Combative [1/1]

Combative [1/1]

Pairing: Jungkook x reader

Genre: PWP (i.e., pure filth), comedy, sex pollen

Summary: Fuck Jungkook or die. That’s it. That’s the story.

Relevant tags: Assassins AU, porn without plot, friends to enemies to enemies, fuck or die, aliens (seokjin) made us do it, edging, oral sex, multiple x10 orgasms, mild size kink, mild corruption kink, superhuman sex toys, overstimulation, mean!jjk, softdom!jjk

Masterlist

One hot summer, somewhere in Barcelona, Black Ops Agent Jeon Jungkook is about to put a bullet in your leg when he:

flips his motorbike over a stubborn cobblestone, and

goes careening into a fruit stall, and

rips through the storefront tarp, thus

tumbling through some bizarre interspatial portal into a foreign vessel... because, apparently, karma said so.

"Welcome, human male. My name is Seokjin," a lilac-haired, dual-antennae alien greets, hovering over Jungkook with a put-upon smile. "We shall wait for human female before commencing."

Jungkook sits up, scrubbing at his face, half-wondering if there was something in the muffin he stole from you earlier.

No matter. He cocks his gun at Seokjin.

Seokjin warns, nonchalant, “It will not work.”

Because he’s paid by the hour and because he’s a good ten minutes behind schedule, Jungkook fires anyways.

The bullet sails right through Seokjin, bounces off the wall, and hops back into Jungkook’s lap.

Jungkook squints. “What.”

Seokjin sighs, “Human male, weapons do not work in this dimension.”

So, as any well-trained assassin would, Jungkook tosses his gun and climbs up from the floor.

“I presume people still die in this dimension,” He says, and is about to lunge at Seokjin when an equally well-trained foot shoots through the exact portal he was dumped out of and lands square on his jaw.

"Yah, Jeon Asshat,” You snarl, kicking him out of your way as you flick chunks of shrapnel from your shoulder. “Did you seriously catapult yourself into an alternate dimension after ALMOST KILLING ME—"

"Human female has arrived," Seokjin announces, needlessly.

“Who...” you start, then pause, taking in your glowy metallic surroundings and Seokjin’s name tag and Jungkook’s abandoned gun on the floor.

But Jeon Jungkook never abandons his gun.

"I didn’t hit your head, did I?" You check, not that you’re concerned.

Except possibly a bit.

Jungkook climbs to his feet and dusts himself off. “Hey, did you eat a muffin earlier?"

“What muffin,” you say, eyes narrowing. "Were you the one who stole my muffin."

Of course, this is when Jungkook decides to hear nothing.

“I guess that means this is real. We really are here,” he concludes, turning to Seokjin, whose antennae bob bashfully, “Why are we here again?”

Too impatient for any AU that does not involve strangling Jungkook with your bare hands, you grab him by the cuff of his leather jacket and start hauling him towards the portal door. "Let's go, asshat. We have a score to settle."

"Alas, humans, you may not depart," Seokjin says, and the portal door conveniently winks shut, "not before you consummate."

Jungkook stares.

You stare harder.

“Consummate?” Jungkook laughs, slow, bewildered, maybe a smidge intrigued, "Consummate... what?"

“Consummate,” Seokjin gesticulates at the two of you with a sparkly blue pen, "Each other."

You rip off Jungkook’s jacket and chuck it humorlessly at Seokjin. "That’s enough. Come on, Jeon Asshat. Work day’s almost over."

And yes, Jungkook would love to resume the act of throwing your unconscious body off a bridge so he can finally get the promotion he deserves, but his feet aren't totally cooperating.

Actually, they’re inching towards you.

And then, as if pulled by invisible strings, his arms are lifting on no will of his own and then his fingers are tangling into your hair and bringing it to his nose and since when was it so soft and why does it smell so good.

“Uh,” Jungkook blinks at you rapidly, pupils blown wide open. “Nice shampoo.”

You scowl at him, meaning to cross your arms, except you can’t move a muscle.

Nani the fuck.

"For your information, I have already prepared several practical surfaces," Seokjin explains helpfully, "for when human male mounts human female."

You’re physically frozen but your lips are thinning into a sweetly homicidal smile, and crap, Jungkook thinks, how does one dispose of alien bodies in outer space.

"What the fuck," you ask Seokjin, calm, ready to murder, “gave you the impression that this asshole would mount me?”

Unbothered, Seokjin brings up a large projector, filling the space between you with holographic projections of you in some unimaginably wild positions, bent like a master yogi, wearing racy skimpy lacey lingerie you can’t quite recall owning.

“What is this?” You ask, horrified, but also kind of flattered because you’re pretty sure your tits are not that big.

“It is Jungkook’s,” Seokjin starts, then glances at Jungkook for permission.

Jungkook’s got the distinct countenance of tomato when he clarifies, ears burning red, “My dream.”

“Your dream,” You echo, incredulous. “Really. You seduce women for a living, and you dream of me.”

“Not his dream, in fact. His fully conscious, totally focused imagination,” Seokjin clarifies.

“For fuck’s sake,” You chuckle, unimpressed. “You wouldn’t.”

Eyes suspiciously averted, Jungkook takes the fifth.

“Hang on,” You gasp, “You? You?” and you can’t quite fathom how to put wank and Jungkook in the same sentence so you just point to his crotch and whisper, faintly, “To me?”

“Your pants were tight in Ibiza,” Jungkook admits, cheeks dark. “Like super tight.”

“We were diving and my pants were a standard-issue wet suit,” You cry.

"So," Seokjin says, generally disinterested in this discourse, and checks his watch. “Ready?”

Momentarily, the invisible strings holding the two of you in place seem to loosen because you finally manage to knock the pen out of Seokjin’s hand and stab it into his face and--

“Not gonna work,” Jungkook says, friendly.

--and the pen just melts through him.

You gape at the astoundingly useless pen and back at Seokjin, “...what?”

“Human female, you may return to earth once he mounts you,” Seokjin says, unfazed, taking his pen back from you.

You don’t mean to scream but you have a temper thing that therapy hasn’t entirely resolved so you shout, face blazing red, "What makes you think I'd let anyone, but especially Jeon Jungkook, top me in any fucking universe—”

"My data indicates human male is older," Seokjin argues, as the holograph flips to a chart of the two of you, side by side, 3D renderings of your bodies in disconcertingly fine detail, “and is in possession of a sizeable penis.”

Jungkook’s cheeks darken more.

“I wouldn’t say huge,” He says, obnoxiously humble.

“Your hubris would be well-deserved,” Seokjin informs him. “It is the largest of all participants to date.”

“But I’m stronger,” you argue, attempting to steer the conversation around. “I should do the mounting.”

Seokjin lifts a questioning brow.

“Fine,” You concede weakly. “I’m faster.”

Like a fucking asshole, because he is, Jungkook just smirks.

"No,” you insist, pontificating aggressively, “I’ve won every hand-to-hand combat we’ve been in since Johannesburg. I’m faster.”

Jungkook shrugs, condescending, “To be fair, I haven’t really been in combat since Johannesburg.”

“Let me go,” You tell Seokjin, “and I’ll show you.”

Jungkook’s smirk grows wider.

“Certainly,” Seokjin agrees. “But I must first inform you of the rules.”

“There are rules?” Jungkook asks, as if he’s actually interested.

“Yes,” Seokjin says. “This chamber has been designed so that, should both parties not reach a state of orgasm at the same time and intensity, both shall die. Should the condition be met, however, both parties shall be returned to Planet Earth.”

“Who designed this chamber,” You snarl, fists clenching. “I demand a word with him.”

“I designed the chamber,” Seokjin says, unperturbed. “And you have twelve hours.”

Very interested and very full of himself, Jungkook says, “I need two hours, tops.”

“Same time,” Seokjin reminds him, obscurely. “And same intensity.”

“Same intensity? What does that even mean?” You frown.

In lieu of a response, Seokjin retreats into a small, translucent capsule at the other end of the vessel. As the shiny door closes behind him, Seokjin says, “I will leave you to find out. I thank you for your contribution to science today.”

And the invisible strings loosen entirely.

You turn to face Jungkook, eyes narrowed with menace, “If you so much as think of fucking me, asshat, you will perish.”

Jungkook runs his tongue over his lip and says, in the self-assured way that makes your blood pressure rocket, “Funny, you’ve never managed to kill me before.”

Seokjin’s discombobulated voice crackles over the intercom, “Eleven hours and fifty-five minutes remaining.”

Half an hour later, you find yourself upside down.

Literally.

Jungkook’s holding you upside down, arms wrapped firmly around your waist, head digging down between your legs, and actually, you’ve been in this position before, that one time in Macau when you wrestled him into a pit of komodo dragons.

But presently, you’re not in Macau. No, you’re listening to some alien rip into a fresh bag of popcorn and declare over the intercom, with abject disinterest, “Eleven hours left.”

Suffice to say, komodo dragons would be better.

“Fight me,” You yell, kicking into the air as Jungkook nudges aside your underwear. “I’ll rip your antennae—”

“Focus,” Jungkook reminds you, and buries his whole face into your cunt. “Do you want to die?”

“I am focused,” You snap, trying not to shake with the way Jungkook’s decided to warm up by pushing his tongue inside of you. “You suck someone’s dick upside down.”

“Need help?” He asks, into your cunt.

You pull his half-hard, stupid heavy cock out of your mouth and tell him, “Fuck you.”

Apparently, that’s permission for Jungkook to slam you against the wall. Just one step forward and his cock has jammed all the way down and into your throat, so much of it at once you choke and gag at the same time.

Pawing at his leg, you moan, “Mmffff! (the fuck!)”

Jungkook pauses and peers down at you. Whatever he sees makes his lips quirk. His cock swells inside of you, so big that you can’t breathe for a second.

But Jungkook wouldn’t care about you, of course not. Instead, he just groans and fucks himself in deeper, because he wouldn’t know the meaning of sportsmanship if it socked him in the eye.

Eventually, he asks, like he gives a shit, “This better?”

“AFFHHH (Asshole),” You moan, tongue cramped against his tip, lips rubbed raw, words muffled around a mouthful of cock. And Jungkook, only mildly interested in what you have to say, pulls out for maybe one second, which is barely long enough for you to gasp and cough and sputter a haggard “No, ass—”

Before he plugs you up again.

“Can’t do that,” he tells you, breathless, sounding far too pleased with himself, “for both our sakes.”

Well acquainted with Jungkook’s brand of pettiness, you roll your eyes and play along, because what other choice do you have.

Over the next five, ten minutes, Jungkook doesn’t slow down one bit, just keeps fucking your mouth until your eyes are stinging and your jaw literally feels like it’s about to snap off. It’s an invasive feeling, being used like a piece of meat, but what’s factually worse is that it’s Jeon Jungkook.

You’ve heard the rumors about Jungkook, the things he do in bed--and there are plenty of them--but no number of words can come close to the way his tongue is kneading greedily into your slit, gliding meticulously over each crease, panting hard against you, licking up every drop of slick until there’s nothing left.

And then, as he pulls away to speak, his tongue grazes over your clit.

In a really weird way.

“SSAAUPH,” You shriek, attempting to force him off of you.

Jungkook pulls his dick out of your mouth. “What was that?”

“Stop, I’m going to come,” You tell him weakly.

“Great,” He tells you, about to shove his dick in again.

“NO,” You jab towards Seokjin’s capsule, “Remember? Together? The rules?”

“You can come twice,” Jungkook shrugs, unconcerned, and does that thing with his tongue again and—

“You are so fucking dead,” you vow, shivering uncontrollably.

—he does it harder--

“FUCK,” You scream, legs trembling pathetically over his shoulders, back arching against the wall. “I WILL KILL YOU.”

Jungkook laughs, every kind of fucked in the head, “How? Certainly not by entertaining me to death?”

You could totally just bite his dick off, you could totally do it, but you also need him alive to—

With scientific curiosity, Jungkook nips a bit more at your clit and then sucks on it.

“ESSHU FFAA KOWW (JESUS FUCKING CHRIST),” You wail, legs jolting uselessly as they squeeze tight against the sides of his head.

“Not trying to kill me again, are you?” Jungkook sneers, dark. Once again, he rubs his tongue in that exact angle over your clit and your entire spine just liquifies.

You gasp and gag and you want to sob but you can’t. You can’t even breathe.

“Full transparency,” Jungkook says, thrusting casually into your mouth, not nearly enough to get off on it, albeit enough to keep you quiet and muffled. He’s kind of just playing with your clit for fun now, a mischievous little glint in his eye each time your body quakes in overstimulated shock. “I’ve always respected your tenacity.”

Then he realizes you aren’t responding anymore because you’re about to pass out, so he puts you down and props you up against the wall.

“Hey, hey,” He greets, snapping rapidly at your face. “Wake up, weakling. I’m not even close yet.”

As soon as the blood drains back out of your head, you snap your leg out into a front kick, but Jungkook just catches you by the ankle and holds you down, like you’re nothing.

“Stop calling me weakling,” you demand, struggling feebly against him.

“Face it,” Jungkook reminds you, completely civil, then wedges himself between your legs and lifts your hips up until your pussy is just hovering before his face. “You’ll never be able to kill me. I’m stronger, faster, better.”

Too exhausted to argue, you squeeze your eyes shut and mutter, “Lies.”

There is a long tense pause and Jungkook doesn’t move. No, he simply holds you there, breath washing up cold against you, waiting for you to look up at him.

When you do, he catches you dead in the eye and grins, “Wanna bet.”

You don’t hold onto useless things like pride, but you do have a limit.

“I can destroy you,” you grit out. “Easily.”

“No you can’t,” Jungkook shrugs.

So you push all your weight off your forearm and twist sideways, throwing Jungkook into the floor. He tries to roll you forward, but you’ve fought him a million times. You know all his favorite moves like the back of your hand.

And besides, you were the one who taught him judo.

In three seconds, you’ve got Jungkook pinned beneath you. As he rolls onto his back, his dick smacks up wet against his stomach, tip shiny with precum.

“Would you look at that,” you tut, bending easily over him until your mouth is hovering over his cock, “Maybe I do want to bet.”

Jungkook’s cock twitches up in excitement.

Feigning otherwise, he says, “Yeah, sure, blow me to death.”

Nah, you hate him far too much to do that.

Instead, you push the flat of your tongue against his balls, curling one into your mouth, and Jungkook moans and shakes like he’s about to combust, so you bring your head down again and suck the other one into your mouth too and Jungkook…

“Is that a whine?” You laugh, patronizing, but your voice reverberates into his balls and the muscle of his stomach jumps and, OK, that’s objectively hot.

“Fuck,” He groans, too on edge to pretend otherwise, “Jesus, fuck, do that again.”

You think about it, then decide to let him out of your mouth.

“God,” Jungkook cries out, eyes widening with dismay, “put it back.”

You’re starting to see the appeal of this now. “Say ‘(Y/N), you’re stronger, faster, better than me.’”

“Believe me, I can make your life so miserable,” Jungkook threatens adorably.

“Of course you can. Say,” You sing, licking up a slick, flat trail up the side of his cock. “(Y/N), you’re stronger, faster, better than me.”

Jungkook wilts and cants his hips towards your face, ears pink, so unbecomingly embarrassed. “…You’re faster.”

You pop his tip into your mouth, rubbing your lips against where it makes him tremble, “And?”

“Stronger,” Jungkook admits, voice rough. “Better.”

Pleased enough, you take his cock into your mouth. It’s huge, stupidly, uselessly big, but you’re generous enough to down it. All of it. His precum tastes salty and metallic and you swallow, throat clamping tight around the head of his cock, and—

“Holy fuck,” Jungkook groans beneath you, as if he’d actually cry. “Oh my—Jesus—fuck me—”

And his balls, you suck those up into your mouth, too.

“WHO,” Jungkook yells, voice wavering like a leaf in the wind, craning up to see what you’re doing that feels like that.“WHO ARE YOU.”

You let him go, if only because you can’t have him come too many times. Jungkook, without missing a beat, reaches up and pulls your knees down beside his shoulders, until you’re collapsed over him.

“We’ll make it out here alive,” you tell him. “So I can kill you.”

“You'll kill me anyways,” he agrees half-heartedly, parting your lips with both hands,  lapping up at you like a man starved.

You only need to hollow your cheeks out around him and bob your head maybe half a dozen times before Jungkook starts shaking, his cock rock hard against your throat.

“Fuck,” he mutters, and thrusts two fingers eagerly into you, digging right where it makes your vision white.

And, like a miracle, he bucks into your mouth at the exact same time.

You come hard, stars misting over everything you can see, mouth filling with globs of Jungkook’s release. Without warning, Jungkook grabs you by the neck, forcing you down to take all of him.

A moment later, slumped bonelessly into the ground, Jungkook says, as an after thought, “Sorry.”

You sit up beside him, lips swollen, hair a right mess, Jungkook’s come dribbling off your chin. “You’ve done worse.”

Not quite able to look away from your mouth, Jungkook asks, “Seokjin, can we go?”

There is a pause.

“No,” Seokjin says. “You must achieve orgasm in a mating position.”

“A mating—,” you yell, pelting a high-heeled shoe at Seokjin’s capsule, “I will kill you.”

“Yes she will,” Jungkook yells in solidarity, plucking your other shoe off and throwing it, “And I will help her.”

“Good luck. I’m immortal,” Seokjin says.“Ten hours remaining.”

And the intercom buzzes off.

“Don’t get any wrong ideas. If I fuck you,” You inform Jungkook, as one professional to another, “It is strictly for survival.”

“Not me,” Jungkook says, simply to get a rise out of you. “I’ve always wanted to fuck you.”

“Seriously,” You huff, climbing over him.

“It’s true,” Jungkook mumbles, staring shamelessly at the way your hand is wrapping around his cock, fingers just barely meeting around it. Somehow you can actually feel his arousal flare when you line his cock up against your entrance.

He stops breathing, momentarily, hands stone tight on your thigh as he watches you lower yourself, as if it’s the last thing he’ll ever see.

And it’s cute, how wrecked the world-renowned Jeon Jungkook looks.

But then the problem presents itself.

It’s a massive fucking problem.

It doesn’t fit.

“What the hell,” You yelp, frozen tentatively mid-air, brain hardly comprehending the thought.

Well no, you kind of realized it before, when Jungkook fucked your mouth so full it felt like your jaw would snap off but, why the fuck is he so big?

Clearly too preoccupied with warming his cock to care, Jungkook ruts up half-way against you. But half-way already feels like he’s splitting you open, and what the fuck, surely that is not natural, surely—

“You’re so fucking tight,” Jungkook groans, guttural, grinding deeper into you, just a bit. Honestly, he’s hardly moved, but the sheer thickness of his cock, the fact that somehow it seems too long to be real, too fat to fit your tiny pussy, it takes the air out of you.

But Jungkook doesn’t notice you, of course not. He doesn’t see how your brows have knotted together, doesn’t see your mouth parting slowly, doesn’t feel you clutching helplessly at him. All he sees is the delicious way your pussy is parting for him, hot and tight and—

“Shit,” he hisses, looking drunk for no reason, and his hands come to grab at your ass, and you just know what’s next.

“Wait wait wait wait WAIT A MINUTE,” You scream, attempting to move, but then Jungkook just grabs you and yanks you down all the way onto his cock, buries himself balls deep inside of you. The sheer pressure of it knocks every single thought out of your head. Your eyes roll back. Your jaw snaps wide fucking open.

And Jungkook, somehow, sees that.

“Fuck,” He rasps, eyes clouded with arousal, inching out just enough to thrust into you again, “You look fucking hot.”

“I’m going to,” You start, but the words come out in a whimper. “Jungkook, I’m—”

Jungkook sits up half-way and pulls you into him and you had something to say, you did, but presently you can’t figure anything out except the way Jungkook is kissing you and fucking you at the same time, bouncing you like a toy over his cock, grunting into your mouth like you’re the one fucking all the thoughts out of him.

And then, with broken moan, Jungkook snaps his hips into you and—

“Are you kidding me,” You snarl, feeling his cock throb inside of you.

Still in a haze, Jungkook blinks, “What?”

“Asshat,” You hiss, furious, “You understand that I refuse to die on your dick.”

“Oh,” Jungkook stares.

Then his thoughts catch up and he hisses back, as if he has any right, “Do you think I’m enjoying this!”

“As a matter of fact,”Seokjin comments, “The pleasure center in your brain is lighting up like a disco, human male”

“Did I ask,” Jungkook says, with shame.

You sneer.

“Human female too,” Seokjin says. “Fireworks for you.”

Jungkook turns to you, gaze darkening and brewing, “Fireworks, huh?”

“Whatever,” You scoff. His cum dribbles out of you as you climb off of him, and Jungkook’s stare intensifies.

He says, sounding oddly serious, pointing to a table-like structure to the side, “Wanna try it from behind.”

“What do you m—”

Wordlessly, Jungkook throws you over his shoulder and drops you over the table, fucking into you with the urgency of a dog in heat. His hand comes to grab at your hair, pulling you back into his cock so he can fill you to the hilt with each thrust.

Craning over you, Jungkook sucks greedily at the nape of your neck, at your shoulders, and when he feels you gasping, feels your walls convulsing around his cock, your legs buckling, he holds you upright by the hips.

And he says, into the shell of your ears, tone hot and cold at once, “Not yet.”

“What,” You start, but then Jungkook pulls out, until there’s nothing but the head of his cock at your entrance.

“Wait for me,” He says, guiding your jaw towards him.

This time, he rocks into you slowly, not nearly enough for anything.Instead of pounding you, he mouths over your neck, your ear, your chin. By the time his lips graze yours, you’re fucking yourself up against him, soft needy whines pouring steadily out of your lips.

“Just fuck me, asshat,” you plead.

Jungkook decides, dry and low and so fucking conniving, “Is that how you say please?”

“Please,” you repeat, louder, face burning with shame. You’d honestly rather die but at the same time you’re so closeit’s actually insane. “Please fuck me.”

“Should say that more often,” Jungkook grins, pressing a chaste little kiss on your mouth before he rams into you, so hard you totter over the table. Jungkook locks your wrists in his grip and angles you up, so that you’ve got nowhere to go but take his cock as he pounds the daylight out of you. The air fills with the wet squelch of his cock driving into your pussy, the dull thud of the table leg against the floor as he drives you to the edge, over the edge, entirely off the edge.

When he comes, Jungkook bites down into your shoulder and shudders with his whole body. He collapses bonelessly into you.

But then Seokjin says, “That was very close, but not the same intensity.”

“But,” You start, trying to think. “But.”

“Ohhh,” Jungkook says, enlightened, “That’s what you meant.”

“What the fuck do you mean,” You mutter, murderous, spinning to glare at Jungkook, “Ohhh?”

There is the slightest hint of an apology in Jungkook’s voice when he says, “I can’t help it. It’s my third time.”

You stare.

“Yah, asshat,” You shout, “IT’S MY FUCKING FIFTH.”

“But your pussy is so,” Jungkook says, and he squeaks the tiniest little “sweet”

At this point, probably concerned for the life of his male subject, Seokjin remotes a cabinet open and says, supportively, “The female orgasm has always proven elusive. Perhaps mechanical stimulation would help.”

“I DON’T NEED MECHANICAL STIMULATION,” You cry, except Jungkook’s already armed himself with an arsenal of neon, dangerously wiggly weapons. “SEOKJIN, TELL HIM.”

“The round one has proven particularly effective,” Seokjin says, traitorous.

“This?” Jungkook picks up a little soft, squishy looking pad.

“Yes,” Seokjin says. “It is a virtual model of her erogenous zones. I advise you touch it.”

Curious, Jungkook strokes one finger over it.

And you feel it on your cunt.

“What,” You gasp, tripping over yourself, falling into the floor in a heap. “What was that.”

“Was what?” Jungkook asks, then strokes his finger over it again.

You mutter, crawling backwards so fast you don’t even see the wall until it bashes into the back of your head. “Jeon Jungkook.”

“Hey,” Jungkook says, brain cells working away. “Cool.”

“What are you doing,” You whisper, eyes wide, thoughts forming and seizing at the same time.

Jungkook blinks, and with a childlike sort of malice, pushes his finger into it.

And his finger is inside of you.

“WHAT THE FUCK,” You shriek, putting your own hand on your pussy, covering it as if to bar him from entry.

It doesn’t work.

He’s still inside of you.

Amused, Jungkook digs around a little.

For the lack of a better word, you lose it. “JEON JUNGKOOK—I WILL—”

“Will what?” Jungkoook asks, curling his finger right into where it makes you scream, and your eyes roll all the way back.

“Ahh,”you whine, sounding so unbearably needy.

“I like that voice of yours,” Jungkook grins, and then he puts his tongue on it.

You squeeze your legs shut but his tongue, the wetness, the heat, the firm pressure against your clit, it just makes you quake and buckle and Jungkook, like he doesn’t know, asks, “How does it feel?”

“Like hell,” You lie, face hot, body hot, burning all over.

“Come here,” He says, sweetly, stroking a hand over his cock. He doesn’t have to, though, it’s already so hard it springs up with each step that he takes.

“Don’t you dare,” You tell him, attempting to crawl away.

But Jungkook is making you weak, turning you inside out, and he doesn’t even have to try to capture you.

“Take one for the team,” He says, caging over you, spreading your legs, thrusting into you, mouth on the pad, eating you out and fucking you at the same time. It’s the weirdest single feeling on planet earth and it takes less than a second for this explosive pressure to bubble inside of you, to the point where you can feel your muscles spasming and--

“Oh,” Jungkook gapes, marvelling down at the pool of liquid gathering beneath you,  “Oh wow. Did you just…”

You’d rather just die. “Don’t say it.”

“That’s amazing,” Jungkook whispers, stars shining in his eyes as he stares at you. “Do that again.”

“Maybe mechanical stimulation is not the right approach,” Seokjin weighs in. “It appears human female has been over-stimulated.”

“Aw,” Jungkook pouts, disappointed.

“WHY ARE YOU POUTING,” you shout, smacking the toy out of Jungkook’s hand. “SEOKJIN, MAKE IT END.”

“That is not up to me,” Seokjin says, diplomatic.

“Sorry,” Jungkook shrugs. “I’ve already come four times. It’s going to be hard for me to come again.”

You really shouldn’t. You know better than this.

But Jungkook’s fucked the sense out of you, so you tell him, “Just do what you have to do.”

So Jungkook, after much deliberation, says, “Get on your knees.”

Because you’re the patron saint of idiocy, you do.

The next thing, Jungkook’s fucked into you all at once, cock slamming hard into your pussy. Without thinking, you writhe up against him, and you can just feel his chest shaking against your back as he laughs, wicked, fond, despicably mean, “I need a little more.”

“What the fuck else can you possibly--” you start, but then Jungkook wets two fingers on your slick and dips it into your ass and, “FUCK, JUNGKOOK.”

“Hang on,” Jungkook tells you, and then his fingers come to stroke at his cock from inside of you, kneading and rubbing at your wall, pinching it between his cock and his finger. And on top of being fucked so full--

“I’M GONNA,” you scream, head snapping back.

Nuzzling into your neck, Jungkook grins and pulls out completely, “Wait.”

“No,” you whine, voice trembling, feeling so unexpectedly empty. “please no.”

Like the devil, Jungkook just licks into your mouth, kiss hot and dirty and wet. This time, he fucks you slowly. Meticulously. Like he’s trying to work you open from the inside. When he bucks into you, finally, minutes later, he does so with a hollow, dry grunt, and allows you a hand on your clit.

You come so hard you don’t even hear yourself screaming.

“Good try,” Seokjin says, after a pause. “Not quite.”

You climb barely enough out of unconsciousness to demand, blearily, “Whose fault is it now.”

Seokjin says, “Yours, human female. You were a bit late.”

A bit out of sorts, you mumble, “Ah.”

“Or,” Jungkook says, nice in a way that almost doesn’t seem real. “I could have been early.”

“You still have five hours left. Imagining positive feelings for one another may help.”

You ponder that thought for a second.

Jungkook says, “Very funny, Seokjin.”

Why do you hate Black Ops Agent Jeon Jungkook?

Many reasons.

He’s arrogant, petty, and morally incorrigible, sure. He’s the poster boy of unrepentant evil, sure.

It’s worse than that.

Once upon a time, a very long time ago, you met seven year-old Jungkook at the judo dojo. Jungkook was smaller than you back then. He had a playful grin and a freakishly competitive streak. Then, three years ago, you ran into the same Jungkook at a bar in Amsterdam. He’d covered himself in tattoos, grew his hair out, and spoke to you in a tone that made you flinch. But when he smiled, he looked sweet and naive, like he hadn’t aged a day since grade school.

And so, a real fucking idiot, you invited him to crash on your couch.

But the next morning, Jungkook disappeared. You found in his stead the corpses of your colleagues, strangled and stabbed and broken, littered across your living room like trash.

He can’t be that bad, you thought.

It must’ve been someone else, you thought.

Six months later, Jungkook sent you a bouquet of live grenades and a card that read, “Lighten up.”

Shit, you thought.

A gift who refused to stop giving, Jungkook kept in touch. Last year, he broke into your apartment and rearranged all your plants. This past Christmas, he “accidentally” threw your fiancé off a building. Yesterday, he nearly crippled you.

And today, he’s got you caged under him like he owns you, his mouth hot on your breast, cock buried so deep inside of you it makes you cry.

So apparently, the universe has decided it shall be Jungkook who fucks you to death, because maybe that was written in the stars all along.

And yeah, you hate Black Ops Agent Jeon Jungkook. You wish him nothing but the worst.

You do.

Around the seventh hour, you’re barely awake when you feel your hips being canted up.

Quietly and without preamble, Jungkook picks you up and sits you down on his dick. He fucks you like that, while you’re half-conscious, bouncing your body up and down his dick, biting and sucking on your nipples, your neck, your lips.

At some point, after he’s fucked you completely awake, you reach back and palm at his balls.

“Fuck,” Jungkook groans, inhaling sharply, and you know his body well enough to know he’s come. “Why did you do that?”

In lieu of an answer, you push him to the floor and roll your hips over him, grinding tight and fast until he starts squirming beneath you, an incoherent string of ah ah ah ah because he can’t help himself.

You could stop, sure.

But you’re going to die anyways, so whatever.

“Who’s doing the mounting now?” You smirk, watching the way Jungkook’s jolting off the floor, and bend to kiss at his nipples.

It’s either the words or the nipple but somehow, that’s when Jungkook loses it.

Without warning, he grabs you by the neck. He throws you to the floor and drags you into him in one fluid movement.

Next is Jungkook fucking the absolute hell out of you. The way he moves, it’s as if he’s only pulling out enough to fuck back into you. He fucks you so hard and so relentlessly that when you come, your vision whites out. For the longest time, you can’t register a thing except Jungkook’s cock pushing so deep inside of you it feels like you might just split in half.

But Jungkook doesn’t stop. He doesn’t let you move. He traps you there, gripping down on your ass like he’s trying to sink his fingers into it, fucking you without control, without care, like a fucking animal. He fucks you into the ground, his hard, flushed cock squeezing past your lips, pounding into your sloppy, twitching hole, slamming into where it’s raw and sore and swollen.

You don’t know when he comes. You don’t even know when youcome.

Honestly, you wouldn’t even know if you died. And well, you’re fucked too dumb to care.

Eventually, when you wake, you find Jungkook slumped on top of you, breaths shallow against the nape of your neck.

“Seokjin?” You call out, tentative.

There’s no answer.

“Do you think he’s going to kill us,” You wonder.

“To be fair,” Jungkook says, rolling off of you. He tugs you towards him, until your head’s resting on his shoulder. You don’t think it belongs there, but you’re also too tired to move away, so you just stay still and listen to him talk. “I did always think we’d end up dying together.”

“Huh,” You squint.

After a long beat, you admit, softly, “Me too.”

The truth is, you do hate Jungkook. To the bones, to the very fiber of your being. You do, but.

But hypothetically, if you had to be killed with someone, perhaps Jungkook would not be the worst option.

After a moment, the intercom buzzes on.

“My apologies, humans. Did you ask for me? I took a coffee break.”

“You’re allowed coffee breaks?” Jungkook asks.

“Yes, when the experiment’s over,” Seokjin says, around a mouthful of trail mix.

“What do you mean…” You blink your eyes open, mouth twitching, “the experiment’s over?”

“It ended two hours ago. I announced it.”

You sit upright and parrot, very articulately, “You what when.”

“Human male heard me. I’ve been wondering why you were still here.”

You turn to Jungkook. “You heard him?”

Jungkook opens his eyes a crack, gazing up at you in that old, familiar, lazily homicidal way, and hums, “Maybe I did. Maybe I didn’t.”

“Listen to me, Jeon Asshat,” you inform him. “You are a dead man.”

Jungkook just smiles. “I know.”

“Let’s never meet again,” You announce, beside a Barcelonian fruit stall.

Jungkook flips down the shield of his helmet and agrees, easing into the seat of his jet black motorcycle, “Never.”

“So, tell me,” Jimin asks, as he flags down a waiter, “what do you do for work?”

“Not much,” You say, tracing your finger over the wineglass. “Topple governments, sabotage arms deals.”

Jimin stares at you, then bursts into laughter. “What the hell, you got me!”

“Did I really,” you say, about to giggle, but then you feel something.

Something on your pussy.

Sliding into your pussy.

You rip your gaze away from Jimin and, three tables over, chin resting in one hand, Black Ops Agent Jeon Jungkook casually licks a flat, hard trail up a round, familiar-looking pad, and winks in greeting.

It’s you (JJK)

pairings: yan!popular boy jk x shy!fem reader.

warnings: YANDERE BEHAVIOUR, JEALOUSY, POSESSIVENESS… tox*c behaviour, reader has social an*iety… do not romanticise this behaviour! kinda soft koo!

note. From the Drabble reqs! anon I hope you enjoy! Share feedback everyone, I’m sorry if this doesn’t make sense cuz I’m only studying these days so my brain is fried… 💔

GIFS ARE NOT MINE CR. TO OWNER, I found them on Pinterest!

It was something you always struggled with.

Insecurities had their own way of finding you, every single time you were with your boyfriend, jeon jungkook.

He was the most popular guy in the campus, a guy like him was every girls dream, that bunny smile was worth millions, just a smile from him and you’d see the whole room light up.

Those bambi eyes were shiny, just like the galaxy above, especially whenever he saw you.

You, his girlfriend Y/N L/N.

You were, well, average as you’d describe yourself. There was nothing special about you that should’ve stood out to Jungkook.

As you thought.

But if you ask Jungkook about you, anyone would get tired of him praising you, to him you were the most gorgeous woman he’d ever seen.

You were interesting, so much that Jungkook lost his heart to you.

Not that he regretted that. Frankly speaking… you were the only person in his life that made him feel so happy.

Jungkook was head over heels in love with you, and he’d made sure that you’d see that, expensive gifts, unique perfumes, and so many different chocolates…

What not you would find in your locker every single day.

Before you began dating, you’d find various expensive gifts in your locker along with a pink envelope addressed to your name written in a sloppy handwriting.

“I wish that you would notice me…

this is for you, I hope you like it… I love you, please enjoy”

—yours forever,

J.JK.

Those intials, it didn’t take you long to know who was your secret admirer. But you didn’t care.

You didn’t want to accept his affections. After all, why would he be in love with a girl like you, unless he had an ulterior motive?

So you, crumbled that letter and threw it in the bin. Not aware of the glossy eyes watching you quietly.

A few days passed as the chocolates rotted away in your locker, you were relieved that he didn’t try again.

As time passed your suspicions only confirmed that he was only playing with you when there was no response from him. Your heart broke at that, you couldn’t lie.

But it was good in a way because you weren’t interested in someone like him…. And he couldn’t care less right?

Wrong.

Today was a good day, your only cousin had transferred here to your campus, and you were waiting for him so you could welcome him, tapping on the floor with your shoes, you hadn’t realise that a tall figure was walking towards you.

The sound of the person walking towards you caught your attention as you looked up and smiled,

He was here! Finally you won’t be a lonely loser anymore… and you’ll finally have a friend that understands you.

But it quickly faded as your eyes settled on the man infront of you. “Missed me?”

That voice… that oddly familiar voice didn’t belong to your cousin…

It was Jungkook’s.

“W-What?” Your eyes widened at his smiling face, he leaned against the locker, nibbling on his lower lip, staring at you. “Did you miss me?” He asked again.

He was playing innocent with you. You rolled your eyes at him. “No?” You replied in a dry tone, turning your face away from him, “also can you leave? You’re kinda in the middle of the way to my locker…Jeon.” You continue,

Your heart skipped a beat unknowingly,

you heard him sigh as he quickly pushed you against the locker.

“Why?!” Jungkook’s action caught you off guard as your mouth opened in shook when the locker hit your back. You saw anger flash in his eyes. “W-What is wrong with you!?!” You stuttered, still shook.

Your heart thumped inside your chest, his gaze was burning, his gaze scared you. “What is wrong with me?!?” He clicked his tongue as you saw his veins start to pop out, the people gathering around you two.

Gasps of shock left them. But none dared to interrupt. “I fucking love you! But you don’t care!” He growled, his grip on your hand tightening. “Why Y/N?!? WHY?” There was a broken look in his eyes, but you saw it disappear.

The people gasped loudly at his sudden confession, you didn’t feel surprised, but goosebumps appeared on your skin.

His voice wavered, as if he’d cry any second. “T-There’s people watching…” you could barely whisper, your social anxiety was rising.

“I DONT FUCKING CARE! W-Why don’t you love me back?!? WHY DONT YOU GIVE ME A CHANCE?!?” He cried, desperation dripped in his voice.

“I-I..” you didn’t know what to say. Seeing Jungkook like this only scared you more.

There was pure craziness going on in his eyes.

“D-Do you think there’s someone else?!! T-That I’m only playing you?!?” You watched Jungkook’s face twist into confusion as he asked you.

You didn’t reply.

“it was you, it is you, and it’ll always be you and only you. you’re stupid if you think otherwise”

Your heart only hammered against your chest more… at his words, his tone was gentle and full of love.

“S-So please Y/N give me a chance… to love you.”

He said that as his lips crashed onto yours.

Love to Hate (Ch. 7)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Genre: Fuck Buddies / Enemies to Lovers

Pairing: Jungkook / Reader

Synopsis: Born with a silver spoon in your mouth, you’ve done your best to rid yourself of the taste since you were old enough to walk. Occasionally though, your mother manages to rope you into an obligatory function – or a blind date with playboy billionaire, Jeon Jungkook. Jungkook stands for everything you loathe about the world you left behind, but you can’t deny the spark of attraction between you. Intrigued by the promise of mutual satisfaction, you agree to one night in bed… and quickly realize you’re in far, far deeper than you ever intended.

Rating: 18+ 

Warnings: semi-public sex, breast play, fingering, dirty talk (hypothetical cum play, possessiveness), spanking, multiple orgasms, somewhat rough sex

TW: descriptions of past emotional abuse (gaslighting, manipulation, coercion), angst (!)  

Word Count: 12,479

Author’s Note: links to be updated at a later date!

Keep reading

feel better | jjk (m)

⇢ summary; your boyfriend arrives home after the Grammys, seeming annoyed and disappointed. and as his girlfriend, you want to make him feel better.

pairing; idol!jungkook x f. reader

word count; 1,848

rating; 18+

warnings; angsty, oral sex (m. receiving), bit of praising, tiiiiny bit of dom!jk, unprotected sex, cream pie, the ending is pretty soft

a/n; just to be clear, this is NOT me saying this is how jungkook felt after the scammys last night. it’s just fiction and i honestly have no idea how he must’ve felt after not winning last night but i hope none of them are too hard on themselves !! awards do not matter to us and we love all seven of you no matter what <3 forever proud of our boys 🥺

ps. i really hope this isn’t bad lolol, i quickly wrote this for y’all and i didn’t edit so bear with me, thx <3

↳ this is a ‘hair dye: the collection’ drabble !

Keep reading

Lay Waste to Me | One

Description: Lead theoretical physicist and Professor, Jeon Jeongguk takes an alarming interest in you.

Ship: Broke Graduate Student Reader x Wealthy Professor JK!

Genre: Yandere Behavior, Obsession/Stalking, SMUT, Angst

Disclaimer/Note: I do not condone Yandere behavior, read at your risk as this mini-series will contain murder, gore, and obsessive stalking of the reader. This is part one of a mini-series with ONLY 3-6 chapters.

wc: 7.5k

Taglist Form Here!

You

It’s 9:30 P.M., you’re deep in the evening shift, hauling platters of wings and six-pound burgers when Jeon Jeongguk sits down at one of your tables.

You almost drop your tray of cocktails.

Jeongguk cuts such a striking figure that almost everyone at the sidewalk tables stares at him. Women within a hundred-yard radius are suddenly compelled to smoothen their hair and check their lipstick. Even your boss, Jim, squints and frowns, asking the hostess if someone famous just sat down.

Jeongguk has that effortless off-duty model look. He’s tall, muscular, and elegantly dressed in clothes you know cost well over five figures. But what really tops it off is his careless arrogance. You’ve convinced yourself that if you were hit by a semi-truck going ninety on a sidewalk, he wouldn’t even notice.

He sees you long before you see him. He’s already smirking, his dark eyes glittering with malice under the dimmed light of the restaurant. He’s so stunning that it increases your distrust of him. Nobody that beautiful could be good, it’s impossible, you've seen enough movies to differentiate between good and evil.

“Bring me one of those sparkly cocktails,” he orders.

You think you hate him. A wave of anger surges inside of you at the sight of his godly face. Jeongguk’s expression doesn’t change as you turn your attention to him.

“You’re supposed to wait for the hostess to seat you,” you mutter, resisting every possible urge to not roll your eyes.

“I’m sure you can handle one more table,” Jeongguk says, looking around the surprisingly empty bar to push you just one button further.

You might as well have taken that idiotically expensive tie around his neck and strangled him with it. Instead, you tightly smile and ungraciously thrust a menu into his hands.

When you return a few minutes later with his cocktail (extra edible glitter), he says, “I want you to eat with me.”

“I can’t. I’m kind of in the middle of my shift, y’know, like my job.”

“I’ll wait.”

“No, you won't,” you snap. “You can’t sit here that long.”

“I doubt Jim will mind. Should I go ahead and ask him?”

Jim? Since when was he on a first-name basis with your boss? How did he even know Jim's name? “Look,” you hiss. “I don’t get what you’re trying to pull, giving me the grant for my research. But, you can’t buy me off that easily.”

“I’m not buying you off,” Jeongguk says, deadly black eyes fixated on yours. “I already told you what I had to say, I don’t care what you think of it.”

“Then why’d you give it to me?”

“Because your's was the best.”

His compliment hits you like a slap. He sounds completely matter-of-fact. And god, you’d like to believe it. But, you don’t trust him, not one fucking bit.

You're a third-year Ph.D. student at one of the best theoretical physics departments in the world, one that housed more than one hundred grads and what sometimes felt like an infinite amount of undergrads.

It’s been three weeks since Jeongguk— a Professor in your said department— granted your research project to be fully funded by no one other than him. Granted, you did submit your paper to his office (along with quite literally all of the other ambassadors) but that’s because you were almost certain he’d outright deny you.

Jeon Jeongguk, more infamously known as Dr. Jeon was the reason behind an abundance of late graduations; the sole culprit for half of the students in the department being forced to postpone their thesis. Not to mention, he forced your roommate, Jimin, to scrap two of his research projects and completely start from scratch—mid-semester.

You vividly remember Hyuna, Jeongguk’s assistant stopping you three weeks ago. “I have good news for you,” she said, running up to you.

“You do?”

“Yes, Dr. Jeon and his team have reviewed all of the research proposals… and you’ve been chosen for the grant!”

You stared at her, dumbfounded.

“You’re joking, right?”

“Not at all, congratulations!” She passed you a slim envelope with your name neatly handwritten on the label. “There’s your check. You’ll accompany Dr. Jeon at his conference in one month to propose your research to a panel. I’ll email you the details for making use of his building.”

A week later, Jeongguk, showed up at your job for the first time ever, staring daggers into your direction. At the time, you hadn’t even known it was him. You assumed he was another hotshot coming in to pick up the bartender, Krystal. You nearly threw your entire tray of various drinks at him until he introduced himself.

“Finish your shift,” Jeongguk says, dismissing you. “Then we’ll talk.”

You finish your evening shift, feeling his eyes on you everywhere you turn, every move you move. Your skin burns and you fumble through tasks you usually could perform in your sleep.

He was mental. There was no reason for someone like Jeongguk to be hauled up at this run-down bar of all places. You could count six much more lavish bars that would be way more fitting for him.

“What’s with him?” Jim asks you, nodding in Jeongguk’s general direction.

“Sorry— he’s waiting to talk to me. He’s funding my research.”

“Like your Professor?” Jim questions, peeking around the corner to get a better look at Jeongguk.

“No, well yes— he is a Professor, but not mine. He funds like half of the school and somehow granted my proposal.” You toss your head, irritated that Jeongguk has invaded all aspects of your academic and now personal life.

“He looks rich as hell,” Jim snickers. “You should ask him out, Professor and his student, eh?”

“No fucking way.”

“He is rich though, isn’t he?”

“Yeah, unfortunately,” you admit.

“Knew it.” Jim nods, wisely.

“He’s wearing Alexander Wang, you’re not exactly Anna Wilson here.”

Jim gasps fakely, placing his hand on his chest as though someone just shot him. “You better drop the attitude or he’ll never date you, missy.”

You wish you could slap Jim and Jeongguk at the same time, with both hands.

“Well, go ahead on to your Prince Charming, I’ll finish your stuff off,” Jim says.

“Thanks,” You respond, not actually grateful. You’d much rather deal with drunk-off their ass old men and frat boys for another two hours than sit and talk to Jeongguk for five minutes.

You take your apron off and plop in the seat opposite to Jeongguk.

“Listen, whatever the hell you’re trying to pull—“

You’re interrupted by Jim, who apparently has decided tonight would be the night to wait a table for the first time in a decade so he can have the pleasure of observing your annoyance up close and personal.

“Good evening!” he sings. “What can I get for this fine couple?”

Jeongguk turns to Jim with a smile of such sincerity that you could only gape at him. His entire face has transformed, suddenly animated. Even his voice softens, becoming warm and humorous. You pinch the flesh of your hand to make sure you’re not dreaming, you wince at the jolting pain reminding you that you are very much awake.

“___ was just telling me how hungry she is,” Jeongguk says. “I want to treat her to all her favorites— I’m sure you know what she likes.”

“How incredibly generous,” Jim says, eyes wide behind his spectacles.

Your hand brushes the full glass of water before you, itching to swing it directly at Jim.

“I am quite generous,” Jeongguk says, grin widening. “Thank you for noticing.”

Jim laughs. “And to think she didn’t want to spend her evening with you.”

“Is that so?” Jeongguk questions, patting your hand in a way that makes you feel murderous. “She never knows what’s good for her.”

Jim is enjoying this ordeal so much he doesn’t want to leave to punch in your order. You clear your throat several times, sending him daggers until he decides to finally get the memo.

As soon as he’s gone, you snatch your hand back from Jeongguk.

“I don’t need you,” you inform him.

Jeongguk snorts.

“The fuck you don’t. You’re broke, barely can afford to pay off your shitty apartment. You have no connections and no cash. I don't think you understand how grilling this field can be. You absolutely need my help, sweetheart.”

You wish you had a counterargument to that.

All you can do is scowl and say, “I’ve gotten quite far with what I have now.”

Jeongguk lets out a long sigh of annoyance.

“I think we both know that’s not true. Let's be honest, you're not doing so great in the real world. But now you’ve met me. In a few weeks, you’ll be joining me at my press conference. I could recommend you to the best Physicists in the world with my connections. You have no idea how many doors I could open for you, darling…”

You cross your hands over your chest. “In exchange for exactly what, Dr. Jeon?”

Jeongguk smiles. Now, this was his genuine smile— not the one he put on for Jim minutes ago. There’s nothing warm or friendly about it. In fact, it’s fucking terrifying.

“You’ll be my protégé,” he says.

“I’m sorry. What does that even mean?”

“It means we’ll get to know each other. I’ll give you my outstanding advice, mentorship. You’ll follow that advice and you’ll flourish.”

The words he’s telling you sound perfectly benign. Yet you can’t stomach the feeling that you’re about to sign a devil’s bargain with a hell of a hidden clause.

“Is there some kind of sexual implication here that I’m completely missing?” You say. “Are you the Epstein of the Physic’s world?”

Jeongguk sits back in his chair, sipping the sparkling cocktail lazily. This new position shows off his long legs and his powerful chest flexing beneath his cashmere sweater, a display that was beginning to suffocate you.

“Do I look like I need to bribe women for sex?”

“No,” you admit.

Half of your roommates and colleagues would fuck Jeongguk in a heartbeat. Actually, all of them would, except maybe Seokjin.

You bite the edge of your thumbnail, considering it.

“Don’t bite your nails,” Jeonnguk snaps. “It’s disgusting.”

You bite the nail harder, scowling at him.

He’s going to be bossy and controlling, you can already tell. Is that what he wants? A puppet dancing on his strings?

“Can I see your lab?” You ask.

It was an audacious request. Jeon Jeongguk doesn’t show his lab to anyone. Especially not when he’s in the middle of conducting experiments to solve yet another world-renowned theory. You have no right to ask— but you have just the strangest sense that he might agree.

“Already making demands?” Jeongguk says. He stirs his straw through his ice with a cold clicking sound.

“Surely a protégé gets to see their master at work,” you test.

Jeongguk smiles. He likes being called “master.” Sick fuck.

“I’ll consider it,” he says. “Now…” he leans forward on the table, steepling his tattooed, tan hands in front of you. “We’re going to talk about you.”

Is he serious? This happens to be your least favorite topic.

“What do you want to know?”

He looks at you hungrily. “Everything.”

You swallow hard. “I’ve always had a passion for Physics. I lived out in Arizona for a while, until Princeton accepted me for my Ph.D.”

“What about your family?”

Come to think of it, that tops the cake for your least favorite topic.

You put your hands down on your lap so you don’t start chewing your nails again.

“I don’t have any family,” you say.

“Everyone has a family.”

“Not me.” You glare at him, lips pressed together, stubborn.

“Where’s the alcoholic father?” Jeongguk says.

To you, the conversation at his office was a blur of shouted accusations and utter confusion. Jeongguk apparently remembers every word, including the part you blurted out and now fervently regret.

“He's still in Arizona,” you reluctantly mutter.

“What about the stepmother?”

“As far as I know, she lives in California. I haven’t talked to either of them in years.”

“Why?”

Your heart is hammering and you feel that sick, squirming sensation in your stomach that always arises when you’re forced to think about your father. You like to keep her trapped behind a locked door in your brain. He’s emotional cancer—if you let him out, he’ll infect every part of you.

So what if you had daddy issues?

“He’s the worst person I’ve ever met,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady. “And that includes my stepmother. I ran away the day I turned eighteen.”

“Where’s your actual mother?”

“Dead.”

“So is mine,” Jeongguk says. “I find it’s better that way.”

You look at him sharply, wondering if that’s supposed to be a joke.

“I loved my mother,” you say coldly. “The day I lost her was the worst day of my life.”

Jeongguk smiles. “The worst day so far.”

What. The. Fuck. Is. Wrong. With. Him.

“So Mommy died, leaving you alone with Daddy dearest and not a penny between you,” Jeongguk prods you, wrinkling his nose as he can still smell those awful years on your skin.

“There are worse things than being poor,” you inform him.

“Enlighten me, then,” Jeongguk says, one dark eyebrow raised.

“No,” you say flatly. “I’m not your evening entertainment.”

“Why must you make everything so difficult?” he says. “Have you ever tried cooperating?”

You laugh. “In my experience, when men say ‘cooperative’, they mean ‘obedient’.”

He grins, leaning closer. “Then, have you ever tried being obedient?”

“No.” You lie.

You have tried it. And all you learned from it is that no amount of submission is ever good enough for a man. You can rollover like a dog, beg for mercy, apologize profusely and they’ll keep beating you.

Jeongguk’s dark eyes rove over to your face, giving you an uncomfortable sensation that he can see through every thought you try tirelessly to keep hidden.

Thankfully, you’re saved by Jim depositing several familiar platters of steaming food in front of you two.

Only after Jim leaves you does Jeongguk examine the food with his usual critical glare.

“What is this?” he demands.

“That’s the bacon sampler platter,” you say, nodding toward four marinated strips of premium pork belly labeled with a fancy script like each is a guest at a wedding.

Jeongguk frowns. “It looks . . . intense.”

“It’s the best thing you’ll ever put in your mouth. Look,” you cut off a bite of the rosemary balsamic bacon. “Try this one first.”

Jeongguk takes a bite. He chews slowly, his expression melting from skepticism into genuine surprise.

“Holy shit,” he says.

“I told you—try this one now. Brown sugar cinnamon.”

He takes a bite of the second strip, eyebrows rising and an unwilling smile tugging at his mouth.

“This is so good.”

“I know,” you snap. “That’s why I work here. It’s the literal best food in the city.”

“Is that really why you work here?” Jeongguk asks, watching you closely.

“Yes. The smell of food—I can’t stand it if it’s not good. The food here smells incredible because it is incredible. Here, try this now—take a sip of the cocktail, then eat one of the spicy-sweet potatoes.”

Jeongguk does exactly what you said, taking a small sip of his drink, then quickly biting into the potato.

“What the fuck,” he says. “Why is that so good?”

“I dunno.” you shrug. “Something about the sour citrus and then the pop of salt. They amplify each other.”

Jeongguk is watching you as you eat your own food, taking a small bite of one thing and then another, cycling through your favorite combinations.

“Is that how you eat?” he says.

You shrug. “Unless I’m in a hurry.”

“Show me more combinations.”

You show him all your favorite ways to eat the magnificent brunch spread Jim laid before you both—lemon curd layered with fresh strawberries and clotted cream on the scones, blueberries between bites of maple bacon, a dash of hot sauce mixed in with the hollandaise . . .

Jeongguk tries it all with an unusual level of curiosity. You’d assume somebody as rich as him has eaten at a million fancy restaurants.

“Don’t you eat out all the time?” You ask him.

He shakes his head. “I don’t spend much time on food. It bores me.”

“But you like this?”

“I do,” he says, almost as if he hates to admit it. “How do you come up with all this?”

You shrug. “I never tried most foods until I started working at restaurants. I’d never tasted steak, cilantro, or avocado. I wanted to try everything—it was like discovering a whole new sense.”

“But there was a time when you weren’t poor,” Jeongguk says, harrying that point like a dog with a bone. He’s really not gonna fucking drop it.

“Yes,” you say testily. “When we lived with Melissa.”

“That’s your stepmother.”

“Yes.”

“What did you eat then?”

“Not fucking much. She used to scream at me if my spoon clinked in my cereal bowl.”

“How old were you?”

“Seven.”

Jeongguk’s relentless . . . and hypnotic, the way he fixes you with those deep, dark eyes, never looking away for a moment. The way he absorbs everything you say with none of the usual displays of sympathy or irritating commiseration. He just soaks it in and demands more, like he plans to drill down to the core of you, strip-mining your soul.

He insisted on paying for the meal, leaving an extra hundred-dollar bill as a tip for Jim— something you’ll never hear the end of.

You can already see how he uses his money to manipulate people—including me. You cashed that seven-thousand-dollar check because I had to. You were not only late on rent but you owed Jimin somewhere around four hundred dollars for spotting you the past two months.

Jeongguk knows exactly how much leverage he has over you, and he isn’t shy about leaning on the lever.

And yet, despite the fact that he’s clearly callous and manipulative, you still find yourself walking with strange lightness down the campus streets to your sparkling new lab in his building.

Maybe because he wasn’t trying to make you feel better. In fact, it’s the first time you’ve ever mentioned this topic without hearing the words, “But it’s your dad . . .”

Jeongguk offered no sympathy. He also offered no excuses. No fucking platitudes. No lies.

You spend the afternoon working on studying light. You’ve never felt such confidence in your work. You bend over the display of water and turn on the main lamp above it, you then take the wooden dowel to your left and make indentations in the water.

The idea is already there, inside the depths of your brain. Perfect and whole—all it needs is to be unveiled.

You spot something in the reflection that you hadn’t noticed before: a camera mounted above the door, pointed into the lab. You frown, turning your face away from the lens.

Why the hell is there a camera in here?

Is it recording all the time?

Something in the back of your brain tells you yes, it most definitely does.

You suddenly feel self-conscious, replaying your behavior all afternoon. Did you talk to yourself? Scratch your ass? Pick your nose?

You’re suddenly paranoid that Jeon Jeongguk is watching you.

He unnerves you, and you don’t fucking trust him. Your talk at the bar didn’t help to ease what his intentions were. Sure, he said that you’d be his protege. But, when a man takes a special interest in you, it’s never good.

As your leaving, you stop at the cafe on the ground level, treating yourself to one of the iced lattes Hyuna promised were so good. She’s not wrong—the coffee is rich and perfectly prepared.

Hyuna herself comes through the front doors as I’m leaving.

You kind of wish she hadn’t caught sight of you, since she’s dressed in a stylish scarlet pantsuit, her hair freshly blown out and her lipstick immaculate. Whereas you look like you spent the night riding around in the back of a garbage truck.

“Oh, ___!” she says, “You’re here early.”

“Hey,” you say nervously. “Just leaving, actually. I came in extra early—I hope that’s okay.”

“More than okay.” She smiles. “That’s why you have twenty-four-hour access.”

“Yeah . . .” you say. “Actually I was curious . . . I noticed a camera in the lab. Right above the door.”

“Oh, yes,” she says. “All the studios have them. It’s for security purposes only—we’ve had issues with theft in the past. Don’t worry, no one has access to the feed. It would only be reviewed in cases where an incident has occurred.”

“Sure.” you nod.

You don’t believe a word she’s saying. Jeongguk owns this building, and those cameras are there for a reason.

A week after granting your proposal | Jeongguk

Jeongguk takes his stalking of you online.

Like most people, you’ve splashed your life all over social media for anyone to see—both on your own accounts, and your friends.

You and your friends are a smart bunch, so the photos you share are less eclectic than average. Jeongguk has to wade through any number of sepia-toned lab photos, aesthetic campus photos, and landscape shots to find something useful. Once he does, he finds endless portraits of you.

He spends a long time examining your face. You’re an interesting conundrum. Vulnerable yet fierce. Damaged yet stubborn.

You do not make personal posts—no long, rambling dissertations on your inner feelings under a mirror selfie, and no vague captions intended to elicit a flood of comments begging for more details.

Jeongguk’s already decided that you and he will inevitably cross paths—the Physic’s world is too small to avoid it.

He intends to choose the time and location of that meeting. He’ll control all the elements, arranging the players like pieces on a chessboard.

It’s unlike him to fixate on a woman like this. Jeongguk finds most people horrifically boring. He’s never met anyone as intelligent as him, or as talented. Other people are weak and emotional—slaves to their impulses. Constantly making promises they can’t keep, even to themselves.

Only Jeongguk seems to have the power to control his own fate.

Whatever he wants to happen, happens. He makes it so by his own cunning, his determination.

Everyone else is a victim of chance and circumstance. To arbitrary rules set up by people who died a hundred years ago. To their own pathetic ineptitude.

He does what he wants. He gets what he wants. Always. Every time.

If there’s a god of this world, it’s Jeongguk.

But even Zeus found mortals interesting from time to time.

He desires to see you again, to speak to you. Jeongguk wants to manipulate you and see how you react.

And if Jeongguk wants something . . . that means it’s good.

Jeongguk breaks into your room later that afternoon.

You’re working at that sleazy shit bar, something that usually takes you until 10:00 P.M.

It’s almost impossible to find a point in the day where none of your roommates are home, so Jeongguk doesn’t bother waiting. The apartment is so crowded, with so many people coming and going, he doubts that any of them will notice a few extra creaks from a room that ought to be empty.

It helps that your room is on the topmost floor. It’s easy to scale the trellis of the neighboring house, drop down onto your deck, and force open the flimsy lock on the glass door.

The attic room is certainly not to code. The ceiling is so low that he can’t stand upright, even in the center of the peaked space. Your bed is a futon mattress on the floor, your clothes folded in plastic milk crates because you have no closet or dresser.

This is the sort of cramped, chaotic space that usually disgusts him. The dusty air and stacks of battered secondhand Physics books next to the bed—no bookshelf to hold them—reek of poverty.

Curiosity staves off his repulsion. He’s drawn to the obviously used cover of his very own book. It’s his research paper from when he was a Ph.D. Student, “Fundamentals of Physics” laid prettily in your room.

He smiles to himself.

Of course, you had good— no, great taste.

He sets the book down.

He can smell your perfume on the sheets, stronger than when he followed you a week prior.

Jeongguk lays down in your bed, his head on your pillow. He turns his face so his nose is pressed against your crumpled sheets and he inhales.

Your scent is layered and complex. Warm notes of vanilla, caramel. A botanical scent—mandarin, or maybe black currant. Then something exotic, spiced—perhaps a jasmine soap. Under that, the light scent of your sweat arouses him far more than any of the others. Jeongguk’s cock swells until it’s no longer comfortable within his trousers.

He enjoys the trespass of laying in your bed. Knowing that you may catch a hint of his cologne lingering there tonight. It may confuse or frighten you. Or arouse you, if his chemical composition calls to you as yours does to him.

The idea of your heart beating fast, of you startling awake, searching your room for evidence that someone else was here, amuses him.

Deliberately, he rearranges the order of the books next to the bed making sure to put his on the very top.

Then he looks through your clothes.

You wear cheap nylon underwear, thin and transparent, in shades of black, gray, and purple. How colorful.

Most of your clothes are dirty, stuffed in a drawstring bag to be hauled down to the laundromat.

A single pair of black briefs lies abandoned next to the bed. Jeongguk assumes this is the underwear you shucked off this morning.

Lifting it to his face, Jeongguk inhales the scent of your warm morning pussy.

It’s similar to the smell of your sheets but musky.

His cock is raging now. Jeongguk unzips his pants, allowing his thick dick to spring free. He strokes it gently while he breathes in the scent of your cunt. He even puts out his tongue and tastes the cotton strip that is nestled between your pussy lips.

He remembers the picture of you laying on the ground from two weeks ago, tightly bound, arms behind your back and breasts thrust forward. Your knees pulled back, your bare pussy exposed. He could have shoved his cock in you.

If he had smelled this scent, he would have done it.

Jeongguk’s never experienced anything like it. It’s addicting. The longer he spent in your room with your sheets, your half-empty shitty perfume bottle, your dirty laundry, the more it fills his lungs, surges through his blood.

The more he wants it. Fresh from the source.

Jeongguk’s jerking his cock harder, taking deep breaths.

He imagines you tied down, this time on your back with your legs pulled apart. He imagines burying his face in you, thrusting his tongue all the way inside you while you thrash against the ropes.

His balls are boiling, his cock throbbing with every heartbeat.

Jeongguk wraps the panties around the head of his cock and he thrusts into them, right against the crotch. His cock erupts, pouring cum into your underwear.

He uses your panties to catch every last drop, squeezing them around the head.

That skimpy black fabric feels better around Jeongguk’s cock than any actual pussy he’s ever fucked. Maybe it’s the novelty, or maybe it’s the way your scent still clings to his fingers, lingering in his lungs.

It’s not enough. The orgasm was rapid, powerful as a rifle shot. Jeongguk’s not satisfied.

He wants to watch you in this space. Want to see how you walk around your room, how you undress, how you behave when you think you’re alone.

Jeongguk looks out your window.

The adjoining row houses offer no line of sight into your room. But the house behind hers—the tall Georgian with the black shutters—offers a perfect view from its own attic space.

You have no curtains on your windows. You’re so high up, you feel as safe as a crow in its nest.

Crows forget about hawks.

Jeongguk drops the panties back on the floor where he found them.

Then he leaves the way he came, already planning to call his estate agent.

You

By the time you get from your night shift, you’re already late for your meeting with Minho.

He’s good-looking, decent at sex, and better at conversation, though he has a tendency to get preachy. He’s judgmental as fuck about you bartending at Hybe because he says half the regulars are alcoholics and you’re fueling their addiction. Never mind that you met him at Hybe, and he’s hardly a teetotaler.

You hurry into the house, knowing Minho will be annoyed if you’re late again.

Seokjin passes you on the stairs, likewise hurrying to a date with his long-term boyfriend Taehyung, as you jog up the three flights to your attic room.

“You look gorgeous!” You tell him.

“You too!” he lies.

You laugh. “Don’t worry, I’m about to change.”

You strip off your clothes, sweaty from skating around the park with the dogs. Even though you’re well into October and the sky was cloudy, it was close to eighty degrees, muggy and humid.

You consider rinsing off in the shower, but you don’t really have time. Instead, you pull a black mini dress out of the closet, along with pair of thigh-high boots.

Shimmying into the dress, you look around for some clean underwear. It’s been two weeks since you hauled your clothes down to the laundromat, and you’re in short supply.

Desperate and late, you snatch up the panties off the floor, pulling them on.

“What the fuck,” you mutter, as wetness presses against your pussy lips.

Hooking your thumbs on either side of the briefs, you lower them to knee level.

You examine the crotch of the underwear, trying to figure out if you got your period without noticing. It’s hard to tell on the black material.

Stepping out of the panties, you rub your thumb across the strip of cotton sewn into the crotch. It feels distinctly slippery. Raising your fingers to your face, you smell a faint bleachy scent.

You drop the panties on the floor, heart racing.

You know what cum smells like.

Don’t be ridiculous, you tell yourself. You’ve lived in this house for two years. Nobody comes up here.

Three of your roommates are male, and all three of them are gay.

It’s possible some asshole could have come up here and poked around your stuff. You sweep the room, wondering if you would notice if anything had been moved.

Your copy of “Fundamentals of Physics” by Jeongguk is still right next to the bed, open to the same spot as before.

Other than that . . . how the fuck would you know if someone had been in here?

Your heart hammers against your sternum, your hands trembling as you set down the theory once more.

You’re being paranoid. So your underwear was wet. It’s probably just . . . you know, discharge or some shit.

You don’t want to be this person. Jumping at shadows and thinking everybody is out to get you.

You can’t live like this, terrified and paranoid.

You take several deep breaths, trying to slow your racing heart. You look at your new phone, bought with a credit card.

10:14.

You’re really fucking late.

Snatching up your purse once more, you leave the underwear on the floor and hurry out of the room commando. No underwear is probably better than dirty underwear anyway.

Jeongguk

Jeongguk had a dinner for the Theoretical Physicist Embassy he was supposed to attend, but he skipped it in favor of further reconnaissance.

He found the house directly behind yours listed on Airbnb for eight hundred dollars a night. After messaging the owner, Jeongguk convinced him to cancel his next three bookings so he could take the place for a month, starting immediately.

So intense was his desire to spy on you that he probably would have bought the damn thing.

Jeongguk drove over to the townhouse early in the evening, parking his Tesla at the curb.

The three-story Georgian wasn’t nearly as nice as his own house, but it’s ten times more habitable than yours. The pale oak floors look freshly polished, and the host left a bowl of foil-wrapped chocolates on the kitchen island, as well as stocking the fridge with bottled water.

As long as the house is clean, Jeongguk doesn’t give a fuck about anything else. Strike that—it’s the view he cares about.

He climbs the creaking stairs to the third floor, which includes an office, a small library, and a sitting room.

The library window is the one that looks across the back garden to your house. The beveled glass offers a watery view into the protected alcove of your balcony.

You could be forgiven for thinking that you have complete privacy in that space. The library window is small, set high up on the wall, divided into a dozen diamond panes.

Jeongguk cuts out the entire window with his glass cutters. Then he covers the space with black paper, leaving only a hole for his telescope.

From a distance, it will look like nothing more than a dark window into an empty room.

His efforts are rewarded when you rush into your bedroom only twenty minutes later before he’s completed his preparations.

You rush everywhere you go, running from job to job, always late.

He respects the hustle, but your existence is tawdry and depressing. The thought of waiting tables, taking people’s orders, and serving their food is offensive to Jeongguk.

Jeongguk’s interest in this hectic, desperate girl baffles him.

His desires have never been mysterious to him. In fact, they’ve always felt rational and natural.

Jardin—his mentor— irritated him, so Jeongguk removed him from his sphere. He put his bones inside the sculpture in his apartment as his own private joke.

This is the first time in Jeongguk’s life that he’s desired something without understanding why.

Out of all the thousands of women, he’s encountered, how did you catch his attention like a hook through the gills of a fish?

Jeongguk noticed you the very first moment he saw you when you spilled wine on your dress. You hardly even flinched—just marched into the bathroom, emerging with that makeshift tie-dye that was creative and beautiful.

You had Jeongguk wondering what it would take to break you. To shatter you into so many pieces that you could never put them together again.

The view through the telescope is so clear that he could almost be standing in the room with you.

He watches you strip off your clothes, revealing a lean, taut body with average breasts and wide hips. He’s intrigued to see that you haven’t removed the piercings from your nipples—the twin silver rings remain in place.

As you hunt for clothes, a cold bead of excitement runs down Jeongguk’s spine. He already knows you have no clean underwear.

Sure enough, you spot the discarded panties on the floor. Jeongguk’s heart stops and he can hardly breathe, riveted in place, eye to the telescope, watching . . .

You pick up the underwear and step into it.

Blood rushes to Jeongguk’s cock so fast that he’s lightheaded.

You’re wearing panties soaked in his cum without knowing it. The most intimate part of him pressed up against the most intimate part of you.

You hesitate, standing still in the center of the room.

You’re feeling the wetness of his cum against your cunt.

Jeongguk’s cock is so hard it tents out the front of his trousers.

He loves the thought of his cum on your bare flesh. How long does sperm survive? He wonders if those desperate, minuscule swimmers are trying to wriggle inside you right now.

You yank down the underwear, examining the material.

Jeongguk watches the panic and confusion on your face, his cock harder than it’s ever been.

You touch his cum. Smell it. Then rips off the underwear and flings it away from you.

His whole body is warm and throbbing. Jeongguk can’t remember when he last felt this level of excitement. He’s been so fucking bored lately. Nothing impresses him. Nothing interested him. Until now . . .

Tormenting you without even touching you is so stimulating that Jeongguk can hardly imagine what it would be like to put his hands directly on your flesh . . . to circle them around your throat . . .

You shift your weight back and forth, trying to decide what to do.

You’re wondering if you felt what you think you felt.

You don’t trust yourself.

Finally, you snatch up your purse and exit the room.

Jeongguk’s already heading down the stairs. You’re not dressed for work—he wants to see where you’re going.

A date, he suspects.

At the thought, Jeongguk’s pupils contract, his throat tightens, his heart slows. He’s cold and focused.

Who do you date? Who do you fuck?

He wants to know.

He exits the townhouse, not bothering to lock the door behind him. He cut across 96th Street, catching sight of you walking ahead in your tight black dress and thigh-high boots. You don’t wear heels often. Jeongguk like how it hobbles you, slowing your pace.

It’s easy for him to track you, walking along the opposite side of the street like a disconnected shadow. Jeongguk follows you to a trendy little restaurant a few blocks away, where you meet some scruffy-faced hipster in a too-tight t-shirt.

Unlike you and your date, Jeongguk doesn’t have a reservation. A hundred-dollar bill pressed into the hostess’s palm solves that problem. He probably could have convinced her just by holding her gaze and letting his fingers trail across her wrist. The hostess giggles and blushes as she heads him to a table he requested, tucked away in a corner.

Jeongguk has no problem attracting women. In fact, it’s too easy. The wealth, the fame, and the looks suck them in before he says a word. There’s no challenge.

He wonders if you will fall at his feet as easily as that hostess.

You don’t seem particularly enthralled with your date. In fact, you twitch irritably as he rests his arm across the back of your chair.

Your date yammers on about something, oblivious to your expression of boredom. He doesn’t seem to notice how you angle your body away from him, only rarely meeting his eye. When he tries to tidy your hair, you jolt away from him.

Jeongguk feels a strange sense of satisfaction in your rejection of this buffoon. It would have lessened you in his eyes if you were besotted with someone so . . . pedestrian.

His pleasure evaporates as your date reaches under the table to fondle your pussy.

In its place: a sharp spike of fury.

Jeongguk wants to rip that hand off his arm, leaving a ragged stump with a bare glint of bone.

Even in Jeongguk’s most extreme moments, when he’s slit the throat of someone he hated and watched their blood run down his arm, his heart rate barely rose.

The feeling of that lump of muscle pounding in Jeongguk’s chest is something new to him—something that makes him sit back in his chair, breathing hard, hands clenched into fists on his lap.

What the fuck is happening.

He almost feels. . . jealous.

He’s never been jealous before. Why would he? No one on this planet has anything he envies.

Yet he’s already decided, with absolute certainty, that no one should be touching that sweet little cunt except him.

He’s smelled your scent on his fingers.

He wants it fresh from the source.

As if obeying his command, you jump up from the table, shoving back your chair. Jeongguk hears your hasty apologies as you throw cash by your plate. Then you leave, abandoning your disgruntled date before you’ve even ordered your entrées.

Lucky for him—Jeongguk was already planning how he’d cut off his balls with a box cutter.

Luckily for hipster boy, he's saved by the expedient of Jeongguk's urge to follow you instead. He's left his own folded bills tucked under his unused fork.

The sky is fully dark, thick with clouds. The wind is colder than before.

He walks back to 96th Street, feeling a curious elation at the prospect of watching you alone in your room.

Jeongguk likes you best in your private space. It’s a look inside your mind—your comforts and preferences.

Settling himself behind the telescope once more, he sees you pacing your room. You are a skittish horse. When you’re calm, you move with grace. But when you’re frustrated or uncomfortable—and you were certainly both in the company of your incompetent date—you become stiff and withdrawn, hypersensitive to irritants.

You haul your mattress out on the small deck attached to your room.

This is all the better for him. He can see you as clearly as a figure in a diorama.

You lay down on the futon, a pair of headphones over your ears. It takes a long time for your breathing to slow, for you to settle deeply into the mattress. Your lips move in time with the lyrics of the song.

You’re so still now that Jeongguk wonders if you fell asleep. Your chest rises and falls with metronome regularity.

The breeze whispers through the hedges in the garden between him and you. It slides across your skin, making you shiver. Your nipples are hard, visible even through the black dress.

Jeongguk hears the soft rumble of thunder.

A few scattered raindrops hit the black paper covering the library window.

You stir, feeling the rain on your skin.

He expects you to rise, to pull your mattress back inside.

But you seem determined to surprise him at every turn.

You sit up. Lift your palm. Feels the rain pattering down.

Then you pull your dress over your head and toss it aside.

You lay down on the mattress once more, fully nude.

Jeongguk lets out a soft sigh, his eye pressed against the telescope.

Thunder rolls and the rain falls harder. It shatters all across your naked skin: on your thighs, your stomach, your bare breasts, your upturned palms, your closed eyelids. It falls in your partly opened mouth.

You’re soaking it in. Feeling the delicious coolness and the tiny impact of each droplet breaking on your skin.

Your expression is dreamy, floating. Soaked in pleasure. Fully relaxed for the first time since Jeongguk has been watching you.

Again he feels that strange, squirming feeling in his guts.

Jealousy.

The rain falls harder, soaking your hair, drenching the mattress, chilling your skin.

You don’t give a fuck.

You reach between your thighs. You begin to stroke your fingers back and forth across your pussy lips. Touching yourself lightly, delicately.

Your lips part wider, allowing more rain into your mouth.

The rain beats against the side of the house. A bolt of lightning sizzles across the sky, illuminating your shining body like a camera flash. Every detail stands out in sharp relief: the long column of your throat, the divot of your collarbone, the points of your nipples, the long, flat expanse of your abdomen, the delicate bones of your hands, the slender fingers slipping inside of yourself.

Jeongguk’s never seen anything so beautiful.

Your bronze as a statue in the purplish light. If he could sculpt you exactly like this, it would be his greatest work.

He wants to pour molten metal over your, freezing you in time forever.

Jeongguk puts his own hand down the front of his pants, feeling the thick rod of his cock, painfully hard.

His skin feels feverish.

He wants to be out where you are, drenched in rain, touching that cold flesh . . .

Jeongguk pumps his cock in time with the motion of your hand.

Your pace quickens, back-arching, head thrown back.

He fucks his hand harder and harder, imagining he’s about to explode over your body, hot cum raining down on you harder than the storm.

Your eyes squeeze tightly shut, your cries drowned out by the rain. Your thighs clamp around your hand, your body shaking.

Jeongguk’s cumming for the second time today, a hot flood that pours over the back of his hand, dripping down onto the floorboards.

He can’t tear his eyes from the telescope.

He can’t stop looking at you for a single second.

Kisses and coffee || Jungkook (m)

✵ MASTER LIST ✵ WIPS

A/N: The gif is not mine, I found it on Google >_<

┉┈ Pairing: Jungkook x female reader

┉┈ Genre: fluff, smut, established relationship

┉┈ Warnings: fluff, explicit language, smut, biting, oral (f+m receiving), licking, sucking,sex on the couch, etc.

┉┈ Summary: spending time with your boyfriend while it's raining, is one of your favourite thing to do.

┉┈ Word count: 1.3k+

Working from home can be a pain in the ass, sometimes. Few days ago the government suddenly announced that it's going to be locked down again, for they don't even know how long. Things are still fucked up. But you're thankful that you live with your boyfriend. Otherwise you would have been crying due to boredom.

As you'd mentioned before, work has became harder. Both you and Jungkook are occupied with work most of the time. It's Saturday, which means no work for today and tomorrow. (Yes they're still giving everyone off days)

When you woke up from your afternoon nap, you noticed it's raining heavily. Not that much but it's dark outside. Jungkook is still sleeping in your chest. His arm wrapped around your waist protectively, almost as if he let go of you, you'll disappear; it became his habit.

You carefully remove his long hair from his face, to see him clearly and kiss his forehead. His hold tightens, letting you know he's awake now. His lips pursed; kissing your chest and he giggles. You ask him "Did you have a good nap?" He nods his lazily. He asks with a deep and raspy voice "It's raining?" You say 'yes' as you massage his scalp, slowly. He hums in response. "Let me make coffee and let's watch anime" you tell him softly and in reply he whines and kisses your neck; his habit to say, he wanna stay like this for a while.

But you refuse; you know he won't let go of you. "If you don't let me go right now then I won't kiss you for 2 days" This! You really know how to do your job. Sighing,he nods his head with a little pout on his face. "Okay, just because I love you" he says quietly, trying to trap you with his guilty face; you know all his little tricks.

When you came back after making coffee, Jungkook had already turned on the TV and laying down on the couch with a big, fluffy blanket. He smiles, showing his bunny-like teeth when he saw you coming out from the attached kitchen with two coffee mugs in your hand. Even though the apartment you guys live in is not that big, it's luxurious and perfect for you two.

"Sit up and drink this, before it gets cold" you tell him, smiling lightly when you see him looking at you with that bunny smile. He obeys like the baby he is.

You've missed this type of time. Like, both if you are laying on the couch, his left hand on your stomach, rubbing it slowly and his other hand is under your head; cuddling while watching a movie. Even though you guys are staying at home, due to the pandemic, you guys don't have free time except Saturdays and Sundays.

Quickly finishing the coffee, you two sprawl down on the big couch, giving every attention towards the big TV in front of you guys. Jungkook is behind you, his front is pressing against your back. You can feel his hard and sturdy abs and his semi hard dick. You wonder if he got hard because of the movie. But you chose to ignore; don't want to ruin this beautiful moment between you two.

As usual Jungkook's one hand is under your head and another hand is in your arms, slowly lifting up your shirt– well it's his but you snatched it from him, saying that you'll buy him his favourite banana milk. He's a sucker for banana milk, so he gave his shirt without saying anything. It is big for you but you don't mind it though. It's cold anyways.

Half way through the movie you can feel Jungkook's hand slowly going towards your boobs and he gently started pecking your neck; tongue out, licking the place he had just kissed. You jolted a bit when you felt his hand kneading your left boob and fingers lightly squeezing your nipple. Troughing your head against his shoulder, you moan. Moving your head towards him, you kiss him hungrily. Teeth clashing, it's a sloppy kiss due to the position you guys are laying right now. His hand left your nipple, dragging it down to your pussy. You were just wearing his shirt and your panty which made it easier for him. He almost tore the thin material. Hand grazing on your clit. He starts moving his fingers on your clit. Gathering your wetness, he slowly cups your pussy, making you moan out loud due to the pleasure he's giving.

Jungkook knows your body more than you do or anyone. He knows how to make you feel good, make you feel like you're the luckiest person on this planet. Jungkook is an absolute gentleman but a filthy freak on the sheets. His gaze is enough to make your knees weak.

Your left hand trails to his abs, to the band of his sweatpants, you pull it down just to feel his dick right away. God! This man is going to be the death of you. He isn't wearing anything underneath his thin, gray sweatpants. You quickly put your hand on his hard dick, thumb circling on the tip, making him hiss in your ear while his hand is moving into your pussy.

You start pumping his dick at a faster pace faster, from the base to the tip. He's a brat, just as you're about to cum he removes his hand quickly making you groan. You know he wants you cum when he is inside of your tight cunt. He lifts himself from behind you, hovering above you. He makes you sit so he can finally take off that annoying shirt from your body. His mouth found your, kissing you roughly. Tongue swirling against yours, he sucks your bottom lip, bitting it he drags it slowly making you moan again. He detached his mouth, kissing your jaw, neck. Licking and biting them roughly, making red, purple hickeys. His tongue trailing towards your boobs as he grabs them with both of his hands, kissing and sucking on them as if his life depends on it. Slowly making you lay down again, his lips mould against your nipples as he gives all of his attention to your boobs. Teeth grazing on them, making you scream out loud. Your hands found its way towards his head as you pull him towards you to kiss him.

You flip him on your back as you sit on top of him. Kissing his neck, creating several hickeys. You can feel his shaft poking your entrance, so you start humping slowly making him breathe heavily through his nose. Chest is heaving up and down as lean down to kiss the mole under his lips, his hands squeezing your ass as he slaps them; making you jolt forward and moan against his lips. You remove your right hand from his neck, inching towards his dick as you align him in front of your slit. Slowly taking him inside, you both moan loudly due to the pleasure. His hands are still on your ass, squeezing it.

You start to move, slowly. Hands on his chest as you try to move faster. But you're tired; knowing Jungkook pulls you towards him as he starts thrusting in you. He's buried deep inside of you, constantly hitting your g-spot. Thumbs caressing your cheeks as he wipes the sweat. You also start to move according to his pace, reaching your high. You tell me you're close, in a whisper. He nods "cum on my dick, let's do this together. Okay?" You can't make out a sentence so you just nod your head quickly, making him chuckle darkly at your fucked out state. After thrusting at an animalistic pace you both came. His thick cum paints your cunt.

You fall onto his chest, hugging him tightly as he chuckles lightly, removing your hair from your face and kissing your forehead, making you smile against him. "Let me clean you, you can sleep. I'm gonna make us dinner" he says, thumbs creating patterns on your back. You nod slowly, kissing his neck.

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