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twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 7 months

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i’ll relearn love at our kitchen table ; satoru gojo

synopsis; satoru doesn’t quite know what love is supposed to feel like. but if it means coming home to you, it can’t possibly be that much of a curse.

word count; 4.9k

contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, satoru gojo vs. the mortifying ordeal of being loved, fluff fluff fluff!!, a hint of angst if you reeeaallyyy squint, gojo’s pov, the babygirlification of satoru gojo, i just think being babied would fix him <33

a/n; i wanted to write something for suguru or shoko but this man is genuinely holding my brain hostage atp so more satoru fluff it is!! physically i could write gojo angst yes but emotionally? imagine the toll…

when satoru steps over the threshold to your apartment, he’s downright exhausted.

it’s a heavy kind of fatigue, a little sickening. the kind that seems to sneak its way into his bones, crawl its way under his skin. dragging him down, down, down.

a yawn slips from his lips.

the mission itself wasn’t too tough — anything is a breeze for satoru gojo, that fact needs no elaboration. this one was just a little more taxing than usual, slightly more important, which meant he had to deal with the technicalities of it all. had to listen to the elders go on and on about the importance of discretion, about finishing things swiftly and efficiently, and something else he didn’t stick around long enough to hear.

and the curse? a small fry, really. nothing worth fussing over. but it was annoying, with that irritatingly effective barrier technique. how long did he have to stay inside that goddamn veil before it let him get close enough to land a hit?

satoru doesn’t want to think about it, can’t be bothered to figure it out when all he wants is to collapse into the warm comfort of a soft mattress. all he knows is that when it finally lifted, the night sky was the only thing he could see. a vacuum of stars — taunting in its perpetuity.

so, with all that being said; to say satoru feels a little worn out might be a bit of an understatement.

hair slightly tousled, eyelids heavy with sleep-deprivation, he slumps against the wall and allows himself to simply breathe. a soft groan flows from his parted lips as he stretches idly, a small respite for his stiff and achy joints, his tired muscles.

it’s been a long day. but satoru still finds it in him to exhale a relieved breath, to drag his blindfold down to his neck and kick off his shoes.

because it’s been a long, long day — but now he’s finally home.

(not just a house, not just an apartment, but a home. a place of comfort and belonging. satoru didn’t think that was a luxury he would ever be able to afford.)

the moment he lets the door close behind him, a particular scent greets him. soothing in its familiarity, the only thing in his life that never seems to change; a blend between fresh laundry, and watered houseplants, and something that smells a bit like honey. maybe even sweeter than usual, though satoru chalks that up to his mind playing tricks on him.

it’s nice. so nice. coming back to something warm and real, a respite from his hectic work. a safe haven, of sorts, one that hasn’t been taken from him just yet.

satoru likes to think of your front door as a threshold between realms, a gap between within and without. one is dark in its saturation, plagued by that never-fading smell of iron, while the other is simply warm. sacred in its normalcy.

everything looks just as it should, the same as when he rushed out this morning; a fluffy blanket draped over the couch haphazardly, that soft golden light streaming out from the kitchen, your shoes by the front door.

satoru blinks, drowsily.

wait.

why is the kitchen light still on?

as if his eyes could ever deceive him, satoru rubs the skin under them groggily — blinking once, then twice.

yep, it’s still there — that soft fluorescent glow. a sight he’s come to associate with breakfast and dinner and a mellow kind of love, laughter shared over warm meals made by human hands. food tastes better, satoru has come to realize, when you have someone to eat it with.

ah, but it’s odd. did you forget to turn the lights off? that’s not very like you.

as if possessed by a strange, irresistible longing, his feet carry him to the kitchen in question. undeniably groggy, his uncoordinated steps are riddled with fatigue, but the yearning in his chest compels him to move forward anyway — a kind of yearning he only fully understands when he enters the space, and sees you slumped over the table, a familiar flicker of cursed energy capturing his attention.

you’re asleep.

satoru stills, where he stands by the threshold between the kitchen and the living room.

everything looks the same as always — cookie jars placed on the highest shelf to give him an excuse to help you reach them, origami made from newspapers he never bothers to read anyway, a vase standing proudly on the kitchen counter, stuffed with fresh flowers he bought for you two days ago.

the red roses still haven’t wilted, shining in the blue of the moonlight flickering in. good. they’re pretty, but maybe next time he should get you something more original. maybe some sunflowers, something that could rival the brightness of your smile. do they even sell sunflowers this time of year? if you were awake, satoru would ask you, even though you always tell him to just google it —

but you're not awake. you’re fast asleep, cheek squished against the kitchen table, snoring softly.

satoru feels his mood lift at the sight alone, and suddenly he doesn’t feel as tired anymore. something soft and almost otherworldly sprouts in his chest, as he takes you in, stepping closer. almost giddy, just to see you up close.

you look so peaceful and relaxed, so content. elbows resting on the table as soft little breaths fall from your parted lips; he spots a bit of drool on the corner of your bottom lip, gaze fond as he wipes it away with his thumb. he can’t resist the urge to poke your cheek, and it makes you stir ever so slightly — lips curling up into something akin to a sleepy smile.

satoru grins.

(you’re so cute.)

despite his fatigue, he hears himself chuckle, all soft and amused and a little bit lovesick. it comes to him so easily, when he’s with you; that upturn of his lips, the butterflies in his stomach.

satoru is still getting used to it. this cotton candy sweet, light as a feather kind of love. the kind that always feels like spring. but with every day that passes, the life he has with you becomes a little easier to digest. his future with you becomes a little easier to visualize.

yeah, he thinks. he could get used to this. coming home to you.

a soft smile, as he exhales a somewhat exasperated breath. you really shouldn’t be sleeping out here, though. silly.

satoru leans forward, inching closer to your pretty, sleeping face — he almost feels bad, waking you up like this. but he wants to hear your voice so badly.

so he cups your cheek, cold skin meeting warm, his hands still lingering with the bite of the midnight air. his fingertips tingle, buzzing with the body heat that trickles from your veins to his — one single touch is all it takes for him to soften.

the word that falls from his lips breaks the peaceful silence of the kitchen, breathing life into the moment. whispered into your ear, causing your brows to furrow as you gently slip from sleep’s embrace.

“baby…”

satoru is smiling, when your eyelids flutter open. a sincere smile, reserved for you and his students. bathed in the mellow hue of the kitchen lamp’s illumination, a soft glow curls around the strands of his white hair, creating a halo of artificial light.

blinking sleepily, you gaze at him in silence. something shines in your eyes, something satoru tentatively recognizes as adoration. and he gazes right back at you, with heavy-lidded eyes and a lopsided smile. teasing, lighthearted. thumb smoothing over the apple of your cheek.

then he grins, hopelessly endeared. ”hey there, sleeping beauty.”

a yawn tumbles from your lips, and you lift yourself up. leaning into his touch. “toru…” you mumble, voice a little raspy but still oh so sweet.

satoru doesn’t say anything. he simply takes you into his arms, gently, touch so very delicate — as if you’re made of porcelain. and you just let yourself fall into his embrace, while he tucks you under his chin, safe and secure.

it’s warm, he thinks. it feels right. complete, somehow.

and satoru thinks to himself that this must be what love feels like. what it’s supposed to feel like, anyhow, all sweet and light. all good and normal, something you never have to question. a cornerstone.

“you’re back…” you drawl, muffled into his uniform as your arms sneak around his thin waist. bringing him closer.

stroking the back of your head softly, satoru’s chest rumbles as he speaks, voice deep and a little raspy. soothing, a lullaby just for you. “yeah,” he hums. ”were you waiting?”

all you do is nuzzle further into his chest, cheek smooshed right over his heart; breathing out a sleepy little mhm that has him going weak at the knees, lips curling up helplessly.

“i wanted to…” you continue, stretching your arms a little to shrug away the remnants of sleep still clinging to your joints. “but i fell asleep.”

satoru feels you move in his arms, until your jaw settles on top of his shoulder and you press a chaste kiss to his neck. an exhale leaves his lips, something tender in the way his breath wavers.

“welcome home,” is whispered, muffled against his skin. a sentence he never wants to go a single day without hearing. “did the mission go okay?”

he plants a kiss on top of your head, speaking in a low tilt, reassuring. “it did. just took a little longer than i thought.” a soft inhale, as he basks in the scent of your shampoo. “i wanted to text you, but the veil blocked my signal. sorry, sweetie.”

another soft yawn, and a shake of your head. “s’ fine, don’t worry,” you murmur. ”i’m just glad you’re okay.”

satoru chuckles. there’s a fondness to it, light. and then something else, something more heavy — it rumbles through his chest, almost like a purr, or a soothing thunderstorm. he can only hope it’s enough to comfort you.

“of course.” he says the words like they’re indisputable, like they’re written down in scriptures old and worn. cradling you in his strong arms, he pulls you closer to his chest. hoping you’ll feel his heartbeat against you, feel that he’s there. “i always am, aren’t i?”

no answer. only a tiny hum, absentminded.

and satoru knows, deep down, that his words don’t mean much. that a part of you is always going to worry over him, no matter how many times he tells you that there’s no need. that he’ll be fine.

the thought makes him feel a bit guilty. a little sick to his stomach, at the thought of being a source of your anxiety, the reason you can’t fall asleep at night — but he’d be lying if he said it didn’t also make him feel somewhat giddy. the thought tastes sweet, on his tongue, even though it probably shouldn’t.

having someone who worries for you is a luxury, satoru has come to realize. a luxury he has, now, one he hasn’t had since —

well. that’s neither here nor there.

(“be careful, satoru,” he recalls a kind boy saying.

but that was many, many springs ago.)

“oh, right.”

at the sound of your voice, satoru pulls away ever so slightly, gazing down at you. “hm?”

with a single step back, you look up at him. tilting your head. hands still resting securely on his waist, fingertips squeezing at his hips. lightly, affectionately. barely restrained fondness. ”have you had anything to eat yet?”

“yeah. got some takeout on my way back.”

satoru expects you to sigh in relief, at his instantaneous answer. you don’t like it when he skips meals, so these days he’s been trying not to do it as much. even though he doesn’t always have the time to eat properly, and even though the sweets he chews on between missions make him lose his appetite. but he makes an honest attempt, for you.

someone worries for him. someone wants him to eat well. that’s more than enough motivation for satoru gojo.

but you don’t exhale, and you don’t look very relieved, either. you look… disappointed. eyes suddenly glancing down at the floor, lips curled down into a barely noticeable frown.

“oh,” you breathe. “okay. good.”

one second. then two. satoru tilts his head.

“why?” he stops to think. maybe… “did you make something?”

a certain recognition flickers in the depths of your eyes, and satoru thinks he must be right on the money. chewing at your bottom lip a little, you wait a moment before curling your fingers around his wrist — tugging him away from the kitchen table.

satoru follows, pliantly, until you’re standing in front of the fridge.

“well, um… here,” you mumble, somewhat sheepishly. fingers tapping at the handle before pulling it open. “take a look.”

satoru watches as the fridge door opens, slowly.

he blinks.

the first thing he sees is a single slice of strawberry shortcake. the strawberry looks fresh, glittering like a ruby on top of the softly whisked cream — and layers of sponge cake, that look like they’d melt in his mouth.

and that’s not all. there are a wide array of baked treats stuffed into the cramped space, protected by plastic wrapping and containers. everything from cupcakes with too much frosting — just the way he likes them — to chocolate chip cookies that crumble at the corners, satoru never seems to run out of things to look at. colourful treats, lovingly made and sitting right in front of him. it’s like he’s standing in a patisserie. they almost seem to sparkle, in the peripheral of his vision; glimmering softly, tantalizingly, like something out of a dream.

childish. that’s what nanami and shoko always call him, and he always protests, but —

maybe they have a point, after all. satoru certainly feels a little childish, when he realizes his eyes must be wide and bursting with child-like giddiness. a simple kind of joy, at seeing the ample selection in front of him. especially after that tedious mission prevented him from getting any sugar into his system.

”i did my best,” you mutter, sharing the sight with him as your eyes trail over a pretty bag of pink and green macarons. ”dunno if they turned out any good, but… i hope you’ll like them.”

satoru’s gaze flits over to you.

he opens his mouth, and then closes it again.

”did you… make these?” a beat. ”for me?”

a blink. ”.. yeah?” who else would they be for?, your eyes seem to say. a little confused.

for a second, satoru can only stare at you. in complete silence, the tired cogs inside his head turning sluggishly as he thinks about the implications of that answer. and with a soft flutter, he feels his heartbeat pick up, warming him up from the inside out.

you made them. with your own hands. you made all of these and you did it for him.

for some reason, satoru finds it oddly hard to speak, like someone stuffed a bunch of cupcakes down his throat. it’s weird — usually he can’t seem to stop talking, especially not when he’s with you, but…

(something about this is just too tender.)

you must have been baking all day. no wonder the apartment smelled sweeter than usual, when he walked in.

as if itching to curl around one of the macarons, his fingers twitch, but satoru gulps and keeps them still. he wants to say something, anything, wants to thank you or ask why you’d spend so much of yourself on him, but satoru only stays silent.

and maybe it’s because he’s tired. maybe he’s just a little caught off guard. usually this wouldn’t be that hard to handle — he could just throw himself on you and shower you in kisses, show his appreciation with a flurry of dramatics and declarations of love.

but right now there seems to be a disconnect, between satoru’s mind and body. maybe the mission drained him more than he realized. or maybe it’s more than that, maybe there’s nothing he can say or do; what words could he even begin to use to properly verbalize the emotions he’s feeling right now? how could his touch ever begin to measure up to the sweet sensation unfurling in his chest?

the silence doesn’t last long. as satoru stands there and spirals, you speak up, most likely chalking it up to him being too sleepy to react.

”this mission was especially rough, right?” you begin, with a soft tilt of your head. a smile curls its way onto your lips, proud and sweet. sweeter than everything in the fridge combined.

one step, then two. you inch closer to him, until there’s almost no space between you — standing on your tiptoes, one hand on his shoulder and the other reaching for his head. smoothing down his tousled hair, fingers tangling themselves between the soft white strands and getting lost in them. and it’s gentle, the way you begin to pat his head, doting.

then you speak. ”you did well.”

and it’s such a simple thing to say. three words, three syllables, but the words just tumble out from your mouth so earnestly that satoru can’t help but still. his breath hitches in his throat, softly, barely noticeable, but it’s there. that surprise.

he never knows how to act, when you get like this. patting his head and ruffling his hair like he’s something warm and sweet and worthy of love. something delicate, and not the strongest man on the planet.

it’s so weird. you’re so weird.

(satoru leans into your touch without thinking, allowing his eyes to flutter shut.)

it’s perplexing, this feeling, and the fact that he can’t pinpoint why frustrates him to no end. isn’t this wrong? shouldn’t he be the one ruffling your hair, coddling you?

what formula is he supposed to follow here, exactly? should he tease you? pull away from your touch?

satoru wishes his six eyes could tell him the answer, but they don’t. they’ve never been very good with emotions, with things that aren’t directly tied to his suffering or imminent death.

(so ironic. all these eyes and nothing to see. they failed to see suguru’s silence, back then, and now they fail to see what reaction would please you the most.

really, such a worthless ability to love people with.)

no answer comes to him. so satoru doesn’t tease you, and he doesn’t pull away.

it does feel slightly wrong, though. like this feeling isn’t something he’s supposed to have, there must be some mistake, he can’t possibly be allowed to feel so loved — can he? having you bake him all his favorite treats, run your fingers through his hair. praise him for working hard.

really. isn’t he being too coddled?

(… but it feels so nice.)

satoru suspects that there’s a lot to love he might not fully understand, just yet.

maybe tomorrow, when he’s a little less tired, he can try once again to give you the impression that he’s perfect. that he doesn’t need affection, that he doesn’t crave your support or your touch. that he’s above all that, the strongest, someone for you to depend on.

depend on him, while he depends on no one. that’s the kind of existence satoru gojo is. that’s how it should be, that’s all he knows, but…

— ah. it feels really nice when your nails scratch his scalp like that.

and suddenly, that’s all satoru can think. no more pesky what-ifs, or second guessing every good thing he gets. right now, it’s just you and him. your fingers in his hair, his footprints in your life.

satoru allows himself to melt under your touch, almost meekly. leaning down just a little further, to make it easier for you to smooth your hand over his head. he nuzzles into your palm with a happy little exhale, and for some reason he feels sort of bashful.

try as he might, he doesn’t manage to successfully shoo the emotion away, so all he can do is hope you don’t take note of it.

and you just continue your onslaught of affection, now ruffling his hair with both your hands, like he’s a big puppy getting cooed over. satoru has a nagging suspicion that you might be getting a little carried away, but he doesn’t stop you. greedy, in the way he wishes your hands would never leave his hair. the way he hopes you’ll never be too far away from him to reach.

”such a hard worker,” you coo, and he feels himself grow flustered. ”my baby deserves so much love.”

”woah there,” satoru chokes out, grinning, desperately hoping you won’t notice the red tint to his ears. ”are you flirting with me? i have a partner, you know.”

a giggle slips from your lips, sleepy and amused. ”oh, do you?” one of your hands goes to cup his cheek, thumb caressing the edge of his jaw as you gaze at him fondly. ”lucky them.”

the grin you’re wearing is awfully bright. soft around the edges in a way that has him speechless, brain malfunctioning ever so slightly. satoru makes a mental note to scrap the sunflower idea — there has to be some brighter flower out there, one that can actually compete with your smile. sunflowers just won’t cut it.

but then you let go, and satoru gets broken out of his lovesick stupor.

when your hands leave his skin, his lips curl down into a soft pout. one he rushes to smooth away, before you can notice it.

you step back, failing to stifle a soft bout of laughter, but satoru knows it’s not because you saw it — he knows because your gaze is glued to his hair, and he internally winces when he thinks about how messy it must look, after your little bout of cuteness aggression.

(you really are weird, finding him cute of all things.)

he expects you to tease him a little more, but you don’t, turning away and tapping your fingers on the kitchen counter. ”if i’d known you’d be home this late,” you speak, stealing one last glance at the pastries before closing the fridge. ”then i would’ve waited until tomorrow. so you could eat them fresh.”

an apology rests on satoru’s tongue, but as if sensing it, you rush to reassure him.

”ah, but this is fine too! they should still taste good!” you turn away, muttering. ”… hopefully.”

then you nod to yourself, crossing your arms absentmindedly.

satoru looks at you for a second.

then he steps forward, unable to resist the temptation — tapping at your wrist with the pads of his fingers, before gently curling them around it, coaxing you into turning your head towards him.

the kiss he presses to your lips is soft, delicate. his fingers trace along your jaw, cupping your cheek and tilting your face up slightly, just letting his warm lips rest against yours. sweet and chaste. he sighs into the kiss, content, and feels your pulse pick up.

then he moves down to your jaw, slow and methodical — lazy kisses, sleepy but so full of affection. and little pecks, scattered all over your lips, your cheek, the tip of your nose.

you seem to melt a little, against him, and satoru relishes in it; his ability to make you relax. far more valuable than the six eyes, he would argue.

when he pulls away from you, with what takes tremendous self-restraint, he’s smiling. his gaze meets yours, layered over with pure adoration, blue eyes crinkling as he looks at you. as if you’re his entire world. the kitchen light embraces him, cascading down the contours of his face; the bridge of his nose, the curve of his jaw, his barely noticeable dimples.

and there it is, again — that flicker of love in your eyes, that adoration. as if you’re looking at a painting, something too beautiful for words.

(satoru hopes you can see that very same adoration, reflected in his eyes as he looks at you.)

after a moment, he leans forward, to rest his jaw on the curve of your shoulder. you stumble a little under the weight, caged in as his arms hug your midriff.

”god,” he sighs, breathless, heavy with giddy disbelief. almost whining when he continues, nuzzling into your neck as if to hide. ”why are you so perfect, huh? i don’t get it.”

at that, you huff out a laugh, an amused little breath. wrapping your arms around his neck and scratching softly at his nape. satoru shudders just a little, arms tightening around you.

”stealing my line…” you mutter, accusatory, smile laced over with a honeyed affection.

another amused breath, this time from him. this is one battle he won’t let you win. ”nah,” he grins, tugging you closer. ”’s mine.”

this is warm, he thinks. this feels right. complete, in a way that satoru never understood before you.

he could probably stand there forever, just basking in it. soaking up your body heat and the smell of your shampoo. until your warmth is all he knows, until he can never get your scent off his skin.

and satoru thinks that he could get used to this. a cotton candy sweet, light as a feather kind of love, one that smells like spring and tastes like strawberry shortcakes and feels like tight hugs shared in kitchens.

your love makes him feel so human. and it’s scary, terrifying even, but it's also too good to pass up. it’s worth the risk. so worth everything.

a yawn leaves your lips, suddenly. satoru feels you soften in his embrace, nuzzling closer to him, stumbling just a tad; he doesn’t think it’s fair, for such a simple gesture to make him as happy as it does.

”sleepy?” he coos, smile giddy and fond. ”let’s go to bed, okay? no more sleeping on the kitchen table, silly.”

a disgruntled little huff resounds throughout the air, as you let your arms fall to your sides. ”that’s on you,” you declare, poking the plush of his chest with your finger. ”i only fell asleep because you took so long.”

a teasing glint flickers in satoru’s eyes.

”wanted to see me that badly, huh?” he coos. you roll your eyes, and he pulls your cheek. ”that’s cute.”

”so what if i did?”

satoru stills. you’re smiling, a little mischievous, but mostly sincere. and it really is very unfair of you, he thinks — to do this to him while his guard is down.

but he manages to pull himself together, raising an amused eyebrow and booping your nose in a way that catches you off guard. blinking up at him, eyelashes fluttering.

satoru clears his throat. ”well, that’s sweet.”

then he turns on his heel, suddenly, and strolls over to the fridge. ”but you know what’s even sweeter?” he chirps, fingers curling around the handle as he swiftly pulls it open.

licking his lips, absentmindedly, his eyes trail over all the different pastries. so close yet so far, just out of reach; his fingers move forward, towards that mesmerizing slice of strawberry shortcake —

”— no.”

a hand settles on satoru’s waist, and tugs him away from his well-deserved prize. taking advantage of his momentary surprise, you close the fridge decisively, and give him an unimpressed raise of your eyebrow.

satoru whines, loud and grating. pouting sweetly, trying to make you feel bad. ”c’mon, just one bite —”

”no.”

”but they’re for me!”

”they’re for you to eat tomorrow. i was only gonna let you eat them tonight if you were on the brink of starvation, or something.”

”i am!”

”so the takeout was a lie?” you narrow your eyes at him, suddenly suspicious. ”have you been skipping meals, again?”

satoru pauses. weighing his options. ”well, no, but…”

”— then no.”

another soft whine. you turn away from him, when he tilts his head and gives you his best set of puppy dog eyes. in fear of giving in to them, satoru knows, as you have so many times before. ”please?” he tries, to no avail.

”you’re not eating sweets before bed, satoru,” you deadpan, and his smile falls further, exaggerated. ”and no, we are not having that conversation again.”

he can tell you’re trying to sound stern, but a giggle tumbles from your lips nonetheless, at the ridiculousness of the situation. keeping a grown man away from your fridge, knowing that he’ll wolf down every pastry he sees and get himself sick if you don’t. all while the man in question whines at you in protest, frowing so deeply, disappointment evident on his features.

(except satoru really isn’t very disappointed at all. like this, he gets to stare at your smile all he wants, after all; knowing you won’t notice it, too busy trying to keep yourself from giving in to his pleas.)

he tries again, one last time. just because he knows it’ll make you laugh. you do, a little exasperated, and satoru couldn’t be happier.

and he thinks to himself that if this is what love is, if this is what it’s supposed to feel like, then it can’t possibly be that much of a curse.

maybe he should revise the hypothesis, get a second opinion. he’ll have to ask you tomorrow, over pastries and coffee, and hear what you have to say.

as you both stumble to the bedroom, sleepy and a little delirious, satoru thinks that maybe this is enough; the lighthearted banter, the fond laughter. everything good and real and normal, within the space of your apartment, a home he never thought he’d have.

(and maybe, a second opinion isn’t necessary, after all. maybe it doesn’t really matter if love is a curse or not, as long as he gets to share it with you, like this.)

that night, satoru dreams. curled up with you beneath the blankets, limbs tangled together, as if he could never be close enough.

he dreams of kitchen lights, of sweet treats and warm hands. of spring breezes, and a love he’s finally beginning to accept for what it is:

good. wholly and thoroughly.

#lovesick satoru is my favorite satoru but yknow whats even better? lovesick satoru/lovesick reader #i just have such a firm belief that this man is a loser when hes genuinely in love ok.#hes so touch starved i think he’d crumble into a little puddle on the floor if u kissed his cheek #loves to tease and fluster you n hes so good at it but the moment u give him the same treatment? he is Gone. down for the count #spreading the loser satoru agenda <33 i love this man so dearly.#i NEED to hold his waist btw idk if i made that clear. i need it like i need air to breathe. like why is it so tiny if not to be held by me #had to hold myself back like a wolf during a full moon from describing his waist in too much detail youre welcome #overall idk what to say i just think love could fix him #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #jjk x reader

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jungkook97 · 6 months

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it's a bad idea, right? || jjk & myg

pairing: jungkook x female!reader, yoongi x female!reader word count: ~8.8k rating: ma genre: romcom, smut (not too detailed though!), fake dating to lovers, non-idol!au, roommates au, jungkook is a lovesick little bitch, y/n is toxica and aloof, yoongi is y/n’s “perfect” ex who she wants back

summary: yoongi and y/n broke up and she wants him back. desperately. so much so that she got a fake boyfriend (aka her annoying BUT attractive roommate) to get him jealous.

what a terrible idea.

notes: UM i didn't intend for it to end that way but i'm horny for the both of them saur. yeah! sharing is caring lol

BANG. BANG. BANG.

You emerged from the sheets, silent.

BANG.

“I know you’re in there,” a voice echoed through the door. You grimaced, sitting up. It was your roommate again and frankly, you had enough of the guy.

It has been a few days since you and Yoongi had called it quits and you had warned very loudly to your roommate, Jungkook, that you’d be on an emotional rollercoaster for the next few days. It was a clear warning from the jump that you would be loud in your cries, perhaps unkempt and smelly from the depression, and so on and so forth. You said you weren’t going to see him so much as you’d be in bed, eyes puffy and red.

“Am I being too loud?” you asked the obvious, but Jungkook just sighed, body shifting against the door.

“Just open the damn door. I need to talk to you.”

Grumbling, you pulled the blanket off your body and slinked over, slowly cracking the door open.

“Jesus, you look terrible!” Jungkook exclaimed, eyebrows furrowing together. He broke into a little chuckle to himself before you told him to kindly fuck off with a soft smile. Even though Jungkook can be the biggest asshole, he still didn’t entirely pissed you off.

Probably because the kid is very attractive, you thought to yourself, sighing. Oh, pretty people. Getting away with everything per usual.

“What do you want?” you got straight to the point. It was at least midnight at this point, and you couldn’t help but to realize that you hadn’t eaten. Of course, you didn’t plan to have dinner, especially with Jungkook being around and making fun of your cooking (What a jerk, you thought, he could flawlessly make anything). Nonetheless, your stomach betrayed you anyway, gurgling as Jungkook pointed at you as if you’ve been caught with some marijuana or something.

“Ah, I was about to ask if you’re hungry because I made some extra food and there it goes~” he hummed, laughing as he slid the door even more open. “Come on, it’s tasty. You know it’s always tasty…unlike my lo–”

“Okay,” you interrupted, sickened by the sexual innuendo. Men were truly disgusting, especially Korean men and their porn-obsessed brains. It didn’t help that you found the most Korean guy possible as your roommate, but at least the rent isn’t too bad with him and he doesn’t try to make any unwanted moves. To you, he was a diamond in the rough. “Let me freshen up and I’ll be there.”

He smirked, standing upright.

“I’ll see you!”

And so the two of you had a very late dinner. He wasn’t wrong with making suyuk (“I just winged it~” he bragged, which made you roll your eyes) to your level and taste, and you gobbled it right away. He was right: you were pretty hungry.

“So, how’s it been?” Jungkook began some small talk as he poured another glass of highball for himself. The man goes through bottles of Jack Daniels like it’s water, but at least he isn’t a lightweight. Koreans and their alcohol, you thought.

“Miserable,” you mumbled, chewing the rice slowly before grabbing another slice. “It’s barely day 3 and I miss him so bad.”

“I told you, he’s probably fucking other bitches,” he snorted while plopping some more pork on his plate. “It’s Min Yoongi after all.”

Your heart sank at the mere possibility of it, swirling your chopsticks in your bowl. Jungkook was right. It would’ve been different if Yoongi was still that shy underground producer when you two first met, but he was a hot shot now, collaborating with all kinds of U.S. producers and even collaborating with Major Lazer on a track recently. There were rumors even Beyoncé had plans to cook up a beat with him, but it has been hard to keep track of him. Yoongi was getting too popular for your taste, and that was what led to the breakup in the first place. Distance, misunderstandings, and then a big argument. The typical stuff.

You sighed, putting your free hand to your chin, thinking pensively. There has to be a way to get him back. There was no way you were going to let Yoongi slip from your hands. He was the perfect guy: sweet, empathetic, thoughtful, literally so good in bed (your body just quivered at the fact that his tongue healed your past horrible hookups and situationships)...the list went on, and you were so sure it was gonna be endgame. Two years of good memories, all for a stupid argument?

You should’ve fought harder, but Yoongi’s words cut so deep. He was a producer after all. The man’s pen got Grammy nominations. Beyoncé was calling him up. How could you compete with that? That was a losing battle to begin with.

Unless…

“Jungkook?”

“Hm?” his eyes looked up from his phone screen rather nonchalantly.

You leaned in, folding your leg underneath your bottom before scooching closer to him.

“Do you want to form an alliance?” you said in the best The Office’s Dwight impression possible.

“What?” he asked blankly.

“Do you want to be my fake boyfriend to get Yoongi back?”

You couldn’t believe the words that came out of your mouth. It was a stupid idea, idiotic. There was no way it was going to work: you always talked shit about Jungkook to Yoongi. How the hell was he going to be convinced that you fell in love with Jeon Jungkook?

You quietly gagged at the possibility, but you also knew deeply that no other man would do it with no strings attached besides him. You couldn’t explain why though: maybe it was because of how aloof the guy was, or maybe he seemed pretty good on paper. Despite being annoying, Jungkook was attractive, had a nice job, and was also not a bad human being. He might not be the perfect guy, but he’s…

…okay.

Just.

Okay.

Jungkook put his finger up to his chin, rubbing it quietly to himself. You stared back at him, waiting for an answer.

“So?”

“What’s in it for me?”

You shrugged.

“Uh, out of the kindness of your heart?”

Jungkook snorted.

“That isn’t good enough.”

“What do you want then?” you crossed your arms, frowning. “Sex?”

“Ew!” Jungkook immediately gagged, grimacing at the thought of you two doing it. “God no.”

“Money?”

He shook his head again.

“Nah.”

You were growing frustrated, growling under your breath.

“Then what?”

“Sana’s number.”

Your eyes widened.

“FUCK NO,” you yelled back, hissing at Jungkook’s eyebrows raising up twice and him smirking.

“What, you want the man back or not?” he mocked.

“She’s….precious to me,” you whispered. You two were peas in a pod and were really close, protective over each other even. You knew Jungkook was going to go there though, especially with the way he openly stared at her when she was at your guys’ place a couple of weeks ago.

(He also kept asking if she was going to come back. Jungkook was not a slick guy in the slightest.)

“You. Want. Him. Back. Or. Not?” he repeated again, crossing his arms. “It’s simple. I’ll do whatever it takes for you to get Yoongi back, and I'll get Sana's number at the end. You know I won’t be creepy towards her.”

He was right. If he was the type to send dick pics, he would’ve sent you one already.

You exhaled deeply, extending your hand out for a formal handshake.

“Deal.”

And so, you two began to plot. Since Jungkook was in the music industry himself, it was pretty easy to “run” into Yoongi. That was always the easy part though. The harder part was to actually look like a couple with your fucking incredibly sophomoric roommate.

Jungkook was younger than you by a couple of years, and was a bit of a fuckboy. No, more like a major fuckboy. In the beginning of your tenancy at the apartment with the man, he would always invite girls to his room and they would fuck (loudly), pissing you off. He wouldn’t even give much warning, but it wasn’t until a month or two ago when he completely stopped his antics, and well, got nicer to you overall. You didn’t get why though, but you were not going to question it either.

And so, you held your breath as you two made your way to the café Yoongi always went to in the morning before heading to the studio. You were panicking, hands all clammy as Jungkook’s eyes were on you before rolling his eyes.

“Come on, you can’t act like this,” he piped up as you two waited for the street to turn green for pedestrians. “The more you get nervous about it, the more it’s going to look fake as hell.”

“You think I don’t know that?” you exhaled sharply, wiping your hands on your skirt before extending it out to touch his. “Grab my hand.”

He did it immediately, and it took you slightly aback. First of all, he didn’t protest or whine when he did, and secondly, his hands were unbelievably soft? You couldn’t believe Jungkook actually used actual lotion, and his grip was just right. Not too rough, but firm and inviting.

“Get closer to me,” he instructed, his linked hand pulling closer toward his body as you went along as he rested his head a bit above your head. On the count of three, the two of you walked in unison across the street as onlookers were clearly staring at the both of you winging it to the coffee shop. You could feel your hands producing more and more sweat making it slippery, but Jungkook never once let go. In fact, he held even tighter to your surprise.

“Where is he?” he muttered under his breath as he cracked his neck to look around the shop. You did the same before noticing a lightly curled dark-haired man you knew too well. Yoongi was sitting down drinking his little double shot espresso, eyes already set on the both of you. Your stomach lurched forward at his pensive eyes, scanning the situation as you nudged Jungkook to look over.

You two were inconspicuously in line for a coffee. It was the easiest way to sneak in without causing a scene, you two decided the night before. As the line moved forward, you were still staring into Yoongi’s eyes. Despite being with him for two years, you could never really read him very well. It was a part of his charm: he was so mysterious, yet so intimate.

“Ah,” you saw his lips make a vowel as he sat up in his seat, suddenly interested in what was going on. Jungkook looked over nonchalantly before looking back at you, eyes locked at the menu. You, on the other hand, weren't looking too hot.

You kept staring at Yoongi and you couldn’t tell if he was jealous or even remotely upset. He just looked void of emotion like he always did, just how you remembered him. Surely, he wasn’t happy, and maybe you could take that as a victory.

But oh, his face. You missed it so much. You love this man so hard and if only you could just go over there and kiss him on the spot, you would. His lips were firmly pressed together before he finally looked down in his coffee cup, making you exhale sharply, butterflies in your stomach.

Is he…upset?

“You gonna order?”

Jungkook’s voice rang through your ears as you realized you two were at the front of the line. Hastily, you ordered as Jungkook heaved heavily, putting his hand up as you pulled out your card to pay.

“I got this, sweetheart,” he replied almost naturally before tapping his card against the card reader. You were stunned at the sudden drop of the pet name, but he was playing his role relatively well.

“I guess you’re working really hard for Sana’s number after all,” you whispered under your breath as Jungkook rolled his eyes again, grabbing the ticket number.

“Yeah, and I would’ve loved it if you were better at acting because it seems like I’m doing the heavy lifting here,” he grumbled back, pulling you with him to the other side of the counter. You could feel Yoongi’s eyes following you two as your back turned against him, looking at Jungkook directly, cheeks slightly flushed.

“I’m sorry, I’m just…” you paused, trying to find the right words. The atmosphere seemed really warm all of a sudden as you were slightly dizzy. “...flustered.”

“Yeah, no shit,” he replied back, chuckling. You could feel the envy in the room as he did that. You forgot: Jungkook was a pretty hot guy, and well sought after in the showbiz scene.

You two had some small talk then, but as quiet it could possibly be due to the NDAs you two signed in regards to your jobs. It was a normal conversation you two would regularly have, but you were very self conscious about looking more “couple-y” in front of your ex. As the two of you sat down to wait for your order, Jungkook put his arm behind you against the table (you assume) to assert dominance, and you put your hand on his lap. Weirdly, you felt him stiffen a bit, but you didn’t think much. It was probably a sensitive area for Jungkook: after all, he was pretty used to a lot of girls touching him in a sexual way.

“Order for J-K!” the barista called out. It felt like the entire shop, including Yoongi, was staring at the both of you as you two stood up to take your drinks. As you took a sip with confidence, the both of you left the shop with Jungkook opening the door for you, continuing on whatever nonsensical conversation you guys were having. Jungkook followed you closely as you slowly made a grin, nudging the guy.

“I think that was pretty good,” you giddily squealed. He rolled his eyes once more, creating a bit of distance between you two.

“It was passable.”

Ding.

You pulled out your phone, seeing what you’ve been waiting for.

[MIN YOONGI: Was that Jeon Jungkook you were with just now?]

It was working, she believed. All Jungkook did was just roll his eyes.

It was a stupid idea, almost idiotic. It was like high school all over again, except they were past their quarter life crisis and Jungkook was terribly bored. His little whore phase was over, and he was in need of some “no strings attached” fun.

You were always fascinating to him when you moved in. Most girls would avoid renting with a Korean man in the first place after hearing horror stories about people like him in Korea, but she took a chance anyway. He wasn’t sure if you were stupid or if you were just incredibly brave, but the comedy fodder you’ve gotten in the past year was worth it. All of the hilarious stories from her side of the industry made Jungkook’s life a bit lighter and less depressing. After all, turning down people’s dreams was not what Jungkook wanted to do with his life.

Knowing that he could fuck around with some popular producer’s feelings made him feel good and honestly, you weren’t a bad match for him.

He wouldn’t admit it, but he had a little crush on you, on God. You were pretty, smart and didn’t seem to care about the glitz and glamour of Hollywood, and that was way different from the many girls he has been seen with. Admittedly there was a long list of women who would love to have a bite of him, but he was getting tired. LA women can be too dramatic at times, and you were the opposite of that.

Every night, you two had dinner to go over what happened that day, and little did he know that he would eventually grow super fond of you, suddenly talking about you and the antics you two were pulling to his friends. Mingyu was the first to pop the question if you two were actually dating, but Jungkook kept denying, saying it was an elaborate scheme.

“Why are you doing it? Clearly it’s not out of the kindness of your heart,” Mingyu would tease him while Jungkook had a few shots in him. “Admit it, you actually like her and fake dating is easier to deal with than actually asking her out.”

Jungkook denied, denied and denied some more, emphasizing he wouldn’t catch feelings. Yes, Jungkook put his heart on his sleeve constantly, but fake dating is fake dating. There was no way he would pass those boundaries, but as the dinners continued, the more he felt that there was something there…a spark, even.

One night, you were on the couch just texting as Jungkook was working out nearby, heaving and puffing. He was keeping his eyes on you subconsciously, seeing you smile and grinning at small things as his mind went wild as to what it was. Maybe it was Yoongi you were texting, or a whole new guy together. It drove him insane, and he couldn’t help but to feel rather territorial. Sure, he knew a lot about you at this point, but he also didn’t know everything about you.

“Who are you texting?” he impulsively asked, setting the dumbbells down as he pulled his arms up in the air, stretching. His lips escaped a groan as he cracked his neck, kneeling down to meet at her eye level.

You looked up, eyes locked in with his. His heart leaped forward as she grinned, putting her knees together to her chest.

“It’s Yoongi.”

Jungkook’s heart sank.

Sank…?

Oh fuck, Jungkook thought. No. Oh no.

“What are you guys texting about?” he felt himself ask, again with not much thought. Were they sexting each other? Were you already back with Yoongi already and you were just messing with Jungkook’s feelings? His mind was running wild suddenly, and he felt a bit…strange. Upset, maybe.

“None of your business!” you retorted back, putting your phone closer to your chest, laughing.

Jungkook’s tongue protruded from his cheek as he played with his lip rings and folded his arms.

“What do you mean, ‘it’s none of my business’? Don’t you think your fake boyfriend should know what’s going on?”

He was getting heated, his nostrils flaring. He should know what was going on, especially if maybe they’re really together all of this time and he was being played. Jungkook hated being played, and he felt like he was being royally screwed over at this point.

“Okay, you can tone down the fake jealousy,” you laughed, turning the phone around. He walked over immediately, kneeling down to see the text conversation. It wasn’t even with Yoongi, but rather with Sana.

Fuck.

“Oh, fuck off, you’re so annoying,” Jungkook rolled his eyes, going back to his dumbbells. You giggled, opening the camera app to take a photo of him working out.

“Say hi to Sana! Flex a bit so she gets intrigued, come on~!”

Jungkook sighed loudly, ignoring you. It was then he realized something was deeply wrong with this situation, something that Mingyu was making fun of him about.

And so since then, he started catching feelings, especially when the two of you had dinner one night at a nearby restaurant after hearing Yoongi was going to have dinner there as well with supposedly a business partner. You were really nervous about the whole ordeal once again.

It seemed that every time you two did anything in the presence of Min Yoongi, you were nervous about it, much to Jungkook’s annoyance. But he gritted his teeth anyway, fixing your dress as you fidgeted in it despite looking ravishing in it. In fact, he was trying not to look at you as much to avoid getting flustered, but he couldn’t help it. You looked beautiful in a forest green mid-length dress, makeup as light and perfect as Jungkook liked on you. You looked effortless, and that was something he really liked about you.

“Do you think he would say something in person after this?” you asked seriously, putting on your diamond earrings.

Jungkook was leaning against the bathroom counter on his phone, trying to hide the fact that he was getting annoyed again, his body temperature rising as all she was asking about what Yoongi would think and how they would appear in front of him. At this point, he was getting tired, and frankly, he wanted to just get the man to whisk you away or whatever so he can move on. Jungkook knew you didn’t feel the same in any capacity, and perhaps that was best. It was messy to get into it with your roommate out of all people, and Sana would be a great distraction for him.

You two looked really good together though, Jungkook admitted to himself. As he looked up at the bathroom mirror, he could see how well you two matched together, how well your hands fitted in his, and how easy flowing your guys’ conversations were with each other. It was as if you two had known each other for a while, like friends from the past life or something.

If only you two could be more than friends.

Or is that….too much to ask?

“Hey silly, let’s go! Reservation’s in an hour!” you snapped him out of reality. He shook himself awake and cleared his throat, his eyes locking with yours as he gulped nervously after. You looked…gorgeous.

“Y-yeah,” he replied, taking his jacket with him as you turned the bathroom light off. Grabbing his hand, you two made your way out of the apartment and into the elevator where Jungkook stood behind you, taking you in. There was a slight hair out of place and he instinctively put it back into place, which made you flinch a bit.

“Anything in my hair?” you asked, patting the area down.

He met eyes with you again, this time invoking a feeling of warmness and softness that he didn’t know he was extruding. Surely, you weren’t noticing it entirely, staring back at him for an answer. He was clearly unraveling in front of you, but you were too worried about what Yoongi was going to wear or what he was going to say to you (if he was going to say anything to you, that is). He fell in love in that elevator, and he was down bad.

“Uh, no,” he made sure to reply back to not alarm you, putting his hands into his pockets and staring at the ground. He was clearing his throat again, feeling as if he had caught something. There wasn’t anything infectious though, just a big ball of nerves and anxiety caused by being lovesick.

He was being a big fat loser for love, just like Mingyu had predicted.

Mingyu was right. Jeon Jungkook was in love with you.

You two got to the restaurant in record time, and there Yoongi was, having dinner with another woman. You held your breath as you gripped Jungkook’s hand a bit tighter, making his stomach churn in nervousness.

“He’s with someone,” you stated the obvious, biting down your bottom lip as you were trying not to cry. You had gotten the info about the business partner through Jungkook, but something told you that he was just trying to spare your feelings. Min Yoongi was on a date with someone and you didn’t like that at all.

And so, you turned around and leaned into Jungkook’s ear, requesting him to put his arm around your waist. He did it almost immediately as the server took you to the table, “coincidentally” in front of Yoongi and his supposed date.

As expected, Yoongi saw the two of you immediately, frozen stiff as you made eye contact with him before looking at Jungkook with the lovey-dovey smile you conjured up on the spot. Now was the time to make him feel absolutely uncomfortable, regretting breaking up with you.

You leaned in to Jungkook, who at this point was in his damn feelings, and planted a kiss on his cheek. He turned a light pink, playing with his lip rings as you laughed unnaturally, planting your bottom back in your chair.

“What, you’re flustered suddenly?” you giggled, pushing your hair to the side to show your sharp collar bones and chest. You could see Yoongi shift uncomfortably in his seat, biting his lips as his date continued talking about God knows what.

You smirked. You were getting his attention.

“Of course,” Jungkook answered back with a lot of sincerity, trying to mask it as him being a great actor. Of course, he was disheartened that you kept staring behind him, but he kind of didn’t care. Yoongi was getting pissed off, and that was what kept him going honestly. Maybe he couldn’t have you, but at least her ex was not having it. It was kind of twisted, but Jungkook weirdly liked it. “You know how I feel about PDA, my love.”

“I thought you’re the type to like showing that I’m yours,” you flirtily replied, making Jungkook’s heart literally skip a beat. You were pulling out all the stops in such a pathetic and unapologetic way, and it was making him feel really good.

“Yeah, you are mine,” he smirked, grabbing your hand to squeeze. “You’re always going to be mine, no one else’s.”

Yoongi’s tongue poked out of his cheek, stifling a chuckle. The tension in the room was high, and you enjoyed every bit of it.

You two didn’t last through the appetizers before Yoongi excused himself to the bathroom. You did the same, hoping to run into him.

You did, almost too perfectly. As the two of you stood next to each other in the shared sink area, Yoongi stood next to you. His Invictus cologne enveloped your nostrils as you smiled, remembering how much that used to drive you wild.

“So you’re with Jungkook for real, huh?” Yoongi turned his body towards you, chuckling. “I didn’t know you’d lower your standards like that,” he continued, flipping his hair to the side.

“Please,” you scoffed. “Like that girl you got is any better than me.”

“She’s looking for a producer,” he emphasized, smirking. “I knew you would think it’s a date. Do you think I have time to see anybody right now?”

You turned off the faucet and shook your hands dry.

“Yeah, I know,” you replied nonchalantly. “That was why we broke up, remember?”

Yoongi swallowed sharply at the comment, making you feel rather elated. He was clearly hurt.

Now you want him to want you back.

There was a moment of silence between you two as you took a paper towel to dry your hands and you did it painstakingly slowly as he looked directly into your eyes, probably trying to decipher what you were thinking. You stonewalled him, just like he did with you in the last few weeks of your relationship, unwilling to say anything to fix the rift you two had. Yoongi wasn’t that perfect like you thought of weeks ago: there was a reason why he broke up with you. He was an asshole, unwilling to spend more time with you, confiding in you. Even Jungkook, your fake boyfriend, was a better listener than Yoongi was sometimes.

“I know what you’re doing,” Yoongi said simply, leaning against the wall. “You’re trying to make me jealous.”

Your stomach lurched forward as you swallowed shallowly, clearing your throat to hide it. Yoongi’s lips curved into a smirk as he slowly leaned into you.

“You’re trying to make me fucking jealous,” he repeated, this time in a lower tone, almost growling. You felt as if he knocked the wind out of you, his breath so close to you. This was the Yoongi you remembered, the guy who wouldn’t mince words, but rather, said it upfront. It was incredibly sexy of him, and it was the most attractive quality. It was the reason you two got together, and the chemistry was impalpable.

Kiss him. Or at least say something.

“And what if I was…?” you taunted back, your hands getting closer to his against the sink. You two were incredibly close at this point, lips almost touching. “Are you fucking jealous, Min Yoongi?”

His lips leaned in even closer, barely touching your own.

“Maybe.”

Your heart skipped a beat. You had him in your fingers, and it was a power play that you knew Yoongi loved, and almost missed about you. You were a thrill for him, and despite how turbulent the relationship was, you two always had that energy with each other.

He held his breath as you pulled away sharply, teasing him. His eyes turned dark as you smirked.

“Well, that’s too bad,” you replied. “Wish I could do something.”

And with that, you clicked your heels in the opposite direction, strutting away in your best model walk possible, making sure Yoongi was able to see every inch of you swaying your round hips with your dress. You just knew that he was checking you out as you smirked, walking back towards your table.

Jungkook’s eyes looked up when you returned, his demeanor a bit more serious than ever before, mainly because he could see Yoongi trailing behind you, smirking. His cat-like dark eyes looked back at Jungkook’s big and impressionable ones with a dark envy, a kind of territorial way that made Jungkook’s stomach bubbled in jealousy.

He wasn’t sure what happened to the two of you in the bathroom, but he knew something happened and he did not like it.

Later on in the night as you gushed about the bathroom incident, Jungkook’s mind was going haywire, trying to grapple with his own feelings about the current state of affairs. There has to be a way to get out of this situation. He needed Sana’s number to drown out what he was feeling, and he needed it now.

As he continued to give one-word answers and hums, you raised an eyebrow as he slammed the front door behind you, plopping onto the couch.

“Is everything okay?” you asked, setting your purse on the coffee table in front of him.

Jungkook, deep in his phone, responded in the driest manner,

“Well, it looks like we got the man jealous so…” he put his hand out toward you. “Give me Sana’s number.”

You blinked.

“What? We’re not done yet!” you argued, putting your hands on your hips, shocked. “The rule was I give you her number when Yoongi wants me back!”

“Well, technically he does because he’s jealous,” Jungkook emphasized, scrolling through Instagram, putting more focus on the jealous part of the sentence. “He’s probably gonna ask that tomorrow or whatever, so give me Sana’s number.”

You squinted your eyes, leaning closer toward him to match his eye level. Jungkook could sense it as his heart beated faster as he peered up, shrugging.

“What?”

“You’re thinking about her, aren’t you?” you questioned, slowly breaking into a smile. “That’s why you’re ignoring me.”

Jungkook sighed. You were incredibly terrible at catching cues, but for once, it was a blessing in disguise. It wasn’t like you were going to return his feelings anyways so it was best that there was this kind of miscommunication.

“Yes,” he lied straight to her face. Keep being the good actor you are and she’ll never know. “Now hand it over.”

“Alright, alright,” you replied, pulling out your phone. “You do deserve it. You looked like you were pretty jealous back there and I’m pretty sure Yoongi felt a certain type of way about that.”

Jungkook’s stomach churned uneasily as he let out a small laugh, licking his lips and playing with his lip rings.

That wasn’t acting, his brain yelled to you. I was pretty fucking jealous, but I can’t really admit it, can I?

It felt like a whole joke, but at least it means it was over. Jungkook didn’t have to play the fake boyfriend game anymore because it would risk him falling in love with you even more. A good time with Sana would make him forget as he was the type to move on easily. Or rather, that was what he hoped anyway. It was hard to tell, as you two got pretty damn close.

It doesn’t hurt to try.

Weeks passed and the conversation has been extremely dry for Jungkook. Turns out Sana already was seeing somebody, and you were being very obtuse about contacting Yoongi again. While he wasn’t sure that you two went on dates together, it seemed that the jig was revealed and you two were in the talking phase with a noncommittal promise that Yoongi would take you to this fancy gala hosted by the company. Jungkook found this out the night before the gala as you two had yet another home cooked meal together.

“—but yeah, he said he would get back to me later tonight about it,” you updated him, munching on some stir-fry chicken that the both of you made together. As you were cooking the chicken, Jungkook kept stealing glances to look at you, occasionally almost cutting his own finger off in the process. Again, you noticed, but again, you chalked it up to Jungkook just being clumsy.

In fact, you had thought of the possibility of Jungkook actually liking you because well, you weren’t entirely stupid when it comes to the age-old trope of fake dating. But, you instilled a lot of trust in Jungkook that you felt like it was just you being full of yourself. Surely, you were a looker and any man would check you out. Also, your chemistry with Jungkook at this point had been strictly friendly, and if he was into you, he would’ve made moves already like he did to most of the girls he picked up.

Of course, you had no idea he would act completely different around girls he hooked up with versus girls he actually likes.

After a moment of silence, Jungkook asked a rather weird question, uncharacteristic of him.

“Hey, I was uh, thinking if you wanted to smoke some weed with me tonight. You know, just to unwind.”

You raised an eyebrow, tilting your head.

“What, really? You’re not much of a smoker if I remember correctly.”

Jungkook looked down in his bowl, playing with his rice.

“I know. It’s because I get kind of weird with it and like…” he continued fumbling with the rice even more, “I don’t know, I feel comfortable with you enough to where I think I’ll be okay.”

You pouted, smiling a bit. How cute of him, you thought. He trusted you so much.

“That’s adorable.”

Jungkook’s ears turned a light pink.

“Yeah uh…I can pack the first bowl, if you want.”

“Yeah, go ahead.”

You couldn’t believe what was happening. You were making out with Jeon Jungkook.

It came absolutely from left field, something that you never thought when you sparked up the first bowl that you would end up in this position. You literally had no crazy and unhinged sexual thoughts of Jungkook up until that point. Besides admitting to yourself that he was very attractive, you were too close to him to even think about him in that manner.

And yet, you kissed back, and you kissed back hard.

You couldn’t explain it, but you knew you were a touchy person when you were high. It didn’t matter who it was, but the more comfortable you got, the more you put your whole body against his, laughing with your whole body as you leaned onto him for support.

He didn’t contest at all. If anything, he held onto you even tighter, his hands gripping your thighs to pull you closer to him. You felt yourself flush red by his sudden strength, by his sudden forwardness. That was what you liked about Yoongi, or rather, what you liked about in a man in general.

Why was he so forward, you thought to yourself in passing. Why was he so…..fucking….hot to me right now?

There was something about the way his eyes lingered on your lips for way too long as you two calmed down, something about the way your head just fit perfectly above his shoulders and collarbone, something about the way the lighting was that made him look like you could just fucking kiss him. You wondered what his lips taste like suddenly, what his lip rings felt like against your own lips, how much he would’ve loved it if you just teased him, pulling against the metal with his hair pushed back and tugged on.

You could hear him moan your name softly, just begging to do more with you, tugging on your thighs so you could sit properly in his lap.

It was a moment that felt like a dream and a blur, something you couldn’t be able to describe. You felt so good in that moment, and he felt so good on your lips. It didn’t feel wrong at all. If anything, it felt so right and so serendipitous.

It’s the weed, you were thinking to yourself as your guys’ lips parted. There’s no way this could be this good sober.

Jungkook’s eyelashes detached from your own as he opened his eyes, smirking almost too confidently. Your eyes widened at what you two had done as you lifted up your legs to get off of him. He held you back, putting his hands on your hips.

“Where are you going?” he purred, his head snuggling into your shoulders. “I thought you wanted more, baby.”

Your spine tingled at his words as his hands roamed up and down your back, massaging at the right places. You held back a moan and gasped sharply instead, shaking your head.

“Jungkook, I—”

“You what…” he continued, his lips nibbling your neck. “You’re with someone?” he slowly began lifting up your shirt. “You’re not with anyone…you’re not even committed to him.”

You tugged your shirt down, shocked at how incredibly seductive he was. As his head tilted up to look into you, he was gone, his eyes red but filled with unbridled passion. He wanted all of you, and he was getting possessive and aggressive.

You could feel your body starting to feel a certain type of way about it. After all, you hadn’t slept with anybody in a while, and the mere fact that Jungkook was all over you was turning you on. You were always physically attracted to him. His chiseled abs, his sharp jawline and his strong biceps sometimes distracted you. As much as you didn’t want to admit it, you were starting to realize the chemistry you two had to be more than friendly at some point.

What if…this whole time…all of his teases and clumsiness was just him flirting with you?

Your stomach dropped at the fact.

“I want to make you feel good,” he mewled, his hands gripping on your ass as he kept kissing your neck. “I hate seeing you just waiting at the door for that fucking guy when I literally have been dropping hints on how much I want you. I want you so bad…so so bad.”

His hips began rolling against your own as he grunted softly, his eyes bearing deep into yours. He wanted you incredibly bad, the type of desire that you didn’t know Jungkook had within him. It reminded you of Yoongi himself, except by now, he would’ve eaten you out.

You felt bad. Felt bad for wasting Jungkook’s time up until this point, and felt bad that you had been ignoring him. All this time when you were trying to chase Yoongi, he was there by your side, just pathetically wanting you like a lovesick puppy.

Your heart sank at the thought of it as you pulled away, cupping his face. His eyes were half-lidded, drunk from the passion and desperation.

“Jungkook, I can’t do this,” your eyes began tearing up. “I can’t have you be like this. You’re my friend and I just…” you sniffled. “I don’t see you anymore than just hooking up right now.”

He blinked slowly, biting his lips.

“I don’t fucking care,” he replied simply. “I don’t fucking care if you don’t like me back. Even if we were to fuck now, I don’t care if you don’t catch feelings. As long as you’re mine at this moment and nobody else’s. As long as you think of me the way you feel about him at this moment…” his lips made a small pathetic smile, “You can use me, I don’t fucking care. I want you too much…way too much. Just to fucking taste you, I’d risk it all. I’d do anything for you...”

He slowly dropped off the last syllable, slowly dozing off to sleep. You sighed deeply, putting his head back against the couch. As you slowly got off of him, you saw the time, realizing it was already the morning of the gala.

Fuck. What do I do now?

[MIN YOONGI: Are you ready to go?]

[MIN YOONGI: I’m on my way.]

[MIN YOONGI: I’m here.]

You and Jungkook were staring into each other’s eyes from across the room. He wasn’t trying to put up a front anymore as he swallowed hard, sticking his tongue around the edges of his mouth.

You two were dressed up to go to the same gala, except this time, it wasn’t together. You couldn’t help but to feel a great distance between you two since last night, and it has gotten incredibly awkward.

Jungkook apologized profusely after he had woken up, but it was through a closed door. You locked yourself in your room at that point, trying to reorganize your emotions about everything. You were replaying every moment you two had in your head as things began to make sense. Jungkook was clearly in love with you and didn’t have the heart to say it, and you took advantage of him. You wondered if it was the right decision to even go to the gala at this point, as it would stick the knife even more that you guys weren’t seeing each other.

In fact, you forgot about Yoongi completely since last night, wondering if all this time you were just chasing that feeling of being wanted or needed by a strong-willed guy instead of Min Yoongi himself. Yoongi still made you nervous, but that feeling also came back as Jungkook knocked on your door, begging to talk to you. Your stomach was in knots, just thinking about how he kissed you so passionately last night, how much he wanted you…

You were thinking twice about this gala date. Badly.

[MIN YOONGI: Hello?]

As you wore yet another revealing dress, all dolled up and pretty, you opened the front door, swinging your purse over your shoulder as you hastily text back:

[YOU: Sorry, I’m coming!]

With one more look at Jungkook, who at this point was looking at his phone, you closed the door behind you and there you went, breaking his heart even more to pieces.

It didn’t take long before Yoongi was all over you. The moment you got in the car, he immediately pounced, making out with you in the same passion and energy as Jungkook did the night before. He desperately wanted to taste you, and perhaps, twenty four hours ago, you would’ve relished every moment of it even more than you did now.

“I fucking missed you,” he breathed as he parted his lips from you, leaning back against the driver’s seat. “I couldn’t stop thinking about what you sent me last night…”

You forgot. You had sent some spicy nudes to him prior to getting high and frisky with Jungkook.

How fucking awful, you thought. You were really messing with these men’s feelings.

As Yoongi backed up from the parking spot with one hand, he wiped his mouth with the other free hand before putting it on your lap.

“Fuck, I wish I was Jeon Jungkook, that fucking bastard,” he growled, shaking his head. “The fact that that kid is in your house when you took those is not fucking right.”

Your stomach lurched at the mention of his name. Fuck, you were all over that guy last night. It seemed on the surface that Yoongi knew you did. Maybe perhaps he was in the apartment with you two as your tongue swirled around Jungkook’s, your hands pressed against his stiff, hardened chest as his dick did the same, wanting to fuck you desperately.

Maybe Yoongi would’ve joined you guys, volunteering his tongue to eat the both of you out. The thought of the both of them fucking you at the same time was getting you feeling a certain type of way, but you shook that nasty thought of yours aside.

God, you were so fucking toxic for both of them. What the hell are you going to do? You can’t have both of them.

Can you?

“Fuck,” you muttered under your breath, laughing quietly to yourself. What a hot mess you were in.

Yoongi heard you and looked at you with a big smirk. You snapped back into your horniness immediately, fantasizing fucking the both of them. Just the idea of the both of them taking turns as you relished in having both was exhilarating for you.

“Fuck what?” he said in his low voice. “You want to fuck before the gala starts?”

You bit your bottom lip, closing your legs as if you were being shy about it.

“If you want…” you batted your eyelashes not-so-innocently. “I’ve been missing that fucking tongue of yours.”

Despite coming later, Jungkook didn’t see you at all. As he craned his neck around the hotel conference room, he didn’t see Yoongi or you. Could it be that you two had skipped it all together? He wondered, but also, that dreadful feeling in his stomach that the two of you were together made him feel sick.

Of course, he had no idea you were getting eaten out by Yoongi in the backseat of his Mercedes GT in the parking lot, trying to not make much noise as people began to pass by the vehicle.

What you loved the most was Yoongi’s fixated stare on you as he made sure to get you to orgasm before coming in. You knew how much Yoongi took care of you during sex, and the fact that he was willing to give just showed how much he missed you and wanted you incredibly badly.

What made you more turned on was the fact that you fantasized about Jungkook watching the both of you through the tinted glass, jerking off just outside of the car. You imagined how much he whined about wanting to get inside to fuck you too, joining in on the action.

You relished the idea of a threesome, even though you knew the both of them would hate sharing. That turned you on even more as you came in minutes, sloppily kissing the living hell out of Yoongi as a thank you.

As Yoongi delicately put back your thong in place, you sat up and fixed yourself as he chuckled darkly, wiping his mouth with his suit jacket. You leaned in, fixing the tie that he swept over his shoulder to position himself in front of your spread legs from earlier.

“You still taste so good babe,” he purred, kissing your lips. Sweeping his tousled hair back with his hand, he opened the door behind him and stepped out the car delicately, extending his hand out after like a chauffeur gesturing to their passenger to get out.

You giggled, sliding your bottom across the red leather seats as you got out, pulling your dress back down. Grabbing your hand, Yoongi pulled you closer against his frame, smiling widely at you.

“Let’s go in.”

Your eyes were scanning for Jungkook. You wanted some minutes with him too, and it didn’t take long before you found him in the corner with a drink, eyes already meeting with yours. He looked like a lovesick puppy that needed immediate attention, and you wanted to give that to him.

As Yoongi gave you a light smooch and excused himself to talk to Thomas Wesley, you snuck toward the back of the room where Jungkook was. As you sultrily strutted toward his direction, Jungkook straightened himself up immediately, clearing his throat as you confidently pushed him against the wall.

“Fuck, what the hell,” Jungkook exclaimed. His eyes widened at your eyes, darkened with sexual desire.

Before he could say more, you grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the gender neutral bathroom door, whispering in his ear,

“Do you want to finish what we were doing yesterday?”

Jungkook was taken aback by your words, completely speechless. He didn’t know what else to say other than one word of confirmation and there you went, whisking Jungkook away to give him a few minutes of your time.

As you pinned him against the wall and made out with him, you thought of Yoongi banging on the door, demanding to come inside to see the both of you unraveling. Jungkook didn’t take much time to explore your body and specifically, your still very wet and well-licked pussy.

“You fucking whore,” Jungkook hissed, his fingers rubbing deep in your folds. “Yoongi was here first, wasn’t he?”

“Mm,” you mewled back, putting your arms around his neck. “I decided I want the both of you at the same time, same place…”

Jungkook’s head was spinning.

“Fuck you,” he growled, slowly jerking you off. “You’re such a cheater, a fucking whore.”

“Am I?” you moaned back, leaning into his body. You were quivering at how fast Jungkook’s fingers were going as you tugged his belt open, unzipping his pants. “You guys are so hot, how can I not want to be filled up by both of you?”

Jungkook pulled his fingers away and turned you around, bending you over. You gasped sharply as he led you to the sink, your hands on the opposite sides of it. Pushing your thong out of the way and pulling your dress up, he pulled his pants down, showing his hardened dick.

“Well, let me go first then,” he tapped his dick on the side of your ass as you moaned softly before going into you, filling you up. You gasped loudly as you straightened up with Jungkook putting his arm around your neck, fucking you senselessly. You tried your best not to scream out loud to not alert any of the guests, but fuck, Jungkook was incredibly good.

He didn’t take that long before he finished cumming on your exposed ass before beginning to fix himself up. As you pulled your dress down, furious knocking was heard on the other side of the door. The both of you cursed quietly to yourself as you went over, hair still slightly out of place as you opened the door slightly to see who it was.

“Fuck, you had more fun without me?”

Yoongi scoffed as you closed the door behind you, sheepishly fixing the bottom of your dress.

“I’m sorry, I guess I’m having a bit too much fun with the both of you,” you laughed lightly as, to your surprise, Yoongi’s lips turned into a smirk. He wasn’t angry. If anything, he was relishing at the idea of the both of them taking turns on you. It was then you remembered how much Yoongi enjoyed public sex in general.

Licking his lips, he pulled you around the waist as he nuzzled your neck. As you two made your way towards your table, he whispered,

“You want another round with me in an hour?”

Throughout the night, the both of them rotated you around. It was the best that you could manage and soon enough, by the end of the night, you three were back in Yoongi’s Mercedes, having a great time. As Yoongi finished his load in you in the backseat and Jungkook finished himself in the passenger seat, all three of you hummed in satisfaction. You sat back up into Yoongi’s lap as he wrapped his arms around you, leaning against your shoulder.

“Maybe this could work out,” Yoongi broke the silence, chuckling. “I mean, I don’t want to see you fucking her myself, but we can have a little arrangement together.”

“I don’t mind,” Jungkook smirked, pulling up his boxers and pants. “It’s not a bad idea, right?”

You grinned, kissing the both of them separately before responding,

“Yeah. It’s not.”

[END!]

#jungkook #yoongi #yoongi x reader #jungkook x reader #yoongi fanfic #jungkook fanfic #bts smut #bts #mine #writing #HHHHH it's been a minute!!!#like i am DYING and i have no home but i will write fic yup #yoongi is like.....hard to write but i PERSERVED #he's so sexy in this i would eat him so bad #but jungkook <3 #my lovesick loser puppy jungkook <3 #anyways pls enjoy i had fun writing this #yoongi is so hot in this im sorry im sorry ims orry im LOYAL I SWEAR

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