully about his childhood and his dreams and moving here at such a young age, growing up so far from everything he’s ever known. He’s achieved more than he ever thought was even possible, more than he had ever dreamed, he explains; sometimes he still can’t believe it’s real.

While he talks, you study his face. He’s happy now, but you feel for the scared, little boy thrust into the industry machine before he even knew who he was. Now’s not the time, you know that, but you want to gently crack him open like a soft-boiled egg. Such depth in his eyes, so much soul. You resist the urge many times to put your hand on his arm, hold his hand for a second, reach out and physically touch him somehow. You feel connected to him in such a way that you need it to be physical for a moment, to close the circle, to just… touch.

You’re still standing by the window, deep in conversation, when a man appears from behind the wall and beckons to Jungkook. They talk quickly and Jungkook returns.

“I’m going to get a drink.”

Your heart falls.

“Do you want one?”

A wash of relief. You shrug, sure.

“Ok, wait here. I won’t be long.”

He leaves and you turn back to the window, pressing your forehead against the cool glass. You wonder what time it is, where is Hanjae, what’s he doing, is he even still here, has he noticed you’re missing, is Jungkook actually coming back? You take some deep breaths.

With no watch, no phone, and no clock in this dark, little hideaway, you have no way to tell how long Jungkook has been. One minute? Could be ten. You wonder if he’ll make it back to you; after all, he was hiding back here to avoid being grasped in the clutches of all the many, many people out there. Maybe he’s been waylaid. He’s got stuck with a chatterbox who won’t be quiet; he’s got trapped into a business conversation that he can’t leave. Maye he’s seen some friends and is having fun out there.

You sigh, knowing that if he doesn’t come back soon, you’ll have to go out there, too. Hanjae will be missing you, you tell yourself; it’s rude to abandon him completely when he’s the reason you’re even here in the first place. You take a deep, resolute breath and stand, smoothing out your dress. You bump into Jungkook as you round the corner.

“Oh,” he says as he sees you. “Are you going?”

He hands you a drink and you take it, the cold glass sending goosebumps up your arm.

“Uh, well, no, well yes, I was but I didn’t know if you were coming back.” You hope you didn’t sound accusatory.

“I’m sorry, it is hard to avoid people out there,” he replies, continuing around the corner and sitting on the bench. You follow him and he places a hand on the bench, indicating you should join. You feel bad; he shouldn’t have to apologise. You sit next to him on the bench and sip your drink.

“You can go back out there, if you want, you know; you don’t have to stay here with me,” you tell him. His eyes widen and he shakes his head.

“No, thank you!” he laughs. “That was enough. Maybe I will show my face again a bit later.”

“Good.” You spoke without thinking and are just about to regret it when he smiles at you.

“Yeah. Good.”

You place a hand down on the bench and he reaches out a finger to touch your bracelet. When you packed your whole life into one suitcase, a lot of brutal cuts had to be made and there are so many parts of your heart at home, abandoned by you, but not this one. It’s a tiny gold chain, with a tiny gold J attached.

“That’s not the letter of your name,” Jungkook says, still studying your bracelet.

“No… No, it’s from my best friend’s name,” you explain. “She gave this to me a long time ago; I like to wear it when I feel like I need her, to feel like I’ve got a little bit of her with me.” You rub your wrist, self-consciously, and wonder what she’s up to right now.

“Does it help?”

“No, not really.” You laugh, a little sad. “It reminds me that there are people in the world who love me, which is nice, but it also reminds me that those people are thousands of miles away.”

“All of them?” His penetrating eyes beam at you and you feel like no matter what answer you give, it’ll be the wrong one. You shrug.

“I thought maybe you told me a fake name before,” he admits, grinning sheepishly.

“Oh, I don’t think that would’ve ever occurred to me! Why, do you do that?”

He nods. He smiles but it’s sad, the mirth not reaching his eyes.

“Sometimes. But I wouldn’t get away with it so easily if I wore one of those, right?”

You unclasp the bracelet’s fastening and it slips off your wrist and, taking an end in each hand, hold it out to him. He looks uncertainly at you and you nod. He offers his wrist and you fix the chain in place.

“There’s no getting away from who you really are,” you tell him, knowing full well that it doesn’t matter where you go, ’cause there you’ll always be. He grins. “For tonight.”

“For tonight, I can be your best friend?”

You laugh and nod, thinking, ‘god, can he be my best friend forever?’.

“Thank you,” he says quietly, gently moving the bracelet around his wrist; you wonder what he’s thinking and take a sip of your drink.

A few minutes pass in a comfortable silence until Jungkook speaks again.

“I don’t have anything to give you.”

“What?”

“In return.” He indicates the bracelet. “I don’t have anything I can give you.” He takes off a ring and considers it. “I think they will all be too big.” He holds it out and you offer up your hand; he slips it onto your index finger and you lift your hand up, swirling the ring around so that it very nearly flies off the tip.

“Too big,” you confirm with a grin.

He pulls his sleeve up to reveal a watch and you notice the tattoos running underneath.

“I think this will not go with your dress, right?”

You nod absently, trying to make out what you’re looking at. You take the edge of his sleeve and lift it a little higher to get a better look and then become aware of what you’re doing and drop it, apologising instantly.

“That’s ok,” he says and he undoes the cuff, rolling the sleeve up to his elbow. He turns his arm slowly so you can get a good look (or as good a look as you can manage in the dark light). You nod approvingly.

“That’s why I was looking at you earlier,” he says, a little embarrassed. “I was trying to look at your tattoo.”

Well, that explains the intensity of his focus earlier. You turn so that he can see. You feel, for a second, his hand above your skin and your stomach clenches, praying he won’t touch you like everyone else does: ‘just please don’t let him touch me; please, please don’t let him touch me’. But the touch never comes. You sense his hand moving across your back and down your arm and you twist your head to see his finger, an inch above the skin, tracing the lines of your tattoo. You breathe a sigh of relief.

“What do you think?” You ask, turning your body back towards him.

“They’re very beautiful.” He looks you straight in the eyes as he answers and you’re struck again by the feeling of being seen and not merely looked at. Neither of you looks away this time. You hold the moment between yourselves, pausing time just for a second. You break the connection and look down, tracing a finger over your bracelet on his wrist. You know it’s only a coincidence that they share the same initial – it’s not exactly uncommon – but something about it feels right.

“Do you want it back?” he asks.

No, you don’t. Not yet. You feel like he’s wearing a part of you while he’s wearing it; he has accepted a part of you as a part of himself. You feel warm in the glow of that tiny, tremulous thread between you. You think, and the thought shocks you, that you would be alright he kept it forever. It’s immensely precious to you, so much so that you brought it with you thousands of miles away into your new life, but, somehow, Jungkook’s wearing it brings more to you, more comfort, more confidence, more certainty in the knowledge that there are people in the world that love you. Love is not diminished when given away, it is doubled. You suddenly wish that you did have something of his you could wear, if only for tonight.

The silence lapses and you talk, nursing your drinks, knowing that one of you will have to leave if either of you needs another. You forget the passing of time and everything outside of this little bubble. It’s the most fun you’ve had at a party for ages.

The man who appeared earlier returns and, once again, beckons to Jungkook. Jungkook stands and goes over to him and they, once again, talk quietly. Jungkook returns and the man remains.

“Where’s your boyfriend?” Jungkook asks and you feel shattered all of a sudden. You had forgotten all about Hanjae, truth be told, and you are overwhelmed with guilt and shame that you’ve spent the whole night away from him, talking to another man. He isn’t my boyfriend, that’s what you wanted to say: he’s definitely not my boyfriend, or even if he is, I don’t want him to be and he won’t be for much longer! Why is Jungkook asking? Whatever bubble you were in has been popped from the inside. A part of you feels heartbroken and a part of you feels betrayed. It was just you and Jungkook; there’s no need to bring anyone else into this.

“Oh, uh, I don’t know,” you stutter in response. “Probably… somewhere…”. You have no idea where he will be; you assume that he is still here (you hope he is still here because he still has your phone), but who can say for sure?

“Do you want to leave with me?” Jungkook asks and you are stunned into momentary silence.

“What?”

“Do you want to leave with me?” he repeats. “We don’t have to go anywhere; I can take you home if you want, but would you like to leave?”

You feel like that is too many mixed messages to cope with right now so you nod dumbly and stand.

“Hanjae,” you say abruptly as your brain sputters back into gear. “He has my phone and my things.”

“Ok, shall I meet you outside? I’ll wait.”

“I’ll be quick.”

Breathless, you walk as quickly as you can back into the cavernous room, the noise building to a roar, the throng of people overwhelming. You stand on tiptoes and crane your neck, looking for anyone you recognise, cursing the organisers for the dim lighting and all men for their interminably boring black suits which make none of them stand out. You notice movement in your peripheral vision and turn to see a waving arm, beckoning you. It’s not Hanjae; it’s one of his friends.

“Where have you been?” they exclaim as you approach. “Han was looking everywhere for you; thought you must’ve disappeared! Anyway, he had to leave earlier – some work emergency – so he told me to give you these if I saw you.” He hands over your phone, lip balm, and a lipstick you’re sure isn’t yours. “He told you you can order a car if you like, but he won’t be back so you’ll have to get home on your own.”

You see that his friends clearly have no idea of entertaining you or keeping you company for the rest of the evening, which is just as well, given you were about to leave with someone else.

As you make your way outside, you look at the lipstick you were given. You try to think what might constitute a ‘work emergency’ on a Friday night; it’s not like the guy’s a doctor or fire fighter! You try not to let suspicion creep in, because Hanjae has never given you any reason to doubt his fidelity before, but then, you’ve also never considered it, because you’ve never really considered the two of you to be in an actual relationship. Maybe he hadn’t either. And if that’s the case, then there’s no need to be hurt or angered by it. But there is a niggle. There’s something crawling, digging up, trying to plant its seed in your heart. You decide if it’s going to happen at all, it will have to be tonight. As you approach the doorway, you stand to one side and dial Hanjae’s number.

“여보세요?” he answers just as you were about to give up.

“Hi, it’s me.”

“Oh. Where are you?”

“I’m still at the party.”

“Oh. Where did you go? I tried to look for you earlier; I’m not there anymore. I’ve had to come to the office.”

“Yeah, I know; I found Seongyoung and he gave me my phone.”

“Right yeah, yeah.” He sounds distracted.

“So, are you in the office now?” you ask.

“Yeah, but I can’t see you; there’s been a huge mistake and it’s going to take a long time to fix.”

“Please; it’ll be quick. I promise.”

He sighs heavily but agrees. You hang up the phone with a small weight sitting in your stomach.

You turn back to the entrance and walk out, scanning for Jungkook. There are a few dark cars sitting in front of you but you have no idea if any one of them belongs to him. You hesitate, not sure where to turn, standing awkwardly in front of drivers and security officers. A door on one of the cars opens and a hand waves; you approach and Jungkook beams up at you from inside.

“Quick!” He reaches out to grab your hand and pull you in. He speaks quickly to the driver in Korean and turns back to you. “Are you alright?”

“Um, actually, can we go somewhere?”

“Where do you want to go?”

“I… have to do something. It won’t take long, please.”

“Of course, that’s ok. Where do you want to go?”

You give him the address of Hanjae’s office building and he relays it to the driver. You sit, slightly on edge, compulsively flicking the edge of your phone case off and on, off and on. The building isn’t far and you sit in silence while Jungkook hums along to the radio. You are barely even aware of what song is playing. The driver slows and you unbuckle your seatbelt.

“Just give me like, five minutes. I’ll be quick,” you say as you open the car door.

“It’s ok; you can take as long as you like. I will wait.”

You wonder what Jungkook thinks you are doing, where he thinks you are. You wonder if he knows. Part of you assumes he does, since he seems to intuitively understand so much about you. You enter the building and approach the reception desk. The woman behind it barely looks up as she opens the barrier to let you in. You’re not sure if she recognises you from times you’ve been here before or just does not care about her job. If you had to man a reception desk in an almost entirely empty building on a Friday night, you probably wouldn’t care much either. As you call a thank you to her and walk past, the lipstick suddenly flashes into your mind. Could it be hers? You suppose it could be. It could be anyone’s. It might not have anything to do with Hanjae at all. Maybe Seongyoung handed you his girlfriend’s lipstick by mistake. Maybe not. It won’t matter soon.

You reach Hanjae’s floor and can see him in his glass-walled office: jacket and tie off, sleeves rolled up, standing and on the phone. You walk with purpose to his door and wave. He gestures for you to come in, so you stand inside the door and wait for his conversation to end.

“What’s up?” he asks, putting his phone on his desk.

“I think we need to have a conversation,” you begin, your resolve holding firm for now.

“Right now? I really don’t have time-“

“I said I’d be quick and I meant it.” If you aren’t quick, you’re not sure you’ll be able to go through with it.

“Ok then, shoot.”

You hadn’t actually planned what you were going to say. None of the words sounded right; you wanted to be clear and direct but kind at the same time; is it even possible to tell someone kindly that you don’t want them to be in your life anymore? You clench and unclench your fist and decide to rip the plaster straight off.

“I don’t think we should see each other anymore. I don’t think we should be together. I think we should end things. This is over.” The words tumble out without your being able to stop them. Hanjae’s eyebrows raise and he looks surprised.

“Oh.”

He looks a little dumb-founded but you had expected him to say more and aren’t sure what to do now. You open and close your mouth like a goldfish, waiting for something else to happen. You haven’t actually broken up with anyone before so you’re not sure how this usually goes.

“Can I ask why?”

“We’re not a good fit.” You hope that this will suffice but you know it won’t satisfy him.

“What does that mean? Don’t we have fun together? Don’t we like each other?” Ay, there’s the rub.

“Actually, I don’t really think you do, no.” You try to explain to him all the things you’ve been feeling recently; you try not to blame him for any of it because you don’t want this to turn into an argument; you tread as carefully as you can but you’re so desperate for this to be over now it’s started that you can’t stop your mouth running on and on.

“You’ve given me so much and I’m so grateful to you for that and I really value all the time we have spent together and I do think you’re a nice person and I don’t want to hurt you but… well, this is how I feel.” You feel a little breathless as you come to a stop. Hanjae doesn’t say anything for a while and you can’t read his face. You don’t know what he’s thinking and the longer the silence lasts, the sicker and sicker you feel.

“I’m sorry that you feel that my attention has been so unwelcome,” he finally answers, speaking slowly and coldly. “I don’t really know what else I could have done to show you that I value you: I buy you things, take you places, I introduced you to all of my friends, I show you off; is that not loving? You say you don’t even think I like you, but if that’s true, why would I bother to see you? Why would I waste my time with you if I didn’t? I hadn’t, until now, considered our time together a waste, but it seems as though my efforts have been just that. You’ve been feeling this way for weeks, have you? Well, why are you here, then? Why did you come tonight at all if all of my friends ignore you and all of my attention is so unwanted? If the time we spend together makes you feel so awful, why have you waited this long to say something? You disappeared very early this evening; I tried looking for you everywhere. You said you were getting a drink and then I didn’t see you again. Perhaps it’s not that my attention is unwanted but that you’ve found someone else whose attention you prefer? Were you just putting up with me for long enough to find a higher roller, someone richer, or more famous perhaps? Am I a step on your ladder to the top? You have never, until tonight, given me a reason not to trust you, but you have to admit that this is rather out of the blue and your behaviour at the party was… not very polite. You abandoned me-“

You scoff at that, unable to stop yourself. A bead of sweat rolls down your back. Hanjae raises his eyebrows and waits for you to explain yourself. You’ve no idea how. You say nothing. You’re the first to break eye contact and you look at the ground, then the window, the desk, anywhere but Hanjae’s face.

“Fine,” he says. “Have it your way. What a horrible boyfriend I was to you, to treat you to presents and dinners and parties, to be so impressed by you that I want to show you off to everyone I know, to speak English with you and help you with Korean, to help you get settled in, to give you a social life, to show you what Seoul has to offer, what I have to offer, to never treat you like-“

“A person. You didn’t treat me like a person, Hanjae. I’m not a prize to show off; I’m a person first, not an object.” Your heart is hammering in your chest and you can feel tears pricking in your eyes. How can you get him to understand?

“Oh, I objectify you?” It is his turn to scoff. “And yet I am the one who has been used.”

You don’t know what to say to that.

“No, I- it’s- we- I-“

“Whatever, you can leave now.” He turns his back on you and picks up his phone again. He turns around with the phone to his ear and nods at the door, shooing you away. You turn around and leave the office on trembling legs. As soon as you step into the lift to go back down, the tears come. You’re not even sure why you’re crying; you wanted this after all. It was just horrible. You feel sticky with sweat all over, and shaky with the stress of it. You know that Hanjae isn’t right, saying those things about you, and he was lashing out defensively, but it hurt all the same. Or maybe he is a little bit right. You said yourself that he’s given you so much, access to things and people and places you wouldn’t have had otherwise; you said yourself that you enjoyed that. Maybe you are in the wrong, at least a little bit. You both are, you suppose. You exit the lift and walk briskly out of the office, not turning to look at the receptionist on your way out in case she sees you crying. You step out of the door and hide behind a pillar, catching your breath, drying your tears and trying to put on a happy face. Leaning against the cold stone of the wall, you close your eyes and take a deep breath.

“____?”

Shit. Jungkook is right there in front of you, looking concerned.

“Are you ok? What happened?”

You shake your head and hold up your hands.

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” You stand up straight and give yourself a body shake. “Honestly, it’s fine.”

“Do you want me to take you home?”

You can’t think of much worse than going home to your poky apartment to spend the rest of your night miserable and alone.

“No… Can we, can we get a drink? Do you want to get a drink?”

Jungkook grimaces slightly. “Ah, that’s kind of difficult for me. I can’t really just go to a bar on a Friday night, y’know?”

Your heart sinks; of course he doesn’t want to go to a bar with you.

“We could have a drink at my house, if you want?” he offers.

Your heart rises. God, yes, please.

You drive back to Jungkook’s apartment in silence. The presence of the driver makes you feel somehow inhibited, self-conscious. You feel conspicuous, even though you’re sure the driver couldn’t care less about who you are or what you’re doing there. He’s just doing his job. You, nevertheless, don’t want to say anything yet, not until you’re alone with Jungkook. He’s scrolling on his phone, and you take the opportunity to study him more closely. His face changes with the changing light: suddenly brightly lit as you stop at traffic lights under a lamppost, then hidden in shadows. He has a kind face, open and bright, deep, soft eyes… You wanted to reach out a finger to trace his profile, the line of his lips, study him as if you were about to embark upon a masterpiece of him. Not that you would be able to capture his spirit if you tried. There’s a light in his eyes that seems to lie so deeply within them but shine so close to the surface.

You can’t work out what you’re feeling – too much, honestly. You need a minute to step back, step out of yourself – out of your life – to sort through everything that had happened. You feel a little as though you have accidentally stepped on a travelator and things are moving faster than you can keep up with. You wonder if you’ll regret any of this in the morning, if sleep will clear your mind and show your actions up as mistakes. You hope not. You think not. You catch the glint of your bracelet, still around Jungkook’s wrist and you nod to yourself. No, this – if this alone – is not a mistake.

When you arrive at Jungkook’s building, he shows you in and your mouth gapes. This was much bigger than Hanjae’s place. Wow. Just how famous was this guy? You are reminded forcefully of how little you actually know about him, whatever your feelings might be saying.

“What would you like to drink?” he asks, crouching in front of a cabinet. He opens the door to reveal all manner of spirits and liquors.

“Oh, anything,” you answer, without thinking. He laughs and you’re embarrassed by your answer but making another decision at this point feels impossible. You feel like a swan, calm on top, but flailing wildly underneath. You begin to think that maybe you should have let Jungkook take you home, so you could’ve gone to bed, or stared out of the window blankly until the sun rose. He’s too stimulating. Questions constantly rise to the surface of your mind like bubbles in boiling water: what’s his family like? What’s his favourite film? What’s his favourite food? Is he single? What’s he thinking? What does he want out of life? He’s already achieved his career dream so what’s his next dream?

He hands you a glass and you take a sip without even looking. It’s strong, good. You follow Jungkook to the sofa and flop onto it, thankful to be sitting comfortably. He asks if the drink is ok and you just nod and take another sip. You’re torn with conflicting desires: to stare at him endlessly, to fall into his chest and listen to his heartbeat, to tell him everything, to listen to him tell you everything, to kiss him, to never kiss him, to be his best friend, to fall in love with him, to fall in love with him and love him from afar from the rest of your life. It’s exquisite, the confusion, the keenness of your muddled feelings. You wonder briefly if you are just drunk but shake the thought from your head: you haven’t had that much to drink.

You drink in silence for a while and when you’ve finished, you stand. Placing your glass on the coffee table, you wander over to the bookcase, full of not books but DVDs and figurines. You scan the titles, your eyes not really seeing. They linger on a small figurine of a tiger at the edge of a shelf. You pick it up.

“Year of the tiger?” you ask, brandishing the figure at him.

“It is.” He stands and comes closer to you, taking the tiger in his hand.

“This is me,” you tell him. 24 years old, you were born two tigers ago. You take the figure back and wiggle it in his face. He laughs.

“I’m an ox,” he says, kneeling down. He opens the door of a little cabinet and reveals figurines for each of the zodiac animals. You laugh picking them up and inspecting them. He takes the ox from the cupboard and the tiger from your hand and puts them both back on the bookshelf. Feeling silly, you move the tiger and make a sound that’s neither quite a roar nor a meow as though the tiger is talking to the ox. Jungkook laughs and responds in kind, lowing deeply as he turns the ox towards the tiger. This is the sort of nonsense you need to lift you from the deep water of your confused feelings.

You move to the window as Jungkook refills your glass. It’s probably a good view that he probably paid a lot of money for but you can’t be enamoured with so many lights and so much modern architecture. You can just barely make out the dark shape of the mountains beyond and you smile; that’s more like it. Jungkook joins you at the window. You talk quietly; you don’t want to tell him that you broke up with Hanjae, because it implies something that you don’t really want to imply, but it comes out in the course of conversation and you actually feel relieved. You don’t know what Jungkook feels about it, if anything, but he seems pleased for you. You feel like everything is so fragile, delicate, precarious. You stay talking at the window for what feels like hours (maybe it is) because you feel that to move will be to ruin the moment somehow, force a shift in the atmosphere that you don’t want.

Your eyes settle on the gold chain at his wrist and your fingers reach out for it, toying with it. Jungkook’s hand moves, into yours, his fingers dancing on your palm. You flick your eyes back to his and he’s smiling at you, shy and sweet. You let him take your hand and suddenly it’s a handshake and you’re snorting, laughing, leaning towards each other as your shoulders shake. You lean your head on his shoulder as your breath comes back and Jungkook moves his hand to waist, pulls you closer to him.

He’s still smiling when you lift your head to look at him and you’re staring back at him, wide-eyed and unsure. He pulls you closer still, his arm snaking around your waist and he kisses you without hesitation. His lips are soft but he isn’t; he’s sure and confident and he brings his thumb to your chin to gently press down, gently open your mouth and let him inside. You’re responding before you’ve had the opportunity to think. Your hands grab at the collar of his shirt and you move against him, a leg between his legs, his bottom lip between your teeth. You’re dizzied and light-headed, grateful to the cool glass at your back and Jungkook’s arms secure around you.

When he pulls back, with apparent effort, he rests his forehead on yours, nudges your nose with his and looks at you from under his thick, dark lashes.

“Honestly, I’ve wanted to do that all night,” he says, his voice hushed in the silence of the apartment, and then he barely brushes his lips against yours again, as if he just can’t help himself.

If you were confused earlier, you aren’t anymore. The world around you has faded to a fuzzy, black blur, eclipsed by the soft bloomings of want in your chest.

“I’ve wanted you to do that all night,” you whisper back, aware only as you’re saying it that it’s true. You have wanted him to do that. You want him to do it again and then a whole lot more.

He takes your face in his hands and kisses you, lightly, gently.

“I don’t usually do this,” he says, eyes alighting on yours for only a second before he’s looking at your lips again. “It’s not… This isn’t like me but…”

“I know,” you reply. “Me, too.”

“I feel…”

“Something.”

“Yeah.”

Your heart skips a beat when he looks at you and the world holds its breath; you almost feel time slow down, the seconds that it takes for his hands to fall from your face, glide down your body, and encircle you again stretch into minutes. The distance between your lips – not even inches – stretches far into the horizon. You almost feel each of the chambers of your heart squeeze, a rush of warmth heating your cheeks, your chest, your core.

And then his lips are on you and you’re like a Catherine wheel, spinning and sparking and wild. Time snaps back like an elastic band and you’re frantic now, all hands and lips and tongue.

You slip your fingers into his shirt, flicking open the buttons, running your hands over his body, soft and supple and flushed. His hands push your dress higher and higher, over the slope of your hips and he lifts you, pushing you against the glass and pushing his body into yours. You can feel the arousal pooled at your core and you can feel him straining against his trousers. You’re wet like you’ve been waiting all night for it, like you’ve been anticipating this very moment since you first laid eyes on him. You push his shirt to the floor, watching it float down like a white flag of surrender: surrendering yourself to him, he to you, to this, whatever this is or could be.

“Oh, fuck, fuck.”

Soft whispers tumble from you as Jungkook’s fingers slide past your underwear and press into your wet heat. Your cunt squeezes against them and your hips cant towards him as he presses his thumb against your clit. Your whimpering, whining, mewling barely drowns out the squelch of his fingers working inside you, arousal dripping down his hand. You’re climbing steadily to your peak, moaning against his mouth as he rolls his tongue with yours. You pull on his hair, his head tipping back, his throat exposed. He looks down at you with heavy-lidded eyes and a slack jaw. Then he grins, thrumming faster, pressing harder and you’re squirming. You let go of his hair to clutch around his shoulders, holding on hard as your own head tips back, thudding against the glass.

Jungkook brings his face close to yours and nudges your nose with his, gently guiding your attention back to him. He holds your gaze as your legs quiver and shake, as your breath hitches and you close your eyes, so, so close now.

“Look at me.” His voice is low, soft, but demanding. “I want to see you… I want you to look at me when you come.”

And you do. Your eyes don’t leave his as you fall apart in his arms, pleasure coursing through you like a lightning strike. You’ve barely finished before he’s crashing his lips into you, urgent and needy and then suddenly neither of those things. He slows. He removes his fingers from your soaking wet slip and he holds you close to him, just barely grinding his hips into you. His kiss is deep, languorous, like he’s really tasting you now. The quiet moan he makes as his tongue rolls with yours makes your heart skip a beat and you’re weak. So weak that, when he drops you, lightly, your feet returning to the floor, you almost stumble, almost fall. But he’s got you.

He pushes your dress back down, smoothing it out so he can unzip it. He finally breaks your kiss as he pulls it from your shoulders, letting it slip down your arms. You’re braless and goosebumps sprinkle all over your skin, your nipples shivering to attention. You run your hands through Jungkook’s hair as he dips his head, lowers himself to kiss your neck, your chest, to run his tongue up the underside of your breast and suck your tight little bud into his mouth. The glass at your back is cold but he is so warm in front of you.

He drops to his knees, hooks his fingers into the waistband of your underwear and pulls them to the floor. You step out and he flings them away.

“I want to make you come again.”

He looks up at you and his eyes are wide, imploring, asking, seeking, searching and it’s all you can do to just nod. You’ve had one-night stands and hook-ups and situationships and even boyfriends who haven’t said that to you, who haven’t cared enough to try for one, let alone more.

He’s still looking at you when he puts his mouth on you and runs his tongue through your folds. You let your head fall back again, eyes to the ceiling. Jungkook grunts, the vibration against you a little shock. You look back down at him and he nods, swirling his tongue around your clit, and you understand: he wants you to look at him, he wants to see you and wants you to see him seeing you, as you have all evening. Because he does. See you. He sees you like no one else has. You can already feel it bubbling up within you. You can sense his soul reaching out to yours as yours reaches back to him. You think to yourself that you would probably have fallen in love with him even if he weren’t so good at—

“Oh, fuck, Jungkook. Fuck. Yes, like that.”

He’s fucking you with his fingers again with his mouth sealed around your clit, the soft plane of his tongue pressing against it, sucking and then lapping. You grab onto his hair, hard, grounding you, something, anything to tether you to this world as you feel yourself floating away.

He groans and you understand his instruction, having to drag your eyes back to his. His brows are furrowed, eyes shining bright. Looking into his eyes at this moment is like falling into an abyss. Tumbling and twisting, your body writhes with pleasure, shuddering against the window as you come again, a cry strangled in your throat, legs shaking and then you’re literally falling, sliding down the glass. Jungkook follows you down, his fingers still pressing against you as he kisses up your stomach, your chest, and then he’s holding you. You’re in his arms and he’s kissing you, your own arousal all over his lips and his tongue.

“You ok?” he asks, his voice thick and low.

You couldn’t speak. Could only take his face between your palms and kiss him again. He lifts you up into his lap, so you’re straddling him, knees either side of his hips, and you can feel him, pressing against his trousers, trapped and tensed. You sit down a little further and roll your hips over him; he groans into your mouth and his hands on your glutes squeeze tight.

“Jungkook,” you whisper and he whispers your name back. “Please.”

He lifts you from his lap and kneels up, hands working at his belt and his zip. He stands to shuck them down his legs and kicks them off. You look up at him and ask,

“Do you have…?”

He nods, crossing the room to his wallet on the sideboard by the door. You press your hands against the cool glass of the window, but rather than cooling you, it warms, too. There is heat all over you, burning around you.

Jungkook returns and falls to his knees, condom in hand. He hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers and mumbles, rolling his eyes at himself as he stands once more to push them all the way down and off. You giggle, reaching out for him, rising on your knees as he slides the rubber over his length. He pulls you to your feet and cages you in against the window, lips capturing yours.

He bites down on your lower lip and you can feel him at your entrance. He’s rubbing his length along your slick slit and you’re whimpering, walls fluttering, heart racing. He breaks the kiss to look you in the eye as he pushes into you. A soft gasp leaves you and your hands circle tight around his biceps. You can feel him slow, his eyes watching you carefully now.

“No, don’t stop, don’t stop. It feels good. Please.”

He continues, still slowly, and, when he’s all the way in, he kisses you again, pressing his body against yours.

“Jungkook,” you breathe, but whatever you were about to say disappears into a moan as he drags his cock out and then pushes back in. He moans back and brings a hand to your breast, his thumb rubbing light circles against your pert nipple. You’re already not sure how you’re still standing and then he lowers his lips to your neck and sucks at just exactly the right spot. Your legs tremble and your cunt quivers and you feel his hot breath against your skin as he chuckles.

“You like that, huh?”

“Yes.”

He says no more and his lips return to the sweet spot on your neck. You cling to him, gripping tightly, every pass of the head of his dick against your g-spot a test of your strength, fading rapidly as you start to drown in him. He thrusts deep and slow with little grunts of effort, like he’s holding back.

“Jungkook, I—”

“Yes?”

He’s looking at you again and, up close like this, he takes your breath away.

“I want more. More. I-… I can’t stand, but I wan—oh.”

He doesn’t even let you finish before he’s grabbing you, his hands at the backs of your thighs lifting you, taking all your weight onto him. You wrap your legs around him and he moves faster now, harder, looking down at where he disappears into you. He’s more vocal, louder, as he fucks you into the window and the sound of him, his pleasure, his pleasure in you, stirs you. You’re fucked out and weak but your desire renews your force. You squeeze your walls against him and he curses.

“Shit.”

You do it again and a tiny chuckle bubbles up in his throat.

“Baby, you are dangerous. You’re—fuck, hngh—you’re going to make me come.”

He’s panting and breathy and his hair sticks to his forehead. You wrap you arms around his neck and kiss his cheek, his jaw, bite at his earlobe.

“Isn’t that the point?” you whisper.

A shudder runs through him and he growls, his grip on you tighter, even painfully tight. You pull back to look at him and his eyes are black, his jaw set, his brow furrowed. But he’s still looking at you; his eyes aren’t glazed, aren’t elsewhere, aren’t looking through you. He’s seeing you and you feel naked but not afraid, not exposed. You hold his face and kiss him and he grunts, groans; it’s open-mouthed and sloppy, your breath mingling as your tongues slide past and over each other.

He pulls away and rests his forehead on yours and his stare is so intense, from that alone you would know he was close. He’s cursing lightly, repeatedly, fucking you hard, and then he’s coming, too, with a shudder and an animal groan, guttural and low.

He lowers you both down to the floor and lays you down, kissing you lightly, almost politely, as he brushes your hair from your face. He turns away and stands, disposing of the used condom and grabbing the blanket from the sofa. You just watch him return to you, settling next to you on the floor, covering both your bodies.

You look at the window where your heat and sweat have condensed in an already fading cloud. You laugh and point it out; he laughs, too.

“It’s almost gone already,” he says, watching it shrink, disappear, self-effacing.

You hum. This is usually when you’d feel awkward, make a show of being polite, get up and go but you don’t want to leave; you want to stay right where you are and watch the sun rise with him. You want to yawn and stretch yourself like a cat before curling against him and sleeping through the morning. You want to kiss him both goodnight and good morning. You look at him looking at the window and imagine an entire life with him, spanning years and decades in a second. Your heart beats heavy in your chest and you wonder if he can feel it, if he feels it, too.

When he finally looks back at you, you know. He kisses you like you’re precious, gently traces the shapes of your face with featherlight fingers. You shiver and he pulls you closer into his warm body, pulls the blanket tighter around you.

“Y’know,” he says, pausing to kiss you again. “I’m really glad I went to that party.”

Ruined Right (m) - JJK

Your boyfriend’s back to you on a break—bigger, stronger, and all yours. In other words, you’re making up for the lost time in the hottest, messiest way possible.

Pairing - bf!Jungkook x gf!Reader

Genre - 18+ established relationship au, fluff, smut MDNI

Warnings - hard dom!Jk, sub!reader, Explicit smut - unprotected, protected sex, oral (m&f receiving), hair pulling, light choking, fingering, edging, overstimulation, head pusher Jk🥵, gagging, marking, mild degradation, doggy, man handling, rough sex, (is black lace a warning?), aftercare.

Wc - 4k

a/n - have you'll seen Jungkook's vdos from a concert he attended recently.. I mean.. my man is definitely hUge🫠 anyways here's a little treat for making HOTM a hit🤗 nfhhdhjakq posted this in a hurry enjoy

Masterlist

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Jungkook is attending a concert tonight.

You’re curled up on your couch, scrolling through Twitter and Instagram, and there he is. Blurry, low-quality videos flood your feed—Jungkook in the audience, dressed in a black leather jacket and that ridiculously cute brown fur hat.

He had told you earlier that he’d be attending, and now that you’re seeing him, it’s impossible to ignore how much he’s changed. His body is massive now—so much broader, so much bigger. Sending the entire internet into a meltdown.

"WTF is he eating in the military??"

"Hobi really meant it when he said Jungkook is HUGE now. I can’t breathe."

The tweets keep rolling in, people thirsting over his military physique, but none of them know what you know. None of them know that after the concert, after months of being apart, Jungkook is coming to you.

It’s been so long since you’ve seen each other. In the beginning, when he first enlisted, you managed to meet a couple of times. But then life got in the way—his schedule, your schedule, time slipping through your fingers. Just glimpses from video calls. And now, after months of waiting, you’re finally going to see him.

You swallow hard, your heart racing.

Because if Jungkook looks this good in a grainy fan video…you can’t even imagine what it’ll be like when he’s standing right in front of you.

Your phone vibrates. Your boyfriend's name on the screen.

Kook: On my wayyyyyyy 🏃

You stand up, suddenly restless. You move to the mirror, running your fingers through your hair, adjusting your clothes, smoothing your hands over your skin.

Anticipation buzzing under your skin. you don’t have to wait much longer. You keep checking your phone, hands a little clammy, nerves thrumming in your stomach from excitement. It’s been so long. Too long.

The doorbell rings.

Your heart jumps. Running a quick hand through your hair, and you head for the door.

The second the door swings open, you don’t even give yourself time to process. He’s here.

Jungkook barely gets a breath in before you launch yourself at him, arms wrapping around his neck, legs instinctively locking around his waist. A surprised chuckle rumbles from his chest as his strong hands catch you with ease, holding you up like you weigh nothing.

“Woah—someone missed me,” he teases, his voice rich with amusement, but there’s no mistaking the warmth in his tone.

“Of course I did,” you mumble against his skin, planting kisses all over his face—his jaw, his cheeks, his nose, anywhere your lips can reach. You feel the way his body shakes slightly with laughter, his grip on you tightening as he walks inside, shutting the door behind him without letting you go.

His scent surrounds you, warm and familiar, but there’s something different now—he’s bigger, his muscles even firmer beneath your touch, his frame broader than before. You pull back just enough to look at him properly, taking in the way his eyes soften as he gazes at you.

“Damn, baby,” he murmurs, his lips curving into a grin. “You’re not even gonna let me breathe first?”

“Not a chance,” you whisper before pressing your lips to his, your fingers threading through his oh so short hair as he holds you impossibly close.

His lips move against yours, slow at first, savoring, but then he tightens his grip, fingers pressing into your thighs as he deepens the kiss. His tongue brushes against yours, and you whimper into his mouth, your body pressing closer—desperate to just feel him.

Jungkook groans lowly, pulling back just enough to rest his forehead against yours, his breath hot against your lips. “Fuck, baby… you have no idea how much I needed this.”

You swallow, heart pounding. “Then don’t hold back.”

His jaw clenches not wasting a second.

Before you can even process it, Jungkook is carrying you straight to the bedroom.

His lips find yours again, rougher this time, his breathing heavy as he devours your mouth. You gasp against him, fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer.

By the time he reaches the bed, you’re dizzy from the kiss, from the sheer heat of his body surrounding you. He lowers you onto the mattress, but before you can even catch your breath, he’s on you—caging you in,  hands already roaming.

“Fuck,” he mutters, voice strained as he drags his lips along your jaw, down your neck. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.”

His teeth graze your skin, and your body reacts instantly, arching beneath him, a soft whimper slipping past your lips.

Jungkook grins against your throat. “Missed me that much, baby?”

His tone is teasing, but the way his hands are gripping you—tells you he’s just as desperate as you are.

You don’t bother answering. Instead, you pull him down, crashing your lips against his, pouring every ounce of pent-up longing into the kiss.

It’s messy, desperate, your fingers immediately working to shove his jacket off his shoulders. He lets out a low chuckle, amused by your urgency, but he doesn’t stop you. He shrugs out of the jacket with ease before tossing it aside.

Your hands barely have time to explore before he’s pulling back, just enough to grab the hem of his t-shirt.

Your breath catches as he yanks the fabric over his head in one fluid motion, revealing the full extent of how much he’s changed.

The dim light of your room casts soft shadows over his skin, the broad set of his shoulders, the sheer size of him now.

Fuck.

Your eyes roam over him, taking in everything. The way his arms flex slightly as he tosses his shirt aside. He’s so much bigger now, so much more built than before.

Jungkook's lips curls up into a smirk, dark eyes watching you as you stare, shameless. “Like what you see?”

Your tongue darts out to wet your lips, your fingers itching to feel just how solid he’s become. Instead of answering, you reach for him, gripping his wrist and pulling him back down—You need him closer.

His hands move immediately, one gripping your waist, the other sliding up your arm.

“You’re staring too much,” he murmurs, lips brushing along your jaw before trailing down to your neck, hot and slow.

Your breath hitches as his teeth graze your skin, nails digging slightly into his shoulders, “It’s distracting.”

Jungkook exhales a quiet laugh, the sound low and knowing. With one swift tug, he pulls your shirt up and over your head, tossing it aside.

His hands freeze for a second when he sees what’s underneath.

Black lace.

Delicate, barely-there black lace lingerie—the kind that clings to your curves. The kind you’ve never worn for him before.

Jungkook’s eyes darken instantly, “Fuck.” His gaze devours you, dragging over every inch of skin, before flicking back to your face.

“You wore this for me?” His tone thick with something heavy, something raw.

You nod, heat creeping up your neck, but his reaction makes you bolder. “Wanted to surprise you.”

Jungkook exhales sharply through his nose. “Baby…” He shakes his head slightly, his smirk returning, darker this time.

His hands slip to your shorts, hooking his fingers into them. Slow.

“You have no fucking idea what you just started."

“Off,” he mutters. “Now.”

And when you lift your hips, letting him strip them away, his eyes radiate just one thing—like he’s about to ruin you. Ruin you so right.

His hands hover over your skin, not quite touching yet, tongue swiping over his lower lip, eyes roaming over you, “You’re fucking dangerous,” he mutters, mostly to himself.

His hands move—gripping, spreading. Tracing their way up to your hips, dragging his fingers along the delicate lace, making sure you feel every single movement. The contrast of his rough touch against the soft fabric sends a shiver through you, your body reacting without hesitation.

“You like this?” he murmurs, his fingers teasing over the thin strap at your hip, “Wearing something this pretty—just for me?”

You barely manage a nod before he’s leaning down again, lips pressing against your stomach, open-mouthed kisses trailing lower.

His teeth graze against the sensitive fabric, right over your heat.

Your whole body jerks. A choked gasp leaves your lips.

"Relax, baby," he murmurs, his breath hot, teasing.

Jungkook’s grip tightens around your thighs, keeping them firmly in place over his shoulders. His breath warm against the soaked fabric of your lace.

His fingers slide along the delicate material, pressing just lightly over your heat, just enough to make you whimper.

His tongue flicking out just enough to make your thighs tremble.

Your frustration bubbling in your throat. “Jungkook—”

“Hm?” He looks up, smirking, eyes dark and playful.

You glare at him, panting slightly.

Jungkook chuckles, the sound deep, dangerous.

“Jungkook, please—”, you finally breathe out.

His hands flex against your thighs. “Please what?”

You swallow hard, desperate now. “Please—please touch me. No more teasing, just—”

You don’t even get to finish. Jungkook shoves the lace aside in an instant, his mouth finally pressing against your bare heat. Hot. Wet. Messy.

You cry out. He devours you whole.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans against you, hands holding you down for him. “Should’ve begged sooner.”

Your back arches off the bed, a choked moan spilling from your lips as heat floods through your veins. His tongue moves with purpose, licking up every bit of your desperation like he’s been starving for this.

“You taste so fucking good,” he mutters against you, his voice raspy. His pace steadily increasing until you’re a mess beneath him, gasping, panting.

It’s too much.

Your fingers dig into his scalp, pulling him closer, your hips moving without thinking, chasing that high that’s so, so close.

“J-Jungkook—,” you breathe out, desperate now.

And then—he pulls away.

Your eyes snap open. “Wh—”

He licks his lips, his chin glistening, smirking as he watches you. Your chest rises and falls rapidly, your legs still trembling—

“Not yet,” his eyes dark, thumb lazily tracing your inner thigh, ignoring the way you whimper, squirming under him.

You glare at him, frustration bubbling over. “You—”

“Be patient,” he mutters against your skin, smirk never fading. He loves this—loves seeing you needy, wrecked for him.

His lips trail up, enjoying the way your body reacts, the way your breathing stutters the higher he goes.

“Still looking so pretty for me.”

His fingers tracing over the thin lace barely covering your breasts. You shudder.

He licks over the lace, dragging his tongue slowly over the sensitive peak, soaking the fabric, teasing you without giving you what you need.

“Jungkook—” Your voice is breathless, hands gripping his biceps, nails digging into his skin.

He hums against you, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. “So sensitive,” he murmurs, grinning as he does it again—slow, torturous.

One hand trails lower, skimming over your waist, before hooking into the waistband of your lace panties dragging them down your legs.

His hands return immediately, fingers dipping between your thighs.

“Already so wet for me,” Jungkook murmurs, his voice laced with satisfaction. “Messy little thing, aren’t you?”

He pushes a finger inside. A sharp gasp escaping your lips at how easily he slips in.

Your hands fly to his biceps, fingers gripping onto the hard muscle, holding on as he starts working you open.

Jungkook groans, feeling the way you clench around him, so warm, so tight.

“Fuck, baby,” he exhales, his forehead dropping to your shoulder as he adds another finger, stretching you perfectly, curling just right. His pace deep, perfect.

His lips attach to your neck, sucking, biting. He wants you covered in him, wants you to see the evidence of this all over your skin when he’s done.

Jungkook feels the way your grip on his biceps trembles, nails pressing into his skin.

His fingers curl, pressing against that spot that makes your back arch off the bed, a sharp moan slipping past your lips.

And the second he presses his thumb against your aching clit, a strangled gasp rips from your throat. The added pressure sends a sharp jolt of pleasure through you, your hips bucking against his hand instinctively, chasing the feeling.

“Be a good girl and come for me.”

His fingers move faster, deeper, his thumb pressing down just right.

“J-Jungkook—” you gasp, your voice breaking as your stomach tightens, heat rushing through you in waves.

He feels it—the way you clench around his fingers, your body shaking under his touch.

“That’s it,” he murmurs against your throat, marking you again, sucking another bruise into your skin. “Come for me, baby.”

The pleasure crashes into you all at once, ripping through your body like a storm, your back arching, your thighs trembling. Your grip on him tightening, holding onto him like he’s the only thing keeping you grounded.

Jungkook groans at the sight, his fingers still pumping into you, dragging out your release. His thumb giving one last, lazy stroke over your achingly sensitive clit.

Your breath comes in ragged gasps, your grip on his shoulders tight, your nails digging in as the aftershocks ripple through you.

He pulls his fingers out bringing them to his mouth.

Your eyes widen slightly, still hazy from your high, as he licks his fingers clean.

His gaze never leaves yours.

“Fuck,” he exhales, his voice deep, wrecked, utterly sinful as he sucks the last of your release from his fingers. “Always fucking sweet.”

Jungkook’s mouth is on yours the second he finishes his filthy display, kissing you deep, consuming.

His hand slides up your body, fingers slipping beneath the lace still covering your chest.

A low groan rumbles from his chest as he cups your breast, squeezing, his thumb rolling over the hardened peak, teasing. His other hand grips your waist, holding you steady beneath him.

But you’re impatient.

The heat still buzzing through your body is too much, your need for him too overwhelming.

So you push at his chest, flipping him over in one swift motion until you’re on top.

Jungkook lets out a low, dark chuckle, his hands immediately gripping your hips, his eyes burning with lust as he watches you take control.

"Impatient, are we?" he murmurs, lips curling into a smirk.

You don’t answer. Instead, you kiss him again, messy, desperate, your hands roaming over his broad chest. His hardness presses against you through his pants and you can’t ignore it any longer.

Your fingers trail down, cupping him through the fabric. A low, gravelly groan rumbles from his throat, his hips pushing up into your hand, seeking more.

“Fuck,” he hisses, head tilting back against the pillows, eyes fluttering shut for a brief second.

You don’t waste time.

Your fingers move to his zipper, pulling it down with ease, and Jungkook lifts his hips, helping you tug his pants and boxers down.

And there he is. Hard, flushed, leaking for you.

You kiss your way down his chest, your lips skimming over his abs, leaving a heated trail.

You consider teasing him—making him suffer the way he did to you. But you’re too impatient for that.

So you lick over his tip.

Jungkook’s sharp inhale is immediate.

“Fuck,” he breathes, fingers tangling into your hair, gripping tight—just enough to keep you exactly where he wants you.

You press your tongue flat against him, as you take him deeper.

His thumb strokes along your cheek.

“Just like that, baby,” he mutters, voice thick with praise.

A sharp curse spills from his lips, his hand tightening in your hair, his hips pushing forward just enough to make you gag around him.

His thumb wiping at the corner of your mouth.

“Messy,” he murmurs, voice filled with dark amusement, his thumb pressing against your lower lip, feeling how wet and swollen it’s become. “God, you look so fucking pretty like this.”

Your thighs clenching at his words.

Jungkook’s grip in your hair tightens, pushing you down further.

Your throat tightens, a strangled gag ripping from you as your fingers instinctively tap at his thigh.

His hold loosens, his cock slipping slightly from your mouth as you gasp for air, your eyes watering as you look up at him.

Jungkook exhales heavily, his hand sliding from your hair to cradle your jaw instead, thumb stroking softly against your damp lips.

“Shit—sorry, baby,” he murmurs, but the smirk tugging at his lips tells you he’s not really sorry.

Your breath is still uneven, but you don’t hesitate—you lower yourself again, wrapping your lips back around him, taking him as deep as you can.

Jungkook groans, his fingers slipping back into your hair.

You can tell—he’s close.

The way his thighs tense, the way his groans become rougher, deeper, the way his fingers start to tug at your hair just a little more—

And then, he pulls you off him.

Yanks your head back, his cock slipping from your mouth, glistening, swollen.

His eyes burn into yours, wild, dark, filled with something dangerous.

“On all fours.”

Your stomach flutters violently, your legs weak, but you do as he says.

You shift, turning around, your hands pressing into the mattress.

His hands slide down your waist, fingers gripping, kneading, as he takes in the view.

“Fuck, baby,” he exhales, his voice filled with pure hunger.

You whimper softly, shifting impatiently, feeling the heat of his body behind you, but not enough of him.

“Needy?” His tone is mocking, but when his hand slides between your thighs, fingers teasing along your slick folds, his breath catches slightly. “God, you’re dripping for me.”

You push back against his touch, desperate for more, but he grips your hip tightly, stopping you.

“Be good,” he warns, voice low, authoritative.

You can hear it—the slick sounds of him jerking himself, as he grinds the tip against your soaked folds, teasing you mercilessly.

“Fuck,” he mutters, his voice rough, strained. “Look at you… so fucking ready for me.”

You whimper, trying to push back onto him, but his grip tightens.

Reaching over, he grabs his pants, fishing out a foil packet. You glance over your shoulder, just in time to see him rip it open with his teeth, rolling the condom onto his cock, his eyes locked onto yours the entire time.

The sight alone has your stomach tightening, your thighs clenching.

He drags himself up and down slowly, deliberately, coating himself in your slick.

You whine, pushing back onto him again, but he just chuckles.

“Impatient little thing,” he murmurs, his lips suddenly right against your ear. His teeth graze the shell, biting down lightly before he soothes the sting with his tongue.

“You wanted this, baby,” he breathes, voice deep, velvety, dripping with control. “Now, you’re gonna take it.”

He pushes in.

A gasp rips from your throat, your fingers clenching the sheets as he stretches you open, filling you inch by inch.

Jungkook groans behind you, his grip on your hip tightening, his cock throbbing as he bottoms out, completely buried inside you.

“Fucking hell,” he mutters through gritted teeth, his head falling back for a second, his body trembling slightly as you both adjust to the feeling.

His hips pull back, just enough to make you feel the drag—before he slams back in, a sharp thrust that knocks the breath from your lungs.

A shattered moan escapes you, your body rocking forward, but Jungkook doesn’t let you go.

Instead—he grabs a fistful of your hair, yanking you upright, your back flush against his solid, burning chest.

His mouth is on you immediately, kissing, sucking, biting at your throat, his free hand spreading over your stomach, pulling you tighter against him.

“Tell me how much you missed me, baby,” he murmurs against your already bruised skin, his hips still snapping into you, deep, devastating.

You bite your lip, smirking slightly despite the overwhelming pleasure, deciding to test him, just a little.

“No,” you breathe, teasing, taunting.

Jungkook freezes for half a second—before he groans, low and dangerous.

His hand moves up, fingers wrapping around your throat, firm—just enough to make you feel it, just enough to remind you who’s in control.

A dark chuckle spills from his lips as he leans in, his breath hot against your ear.

“Didn’t have my cock shoved in your pussy for months, and this is how bratty you’ve become?” he mocks, his fingers squeezing slightly, his other hand gripping your waist, holding you still as he thrusts into you harder, deeper, punishing.

His grip on your throat lingering for a moment before he releases you—only to push you down, pressing your head into the pillow.

His hips snap forward, knocking the air from your lungs. Your moan is muffled against the pillow, but it doesn’t matter—he hears it anyway.

You’re a mess beneath him, your hands gripping at the sheets, your body rocking forward with each powerful thrust.

“Feel that?” he pants, taunting, his hand sliding from your back down to your ass, squeezing. “That’s what you’ve been missing, baby.”

Jungkook groans at the way you clench around him, his grip on you tightening, his pace turning brutal, relentless.

“That’s right,” he mutters, teeth gritted, voice wrecked. “Fucking take it.”

Jungkook feels the way your body tenses, the way your walls flutter around him, and he knows—you’re close.

So he moves his free hand, slipping between your legs, fingers finding your clit.

A sharp, wrecked gasp rips from your throat as he circles it, firm with his pounding thrusts.

“Come for me, baby,” he groans, his voice low, commanding.

Your legs shake violently, your thighs tightening, and then—you snap.

Pleasure crashes through you, blinding, overwhelming, your moans breaking apart as your body convulses beneath him. Your walls pulse around him, dragging him deeper into your orgasm, milking every last wave of bliss.

But Jungkook doesn’t stop.

His hips keep slamming into you, riding out your high, his movements still relentless, consuming.

Your body jerks, overstimulated, the pleasure unbearable now.

“Too much—” you choke out, your voice broken, shaking.

Jungkook leans over you, panting, pressing his lips to your shoulder, his voice rough, strained.

“One more, baby,” he murmurs against your sweaty skin, his breath hot, desperate. “Give me one more.”

You whimper, shaking your head weakly, but he feels the way your body reacts, the way you’re already spiraling again, trapped in his rhythm, in his control.

And then—it hits you.

Your second orgasm slams into you suddenly, shattering through your already wrecked body. You cry out, your walls clenching down on him, and that’s all it takes—

Jungkook groans, his hips slamming into you one last time, burying himself deep as his release finally overtakes him.

A low, wrecked moan leaves his lips as his body shudders against yours, his fingers digging into your hips, holding you tight as he spills into the condom.

For a moment, neither of you move, your bodies tangled, trembling, completely spent.

Jungkook exhales heavily, pressing one last, lingering kiss to your shoulder, his hands soothing over your body, grounding you.

“Fuck,” he breathes, his voice hoarse, satisfied, full of something deeper. “You’re… unreal."

You let out a weak, breathless laugh, turning your head slightly to meet his half-lidded, blissed-out gaze.

You both collapse onto the bed, Jungkook still buried deep inside you, your bodies tangled, sticky with sweat, breathing heavy, uneven.

Neither of you speak for a while, just taking your time, letting the warmth of each other sink in. His arms wrap around you, pulling you close, his chest rising and falling against your back.

After a few moments, his lips find your skin.

Soft, warm kisses pressed to your shoulder, your neck, your jaw. His hands glide over your waist, soothing.

“You okay, baby?” he murmurs against your skin, his voice softer now, filled with something tender.

You nod, turning your face slightly toward him, feeling a little shy now that the intensity has faded.

Jungkook’s lips brush against your temple as he murmurs, “Was I too rough?” His voice is softer.

You shake your head, feeling a little shy now, but your voice is steady when you say, “No… I loved it.”

A low chuckle rumbles from his chest.

Slowly, he pulls out, making you shudder slightly at the loss of him. He presses one last kiss to your shoulder before getting up, disposing of the condom.

He returns—with a warm towel cleaning you up carefully, gently, his touch soft, eyes flickering up to yours every now and then, making sure you’re okay.

Once he’s done, he tosses the towel aside and slides back into bed, immediately pulling you into his arms. His body is warm, solid, safe, fingers tracing light patterns over your bare back.

For a while, you both just lay there, wrapped up in each other.

After a moment, you murmur into his chest, “When are you leaving?”

Jungkook sighs softly, his grip on you tightening slightly, like he doesn’t want to answer.

“Tomorrow morning,” he finally says, voice quieter.

Your stomach sinks a little, but before you can dwell on it, he tilts your chin up, making you meet his gaze.

A small smirk tugs at his lips, fingers sliding down your spine, slow and teasing.

“But,” he whispers, his voice low, filled with promise, “I still have time to make the most of tonight.”

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we are all museums of fear 🤍🍂

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