What We Need
What We Need

[Summary]: You and Jungkook are polar opposites. Except in the bedroom. You two agreed to just sex after breaking up, realizing that your personalities weren't working in the dating world. But the world has warned you that fuckbuddies never truly stay as fuckbuddies.
[Theme]: Non Idol AU, Ex's AU, Fuckbuddies AU, Enemies to Lovers(?) AU
[Rating]: 18+ for sexual themes and innuendoes. Spanking, marking, kissing, nasty time. Demon JK.
[Word Count]: 2,143
[A/N]: I am filthy, sorry ㅠㅠ.
This is a constant cycle.
You get horny. You text him. He comes over. He fucks your brains out. He leaves.
Or, vice versa.
This is something you both agreed on a while ago.
Dating didn’t work out for the two of you. You tried, but your personalities clash in the worst possible way. He’s too reactive — everything was either offensive or annoying to him. Especially when it came to jealousy. The man couldn’t stand just a look from another man in your direction. It blew all his fuses, and cut your own short just trying to understand him. On the other side, you hated talking about anything at all. Half of his reaction came from the fact that you couldn’t explain why you were angry about it. It left both of you frustrated. You felt he should have known without you having to explain the obvious, and he felt that his feelings and reactions were valid, even if it was over just a small issue.
Just about the only thing you both agreed on was sex. After you broke up, the two of you couldn’t deny that no one else matched up to the way you two fucked. You tried another partner, but he couldn’t give you the same satisfaction that Jungkook gave you. Apparently, Jungkook was in the same boat.
Putting all your hatred for the man beside you, there’s no denying how attracted you are to each other and how well you two click in the bedroom. That’s obvious now more than ever, in the depths of his sheets, with his mouth on your clit and your fingers tugging on his hair.
“Ffuckk,” you cry, pulling on his locks.
The man beneath you simply grips your hips tighter, digging his fingers into your skin. He’ll surely leave marks, and you smile knowing that he knew you’d like that.
Jungkook moans into your pussy, his tongue delving into you every so often before he swirls around your clit in the way you like. The hotness of his tongue fills you with a fuzzy warmth at the pit of your stomach with every movement, moan, and grip he enforces onto your body. He’s been at it for 10 minutes, eating you like you’re Thanksgiving dinner. There are juices dripping from his chin onto the hardwood floor, but he doesn’t care. He’s determined to make you reach another high. He’ll make it happen, and you know it.
You almost feel yourself there, and you try to pull his head away at the feeling. But he’s too strong for you; your efforts are completely fruitless against his torture.
“K-Kook,” you gasp, scared of the orgasm you feel looming over you. “T-too much.”
He simply shakes his head, knowing you can take it. He hums against you, adding two fingers into you, and curling them upwards into your g-spot while focusing all his tongue technology on your clit.
This seems to do it, and he moans into you when you cum for him, spilling out onto his fingers just the way he likes it. You cum saying his name over and over again, sending him into a praise-kink frenzy with the way you chant his name like it’s the only word you know.
Jungkook pulls away from you, and quickly takes off his black Calvins before he rests a knee on the bed. You shiver at the cold air hitting your pussy, a stark difference from the fire that his tongue played over your folds just moments ago.
“You good?” he asks, wiping your juices from his mouth with the back of his forearm. He pumps his dick for a second, feeling dominant knowing he got your body to look as fucked out as it looks below him.
You catch your breath for a few moments, placing your arm over your eyes as you pant into the air. You hear Jungkook laugh at you, and you almost say something before you hear him ripping open a condom and sliding it on.
You take your arm off your eyes, staring at him upsettingly.
“That’s my favorite part,” you frown, sad that he didn’t allow you to slide the condom on. Typically, you give him a good sloppy-toppy before you slide the condom on in return for eating you out to hell and back. So you feel a little confused as to why he wouldn’t want one this time.
In fact, this isn’t the first time he’s cut your time together a little shorter than it usually is. These days, he’s been leaving out an activity or two in your typical fuck schedule, cutting the time in half. You hate that it makes you feel scared. You’re not together anymore, and you shouldn’t be surprised that he probably has other dates and girls to fuck after this. You hate that you don’t like that idea.
“Sorry,” he laughs. “Do you want to?”
“Well,” you sigh, turning over onto your stomach. “I did, but let’s not waste a condom. It’s fine.”
Jungkook strokes his cock at the sight of you. This is his favorite position by far. Something about it makes him cum in seconds, and he doesn’t know why.
“Next time,” he promises.
But you roll your eyes, remembering that he had said that the last time he denied you.
“Sure,” you say dryly.
Jungkook slaps your ass hard, and you jolt, looking back at him with a furrow between your eyebrows. He does it again harder, and you gush out. Unwilling to give him the satisfaction of the fact that you liked it, you attempt to reprimand him, but he’s already slipping into you, giving you no time to adjust to his size and his speed. He pistons into you, gripping your waist hard and using it for support as he slams his hips against your ass.
“Hmm,” he whines between a thrust. You can imagine his face right now, tilting his head back at the feeling while his eyes shut in an attempt to control himself. “B-best pussy, ffuckk.”
You nearly scream into the mattress, trying to hold in your third orgasm for longer. He fits you like a puzzle when you’re like this. Dick perfect for you, and body so capable of giving you what you need. He’s brutal with you, and he knows every single one of your limits. He knows how you like it, and you know how he likes it. It’s perfect...just for now.
“K-Kook,” you mewl into the back of your palm. He grabs it, placing his palm over the back of your hand and intertwining his fingers with yours. He does the same to the other one, trapping them against the sheets next to your head under his weight.
“God you’re so good,” he pants in your ear. “No one else, you hear me?”
You nod frantically, unable to produce a sound. His hair falls against your cheek, moving with his thrusts as he continues to fuck you to oblivion.
“You’re my slut, understand?” he grunts angrily, gripping your hands tighter. “No one else can fuck you like this. Only me.”
“Mmhm,” you whine, leaning your head back against his shoulder. You feel him almost kiss your neck, and you whine in disappointment when he doesn’t indulge in the opportunity.
“Fuck— say it Y/n,” he demands. He bites on your ear gently, waiting for a response. When you don’t answer, he pulls out without a warning.
“What the f—” you pout, feeling completely empty. You were almost there, and he took it away from you. These questions were typical of your fucking activities. So why he wasn’t satisfied by your answers this time leaves you unable to determine what to do next.
Looking back at him, you feel confused by his expression. But he doesn’t give you time to analyze it before he turns you over onto your back, pushing your legs up to your chest as he aligns himself up again.
“Jungkook, what are you doing?” you ask him. You two agreed not to do missionary anymore. It’s too personal for just fuck buddies. But you watch him break the rules right in front of you, and all you can do is question him, unable to find the will to stop him.
He slips into you slowly, causing you to gasp at the feeling you had forgotten this position gave you. You’re not the only one feeling the effects of it. The man before you begins to lose strength, resting his forearms on the sides of your head. He traps you with tattoos, piercings, and honey skin, leaving you to feel completely overwhelmed by the familiarity of the unfamiliarity you are experiencing with him right now.
“Say it, Y/n,” he bites on your neck.
Jungkook’s pace returns to what it was before. You find yourself grasping onto his back for support, digging your nails at the feeling that you missed so badly but couldn’t admit to him that you did.
“O-Only you, Koo,” you tilt your head back against his hand. You give him the answer he always asks for. “Only you can make me feel this w-way.”
But something in Jungkook isn’t satisfied. He suddenly gains strength again and hikes your legs over his shoulders.
“G-god,” he rolls his eyes back for a second at the feeling before looking down at you. You’re so blissed out, so satisfied and fucked to the core. He feels himself hit your cervix, prompting him to go faster and deeper than he has in months. The feeling causes you to cry from the pleasure, feeling so overwhelmed and confused by the man above you. But he doesn’t stop. In the next few moments, he sears his lips onto yours, kissing you hotly and passionately — another rule broken. Despite the forbidden, you can’t help but embrace him. Jungkook’s a good kisser, but on top of that, you really missed this with him.
You slide your hands around his neck, holding him against your lips, refusing to let him go. He’s sloppy and wet, but you don’t care. Not when it feels so good to be kissed by him again.
Jungkook feels his dick twitch harshly when you whisper his name against his lips, biting at his bottom lip a little. Kissing you sent him into a high before, but kissing you now? He forgot what it felt like, and his balls tighten just from the thought itself.
“M’ gonna cum,” he groans, head falling into your neck heavily.
“Me too,” you admit. You clutch onto him, gasping as one hand sends red streaks down his back, and the other tugs on his hair like he’s some rag doll.
You tighten around him so tightly when he begins to move faster, causing him to falter in his rhythm a little.
“S-So, tight, Y/n,” he moans. His dick twitches inside of you as you cum on his cock, forcing him to follow in his own streaks of white paint. “Fuckk,” he curses into your skin.
He rides out both of your highs, too blissed out to tell how long it’s been since the two of you came, too overwhelmed to stop.
It’s not until you push on his shoulders that he finally snaps out of it.
The two of you look at each other for a long while, ignoring his dick slowly going flaccid, and the whole area down there growing cold from the lack of friction. For a while, you watch his pupils grow to the size of nickles as he looks into your eyes. He presses his palm against your cheek, and you lean against it out of pure habit.
The action causes him to scrunch his nose in laughter. You can’t help but follow after him. You laugh with him, feeling relief that the laughter you share is both of your realizations that things can't continue like this anymore. Not when it felt too good to break the rules. Not when you realize that maybe the rules need to be broken to start something new...again.
He begins to die down his laughter for a second, still smiling, but this time not showing his teeth.
“Y-You wanna try this again?” he asks first. “I’m willing to put in the work we need.”
“If you’re willing, I’m willing,” you brush the hair out of his face.
He kisses you again, softly this time. It’s real, and it feels different from all the times he’s kissed you before. There’s truth in his words. You feel that he’s already changed already, and it inspires you to change as well. For you and for him so that the two of you can work as a couple again.
“We’re so stupid,” he laughs again, brushing his nose against yours.
“We are,” you admit with a smile.
----
[End. Do not copy. Original work of @jungkookstatts , 2023]
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More Posts from Jungkookstatts
As Thunder Rolls

[Summary]: You know Taehyung is the one. You knew it since the first day you saw him, when thunder rolled through the sky. But your lives don't collide. They might be too different to choose both.
[Theme]: Rich Reader, Law Student Reader, Construction Worker TH, Poor TH, Rich Girl Poor Boy AU
[Rating]: 18+ for sexual themes, sexual content, unprotected sex, kissing, making out, marking, angst, familial separation, topics of class, and triggering opinions of some characters
[Word Count]: 8,296
[A/N]: First TH fic!! I hope it is enjoyable~ This might be my last fic for a little bit. Going to be focusing on school and working really hard until the summertime :)
People say that when you fall in love, your life develops new meaning. They say that your life changes as you fall, and you watch it spiral out of your control over a silly feeling you can’t help.
You can say that the people, whoever they may be, are correct. Love happened to you quite unexpectedly, and completely out of the box you put your goals for the future inside.
Taehyung happened during the city's worst monsoon season in over 50 years. His rain-stained jeans and dirty white construction t-shirt clung to his skin, showing you all of his tanned glory as the rain fell angrily. You stood on the top step of your sister’s corporate building, looking down at him three steps below you.
“You got a spare umbrella, by chance?” he asked you. Caramel-colored, wet hair covered his forehead. But you could still see the discomfort in his eyes due to the harsh rain.
Looking at your own umbrella in your grip, you shook your head, telling him that this was your only one.
“You know a place around here where I can find one?” he asked.
“I’m not familiar with the area,” you explained.
“Me neither,” he smiled as he looked down at his red Converse.
There was an uncomfortable feeling in your chest. You felt bad for the guy, clearly well-underprepared for the season. Your designer coat and accessories terribly clashed with his, an obvious difference in class confronted you in the face. There was a feeling of fear, you remember. Back then, you used to be one of those people who thought terribly of people like him. Thinking that he’d ask for your Burberry umbrella and never return it. You thought maybe he’d pull you aside and forcibly rob you of your money just because his shirt had a few stains and the brand name of the city’s lower-end construction company was written on the fabric. You associated him with the worst of the worst, just because of his class. Or rather, assumed class.
But those eyes captured your soul. They were warm, and his smile sent medicine to your heart, healing all those presumed thoughts and replacing them with the benefit of the doubt.
“I think there is a 7/11 around the block,” you recalled from your memory.
Thunder rolled through the city skies, and you clutched your umbrella harder. You never liked thunderstorms. There was a sense of urgency to get home to avoid any more of this growing storm, and fast. But this guy — you wanted to continue talking to him.
He raised an eyebrow at you, looking to his left.
You raised your chest, nervously pointing in the opposite direction.
“Down there,” you corrected him.
“Ah,” he smiled. It was faint, but you noticed his upper lip formed the shape of a heart before another roll of thunder drummed through the sky. You winced, and his smile faded.
“I’ll let you be on your way, then,” he said. “Thank you.”
You nodded, and he suddenly turned his back, walking down the sidewalk in the direction of the vague 7/11 down the street. He hiked the back collar of his t-shirt over his head, creating a small hat to shield his eyes from the unwanted shower. You watched the exposed skin on the small of his back as raindrops trickled into the hem of his jeans.
Suddenly, your heart skipped in your chest, and you did something your carefully formed character would never allow.
“W-Wait,” you stumbled. The click of your heeled boots rang in your ears as you walked down the small set of stairs and onto the sidewalk.
The man turned around, his posture straightening at the sight of you.
Quickly, you went to him, covering his head with your umbrella.
“I-I’ll come with you,” you offered.
His close proximity flooded all of your senses. Your fingers visibly began to shake, and you had to remind yourself to breathe when you saw how tremendous the height difference was between the two of you.
“Thank you,” he softly said.
At that moment, you knew your life changed. You saw yourself in his eyes, maybe staring a little too long for two strangers who hadn’t even exchanged names yet. But you looked into them, and somehow the raging storm had transferred from the sky into your heart.
You became a jumbled mess after then, as Taehyung had exchanged his name with yours, along with all of his habits, hobbies, and love.
Every day after that was filled with giggles and kisses and sleepless nights wrapped in his sheets. He had shown you the other side of the world, and you accepted it with him by your side. He took things from you you couldn’t imagine anyone else being worthy enough to take. All your firsts, and what you hope, all your lasts, too.
But something had been sitting at the back of your mind ever since you laid eyes on him, creating an unsettling feeling.
He was, indeed, nowhere near the class you grew up in. Living in the worst part of the city with his younger brother and sister and parents in a small, 2-bedroom apartment. He worked overtime on most days; all of his earnings he gave to his mother was to pay rent. His brother had just become old enough to help out. However, Taehyung explained that he caught him a few times slacking — the young boy claiming that he was working but instead at the casino with his friends. His younger sister was 6 years old and by far the sweetest young girl you knew. She became someone like your own sister, someone you chose to connect with on a level you weren’t able to do with your own siblings. His father fell ill a few years ago and became unable to work a demanding job. Instead, he and his wife work at their own small grocery store on the lower level of the building down the street.
His family welcomed you generously, never once commenting on your class, never once making it a topic of conversation. They called you their daughter.
What was unsettling was not the circumstances involving his family. It was the circumstances involving your own.
You hadn’t mentioned him to your parents by choice. You knew how they would react, especially considering your father had already begun selecting the sons of his most trusted colleagues to propose a marriage. Though you are not ashamed of Taehyung, your family would most definitely be. They would never accept him as your love. It would be too tarnishing to their name, too embarrassing to taint the family with someone whose house costs less than their dining room table.
You kept Taehyung out of it, which doesn’t necessarily mean he won’t stop asking about meeting your family. He’s serious enough about you to want to take things further. But it puts you in an awkward situation, like now. Gasping into the sheets of his bed, his dick pulling out of you as cum falls down your thighs.
“Baby?” he pants, hovering over you and kissing up your shoulder to your cheek. He’s still catching his breath, as are you. He just railed the fuck out of you and still begs for conversation? You will never understand this man.
“Hm,” you ask, resting your head on your forearm in a desperate attempt to control your breathing.
“I want to meet your parents,” he bites the shell of your ear gently.
You groan loudly, tired of this topic of conversation. It seems to be the only thing on his mind these days.
In the two years you two had been dating, Tae was finally able to afford a place of his own while still helping his family. His brother stepped up and managed to land a good position at a nearby company that really helped with the family finances. Hence, Taehyung’s newfound freedom from the cramped space with his family. But ever since he moved into his new apartment two weeks ago, he’s been set on (a) “christening” every nook and cranny of his new place with you and (b) meeting your family.
“Baby, can we not talk about this right now?” you press your fingers to your temple before running them into your hair.
“We never have talked about it,” he reminds you. You pause, knowing he’s right. You’ve always swayed him away from saying anything about the topic other than simply asking to talk about it.
“Why would you want to meet my parents,” you begin. You feel him smile a little, happy to start this long-awaited talk.
“Because you met mine,” he slides his elbows under your armpits, resting his chin on your shoulder. You feel secure when he’s holding you like this, his chest embracing your back as he lets his weight rest on your body. If only the moment wasn’t ruined by the topic of conversation.
“I don’t want you to meet my parents,” you finally say. You know his heart broke a little from your words, being such a family man. But you feel obligated to be honest about this.
“What? Why not?” he crinkles his eyebrows together, pressing his nose into your cheek.
“Because, Tae,” you sigh into your palm. “They’re not…nice people.”
He lets the two of you sit in silence for a while, and you know he knows what you mean by that.
“It’s because I’m poor, isn’t it?” he finally lets out.
You grab his hand, drawing circles into his palm.
“Essentially,” you sigh. It doesn’t feel good to admit that. Disappointment floods your veins for him, wishing your family was less shallow. Maybe then, your response would have been different. “You know I don’t care about that stuff. But they…they do.”
“Your siblings?” he asks.
“They’re all like that,” you continue, playing with his knuckles. “I’m the only one, it seems, that isn’t.”
He plays with your hand, sliding into your fingers to hold it.
“Do you wish you were?” he whispers seriously.
“No,” you laugh.
Finally, you turn around in his embrace, looking at his face from beneath him. This man is truly the most gorgeous person you’ve ever laid eyes on. Your palm holds the soft skin of his cheek as you search his eyes.
“Growing up, I used to be a little bit,” you admit. “But then I came to university. And I met you,” you rub his cheek with your thumb. “And you kind of flipped my whole world around.”
“Sorry,” he smiles. “Wasn’t the plan,” he pecks your lips. “I just needed an umbrella.”
You chuckle at that, pulling his face against yours to sear your lips into his. He accepts you, breathing into the kiss with chapped cherry lips and a big stupid blush on his face.
“I just want their blessing,” he clears his throat. “I-Is all.”
“For?” you peck his lips again.
“For me to date their daughter, amongst other things,” he laughs through his nose. “It’s also been…a little while.”
You do feel bad, as he had introduced you to his family about three months into dating. It’s been two years, and your family doesn’t even know you are dating someone.
“You’ll meet them when they have a reason to meet you,” you sigh against his nose. “They’re like that. It has to be on their terms, not mine or yours.”
“Hopefully, that’s sometime soon,” he says before kissing you deeply. You let him, wanting his lips to erase the scenarios you’ve let flood into your head of Taehyung meeting your family. You kiss him, asking him to heal you again, to give you the endless positivity he has within himself. But you can’t shake it this time around. You have a bad feeling about it, every time you think about making things just that more official with your family meeting him. You know Taehyung is it for you. But will your parents accept that? Your gut twists and turns at the thought, your answer spelled out for you.
___
Law school used to be interesting.
Back when lectures were shorter and the professors actually cared about their job, you had a fun time. Now, you sit through your lectures with the palm of your hand dragging the skin of your cheek upward as you lean against it. You stare at the oldest fart of a professor talk in circles, “womp wo-womp womp”, like in the Charlie Brown phone scenes. The only thing that keeps you from dozing off is the thought of your date tonight.
Last week, Taehyung had been working at this new site at this development on the other side of the city. They put in a fountain lake, with three willow trees (your favorite). Your boyfriend, of course, knew this and set up the idea of a picnic date along the new Willow Tree Lake. Just the thought alone makes you giddy.
These days, Taehyung has been working terrible overtime in an area near campus. Something about the pipes being plugged with slow-forming concrete from a newer company that started off just a few months ago. They fucked up a lot of the city’s piping, and of course, the company Tae works for has been assigned to fix all of their damage.
Needless to say, you feel like you haven’t seen him in ages. Only quick cell phone calls and tired texts in the small hours of the morning and night. You miss him terribly, and your body springs to life when the professor calls the end of the lecture. It’s your last one of the day, and you nearly run out to make your way to your car, ready to start preparing for your date tonight.
You’re met with a surprise, however, when you exit your dorm.
A chalky hand grabs onto your wrist, intertwining his fingers with yours, before pulling you into his chest.
“Hi, baby,” he smiles sheepishly.
“Tae!” you squeal, letting go of his hand and jumping into his arms. You wrap your arms around his neck, his own around your waist as he spins you in the open air of the campus. You giggle against him, quietly screaming when he goes a little fast. Eventually, he lets your feet feel the ground again, and you feel a strong urge to kiss him. It’s been so long.
“You’re so chalky,” you brush at his face, white powder smearing on his skin.
With that, he shakes out his hair onto yours, white dust falling onto your skin.
“Ah! Tae!” You shield your face from his assault. But he’s unrelenting, wrapping you in his arms and pulling you in for a kiss.
You let him kiss you, his big hands stroking your cheek. You don’t let him go on for too long, still not one to be too fond of PDA like he is.
“Oh, fuck,” Taehyung’s smile fades when he looks at your dress.
“Wha—” you look down at your dress, your white Chanel dress, covered in soot and powder and dirt, transferred from his clothes onto yours. “Oh.”
“Yeah, ‘oh’,” he gulps, running his hands through his hair. “I’m sorry, Y/n. I wasn’t thinki—”
“It’s okay,” you smile, holding his hand. “Nothing my dad won’t buy a carbon copy of with a good excuse. To him, I fell. Plain and simple.”
Your words don’t do much, his sorry expression written all over his face still. You cup his cheek, reassuring him.
“What are you doing here, anyways?” you change the subject.
“The pipe issue I told you about ended up going into some apartment building. They sent me up there and the ceiling fell in. Hence all the…white stuff and dust,” he shows you his powdery hands, as if his cheeks and hair weren’t enough to prove his story. “Anyway, the civil engineers ended up needing to go back to the main building and find a new plan to go about it. So they sent us all home early. Thought I would come and surprise you.”
“It worked,” you kiss him again.
“I should probably go though,” he cuts the time short. “I want to shower before our date.”
“That would be nice, you’re right,” you laugh. “I’ll see you at 7, then?”
“Mhm,” he squeezes your hand again before looking down at your dress one last time. You can tell he’s still beating himself up over it when he tightly runs his hands through his hair and sends you a tight-lipped smile as if still saying sorry. You send him one back, letting him know it’s okay. And with that, he leaves your presence.
You’re alone until you reach home a little past 4. When you walked into your house, the last thing you were expecting was your eldest sister, brother, and parents waiting for you in the dining room.
“D-Did I miss something?” you laugh awkwardly. They all seem to be looking at you, disappointment or disgust written on their faces at the sight of your dress. You do your best to hide it with your purse.
“No,” your sister starts. “But we seem to be missing the part where you let dirty construction workers make out with you in public.”
You feel your heart sink to your feet, a cold heat spreading throughout your body.
“Susanna,” you pinch the skin between your eyebrows. “It’s not like that.”
“Please, enlighten us, then,” she snobs.
You take a breath, ready to explain yourself. But your father stops you.
“Invite the boy over,” he calmly states.
“What?” all four of you say at once.
“Dad, are you crazy?” your brother laughs. “He’s a construction worker.”
“Ren, please,” you attempt to control your anger. You don’t like the way they are talking about him right now. Only mentioning his job and ignoring the rest.
“What, don’t like me talking down on your pet?” he smiles, doing his best to get under your skin. It’s working, that’s for sure.
“Seriously, darling, what are you thinking?” your mother puts her hand on your father's arm.
“The boy clearly has feelings for my daughter,” he sets down his brandy on the dining table. “And, if I’m not mistaken, she has the same feelings.”
Your sister looks at you in disgust, wondering how you could ever fall for someone so low class.
“Besides, he owes me a good explanation for destroying your clothes,” he clears his throat. “That was custom designed.”
—
You run to your car after the ‘meeting’ your family welcomed you home with. Your hands shake and tremble, trying to start the car without bursting into tears.
Without even calling him, you race to Taehyung’s apartment, knocking on his door with panic laced in every vein of your body.
He opens it, a big smile warming your heart. But it quickly fades at the pale look on your face.
“What’s wrong,” he pulls you into his apartment.
He’s showered since you last saw him. He changed into his PJs, not yet ready to get into his outfit for your date tonight. On any other day, you would be struck with the comfy boyfriend look, ready to pounce into his arms and hold him close until the sun rose. But not today. Today, you have uncertainty flowing through your veins. Could this be the end? Could this be the start of something new? What will happen between now and midnight?
“Baby, talk to m—”
“My parents want to meet you,” you interrupt him.
“What?”
“T-They want to meet you,” you say again. “Actually, my entire family wants to meet you. Today. Tonight. For dinner. At my house.”
You watch him take it all in, his expression changing rapidly into emotions you can’t really put a label on. You’ve never seen this expression on his face. You’re sure it’s a bit of excitement, as he’s always wanted to meet them. But also a little bit of worry, as you’ve told him what they think of people like him.
“I-Is this about the dress?” he asks worriedly.
“Kind of!” you panic, your hands running through your hair. Frustrated tears flood your eyes. You’re just so frustrated with this situation. With your sister, with your brother and dad. With everyone but Taehyung. He doesn’t deserve this. “My sister saw us today, apparently. A-And she went to my parents, a-and they were waiting for me when I got home, along with my brother. My dad was the one who suggested you come over, and I don’t know why. I can’t read what any of them are trying to say.”
“Hey,” he grabs your shoulders. You start to cry, fat tears falling down your cheeks.
“This is not how I wanted today to go,” you cry-laugh to yourself.
“I know,” he kisses your forehead. “Just tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.”
“I don’t know what to do,” you candor as you fall into his neck, sobbing against his shirt.
His big palms rub your back. You’re sure he’s a little shocked right now. You’ve told him about your family. About what kind of people they are. You’re sure he’s scared, too. You hate this. You wish you could just run away and avoid it all.
“Let’s start with figuring out what I’m going to wear, yeah?” he gently smiles down at you.
___
Dinner is awkward. So awkward.
It’s quiet, and your leg bounces rapidly in your seat.
Your parents hadn’t let Taehyung sit next to you. Rather, he sits across from you, unable to soothe your nerves with a hand on your thigh or palm.
Your sister and brother sit next to you, your parents on either end of the table. There are two empty seats next to Taehyung, him being closest to your father.
You’re sure your siblings had interrogated him a little when your mother forced you to change into something else when the two of you got here. Clad in a pink flowy dress and a braid, you nervously made your way down the stairs and into the dining room, only to find your boyfriend in front of his seat, nodding to the space between your siblings as your own.
Since the appetizers came in, no one had spoken a word.
It’s terribly uncomfortable, and you try to distract yourself by silently telling Taehyung to put his napkin in his lap instead of next to his plate. Your brother laughs, and you jab your elbow into his side.
“So,” your father starts. His voice sends a shock down your spine. “I’m sure you have a good explanation for the dress.”
Your nerves spike the highest they’ve ever been. The dress isn’t really that important. Had it been anyone else, maybe someone your father knew or liked, the dress would be replaced without a word the next day. His pressure on the dress with Tae makes you think he will use it against him, causing you to bounce both of your legs up and down rapidly.
“Yes, I—” you start, but your father raises his palm slightly, telling you to stay quiet and let him answer.
“Yes,” Taehyung clears his throat. “I apologize, sir. I was simply being careless. I was excited to see your daughter, and had acted before realizing what she was wearing.”
“That was custom made,” your sister starts. “By Chanel.”
Taehyung doesn’t seem to recognize the name, making your sister smile snottily.
“It’s a brand,” she shoves her food into her mouth with a snobby tug of her lips.
You clutch the end of your silverware, trying to transfer all the things you wish you could scream into the piece of silver metal.
“Enough,” your father stops her interrogation. He has made it clear he would be the one interrogating tonight. “I do have to ask, though,” he turns his attention toward Tae again. “What makes you think you’re worthy of seeing my daughter?”
The table is silent, everyone’s mind empty but your own. You could think of a million reasons, maybe even more than that, as to why he deserves you. But does Taehyung think he deserves you? You thought you made it clear within the past two years that he does, but his silence speaks for itself.
After a few more seconds of being silent, your father laughs a little through his nose.
“I am aware of your financial situation so that already docks a big chunk off your worth,” he starts again.
“Father,” you try to stop him.
“Your occupation is less than fulfilling,” he continues. “Surely, you must know that affection alone cannot support her.”
Taehyung’s mouth is so dry, that he wants to drink the entire ocean. But he lets it sit in discomfort, the truth ringing through his ears like a bomb dropped right in front of him.
“You care for her, son,” he sighs. “I can see that,” your father sets down his brandy, resting his elbows on the armrests of his chair, and latching his fingers together over his lower chest. “So, why don’t we just end this here. Before it gets any deeper than it is.”
You see Taehyung’s heart drop to his stomach. You wish you could go over to him and put it right back in his chest for him, but your father continues to drop it further and further until it eventually breaks in two upon impact with the hard floor.
“I’ll give you an ultimatum, just to be sure you understand,” your father starts. “You go back to your construction work and help your parents with their grocery business. Cut her out of your life. In return, I’ll forget about the dress. About the some 70 thousand dollars you owe me for the destruction of it.”
“Father, please,” you cry, starting to stand. "It was my fault." But your sister grabs your shoulder and pushes you back down onto your seat.
“If you’re smart, you’ll understand how long that would take to accumulate on top of your other finances to return,” he continues. “If you truly care about her, you’d let her find someone who can meet all of her expectations and give her a comfortable future.”
“No,” you start, but Taehyung silences you with his gaze.
He looks to you from your father, feeling the weight of his words. You look at him, seeing how he believes every word your father is saying. You see it ring in his ears, and you know exactly what his next words are going to be.
“Sir, I—” he rasps, defeat flooding his lungs. This is not about the dress. He’d spent the rest of his life paying your father back if it meant he’d let him have you. This is about your future that he knows he can’t support; about the fact that he knows the best he can give you is nowhere near the luxury someone else can. “I just want her to be happy.”
“In this world, love is not enough for that,” Your father stands up, his hand on Taehyung’s shoulder. “I’ll show you to the door, son,” your father says.
Taehyung stills, his attention suddenly transferred to the calluses on his palms. He examines them, then the scuffs on the rim of his sleeves. It serves as a reminder, that even the best things he owns cannot match up to the expectations served tonight. He knows you don’t care. He knows you’re better than this. But surely it might become easier with time for you. Your father would find someone genius, with wealth beyond imagination. You will forget about him with time, and your wounds will heal. You’ll have an army of new cars, go to fancy banquets with designer dresses, a penthouse in the city, a smart-suit husband, and beautiful children. He thinks about what he could give you, and it amounts to close to nothing. He’s already given you everything he has, and it’s not enough to keep you safe.
He thinks about this before standing in his seat. Your breath hitches in his throat, watching him give you up, your father’s hand on his back guiding him through the dining room, neither sparing you a glance.
“No,” you cry, standing up. Your sister tries to stop you again, but you shove her hand away.
“Y/n L/n, if you chase that boy, right now will be the last time you step in this house!” your mother slams her hands on the table.
There are words you wish you could say. So many emotions and slander and curse words you wish you could shout and spit in her face.
“I'm happy with him,” is all you can say. "I love him"
“Love is but a word,” your mother rolls her eyes. “You will forget about him in two weeks! That boy cannot support you. He can be replaced.”
“He can’t be,” you counter. Your chest rises with words, an essay might come out of your mouth, but you’re silenced when your father comes back into the room, Taehyung gone from your sight. You silence yourself, knowing you have to make a choice. Without even thinking, your feet move, and you’re brushing past your father, opening the door to you’re home and welcoming the rain.
Your parents wouldn’t have his presence in your life, banishing him from your home after he showed up in the nicest clothes he owned. They forbid him from ever seeing you again, using the price of your stained clothes as a threat if he ever were to lay eyes on you again. But you ignore that, running after him, soaking yourself in the rain once again as you chase him.
You call his name, shouting it into the street. He ignores you, and you feel you’re going crazy the more you call out his name until he finally turns around in quick anger. By this point, you two had already gone well down the street, far away from your posh, gated house. He grabs your cheeks in his palms, pressing his lips harshly against yours. You kiss him with fervor, letting the rain soak your pink dress and braided hair. He does the same, not giving a care in the world about the time he spent trying to make himself look nice for your family. He kisses you as if it would be the last time he would ever feel your lips against his again.
“We can’t do this, Y/n,” he breaks the kiss. His forehead rests against yours, his eyes close as his jaw clenches from his own words.
“Tae,” you sob, cupping his cheek. He covers your hand with his own, squeezing it tight.
“You know we can’t, Y/n,” he shakes his head, looking into your tear-filled eyes. “They will never accept me.”
“I accept you,” you sniffle. “Please don’t leave me, Tae. I accept you.”
“It’s not enough,” he whispers.
“N-No,” you shake your head.
But he already began letting go of your hand, his heel taking a step back.
“T-Tae, no,” you grab his other hand, but he forcibly makes you let go. You watch him turn on his heel, his back replacing his chest.
“Kim Taehyung,” you sob into the open air of the empty street. He does nothing, continuing his path to wherever he is going. “Taehyung!” you scream, but he doesn’t stop.
Your chest rises and falls so quickly, that you feel dizzy. Panic rises into every vein in your body, watching him grow smaller and smaller as he distances himself from you. Never in your life had you felt like it was between life or death between two choices. But god, was it clear which option had been labeled death, and which one was life.
“Marry me,” you shout. You watch his feet stop, both shoes parallel to each other. The panic in your veins slightly subsides at the fact that his distance stopped becoming larger. And then you say it again. “Marry me, Taehyung.”
He turns around, and you begin walking—running—toward him.
“Don’t say that,” he angrily breathes through his nose once you reach him.
“Marry me,” you say it again.
He looks up, despite the rain, his jaw clenched.
“I can’t go through life without you,” you cry, shaking your head. “I can’t do it.”
“You can,” he denies.
“I’m so in love with you,” you laugh, wiping the tears from your eyes. “I love you.”
His hands clench, balled into fists. God, did he love you more than the world itself. More than himself. But he can’t be selfish. He can’t rip you away from your family.
“And what about them?” he nods his head in the direction of your house.
“They can’t replace you,” you cup his cheeks, forcing him to look at you. “No one can replace you.”
“You can’t replace your family, Y/n,” he says. “I’m just a guy. Probably the least qualified to have you,” he laughs through his nose. “I can be replaced. They cannot.”
“They have given me a choice,” you cry. His words hurt. You wish you could make him see just how irreplaceable he is. You cannot replace your family, but you cannot replace him, either. “I already made it the minute I ran out of the house.”
He looks at you, finally locking eyes with yours. You feel the panic fade when he looks at you, and you can’t help but feel that this is right. That you’re making the right choice.
“Y/n,” he starts, shaking his head.
“I chose you a long time ago,” you go on. “The minute I shared my umbrella with you, I chose you. All your boxy smiles and shy laughs. The dirt in your hair and under your nails. Your torn T-shirts and holed shoes. Your heart.”
A tear falls from his eye, his jaw still clenched.
“I can’t give you this life,” he takes your hands from his cheeks, holding them tightly between your soaked bodies. “I-I will never be able to afford law school or a gated mansion in the city. Or a white Chanel dress. Your life — I can’t rob you of it.”
“You are my life, Tae,” you rub your nose against his. “That stuff doesn’t matter. I want you. Forever.”
He gulps, the look in your eye speaking nothing but the truth. It scares him because of course, he wants the best for you. But he is unsure of himself, of what he can give you other than his heart. But the way you look at him, as if that is truly enough for you, makes his worries subside. You’re choosing him. Between life or death, you took a side, labeling him as life.
He grabs your waist, his arm pulling you into his frame as he sears his lips onto yours. Big, callused palms cup your jaw, holding you against his lips as if you’d try to escape. This time around, the kiss is hard, so needy and loved. You feel loved like you’ve never felt before. All the panic in your heart fades and is replaced with a need to keep him close. You assume he feels the same, his strong arms lifting you around his waist. You laugh against his lips, so giddy and so in love.
“I love you,” you chuckle, almost in disbelief that you could love someone so much. He’s given you something you thought you’d never receive in the world your parents brought you into. You feel fresh with him, like you’ve been born again.
He kisses you again, confirming he feels the same before he sets your feet back on the wetted sidewalk.
“Let’s go,” he takes your hand.
“Where?” you follow him.
“My place,” he looks back at you.
You come up to his side, holding his arm as you walk in the rain. It was just a walk until thunder struck again, and the rain started falling ten times harsher than it was before. It causes you to shriek, and Taehyung only laughs, beginning a sprint while you follow after him.
You two ran to the bus stop, where you kissed some more, before the bus arrived and you shivered in the air conditioning of the large vehicle until it arrived on the other side of the city where his apartment complex was.
His place became a little bit of yours. You had unofficially moved in until now, as you stumble in his arms into the elevator, making out like horny teens until the number for the 15th floor rang in his ears and he pulled away, much to your disliking.
The kisses you press to his neck make his whole body feel weak, his fingers unable to find the key to his apartment amongst the many in the single key ring chain he owns.
“Baby,” he whispers desperately. “S-Slow down, m’ trying to find the key,” he nervously chuckles.
You only run your hands under his soaked shirt, feeling the divots of his abs under your fingertips. Working at a construction company certainly did have more perks than one.
Finally, he seems to have found the key, slipping it forcibly into the lock and turning it until it opened the door to his apartment.
“Come here,” he lifts you up onto his hips, walking you inside his place and pushing you against the door, making it close all the way. He’s sure to lock it after tossing his keys somewhere on the neighboring kitchen counter as he kisses hot trails up your neck. They’re hasty kisses, and so so needy.
“T-Tae,” you grip his hair.
The feeling makes him groan, his hand forming a fist against the wall in pure self-control.
You slide your fingers under his shirt again, except this time, they go all the way up. You force his shirt off his skin, and he lets you take it off as his hands firmly grip your waist. He uses his new grip to support you when he moves you off the wall, his legs guiding you through his apartment as you kiss his neck once more. This time, to leave marks.
You latch onto his sweet spot so tenderly, he grips your hips hard enough to leave his own marks on your skin.
With one hand, he pushes open the door to his bedroom before landing you on the soft sheets of his bed. You’re overwhelmed with him. The smell of his clean sheets floods your lungs as he traps you underneath his body.
You gasp when he slides his hands up your waist, his fingers coming to your back to fiddle with the zipper of your dress.
He waits for your permission, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he finds the zipper.
“Please, Tae,” you allow him.
He nods against your neck, telling you without words that he’s going to undress you.
You sit up for him, making it easier for him to carry the fabric over your head. You’re revealed to him in your soaked bra set. Nothing fancy, just nude colors to hide your undergarments beneath your dress.
You watch him admire your body, eyes flicking back and forth, trying to remember what you look like underneath your bra. You help him, reaching behind you to unhook it yourself.
It falls off your shoulders and your skin perks with the cold air mixing with your wet skin.
“Make love to me,” you ask. “Please.”
Taehyung’s mouth goes dry. He’s seen you naked countless times. Fucked you like a rabbit in heat multiple times in just a day. But god, did hearing you ask him to make love to you settle the weight of your proposal from earlier. You really do choose him. And suddenly, he feels like it was the first time he’s ever looked at you naked. Like it was the first time he was going to enter your body. He felt nervous. So, so nervous. But never so sure of anything else in his life. He knew he wanted you as his forever. But was too selfless to ask you to leave your prosperous life for his. For the longest time, he thought he was living on borrowed time with you. That one day, his first and only love would eventually leave him. His dreams are coming true, and he doesn’t know how to process that other than following your exact command.
“Tae?” you cup his cheek.
He sits on his knees, each one placed next to your thighs as you sit below him.
You watch his throat bob as he swallows, his face leaning into your touch. You bring him back to life, his body finally moving to trap you against the sheets again.
With soft lips, much less needy than the prior ones you two have shared today, he kisses you. He’s gentle as his hips press against yours. You gasp against his lips, the feeling of his clothed cock against your thin underwear stirring things inside of you.
You wrap your legs around his hips, crossing your ankles to secure his embrace over your own.
Taehyung groans, the friction making his desire uncontrollable as he grinds against your core.
“T-Taehyung,” you gasp, head falling back against the sheets. He takes this as an opportunity to trap the skin of your neck with his teeth, gently biting at your flesh in soft confessions of his love.
Your breasts push against his bare skin, feeling overwhelmed when he takes your pert nipple between his fingers, pinching them slightly, just enough to drive you crazy.
It’s all too much, his lips, his fingers, his hips grinding into you, sending waves of pleasure straight into your core. You just want him already. You want to feel full of him.
Your heels start the process, digging at the hem of his jeans as if you could get them off without your hands when they’re so securely fastened by his belt.
“Fuck,” he moans, finally granting your wish as he pushes off of you and unbuckles his belt.
Dark brown eyes admire you, laying on his sheets, giving yourself to him completely. You stare back at him, watching him push his jeans and boxers down to the floor, stepping out of them slowly before he hooks his slender finger under your panties.
“A-Are you sure?” he asks you, hiking your legs up as your underwear slides off your smooth skin.
“Yes,” you nod.
You hear your panties fall on the floor, joining the rest of your clothes, when he slowly spreads your legs, creating a place for himself as he falls on top of you again. Strong arms come under your shoulders, and you slide your hands up his neck, one arm securing him close to you, the other feeling a rapid heartbeat under his chest. You gasp when you feel the head of his cock brush gently against your thigh, so close to your core, but far enough away to make you want to beg for it. You, too, feel like it’s the first time all over again. When he took your virginity and your heart and wrote his name all over your skin.
“You look like you’re having second thoughts,” he shakily breathes above you, a small nervous smile on his lips.
“No,” you laugh shyly through your nose, looking into his warm eyes. You see yourself in them, and you’re reminded of the moment you first saw yourself in them two years ago.
“Are you scared?” he asks, lining himself up with your entrance. You know he isn’t referring to sex, but rather everything that comes after this moment. Of your parents. Of everything you’ll have to sort out. But you know it is nothing that you won’t do alone. The man above you has made it clear that you will never feel alone again.
“A little,” you admit with a small smile.
“Me, too,” he kisses your cheek softly. With a push of his hips, his face falls into your neck, a small groan coming from his lips as you gasp and claw at the skin of his shoulder.
“Oh, T-Tae,” you moan sweetly, tangling your fingers in his hair as he slides out just to slam back into you once more. You feel giddy, a small raspy laugh coming from your throat as he develops a pace. He’s so perfect for you, fits you like a glove in more ways than one. He fills you completely. Over fills your cup with all of his love and giggles and smiles. You can’t get enough, it’s almost comical.
“Faster,” you whine, arching you back into him.
He obeys, grabbing your thighs and pushing them upwards until they’re hooked on his shoulders.
“Fuck, Y/n,” he moans, slamming into you with a newfound passion. Your nails slide down his biceps, some drawing blood from the feeling of his dick ripping you open. It makes you choke beneath him, your head falling back as he fucks you full of his cock. “S-So perfect.”
His nose brushes against your collarbone, using your neck as support when he leans his forehead against it. He takes a deep breath, breathing in your scent before he takes your hips firmly into his palms and holds you against the sheets. Your legs fall naturally, too weak to hold themselves up. But he doesn’t seem to care, instead using his new grip to pull you into his hips, pushing you deeper onto his length than you think you’ve ever gone before. The tip of his head kisses your cervix, and you wince in pleasurable pain when he slides out and slams against it again.
“A-Ah,” you whine, unsure how to feel about this new sensation. The man above you is sure, slowly but harshly pushing into you. His sureness makes you swell, and you feel like he is truly combining his body with your own the deeper he goes.
“Y-You,” he nearly slurs. Your pussy squeezes the head of his cock so justly, he feels his vision going blurry. Everything about you makes him explode. His dick, his mind, his heart. Everything. He can't even finish his sentence.
He goes faster, slipping past your folds with your slick sliding down your thighs and onto his sheets.
“T-Tae,” you panic, your high coming in quickly, setting warmly at the pit of your stomach just seconds away from release. “Tae, I’m gonna cum.”
“F-Fuck, me, too,” he moves faster, harder. His hands touch you, your skin following in flames the further his hands slide up your waist. He groans uncontrollably when you clench around him, your warm heat spreading down your walls as he makes love to you. “Y-Yn,” he whines.
“Say you love me,” you gasp, your voice nearly a whisper as you cream his cock.
“I love you,” he kisses your lips. It’s wet and so disgustingly sweet, you force him to lean himself into your body again, to use it to cum. “I love you so much.”
You watch him shut his eyes tight, his cock twitching inside of you, begging for release as he fights it, probably wanting to last longer for you, to give you a second orgasm before he lets himself cum.
“Cum for me, sweet boy,” you kiss his cheek.
“A-Ah,” he moans, his nose rubbing against yours. You squeak when he slams himself into you, harsh and raw, pushing past you as he fills you with ropes of white cum. “Oh, fuck,” he shakes, fists gathering the fabric of the sheets tightly as he falls into your neck, dick twitching as he cums hotly in your walls. He can’t control the noises, he’s never felt like this before. Like nothing else matters but his future with you.
His dick slips past your cervix, exiting your walls with loads of cum falling out of your abused cunt.
He falls on top of you, the two of you catching your breath with closed eyes and heavy limbs. Until you start laughing.
“What?” he chuckles with you. Your laugh is contagious.
He comes up to look at you, your cheeks red and your pupils shot with love.
“Nothing,” you shake your head. You look at him, cupping his cheek as he switches his gaze between your eyes and your cherry lips. “I-I’m just so happy.”
He laughs at that. Himself full of the same happiness.
“So?” you poke his cheek, raising an eyebrow.
“So?” he raises his own.
“Will you?”
“Will I…?”
“Will you marry me, silly,” you roll your eyes. Although it doesn’t seem nearly as sassy as it is supposed to, not with a giant smile plastered on your face.
“Oh,” he smiles back. “I guess.”
“'You guess'?!” you pinch his shoulder. He winces but laughs as he pulls you into a hug, switching himself on his back with your hips straddling his own. Cum leaks down onto his softening cock, but that is the last thing on either of your minds. His big hands feel the smoothness of your thighs, as yours play with the skin of his chest. If he didn’t know every one of your quirks, he would have taken it as you being silly. But he knows you’re just a little nervous about his answer.
“Yes,” he takes your hand, kissing your knuckles. “Of course I will. But, let me do it properly.”
You physically relax, and pure happiness floods your system.
“We never do things properly,” you remind him, rolling your eyes with a smile again.
“You’re right,” he acknowledges. “I-It might be a while, but at least let me buy you a ring.”
“Okay,” you bite your lip, hiding a closed-lipped smile. It doesn’t work, of course, and the two of you are left a stupid mess as you start your forever together.
___
[End. Do not copy. Original work of @jungkookstatts , 2024]
A Big Thank You :)
Today marks a year since I’ve launched this blog.
The past 2 1/2 years have been particularly hard on me. I think I’ve lost more than I’ve made; lost sight of myself in the process. I went through many relationships and experiences that made me question my role in life and what kind of person I want to become.
But underneath it all, I had writing as an outlet. It’s always been hard for me to release my hobbies to an audience, especially on social media. The idea of likes on posts and followers scares me, as sometimes I abuse the meaning and turn it into a fanatical way of rating myself in ways that aren’t fair.
This blog was a leap of faith, and I’m proud of myself for releasing the works that I enjoyed writing and imagining in my head. I still have a lot of improvement to do when it comes to my writing. That’s a part of the growing process that I am excited for.
I have so much going on next year, I don’t even know where to start. In all honesty, I’m not even sure I’m going to have much time to write. I will be all over the place! It’s hard to imagine it from this point in life before the new year has even started. However, I wish to interact with all of you more. Your support has made me realize that expressing myself isn’t as scary as I made it out to be. I intend to give the kindness you have given me back.
Thank you for sticking around and giving me your support. I’m grateful for all of you :))
Please feel free to write in at anytime. I’m always open for conversation or if you want to rant to someone :)
I’m so grateful!! Happy holidays and new year ❤️
hi! could pls write about JK being all after you and you "don't care" like in the Seven MV, but you end up together?

[Summary]: Jungkook has been pining after you for ages. You find denying him fun, in a way. But when he proposes the truth as to why he wants you so bad, you begin to see yourself fold.
[Theme]: Non-Idol AU (or Idol AU, however, you see it), Somewhat Fuckboy JK, Desperate JK, Library-worker Y/N
[Rating]: 18+ for sexual innuendoes. (no actual sex though, sorry guys)
[Word Count]: 1,943
[A/N]: I am so sorry this took me so long. I honestly have so many requests rn, I am somewhat downing. Here is this, though! Hope you enjoy!
“I don’t give a fuck, Jungkook,” you roll your eyes, clicking away on the crappy keyboard of the library’s computer. The system is slow, and it somehow pisses you off even more than the brooding man on the other side of the desk.
“‘You don’t give a fuck?’” he restates your question in shock. He scoffs into the air of the library, and you almost tell him to shut up out of the sheer force of it. “I bought you 7 pounds of roses. In your favorite color, by the way. Do you know how hard it is to find lavender colored roses in that quantity?”
“That’s not the point, Kook,” you take your glasses off. You really don’t have time to deal with his propositions as to why you should go out with him right now. This has been a whole month struggle. If you really want to get to the nitty-gritty of the situation, technically, this has been going on for about a year now. It’s only gotten this bad since about four weeks ago.
Jungkook has been after your ass since you started coming to his apartment to hang out with your best friend, who was dating his roommate. Your best friend, Saeyeon, was always over at the apartment to be with Taehyung. And at one point, she invited you over to see if you’d get along with the other 3 boys who lived here. She saw a potential in Hoseok for you, and you started to realize she was right when you saw that the guy couldn’t keep you from laughing every minute you were over there. Hoseok was your type to a T. Funny, understanding, hard-working, and handsome. But every time you were over there, there was this agitating, grating voice from the corner of the room.
Jungkook intervened in every attempt you tried to make on Hoseok. Eventually, you got so fed up, that you stopped showing up to the apartment at all.
“What’s the point then, Y/n?” he laughs in disbelief.
You look at him menacingly, rolling your eyes again after a while. Honestly, you have no idea what the point is. After his attempts to get you the fuck off of Hoseok, the guy couldn’t stop explaining why he was a better choice; why you should date him and not his roommate. The sheer honesty and willingness to fuck up his friend’s chance at dating you pissed you off, even if he were to later explain to you that Hoseok was as gay as they come. What made you more turned off was his audacity when he said he could fuck you anytime you wanted, at any given moment, all day every day, every-day-a-week. You were shocked, completely turning yourself away from the possibility of even considering going out with him after that. Even if you thought about the possibility every time you went home.
You thought that after a rejection or two, he would lay off. But he found out where you worked, where you did your laundry, where you took your walks, and where you went to have fun. There was no avoiding him. The guy had ambition like steel, and hasn’t given up his efforts in asking you for just one date since then.
“So there is no point,” he smiles, leaning his hands on the counter.
You look at the clock, reading 5:00pm, when you are supposed to clock-out. You sigh in relief, grabbing the hand-held kiosk and punching in your numbers. A part of you wants to roll your eyes again, knowing Jungkook came here purposely at the time you get off to try and hang out with you after you got off of work. “Hang out”, as in persuade you to date him.
“The point is that I’m not going out with you,” you state for what feels like the millionth time since last year. “All you want is a sleazy slut in your sheets. And you’ve got the wrong girl for that.”
You make your way around the counter, opening the half door to let you out of the office-circle in the help-desk section of the library.
“Woah, hey,” he chases after you as you walk in the opposite direction. “I didn’t say that. I said I could fuck you like a sleazy slut if you wanted me to. Only by your word, that is. We can do it vanilla, or if you like—I don’t know—role-play, we could do that, too.”
“Jungkook,” you pinch your eyebrows together with your fingers.
You watch him give you that typical fuck boy smirk, showing you the glory of his lip piercings on full display.
“Okay,” he laughs at your expression. “In all seriousness. One date—just one. That’s all I ask. No sex, no nothing. The sex is nearly a bonus—one of my many talents. But genuinely, I just want one date. Officially. To get to know you more than the fact that you love denying great opportunities when they’re given to you on a golden platter.”
“A golden platter,” you scoff.
“If you don’t like it, then we can stop there,” he gulps. “But genuinely, just give me a chance.”
Someone in the library shushes the two of you, and you feel heat rush to your cheeks out of embarrassment of getting scolded at at your own workplace. You start to walk out again, hating that you smile when you hear his footsteps following behind you.
“So?” he calls your name louder once the two of you are out in the parking lot.
“Why do you want me so bad?” you laugh at the situation. He catches up to you, walking beside you as you find your car.
You’re really not the biggest catch. You’re a total nerd and you don’t really party or drink. Sure, you like sex, but only with people you’ve actually been able to call your boyfriend. You work in a library instead of using your degree you just finished to get a job in the field you studied for. You’re a mess, but yet somehow an attractive, pinned after, biggest-fuck-boy-in-the-world wants a date with you, amongst other hidden innuendos. It really doesn’t make sense to you, and you think this is one of the reasons why you’ve been so strict on saying no. It simply doesn’t make sense.
“Dunno,” he shrugs. “You keep me on my toes. I like it.”
“So I’m a game,” you raise your eyebrow, leaning against your car when you find it.
“In a way,” he admits. “I want to win. I like you.”
“So then me agreeing to the date is you winning? You just gave your opponent the key to make you lose,” you laugh.
“No, the way to win is you liking me back,” he says.
He moves closer to you, somewhat trapping you against your car.
“So then what happens when I like you?” you propose. “Is the game over?”
“That game is, yes,” he says. The tip of his sneakers touch yours, and you begin to feel a little nervous, crossing your hands over your chest. “But then a new one starts.”
“And what’s that game?” you ask. The closer he gets to you, the quieter your voice gets.
“You date me. As in actually date me. Not just a date here and a date there. As in you date me as my girlfriend,” he smiles. “And then you fall in love with me, and then we get married and have 5 kids and a dog or two.”
You genuinely laugh at that, and he does a little, too. Although, there’s still a hint of seriousness in his voice that causes you to stop laughing for longer than you wanted to.
“The game doesn’t end, Y/n,” he smiles. “That’s why I say you keep me on my toes; why I say I like you. There’s always going to be another goal to work towards with you.”
You have to look away from him at that. The blush on your cheeks radiates, and you hate that your heart beats out of your chest from his confession. You’re supposed to say no. You’re supposed to never back down against him. For the longest time, you wanted him to lose, assuming that he was the type to get anything he wanted. You wanted to be the one he couldn’t have. But the longer you reject him, the more you find yourself wanting him just as bad.
“Is this what you say to every girl?” you look up at him.
“Just you,” he tucks your hair behind your ear with tatted fingers and rough skin. “Rejection doesn’t feel good. I’ve never been rejected so many times,” he laughs. “You scare me. I like it though.”
“You’re scared I’ll reject you?” you ask.
“You’ve been rejecting me already,” he reminds you. “But…yes. It’s a 90% possibility.”
You pause, looking past him and into the sky. The sun is setting, and it casts a honey glow over his skin. He’s attractive—that you cannot deny. He’s also ambitious as hell. At first, it annoyed you, but now you realize that it’s actually quite admirable that he’s been so consistent with you since last year. You don’t know if he’s been dating people during the time that he hasn’t been stalking you at the laundromat every Saturday at 3pm. But you’d like to think that even if he did, the fact that he’s remembered and made an effort proves that he still wants you in the end.
You don’t know what to think. But you figure that you really cannot know until you get to know who he is past that ambitious and attractive side of him.
“One date,” you agree, holding up your finger. “One. And if I hate it, then you have to promise to leave me alone. No more showing up at my work, or on my afternoon walks, or a—”
“I promise,” he says so quickly, you almost didn’t know if he was speaking the same language. “I promise—holy shit for real?”
He holds your waist in his palms tightly, and you feel strange when you realize that it feels like second nature to you. In a way, you feel like his hands on you feel right. You look down at them, and he takes them off of you, apologizing. You want to put them back on you, but you hold back.
“Does Friday work?” he asks you quickly again. You laugh at his excitement, feeling somewhat good at giving him what he wants. It felt good before to tell him no, but you realize now that this look on his face is worth more than seeing him disappointed because of your denial.
You nod as you laugh at him.
“Get out of here,” you push his shoulder playfully. “I’ll see you on Friday.”
You watch him nod, turning away. You do the same, unlocking your car before you hear his footsteps stop.
“Oh, and Y/n?” he calls out your name.
“Yeah?” you look at him.
“I meant what I said,” he continues.
He smiles when you look confusingly at him, not remembering which words he is referring to.
“The ultimate goal is for you to be with me. But I do come with all that extra stuff,” he smiles. “You know—the every-day-a-week promise I made to you a while ago.”
You roll your eyes, opening your car door. All this time, you had been saying that Jungkook’s sexual side was the biggest turn off of them all. But as you slide into your car, you shock yourself by your next words.
“I look forward to it.”
----
[End. Do not copy. Original work of @jungkookstatts , 2023]
Cherry Flavored

[Summary]: Your biker boyfriend takes you on a joyride.
[Theme]: Established realtionship!AU, Biker!JK
[Rating]: 18+, explicit content, oral (f receiving), spitting, dom!JK, riding, creampie, spanking
[Word Count]: 5,498
[A/N]: The biker verse has come to me in the new year. So has covid. But biker fantasies heal me. Enjoy! (P.s. thinking of doing a Tae fic soon??)
“Just, hold onto me,” Jungkook smiles. It’s a toothy grin, one that would usually send butterflies of affection straight to your tummy. His lip piercings shine like the metal around his fingers and ears, catching the midnight glow of the street lamps against them.
“There’s no seat belt,” you exhale.
“Of course,” he laughs a little. Brown hairs fall over his forehead with the soft force of his voice. You’re too nervous to move them out of the way like you usually would right now. “It’s a motorcycle, baby. I’m your seat belt.”
You laugh in disbelief.
“Kook, I’m not sure—” you begin, but he stops you. Cold hands cup your cheeks, his nose inches from yours. You can smell cherries on his breath, left over from the cherry flavored lollipop he bought from one of the gum ball machines at the entrance of the diner you just ate at.
“Baby,” he kisses your lips once. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you, you know that.”
You exhale against his lips, knowing his words are true. But still, your mind can’t help but evaluate all the “what ifs”.
“I’ll go slow,” he smiles softly. “No games.”
“Promise?” You search his eyes. You know he isn’t lying. He’d never play with your safety like that. He loves you too much. Such an over protective boyfriend. A big teddy bear at heart despite the piercings, tattoos, and loud motorcycle he has to his name. He’d never do anything to harm you.
“I promise,” he kisses you again. “Do you trust me?”
“Yes,” you exhale. The boy smiles again. It shoves your nervous butterflies away and briefly replaces them with those affectionate butterflies you missed dearly.
“Good,” he kisses you deeper this time. You feel his pillowy lips against yours, sliding between your lips like they were made to be there. You almost grab his jaw to keep him against you. But he cuts the kiss short. The taste of cherries is left on your lips when he pulls away and grabs the spare helmet off the back of his bike.
“Put this on,” he hands it to you. It’s black and glossy and twice the size of your head. But you slide it on anyways, looking at your boyfriend through the tinted glasses of the helmet.
“How do I look?” You ask him.
Jungkook’s heart nearly flips. Who would have thought you’d be so cute with a helmet on? He did. You just confirmed it.
“Cold,” he settles with. Pulling of his biker jacket, he puts it over your shoulders. It’s night, and the air will only get colder once he starts riding. The jacket will provide extra protection if you fall, too. It’s thick exterior and interior act as a buffer against any surface. He doesn’t have a spare, but he’d risk himself for you on any occasion.
You slide the bulky sleeves up your arms, feeling slightly uncomfortable by the unfamiliar garment. It doesn’t really feel like a proper jacket, too stiff and thick to have on unless you were riding.
“Now, the key is to just lean,” he puts his own helmet over his head, trying to refocus. You watch his tattooed fingers grasp the handle of the left side of his bike after he walks over to it. “And hold onto me. Tight.”
He swings a leg over his bike, situating himself. Cocking his head to the side, he singlals to you to come over. You do as you’re told.
With timid hands, you tightly hold onto his shoulder and hike yourself over his bike. It wobbles, and your heart skips a couple beats at the thought of falling. But Jungkook is calm, and you feel slightly reassured knowing he trusts the bike won’t do as you thought it would.
“H-How tight?” You ask, wrapping your arms around his waist. The softness of his t-shirt makes you feel better. Rather, the feeling of his body underneath your fingertips does. It’s soft and warm, but you feel the ridges of his abs as you test the tightness of your grip.
“Tighter,” he asks. You do.
He shakes his head. You see a wrinkle in his eye, knowing he’s smiling behind his helmet. With his rough hands, he grabs your own, tightening them himself around his waist.
“For dear life, Y/n,” he rubs your hands soothingly afterward.
You nod, doing as he says. A raspy chuckle leaves his lips at the tightness of your grip. He pulls his biker gloves and his keys out of his pocket before putting them on. With a twist of his key, the bike comes to life with a loud roar, and you somehow grip him tighter. He wishes you could see the blush he has going on right now. It’s worthy of a few lines of humiliation you like to throw at him whenever he’s feeling flustered by you.
“You ready?” He double checks.
You take a deep breath, telling him yes, which prompts him to lean the bike to the side and kick up the kickstand. He leans forward a little, and you move with him. With a flick of his wrist, you’re moving with him on his bike.
You feel the adrenaline pumping through your veins. The bike is moving! You’re gripping his t-shirt, probably some of his skin underneath, too, holding on for dear life like he instructed.
“Kook!” You inhale, weary of the already fast approaching speed. Little do you know he’s barely made it to the local street speed limit.
“Trust me,” he tells you surely.
Looking at the sureness of his hands on the steering, the steadiness of his pace, you decide it’s time you really do. This is Jungkook. He wouldn’t let you backpack unless he knew he was sure enough to handle you as one, unless he knew you’d be safe with him as a rider. He’s been training for this moment. Never proposing the idea until recently, and you knew it was because he finally felt ready to be trusted with your safety.
You’re still a little nervous, but you’ve transferred most of that into your arms and hands. You hold onto him, wrapping your arms fully around his waist, leaning into his back as you let him guide you through the night. He’s guided you through many things in life. Your first tattoo, your first New Years kiss. Your first true love. You trust him with your soul. You love him with all of it, too.
Under his helmet, Jungkook smiles with content when you wrap your hands around him. You’re trusting him. He feels the weight of responsibility. But moreover, the excitement of showing you something he loves. Of showing someone he loves something he loves to do. Riding through the night with wind going against him. The motor of his bike propelling him forward as he rides under the stars. How he’s dreamed of taking you on one of his joyrides. Something in him knew you would like it.
He goes faster, not daring to enter the highway on your first ride without your permission. But he goes through the local roads, hitting the exact speed of the speed limit given to him. Not going a unit over the number on the signs. You giggle when you realize, knowing the boy you hold onto usually does go a little over, even in the car. But the fact fills you with warmth that he wouldn’t dare play games with speed right now. Not with you on his back.
After a certain point, you reach a red light, and he puts a foot on the ground to stabilize the bike at the stop.
“How do you like it?” He turns his head slightly to check in with you.
“I love it,” you smile. “I love you.”
His big heart skips, and he looks back at the time on the cross walk to see if he has enough time to kiss you silly from your confession. But you give him no time.
“You can go faster,” you scooch closer to him.
“You sure?” He looks back at you again. The red reflection of the light still beams on his helmet.
You nod. “Take me on the highway, Kook.”
Suddenly, the light turns green.
“Okay,” he shakes his head in disbelief. A small laugh erupts through his chest. When did you get so dauntless? “Better hold on, then.”
You squeal, doing as he says when he accelerates forward. He’s faster this time, still stable and not at all reckless. But the wind catches your clothes enough to know he’s going to do as promised.
The laughs that erupt from your body when he hits the highway is enough to solidify that he’s so totally going to kiss you so silly tonight. Maybe all night, if you’ll let him.
He stays in the slow lane, going the minimum speed the highway gives, and yet you’re screaming joy and laughing relief out of your lungs as he guides you through the night. Just you and your biker boyfriend.
You trust him enough to take one hand away, letting your fingertips feel the wind of this summer night. But it’s interrupted after a while when Jungkook’s hand returns your own his waist. He patss the top of your palm a few times, telling you to behave, and you do. You hold him tighter, if that’s possible. Scooching closer to him as he finishes the ride off the highway.
The streets start to look familiar, the houses and street names ringing bells in your head. You’re sad to end the ride, honestly. Especially when he pulls up to his townhome, sliding into the parking spot right in front of it all a little too soon.
With steady hands, you sit up from your leaned position, still holding his waist, as he turns off the bike. Jungkook pulls off his helmet, brown messy hair falling around his ears from the release of the protective gear. There’s a bit of sweat forming at the base of his hairline, and you almost went to kiss it if it weren’t for your helmet. Before you can take it off, the man is already standing up, positioning himself in front of you to pull it off himself. You swing your leg around the bike, leaning your feet against the pavement as you stay seated. He stares down at you, tall and handsome as he awaits your approval.
“Well?” He tugs his lips upward. The piercings on his eyebrow dance as he raises it.
“I loved it,” you candor. “I kind of want to suck your cock right now.”
He laughs, crinkled nose and all. That nose nudges with yours when he kisses you. It’s slower than the pecks from before, when he was coaxing you into the joyride with him.
“That much?” He laughs. Those rough hands of his help you stand, the reminder of chest against yours only makes your heart flutter more. “Should have taken you sooner, then.”
“It was perfect, Kook,” you hold his jaw. “I really loved it.”
He looks at the stars in your eyes. The overwhelming presence of you in his biker jacket, holding his spare helmet in one hand and his jaw in the other. God, could you be any more perfect? He doesn’t know what to do with himself.
So he leans into you, holding the back of your neck as he sears his lips onto yours. He’s still cherry flavored, and you can taste it surely when he dips his tongue into your mouth. You envelope it warmly, kissing him with all the love you have. Except you wish you could feel more of him, have his skin against yours. You want the hand that holds his helmet to hold your waist. For your own hand that holds his spare to run through his hair. You want to be on his lap, to look at him from above, sweaty hair and brown eyes.
He seems to read your mind, detaching your lips only slightly when he whispers against them, “Do you want to go in?”
You nod, watching him smile knowingly. It’s one of those smiles he gives when he’s shy, when he feels bashful and is receiving more attention than he’s used to. It’s one of his cutest smiles to-date. The desire to jump his bones is stronger than it’s been all night.
You follow him as he walks up to the door. He takes your helmet from his hand and balances it on his finger like he does with his own. The key turns, and the smell of his apartment fills your lungs. It smells like him. Like man, but better. A strange thing to think about, as you never associated “man” with smelling good. But he does, somehow. He smells like home.
You follow in suit, taking your shoes off as he does the same when hooking your helmets on his biking rack next to his door. You lock it for him, and he smiles back at you in a quick thanks.
Quickly, you tread in front of him, becoming taller as you leave him in the shoe divot in front of the door.
“So does this mean you’ll let me take you on a few of my joyrides, then?” he asks you.
“You can take me on all of them if you want to,” you promise.
He comes up to you, destroying the height confidence you had from before when he steps up from the shoe divot.
“I love you,” he cups your jaw with both of his hands this time. Puffy lips connect with yours, they’re hot and slightly damp, firmly kissing you. Passion presses your back against the wall, his frame engulfing your body in love and lust as he kisses you. You can only return the favor, sliding your hands up his clothed chest. He breaks his grasp on your jaw when your hands slide around his neck, prompting him to replace his hands underneath your thighs instead. With no effort at all, as if you weigh a feather in his strong arms, he lifts you around his waist.
The new angle allows you to kiss him deeper, your hand securing around his neck and shoulder. Big hands hold your waist and back. He walks with you, messing around through his apartment, taking you to his bedroom by pure muscle memory as he’s too distracted by the smell your clothes against his skin to focus on anything else.
For a second, his hand leaves your back to push open his door. The lamp on his bedside table is still on, something he forgot to turn off when he left to meet you at the diner with your friend and her date earlier.
Gently, almost as if you were made of glass, he lays you on his sheets. You still have his biker jacket on, and he swears it’s never looked better on anyone else.
“Biker looks good on you,” he says, admiring you from above.
“Want me to leave it on?” You suggest, an eyebrow raise up at him.
You visibly see his cheeks turn red, and you have your answer before he can even say it.
“You don’t have to,” he denies. But you’re already sliding it off, taking your shirt and bra underneath before bringing the jacket over your shoulder again and zipping it up halfway.
He looks at you, bewildered and so terribly infatuated before he hides his face in his palm and groans. He’s so unbelievably flustered and he doesn’t know what to do with himself.
“You’re going to kill me, Y/n,” he muffles in his hand.
You almost say something, but he’s already trapping your frame underneath his, searing his lips onto the skin of your neck. He bites and sucks at your skin, marking you in his purple and blue love bites. You can’t get enough, tilting your head for more, which he gladly gives you.
You pant lustfully in response when he hits your sweet spot. His lips are delicate at first when he comes across the territory he’s memorized so well. But you know better than to think that he’d stay that way. Not when he knows how it causes you to slide your hands in his hair and pull at his scalp in the way he likes best. Not when he knows you’ll react with the breathy moans he loves so much that flow from your lips at the slightest kiss. So he does just that, feeling your back arch into his chest and your fingers tangle in his hair when he plays with your pleasure.
“Jungkook,” you flutter. His lips feel so good, like they were made to make you feel like this.
He kisses down your neck, coming to the base of the zipper you left done halfway up the jacket. Slowly, he unzips it, watching the fabric part ways as gravity takes it to the sides of the bed. The jacket doesn’t completely reveal your breasts though, so he takes matters into his own hands and cups them from underneath.
His stare makes you feel shy, and you inhale sharply when his thumbs brush over your nipples slightly. The reaction makes you even more shy, and you cover your mouth with the back of your hand to hide the small moans that leave your mouth.
“So pretty,” he looks up at you.
You tug at the rim of his t-shirt, begging him to take it off as you lay open chested below him. He only chuckles at the realization, seeing that he’s still fully clothed, way too preoccupied with you to take care of himself.
He does as you ask and more, tugging off his t-shirt and his jeans, leaving him in only his boxers. You feel a wave of slick come through your panties at the sight. Tattoos and muscles stare back at you. You try to ignore the halfy he’s sporting in his boxers, a pure reminder of the activities you wanted to give to him as a thank you for taking you for a ride on his bike.
But he’s quick to turn you down when you sit up to do just that, hiking his fingers under your pants and sliding them down along with your underwear. He throws them somewhere on his floor, falling to his knees to admire you.
“Oh honey,” he marvels at the sight, sliding a slender finger gently up your folds. “You’re soaked.”
You whimper against the back of your hand.
“I-I wanted to suck you off,” you protest, placing a hand on his wrist. Not because you necessarily want him to stop, but because you were scared about how good his touch feels already. “As a thank you.”
“What for, baby?” He stops playing with you, his spare hand cups your thigh. Soothingly, his thumb rubs against your skin, waiting for your answer.
“For letting me ride with you,” you respond.
“You don’t need me to thank me for that, sweetheart,” he smiles gently. “I’d allow you to ride with me any time you want. I need to thank you for trusting me enough to want to,” he takes your hand in his. Those big doe eyes capture yours, asking for permission with stars in his eyes. “Will you let me?”
Fuck, will this man be the end of you. Of course you will, you’re basically leaking infront of his face.
You nod, and he shyly smiles again. The hand that had previously slipped up your folds springs to life again. This time, it circles your entrance gently, causing you to whimper into your skin. Hot lips envelope your clit, his tongue playing with you softly.
“K-Kook,” you gasp at the feeling. He only hums, his eyes closing when he applies more pressure into your leaking heat. The vibrations from his moans against your clit cause you to arch your back, your head falling back against the sheets when his fingers play in tandem with his tongue. They tempt over your cunt, circling your hole and gathering your juices just enough to make you go crazy.
He detaches his mouth for a brief moment, his lips covered in your heat, red with lust, as he watches you squirm when he replaces his thumb with his tongue over your clit. His mouth always does wonders, but something about his thumb against that ball of nerves makes you clutch onto your orgasm for dear life. It’s firm against you, not too harsh, but just enough to make you feel all of it when he circles it slowly underneath his thumb. Jungkook pulls your hips closer to the edge of the bed, completely in control as you let him thank you. He watches you carefully as he inserts a finger into your aching pussy, seeing how you gasp and grab onto his wrist. But he’s stronger than you, and you’re fully aware of that. You also don’t want him to stop—your grasping onto him a mere reaction for support.
“Does that feel good, baby?” He asks you. He’s so gentle, always so cautious at first. You know at one point he’ll become a sex demon and ram you into the sheets. But he’s being a sweetheart right now, wanting to coax an orgasm or two out of you first. He does it right.
“Mhm,” you solidify. Your answer is weak, too taken over by the sliding of his finger against your walls.
“Do you want my mouth?” He asks. You know he’s asking permission, well too aware that the combo is a recipe for an orgasm.
“Y-yes, please,” you give it to him.
He chuckles at your polite response, although it takes over his desire in ways that he’s struggling to control. You’re just so sweet to him, always so perfect in every way. He couldn’t ask for anything more. You’re perfect. And you’re his.
He replaces his thumb with his mouth again, this time moving faster than before. His pace quickens, and he adds another finger to your dripping cunt. The feeling makes you dig your fingers into his hair, pressing him against your pussy. It gets him high, moaning against your cunt shyly as he curls his fingers against your g-spot.
“Jungkook, m’ gonna cum,” you whine into air. Both your hands secure his head on your mound, as if he’d leave before you finish.
He feels you clench around his fingers, so damn tight his cock twitches in his boxers embarrassingly. But he ignores it, taking his mouth off your cunt to give you his thumb again. The change makes you arch your back, the coil in your tummy slowly unraveling beneath him.
“There you go,” he coaxes you. “Good girl.”
You gush at the nickname. White heat flows around his fingers, and he replaces them with his tongue as you finish against his lips. The sensation is almost too much, your over sensitivity making you whimper and close your thighs around his head to stop him.
“K-Koo,” you whine. “Sensitive.”
He finishes up at your request, swallowing your release sweetly. He leaves you gently to stand up, tossing his boxers somewhere on the floor. You’re left to catch your breath, an arm over your eyes as you gasp into the air of his bedroom. Only when you feel his familiar frame tower over you again do you look up. You’re met with a sweaty man with wet lips and a lovestuck smile plastered on his features.
“You okay?” He kisses your forehead.
“Mm,” is all you have the strength to say.
You feel his thumb pry your mouth open.
“Open for me,” he asks you anyways. You mewl when you see him gathering spit in his mouth. He transfers it to you rudely, and you feel you might just cum again from the sheer force of it. He’s so hot, you feel overwhelmed.
You feel it enough to gain the strength to flip him over when he’s off guard, straddling his hips with his biker jacket on your shoulders.
“What’s this?” He grabs your waist. God, you look so good in his clothes.
“Let me give you a ride this time, Kookie,” you suggest.
He swears he’s never heard anything hotter in his life. It makes his dick leak with precum, your suggestion paired with his favorite girl in his favorite jacket ontop of him.
Your soft hands lay on his chest for support as you lift up your hips. He helps you, grabbing your waist with his big hands. You grab his cock, so big and just for you, lining it up with your wet cunt. You slide it in with a small gasp of your lips, and you swear you see his eyes roll back slightly at the feeling.
“Oh,” you softly gasp as he fills you up. The stretch is so good from this angle, filling every inch of your walls up to the brim. You feel all of him, and he can feel all of you, too. You know it with the way he grips your hips, telling you to give him a minute when you reach the base.
You give him just that, before you test the waters again and start a pace.
“Fuck,” he tilts his head back. You riding him is an entirely different sensation, his thighs slack and your ass bouncing on his cock as you use him for pleasure. You feel so good, you always feel so good. So perfect for him.
“Koo,” you mewl as your hands plant for support just below his rib cage. Your hips move perfectly, bouncing on his cock like it’s your day job. It’s exhausting, but it feels too good to stop. You won’t until it’s too much, until you can’t do it anymore.
You see why Jungkook likes to be on top most the time. The view from this angle is sickening. You see the sweat coming down from his scalp and neck. It begs to make entry into his forehead, and you hope at one point it does. Brown hair flops and lays over his skin and the sheets blow him. His Adams apple bobs every time he moans and swallows. You see every scar, mole, and blush this man presents to you. You feel entirely privileged that he is all yours.
He catches you staring, his big hands that you love so much cup your thighs on either side of his hips.
You feel sweaty in his jacket, already knowing it probably smells like sex and sweat already. You feel flush from the heat, and he seems to take note, coming up to hug around your waist with one arm and push off the jacket with the other. His legs dangle over the edge of the bed, supporting you on his lap as the jacket falls to the floor.
“So pretty,” he hums against your lips. His cock throbs inside of you, and you beg for friction, pushing your knees against the mattress and sliding up and down ontop of him again. “You like this, huh? You like fucking my cock?”
“Yes,” you whine against his neck. You feel like a horny teenager, unable to get enough of the man beneath you.
“So needy, baby,” he helps your pace with his hands on your hips. It’s quicker, making you dig your fingers into his scalp as you moan against his neck. “You like riding me? Tell me which one you like to ride more, my bike or my cock. Hm?”
“Y-You,” you respond almost immediately. But he doesn’t seem to like your answer, his hand landing a harsh slap against your ass that causes you to dig your nails into his shoulder.
“I can’t hear you, baby,” he kisses your neck.
You somehow muster the strength to face him again, your hips changing direction slightly to rock back and forth against him. It makes your cheeks feel numb and your fingers tingly, his dick pressing against your g-spot so delicately.
You nudge your nose against his, his cherry flavored lips ever so slightly touching yours.
“You,” you repeat. “I like to ride you more than anything.”
That seems to do it for him, your short ride of dominance ended as his lips take you over. He kisses you until he’s got you in your back again, his body obsessed with your own.
“So perfect for me,” he kisses you. “Let me fuck you good, yeah? My perfect baby.”
You can only nod, ready to come back to your throne as pillow princess. Your boyfriend takes your thighs, hiking them up around his back before he rams into you.
He fucks you like he’s in heat, needy and overwhelmed. His tip hits you in all the right places, causing you to arch your back into his chest. You scratch at his tattoos, chanting his name against his neck as he makes you feel good over and over again.
“Never gonna let anything happen to you,” he grunts against your ear. “I love you too much.”
“J-Jungkook,” you gasp. You try to say your words, but you’re hit with euphoria with every thrust he delivers into your body. “Koo, I-“
“I know, baby,” he shushes you, a kiss to your cheek.
But he doesn’t really. You don’t know how to convey to him how much you love him. It’s impossible to say and yet so obvious to feel.
“Just cum for me, hm?” He suggests.
“C-Close,” you tell him. The man seems to know your body more than you know it yourself, his lips reattaching to your sweet spot so delicately, it doesn’t match up at all with the way his hips piston into you. “Jungkook,” you gasp when he sucks there. The familiar feeling in the pit of your stomach returns, and you feel warm throughout your entire body.
With his hair in your face, lips on your neck, and hands caging your body beneath his, you tighten around his cock, unraveling for the second time underneath the man above you.
You feel him twitch, knowing he’s not that far behind you. He moans so sweetly against your neck when you tighten around him, his hips losing rhythm as you cum on his dick.
“Sso tight,” he groans against your neck. “I-Is inside okay?”
“Y-Yes,” you sigh against his ear. You’re so fucked out, so obsessed with him. You really don’t know if there’s a request out of his cherry lips you can deny.
“Oh, ah—“ he grips the sheets, balling them up in his fists. “M’ gonna cum.”
You simply run your hand through his hair, gripping it strongly as he thrusts harshly inside you. It overstimulates you, and you pant his name against his scalp as his seed spills out of you in hot, thick ropes. His moans are like music to your ears. So breathy and sweet. You swear you’ve never heard anything more lovely in your life.
The two of you calm down, your sweaty bodies absolutely filthy with summer night air, the smell of motorcycle exhaust, sex, sweat, and cum. It starts to make you cringe after a while. Ever the attentive one, your boyfriend notices and comes up from his place by your neck.
He gives you a soft smile before pecking your lips gently.
“I’ll start the shower,” he offers, pecking your lips again.
You let him leave you for a few seconds. Feeling cold and bare, you get up and search for your clothes. But you’re unable to find them, probably kicked somewhere underneath the bed. You only see Jungkook’s t-shirt and his jacket from before. So you slide the t-shirt over your head, feeling giddy again with the smell of him engulfing your senses.
With sore legs and an aching core, you walk over to the bathroom, hugging your man from behind like you did on his bike just an hour ago.
“This is my favorite part,” you start, holding him tighter.
“Hugging me?” He asks.
“Mhm,” you confirm.
You feel him laugh a bit in your arms, turning around in them only to poke at your frown.
“I like to hold you close. Especially when you go fast suddenly and I get a little scared,” you look up at him.
The shower mist fills up the mirror, and the heat lulls you into the feeling of sleepiness his aftercare always gives you.
“I never want to scare you,” he kisses your forehead. “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” you lean into his palm, his hand holding your face close as he kisses your swollen lips softly.
“Now, let’s get you cleaned up,” he cups your hips.
You open your eyes, watching him eye the shirt you’re wearing.
“Seriously, baby, you gotta stop wearing my clothes,” he slides his t-shirt over your head. “It’s doing things to me.”
“Maybe tomorrow I’ll wear your biker suit then,” you wiggle your eyebrows.
“Now that would murder me.”
***
[End. Do not copy. Original work of @jungkookstatts , 2024]
Oh, you definitely chose my most favourite heart-breaking songs for fic when she loved me. 😭 Truly coincidental, but I gotta tell ya, When she loved me is so underrated, but it's so good, but it also hurts. Basically one of my childhood song, but it feels different now that someone recognizes it, you btw. And the singer is to be blame why the song is still stuck in my head, in no rush forgetting. Her voice, like she's crying too. And Jessie in that scene?! Please, it was devastating, I cried for her when I was a kid. "You never forget kids like Emily, or Andy... but they forget you." 😭 Oh and Up theme song? I don't know the songs name but I know my shit. Not underrated, but of course, no one can argue that everybody cried for Carl and Ellie. No matter how buff and tough y'all are. AND THAT'S OBVIOUSLY JUNGKOOK AND Y/N. They 100% represent them, hard. Hope Jungkook heals. Hope we all heal. Hope you heal.
Hii! I'm so glad you felt the same connection to the songs as I did. Both songs tear me apart 😭 I truly cannot listen to these songs often as they just make me sad lol. I hope we all heal 🥲. Thank you for the read 😭