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hamsterclaw · 1 year

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All Jungkook's ever wanted to do is fly, and he's damned good at it. Then you turn up, and get under his skin.

Genre: Fighter pilot! JK AU, smut

Word count: 8k

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Sex, swearing, fighter pilots, plane crashes

Wing Commander Jeon Jungkook has done all the calculations he needs to land safely, even on a moving target. He casts a glance at his controls, but he’s not looking at individual displays, just making sure nothing’s red or alarming. His arm is stretched, instinctively locked, and he allows it to relax, allows the throttle to move forward.

Jungkook’s clocked in close to a thousand flight hours in the F-35, more than any other pilot in his squadron, but he’s never taken any of it for granted. He takes his hand off the throttle just long enough to lower the landing gear and flaps.

Now or never.

Jungkook executes an almost perfect vertical landing on the tarmac of the Destroyer with his eyes closed because frankly if anything went wrong right now it would be beyond his control.

He opens his eyes, thanks whoever’s looking out for him and climbs out of the cockpit. There’s no time for the adrenaline to ebb, because as soon as his feet touch solid ground on water, he sees a familiar blond head.

He’s too far away to make out his expression, but there’s only one man on this ship with blond hair, and Jungkook’s known Jimin long enough to tell by the way his shoulders are squared that he’s tense, angry.

Jimin’s level-headed normally, he didn’t come by his callsign Durumi by chance. He’s always been slow to anger, able to maintain his perspective, capable of finding a peaceful way forward in almost any conflict. His cool head under pressure makes him valuable in battle, not that they ever engage in dogfights these days.

After knowing him for over a decade, Jungkook can count the number of times he’s seen Jimin angry on one hand. He’s started forward, recognising a bad situation when he sees it, when the fight starts.

It’s quick, merciless and brutal in its efficiency. Jimin darts away, ducks the first blow from the taller man he’s been facing off with, and lands a beautifully timed swing to the other man’s jaw, knocking him out cold.

The man, who Jungkook now recognises as Lee Hyeok, a new transplant from the now defunct 492nd squadron, crumples to the floor, and for the first time, Jungkook sees you.

He knows of you, even if he’s never officially met you. There aren’t that many women around, not in this job, and there hadn’t been any women in his squadron before the merger with 492.

His first impression of you is of blankness. If watching the two men fight had any impact on you whatsoever, it doesn’t show in your smooth expression.

Jungkook doesn’t trust what he can’t see. And he sure as fuck doesn’t trust you, given what’s just happened.

‘What the hell, Jimin?’ he asks, voice tense, one eye on the fallen pilot sprawled on the deck.

Jimin’s gaze flicks to yours, and you both start speaking at the same time.

Jungkook holds up a hand. ‘This is going to be an investigation, you know that,’ he says, to Jimin more than you.

‘There’s nothing to investigate,’ says Lee Hyeok. He gets up, unsteady but recovering rapidly. He fixes Jungkook with a steady gaze. ‘I fell.’

Jungkook hardens his stare. ‘I saw him —‘

Unexpectedly, you step forward. ‘It was my fault,’ you say, quietly, convincingly.

Jimin’s trying to step in front of you.

Jungkook throws his hands up, exasperated.

‘If this happens again I’m reporting all three of you,’ Jungkook says.

Wisely, all three of you fall silent.

‘Go and get checked out in the infirmary,’ Jungkook orders.

Jimin grabs your arm as you try to move away. ‘You need to get checked out too,’ he says, firmly.

Jungkook can’t see any visible injuries on you, unlike Jimin’s swollen hand and Hyeok’s bruised jaw.

‘I’m fine,’ you say, but you go along with them anyway.

Jungkook watches you walk away, with a sense of foreboding. He’d known the merger of 492nd and his own wouldn’t be smooth, but he wonders what the hell that had been about.

***

The next morning, Jungkook wakes to an ache in his neck from years of straining against g-forces and an erection that he takes care of in the shower. It’s been a while since he last got laid, he’s just come off a mission in the South.

He casts a cursory glance in the mirror as he gets dressed in his regs. His hair’s getting longer, starting to wave in a way it doesn’t when he’s on top of getting it cut regularly.

He’s going to need to stop by the barber later this morning.

The truth is, though, that Jungkook doesn’t think about the way he looks much. At least not in the way women seem to view him. He’d never thought twice about his eyes until an ex had snapped at him to ‘stop making those goddamn doe eyes’ at her. He’s always been athletic, the defined abs and shoulders he’s had since high school have only got more prominent since he started training more, eating well. He’d never really thought about his thighs until another ex had seemed to get off on how they felt under her.

So although he’s never had to make an effort to find a woman willing to sleep with him, Jungkook’s never been the type of guy to take advantage.

Jungkook’s always wanted to fly, and everything else has always, always, only ever been a means to that.

He laces his boots, right before left, and heads for the canteen. He picks up a tray, looks for somewhere to sit, really scanning for Jimin or Namjoon or Yoongi. He doesn’t see any of his friends, but he does see you.

You’re sitting alone by the window, conspicuous in your solitariness. Jungkook finds his feet taking him over to you, an instinct he doesn’t understand but he learned long ago to trust his gut.

You look up as he puts his tray down and takes the seat opposite you. You nod a greeting and carry on eating like you don’t intend to say anything to him.

Jungkook watches as you gulp your coffee.

‘You know, if you’re eating quicker to finish your meal and get away from me, you don’t have to,’ he tells you.

You put your empty cup down.

‘I can move,’ he offers.

‘It’s nothing like that, Commander Jeon,’ you say. Your face is expressionless, blank as usual. ‘I’m thinking about the day ahead.’

Jungkook spoons his porridge. ‘I didn’t mean to presume,’ he says. ‘Did the docs clear you for duty?’

There’s the barest flicker across your face as you reply. ‘I’ve been cleared. Jimin and Hyeok are off for a week.’

‘Want to tell me what happened?’ he asks.

Your eyes study his face, and if Jungkook didn’t already know you were holding back he’d have worked it out by the emotions he can see in your eyes.

Then you blink, and sit back.

‘I have nothing to say, Commander,’ you say.

You’ve decided not to trust him, and Jungkook’s irritated about it, enough that there’s an edge to his voice as he says, ‘there’s a flight exercise at 1200 hours. We’re going up in the F-15.’

You nod, and pick up your tray. ‘I’ll be there, Commander.’

Jungkook looks down at his now lukewarm porridge after you walk away. Somehow he’s lost his appetite.

***

It’s a beautiful day for flying. Jungkook’s cued up first, waiting for the go ahead from the control tower, that familiar electricity coursing through his veins. No matter how many times he suits up, it never gets old.

He flicks the engine switch, hand on the throttle, feet braced on the rudder pedals. He goes through the steps, 0 to 175 in under two minutes and then he’s off, positive rate of climb.

He can see in his helmet-mounted cueing system that everything’s as it should be. He evens out at fifty thousand feet, and checks his colour display to see you taking up wingman alongside him.

Your cool voice sounds in his in-ears, sounding like you’re in his head.

‘All good, Hawk?’

Jungkook knows that, as far as callsigns go, he’s fortunate to have been named ‘Hawk’, unlike Namjoon’s ‘Snoopy’ or Taehyung’s ‘Baby G’, but he’s never seen himself as a ‘hawk’. He much prefers Jimin’s ‘Durumi’.

He realises he doesn’t know your callsign.

‘It’s ‘Kokinchan’,’ you say, like you can hear the question he hasn’t voiced. ‘Like in Anpanman.’

The disgruntlement in your voice doesn’t stop the smile across Jungkook’s face, and he’s grateful you can’t see it.

‘Ok, Kokinchan. Ready to fly?’

By the time Jungkook lands on the tarmac, he’s learned two things about you. One, you’re a pretty steady, reliable wingman and two — totally unrelated to flying….

Your voice sounds incredible in his ear.

Initially, he’d thought you were a blank, difficult to read. Listening to you during the flight, he’d been able to pick up all your emotions in your voice. The lilt in your words as you’d executed a manoeuvre perfectly in sync with him, the hitch in your breathing as you’d taken in the glorious terrain. The last breathy gasp you’d let out before you’d landed, a release after the silent concentration that had preceeded it, had sent blood shooting to his cock.

Jungkook’s glad he’s still got his g-suit on to keep blood streaming to appropriate places in his body.

You clamber out of the cockpit, all legs, fizzing over with excitement, and catch up to him by the locker rooms.

Because he’s watching you out of the corner of his eye, he sees the moment your dizzy expression smooths over into your usual deadpan face.

You haven’t quite managed to curb the emotion in your voice, though, and Jungkook has the uncharacteristic urge to pull you under his arm and squeeze you when you say, ‘incredible,’ voice vibrating.

Jungkook starts unzipping his g-suit to give himself something to do. Behind him, he can hear you rustling, getting changed yourself.

You spend time unlacing your boots, placing them carefully in your locker.

Jungkook’s amused by your persnicketiness, a stark contrast to the piles of boots scattered throughout the locker room.

He says, meaning it as a joke, ‘I don’t think anyone else wears your size.’

In his squadron, Jimin’s not a lot taller than you but his feet are definitely bigger than yours.

You don’t look his way. ‘I don’t want to share with a bunch of stinky male feet,’ you reply.

Jungkook’s so attuned to your voice by now he picks up a guardedness that he hasn’t heard since he met you that first time.

You don’t give him time to think about it.

When you turn to him, your expression is fractionally warmer than your customary blankness. ‘See you at lunch, Commander.’

***

He doesn’t see you at lunch. In fact, the next time Jungkook sees you, you’re wearing a short dress and leaning back against the bar in the nice restaurant in town.

He says your real name, and you give him a smile so pained he thinks for a second it isn’t you.

Then you say his name back.

‘I’m hiding,’ you say by way of explanation, manoeuvring yourself so that he’s between you and the rest of the room.

‘Need a wingman?’ Jungkook offers, for lack of anything better to say. You’re leaning forward, head close to his, and from this vantage point he can see down the low neck of your dress.

He forces his eyes back to your face. Thankfully you haven’t noticed his lapse.

You look morose. ‘I wish I had Snoopy to aim a laser at him,’ you reply. You brighten. ‘Maybe you could shoot him down.’

Jungkook’s only mildly concerned, he’s seen you being merciless in training exercises and he’s pretty sure you can look after yourself.

‘I don’t know why I bother to date,’ you sigh.

Then you seem to notice how smartly dressed he is. ‘Shit, sorry, are you meeting someone?’

‘She cancelled,’ Jungkook explains. ‘I have a table. I was looking forward to the wagyu.’

‘She’s a fool to cancel on you, look at you,’ you say, loyally.

‘Where’s your date?’ Jungkook asks.

‘I excused myself to use the ladies,’ you say, face falling as you remember your predicament. ‘He was explaining how the F-18 weapons systems work.’

‘He knows you fly them, doesn’t he?’ Jungkook asks, incredulous.

You roll your eyes. ‘Some men.’

You shrug. ‘I should fly one over his house,’ you say, despondent. ‘We haven’t even ordered and I’m looking forward to leaving.’

There’s an unfamiliar male voice over Jungkook’s shoulder.

‘There you are,’ says a good-looking, tall guy, smiling at you.

Jungkook’s always been quick on his feet.

He turns to face the guy. ‘Honey,’ he says, voice exasperated. ‘I thought we weren’t doing this anymore.’

You blink up at him, so quick he has whiplash. ‘Baby, he’s cute, you said —-‘

‘I’m sorry,’ Jungkook says to the guy, acting embarrassed. ‘We’re in an open marriage but well, we agreed to —-‘

You slide smoothly up to him, hand hooking into the crook of his arm like you’ve done it a million times before. ‘But daddy —-‘

Jungkook stares you down sternly. ‘We said no more pickups unless we talk about it beforehand. And where’s your wedding ring?’

You pout up at him. ‘Daddy I can’t pick up guys with a wedding ring on.’

Jungkook sighs, turning back to your unfortunate date. ‘Sorry, man. We need to talk —-‘

The guy’s already backing away, hands up. ‘I had no idea,’ he says to Jungkook. ‘That she was married.’

Jungkook waves him away and turns back to you.

‘Daddy?’ he asks, under his breath. ‘Do I seem like a daddy to you?’

‘He’s out the door,’ you report, gracing him with a smile so bright he can’t help but smile back. ‘Do you still have your table? I like wagyu too.’

‘You’re buying, Kokinchan,’ Jungkook grumbles.

‘I’ll even spring for dessert,’ you promise.

***

The steak’s as buttery and delicious as Jungkook had expected, going down easy with the wine you’d ordered with a careless gesture at the wine list.

You’re concentrating on your steak, humming as you enjoy it, and Jungkook likes watching you.

‘Why Kokinchan?’ he asks.

You narrow your eyes at him, skin gleaming in the candlelight. ‘I made Minseok cry once. And I cried too.’

‘What happened?’

‘Dropped the weight I was holding on his balls.’ You grimace. ‘He cried and I felt so bad I cried too, running him to the infirmary.’

‘On purpose?’

There’s a shadow across your expression. ‘Hyeok thought it’d be funny to sneak up on me and grab my ass. Minseok was a bystander.’

Jungkook’s got the sense there’s more to the story you’re not telling him.

You shrug and change the subject.

‘So how come your date ditched you?’ you ask. ‘Apart from that she’s an idiot, of course.’

‘Of course,’ agrees Jungkook, smiling crookedly at you.

It’s his turn to shrug. ‘Maybe she turned up and didn’t like the look of me.’

You scoff. ‘Please, you look great. That shade of blue suits you. Better than khaki and black, anyway. I didn’t know you had a lip ring.’

Jungkook’s trying to keep up. ‘I like wearing black.’

‘We wear black all the time,’ you reply. You gesture to the silvery dress you have on. ‘It’s nice to wear something else.’

Jungkook’s trying to think of something to say when you say, quickly. ‘I’m not fishing for a compliment. Just to clarify.’

‘I wasn’t going to give you one,’ he says, honestly.

You laugh. ‘Shit. Thanks, I guess.’

You lift your wine and clink glasses with him.

‘Cheers, Hawk. What do you want for dessert?’

***

Jungkook pays the taxi driver and is wondering if he should offer you his jacket when he realises you’re already halfway to the block of living quarters.

‘Wait up,’ he calls.

You wave a graceful arm at him without turning around. ‘I don’t put out on a first date, not even for a man who can fire a cannon.’

Jungkook stops, torn between amusement and exasperation.

‘I just wanted to say thanks for dinner,’ he says.

You turn, and he realises you’re more off-balance than he originally thought.

‘How drunk are you?’ he wonders out loud.

You tip your head to one side, counting.

Jungkook stares at you, brow furrowed.

‘Three,’ you say, decisive. ‘There are three of you.’

You shake your head. ‘No, four.’

‘Need help getting into your flat?’ Jungkook asks, rolling his eyes.

You frown at him, offended. ‘Of course not. See you at training tomorrow, Commander.’

You give him a tipsy salute and turn away.

Jungkook waits until you’re safely inside the building anyway.

***

Jungkook looks up as you slide into your seat in the briefing room. You’re technically right on time, but everyone else arrived ten minutes early.

You give him a tentative smile that he doesn’t have time to return.

Colonel Park, a decorated veteran and director of the fighter pilot programme, clears his throat and begins.

Jungkook already knows about this upcoming mission, as leader of the 490th squadron, he’s been pre-briefed.

On the surface, it’s simple enough. The mission only needs four pilots, two to make a drop and two to create a diversion and cover the drop.

Jimin, back from medical leave and none the worse for wear, nods his way.

After the brief he comes up to Jungkook.

‘Flip for it?’ he says, that familiar shit-eating grin on his face as Jungkook rolls his eyes.

Jungkook’s the most decorated pilot in the squadron but Jimin’s a close second.

Jungkook shrugs.

Jimin produces a coin and flips it onto his palm.

‘Heads,’ Jungkook calls.

It’s tails.

‘Great. I’ll make the drop, you provide the distraction. Also, you get Kokinchan,’ Jimin says.

‘Shit, did they just flip for us?’ Taehyung asks, nudging you, pretending to be offended.

You shrug. ‘All you boys look the same in my afterburner,’ you say, to a chorus of whoops from Jimin and Taehyung.

Jungkook catches your gaze. ‘If your trash talk’s as good as your flying, Kokinchan, we’ve got this,’ he says, easy.

‘My flying’s even better, Hawk, it’s your lucky day.’

Jungkook laughs and follows you to the locker rooms to suit up.

***

You’re tight on Jungkook’s tail, keeping up with him even though the terrain’s unfamiliar to you both.

He pulls his nose up. There’s a SMARD missile a few hundred meters away that he’s intentionally going to fly within radar detection range of, and then he’s relying on his own flying and your flares to evade.

He’s activating his mic to speak when your voice sounds in his in-ears.

‘Flares are ready when you are, Hawk.’

‘Glad you’re paying attention, baby.’

‘Maybe I’ll let them burn your ass for that.’

‘Sorry, Kokinchan. If it helps, I once called Durumi, baby. He’s never let me live it down.’

‘Durumi’s kind of a baby though, I see it.’

Jungkook laughs.

‘Let’s go, Kokinchan.’

He adjusts his position, heading straight for the target.

He’s just entered the detection zone when his in-ears crackle with the voice of Hyemi from control.

Jungkook has a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

‘Hawk, there’s a bandit, due North.’

It’s one thing to evade a SMARD, it’s another to evade a SMARD with a bandit, a hostile plane on you.

You’re already descending, trying to get out of range on the off-chance that Jungkook hasn’t triggered the SMARD.

He admires your optimism but he’s a realist.

Your voice is steady in his in-ears. ‘Ready to drop, Hawk.’

Jungkook says, terse, ‘Stay on me.’

He sees smoke, pulls back on the throttle, hard, to ascend, and you drop your flares like you’ve rehearsed it.

Your timing’s impeccable.

The SMARD zips past Jungkook just as you say, ‘don’t think he just wants to say ‘hi’’.

The bandit’s approaching too fast, right in your flight path.

He can hear you shouting, but he can’t make out any actual words apart from ‘motherfucker’, clear as day, as you fire your cannon.

The bandit implodes in front of them, a ball of burning shrapnel.

Then ‘ah shit, Hawk, I’m an engine down.’

Jungkook’s reassured by the tone of your voice, calm despite the fact you’re two octaves higher in pitch than you normally are.

‘Hey,’ he says, going for levity because you need to detach yourself from what’s just happened before the adrenaline overwhelms you. ‘Is that why they call you Kokinchan?’

‘Why?’ you ask, playing along, grasping at the hope of a punchline that you can actually laugh at to release some of the tension.

‘Because of that squeaky voice,’ he says.

His stupid joke doesn’t warrant the full-bodied laugh you let out, but Jungkook likes hearing it all the same.

‘You know what they really call you, Hawk?’

‘What?’ Jungkook asks, watching you carefully as you head back to base.

‘The boba-eyed fuckboi.’

‘Shut up, no one calls me that.’

You both laugh.

Then, soft in his in-ears. ‘I can make it back with one engine right?’

‘Yeah,’ he says immediately, wanting to reassure you. ‘Just don’t break the other one.’

‘Yeah. See you on the ground, Hawk.’

‘I’ll be in your afterburner, Kokinchan.’

The last thing he hears before you land is your soft laughter.

He’s reminded again of how much he likes the way you sound.

***

Jungkook climbs out of his cockpit, looking around for you.

He finds you hunched over a bin next to the hangar, eyes watering, hand on your stomach.

Wordlessly, he hands you his water.

You flick your eyes at him as you accept and take a big swig, wiping your mouth.

Jungkook leans against the wall next to you, head back, not wanting you to feel like he’s intruding. The setting sun warms the skin on his face and neck.

When he opens his eyes, you’re looking at him.

The ends of your hair are on fire, backlit by the sunset.

You’re beautiful.

‘I’ve —‘ you stop, swallow. ‘I’ve never killed someone before, Hawk.’

Jungkook knows what you’re really asking. He’s taken down two fighters in combat because he had to. It’d taken him a while to feel normal again.

He’s not sure he even still knows what normal is.

‘You think about it less over time,’ he says carefully, wanting to reassure you but not wanting to give you unrealistic expectations.

You’re looking at him intently, searching his face.

Jungkook lets you look, stays still, gazing back at you steadily, unflinching, until you find whatever it is you’re looking for.

You both seem to realise how close you’re standing to each other at the same time.

You take a step back because he can’t, pressed with his back against the wall.

‘Hey, let’s get a beer,’ he says.

‘You buying?’ you ask, reverting to your default spiky personality.

Jungkook has the urge to hug you, to tell you that you don’t have to put up your spikes with him, that he’ll toe whatever boundaries you put in front of him.

Instead he says, ‘yeah. I’ll even spring for dinner, Kokinchan.’

Back at the locker room you drop your boots next to his. ‘I think I dropped my locker keys,’ you say, frowning.

Jungkook says, gently, ‘you don’t have to worry about me stealing your boots.’

Again, he gets the odd sense that he’s missing something when he sees your expression.

All you say is, ‘I’d like Italian for dinner please, Hawk.’

Jungkook’s ready to buy you whatever you want to eat.

***

The restaurant’s busy for a Thursday but Jungkook gets you in, no problem. He doesn’t even have to use his ‘boba eyes’ although he’s sure that’s not a thing.

You’re smiling at him, open and so pretty he’s wondering how inappropriate it would be to kiss you, when your eyes focus on something behind him.

The guarded, carefully blank expression that drops across your face reminds him of curtains being drawn, of shutters being snapped shut.

‘Hyeok,’ you say tightly, and Jungkook doesn’t have to know you well, at all, to hear the tension in your voice.

Your shoulders are around your ears.

Jungkook feels tense himself as Hyeok and Sungcheol, another pilot from 492nd, stop by the table.

‘Hey, Kokinchan,’ Hyeok says.

The words are harmless enough, but Jungkook doesn’t like the way he sounds. He especially doesn’t like the way he looks at you.

Hyeok nods to Jungkook. ‘Commander.’

‘Heard you took down an F-15 today,’ Hyeok says.

‘What’s your point?’ you ask, voice low, barely veiled hostility in your eyes.

Jungkook wants to tell you he’s got you but you’re not even looking at him.

‘Is that what it takes to get the Commander to buy you dinner?’ Hyeok asks.

The insinuation is clear.

‘Why don’t you try it and let me know?’ you ask.

There’s a taunting, defiant note in your voice that Jungkook can’t help but admire.

He stands. ‘If you’ll excuse us, I promised Kokinchan dinner for saving our asses earlier,’ he says firmly, indicating they should move on.

When he sits back down you’re quiet until he says, ‘hey.’

The look you give him is very different from how you’d been until now. He’s reminded of that first time he sat across from you at breakfast, how you’d finished your scalding hot coffee in record time in your haste to move.

‘Why are fighter pilots such assholes,’ you mutter.

‘I don’t know. A baseline disrespect for authority or anyone who tells us ‘no’? A deluded sense of god-like power from cheating death repeatedly?’

You’re looking at him again, and Jungkook’s not going to let you hide back in your shell.

‘You and I are still the same, Kokinchan, and today we’ve earned these carbs. Eat up.’

‘I didn’t know you’d ever met a carb,’ you say, but there’s a smile tugging at your lips now.

‘Thank you for noticing,’ Jungkook says, flexing.

The smile on your face is brief, only lasting the gap between bites, but it’s enough for Jungkook.

By the time dessert comes round Jungkook’s gently teasing you, revelling in your embarrassment as he reminds you about the choice swear words you shouted into his in-ears during the mission.

‘You’re one to talk,’ you say. ‘You sound really breathy when you’re gaining altitude.’

Jungkook raises a brow.

‘It’s practically pornographic,’ you continue.

Jungkook rolls his eyes. ‘Please, Durumi is more pornographic than me. You should hear him when he’s pushing g’s.’

‘Oh my god, Baby G’s the worst,’ you say, but there’s affection in your voice.

‘That’s because his voice is sexy as a baseline,’ Jungkook points out.

‘Yeah, we used to share a flat before I got fed up with hearing all his sex talk,’ you say.

‘He does seem like the kind of guy who’d talk a lot during sex,’ Jungkook agrees.

‘Just noises are fine for me thanks, throw in a couple of oh baby’s and I’m good,’ you say, lightly.

Jungkook realises you’ve made it all the way to your door.

You say, ‘thanks for dinner, Hawk,’ but you don’t move, standing with your back pressed against the door.

Jungkook feels like he’s not ready to say goodbye, but he’s not going to push you into anything.

‘It does get better,’ he tells you.

You smile. ‘The aftermath of taking down another pilot or Baby G’s sex talk? Because Taehyung only gets worse, I can tell you.’

You’re joking of course, deflecting again.

Jungkook can feel your eyes on his face.

He leans forward a little, putting his weight on the closed door, giving you time to move if you want to.

Instead you stay put, face tilted to his.

There’s no reason to be standing like this apart from that he very badly wants to kiss you.

‘Hawk,’ you breathe. You’re reaching up, pressing a chaste, sweet kiss to his cheek.

‘Thanks for dinner.’

Jungkook smiles at you. ‘Anytime, Kokinchan.’

You smile at him again, then turn and let yourself into your apartment.

Jungkook’s left with a vague tightness in his pants and a sense that this thing with you could be something good if you let it.

***

Jungkook wakes the next morning thinking of you.

His hand brushes his erect cock, fingers tightening around himself.

He pumps his fist once, the memory of your pretty lips on his cheek making his dick harden even more.

He’s no virgin but the thought of getting to see you in the pale lace lingerie he’d glimpsed that night he’d run into you at that restaurant and accidentally looked down the low neck of your top makes him keep moving his fist.

Shit. Is he really doing this?

Even as he ponders the morality of it his hands are moving, uncapping the lube he keeps under his mattress like he’s some teenager and not a full grown adult who changes his own sheets.

Jungkook groans at the slide, dick hardening even more as he remembers how firm your breasts felt against his chest when you kissed him.

Fuck, you’d kissed him! With those lips he’s been a little too respectful to imagine around his cock.

God, you’d smelled so good.

He’s gasping now, hand moving faster, other hand cupping his balls.

He thinks of the breathy gasp you’d let out when you landed the F-15, the way your voice sounds when you say ‘fuck’ and he’s gone.

As he’s cleaning up he wonders, a little guiltily, whether he’ll be able to look you in the face at breakfast.

***

As it turns out, he doesn’t see you at breakfast.

He’s picking up his gear from the locker room, when he notices that your boots have moved from where they were next to his.

He frowns. It takes him a while to spot them, longer to realise why they look odd.

Your laces have been cut, all the way across the middle, laid open, useless.

He picks them up, heads for the mess lounge.

Stops in front of the stupid bulletin board no one ever looks at, including him.

There’s a picture of you, but not as he’s ever seen you before.

It’s your face, certainly, pretty and smiling, stuck onto a printout of a naked female body.

It’s glaring, crude, invasive.

Jungkook stares at it incredulously, startles guiltily when he hears your voice.

You tear it off the bulletin board, crumpling it in your fist.

‘I’d chuck it in the trash but there’s no guarantee someone wouldn’t just lift it out and put it up again,’ you say, voice carefully, cautiously flat.

You nod to the boots in his hand.

‘I have a new set of laces, I always have a spare pair with me,’ you say.

Jungkook lets you take the boots from him.

He finds his voice.

‘Has this happened before, Y/N?’

You wince at the sound of your real name instead of your callsign.

You shrug.

‘I don’t have anything to say about it, Commander.’

Like you, Jungkook blinks at the sting of his title instead of the more familiar ‘Hawk’ he’d got accustomed to you calling him.

‘Kokinchan,’ he says, willing you to trust him.

You’re looking above his head, through him instead of at him.

‘I can help. If someone in the squadron is doing all this I can help make it stop,’ Jungkook says.

You’re looking at him now, eyes softening.

‘It’s a society that enables this kind of hateful misogyny that has to change, Hawk, not you.’

There’s a sadness to your smile that punches him in the chest.

You turn, back straight, and leave the room as he’s trying to think of something to say.

***

You’re sitting with Jimin at dinner when Jungkook turns up.

‘You ok?’ Jungkook asks. He hasn’t seen you since the lounge, he’d had to go to another brief.

Your expression is difficult to read.

‘I’m good, Hawk. Heard you got called in by Colonel Park.’

Jimin’s looking at him expectantly, so Jungkook allows the change of subject.

‘We’ve got another job to do,’ he says, reluctantly. ‘We’ll get a full brief tomorrow but it’s another drop.’

‘Who’s going?’ Jimin asks.

‘We need six,’ Jungkook says, ‘and two alternates.’

He looks at you.

‘You’re flying with Skua.’

Skua is Hyeok’s callsign.

‘Fuck that. I’ll fly with Skua,’ Jimin says, instantly, vehement. ‘You can’t put Kokinchan in with that asshole.’

You’re looking at Jungkook, expression blank. It’s only the tenseness in your shoulders that gives any sign that any of this affects you.

‘I’m guessing you and Durumi are up front, and me and Skua and Baby G and Snoopy are wingmen?’

Jungkook says, ‘if you and Skua have a problem you need to let me know.’

He’s open to changing things around, hell, he’ll lie through his teeth if there’s any genuine risk from pairing you with Skua.

He’ll get you the hell out if you ask.

Instead you say, ‘there’s no problem, Hawk.’

‘That asshole —-‘ Jimin starts indignantly.

You put your hand on his arm. ‘Durumi, I can’t fly if I can’t work in a team with everyone,’ you say.

‘Swap me out with Baby G, he can fly lead and Snoopy and Skua can pair up. I’ll fly with Kokinchan,’ Jimin says to Jungkook.

You say, so lightly Jungkook’s almost fooled, ‘you’re too good to fly wing, Jimin. Also, come on, me and Skua have flown together before.’

Jimin argues, ‘before he tried to grab your ass? Before he tried to pull your top down? Before the hundredth time he cut your laces? Before he left that obscene picture of you on the billboard?’

Jungkook’s stunned. ‘It was Hyeok who did all that?’

You say, very firmly, ‘I can’t prove that he cut my laces or printed that picture.’

You put your hand on Jimin’s arm again. ‘Jimin, if I made a formal complaint, you know I’d be grounded whilst an investigation took place.’

Jungkook says, ‘you wouldn’t be grounded—‘

He breaks off at the look you give him.

‘He’s never done anything whilst we’ve been flying,’ you point out. ‘He wants to fly just as much as I do, as we all do.’

You’re pushing away from the dinner table, lifting your tray.

‘It’ll be fine, Hawk,’ you say. You put your hand on Jimin’s shoulder, and, reluctantly, he puts his hand over yours.

‘I’m gonna get some downtime before tomorrow,’ you say.

You’re walking away like there’s nothing left to say.

***

You’re almost late again, sliding in the seat next to Jungkook at the brief the next morning with barely thirty seconds to spare.

He glances at you.

Your hair is pulled back, the collar of your jumpsuit folded neatly.

You’re crisp, clean, and you give him a smile so detached he wants to shake you.

The brief is quick, it’s a route you’ve all flown before, and you’ve been training together for weeks now.

Jungkook’s getting changed into his g-suit when he realises you’re not in the locker room with the rest of the team.

He’s about to go looking for you, when you emerge from the single shower cubicle, fully suited up.

‘Thanks, Durumi,’ you say quietly.

Jimin’s been getting changed himself outside the cubicle door whilst you got changed inside, blocking any access to you.

Jimin replies, ‘no problem, Kokinchan. Laces all good?’

Jungkook looks at your feet and realises you’ve swapped out your regulation black laces for bright orange.

‘They’re great,’ you say, beaming at him. ‘Aren’t they, Hawk?’

‘You’ll be visible from space in those,’ teases Jungkook.

You’re looking around as you reach the runway.

Jungkook says, cautiously, ‘Skua got swapped out.’

You glance at him, surprised. ‘What happened?’

‘Baby G’s taking the lead on this one.’

You’re listening, waiting for him to continue.

‘I’m flying with you,’ Jungkook says.

You raise an eyebrow warily. ‘What’s behind this, Hawk?’

Jungkook says, ‘Colonel Park felt Baby G needed a push to step up.’

You’re not letting him off the hook that easily. ‘Did you suggest it to him?’

‘Yeah,’ Jungkook confesses. He says, carefully, ‘I spoke to Hyeok.’

You’re quiet, guarded. ‘What did he say?’

Jungkook’s got no desire to go over the comments Hyeok had made about you.

‘He didn’t help himself,’ Jungkook says, finally.

You’ve reached the F-18. You climb into the front seat.

From where he’s sat in the back Jungkook can’t see your face clearly.

You connect your helmet, turn on your mic.

‘I don’t know whether it’s worse to have someone be contemptuous of you or to feel sorry for you,’ you say.

Jungkook’s scrambling for something to say, but you’re not waiting for him to speak anyway, nodding to your tech.

You give the signal, the canopy comes down and then you’re going through your checks, flipping switches, checking your status with control.

Then you’re speeding down the runway, burning your way into the horizon.

***

Jungkook’s concentrating, focusing in on your target as you navigate the terrain.

You’re fast, confident, and Jungkook likes your style.

For making a drop though, your speed means his window for firing is limited if you’re to have any hope of hitting your target.

Neither of you can afford to mess up the timing.

Up ahead, Baby G and Durumi are blazing through, and Snoopy’s timed the first drop beautifully.

You descend smoothly, and Jungkook’s knows he’s timed it perfectly when the target implodes.

You’ve already got the throttle pulled back, hissing through your teeth at the g-forces holding you down, fighting through it.

Then you’re gliding, evening out.

You sigh shakily, and Jungkook, on autopilot, checks his peripherals.

There’s smoke.

‘Shit.’

‘What is it Hawk?’ you ask, instantly on guard.

Jungkook knows you’re a good pilot, but in this moment he sure as hell wishes he was in the driving seat.

‘It’s an MD45,’ he says, clear, calm.

You’re quiet a moment.

An MD45 is tech beyond your own military capabilities, a missile that’s reportedly impossible to evade.

Two of your own were taken out by an MD45 last month.

You say, ‘well shit.’

Jungkook’s thinking of your squadron in front of you and the terrain up ahead.

‘How do you feel about flying into the side of a mountain, Kokinchan?’

‘At this speed, our time to die is five seconds, if that, Commander,’ you say. To your credit, your voice is steady, neutral, as you process his words.

‘Have you ejected before?’ Jungkook asks.

‘I usually wait for a third date before I let a guy eject on me,’ you say.

Jungkook’s bark of laughter surprises you both.

‘I guess we’re going to second base. Don’t worry baby, I’ll make it good for you.’

He can see the craggy rock of the side of the mountain coming up fast.

It takes four seconds from pulling the ejection handle to being ejected.

The speed you’re going, it’ll be ten seconds to impact.

A time to die of ten seconds.

‘Canopy the fuck up, Hawk,’ you say, turning the plane.

He can see you reaching down between your legs, pulling up the ejection handle.

Four.

A beat of total stillness.

Three.

The canopy slides back, bringing with it a rush of wind.

Two.

Jungkook can’t hear anything but the pounding of his heart, can’t see anything but the back of your helmet, the way your shoulders are squared.

One.

Jungkook closes his eyes as he’s shot into the sky.

Below him, there’s the sense of tremendous impact as the F-15 flies straight into the mountain, followed by the MD45.

Jungkook’s chute unfolds, a ceiling of cream protecting him from the sky.

He wonders where you are.

***

When he opens his eyes, there’s a swirling blue sky above him, clouds floating across his field of view.

He’s on his back. He can move all his limbs.

Jungkook unclips his harness and rolls out of his landing gear.

He sits up, slowly, taking stock of his injuries. Apart from an almighty crick in his neck and grazes on both his knees, he’s unharmed.

Now he’s looking for you, squinting against the sun.

There’s a spill of cream a hundred feet away, so much parachute he can’t even see you.

He approaches, lifting the parachute, looking for you amidst the folds of fabric.

There’s a flash of neon orange laces, a booted foot, and Jungkook drops to his knees as he tugs the material off you.

Your arms are strapped in, a safety mechanism in your flight jacket. It looks like you landed on your back. You’re still out cold.

He touches your face.

‘Kokinchan.’

He can hear the panic in his voice. He doesn’t sound like himself.

Fair enough. He doesn’t feel like himself.

He’s checking you over for injuries when he hears your voice.

‘Fuck,’ you say, peeking down at him. ‘Thank fuck you swapped out with Skua.’

Jungkook’s leaning over you, close to your face.

Your smile makes him feel like he can breathe again.

Apparently you feel the same.

‘Hey, Hawk,’ you say, pulling him down to you. ‘Can we go to third base now?’

Jungkook’s lips are already pressed to your skin, next to your mouth.

You turn your head the slightest fraction, and your lips meet.

The adrenaline washes out of his veins, replaced by a sweet, singing pleasure as he kisses you.

Your hands grab fistfuls of his g-suit, tight, as you part your lips and take him in.

‘Fuck, Hawk, fuck,’ you murmur, breathless, warm, gasping as he leaves your lips to kiss around to your ear, down your neck.

Jungkook reaches for the zipper down your front only to realise you’ve beaten him to it.

He tries for his own zipper, realises you’ve beaten him to that too.

‘Let me help, Kokinchan,’ he says. He means it to sound teasing but it comes out urgent, breathy.

‘Don’t make me wait, Hawk,’ you reply.

Jungkook’s tugging down your undersuit, revealing pink lace, so pretty he wonders if the fall affected his vision.

He splays his hand over your panties, dizzy, elated, verging on drunken wonder.

‘Are you always this pretty?’ he wonders. ‘All this under that stupid flight suit?’

He’s rubbing his thumb over your cunt, and the way you whimper and roll up into his hand makes him realise how hard he’s getting.

You cup his face. ‘I need you, Hawk,’ you plead.

‘I’m here,’ he says, pulling his own suit down, pushing his undersuit down just enough.

Then he’s on top of you, pushing into you, trying not to come as you take all of him inside you and wrap your arms around him like you’re afraid he’ll leave.

Jungkook can’t think of anywhere else he’d rather be.

He can’t think.

So he moves, because if nothing else he knows how to do this, even when you’re stuck in the middle of nowhere and you’ve just crashed a fucking plane into a fucking mountain and almost fucking died in the process.

He knows how to do this, knows how to please you.

He moves, holds on long enough to hear you crying out his name as you come, holds on long enough to reach his own pleasure.

Then you’re sobbing, tears on his neck as he holds you, and then, fuck all this shit, Jungkook’s crying too.

***

Jungkook’s amused to know you tuck a credit card in one of your breast pockets whenever you fly, for the express purpose of if you ever got stranded anywhere.

He’s grateful when your credit card gets you a hire car.

He’s laughing when you discover he also carries his wallet and ID whenever he flies but didn’t bother to tell you, enjoying how goshdarned cute you were when you waved your credit card at him triumphantly.

Jungkook volunteers to drive, and you badger him until he stops at a gas station for snacks.

It’s not badgering, even though you seem to think it is. He likes it.

Now you’re in the passenger seat, reclined all the way back, looking up through the sunroof, singing along to digital radio, getting all the words wrong.

When he joins in you stop and stare at him.

‘What?’ he asks, self-conscious.

‘You have a pretty voice, Hawk,’ you tell him.

It’s not the first time he’s heard it, but he likes hearing it from you.

You put your hand on his arm, tracing along his skin.

You’re both stripped down to your regs, plain t-shirts and pants, your helmets and g-suits, your survival kits in the backseat.

You keep looking over at him, oohing and aahing over his tattoos.

Jungkook holds out as long as he can, but when the sun starts to set and you’re still looking at him like you can’t stop he pulls the car over and makes love to you in the backseat.

It’s all new still, a little awkward but Jungkook doesn’t care because he’s already decided he wants to learn all of you.

He wants to know you, to treasure you.

You’re sat up, holding on to his shoulders, bodies sated but still pressed against each other.

‘Hawk,’ you say, nudging under his chin with your nose.

Jungkook opens his eyes. ‘You’re insatiable, Kokinchan.’

‘It’s not that, you idiot,’ you say, although you’re giggling at him. ‘Can I drive?’

‘The last time you drove us, we flew into the side of a mountain and cost the government just over a mil,’ Jungkook points out.

‘You told me to!’ you say, indignant.

Jungkook kisses your sweaty cheek, twice because he wanted more after the first one.

You turn your head to kiss him full on the lips, slip him some tongue.

Jungkook reaches up to pull you closer, but you’re already pulling away, pulling up those lacy panties, covering up your pretty ass that Jungkook would look at until he went blind if you let him.

‘I want more,’ Jungkook tells you.

You pause with your hands on your pants button. ‘Me too, Hawk.’

‘I’m not –’

He waits until you look at him again.

‘I don’t just mean sex,’ Jungkook says.

You turn to face him. There’s a hesitant note in your voice.

‘I put in a transfer request yesterday,’ you say. Your eyes search his face. ‘I’ve requested a move to 489th, under Min Yoongi.’

Jungkook’s surprised. ‘Were you going to tell me?’

‘Right after the mission,’ you say, instantly, so convincing he doesn’t doubt your honesty.

‘It’s just easier,’ you continue. ‘I’ve worked with him before. There’s another woman in his squadron. There’s no Skua.’

Jungkook’s still looking at you.

‘I don’t have to worry about the man I’m dating being put in a difficult position.’

Jungkook’s so busy thinking about your words it takes him a while to realise what you’ve said.

‘I don’t just want to date you,’ he says, finally.

Your smile is so bright he kisses you again.

‘We should take it slow,’ you say, but there’s a mischievous sparkle in your eyes.

Jungkook asks, ‘When have you or I ever done that?’

‘There’s a first time for everything,’ you say.

Jungkook reaches out and grabs your hand as you’re climbing out to get into the driver’s seat.

‘We can go as slow as you want, Kokinchan.’

***

Jungkook hovers above the runway, having cut his speed to the point that he’s at a complete standstill in the air.

Like this, he can barely tell he’s flying.

A flick of a button and he’s into another vertical descent.

This time, it’s perfect. Even he can’t fault it.

He climbs out of the cockpit and steps down onto the runway tarmac.

He glances at his watch. He was meant to meet you for dinner tonight, he’s got enough time to pick you up some flowers before he meets you.

At first he thinks it’s a trick of the light, but when you start walking towards him he realises it really is you.

You’re so pretty in your dress, Jungkook stops in his tracks just to watch you.

You stop just in front of him, shorter than usual without your boots.

He has to lean down a little more to kiss you but he doesn’t mind.

You roll your eyes as he takes the opportunity to squeeze your ass under the pretense of lifting you up more to reach him.

‘Hawk,’ you chide.

‘Kokinchan,’ he teases, dragging out the syllables like you did with his callsign.

He keeps his arm around you as you walk towards the locker rooms together.

‘What do you want for dinner, Kokinchan?’

‘Can we have dessert first?’ you ask, feigning innocence, looking up at him through your lashes.

God, he loves the look of you.

‘Yeah,’ Jungkook agrees, readily. He leans down to kiss you again. ‘Anything you want.’

©hamsterclaw 2023

#jungkook x reader #jungkook fic #jungkook smut #bts smut

615 notes · View notes

m-yg93 · 2 years

Text

Rematch

Pairing: JJK x Reader

WC: 13k

Genre: Smut, PWP

Rating: M (minors dni)

Warnings: Toxic!JK, Mean!Reader, D/s dynamics, teasing, humiliation, praise, degredation, crying, spanking, semi exhibitionism?, oral (m. and f. receiving) butt plug, edging, anal play, face sitting, cuffs, restraints, piercings (nipple and genital), begging, unprotected sex, choking, creampie, pain play, overstimulation

Banner by @introgfx

Beta’d by @sunshinerainbowsbts

Summary: Jungkook’s only interaction with you lasted less than an hour but you’ve ingrained yourself in his mind since. You gave him a taste of a dynamic which he now desperately craves more of. If only you’d answer one of his DMs. Guess he’ll have to up his game.

Author’s Note: Okay so Have Mercy was supposed to be a One Shot. Then I decided to make a drabble and now I have 13k. I’m a CLOWN. 🤡 Thank you to my moots who let me ramble on about this brat and encouraged me to write. Special thanks to @audreonne for giving me her e-sports knowledge and letting me use her username as OC’s gamertag.

Jungkook is faced with the dark screen of his open Discord DMs with you. Your icon sits at the top of his recent chats but it’s absent from the conversation.

His own stares him down at every attempt he’s sent out. It had started simple enough, greetings and invites to join a game once in a while. He cringes when he sees his words shift to the more desperate tries at catching your attention. He’d even said please and he knows how that’s your favorite word. He knows you’ve seen them, your icon flashing green to indicate you’re online and his heart beating against his ribcage hoping that maybe this time you’ll deem him worthy of a response.

But it stays quiet, as always.

His phone chimes to notify him of new Twitch activity. Audreonne is live! His eyes scramble to the time in the bottom left of his screen. Shit, he’s going to be late.

He still manages to catch your introduction as he gets into chat. You had your stream schedule posted on your channel and he did what he could to jump onto Overwatch whenever he saw you playing, in hopes that he’d fall into a game with you again, but he’d had no luck so far.

He’d tried to catch your attention in chat once but a follower of his had also noticed his message and the chat had flooded with messages about him. He’d seen the scowl that settled on your brow when you noticed your chat devolving into chaos. He hadn’t spoken publicly since, but still did his best to watch all your streams, arguably impressed with your skills in not only Overwatch but in various other games you showcased on your channel.

He watches you get into the game, continuing with Skyrim this time as you were going through a Legendary run. In your first session, you had run straight to the Dark Brother to hunt down the weapon you were setting up your build around, Windshear, and made easy work of any enemies once your One-Handed and Light Armor skills were maxed out.

Your chat had heavily suggested (i.e. backseat piloting ) for you to go for an Illusion Assassin build but you’d adamantly refused. “I like seeing the kill shots where I dismantle their heads from their bodies.” If hearing that ended up making Jungkook chub up in his pants, that was nobody else’s business but his own, thank you.

You were chatting casually with your viewers, taking recommendations on which quest to do next and which side of the war to support. You’ve never acknowledged his presence in your chat but sometimes you’ve let something slip that makes him believe you absolutely know he’s watching.

“If you kill Paarthurnax you’re dead to me.” Your eyes move to look straight down the camera and his brain whirs to bring up the memories of the last time he was subject to that stare. “I always respect some good restraint.” The lopsided grin that accompanied the remark sent his hand straight around his cock, squeezing to try and keep himself under control. He may be trying to keep his boner at bay but he’s not so lucky with the whimper that slips through his closed lips.

Maybe you just don’t pay too much attention to Discord. You never stream with fellow gamers so you might not check it as often as he believes. Maybe you aren’t actually ignoring him. He opens a second screen and finds the whisper function.

A chat window opens up with your name at the top. He can’t possibly come on too strong with just a hello, right? He sees his message appear at the top of the chat.

GoldenJK: hey (:

His attention goes straight back to your stream. You’re in the middle of juggling Voslaarum and Naaslaarum on the frozen lake of the Forgotten Vale when he sees your eyes flicker to something catching your attention on the second screen he knows you have to monitor the stream while playing. It’s quick enough for the two dragons to make you fumble in your attacks and drain a good chunk of vitality from your character.

“Motherfucker,” you mumble under your breath, almost imperceptible to your viewers. You pause the game as a breath of fire is just about to hit your Redguard in the face. “Sorry guys, I just need to fix a setting here that’s bothering me.” It only takes a second before you’re back in the game and both dragons are disintegrating in a shower of light as you soak up their souls.

He goes back to the open conversation. Had you taken the time to answer him during that pause? There’s definitely something waiting for him in the chat, but not what he had hoped.

This user has turned on “Block Whispers from strangers” in their privacy settings and must start a conversation with you first.

Or maybe you are ignoring him.

Jungkook’s head falls onto his desk with a groan. He’ll have to think of something else in that case.

Fine, so getting your attention one on one won’t work but he can get your attention in a form you can’t ignore. It’ll just take some work but he’s committed.

It takes some research on his part to see what brings in big viewer counts to stream and he’ll need as many as possible for this plan. He ultimately decides on a charity stream. He gets to execute his strategy to pique your interest and he can help a cause he cares about. It’s the perfect plan and everybody wins!

He sets up to work with Tiltify so stream donations can be sent automatically to his favorite animal welfare charity that supports non-kill shelters in cities with high stray populations. He’s ambitious in setting the charity goal to 100k, but he figures that 1$ for every subscriber he has should be attainable.

He keeps a close eye on your stream schedule in case of any changes, even though you haven’t changed your streaming hours in years, as he finds out. He puts out the announcement on all his social medias to announce the stream start time while assuring that the 24 hours would end right in the middle of your scheduled Saturday session.

He’s all smiles and high energy when the day finally comes and his chat starts filling up with his regular crowd. He screens through the greeting messages, seeing a lot of comments saying they probably wouldn’t be able to stick around for the whole 24 hours but they are happy he is supporting a good cause and using his platform to bring awareness.

“No worries, guys! I totally don’t expect anyone else to suffer watching their screens for all this time like I am. Pop in and out whenever you want and see what’s going on. I have a rough schedule on my Twitter for times when each game will be played if you’re more interested in some rather than others. Make sure you come back right before it ends to see if we reach our goal! I got Bam from the local shelter in my city, and they were great at taking care of him and making sure I was set up to give him the best possible life, so I want to do what I can to give back in his honor.”

Perhaps he also needed as many of his viewers active in chat when the countdown ended as possible, but they didn’t need to know that.

“We’re going to start with Overwatch while I’m at my most focused. Alright, let’s get it!”

Jungkook tries to hold back a yawn as the last hour starts ticking down. His desk is covered in opened energy drink cans, making sure to thank his sponsor every time he cracks a new one open. Jin had dropped him off something to eat midway through the stream when his friend had realized the empty bag of chips scattered around Jungkook had been his only sustenance throughout the project. His viewers might have enjoyed his hyung’s loud scolding from the outskirts of the webcam a little too much, but he’s grateful for the food.

His viewers had been enormously generous throughout the stream, and his charity goal currently read $92,515.50/$100,000 in the banner above his head. It probably won’t reach the full 100k but that is still a massive amount of funds he can provide to the organization, and he’s thrilled either way.

He’d moved on to Stardew Valley, enjoying the quiet farm life to wind down the stream. It was hard to keep his eyes open at this point and he needed something that didn’t involve being on the lookout too much, but the soundtrack is softly lulling him to sleep.

“Concerned Ape really did amazing on this music. Might just add it to my sleep playlist with how effective it’s being right now,” he jokes with his chat.

He’s distracted by the countdown clock coming into its last 10 minutes and doesn’t notice chat frantically warning him that he’s about to miss Abigail’s birthday, only taking the time to check and read once he’s already safe in bed and the end of day money count from the shipping bin starts being displayed.

“Oh, no way! I totally forgot it was today. I had the amethyst in my inventory and everything. Man, my gamergirl wifey is just slipping through my fingers.” He throws his head back in a mock wail when the donation jingle brings him back. It’d likely be the last one of the night so it was a good time to countdown to the end of the stream with his viewers.

$10,000 donated by Anonymous

It takes a second for that to register before his mouth finally catches up to his brain.

“Holy fuck! Was that a typo? Did you hit too many 0’s? Send me a DM and I’ll figure out how to get that sorted for you, dude.”

He’s still freaking out as the countdown comes down to 0:00:00 signaling the end of the stream but he can’t enact the second phase of his plan without getting this settled first. Another jingle comes in.

$1,000 donated by Anonymous “No mistake. I like animals. Good job on reaching the goal.”

His chat goes wild as the message confirms the massive donation responsible for getting him to the milestone. He’s out of his chair and screaming, grabbing his Doberman by the front paws and dancing with him around the room. Bam doesn’t understand what the sudden fuss is about but he happily bounces along with his owner.

The viewer count is at the highest it’s been all stream, well over 50k as his final donation makes the rounds on social media which brings a ton of new viewers in to see the reaction.

“I can’t thank you enough, my guy. I’m so happy we hit the objective! These funds are going to save the lives of hundreds of animals in shelters across the country. I am truly speechless, wow.”

It takes a second for him to compose himself enough to close the games and enact the second part of his plan, the reason this all started in the first place.

“I’m going to do my last good deed of the day before I go knock out so if you guys can stick around just for a minute, I’d really appreciate it. We’re going to send all this awesome positive energy out to another streamer. Make sure you guys stay respectful in their chat, we’re keeping this supportive vibe across to the other stream, please. They’re a really talented player. They’re playing Mario Kart right now, but they are super well rounded and play every game style so there’s something in their channel for every one of you, I’m sure.”

This is it. He can see you’re streaming on your own channel, casually zooming past all other karts as you race down Rainbow Road. He can hear the telltale siren of an approaching blue shell about to blast you and he hopes his chat can make up for the hit. He clicks the button and they’re off as he signals his goodbye.

He watches you groan as the shell explodes over your head and stops your kart dead in its tracks when the message appears on your screen.

GoldenJK is now raiding with 54,488 viewers!

“Woah, what’s going on in chat? Give me a second.” You’re pausing the game mid race to catch up but there’s no way to read anything as the raid messages flood through the chatroom. “Oh, a raid. Hi guys! From GoldenJK? He just ended his charity stream, right? I popped in, that was cool. Too bad he can’t keep his schedule straight enough on Stardew. RIP,” you laugh.

You knew he was doing the stream? You had watched it. The plan worked! He’d definitely caught your attention and he sits watching his screen like a moron with the biggest smile plastered on his face for another 20 minutes before you end your stream, taking the chain and raiding another streamer you knew well.

A positive interaction, and a public one at that. His plan had worked flawlessly. He can go to bed happy. He’s about to shut down his PC when Discord rings with an incoming call. He thinks the exhaustion might have caught up to him but when your name is still being announced on his screen after he rubs furiously at his eyes, he’s quick to answer the call.

“You’re a really persistent little shit, aren’t you?” You don’t give him the opportunity to even greet you before you jump on him. He’d be upset if you weren’t so right. He did do all of this for the possibility of this moment after all.

“You weren’t answering my messages,” he reasons. He keeps his voice low and eyes wide knowing damn well he can pass off as sweet and innocent. To anyone else maybe, but you’re too hard to manipulate. Your own eyes squint at his words, an eyebrow raising in defiance at his claim.

“Blowing up my Discord, camping in my streams, distracting my chat. You’re lucky I’m so nice. You weren’t rude so I called off my mods from banning you since you had changed tactics and kept quiet after you realized that wasn’t going to work. You got real close when you started whispering in the middle of a boss battle though. Really testing your limits. All that, and you didn’t think it might mean I wasn’t interested in talking to you?” you counter back.

“I mean, yeah but-”

“No buts. I guess our last interaction wasn’t enough to teach you some manners, kid.”

Jungkook scowls at the insinuation. Not that he doesn’t have manners, he knows he acts out, but he always gets what he wants so why bother with politeness. “I’m not a kid.” He knows you know that, had first hand experience with just how grown he is.

“Stop acting like one and maybe I’ll stop treating you like one,” you shrug. You don’t leave him any chance to latch on, simply brushing him off at every turn. He’s never had to chase after someone the way he does you. It’s infuriating, and inexplicably sexy.

“Kept you interested enough to watch my streams though,” he challenges.

“Stream, singular. I keep track of charity streams. I suppose you could call me a philanthropist. You’re welcome for that, by the way. Couldn’t let the welfare organization suffer at the hands of your failure to meet the goal.” You’re so casual in the mention that it takes a second for your words to fully register.

“That was you? You just have eleven thousand dollars to throw around?” He can’t hide his shock. It’s no small amount of money to be dropping so easily.

Your actions are calculated as you pick at your nails nonchalantly, shoulders rising and dropping, unfazed. “Let’s just say I don’t struggle with my streaming income. Maybe you’ll get there one day with enough patience, skills, and sponsors. Plus, I got my cat from a shelter so you got lucky and hit my soft spot.”

“Bamie’s from a shelter! He’s a rescue too.” He’s jumping to remind you that you have things in common.

“Lots of people adopt from shelters.” Your eyes are rolling at his pitiful attempts but you’re here so you might as well find out what he was so adamant about. “What did you need my attention so bad for anyway?”

Truth be told, Jungkook didn’t think he’d get this far, fully expecting to be faced with a blank screen and more silence. Obviously he knew why he needed your attention so desperately but he also knew you’d immediately drop out of the call if he tried to hit on you.

“Uh,” He’s grasping for an idea, any words to create an excuse for his actions. “Training!” Genius . “Look, I’ll admit you’re a better Overwatch player than me and since you’re also a Widowmaker main you know how to play her really well. I was hoping you could teach me?”

Both your eyebrows shoot up to your hairline. “Huh. That’s true, but I never expected you to acknowledge it. You have a whole team. I’m sure one of them can handle Widowmaker and give you some tips. It’s probably best for it to come from them since they’ll be more helpful for what will work within your established team dynamics anyway.”

“They can’t!” he exclaims. “None of them really played around with Widowmaker since I was so insistent in playing her myself. None of them know her gameplay well enough. Plus, they wouldn’t push me like I know you would.”

He’s giving himself away with that last bit of information and you both know it. His mind races to the last time you pushed him and he nearly sneaks his hand down to his cock which is hardening at the memory.

“I suppose I can figure out a training plan to help you out since I’m so generous. Give me some time to set something up and I’ll send you an invite link to log into a private game to give you the rundown.”

“No!” he cries out. “I can’t learn online. I failed all my remote classes at school, can’t focus. We’re both in the same city, right?” As if he didn’t know the answer already. He’d been on your social media for weeks, he knew very well that you were in his city but had nearly zero chance of crossing his path. It was populated by a few million people after all. “Can you give me some in-person training?”

You purse your lips, trying not to let the smug grin escape with a chuckle. “You sure are asking a lot. I’ll make you a deal - you ask me politely and sincerely, and I’ll consider it.” You lean into the back of your chair, arms crossing over your chest.

Jungkook might be short circuiting a little bit. You didn’t say no. All he has to do is ask. He can handle that!

“Can you come over and train me?” He’s met with silence and a dead stare. Just enough to remind him that he’s missing the most important thing. “Please?” he adds.

He’s rewarded with a seemingly sweet smile that he knows hides a much more sinister story behind your pearly white teeth.

“Such a good boy when you know your manners. Send me your address. Be ready at 7 next Friday. Make sure you clean up. I don’t want to walk into that room with it smelling like a basement, covered in cum-stained tissues.”

He doesn’t have the chance to defend himself and let you know that he obsessively keeps his apartment neat and smelling fresh, thank you very much, before the call drops and he’s faced with a dark silent screen and a lap screaming for attention.

Jungkook might have overdone it on the cleaning to make sure his place was up to your standards. He had put on his alarm to wake up early and spent the day scrubbing at any surface he could reach. Would you see the top of his kitchen cabinets? Absolutely not. Did he make sure to grab his step stool and eliminate any speck of dust up there? Yes, he did.

By the time he’s done, his clothes are damp with sweat and his head is dizzy from the overpowering lemon scent of his products. He opens up all his windows and turns on the diffusers in every room. His friends often told him he was excessive in the amount of air purifiers he had in his two bedroom apartment. Sorry if he’s sensitive to smells and wants to be able to breathe properly. He’s rushing to jump in the shower when he finally finishes and notices the time. You’ll be here soon and he stinks.

He’s in a matching set of soft sweatpants and a hoodie, hands still furiously rubbing at his wet hair with a towel when the doorbell rings. His heart is in his throat knowing that you’re only a few feet away behind his front door. The doorbell rings a second time, breaking him out of the panic-induced freeze he’d been stuck in.

“Coming!” At least, he sure hoped he would be.

He’s steeling himself with one last deep breath before he throws the door open. He has his most charming smile plastered on his face and a warm welcome on the tip of his tongue. All of which immediately dries up and dies on his lips when he’s finally faced with seeing you in the flesh.

All your streams had you in comfortable clothes, soft fabrics and modest necklines but the woman on his doorstep is a vixen. His eyes are pulled down by a gravitational pull outside of his control. They pass through your hair hanging loosely around your face, pausing at the skin of your cleavage peeking through the low cut of your top, flesh straining against the right fabric across your chest. His gaze continues further down to the pleated skirt that ends dangerously high on your leg, letting a smooth expanse of skin catch his attention before it disappears into your thigh high socks. He’s hypnotized by the soft pudge that is created where the fabric of your sock digs into the meat of your leg. His mind is reeling and thoughts of bite bite bite are bouncing in his empty cranium.

“You’re drooling.” It’s a reflex to bring his hand up to his mouth to check if a little bit of saliva had ended up pooling at the edge of his open lips, but it comes away dry. Just the start of the teasing he knows he’ll be subjected to.

“I- uh, thighs.”

The loud laugh that echoes around him finally breaks him out of his hypnosis. “Yes, very astute. Are you going to let me go inside or are you intent on giving your neighbors a show?” His brows furrow at your words until he follows your eyes down to his groin where his dick had started to press against his sweatpants, forming an embarrassing tent.

His hands are quick to cover up, cheeks heating in humiliation. Why is it always so easy for you to get a reaction out of him? You haven’t done anything at all and here he is, boner out for anyone to see like some horny teenager.

“Sorry,” he apologizes, voice quiet enough for it to only be heard between you. He gets out of the way to open up the doorway for you to come in, then closes the door behind you, making sure to check that nobody in the neighborhood had been privy to this shameful moment.

“I swear I can control myself. I’m not some sort of animal.” It’s only once you’re fully in his living room, eyes drifting to every corner and taking in his space that he notices the black bag you brought along. “What’s in there?”

Your smirk is devious, inching slowly as your eyes darken. “Training materials, of course. You see, I figured out your issue. Your main flaw is your lack of focus and that’s because you’re not actually a gamer, you’re a streamer. You’ve programmed yourself to respond to distractions, like incoming subs and donations so you can reply and interact with your chat. It makes for a good influencer and entertainer, but breaks your skills for whatever game you’re playing.”

“So I have to practice staying focused and ignoring distractions?” he asks. You’re nodding in reply. “Okay, that makes sense. How are we going to do that?”

There’s an evil twinkle in your eye as you drop the bag to the floor, bending down to rip it open and dig your hand in to pull out your so-called ‘training materials’ into his view. His heart beats a little harder as each item is divulged.

He’s nervous, he thought he knew what he was getting into by getting you face to face but he should have known better than to think you wouldn’t continue to surprise him. His face goes pale when it dawns on him that the buttplug you pull out isn’t for you as you instruct him to turn around and bend over.

“What?” he asks, eyes wide. “I do the stuffing, not the other way around.”

Your shoulders shrug, unconcerned, as you make to pack up again. “Alright then. I thought you wanted my help, but I can just go if you’re not going to take my training regiment seriously.”

“No! I do! I’ll follow your lead.” A self-satisfied smirk is his only response.

Which is how he ends up bent over his couch, face digging into the cushion, back arched and presenting himself like a bitch in heat. He won’t lie to himself and deny that the warmth of your palm rubbing circles over the curve of his ass isn’t soothing and causing him to melt further into stuffing of the sofa.

He has almost forgotten the purpose for his position, head floating away into the feeling of your skin on his until the cold sticky feeling of lube dropping onto his hole wakes him from his daze, body stiffening.

“Shhhh, relax sweet boy, I got you,” you comfort from behind him. There’s gentle tight circles being drawn around his rim and he can’t tell if the shiver that courses through him is from the chill of the lube or your praises. A little bit of both, he supposes. You’re careful not to rush him, letting him release the tension before slowly but purposefully applying pressure into your touch until it breaches the tight ring of muscle.

“Ahh!” The noise that escapes him is uncontrolled. It doesn’t hurt and it’s not particularly pleasurable, just odd and unfamiliar. You give him time to accommodate the new intrusion before continuing to burrow until your finger is nestled deep and comfortable inside him. It’s a slow and teasing motion to thrust it out and back in again until it feels right to add in another, the stretch pulling more soft whines from his chest.

“You’re doing so good for me, darling. Just letting me use that tight little virgin hole, hmm?” Jungkook hasn’t been a virgin in years but the idea of allowing you to be the first to defile him in a way sends his brain buzzing. He can’t bring himself to reply with actual words, only incoherent noises falling from his lips as he lets you work.

You start to pry your fingers apart, letting them stretch him open until he encloses your fingers in a comfortable pressure but loose enough to enact the next part of your plan. “I’m making you feel good, aren’t I? Isn’t this nice?” you ask, voice slipping into a teasing tone.

All he can do is frantically nod at your insistence. It does feel nice. He is starting to think he’ll have to add some fingering into his masturbating routine if it helps make his mind drift off like this.

“Hold on to something,” is the only warning you give him before curling your fingers and giving a vicious push to tickle at a spot inside him that makes him scream.

“Oh God, FUCK-” His body is pulling away from your fingers, aching to run from the sensation that sends a jolt of electricity down his entire spine. Your free hand comes to grab at his hip and pull him back with a tsk.

“Don’t start acting up already. Grab at the couch if you need to but stay still.” His hands are reaching to grasp the meat of the cushion beneath him, teeth grinding down as you repeat the motion again, slower this time, trembles wracking through him followed by an obscene moan. “There we go. See? You just need to trust me to make you feel good, sweetling.”

You’re right of course, you always seem to be, helping him discover parts of himself he didn’t know existed. He revels in the feeling, legs turning shaky under your touch, abdomen tightening. He can nearly taste his impending release before you cruelly rip your fingers away, leaving him clenching around empty air and choking on a sob.

“Did you really think you’d be able to sneak an orgasm past me? I do everything possible to make you into an obedient pet and you just prove how much you’re a brat at every turn.” You finish with a sharp spank to his cheeks, redding the skin under your strike.

“No, please! I’m good, I can beg like you like, please!” There are tears threatening to fall from the corner of his eyes at his ruined release, the tension previously building now slowly ebbing away.

“Hmm, not good enough unfortunately. I’m not completely heartless, I won’t leave you empty.”

There’s another loud squirt piercing the air and then a splatter of lube lands on his hole, sinking past the muscle that winks at the loss. There’s enough that it drips down to cover his balls, tickling his skin when it continues to flow along the underside of his shaft. He feels a hard pressure behind him again, thicker than your fingers had been. The plug nestles heavy inside him, the girth pushing at his walls but not angled to hit the spot you had been so intent on abusing earlier. It’s a comforting pressure but not enough.

“What can I do so you’ll let me cum?” he pleads. Maybe he can bribe you into bringing him to completion. Your hand wraps around him and gives a single teasing stroke that nearly makes his knees give out from under him.

“Nuh-uh, time to train now.”

He nods reluctantly, that’s what he had said he wanted after all. You throw something at him. He catches it on instinct, feeling the soft material under his calloused fingertips.

“Put these on and prepare to go live.”

Jungkook’s unsure if the blood boiling under his skin is from the harsh lights of his set up, which makes sure his face cam is nicely illuminated, or if his body is still reacting to the earlier activities. You had instructed him to change the angle of his webcam, so it now focused straight at his face the same way yours did, rather than the previous angle which showed off most of his body, but you didn’t give him the excuse as to why. He knows better than to question you at this point, so he adjusts the angle and starts his livestream as you had instructed.

He’s setting up some solo maps, explaining to chat that he’s working on changing his technique so he doesn’t want to have to work with teammates online.

He’s squirming in his seat. The solid base of the plug is uncomfortable to sit on and his skin is brushing against the smooth fabric of the lacy panties you had thrown at him earlier. The lace trim scratches at his skin but the silk is soft against his cock, still half hard from the lack of release from earlier. He had thought about refusing to put on the garment but he can still remember the defying glint in your eye as the thought stayed quiet on his tongue.

His mind is drifting away from the game as a particular movement makes the plug brush against his prostate. He’s chasing after the feeling, trying to get it to hit the spot again when the chat catches his eye.

You good, JK?

You’re looking a little red, dude

Are you sick?

“Ah, n-no, it’s just a little hot in my apartment. I’m fine! Let’s try out these new tactics.” He’s stuttering through replying. Do they know? They can’t possibly know, it’s okay. He’s trying to distract them away from his blushing face because they’re right. He is sick. Just not with an illness, just a sick little pervert.

He’s trying to focus, really. He knows you’re out of frame, staring down his screen to monitor his actions, judging where he decides to grapple and hide to sneak attack his foes. There’s no reaction from you so he’s unsure whether his new attempts are up to your standards. He knows you wouldn’t make any noise and alert his chat of your presence, but how is he supposed to know he’s making any progress?

On the screen, Widowmaker cleans up her enemies, one kill after another, lulling him into a false sense of security. He didn’t expect the sudden thrum of low but steady vibrations to strike through him. Eyes widening and mouth falling open, his attention is diverted to where you’re hiding in a corner of the room, sitting on a chair, legs casually open, pose relaxed. It’s only now that he notices the little remote in your hand.

One of your eyebrows is raised as if to dare him to challenge you, so he’s quick to shut his mouth and bring his stare back to his screen. He wonders if his chat can see how tightly his molars are biting against each other at the back of his jaw and the way his ass grinds down into the cushion of his chair.

He should have figured it wouldn’t be that easy.

Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. Eyes in front of him. Fingers carefully poised on each button of his keyboard. He brings Widowmaker to look through the scope of her rifle as he aims to catch the head of an enemy bobbing between buildings far in front of him, and that’s when you strike your own attack, bringing the strength of the vibrations up several notches.

“Ack!” he exclaims, body jumping up in surprise. He’s biting on his lips to prevent any further sounds of escaping but his loss of focus brings his end as he hears the death announcement booming in his ears. The sensations stop immediately.

It takes a second for his heartbeat to slow to a reasonable pace, but it skips when he diverts his gaze to you. only to be met with a sinister smirk. His chat is alight with the sudden change in his vibe.

Is everything okay?

What happened, dude?

“It’s okay, everyone. I thought I saw something on the edge of the screen and got spooked,” he chuckles. It’s a lame excuse, of course. They all saw there was nothing happening on his screen to warrant the alarm but what else was he supposed to say? Sorry everyone, a devilish woman has me wrapped around her finger and her plug? He’d never admit that, even less so to his followers

“Back to it then. I think I’m getting somewhere.” The next game is set up and Jungkook jumps back into it, now more wary of the possibility of being attacked both in game and out of it.

You don’t move for a while. He gets so engrossed in the game and chatting with his viewers that he nearly forgets your presence in the room, like it’s just another stream as usual.

He’s joking with the chat about a certain move the NPC made that resulted in an easy kill when he senses something brush against his leg under the desk. He doesn’t think much of it, he owns a dog that requires a lot of attention. It’s not the first time Bam came and poked at him during a game.

Realization dawns on him quite quickly when he feels the hem of his sweatpants being tugged insistently downwards. There’s something, someone, under his desk that is adamant about getting him pantsless.

He pauses the game and excuses himself to chat. “Sorry, guys. Bam is under my desk and it’s a little distracting.” He’s backing up his chair to get a good view at what’s waiting for him under his desk. He was prepared to see you hiding under there but the view of you on your knees, tucked between his legs, eyes bright and smirk high on your lips still makes an aroused shudder go through him.

“Get out,” he demands but the look you give back reminds him that demands will get him nowhere. “Get out from under the desk, please? ” He’s trying his luck but he knows very well that his requests will fall on deaf ears. Focus you’re mouthing back at him. He tucks his chair back under his desk with a defeated groan.

“Looks like he’s a little stubborn today,” which earns him a tight pinch to his thigh, answering wince in reply. “I’ll just have to do my best to ignore him down there.” He knows that’s exactly what you want him to do, phase 2 of your evil training regiment he’s sure.

He does try, he swears, but he’d argue that any man with a pretty girl between their legs would struggle to play a damn videogame. He’s missing shots every time your hands stroke his skin a little too close to his groin, and he can’t imagine the scandalous sight you must be faced with as his cock fills out and strains against the flimsy fabric of the baby blue panties you put him in.

He’s trying not to think about the humiliation coursing through him at the thought of his viewers possibly catching a glimpse of what’s happening under his desk. His cheeks feel awfully warm. He pointedly refuses to check his camera for the proof and ignores the messages in chat that remark about it.

He thinks he’s not doing so terribly given the circumstances. Not until he feels the warm and wet sensation of your tongue laving against the silk that’s trapping his cock against his stomach. The panties are assuredly ruined between the wet patch where he leaks precum matching where your mouth suckles at the head of his cock through the fabric. It’s impossible to stop the groan that flies out of his mouth.

“Ah, missed an easy shot there, my bad.”

Your touch ignites fire beneath his skin and he’s sure his blush is flaming across every inch of his body. Your fingers are so soft where they taunt up the tight planes of his abdomen under his shirt, out of sight from the viewers. They crawl back downwards, catching the hem of the undergarments. There’s wicked snaps where you grab the elastic only to let it go where it hits back against his skin.

“Shit, off. Take it off.” Thankfully for him, his request passes off as D.Va launches her mech at his character and he manages to avoid the armor hurling into him. He takes the opportunity to strike her down while her defense is low.

There’s an audible sigh of relief when he finally feels the panties being slowly slipped out from under his ass and down the expanse of his legs to join his sweatpants pooling at his feet. He can feel how hard his cock is, holding shape straight up towards the underside of his desk, desperate for a touch.

You grant it nearly immediately, wrapping your hand loosely around his dick. He wishes he could see how your fingers look around his shaft. Would your hand look small in comparison? Would it engulf his length and shame him? He’s not sure which he’d rather more.

Just as you let your tongue drag from the bottom of his shaft up to the crown, circling the head and slipping it just past your lips he gets shot by an enemy which is lucky as the soft “fuck,” he releases blends easily into the situation. His brow is furrowed as he tries to stay alive both in game and under your touch. Had he gotten the full visual he’s sure he would have ascended to heaven right then and there.

You don’t have compassion for him for too long, though. You’re quick to deliver a powerful suck as you lap your tongue across the slit, hand tightening and stroking downward all at once. His fingers are digging into his keys, letting attacks fire off unwillingly.

He’s lost the power to be able to win at this rate but as long as he can stay in the game, your own game stays in play as well. His teeth grind down and the grip on his mouse cramps his hand.

Under the desk you’ve fallen into a tortuous rhythm. Hand stroking tightly, up and down, up and down. Your mouth follows close behind it, pulling a strong suck every time the flow reaches back up towards the head. Your spare hand has sneaked its way to his balls, softly palming them with the occasional tug. At one point the heat of your mouth leaves him and he thinks he’s finally been giving respite until he feels the wet muscle of your tongue licking wicked laps at his balls. He thinks it can’t possibly get worse for him but you open wide and sweep up both of his balls into your mouth all while your hand continues its cruel motion over his cock, adding a twist under the crown, little zaps of pleasure hitting him every time your fingers press against the 4 barbells on the underside of his cock. He’s about to fall apart just as you retreat entirely.

His breathing is heavy and he knows it’s obvious. There’s no point looking at chat now, they’re all calling him out for his odd behavior today. He’s using the benevolent pause you’ve given him to strike down a few enemies and catch up where his poor performance left him behind. He’s almost done the round, he can finish this.

The low rumble is back, sending jolts up through his spine. You’re not done with him yet and he’s on the edge of his seat awaiting your next move. Figuratively and literally, his ass had inched its way nearly off the chair as he chased after the warmth of your mouth. Along with the vibrations comes the sting of your nails digging into the meat of his thigh. They’re crawling upwards towards his dick, which is painfully hard and leaking.

There’s clear technique behind how confidently you spear his length entirely down your throat, massaging your tongue against his piercings. His whole body shivers and grows rigid under you. He can feel the muscles at the back of your throat contracting against him, fighting the intrusion but you hold strong. He’s doing his best to fight against the sensation too, waiting to see which one of you two will buckle first. But you have the advantage.

The vibrations increase again and he loses his nerve. His head bows towards the desk as a loud wail tears its way from his chest. He can feel the hard thunk of his forehead meeting the wood and his hands abandon their spot at the keys to slink under the desk and find home in your hair, fingers grasping at the strands.

You pull back before he has the chance to let go, another orgasm ripped from under him. His eyes come back to the screen and his chat is going wild at the sudden outburst.

“You know what? I think you guys are right. I’m not feeling too great. I’m going to end it here for tonight. I’ll be back to my regular schedule tomorrow. Thanks for being Golden!” He quickly tries to get to the end of his tagline before he turns off his programs to end the stream.

Once he’s sure he’s no longer live, he throws himself into the back of his chair, sending it rolling away from the desk to look at you. Your hair is messy from his tugging and your lips are red and plump, drool falling on his lap and dripping to the floor. You’ve never looked more beautiful and the urge to kiss you has never been stronger.

“Let me come? Please? I’ll beg, whatever you want. Just please let me come.” He’s already begging but whatever you need to hear, he’ll say.

“Why would I? You stopped training without permission. You never learn,” you rebuke.

“I had to! Did you want me to come in front of all my viewers, huh? I can’t ruin my reputation, this is my career as much as it is yours,” he defends himself.

“Of course not, bun.” Your frame raises from the floor, hands tracing his thighs, up the side of his ribcage, your body bent over his own. One of your hands settles on his cheek, palm curved around his jaw in an uncharacteristic act of comfort, until your fingers dig in a firm grasp to keep him still, his eyes boring into yours. “You’re not allowed to come until I say so. You wouldn’t have come in front of them because you know better, don’t you?”

He struggles to nod in agreement through your grip, he does know better by now. You’re wrong, he does learn but he’s still not ready to be entirely wrong himself. “Anyone would have crumbled in my place too. Nobody can play that well with a mouth on them like that. I bet you couldn’t either!”

He knows very well that he’s provoked something in you with that wager. “You think I’m weak enough to fall apart because of a little bit of oral? You want to try and prove me wrong, do you? You think you’re good enough with your tongue to make me fail?” There’s arrogance in your voice and he knows it’s far from misplaced, but he’s made his bed and the only option now is to lie in it.

“I do.”

There’s an audible gulp coming from his throat when he sees one of your eyebrows quirk up. He’d spent enough time watching your streams and studying your gameplay to have picked up that the tic always precedes you doubling down on whichever enemy, NPC or not, that’s managed to piss you off. You raise to your full height, now towering over his body in the chair.

“Kneel.”

The command is simple and direct. Easy to follow as he slides out of his seat, knees hitting the ground. Your hands inch the hem of your skirt up towards your waist, just enough to slip your thumbs into the waistband and ease your underwear down your legs to let them pool at your feet. Jungkook’s eyes follow the fabric down, brain registering that they look strikingly familiar to the pair he was previously wearing himself. You hadn’t just brought a pair of panties to put on him, you’d brought a pair of your panties and let them rub against him, now stained with the precum he had leaked throughout your earlier teasing. Would you throw them out now or would you keep them? Physical proof of him putting his brand on you just as you’ve branded him in a way with the control you so easily exert over him.

In his fog, he hasn’t noticed how you’ve turned around to click away on the keyboard, bent over the desk, ass now presented straight in his face. Your pussy peeks from under the curve where your ass meets the top of your thighs. There’s a glimmer of a shine proving that you weren’t totally unaffected by your actions on him. A part of you is still human, no matter how much restraint you’re able to display.

There’s a deep need in his fingertips urging him to reach out, spread your cheeks apart to get the view he’s craving. He’s aching, from his cock through his entire being, to see the gem he’s been fantasizing about for all these weeks. His fingers twitch at the thought but you turn around just in time to stop him from bringing his hands forward onto your legs.

His eyes trail back up where your skirt now provides modesty. Modesty which he now knows is but a facade, part of the act. You’re not as innocent as you make yourself appear to your viewers. They’ve been fooled, just as he had during that first game when you two interacted. His gaze falls on the screen. where he can see you’ve now logged into your own account and set up an online game. A slight confusion crosses his mind but the view of his earphones set on your head, microphone adjusted in front of your mouth clears it up. You’re planning on being on voice chat through all of this to prove your point.

You slip past him, back towards your infernal bag of tricks. Jungkook doesn’t see what you’ve come back with since you stop behind him. Your knees are bracing his thighs from the outside as you kneel at his back. He’s sitting on his heels, taking the lower position, head leaning onto your chest. His eyes are nearly turning to the back of their sockets. They’re looking for you, for a clue of what comes next.

Your hands are flat on his thighs, soft against the hard muscle but nails sharp where they stab into his skin. You never let him forget that you are the embodiment of duality. They tease as they crawl up his lap to his hips, avoiding where his dick lays hard and useless between his legs. He can see that your eyes are trained on it. You’re focused on watching it twitch, unable to calm enough to rest comfortably as it seeks any sort of stimulation. There’s a long string of precum that clings to the head, leaking down his shaft and pooling on his balls.

“Please,” he asks. Jungkook doesn’t know what else he could ask for at this point. He has no control of the situation. The best he can do is plead and hope you are sympathetic.

“Oh, baby. It’s not about you anymore now. You wanted to prove yourself so you’ll have to do better than that.” His despair can be tasted in the air around him. Your hands swoop past his cock without a single brush of a fingertip. They take hold of the hem of his sweater and drag the fabric upwards tantalizingly slowly against the skin of his abdomen. “Hands up, darling.” With that his sweater is thrown into an unknown corner of the room and he’s left fully naked on the floor of his gaming room.

Did he ever expect to be on his knees where he works, under the dominance of a woman at that? No. Can he say he’s mad at it though? Also no. The anticipation sends a shiver running down his spine. Your hands settle on his shoulders and run down his arms.

“Your tattoos are pretty.” There’s that word again. You’d used it a lot that first time. Calling his tits pretty, his nipples, his cock . He never thought he’d like to be called something so feminine but all he wants now is for you to shower him with compliments, so if pretty is your word of choice he’ll gladly take it.

Your hands are wrapped around each of his wrists, your fingers struggling to close around them. He doesn’t fight against the pressure of your hold, simply letting you bring them behind him to settle at his back. There’s a thick material wrapping around each of them, closing tightly against his skin. A tinkle of metal as clasps are buckled. A light aroma of leather in the air. Your hands are back at his front, swimming through each bump of his abs and onto the bottom of his pecs, settling to tease between each of his most erogenous zones without giving either of them the attention he craves so desperately.

With an experimental tug Jungkook confirms his suspicions that his wrists are now bound. Your hair tickles at his neck. Your lips are close enough to nibble at the shell of his ear when you whisper, “If you’re so confident in your skills you’ll only need your mouth, right?”

Honestly, that’s somewhat unfair. You’ve been using your hands on top of your mouth to torture him. But he won’t admit to the disadvantage. “Try me,” he challenges.

“One last thing.” Your fingers make a beeline towards his nipples, twisting the pierced buds. His back flies into an arch, scream high on his lips as he chases after the stimulation he’s been looking for. “That little show last time wasn’t an exaggeration, huh. You really are as sensitive as you seemed. Let’s see if you’re as much of a little painslut as you made me believe.”

The tinkling of metal is back again. There are two chains in your hands, each with a clamp on one end and a ring on the other. “You even changed your barbells to little rings. Did you hope I’d use something to pull on them? Were you expecting all this? Am I predictable after all?”

Honestly, he just liked changing out the jewelry periodically. He liked how putting in a new piece would burn just a little and make the buds stiff as he pushed the metal through the opening in his skin. Was he hoping that you’d play with them? Of course. He knew that you were so focused on them when he played with them himself the last time that you wouldn’t be able to resist getting your own hands involved. Were you predictable though? Absolutely not. Every time he thinks he has something figured out, you flip the script and send him scrambling. Truthfully, he likes it better this way.

He doesn’t audibly answer any of your questions. He knows they’re mostly rhetorical. You don’t want replies, you just like getting in his head, each slip of your tongue sending his mind spinning. Besides, the soft whimpers and moans escaping him are all you’re truly after.

He can feel the weight of the clamp as you clip them onto the rings that pierce through each nipple. It’s not the direct sting he was looking for but there’s a pleasant weight that tugs them down. The experimental yank you give to each nipple makes his chest reverberate with a deep groan. He can see each of the pebbled nubs get pulled to tear away from his chest, straight outwards as you test the force that you can exert. He won’t give up so easily though, only pleasurable little noises escaping him.

You seem satisfied enough since you let go of the tension of the chains, slipping both the rings onto your middle finger. You take a seat on his chair, not the casual sprawl that he’s used to seeing you in but knees bent under you to leave an empty space directly between yourself and the seat.

You pat the empty spot with your palm. “Come,” you command, as if calling an untrained puppy to its spot at your heel. Jungkook figures this situation isn’t that far off. It’s a little harder than he expected to crawl to the space between your legs with his hands behind his back, knees dragging along the wooden floor.

“Good, turn around.” His brow furrows at the order but doesn’t question it. He turns his back to the chair, eyes facing towards the desk, or more so under it from his new low angle. Your fingers rake through his hair, nails scraping deliciously into scalp. He almost lets himself fall into the feeling before you’re pulling at it roughly. You’re dragging him backwards. He expects to fall onto his back but his nape hits the end of the chair, head falling onto the cushion.

He’s staring straight up at your face. Your body is hunched over him to manhandle him into position. It feels precarious, wheels threatening to roll away and send him hurtling backwards. His back is arched uncomfortably but not in a way that can’t be upheld with a little effort.

Once you seem pleased with his placement, your focus is back on the computer, setting up the lobby. He can’t quite see the screen from this angle but he knows the game starts since you’ve devoted all your attention to what’s in front of you, completely ignoring that he’s just under you, waiting for what comes next.

His questions are answered soon enough when your hand flies across the mouse pad to aim your gun at an opponent, which takes the ends of the chains with it, resulting in a sharp tug emanating from his chest. A loud moan follows and he knows his microphone would have picked that up.

“None of your business, focus on taking care of Doomfist and less about what’s going on in my room, huh?” Your teammate must have heard the outburst. Well, at least it was nice to know your snark at him during that first game was simply your default setting.

You must have silenced your mic for a moment because the next thing you say is, “We’re going to have to shut you up, huh?” and he figures that’s not directed to the people on the other side of the call. You’re not waiting for an answer, probably didn’t want one at all but the whine and quick little nods from him just makes you look more satisfied.

Darkness envelops his vision from your skirt lowering itself around his head but there’s no time to regain his bearings. Dropping yourself onto his face finally gives him his first chance at a touch of you. His hands may be unable to reach out like he’d want but his head lifts to meet you halfway, tongue out and searching.

He lets you settle fully onto your makeshift seat. He’s relishing in your musky scent. He had imagined how you might smell. Your skin gives off a faint aroma of vanilla which he’s sure comes from a lotion that you must have applied before your meeting, but it’s overpowered by the natural smell of arousal. He can feel the stickiness where it rubs against his cheek and across his nose.

The pace of him basking in your offering must be too slow for you because he hardly has time to enjoy it when another harsh pull of the chain causes a warm puff of air to flow from his mouth and catch against you. You’ve definitely noticed as the pulse of your core can be felt against his wandering lips. Turns out it’s a lot harder to be skilled when you can’t see where to focus your efforts.

His tongue acts as his eyes, licking up into warm flesh and looking for your trigger. He’s drunk on your taste, heavy on his lips. Jungkook is self aware enough to know he’s probably eaten more pussy than most and he enjoys it every time but none could compare to you right now. Do you actually taste better than any woman he’s had the chance to have squirming under him or do you simply have him bewitched? He suppose he’ll never truly know, only savoring what he’s given.

He can still hear you mumbling out commands at your teammates, orders on where to be placed, who to kill. You haven’t given any indication that he’s distracting you at all. He pushes the tip of his tongue into you where it’s the most warm and wet and traces it up the slit up to where he knows is the little button to make you break. He knows he’s landed on your clit when you give a subtle grind into his mouth.

Lips nibble around your nub, tongue laving tight little circles over it. Your hips are moving across his face. He’s barely doing any of the work as you use him to chase your own pleasure. He awaits to hear your own little cries to betray what’s going on at your end of the call but they never come. And neither do you. He’s putting in effort, pulling all his best tricks that would have any other woman begging for reprieve but you’re largely silent, the only words coming out of you barks at your comrades whenever a play fails.

He’s giving a long suck at your clit when he’s surprised with a new, more sadistic pull of the chain. It sends a scream from his throat into your own body, letting it vibrate through your core. He continues letting out sweet little moans to add to the stimulation and thinks this, this’ll do it.

The brightness of the room is shocking when you raise yourself off his face. The broken sob heard isn’t from the pain that pierces through his eyes at the light but the loss of you. His head is chasing after your taste, tongue still out and reaching. His face is wet, lips from the arousal that has spread and eyes from the frustrated unshed tears that have started to threaten to spill.

“Guess you’re not as good as you thought after all.” You’re taunting him but he’s weak and bites at the bait.

“I didn’t get enough time. Plus you’ve restricted me way more than you had been, it’s unfair!”

Light peals of laughter fill his ears. You’re mocking him and he’s reminded of the ache in his groin, still hard and so far from release. “Oh sweetie, I played four whole rounds. You had plenty of time. Plus, you needed air at some point.”

Jungkook wants to argue that he didn’t need air, he needed you . Just needs you to sit back down and smother him. If he’s going to die, drowning in pussy sounds like a fabulous way to go.

“It’s not my fault you just aren’t up to the challenge. I hope you learned something about focus through this though. You’ll need it. I’m giving you another chance because I am benevolent.”

He should be concentrating on the little things he could have picked up on through this torture, but all that’s ringing in his head is that another chance just means he gets to have your hands on him again. His dick twitches at the thought.

You unshackle his wrist and take off the clamps from the rings. Both areas ache with a delightful pressure, a mild buzzing going through him. You force him to log back into his own account because “I’m not going to let you ruin my stats.”

He’s back to sitting on his chair, body heavy into the back rest, chest rising and falling in hard pants. The air feels thicker in the room and it’s tinged with the smell of the sex he hasn’t gotten to fully experience. You’re flitting around the room behind him as he sets up his custom lobby again. Once he’s done he turns to see what you’ve been up to, finding that you’ve dragged the floor length mirror that’s usually in his room to lean across the wall behind his chair. Questions arise, but he doesn’t let any of them form into words.

You tug on his chair to put enough space between him and the desk to sneak through. You’re at the perfect height for him to stare right down your cleavage, urging the buttons that keep your blouse closed to pop open. He could use a blessing right about now.

It might not be what he was aiming for, but the universe does reward him by having you climb into his lap, knees on either side of his hips. You hook your chin over his shoulder, chest crushed against his own. You’re soft against him and he seeks more of your delicate skin. His hands gravitate to your ass, palms taking a wide handful of flesh itching to push it down to his lap.

“You’re not going to win anything if your hands aren’t on the keyboard, brat.” There’s a hand sneaking between the both of you to twist cruelly at his nipple. His hips raise in response to the stimulation, but you’re pulling up and away before he can make contact. His hands are flying off you before you can exert another punishment. It’s torture to bring each of his arms around you and not grab onto anything he can reach. He can’t blame his poor view on why it takes him so long to ready up. He can see the screen clearly over your body, but you’re warm against him and all his cells are screaming touch touch touch.

The game starts and he’s methodical, thinking of each move before he does it. He is seeing some improvement already, reaching areas at a better pace and firing off more accurate headshots than he used to. There are little movements in his peripheral that catch his eye. Your head moves against his shoulder and he feels it. Right there, on his neck, is a little peppering of kisses. Gentle across his skin, hot and wet as you let your tongue lick behind every brush of your lips.

Jungkook’s teeth grind against each other but a soft whine slips around a hum. His head is tilting, bringing the view of his screen off balance, but it’s worth it for the feeling of your teeth nibbling at him in the new space he’s created. He can feel where they dig into the muscle followed by a soft suck that he knows will leave a mark. He hopes you litter the entirety of his neck in deep purple hickeys that he won’t be able to hide, or perhaps show off, during his next stream. He wants you to mark your territory, sending a message to the next woman to hit on him.

He falters and his character gets hit, but he’s able to dodge the next shot and get out of range. He can grab the health pack he sees not far from his hiding place and it’s like nothing ever happened. You’re just getting started though. Your hips join your plan. They rotate in hellish little circles. His cock is trapped between his abdomen and the fabric of your skirt. He’s leaking but it’s not enough to counter the roughness of the cotton against his skin, all too sensitive now.

You must take pity on the pained little whimpers he’s letting out each time you swing forward and rub against him because he can feel your skirt being inched up around your waist, now leaving him free to feel the soft wet skin on the underside of his dick. The pace at which you move is excruciating. You take your time angling your hips forward and dragging them up. He swears he can feel your clit pass over each of the four barbells that decorate just under his head. You let the tip push right over your slit, giving him just a second of bliss where he can practically imagine slipping in. You bring yourself back down and repeat the motion in an agonizing rhythm.

He can barely make sense of what’s going on in the game but you’re quick to remind him. “Approach from the north, grapple to the roof.” He understands the purpose of the mirror now. You’re watching him play. You can see every move he makes, judging his skills and when to strike with your own.

He manages to tune out the delicious strokes you torment him with for another few minutes. He’s finally gotten into a groove. He’s focused . At least he is until you wait for him to be looking through the scope of his gun, ready to fire an impressive shot from halfway across the map. You’re at the tip of your rotation, the head of his cock enveloped between your folds. He’s got the enemy Sombra in his crosshairs when you sink straight down to the base of his cock, ass fully settled onto his lap.

If he’s honest Jungkook doesn’t know what kind of noise he lets out. His mind goes blank, vision dark as his eyes clamp close. There’s static in his ears, and the universe falls apart at the seams. All he knows is nothing in the world could feel as good as you do in this moment. His throat feels hoarse at whatever sound was ripped from his chest. He’s panting, breaths coming heavy and quick. His hands have abandoned the keyboard and mouse, now finding their way to grip at your hips, holding you down in fear that you’ll rip yourself away again.

“Aren’t you going to respawn?” Your voice pulls him from his daze. His eyes find the screen where his character has gotten killed. His hands are shaking as they reach for the keys again, hesitant to leave their perch, but you don’t seem to be going anywhere this time around. In fact, you’re painfully still. Not a single wiggle to heighten the stimulation. He’s unsure if cockwarming at this point feels like heaven or hell but he’ll take whatever he’s given.

He’s careful moving his Widowmaker across the map, skillfully dodging the attacks that come his way with his grappling hook, getting out of the way to take shots from above. There’s a tension in his gut. There’s a knot of stress settling in his throat as he takes aim at each opponent that crosses his path.

He’s so close to victory. Everything feels tight. Tighter? It dawns on him that you’re clenching. Your walls are pulsing around his dick in a manic rhythm, intent on making him lose both the game and his mind all at once. There’s sweat beading at his forehead from the effort it takes not to thrust up into you. His eyes are closing in a wince, the screen is getting blurry.

DEFEAT

A loud groan rips itself from deep within his chest. He can’t do this anymore. You win, okay?! He can’t fight against your special kind of torture.

“I give up! I can’t, please. Fuck! Please, let me come.”

“Tsk, you were so close.” He knows, trust him, he’s been close this whole time. “I guess I can give you a reward for jumping through the obstacles but you have to ask for it properly. Go on, ask for what you want nicely.” He’s been begging all evening, sweet little pleas falling from his lips at every moment. What more could you want from him? He thinks about your history together and it falls into place.

“Mercy. Have Mercy , please.”

“Good boy,” you acquiesce. You finally start moving, pumping yourself up and down at a maddeningly slow pace.

“More, need more- Faster, I’m begging!” There’s no thought behind his words, all imploring whines and requests of benevolence which you grant.

Your spine straightens up to stand tall on top of him, continuing backwards with a hand behind you on his knee to hold your weight. The other gripping at his shoulder for leverage. Your tits hypnotize him, moving in spellbinding circles right in his face from the force at which you bounce on his lap.

Your new angle allows him to reach between you to grab handfuls of your breasts. He’s itching to get at you through your clothes. He’s not sure if he’s unclasped the buttons or simply ripped them off your blouse but it’s out of the way and that’s all that matters. His hands glide up to your shoulders to slip the straps of your bra down to the crook of your arms, bringing the padding down with them to reveal his prize.

Your nipples are stiff peaks as they come into contact with the air conditioned room. Tattooed fingers come to wrap around them, squeezing and pulling. He hears your breath hitch and it registers that this is the first pleasurable noise he’s heard from you. It’s barely audible but there’s a moan coming out of your mouth, a moan that’s Jungkook’s doing. The thought sends a wave of heat through his body and he decides that his only mission now is to pull out more of them.

His head dips forward and takes one nipple between his lips. He’s gentle in his licks and suckles but the soft sighs you let out aren’t fulfilling his desires to have you fall apart. He slips the tip of it between his teeth and bites down with a gradual pressure until he can feel moan vibrate through your whole chest. Of course, if you can deal out the pain you’re sure to be able to handle it when it’s twisted back at you.

He’s rougher with his grip now, sure to leave deep imprints where his fingers poke into your skin, teeth leaving marks as he switches from one breast to the other, making sure to even out his attention. Just when he thinks he’s finally on the same playing field, you make sure to remind him that you’re in completely different leagues.

He’d forgotten all about the evil little remote that you had in your hand earlier but it must have made its way back into your hold because the vibrations are back, strong and insistent. He’s sure there’ll be bruises left where the pads of his fingers dig into you. Eyes closed, eyebrows furrowed, head leaving your chest to be thrown backwards, a scream piercing through him.

“Gonna come! Oh god, please. I can’t hold it anymore. Have to come, please-” His words are slurring together, nonsensical in his begging. The hand that was holding onto his shoulder drags across to settle at the base of his throat. Your fingers mirror his strength and squeeze at each side, effectively cutting off his moan and his air supply. The fear that everything stops again is forgotten when he feels his world shatter. His balls tighten and the knot in his abdomen breaks when his orgasm finally hits. He can feel himself pulsing inside you, painting your walls.

The pulsing doesn’t end even after he’s emptied himself out. He can feel how tightly he’s wrapped around the plug which is still buzzing away relentlessly inside him. Mixed with the fact you haven’t faltered in your tempo, cruel as you continue the quick up and down on his oversensitive cock.

“Oh fuck- Stop. Ah! Hurts!” He’s trying to slow you down, hands on your hips but you’re stronger than you look and his muscles are slack, still recovering from his climax.

“Stop? Silly little baby. I haven’t come yet, why would I stop? You’ll be good and make me come, right? I’ll turn it off once you do.” He’s glad your legs haven’t grown tired because he couldn’t match your cadence if he tried. His hips are twitching up at random, little jolts piercing through him.

He regains control of his hands, bringing one down to where your bodies meet. He can see the creamy white evidence of his release slipping out to smear down his cock, leaking onto his balls every time you bring yourself up only to thrust back down harshly. The sweet melody of skin slapping against each other is mixed with lewd wet sounds when your ass meets his thighs at every smack.

He files away the view of his tattoos covered in the shine of your mixed juices for later. He hopes he remembers every detail of how you look on top of him, hair mussed, mouth opened, little noises flowing out of your saccharine lips. His thumb finds your clit and he focuses on keeping the pattern of tight little circles around the nub. Constant repetition is the key.

He’s silently urging you to reach your peak. There’s little tears stinging at the corner of his eyes, the oversensitivity really settling itself into every cell of his body. He’d usually order his partner to come for him, calling their orgasm to spill over but he’s terrified that it’d be misconstrued as an order and you’d hold off simply out of spite.

He’s just about to start openly sobbing when he feels you tense up. Your legs have a slight shake to them and he assumes he’s being sent to an early grave with the pressure with which you’re choking his cock. He swears he comes again, weak spurts somehow being squeezed out of him.

The vibrations stop as suddenly as they started and his body goes slack. He almost misses catching your back when your own grows weak over him. He guides you back onto his chest, letting you lean into him for both of you to catch your breaths.

You’re first to recover, bringing your head up to face him, your hands coming to cradle under his jaw. Your eyes burn into his, the moment heavy. His voice croaks as he breaks the silence.

“Was I good?” His voice sounds small, insecure and scared. Everyone knows him as a confident man, full of bravado and a reckless love for danger but you manage to turn everything he thinks he knows about himself on a dime.

It’s the first time he sees a genuine smile grace your face without any of the, admittedly sexy, malice that it’s usually stained with. You’re soft against his lips. Your touch is cautious, letting him melt into the kiss. It’s tinged with an aftertaste of care.

“Yes, sweet prince, you were good. You do need more practice though.”

_______________

Masterlist || Have Mercy (on me)

#ficscafe #jeon jungkook #jungkook #jk #jungkook x reader #jk x reader #jungkook smut #jk smut #bts smut #jungkook fic #jk fic #jungkook fanfic #jk fanfic #sub!jk #sub jk #jungkook x you #jk x you #sub jungkook #sub!jungkook

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sweetcarrotsandroses97 · 2 months

Text

~ The Meeting Of Minds | pilot | JJK

Pairing: doctor! Jungkook x doctor! fem! Reader

Summary: You start working at Hanyang University Teaching Hospital as the new member of the diagnostician team under the watchful eyes of the arrogant Doctor Jeon Jungkook. You'll have to stick around to find out Doctor Jungkook's true nature and perhaps figure him out. If you didn’t grow to hate him first, that is.

Warnings: doctor! AU, grumpy x sunshine! AU, SLOWBURN sarcasm, dark humor (it will get darker), mentions of sickness, mentions of treatments, Jungkook is an ass, cussing (like once), oc is described to be shorter than Koo, oc wears perfume, mentions of food, this is a light chapter tbh, (let me know if I missed anything!)

Word Count: 2.1k words

A/N: Hello, everyone! Welcome to the pilot of my new series! I hope you are excited about this new project of mine. This will be a looong series to begin with, filled with long chapters and lots of dark humour. löl

This was inspired by the American series "Dr. House" as I recently started to watch it (again) and well, this came out. I really hope you will enjoy it and will look forward to more of our medical duo!

☕Caffeinate me so I can keep on writing! ☕

The soft tick tack of the clock on the wall was the only thing that could be heard in the spacious office among the dry sound of someone playing with a yoyo. The lights were off, people walked outside of the hall, not paying attention to the eccentric doctor who waited to clock out of work as soon as it was five sharp.

The door to his office opened and a loud sigh was heard before the sweet voice of the man at the door spoke.

"Dr. Jeon, Seokjin wants to see you."

With an abrupt movement, Jungkook caught the yoyo before he stood up with lethargic movements, already dreading to meet his boss and Dean of Medicine of the hospital he worked at.

"What now? Is he going to pester me again about the clinic?"

Taehyung, the man at the door and a kind nurse at Hanyang University Teaching Hospital shrugged as he pressed his lips in a thin line. The doctor sighed, making his way out of the office without another word.

While walking through the corridors, he felt the eyes of the staff on him. How they somehow felt intimidated by his emotionless aura. Jungkook didn't care. He has never cared to begin with. But he wasn't going to deny it came to be uncomfortable from time to time. And all because of what? Because he didn't like visiting his patients? What a crappy excuse to hide their distaste.

"What do you want, Seokjin?"

Said Jungkook in an almost demanding voice as he entered the office of his superior. Seokjin sighed to himself, running a hand through his hair before he stood up.

"Have you ever heard about knocking?"

"Well, I have now. Thanks for the enlightening experience."

Seokjin rolled his eyes, already on edge at the attitude of the slightly younger doctor before him.

"You owe me your clinic hours."

Jungkook let out a deep breath, taking out his zippo lighter from his pant's pocket as he flipped the lid on and off, on and off and on and off again.

"Are you really going to lecture me right now? I have work to do, Seokjin."

The latter pursed his lips together, annoyance bubbled within him at the audacity Dr. Jeon had to speak that way to his very own superior and boss.

"Don't provoke me, Jeon. You'll do three hours a day and since you delayed it for two years, I'm adding an extra four years to compensate for the time lost."

Jungkook frowned, closing his lighter abruptly with a dry sound that resonated across the walls of the nearly empty office.

"I can always resign."

A smirk painted itself over Seokjin's plump lips as he gazed at the doctor in front of him with subtle arrogance over his dark eyes.

"I sign your paychecks and you signed a contract with this hospital. Besides, no-one would hire you. You are hideous to work with, Jeon."

Jungkook let out a groan, visibly irritated at how his day had turned into.

"If that was all you wanted to say, I'll be in my office questioning my entire existence."

Seokjin let out a soft chuckle, happy with himself at Jungkook's annoyance. Sometimes, the young doctor needed a taste of his own medicine.

"Dr. Jeon,"

He stopped at arms length from the glass door. Closing his eyes in utter exasperation before he turned around and glared at Seokjin.

"your immunologist has been selected. She'll be with you in an hour or two."

Jungkook frowned, putting his lighter back in his pocket as he took a step forward, never breaking eye contact.

"She?"

He lifted an eyebrow and Seokjin nodded, shoving his hands in his white coat as he elaborated further.

"Oh, yes. You'll love her. She's quite a darling, actually. Very professional too."

Jungkook rolled his eyes, turning around to exit the office for once as he mumbled under his breath a single sentence Seokjin was too far away to actually hear.

"We'll see."

And with that, his hand grabbed the metal handle and he opened the door, turning around abruptly to go back to his office and silently wait until it was five o'clock so that he could leave when he suddenly felt someone collide with him.

Jungkook let out a soft grunt at the impact before his hands automatically went to stabilise the person whose scent invaded his senses like a thick fog on a summer morning.

The smell of Miss Dior suffocated him as he looked down at the woman who blinked in confusion before she began apologising profusely.

"I am so sorry. I wasn't looking where I was going."

You looked up with wide eyes and slightly parted lips only to meet the intense gaze of a tall man with dark hair and doe eyes that were as cold as ice. His hands held your waist with a firm grip while your hands rested on his forearms.

"Obviously you weren't looking."

You gulped, taking a step back from him. Forcing his large hands to leave your form before you bent down and picked up the -luckily- still container of fresh salad as well as some papers you dropped when you collided with the handsome stranger.

"Again, I am deeply sorry for-"

But when you looked up, he was already gone. You caught a glimpse of him rounding a corner before he disappeared from your line of sight, leaving you to sigh to yourself as you stood up and entered Seokjin's office.

Wordlessly you walked over to the desk, head down as you placed the files and the food down.

"I see you have already met Dr. Jeon."

You looked up at the older male as your cheeks flushed a light shade of pink at his insinuation. He probably saw everything from the commodity of his office.

"That- that was Dr. Jeon?"

He chuckled at the surprise in your voice. Seokjin was well aware of the reputation Jungkook had in the hospital. It was actually one of the main reasons why he didn't fire him despite his bitter demeanour and ironic comments that balanced between sarcasm and rudeness. A line very thin he crossed more times than he could count.

"Don't worry about him! He'll love you."

You sent him a nervous smile, not actually knowing what to do with yourself as you were caught up in such an awkward situation.

"I bet he will."

Those words left your lips in a soft murmur, only meant for you to hear but, despite your efforts, they brought a smile to Seokjin's face.

"Where's Jeon?"

Doctor Min Yoongi asked with a tint of irritation in his normally calm voice while he spinned his pen between his fingers. Doctor Jimin cleared his throat, organising his papers before he commented in his soft voice to ease the tension that had suddenly risen in the office.

"Have you all heard of the new immunologist? Seokjin said she'll be joining us today. I heard she's beautiful."

At that last sentence, Yoongi sighed deeply while Hoseok, a doctor who worked in the ER, chuckled.

"You find every single woman beautiful, Jimin."

That latter rolled his eyes, a soft smile painting over his rosy and plump lips before the door opened and the attention fell over your figure. You held yourself with elegance yet sympathy in your movements.

"I'm sorry, is this the diagnostician team office? Dr. Seokjin left me in the middle of the corridor so that he could go and get one of those tuna sandwiches."

A tall man with hazelnut coloured hair and a charming heart-shaped smile approached you.

"Yes it is. Are you looking for someone?"

You nodded, mirroring his gentle smile as you spoke with confidence laced in your words.

"Yes. I'm Doctor Lee (y/n) and I am here to work on Doctor Jeon's team."

Hoseok turned around slowly and sent Jimin a surprised look before his attention was back on you.

"You are certainly in the right place, Doctor Lee. Let me introduce you to the team."

Jungkook walked toward the office where a meeting had started twenty minutes ago. His team was probably already there and waiting for him. With heavy yet quick steps, he travelled across the large hospital, navigating through its halls as if he lived there. In a way, he did. From nine to five that was his life.

When Jungkook entered the diagnostician team office, he smelled it again. That lovely perfume he had detected two hours ago when he was leaving Seokjin's office. Miss Dior. He recognised the perfume immediately and it only took him another second to look up to spot that woman from before now sitting next to Doctor Min.

"Where were you? The meeting started twenty minutes ago."

Asked Doctor Park as he fixed his glasses over the bridge of his nose. Jungkook sighed, walking over to the whiteboard they had in the room before he faced his team once more.

"Smoke break."

He simply stated. As if it were the most obvious thing in the world. To him it was, at least. You looked at Jimin in front of you, asking him silently if it would be a good opportunity to introduce yourself now to which he replied with a subtle nod and an almost invisible smile. You took a deep, silent breath in before you stood up.

"Good evening, Doctor Jeon. I'm Doctor Lee (y/n), I'm sure Seokjin told you about me. I am to work under you."

Jungkook turned to look at you. The rumours he had heard about the new immunologist were true for you were indeed rather beautiful. Not that he was going to point that out now but still...

"I know who you are. We met earlier today, remember?"

"I... uh-"

He narrowed his eyes at you, as if he were scrutinising you. Analysing you even. And something in his intense gaze made you shiver.

"Don't worry, Seokjin told me everything I need to know about you, Doctor Lee. Just do me a favour and do not keep bumping into people in the hospital, it can cause quite the drama sometimes."

Your cheeks flushed at his comment. So he did see you. He did remember. You didn't say anything further before sitting down on your chair.

"Doctor Jung, what do we have?"

Completely disregarding the last subject, Jungkook spoke with a monotonous voice. Making all eyes go to Hoseok who cleared his throat before saying.

"The antibiotics on the 401 patient are working accordingly and we are seeing progress on the damaged tissue. We believe he'll be discharged in five to seven days at most."

Silence stretched into the room.

"If that was all, you could have sent me a text."

Doctor Jeon spoke with bitterness before he began walking towards the entrance way.

"Where are you going?"

Asked Yoongi, the cardiologist sitting next to you. With all eyes on him, Jungkook opened the door and simply said.

"It's five o'clock."

And with that, he was out of the door before he walked down the hallway. Doctor Min let out a dry chuckle, picking up his notebook as he stood up.

"He took that long-ass "smoke break" only to cut this meeting short. Typical."

You looked around confused. This was certainly not the way you were used to work. Let alone call it your first experience in a new hospital. Yoongi and Hoseok left the office room, leaving you and Jimin alone as the latter put his glasses on their respective case before he stood up as well.

"Wait, what just happened?"

Jimin sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose before he gazed down at you with tender yet tired eyes.

"That's how he is. Trust me, you'll get used to his antics."

You blinked, still confused as to what just this so-called meeting was.

"I don't understand, Doctor Jeon seemed to know what he's doing."

Jimin let out a soft chuckle. Almost as if his laugh alone was a spoonful of honey.

"Oh, believe me, he does. How else do you think he had kept his job for so long?"

You nodded slowly at that before you, too began picking up your notebook and pocketed your phone. Jimin and you left the office in silence but you just couldn't stop thinking about the eccentric and almost rude doctor that was now your boss yet was as well incredibly handsome yet seemed to have swallowed the most bitter caramel there ever was.

You'll have to stick around to find out Doctor Jeon Jungkook's true nature and perhaps figure him out. If you didn’t grow to hate him first, that is.

☕Caffeinate me so I can keep on writing! ☕

February/25/2025

~Drabbles are open for this AU!

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lilliankoo · 9 months

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“TITANIC” (I) SHIP OF DREAMS ♰ jjk.

♰ series masterlist / more info.

pairing: artist!jungkook x rich y/n!

synopsis: the port is bustling with thousands of passengers and the ocean liner- titanic stands in its all glory in front of you, but among all this pretty chaos, a man with paintings in his hands catches your eyes. this titanic voyage is bound to open new doors for you- which one will you choose?

genre: strangers to lovers, star-crossed lovers, smut.

word count: 3.3k

warnings: [things are just getting started] classism, descriptions of ocean/freezing temperatures, rich/poor themes, controlling mother, talks about (forced) marriage. future smut.

author’s note: things are just getting started, this chapter is more of a “pilot” and setting the stage for the plot! i apologize if its boring lol + i am not a professional writer :D don’t expect some Shakespeare level flow or plot building lmfao ok enough! lets go.

April 14, 1912

1:11 am

“I still think we have met before” you tell him as your teeth chatter and goosebumps ignite your skin due to the chilling ocean water. The subtle ocean waves roar and wrap around your waist once in a while as if they are inviting you; inviting you to go with them and let go of the hands of your lover. The lover who is holding your hands so desperately; laced are his fingers in yours as if this is how it's always been- you and him; hand in hand. Always & forever.

The tears cascade down from his cheeks into the ocean water, you watch as the teardrops trudge from his lash line into the saline water- one by one. He hiccups and looks around hoping to catch someone’s eye and get you both out of this.

“I need you to at least try to get on this door, there is enough space” he says hastily, tries you to get on the piece of door he is on right now, moving rapidly as if every minute is precious- which is, considering how the water temperature decreases minute by minute and it is getting harder for you to even blink. The little ice flakes sit on your eyelashes like pearls in the ocean; so beautiful- almost making you look like an angel on earth.

you smile dreamily as you close your eyes and rest your head on both of your connected hands; not even trying to save yourself because you know it is an attempt that has no success, “i think i saw you in france, you were selling one of your paintings” you say trying to ignore the fact that your lower body is freezing and you cannot feel anything. It is a numb feeling- not only in your legs but in your heart too. In your heart too, because no matter what you do you cannot change the past and fix this.

he drops his lips to your forehead and kisses it. tries to feel your skin for the last time but he can’t. Because his lips are freezing and so is your body. The kiss doesn't feel like the kisses he used to give you in his warm bed. The way he used to murmur promises in between the light kisses on your lips- however, this kiss feels like nothing but a false promise. “Everything will be fine” “we will always be together” when you know that the more you both speak the more breaths you are wasting.

A moment passes as he lifts his head from yours and looks at you. Looks at the way the cold gives a natural pink blush to your cheeks and how prepossessing you look right now. Suddenly, he remembers the words of his grandmother; something she used to tell him when he was a young kid. “Man glows differently when he is about to leave this earth and go to the almighty” he never understood what she meant. He drops his eyes from your eyes to your lips- which are pinkish like the roses he used to put in your hair all the time. In that moment, Jungkook swears he had never seen someone more beautiful like you. his smile fades when he realizes the words of his grandma; the words something along the lines of “glow and leaving”. his heart drops in the pit of his stomach deeper than the ocean you are in right now. Jungkook shakes your connected hands hysterically as he nudges you to open your eyes.

“y/n! y/n! open your eyes my love! ” his voice cracks as he hopes for you to respond back. waits for you to open your eyes, laugh and say something like “i was just trying to scare you i'm right here!” or something. but nothing. Not a single sound to his ears besides the sound of furniture and bodies floating around and the sound of the silent ocean.

A moment passes again, the temperature in the atmosphere decreases and Jungkook’s body starts freezing; ashes of ice decorate his eyelashes and cheekbones, his lips turn purple pink and for some reason he can’t feel his hands. can’t feel the softness of your hands. His eyes keep closing on their own but he tries to keep them open- because he doesn't want you out of his sight. scared that you might leave him if he blinked his eyes even once. murmurs “come back” for the last time as he watches your hands leaving his cold ones, watches you go with the waves as if you accepted their invitation. watches your beautiful face one last time as his eyes close entirely.

April 10th, 1912

7:30am

The port is bustling with thousands and thousands of people when you and your mother finally reach there. Some are carrying suitcases on their heads, some their children in their arms and some are waving at the passengers already aboard the gigantic ocean liner. Words like “write me when you get there” “bon voyage” “will you come back” reach your ears as you and your mother surf through the ocean of people to reach the boarding line.

“Darling, stick with me, we don't want these peasants touching your supple skin” your mother says, pulling you to her side and looking at the people around like they are not humans. like they don't have blood and limbs just like her. you scoff internally at your mother’s remarks, you smile at whoever makes eye contact with you. you notice the way some even blush and shy away as someone like you dressed in finest silk gowns, diamonds and pearls even looked their way.

Last night you remember how the news of boarding the ocean liner was dropped on you. “darling we are going to new york” your mother told you as she handed you the pamphlet- “ship of dream, the titanic” in bold lettering caught your eye and some sentences like “largest vessel in the world” “queen of the ocean” “once in a lifetime opportunity” and so on. you sighed because you know what this is all about. the liner is going to be filled with fellow millionaires and richest of the riches, this is nothing but your mother’s plot to find a groom for you.

Now, looking at the Titanic in front of you, you indeed can agree that it is truly the queen of the ocean. The vessel stands at a height in its all glory, the flags afloat in the air proudly as if they are proud to be displayed at a liner like titanic. your mother nudges your arm and motions you to close your amused mouth. you don’t miss the way she glares at you and almost says “behave” through her eyes. you nod and look around and smile whoever smiles your way. The weather is serene; the sun shines surrounded by clouds and the temperature is chilling due to the water you are being surrounded with. you and your mother both stand near the first class boarding gate as your mother informed you how the son of the titanic shipwrights “the son of the man who built this giant”- her words- will escort us and by the way, she smiles and rolls back her shoulder, You know it is something more. that the supposed man is the man she wants you to marry.

While waiting for the supposed man to arrive, you look around the port and at the families. you notice how some are giddy, some are crying and some are hugging their loved ones. your attention is derived from the crowd when you hear a man talk to your mother. “Welcome mrs.dewitt bukater” a man dressed in a black breasted jacket addresses your mother as he hugs her and kisses her cheek. your mother smiles and motions for you to come forward. before you can speak the man takes your hand and kisses the back of it.

“mademoiselle” he says and bows his head, not letting go of your hand. you smile and tell him to just call you y/n. he smiles and introduces himself too. “It's a pleasure to meet you Mr.kim, we thank you for all your pleasantries and the efforts you put in for our utmost comfort” you say just the way your mother made you practice last night. your mother smiles proudly looking at you and the Mr.kim in front of you.

“Just mingyu is fine, y/n and it is my utmost pleasure, it is the least I can do” he says while smiling and letting go of your hand. “The liner is going to sail in 30 mins, mrs. bukater if you don’t mind, would you like to meet my mother while I show y/n around? there are some things i would like to share with her” he says as he holds both of your mother's hands. your mother wholeheartedly agrees and enters the liner- however not before hugging you and saying something in your ear. “We are rich but mingyu is the type of rich that can buy you an island in minutes. behave and keep in mind what i told you ''. and you exactly know what she means. you smile forcefully and nod your head. you look at your mother entering the liner and as she talks to a woman you guess is mingyu’s mother.

Mingyu touches your lower back and extends his hand in the direction of the bow of the titanic- motioning you to walk along with him. “y/n, Titanic is the largest and most luxurious passenger ship right now '' he tells you as he walks you through everything the liner is made of. as if you care. He points at the liner’s windows and railings telling you about the metal it is made of. He tells you about the luxuries the liner offers, the gym, the personal orchestra and so on. you look at him and the way he sounds so passionate about it- almost proud too since his daddy dearest built it. you control yourself from yawning as this is a topic that doesn’t ignite any desire and simply bores you. The topics you usually enjoy are about art and paintings however you guess mingyu is not that type of a person. “y/n, the titanic has 16 watertight compartments designed to keep it afloat if damaged which means it is unsinkable, even the god cannot make it sink” he tells you smiling proudly as he looks down at you. due to the height difference, you crane your neck at him then the liner in front of you.

“That is impressive but you shouldn’t challenge the almighty that way” you say, unlinking your arm with his. you wrap your arms around your torso as goosebumps rise on your skin due to the chilling oceanic temperature, you look around and at the people in the third class boarding ; you see people trying to get on the ship as it's boarding soon. However, someone special stands out to you the most.

a young man wearing suspenders and with black hair catches your eye. Only the back of his head is visible to you as his back is facing you and he doesnt turn around much, a suitcase by his feet and some frames wrapped in newspapers that look like paintings in his hand. the officer asks him something and he replies. the officer motions for him to step aside. you watch the conversation from afar and come to the conclusion that the man is being denied boarding. “mingyu what's going on over there” you ask him, still looking at the man who now wipes his eyes- which you think is because of tears. Mingyu laughs and tells you how the business of third class is not ours.

you turn around and look at mingyu. study the way his eyes scan your face and linger at your lips. hooked. you smile and trace his jawline with your finger. “Well, Mr.kim, you're the man in power” you say and his breath hitches. his breath hitches because he knows where this is going. knows you are testing him and the power he holds. However, in reality the only person you care about right now is the one with paintings in his hands. the one that has tears in his eyes. Mingyu nods and tells you how he will take care of it. you watch him go over to the small crowd and talk to the officer. you are still at a distance and cannot hear what they are saying. you watch them from afar, the man still has his back to you, mingyu looks through some papers and just as soon as that man is about to face your direction someone calls your name.

“mademoiselle dewitt!” You turn around at your name and come face to face with a man that you guess is in his 50s with some streaks of grey hair in his black hair, dressed in a breasted jacket just like mingyu- wait, he looks alot like mingyu too- the man bows his head and you accept the hand he offers. “good morning mademoiselle dewitt, i am kim joong-ki, the shipwrights of titanic” the man says. the man who designed this liner stood in front of you, bowing his head. you were confused as to why a powerful man like him was there for you. you greet him back and compliment him for his work on this titanic.

The conversation goes on for a few minutes before joong-ki informs you how well he knows your father and wishes he was aboard too. However, due to your father’s diamond business, he had to stay back. “We should get going, the Titanic is going to sail soon, please come along this way, i will bring mingyu in a minute” joong-ki informs you while nudging you in the direction of the door.

“y-yes but i am actually wai-” your words are cut off as he practically runs off in the direction of his son. the officer in front of you motions to enter. Just as you are about to enter you look over at that man’s direction in thid class area and see him entering the titanic, you could only catch the glimpse of his side profile as the moment was short but you were sure that he was handsome. The giddy feelings sits in your heart as you think about how you entered the queen of the ocean at the same time as the man who caught your eyes.

The vague descriptions written in pamphlets about the interior of the Titanic didn’t do any justice at all to the beautiful reality as you look at the grand staircase in front of you. The staircase in front of you right now is supposedly one of the most impressive features of the entire ship. The ship tour started a while ago. Just as you entered the titanic, your mother introduced you to the women she befriended and all of them decided to do a tour accompanied by Mingyu and his father. from what you have heard from joong-ki so far- that this lavish staircase spanns six decks from boat deck to E deck and continues through the F deck. whatever that means.

“As you can see ladies, the staircase is crowned by an extravagant wrought iron and glass dome along with a large chandelier at the centre. The dome provides natural light to the stairwell before being artificially lit at night from behind. If you step down a little, you can see at the central landing of the A-Deck staircase is an exquisitely carved clock with allegorical figures on either side, known as Honor and Glory Crowning Time and At the foot of the staircase, on the newel post of the middle balustrade, is a bronze cherub holding an electric torch” kim joong-ki gives a descriptive tour of the staircase, pointing out every single detail. you watch as everyone awes in amusement while you wait for the clock to strike another hour and hope for this unannounced tour to end quickly.

It's been approximately two hours since the Titanic set sail and since then you only have been doing the tour and it looks like it’s still not over. “mother, i'm going to step outside on the deck and breathe in some air” you whisper to your mother who flares her hand around signaling you to leave her alone as you are ruining the important information dear mr.kim is giving. you smile to yourself and shrug before mingyu or anyone else can notice, you step out and head to the upper deck.

you take a deep breath as you reach the deck and see the beautiful ocean around you. you have always been intrigued by the ocean’s beauty- always wondered what’s deep inside the water and so on. you laugh as the air flows through your hair dramatically ruining your perfect curls. you laugh because this is the most free you have ever felt in a long time. you don’t need to fix your hair or act womanly right now. there is no one around but the ocean. you fix your skirts and smooth down the material of your gown before standing in front of the railing. The railing is cold to your hands and it sends a weird chill to the back of your neck. you smile and look at the lower deck which is for the third class passengers. Since everyone has just gotten on the Titanic & is still exploring and settling in, there are not lots of passengers at the deck right now- besides a man near the left railing with his back to you; who looks like is sketching and a group of men smoking near the right end side.

The man sketching sticks your attention as he holds a notebook in his hand and a pencil in his other. momentarily, he lifts his head from the notebook to the front and that's when you notice he is drawing the oceanic view in front of him. you smile and lean a little more to see his work when suddenly your bracelet unlatches from your wrist and falls on the lower deck. The very same bracelet that matches with your “heart of the ocean” pendant adorning your neck. For a moment you freeze and assess whatever took place just now. you look around helplessly and down at the man and the group but none of them noticed the dropping. you instantly run in the direction of the entrance and internally pray to the almighty that no one gets their hands on it before you. you run through the stairs to the third class entry gates. you run fast as you can and follow the directions displayed in the corners to the lower deck. Just as you are about to open the lower deck’s door, someone catches your arm.

“Madam, this is not a suitable area for you” a man that you guess is a butler warns you. He lets go of your arm and blocks the gate by standing in front of it. “Sir, i will make it quick, i need to go” you plead to the butler with tears in your eyes as you cannot stand the chance of losing your bracelet that was gifted to you by your grandmother.

“I am sorry madam, the third class area is filled with poor filthy passengers, some pathetic men might take advantage of you” he replies as he shows no sign of stepping aside.

“I order you to step aside before i talk to Mr. kim” you warn him.

“But madam”- the butler sighs when you don’t budge and he steps aside while telling you to “make it quick”.

you run once again and reach the area you kind of guess it dropped. you look up to the upper deck and calculate the location of the railing you were previously standing at. you look down at the floor but you meet with nothing but with a piece of paper in place of your supposed bracelet. you look around confusingly and pick up the paper. you unfold it and come across a scribbled note.

“Meet me where the nest resides and the stars shine brighter than they are, meet me in the pale moonlight and maybe I will tell you where we are - J ”

next chapter- brooklyn baby.

taglist: @currently-stanning-bts @justagirlinlovewithsevenboys @namelesskeid @jksbibomp @withluvjm @heartstealer-law @badgyalcedi @hellbornsworld @kissyfacekoo @september-husband @yourbobaeyestell @pointofviewyugyeom @ohcarolinamin @jungkooksmytype @erensfavblackie @kaithezaftig

#jungkook fanfic #jungkook fic #jungkook recs #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook #jungkook #jungkook smut #bts jungkook #jeon jungguk #jungkook imagine #jungkook x y/n #jungkook reader #bts jk #bts fic #bts smut

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starryswitchy · 8 months

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✨ if BTS were the bridge crew of a Star Trek ship ✨

I have spent an absolutely u n h i n g e d amount of time on this

setting this in the 2370s, on a Lotus Flower class starship (bc how could I not?) with an exploration mission LET'S GO

Captain Kim Namjoon (obviously). A Bajoran, deeply philosophical & anti-imperialist. Top of his Academy class, just made Captain. USS Bangtan is his pride & joy, but his real devotion is to his crew, especially his 7-man bridge crew. His typical uncool Captain hobby (they all have one) is reciting poetry.

XO Commander Jung Hoseok, 2nd in command. Human, curious & deceptively hardy. Joon's details guy. Runs the crew with an effective combination of terrifying strictness & genuine love. Might close his eyes & hold on tight during ship maneuvers, don't call attention to it. Idolised by the junior bridge crew.

Chief Engineer Min Yoongi. Human, but raised Caitian (his parents were Federation citizens living on Cait, he went to Caitian nursery and school, had all Caitian friends and babysitters). People find him impossible to read; this is partly by his design & partly bc his body language is literally catlike. Genius engineer who secretly loves being relied on for miracles, but complains constantly. Very protective. The earpiece is so he can listen to music while he works; you know things are really fucking serious if he takes it out.

Chief Medical Officer Lt. Commander Kim Seokjin. His job consists of saving lives and yelling at people for being excessively heroic. The only one who can overrule Joon, if medically necessary. Enjoys spending time on the bridge making unhelpful jokes. Has ALL the best holosuite programmes. Told half the ship that the old-fashioned glasses are just for show because he likes the vintage aesthetic and the other half that they've got state-of-the-art micro-scanners for instant diagnostic information relay. Actually he's short-sighted but doesn't want to tell his patients he hasn't gotten around to getting that fixed yet.

Chief Comms Officer Lieutenant Park Jimin. Human-Betazoid, with empathetic psychic abilities. The ship's literal mood-maker. Adores his job, which he sees as "getting the whole galaxy to like him". Absolutely fantastic at first contact. Inseparable from Tae; they were the only two half-humans in their Academy class. Jimin had a harder time at school, despite not standing out so much visibly, and has absolutely flourished now he's found his place.

Chief Tactical Officer Lieutenant Kim Taehyung. Human-Orion & more than willing to use anti-Orion prejudices to manipulate situations. He plays up his sexy, sultry, vague persona, but his crew knows he's exceptionally hard to deceive or outmanoeuvre. Deadly loyal, especially to Jimin. Has a reputation for bending the rules, but it's hard to argue with his results.

Helmsperson Ensign Jeon Jungkook. Vulcan, very physically strong, mildly confused by everyone. Ace pilot, set Academy records in piloting & martial arts. It's his first day on the job, first ship, first crew, & he's so determined to impress his hyungs he's kinda scaring them!

#bts fanart #bts fanfic #bts #bts AU #TrekTan #Star Trek AU #serious I spent so long on this #like a really really ridiculous amount of time #but I love these images #and hey I'm on holidays #what are holidays for if not for creating weird BTS AUs

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violetsiren90 · 7 months

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Blame Me: Chapter 1 | Jungkook/Reader

Pairing: artist!freespirit!Jungkook/noona!f!Reader

Genre: Best friend's younger brother; slow burn; friends to lovers; eventual romance; eventual smut; neighbors/childhood friends au; forbidden(ish) love; summer love.

Summary: Upon returning to your hometown after breaking off your engagement to your boyfriend of three years, you reconnect with your childhood bestfriend as you attempt to put the pieces of your life back togethe r. It seems like nothing has changed in the sleepy little town until your bestie's younger brother returns home from college - very, very grown. As the summer stretches on, the stakes get higher - can you play with fire without getting burned, or have you ignited a flame that won't be extinguished?

Chapter Warnings: All my fics are 18+ (minors, dni); allusions to an unhappy home environment/neglect; descriptive scenes of shared meals (the characters will eat together a lot in this fic, as it is part of a family dynamic); mentions of promiscuity made in jest; the accidentally-in-bed-together trope; brief panic attack symptoms; MC has some issues with guilt and feeling like a burden

Updates: When I can! Life has been crazy lately.

Author's note: This is so incredibly late in coming, and I really struggled with it for whatever reason (the initial inspo was there and then it just wasn't coming) but I am still excited to tell this story and thank you in advance to anyone who takes the time to read it!

*Inspired by "Blame Me" by Monsta X 💕

In case no one has told you yet today, you are loved and worthy of love! 🧜‍♀️ 💜

Tag list: @papijiminfeed @oopscoop @violeata @fancycollectormoon @fandomtales @booboobutt @jlee97 @lifeless-firefly @lovemepie67 @shaybtsforever @woomyteez @smutbangtan @raiu54288

If you want to be added to the tag list, comment or send me an ask to let me know!

You watched the shiny white Tesla that had been your Uber grow smaller and smaller down the long shady stretch of Tiger Lily Lane. You stood on the sidewalk, behind you the warm asphalt of the road and long shadows of the tall, sprawling elms, and before you your childhood home. It was a little grey house with a blue door and white trim, kitchen windows like jovial eyes, curved at the top, staring out over a lawn overrun with crabgrass and lined with bushes of pale pink roses that grew flush with the unpainted picket fence. The porch swing was beginning to show signs of rust, but the two little hanging pots of azaleas that flanked it on either side were blooming and bright. The windows and flowers seemed to loudly stare out into the street, assuring neighbors and passersby of a happy home, but you knew better.

You shifted your duffel bag on your shoulder and sighed. You weren't ready to go in. The house into which your family had moved when you were in the third grade had never really been a home to you. In fact, it had been a place you had left. By choice. Granted you had paid the occasional visit, by choice. Because visits were temporary. This wasn't a visit - and the moment you walked through those doors, you would be shutting forever a chapter of your life in which, as stormy as it had been in recent days, had rescued you from the one before it.

An ugly feeling that had been brewing in the pit of your stomach since the pilot had announced that your plane was starting its decent was making itself well known as you stood outside the gate of house number 9195.

A voice snapped you out of your nauseated reverie, and as you turned to see its owner, new feelings washed over you. Better ones. In the lawn of 9197 Tiger Lily Lane stood a pretty, slim young woman with a sharply cut, silky black bob. Her catlike dark eyes were bright and intense, her face bare but lovely, and her clothes simple but strikingly presentable.

"Y/n!" she called again, her arms extended with open palms in a gesture of embrace and inquisition.

"Jiah!" you shouted, dropping your duffel with a thud and jogging into the ungated yard where she stood.

No sooner were you within arm's reach than she pulled you into a tight hug, swaying you from side to side as she pressed out of you, along with all the air in your lungs, a muffled laugh. Suddenly grasping you by the shoulders, she jerked you back so she could look at you. You grabbed her arms to steady yourself, continuing to gasp out bursts of laughter as you protested.

"Jiah, hold on! Woah! I'm gonna fall!"

"Who cares about that! I haven't seen you since...oh my god, since the summer we finished undergrad, I think? How are you? Are you going to be in town for a few days?"

You looked back over your shoulder to where two bulging suitcases stood beside your abandoned duffel, then back to Jiah's inquisitive gaze.

"It's gonna be more than a few days, Ji."

She squeezed your shoulder as she cocked her head to the side.

"Wait, are you moving back?"

You mustered a weary, uncertain smile.

"Surprise!" you offered weakly. Her smile faded, lips drawing into a pensive purse.

"You haven't even been in there yet, have you?" she asked gravely, her eyes searching yours, hand still on your shoulder. You shook your head, lowering your gaze groundward. She sighed.

"Alright, c'mon," she said suddenly, marching toward your pile of luggage.

She grabbed the duffel and tossed it at you, wheeling the other two bags up the driveway behind her.

"You're coming with me for now. We have some catching up to do."

You didn't protest as you followed her over the threshold of the Jeon household for the first time in a long while.

Linen. Every house has its very own unique scent - one that draws you into its aura, for good or ill, and wraps you in all of the memories and feelings it has afforded you; it can take you back to a moment in time, and who you were in that moment, unmistakable and fleeting - a smoke ring of a portal to a previous reality. Jiah's house smelled like linen. And lilacs? Something floral, but even more delicate.

You inhaled deeply, closing your eyes as you stood just inside the door. The sick feeling in your stomach began to shrink. Every muscle in your body began to soften. You could hear the laughter of years ago. You could feel the bubbly schoolgirl giddiness of slumber parties under forts of sheets. Movie nights with cartons of takeout. Summer afternoons laying in the grass and tossing lazy wishes up at puffy white clouds.

"Y/n? Have you even been listening to me?"

You opened your eyes and blinked at Jiah, who was standing in front of you with two bottles of grapefruit IPA and a look of mild annoyance.

"Sorry," you offered with a sheepish smile, slipping off your shoes, and traded the duffel in your right hand for one of the beers in answer to the question you had missed.

You followed her into the living room and plopped down next to her on a pretty white couch you didn't recognize, taking a long, wheaty swig from your bottle. She folded her legs up under herself and turned toward you, fixing you with earnest, expectant eyes. You raised an eyebrow quizzically.

"Well, aren't you gonna tell me?" she pressed.

You smiled to yourself. Always so direct, Jeon Jiah. Even with half a decade stretching between this moment and the last you spent together, things were the very same. You were the Libra - the dramatic, messy one. The one with a heart full of dreams and a head in the clouds. She was the Capricorn with the strong sense of direction and the practical perspective. You always seemed to be in a quandary and she never failed to have a hard take on the situation. You sighed, taking another long sip of beer.

"Have we really talked at all since freshman year of undergrad?" Jiah shook her head.

While you had fought like hell to get out of Bellpond - even if it meant chasing your father's dreams of law school instead of your own - Jiah, who desperately wanted to join you in New York, had set aside her own longings to attend a local college while helping the family store survive the recession. Telling her the truth of what happened was going to be painful. You chewed on the inside of your cheek, trying to transcend the assumption that what you were about to say would let her down.

"It was a guy, wasn't it?"

You shot wide eyes up at her, mouth agape at her sudden interjection.

"What?" she pressed with a shrug as she sipped her own beverage,

"That's always what it is with you."

You blinked, trying to form some sort of protest while failing to find any evidence in memory to counter her claims. You settled for a rueful smile and a huff.

"I guess I always have had pretty terrible taste in men," you conceded.

"Pretty terrible?" she pushed, her face pinching into a comically overt censoriousness. "It's like your number one turn-on is red flags!"

"Hey!" you rebutted, launching yourself at her shoulder in a playful shove, and sloshing her beer in the process.

You froze in panic as she glanced down at her dampened cardigan, and then at you.

"Oh, shit! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!"

You jumped up and backed away, holding your hands outstretched in front of you as she stood up and slowly and menacingly advanced toward you.

"This is my favorite sweater," she hissed in a whisper.

"Jiah, I didn't mean too, I'm sorry!" you whined, manic laughter punctuating your words as you backed around the coffee table.

"It has lady bugs on the bottom," she hissed again, eyes narrowing as she raised the right hem to gesticulate at the embroidered insects in question.

"And they're very cute," you placated, hands still raised in self defense. "Look, I said I was - Aaahh!!"

She lunged at you mid-sentence, and you shrieked, tripping over your own feet in an attempt to flee and you toppled, one after the other, in a heap on the plush carpet. Before you could find out if your friend was in fact as strong as she had been in high school, the front door swung open and a familiar voice filled the room.

"Jeon Jiah, get up off the floor and help your imo with all these damn groceries! I had to - AHHHH!"

You looked up at the figure in the door as she let out a high-pitched squeal of delight. She was a petite bombshell of a woman in her early fifties, who, had you not known otherwise, you wouldn't have pegged for a day over forty. Bright and expertly executed makeup adorned her features - softer and rounder than Jiah's. Her permed dark hair was pulled up in a colorful bohemian wrap, and she wore compression pants, neon orange Nike's, and a crop top with a print of Joan Jett flipping the bird. She had dropped the bags of citrus and apples she had been carrying, sending the fruits rolling across the floor.

"Aebeolle!" She shrieked, running forward, and bending down to pull you up by your armpits into a half-stand so she could crush you in a hug.

"Rosie!" You propped yourself up on your knees so that you could wrap your arms around the tiny woman's middle.

Imo to her niece and nephew, she was Rosie to everyone else. While Jiah's mother had been the responsible one, staying out of trouble, and working in the family store after school, Rosie had been the wild child. Smart as a whip but with no patience for the system, Rosie had dropped out of high school at seventeen and jumped on a tour bus the following summer as the groupie of a grunge band. She hadn't looked back until Christmas Eve of 1999, when her whole world was shattered by a phone call.

She had taken the next flight back to the hometown she had promised to never set foot in again so that by Christmas morning she could have her niece and nephew in wrapped her arms. She left behind her life in the fast lane to take over running the Jeon's store and raise her sister's kids in their family home.

She had been there for you, too. On those nights you climbed out of your window, a backpack slung over your shoulder stuffed with clothes and a toothbrush, to tap softly on their front door. On the following mornings she had filled your stomach with warm, hearty dakjuk and fluffy slices of milk bread, and let you watch cartoons as she worked out the knots clinging to your neglected hair. She offered the warmest hugs, the softest words of direction, and the loudest cheers of praise. She had always called you "aebeolle" which was Korean for "caterpillar", and she had always given you the nurture you needed to survive. If she hadn't, you weren't sure where you would have come by it.

"What are you doing here? You finally paying us a visit?" she asked, clapping her hands to your cheeks.

"She was about to tell me about how some guy wrecked her life. Again."

Jiah interjected, earning herself a smack on the shoulder.

"Jiah, you brat!" Rosie chided, as she helped you to your feet.

She glanced up at you through fake lashes.

"You really do have the worst taste in men, though."

You sighed in defeat.

"Ugh, you two," you blustered, "Where is Jungkook when I need backup?"

"Headed this way, for the summer, actually," Rosie remarked as she collected the fruit strewn across the floor.

"So he decided to slum it, huh?" Jiah huffed, "I thought he was going to Ontario, or wherever the heck that last girl he met at that festival was from."

Rosie shrugged, shaking her head with a smile.

"I've lost track," she chuckled.

You blinked.

"Wait, wait, wait...are we talking about the same person?" You asked, holding a hand up in disbelief. "Jungkook. Your little brother. Tiny. Shy as hell. Looks like the weight of his head is gonna topple him over. Bunny rabbit teeth....is a lady's man?"

"Well, not strictly," Rosie hummed, hoisting a bag of produce onto the counter. "His sophomore year in Paris there was that one guy...what was his name?"

"Taehyung," Jiah offered, shedding her sweater and draining her beer.

"Right, right," Rosie nodded. "I liked him. Too bad."

Your mouth hung open. Jiah wrinkled her nose.

"You're gonna catch flies that way," she remarked sardonically.

"I...I just cannot believe what I'm hearing. Jungkook. In my mind he will forever be the tiny gremlin I have to keep bailing out of trouble."

Rosie smiled. Jiah scoffed.

"Well, he's still a gremlin, if you ask me," she sniffed, chucking the beer bottles in the recycling bin.

"When does he get back?" You asked.

Rosie shook her head as she divided the groceries between the cupboards and the fridge.

"He's on his bike so, barring any unexpected stops - which are definitely not out of the picture - he should be here in the next couple of days. Probably by the weekend."

You nodded, still trying to wrap your head around the newly acquired image of you and Jiah's childhood tag-a-long. Rosie approached you with a picture pulled up on her phone.

"Look at him," she said with a smile, sliding the device into your hand.

You blinked at the picture on the screen. There he stood - much taller than you remembered - a girl under each arm, filling out a pair of ripped jeans, a black tank, and an ascot. A fringe brushed the tops of his eyes, while the top half of his dark waves were bound back in a little bun. His right arm was covered in tattoos. He was grinning from ear to ear, with that same toothy smile you had committed to memory.

"That's just crazy," you murmured, shaking your head, before handing Rosie's phone back to her.

"He's going to be thrilled to see you. I think he has a lot of happy memories from when you three were kids just banging around town together," Rosie remarked as she continued to sort the groceries.

You smiled to yourself. You certainly did. You glanced at your bags by the door.

"I guess I should get going," you murmured without conviction.

"Not yet, not until I've fed you," Rosie responded, not skipping a beat as she began to pile the ingredients for bibimbap on the kitchen island.

You smiled to yourself. Rosie to the rescue, as always.

"Okay, if you're gonna twist my arm," you sighed dramatically as you pulled up a stool on the other side of the kitchen island, followed by Jiah who grabbed the carrots and a peeler.

You reached for a huge zucchini squash and knife. Jiah shot you some side-eye.

"You're not getting out of telling us about the big debacle, you know. Time to 'fess up."

"Yep, spill," Rosie concurred as she prepped the rice cooker.

You heaved another sigh. Might as well get it over with, you thought. But for some reason, the words stuck in your throat, unable to come out. You looked at your hands, shaking as they tried to steady the knife over the squash. You couldn't do this. Not right now. Not yet.

You let the knife clatter to the cutting board and scrubbed your hands over your face.

"Y/n?" Jiah asked, leaning over to look at you, "Are you okay?"

You drew your hands from your face and looked up at her with tired eyes. She and Rosie had traded their teasing glances for expressions of concern. You gripped the edge of the counter to stop your stupid hands from trembling.

"It's really not a fun story, you guys," you said slowly, trying your best to sound casual, "You're not missing out."

Rosie reached over the kitchen island to clasp your hands.

"No worries, aebeolle. We can talk about it some other time. For now, just stick to slicing up this zucchini and forget about that other one!"

She shot you a wink as she cracked open a tupperware of marinated beef.

"Imo! My god!" Jiah protested with a grimace as you and Rosie burst into a fit of giggles.

It was all laughter and shots of soju and teasing Jiah about being a prude until you were gathered around the table with steaming bowls of goodness in front of you. Rosie closed her eyes and threw up rock-on signs with both hands.

"May Stevie Nicks bless this food," she murmured before snapping up her chopsticks to snag a mandu and pop it into her mouth.

You took a heaping bite of bibimbap, your whole body relaxing as the flavors and warmth returned you to a simpler time. Another wave of nostalgia washed over you as images of three little hungry kids fighting over the last piece of fried chicken replaced the scene before you. Your eyes wandered to the empty chair beside Rosie. There was a missing piece in the picture of comfort you had always found in the Jeon residence - a missing piece in the shape of round head bearing a pair of giant doe eyes that would light up when he'd win and water-up when he'd lose, and little short legs that ran faster than the longer ones, and a bright smile that was all innocence and central incisors.

You smiled fondly as long-dormant memories continued to appear like little spring flowers of the mind. Jungkook had perfectly completed your little trio, because though Jiah was your best friend, you and he had always understood each other in a way that came so easily. You didn't mind that everything brought him to tears, or that he invested himself so earnestly in even the smallest of his joys. You also didn't find it annoying that he wanted to tag along with the big kids, or that he hated being called a baby despite practically demanding to be treated as one. You knew in a way Jiah would only later realize that he was caught between wanting to grow up too quickly and not at all. It was the same battle between longings that waged war in your own heart, along with so many others who in some way had to raise themselves.

"How's the oi muchim?" Rosie's question roused you from your reverie.

"Amazing, like everything," you answered, waving your chopsticks over the spread of banchan.

"I made it a little spicier this time," the older woman said, sampling the cucumbers again herself. "Trying to get these staples just right before the new place opens."

"New place? Another store?" You asked, helping yourself to more sukju namul.

Rosie's eyes shone, a proud smile tugging at her lips as she gave her answer.

"A restaurant, actually."

Your jaw dropped.

"You're finally doing it!?"

Rosie leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms, nodding at her niece.

"It's all Jiah's doing. She's taking care of all the logistics, I'm just figuring out the menu."

"Well, if you need help, I'm in between gigs at the moment," you added eagerly.

Rosie clapped her hands and wiggled in her chair.

"We would love the help! We've only just started hiring some staff. So far there's one person to wait tables and someone running the kitchen."

Jiah let out a huff. You quirked an eyebrow in her direction, and she appraised you with a look of wistful discouragement.

"Too bad you can't cook, or I'd boot him out tomorrow."

"Who?"

"The chef," she sneered.

"Speaking of, Jiah-ie," Rosie remarked over the food in her cheek, "How is Seokjin doing these days?"

The older woman chewed back a poorly concealed smirk as she glanced up at her niece, whose lips curled scornfully.

"One day, I'll kill him, I swear," she grumbled, shoveling rice into her mouth as if she was punishing it with every bite.

You glanced over at your friend, then at Rosie, who wiggled her eyebrows as she took a sip from her glass.

"Seokjin...not Kim Seokjin?" you asked.

"Yeeeeep," Jiah affirmed bitterly.

"He's a cook?"

Rosie nodded.

"And darn good at it. The only thing he's better at is pissing off this one right here," she remarked with a smirk as she gestured toward her glowering niece.

You smiled to yourself as Jiah started off on what would likely be a lengthy rant at the young man's expense. Seokjin, or Jin, as he was more commonly known, had attended the same small high school as you and Jiah. In a body of four-hundred students, everyone had played a well-known role - and while she had been the straight-laced valedictorian, he was the class clown. Natural enemies who found the other beyond comprehension, the bulk of the ire had always been on Jiah's side, while Jin had seemed to find her as amusing as he did inexplicable. The concept of the two of them attempting to run a business together was the stuff of sitcoms.

His ongoing feud with Jiah notwithstanding, it didn't really surprise you that he had tucked himself into the Jeons' life. His father owned most of the agricultural land in the surrounding area, and with his older brother having been slated since birth to take over the family empire, Jin had enjoyed a freedom of direction that found him often seeking out the phenomenon of being needed...and people always needed a laugh. But laughter is momentary, and Rosie, having the heart for strays that she did, always provided something more permanent.

"So now we're probably going to have to keep Jungkook at the store, because you know how they get when they're together," Jiah tiraded on.

"They don't get along anymore?" you asked, a bit crestfallen at the thought.

"The opposite," Rosie chuckled, "You put them in the same room and those dorks turn into a couple of puppies. They broke the back screen door roughhousing last Chuseok. Plowed right through it."

You snickered at the thought.

"But Jungkook is darn well gonna contribute while he's here," your friend asserted as she stood to clear the table, still on her agenda about the restaurant launch, "Not just cruise around finding pretty people to sketch between make-out sessions."

Rosie waved a hand dismissively.

"He's always willing to pitch in. But it's summer, and he's young, so don't you go all drill sergeant on him."

Jiah scoffed.

"Sure, it's summer, but there's a lot to get done between now and opening, and -"

"AND," Rosie interrupted, "I expect you to have some fun as well, young lady! Especially now that Y/n is back. You two better do a decent amount of carousing."

"Carousing?" Jiah asked with a grimace, directing horrified eyes in your direction.

You let out another laugh.

"She's got a point, Rosie. I don't think anyone has caroused in quite some time."

Rosie rolled her eyes, crossing to the sink and running the tap.

"Well," she rejoined, undeterred, "Whatever it is they're calling it these days, you two better be doing plenty of it! Give your imo some fun to live through vicariously, why don't you?"

Jiah shook her head, crossing her arms over her chest.

"And, you," she said, pointing a sudsy wooden spoon in your direction, "Should just stay here for the night. Take Jungkook's room. Then you can rest and be ready for...you know. Tomorrow."

You accepted the invitation with very little hesitation. It was a relief, and Rosie knew. She had always known. You shot a text to excuse your absence that you doubted was actually necessary and lugged your things down the hall and into the last bedroom on the left.

The rest of the night was spent stuffed onto the little couch with bowls of ice cream while the three of you shrieked and slapped each other's arms and kick your feet watching reruns of The Golden Girls. It was nearly midnight by the time you slipped under the sheets of the full-sized mattress in the smallest bedroom.

Though your eyes were heavy with exhaustion, you couldn't help but glance around at the walls and shelves, filled with scented candles, and action figures, Polaroids, and an incredible number of charcoal and graphite sketches. There were drawings of buildings, trees, cars, and people. And though there was little variation in color, the vitality and emotion that sparked along each line drew you from piece to piece. Your eyes drifted over a particular drawing - a girl's lower face - the tip of a nose, lips slightly parted, and her chin tilting upward. It might have been the delirium of your tired mind, but something about it seemed familiar. You stretched for a recollection just out of reach as you slipped past memory and into slumber.

Weight. The first thing you registered as your mind began to again become aware of its physical trappings was a heaviness. At first your hazy consciousness likened it to blankets, then to the heaviness of a sleep without dreams...safety...security...

And then something brushed the skin of your stomach under your shirt, drawing a hum out of you as your eyes fluttered open, and what they saw had you frozen in place. An arm. A large, muscular arm covered in dark ink was snaked around your waist, hand slipped under the hem of your sleep tee.

Fight or flight mode suddenly triggered, you snapped up and pushed yourself away from the body attached to the limb, letting out a shout as you kicked your legs, and only catching a glimpse of dark hair and grey sweatpants as the intruder rolled off the bed and hit the carpet with a loud thud. You jumped off the other side of the bed before you could think, tangling your legs in sheets that brought you tumbling down onto your ass. Before you could thrash free of the bedding, a groaning figure peered with large, dark eyes from the other side of the bed. Dark, wild waves framing his sleepy head like a halo, and wide, round eyes still bleary with sleep, the young man passed tattooed hand over his mouth to wipe the remnants of drool away as he blinked at you from across the room.

"J...Jungkook?!" you choked out in surprise and confusion, struggling to your feet.

"You kicked me..." he groaned, his features taking on an injured look as he stooped to rub his thigh.

"Why...when..."

"Imo told me to wake you up for breakfast," he pouted.

You scrubbed your hands over your eyes. Same damn baby-faced expression. Huge, bulky man. With tattoos...and a lip ring? This Pokémon had leveled up. Maybe twice. And that was all your brain could register as your heart rate descended from two hundred beats per minute and the heavy fog of an interrupted sleep cycle began to dissipate. You tossed the sheet back onto the bed, and as your eyes flicked back to his face you noticed his had dropped a little lower. Registering with horror that you were in a thin cotton nightshirt with nothing underneath, you snatched up the sheet again, clutching it to your chest. What the fuck was happening?

"Rosie told you to wake me up, so you decided to spoon me?" You asked incredulously as your embarrassment quickly morphed into agitation.

Jungkook's eyes widened as they flew up to yours, seemingly caught off guard by the edge in your tone.

"No, noona...it wasn't like that!" he said, standing to his full height, his brow creasing defensively.

He was pretty fucking tall. His white tee and grey sweats did little to hide the fact that he was also pretty fucking big. Exasperated by these unbidden acknowledgements that had your brain buffering, you snapped a little again.

"Then what was it like? You had your hand up my shirt, Kook!"

Your voice had unintentionally softened at his nickname, and he caught it, biting back a grin as you hugged the sheet over you just a little more snugly.

"It was kind of your fault, noona," he smirked, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck.

You shot him a quizzical and unamused look.

"I came in here to wake you up and you pulled me into bed. You kept calling me someone else's name...and..." he giggled, "'Baby', and you kept insisting we sleep for just five more minutes."

You gaped at him in horror.

"You pulled my arm over you," he continued, now a bit smugly, "And I had literally just woken up, so...being so comfy...well, I guess I fell back to sleep with you."

You could feel the heat in your face. You had a history of pretty intense sleep talking, but you hadn't experienced it to that extent in years. You considered that you must have slept deeply as you stammered your apology.

"Oh my god, Jungkook...I'm so sorry - that's horrifying - I didn't mean to..."

The younger man just laughed in response, breaking into his signature luminous smile. His eyes glimmered.

"Didn't mean to steal my bed, demand cuddles, and then beat the heck out of me?"

You let out a sigh.

"Sorry."

He nodded, a little smile still tugging at his lips.

"I accept your apology for the bruises...but not the cuddles. Those were nice."

He threw a wink over his shoulder as he headed for the door, and you tossed a pillow and a string of expletives after him as he jogged, giggling, toward the kitchen. Still flustered and a bit thrown, you changed into real clothes before joining the others in the breakfast table. Rosie was placing mayak eggs alongside the piles of bacon and pancakes as you pulled out a chair next to Jiah.

"You slept well! You must have been exhausted," Rosie remarked, handing you a mug of coffee.

"Yeah, must have," Jungkook quipped with a smirk as he snagged three strips of bacon.

You shot him a warning look as you stabbed demonstratively into a stack of pancakes, but his grin only deepened.

"I thought you weren't supposed to be back until the weekend," you addressed him coolly.

"Mm," he took a sip of orange juice. "I actually wasn't really supposed to be back until next week. I expected to head north to see a friend but she ended up being out of town, so I just came straight back."

"A friend, huh?" Jiah crooned patronizingly, as she twirled a fork in his direction.

Her brother nodded.

"The same one you were talking to on the phone very loudly when you came in last night?"

Jungkook scrunched his nose, sticking out the tip of his tongue in her direction.

"Wow," she drawled, "How very adult of you. And for the record, friends don't call each other 'baby'."

Jungkook snickered, glancing at you again before he mumbled, "Some friends do..."

"So, Jiah - " you practically shouted, as you turned toward her in a desperate bid to change the topic of conversation, "You gonna show me the new place today, or what?"

"The restaurant? If you let her drag you out there, she'll put you to work and you'll never be seen again," Jungkook hummed over an entire egg that he had pocketed in his cheek, casting teasing eyes up at his sister, who smiled back wickedly.

"You know, Kookie, it's just so good to have you home! We needed someone who puts in those gym hours to do a bit of the heavy lifting."

Jungkook flashed another smile, puffing his chest and massaging his pectorals as Jiah feigned a gag.

You chuckled, and Jungkook grinned as he tucked into his pancakes.

Watching the two of them bicker and catch up, you realized that things felt a bit more whole again - familiar, if different. You considered that maybe the three of you could all fall back into stride. Maybe this summer wouldn't be so bad after all.

After breakfast you gathered your things to head next door. You tried to slip out quietly, to avoid Rosie stalling you any further, but Jungkook caught you as he was coming around from the garage, an oil towel in his grease-stained hands.

"You leaving?" he asked with a tinge of disappointment.

"I can't over-stay my welcome," you shrugged, smiling wryly.

His face took on a serious expression.

"You know you're always welcome here, yeah? It's good to have you back," he pressed earnestly.

You nodded, touched because you knew he meant it and that the other two members of his family shared the same sentiment. Jungkook wiped his hands on the towel casting a look over at the house next door.

"You staying there?"

You nodded. His brow creased and the corners of his mouth turned down.

"Okay. You can come here whenever."

"I know," you said softly.

His eyes looked worried and uncertain. You dropped your bag and pulled him into a hug.

"It's so good to see you again, Jungkook-ah," you murmured, dropping your head against his chest.

His arms squeezed around you in return. He had always preferred to talk with his body instead of his words. Every playful punch, or little shove, or squeeze of his hand carried a message. This one meant it was good to see you too.

As you waved goodbye you counted the Jeons' welcome among your blessings - not everything you had left behind would be so welcome to recall. But, life hadn't left you with many choices. So you began the long walk to the house next door.

-End Chapter 1-

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