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TEMPORARY FRAGMENTS— jeon jungkook (2).

summary: When you meet Jungkook— an older man who is amazing in bed, you thought it would be a simple arrangement of casual sex. Except things start getting serious and before you know he’s asking you on dates and introducing you to his daughter… Of course, he doesn’t know that you’re bad with kids and never wanted one of your own— well, at least it was just something temporary… right?

pairing: business! fem reader x dad! jeon jungkook

genre/warning: fluff, crack, smut, angst / a lot of themes like insecurity, jealousy, death, dysfunctional family, etc. — This chapter contains a lot of sexual talk/scenes (fingering, penetration, dirty talk). Read under your own discretion

chapters: intro; one; two; three; four; five; six; seven; eight; nine; ten; eleven; twelve; thirteen; fourteen; fifteen; sixteen; seventeen; eighteen; epilogue.

It was almost five in the morning when you stepped out of the town car in full couture and stilettos and nearly tripped over a pigeon. You adjusted your dress, a midnight blue Valentino that cost more than most cars, and started toward the glowing yellow “M” of a McDonald’s at the corner of the empty avenue. Already feeling tired of all the movement of the day.

“Regal,” Bohyung murmured, holding the door open like the perfect gentleman he was. “Very Grace Kelly meets city vermin.”

You flipped him off with manicured precision. Se-hoo followed behind, barefoot and holding her heels in one hand, her updo slightly unraveling. Now her hair was blonde. “This is how the Roman Empire ended, you know. Arugula soufflé at midnight, then fries at dawn.”

“Good,” you muttered. “Let it burn.”

Inside, the place was blissfully empty except for one kid asleep at a table and a cashier who blinked twice before realizing three severely overdressed adults had entered his domain.

“Table for three, darling,” Bohyung said, with a wink. “And a round of hash browns, keep ‘em coming.”

Of course, you didn’t need a host to take you to your table. Your friend was just kidding. So when you finish ordering, the three of you took a seat next to the window to sit comfortably and wait for the food. You wanted to take out your shoes and take a pill to sleep until next week. The night had been exhausting, too many uncomfortable situations to handle, even for you. Luckily, the food didn’t took too much to be done. And Bohyung went to get it for all of you.

You didn’t speak until your Diet Coke arrived. “If my mother mentions my posture one more time I’m legally changing my name and joining a cult.”

“She does have a thing for shoulders,” Bohyung nodded. “It’s almost… sexual.”

Se-hoo made a face, poking at her McMuffin. “Let’s not unpack that. Ever.”

The three of you sat in the corner booth, sleeves rolled up, zippers slightly undone, glittering jewelry catching the faint buzz of fluorescent light. Around you, the world was quiet. Street cleaners, the occasional bus. Somewhere a cab honked, but it felt far away. You three were in that strange, suspended hour where time didn’t really exist.

“So,” your blonde friend said, unwrapping a cheeseburger with disturbing elegance. “Tonight was… what? A six out of ten?”

“Generous,” you said. “I’d say a four. The wine was warm. The speeches were endless. And did you see my cousin talking to that crypto guy like she was pitching a Netflix deal?”

Bohyung snorted. “I was more concerned with your aunt whispering to everyone that you’re ‘still young, still beautiful, there’s still time.’ Like a fertility countdown.”

“She’s obsessed with wombs,” Se-hoo deadpanned. “I think she thinks if you don’t use it, it shrivels.”

“Let it shrivel,” you said, raising your cup. “I’ll donate it to science and go on a yacht.”

You clinked your drinks together, laughing.

Then Bohyung leaned forward. “Hey, are you still going to see Rosa’s next week?”

Your smile softened, just slightly. “Yeah. Wednesday, probably. I couldn’t see her last week and I already feel like I want to cry about it.”

“She’s been okay?”

“As okay as she can be. She forgets sometimes. Some days she thinks I’m still twelve.”

Se-hoo reached across the table and touched your hand briefly. “Want company?”

You shook your head. “No. It’s fine. She’d probably try to feed you both soup and yell at your bad Italian.”

“She always liked Jungwoo,” Bohyung said casually, sipping his coffee.

You looked away, but the silence was warm, not heavy. “Yeah,” you said softly. “He always went with me.”

They didn’t push. Just let the moment pass, like you all always did. It wasn’t that Jungwoo was a delicate subject. After all, you both ended the relationship in good terms, but it was always a little spine when talking about ex’s. Specially one who was planned to be your forever. But now it was a subject that was already finished. You both had moved on.

Suddenly you phone buzzed on the table. You picked it up and saw the name. A little confused on why someone would text you that early if your office opened at eight.

Jungkook: Hey, are you busy tonight?

You raised an eyebrow. “Subtle.”

Bohyung leaned over. “Is that your tattooed dilf?”

You didn’t answer. Just typed:

Y/n: I’m out. Free now if you’re down

Jungkook: Come over then

You grinned.

“Oh my God,” he said. “You’re going.”

“You never do the post-event hookup,” Se-hoo added, delighted. “You’re always in full-body Spanx and Clonax mode.”

“Well,” you said, standing, smoothing your dress like you were about to strut a runway, “I’m not staying to listen to you both psychoanalyze my uterus.”

Bohyung cackled. “Tell him to hide the Legos.”

“Or the kid,” Se-hoo added.

“She’s with her mother, probably asleep,” you said, grabbing your purse. “Which is the exact state I like children in. Silent. Horizontal. Preferably unconscious.”

They laughed and booed you, Bohyung threw a fry at your back as you walked to the door. “Be safe!” he called.

“Don’t get emotionally attached!”

You flipped them both off behind your back and waved for a cab.

Outside, the city was just starting to stir, that strange early hush before the chaos. And for a second— a short, strange second— you thought about the fact that you used to go home with Jungwoo after these things. That you’d take off your fancy clothes and sit on the kitchen floor with wine and leftover cake, talking about the day or politics or people you hated… Now you were going somewhere else. To someone else… But that someone else wasn’t him, and that someone else wasn’t serious.

You smirked at the thought. No strings. Just fun. You didn’t like kids. You didn’t do emotional complications when you weren’t looking for a relationship. You liked clean exits and smart men and good sex. And Jungkook? He we was exactly that. And he was just a chapter…

It didn’t take you too long to arrive at his house. Probably 20 minutes ride before you were ringing his doorbell and a second before he opened it for you. He was wearing some sweatpants and a compress shirt that embraced him in all the right places. You smiled slightly and he looked at you from your head to your toes, an expression you knew very well from men.

“Wow,” Jungkook let out a breath.

“I know. Don’t get too close, though. I smell like Mcdonald’s.”

“You dress like this to go to McDo?” he smirked. “You look amazing… Should I always make you come over at five in the morning?.”

You snorted before walking in, pushing your body to his and closing the door with your heel. “Why don’t you make me come first?.”

He smirked. “I can do that.”

“Show me then.”

Jungkook grabbed you by the head and kissed you hard. His lips were moving slow, but the kiss felt desperate. Two people looking to kill some stress out of their system. And one thing you really like about him was how he always seemed to want you in such a desperate way, even if he was taking control of the situation.

His hands slowly moved down to your waist, pressing you against his body. Your hands slid down to his hair, your fingers sinking into his hair so you could pull him closer to you, if it was even possible. Jungkook moved forward until he hit you against the door. A small gasp escaped your lips as your back hit the cold wood. His lips moved to your chin and slowly moved down to your neck, gently biting your skin.

You let out a sigh as Jungkook’s hands found the straps of your dress, his fingers delicately trailing down them off your shoulders. His lips met yours again, kissing you slowly before parting slightly so he could look you in the eyes.

“You look breathtaking with that dress,” he kissed you on the mouth one more time. “But even better without it.”

Jungkook’s fingers trailed the dress down until it dropped to your feet, taking your Spanx with it. You let a breathy laugh before kissing him again.

You could feel how hot you were for him. The way his hands were running over your body, the way he touched you. He made you feel great, he made you lose your mind a little bit. He made you not think about anything else and that was something you loved. And you liked the way he touched you, the way he always showed you how much he wanted to pleasure you. There was always something in his touch, like he had been waiting for you. Like he liked having you this way, so vulnerable in his hands.

Jungkook took his right hand down your body, the tip of his fingers tracing your skin from your shoulder to your hip before going down to your right tight, slowly grabbing the back so he could put it around his waist. You hold it there. He pressed his hips to yours, making you feel his bulge in your core. You press your lips trying not to make a sound when he start humping you slowly. You could feel his hard over his sweatpants, your panties getting wet for the way he was touching you there.

Your left hand travelled from his hair to his sweatpants, trying to take them off. He took your hand immediately. Smiling slightly over your lips.

“Relax, pretty. I want you to soaked my fingers first.”

Jungkook gave you a peck before leaving your hand in his cheek. He got apart a little, enough to move his hands to your core. His fingers moved down to your center, his thumb starting to rub your clit on top of your underwear. When his fingers started getting wet and your panties soaked, he pull away his fingers, leaving a wet spot in your underwear. Jungkook took two fingers to his mouth, licking them slowly before looking at you.

“Sweet. I wanna taste you.”

“Why don’t you fuck me first.”

You grabbed his hair to kiss him again. His mouth met yours in a deep and hard kiss. It was slow and full of purpose, like he wanted to map every inch of you with the taste of it. His hand slid down your back, anchoring you to him, and you melted, reluctantly, hungrily, against him. You moaned on his mouth when he presses you harder against him, his hard and clothed cock pressing against your cunt.

Your hands move to Jungkook's hair to grip down on the soft locks and when you tug a little harder than you meant to, you're meet with a low moan coming from him. When his slick muscle of his tongue slips into with mouth to find yours a whine slips from your throat, he was tasting you. Every part of it. Your eyes flutter for a second, you can almost feel the throb of his cock as the only barrier on was your panties and his thin sweatpants. It was almost too much. You were soaking his pants.

Jungkook's hand slide down, large palm gripping onto your bare thigh to keep it around his waist, he lowered a little to hit you perfectly. He took an experimental thrust of his hips, both of you shuddering from the feeling of it.

“But this isn’t enough, huh. You want a real fuck?” Jungkook voice was low. His breath on your mouth. You let out a rush nod, lips seeking his out when he grinds down a little harder. “Of course you do. Always greedy— But you will take what I give you. You’ll take anything I give yo— Shit, uh, right, baby?.”

You can feel your own slick against your core and inner thighs as Jungkook keeps his pace, hard and slow. His fingers gripping your tight hard, almost leaving a mark. His other hand grabbed your jaw, making you stay in the place he wanted. You throw your head back when he leans down, mouthing at your collar bone, his wet, wet tongue leaving trails when he licks up your skin, biting a little bit. Your breath hitches when he bites down a little hard. You let out a pitiful moan when his hips pick up a rougher movement, thrusting hard into yours. His chest pressed against yours, his hands grabbing at your hips roughly and his face buried into your neck.

Jungkook thrusts his hips upwards, the new angle hitting your clit perfectly. You can feel the outline of his cock perfectly even through the pants… And you have enough. You want him to fill you up, you want him to fuck you hard.

So you push him, a little hard so he can look at you. “Jungkook. Please, fuck me already.”

He stop, almost freezing. And you don’t know exactly the reason why until his eyes look at you and a slow smirk starts growing on his face.

“You want me to fuck you?” he whispers before making you jump on him. Your legs wrapped around his thin waist. Jungkook looks at you, eyes dark and wild. “Say please again, baby.”

“Shut up.” You said while he walks you to his bedroom, his smirk not leaving his face.

“Nah, uh. Say it again.” He pushes you down on the bed and sits upon his knees, taking your panties with roughness. You look at him, holding you up with your elbows. Jungkook. He pushes his pants down with one hand, the other one lowering himself to kiss your lips with a hard peck. “Beg a little for me.” he quickly grabs a condom of his nightstand before going back to the same position. “Say ‘please’, baby.”

“Jungkook—”

“You want me or no?” before you could blink up at him, you feel the slide of his hot thick cock against your folds. Your breath hitches and his hands find your tights, gripping them hard to pull you closer to him.

Jungkook hums in appreciation and drags his cock against your cunt, letting your slick coat his thick length. You moaned in his mouth when he drags his tip a little slower over your clit, the hood pulling back and the swollen little button gains more fraction.

“I swear—”

“Beg,” his voice is rough, and he cocks his head as he gives a hard drag of his cock against your clit.

“Okay— shit,” you sigh, too hot to even be bothered to say the words again. “Please, fuck me.”

“Again. Louder.”

“Please, fuck me.”

“You can do better.” He pouts, mocking.

“Fuck. Please, Jungkook!.”

“That’s better.” His wide eyes watch your face as he grips down on your hips and thrusts into you as hard as he can.

Your back arches, and you let a moan scape out of your lips. And he loves the way you feel around him. He falls a little into you, his chest touching yours, one hands pressing hard against the mattress and the other one grabbing your thigh with strength. Your legs wrapping around his waist to pull him closer as possible.

“Ugh, Shit— Jungkook.”

“Scream louder for me, baby," he demands to you and drags his cock out of you, just until the tip is the only thing in, before slamming back into you. A choked moan escapes your lips as he repeats the action, harder. “Shit, you feel so good. So good— Fuck, do you like it?. Am I making you feel good?…”

“Stop talking” you groaned, “fuck me harder.”

You were going to be the dead of him.

Jungkook does as you wish. He fuck you, he slams his hips harder into you. The sound of skin slapping against yours is pure filth. Your bodies pressed together so tight and his face buried into your neck, biting down to hear you again. He looks at where your bodies met and a filthy thought of filling you with his cum swims on his mind. He groans, imagining how you would feel raw.

He snaps his hips harder against yours. Again, again, and again.

You could feel the ache blooming low in your lower stomach, the fluttering pulse of wanting—of needing something that was coming. And Jungkook noticed. He notices the way you wrapped around him, the way your eyes roll back, the way you tighten around his dick. He tugs at your hair until you're looking up at him, he presses himself, flush against you and rolls his hips into yours, all while his hooded eyes stare down at you.

“Yeah?. Come for me, pretty.” He whispers in your mouth. “Look at me, come around me…”

Your nails scratched his back, digging into the toned muscle and you know there's going to be red marks all over later. Jungkook lets out a groan when your walls squeezed his length so tightly that his eyes roll to the back of his head for a moment.

You come. And it doesn’t take too long for him to do so too. Jungkook rolls to the side until his back hits the bed, taking you with him so you can collapse on top.

Sweat dripping down his body and yours. Breathing too heavy. He’s still inside you. And it takes you two some minutes to calm down. His fingers creasing the small of your back, your head against his chest. It felt good, coming from the high. Both taking the time to recover from such an intense act. It always felt good, even the aftercare.

After some minutes you move to the other side of the bed. Sighing tiredly before looking at him.

“I think I need a shower.”

Jungkook snorts before smiling, looking at you. “Use my bathroom, I’ll use the other one.”

“Deal.”

It wasn't the first time you used Jungkook's shower. There had already been several occasions when you took a bath before going home, especially when you two got together with time. Specially those week. However, this time you didn’t have a clothes change or anything and you realized about it when you finish your shower, looking around with his towel around you to look for your dress again. Knowing you weren’t going to home with your dirty panties.

You opened the door to tell him about maybe borrow some of his but chuckled when you found some clothes over his bed ready for you. Your dress nowhere in sight. You were one hundred percent sure that he had put your dress and underwear to wash already. You put the clothes and tried to dry your hair with the towel as much as you could before throwing it to the dirty basket.

You stretched, a little sore. Before walking to out of the room.

The room was quiet except for the soft hum of the refrigerator and the occasional creak of the old pipes in the walls. You padded barefoot across the hardwood floor, wearing nothing but an oversized black T-shirt and a pair of thin cotton underwear— his boxers— that had started to slip as you reached for the glass. You didn’t care. Not here. Not with him.

You filled two glasses from the filtered pitcher and glanced at the dim light of the kitchen clock. It was almost 7 a.m. The city outside was still rubbing its eyes. Jungkook walked into the kitchen a moment later, hair a wet mess, T-shirt clinging to his chest, grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips. A small towel in his hand. He looked like something out of a Calvin Klein ad, except warmer. More real.

“You’re already stealing my water,” he said, voice gravel-thick.

You held out one of the glasses. “You were literally just inside me. I think the water’s fair game.”

He took it, smiling. “Can’t argue with that logic.”

You two leaned against opposite counters, quiet for a moment as you sipped the water. The air between you two was lazy now, comfortable. Your bodies relaxed, your skin still faintly warm.

Jungkook ran the towel through his hair and nodded toward you. “Why the hell were you awake at five in the morning? Or did you just never go to sleep?”

“Gala,” you said, with a sigh. “My parents throw one every spring. It’s this ridiculous charity auction-slash-brand showcase thing. Everyone’s overdressed and pretending they care about public housing while drinking champagne worth more than their monthly rent.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Sounds classy.”

“Oh, it’s hideous. But the canapés were decent.”

He chuckled. “So you left a black-tie gala to eat McNuggets and then come here?”

“Technically I had a cheeseburger,” you corrected. “But yes. That’s the summary.”

Jungkook tilted his head, leaving the towel over his right shoulder. “You always do that? Fancy event followed by post-party hookup?”

“No,” you said honestly, looking down at your glass. You thought about Jungwoo for a second. “Usually I just go home, take off the Spanx, and sleep for ten hours. This was… spontaneous.”

He studied you, quiet for a beat. “I like spontaneous.”

You glanced up at him. “You seem like someone who plans his grocery trips three weeks in advance.”

“I do,” he said without shame. “I’ve got a kid. My life runs on calendars and fruit snacks. But… spontaneity has its charm.”

You two smiled at each other, then fell into another lull. The kind that didn’t feel heavy. Just… real.

“So why were you up?” you asked, breaking the silence.

Jungkook leaned his head against the cabinet behind him. “Couldn’t sleep. Too much going on in my head. Shop stuff. Sunni stuff. Life.”

You nodded, thoughtful. “Isn’t it weird how you can be dead tired and still feel like your brain’s at a rave?”

“Exactly.”

You two stood there, sipping water like two slightly feral adults who had no intention of pretending to be normal right now. You turned and hopped onto the kitchen counter. You had an average height, but the countertop made your legs dangle slightly, which annoyed you a little bit. Jungkook leaned against the opposite side, watching you.

You squinted. “Okay. Be honest. What’s the dumbest tattoo idea someone’s ever come in with?”

He laughed, hard. “Oh man. Where do I start? The guy who wanted a ‘live, laugh, lube’ tramp stamp?”

You choked on your water. “Shut up.”

“I wish I could. Or the girl who wanted an infinity symbol made of spaghetti.”

“Wait” you paused, very deep in thought. “That’s kind of brilliant.”

“I told her it was existential. She cried.”

You giggled, swinging your legs. “God, people are insane.”

“But also kind of great,” Jungkook said, still smiling. “The stories, the weird moments, they make it worth it.”

You nodded. “Yeah. I guess when people care too much about looking cool, they stop being interesting.”

He raised an eyebrow, impressed. “That’s a good one. Write that down.”

“I will,” you said, half-joking. “Put it on a tote bag and everything.”

Jungkook walked a little closer, glass still in hand, watching you with something softer in his eyes now. “You’re smart,” he said, without thinking.

You blinked. “I know.”

He smiled. “No, like, I mean, I knew you were clever. But you’re… quietly smart. You see things.”

You tilted your head, wary. A little confused what comment of yours made him said that. “Are you flirting with my intellect?”

“Guilty.”

“That’s dangerously close to intimacy.”

He grinned. “Relax. I’ll be emotionally unavailable by breakfast.”

You both laughed, and something in the room shifted. Not in a heavy way, but like a puzzle piece had just quietly slid into place. Neither of you pointed it out. But it was there. You jumped down from the counter, walked past him, and set your glass in the sink. He followed you back to the bedroom. You didn’t have sex again. You just climbed into the bed and lay there, both of you on your backs, quietly breathing in the stillness of early morning. You thought yourself you were waiting for your clothes to dry out to leave. You realized it was the first morning you were spending with him after agreeing of the casual sex arrangement. But you didn’t give that thought too much mind.

You turned your head toward him. “Do you ever think about what you’d be doing if you didn’t have a kid?”

Jungkook looked up at the ceiling. “Sure. But I never imagine it better. Just different.”

You nodded. “I like that answer.”

He turned to look at you, his hand resting just a few inches from yours. “What about you? Ever think about the version of yourself who went corporate law instead of restaurants?”

“All the time,” you whispered. “She’s probably divorced with a ski house in Aspen and a drinking problem.”

Jungkook smiled in the dark. “Sounds boring.”

“Painfully,” you agreed. A pause. Then you murmured, “You know, you’re kind of great at this.”

He glanced over. “At what?”

“Just talking.”

He huffed a laugh. “That’s not what you said earlier.”

You rolled your eyes. “That was me being horny, not a formal review.” He chuckled. And then, after a minute, you added, quieter, “I mean it, though. You’re good at making people feel safe,” you smiled tiredly. “I guess it comes in your Dad profile.”

He didn’t say anything right away. Just reached over, touched your fingers lightly. It wasn’t a grab, just a trace… and then let his hand rest between you two.

You both fell asleep like that. Nothing said. Nothing declared. But something… slightly shifted. And neither of you could unfeel it. And it was the first time you slept over after declaring it was just an arrangement of casual sex. The first time the blur of casual was happening.

———

The day was warm in a way that made you resent spring. Not hot enough to sweat, but just humid enough to turn your blouse into a sauna and your hair into a delicate halo of expensive chaos. You stood outside the restaurant’s loading dock entrance in four-inch heels, barking into your phone with your sunglasses pushed up your forehead like a crown of passive aggression.

“No, I don’t care if the mushroom guy swears he sent us shiitakes—he sent button mushrooms, Vince, and if you think I’m putting that on the primavera, you’ve lost your mind and your palate.” A pause. “No. Send them back. He can climb into his little mushroom van and cry all the way home, but I’m not serving mediocrity”

You hung up before he could whine.

Inside, the kitchen staff moved like clockwork. Organized chaos, clatter and steam, the music on low and the scent of garlic and herbs threading through the air like a symphony. You walked through like you were born in motion, offering sharp, kind greetings as you passed. You were glad the AC was always on in the place.

“Antonio, the garlic confit looks stunning, thank you.”

“Maya, did your kid win the spelling bee? You promised me updates.”

“Bomgyu, I told you to not wear those damn earrings with the uniform. You look fifteen.”

And then you stopped short in the hallway between the wine cellar and the manager office. There was a familiar vase of flowers on the table. White ranunculus, blue thistle, tiny orange roses. You blinked, a little caught off guard. You turned to your new assistant, a twitchy twenty-something named Lila who idolized you and kept a spreadsheet of everyone’s birthdays, even from the people who worked in the restaurants.

“You remembered my Nonna’s flowers,” you said, a little too surprised.

Lila beamed. “You mention one time she always said the orange ones brought good luck. I figured you had a long day coming.”

You stared at the arrangement for a moment, then smiled. “You’re good.”

“I’m underpaid.”

“That too.” You pointed at her. “I like you.”

By late afternoon, you were sliding into the passenger seat of Bohyung’s matte black convertible with a coffee in one hand and your phone in the other. Your sunglasses were sliding off so you tuck them in your purse, your blouse tucked neatly into high-waisted pants, and you looked—as always— like you belonged on the cover of some aggressively chic magazine titled Dominate. Bohyung looked like trouble in linen. Hair perfectly styled, watch glinting in the sun, an iced tea sweating in the cupholder— and another drink for you—. He handed you a pair of heart-shaped sunglasses from the dashboard.

“I’m not wearing that shit.”

“They match your attitude.”

You put them on. “Bitch.”

“Princess.”

You pulled out into traffic, the breeze light and the city loud as always.

“So,” you asked, crossing one leg over the other, “what are we looking for exactly? Minimalist loft? Sleek mid-century penthouse? Or are you finally going full cottagecore and getting a lemon tree field?”

“I’m torn between ‘man of taste’ and ‘man of trauma,’” he replied, flicking his turn signal. “But honestly? I just want a place where I don’t hear my upstairs neighbor doing Zumba at midnight.”

“Sounds personal.”

“It’s spiritual warfare. She’s seventy. I think she has tap shoes.”

You laughed, tossing you hair back. “You know you’ll end up somewhere with exposed brick and one sad fern you keep forgetting to water.”

“Excuse you, Fernie is thriving.”

“He’s dead, Bohyung.”

“A little crispy. There’s a difference.”

You cruised through the city, turning down quieter streets. The light was soft now, golden and slanting sideways across storefronts and balconies.

After a moment, your friend spoke again. “I met someone.”

Your eyebrows rose slightly. “Define ‘met.’”

“She almost hit me with her Prius.”

“Romantic.”

“She was parallel parking and I was texting. Honestly, it was kind of my fault. But she jumped out of the car in this huge scarf, like something out of a French noir, and immediately started yelling at me in a British accent.”

“I’m listening.”

“We ended up having coffee while waiting for my heart rate to stabilize. Her name’s Margot. She teaches film history. Has opinions about Truffaut and refuses to drink iced coffee after October.”

You blinked. “Is she…real?”

“I think so. She poked me to check.”

There was a quiet beat. Then you smiled. “You like her.”

“I might,” Bohyung admitted, adjusting the rearview mirror. “She’s weird in the right ways. And she called me ‘aesthetic poison’ with that weird accent which, frankly, it kinda turned me on.”

You snorted. “You’re such a freak.”

“You love me.”

“Unfortunately.”

You both pulled up in front of a narrow building with modern lines and too many plants on the balcony. Bohyung killed the engine but didn’t get out right away.

“You ever think about it?” he asked suddenly.

“About what?”

“Moving. Starting over. New apartment, new vibe, new view.”

You leaned your head back against the seat. “I don’t know. I like my place, it feels like a museum. Or like—an airport lounge that became sentient but it’s mine.”

He looked over at you. “You’ve had the same place since Jungwoo.”

“I know.” Another quiet moment. You looked out the window. “But it was always mine— or at least it’s mine now. I like my routine. I like knowing where the mugs are. Where the creaky floorboard is. I like the silence.”

“Yeah,” Bohyung said softly. “But sometimes silence isn’t peace. It’s just noise you’re used to.”

You didn’t respond right away. Just stared out at the street, then finally turned to him and smiled. “You’ve been reading poetry again, haven’t you?” you raised an eyebrow. “Your new girl got you reading again?.”

He grinned. “Shut up.”

You climbed out of the car, laughing again. You adjusted your sunglasses and looked up at the building. “Alright. Let’s judge some real estate.”

The real estate agent was fifteen minutes late. Bohyung had already knocked twice on the glass front door like a polite criminal before giving up and declaring, “We’re breaking and entering. If I go to jail, you’re posting bail and picking the mugshot.”

You leaned against the building’s sandstone façade, sipping your lukewarm iced coffee. “If you go to jail, I’m starting a GoFundMe and telling everyone it was insider trading.”

“Better than tax fraud.”

“We both know it wouldn’t be fraud. You’re too obsessive. You file before the fiscal year starts.”

“Okay, fair.”

The agent finally arrived, breathless, apologetic, wearing a blazer two sizes too big and a permanent smile that made your skin crawl. Bohyung was unfazed. He’d already pulled up the unit’s tax history and HOA fees on his phone before you two even walked in.

“I have a feeling you’ll love this space,” the agent chirped, unlocking the front door.

Your friend didn’t even glance at her. “Don’t oversell it, Stacey. Let the poor walls speak for themselves. I already know this game.”

You stifled a laugh and followed him in. The unit was on the third floor, high enough to avoid street noise, low enough that Bohyung wouldn’t “accidentally die” hauling groceries. It opened into a spacious living area with tall ceilings, exposed brick on one wall, and arched windows that poured in buttery sunlight.

“Oh,” you said, impressed despite yourself. “It’s giving… adult man who has his life together and also maybe cries to jazz sometimes.”

“Exactly what I’m going for,” he said, stepping inside like he was already king of the castle. “I want it to say, ‘I own linen napkins’ but also ‘I’ve emotionally healed.’”

“You’ll need a rug,” you said, eyeing the hardwood floors. “The acoustics in here are going to sound like an AA meeting for ghosts.”

Bohyung wandered into the open kitchen. Modern, sleek, matte black cabinetry and brass fixtures. He ran a hand across the marble countertop and whistled. “I’ve made worse decisions for less square footage,” he murmured.

You opened a cabinet. “Soft-close. You could throw a tantrum in here and still be elegant.”

He shot you a look. “We don’t all throw tantrums in kitchens, my love.”

“One time. I threw one plate. And I was twenty-three.”

“It was a Versace charger.”

“It was chipped.”

“It was Jungwoo’s favorite.”

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t psychoanalyze my crockery choices.” You moved into the hallway, past a small office nook and two bedrooms. The master had a walk-in closet that you immediately stepped into and spun around, arms wide. “This is bigger than my first dorm room,” you declared.

Bohyung leaned against the doorway. “That dorm room was disgusting.”

“We had charm.”

“You had mold.”

“Whatever. You still snuck in through the fire escape every other night.”

He smirked. “Because I couldn’t stand my roommate. He played acoustic guitar at 3 a.m. and said things like ‘capitalism is a prison but also my dad owns a yacht.’”

You laughed, loud and full, the kind of laugh that cracked the glossy topcoat of your usual poise. You two sat down on the marble floor. No furniture yet, just sunlight and the soft echo of space.

“So,” Bohyung said, after a pause. “What do you think?”

“I think it suits you,” you said honestly. “It’s warm. It’s clean. It has personality. And you won’t be woken up by tap shoes.”

“I’m gonna have to fix it a lot, The floor, the walls…” He exhaled, his expression softening. “But I’m ready for something new.”

You looked at him. “You really are.”

A quiet moment passed between you two. Then he leaned in and nudged your shoulder. “You know, when we were sixteen, I always thought we’d end up living in the same apartment building. You in a penthouse, me in the garden unit, trading lovers like vinyl records.”

“Please. My lesbian phase was over the third month and you’d have stolen all my conditioner.”

“Your lesbian phase was iconic and I did steal your conditioner.”

“Never dating a lesbian fem again. Some nights I still think about her,” you smiled before touching his hair with your fingers. “ And you still smell like honey and cashmere.”

He winked. “Only for you.”

“You’re only for me.”

You two smiled before standing up and wandered back to the living room, where the agent was nervously scrolling through her tablet like a Sim whose needs weren’t being met.

Bohyung clapped his hands together. “I’ll take it.”

The agent’s face lit up. “Just like that?”

You, arms crossed, smiled slowly. “He knows what he wants. And also, he already pulled your building records and spoke to the HOA president on LinkedIn. This tour was theater.”

Bohyung grinned. “We’re dramatic like that.”

As you two stepped outside again, the sun had shifted to its late-afternoon slant, warm and golden on the pavement.

“You gonna help me move in?” he asked.

“I’ll supervise,” you said. “With champagne. And judgment.”

He laughed. “I wasn’t expecting more.” You stood on the sidewalk a moment longer, easy in the silence. Then he said, “You know… you’ve been different lately.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Define different.”

“I don’t know. Softer. Calmer. Less likely to throw cutlery.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Are you implying I’ve become… reasonable?”

He smirked. “No. Just calmer, less tense.”

“Uhm,” you shrugged. “Sex is good.”

He snorted. “Of course, the dilf.”

“Shut up and let’s go eat something. I’m starving.”

Bohyung rolled his eyes before nodding. “Come one, I’ll take you to a high-elegant, five start restaurant.”

Half an hour later you arrived at the place.

The restaurant was one of those too-cool places in Downtown. All warm lighting, exposed wood, hand-thrown ceramic plates, and wine menus written in cursive so delicate it might’ve been penned by angels. Bohyung had chosen it, of course. “It’s not even on Google Maps yet,” he’d joked, pushing the door open like he owned it. “Very exclusive, very sustainable. Everyone who eats here is either very rich, or pretending to be.” You laughed at his jokes, knowing how he liked to joked about your work like he didn’t know the places when he had been the one to help you choose where to build them and like he hadn’t eat there over a thousand times already.

You followed behind him like a cat being led by someone you secretly liked. The day had run long, your head was still full of floor plans and color palettes and HOA fees, and all you really wanted was a glass of red wine and three different kinds of carbs.

You were halfway to your table when Bohyung stopped short, turning around with a surprised smile. “Well, look who’s not doing Zumba tonight.”

You blinked, following his gaze. And there, at a table by the window, sat Jungkook and another man you hadn’t met. Jungkook looked up from the wine list, eyebrows arching in something between amusement and disbelief. He looked like he always did: relaxed, clean but a little rumpled, his tattooed arm exposed in a simple henley, a silver ring on his thumb catching the light as he raised his glass. The man across from him— his friend, presumably— had the kind of lazy charm that came with being both too attractive and too comfortable with that fact.

You were caught off guard, but not unpleasantly. You tucked your hair behind your ear, then stepped forward.

“Small world,” Jungkook said, voice low and amused.

“We were just coming in for dinner,” you said casually.

Jungkook stood and leaned forward slightly, gesturing between you and his friend. “Jimin, this is Y/n.”

Jimin’s eyebrows lifted just slightly before stretching his hand to you. A smile forming in his plump and red lips “Nice to meet you”

“Likewise.”

Your friend. stepped in. “I’m Bohyung, best friend and estate acquisitions if you’re looking for something new to buy.”

Jimin grinned. “Park Jimin, broke tattoo whisperer and unwilling babysitter.”

“And Bohyung, this is Jungkook.”

“Nice to met you” your friend pretend he hadn’t seen the guy weeks ago in that bar. Hot enough for him to recognize after all that time.

“Nice to meet you too.”

The two men shook hands, and then there was a brief moment, the kind of social micro-glitch, where everyone realized this could be awkward, or funny, or both.

Jungkook broke it. “You two want to join us?”

You blinked. “Are you sure? We don’t want to bother.”

Your friend shrugged, already sliding into the seat across from Jimin. “Well now we have to say yes or look like snobs.”

“Which we absolutely are,” your muttered under your breath, but followed him anyway.

The waiter appeared as you two settled, and Bohyun— ever the host, even at a table that wasn’t his— waved toward the wine. “We’ll take another bottle of what these two are drinking. Unless you’re drinking something horrifying like chilled red.”

Jungkook raised his glass. “White Rioja. You’ll live.”

You leaned back, studying him for a beat. “Your taste surprises me.”

“I get that a lot,” he said, smiling.

You shook your head before looking at the waiter. “We’ll take a bottle of Masseto Toscana” you said.

“Yea, ma’am.”

The two men in front of you tried not to made an obvious face of the wine you order. Not when ten minutes ago they were laughing about never ordering that wine because it was too expensive, specially when it had the same effect that all wines had. You clearly didn’t have the same mindset.

The waiter left after taking yours and Bohyung’s order, and the table found a quiet rhythm, initial discomfort smoothing into something slower, more curious. You were four very different people, like someone had taken two different movie casts and dropped them into the same restaurant scene without warning.

“So,” Bohyung said, “how do you two know each other?” he pretended not to know.

You and Jungkook exchanged a glance. It wasn’t scandalous just… charged. The wine quickly arrived, Jungkook was quick to purred you a glass.

“Bar,” you said.

Jimin snorted. You had an idea that maybe he already knew too.

Your friend raised an eyebrow. “How Victorian.”

“We had drinks,” Jungkook added casually. “Then more drinks. And then… drinks.”

Bohyung looked at you, you sipped your wine and smiled. Jimin grinned like he was thinking of something, pointing his fork at you. “So you’re the woman Jungkook’s been refusing to tell us about.”

“I wasn’t refusing,” he said. “I was… maintaining privacy.”

“You were suspiciously vague,” his friend replied.

Bohyung nodded sagely. “That’s how one know it’s real.”

You laughed. “It’s just sex and breakfast.”

“Which,” your friend added, “is your love language.”

“You’re not wrong,” you said.

You all laughed, and the food arrived. Plates of heirloom tomato salad, gnocchi bolognese, spaghetti carbonara and some pizza, something foamy and unidentifiable that Jimin immediately inhaled.

Conversation turned. As you four ate, you began swapping stories, the way people do when they’re warming into each other, half-guarded and half-trying to impress. Jimin told a story about a woman who got a tattoo of her boyfriend’s Snapchat handle on her collarbone and came back two weeks later to have it covered with a butterfly. Bohyung recounted an unhinged brunch in Mykonos that ended with someone’s prosthetic leg getting thrown into the Aegean Sea. Jungkook and you both listened, amused, like you were witnessing each other in parallel universes.

“So,” Jimin said, wiping his mouth, “what do you do, Y/n? Besides terrify waitstaff with your heart-shaped glasses.”

“I run a group of restaurants,” you replied, picking at the prosciutto pizza. “Italian-focused. Mostly in Korea but now I’m extending the name to Europe, Spain first.”

“Extending?” Jungkook looked over, realizing you were talking about running a chain of restaurants. “You never told me that.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You never asked.”

Bohyung smirked. “She’s modest about it. But also not.”

“I’m brilliant,” you said calmly. “But it’s tasteless to brag about it in front of the poor.” Jimin howled. Jungkook choked on his wine. “Don’t worry,” you added with a faint smile. “You’re all in middle class. You’re safe.”

Jungkook leaned back, watching you like he was seeing something new. “You ever slow down?”

You tilted your head. “Why would I?”

There was a beat. Jimin and Bohyung had wandered into a side conversation about wine regions, but Jungkook kept watching you.

“Just curious,” he said.

“Don’t be. It’s dangerous.”

You kept eating. The sun dipped lower, casting golden streaks across the tabletops. Conversation drifted to childhood memories… Jimin growing up in a weirdly talented family, Bohyung going to boarding school in Switzerland for some months with a boy who later became a YouTube magician, Jungkook mentioning the first time he ever got detention for tattooing his best friend’s ankle with a pen lid.

“You were probably a nightmare,” you said, grinning.

“I was the good kind of nightmare,” Jungkook replied. “The one with potential.”

“Still are.”

At the end of the meal, the waiter dropped off a paper and Jungkook reached for his wallet automatically.

“I got it,” he said.

You stopped him, raising a hand. “It’s okay. Really.”

He gave you a look. “What, you picking up dinner for four now?”

But before you could reply, the waiter returned. This time not with a paper, but with a carefully packed white paper box. “Y/n,” he said politely, “your tiramisù. From Alessandro. He says you should stop coming if you’re not going to drink his new coffee mix.”

You snorted. “Thank you, Hwan. But tell him I won’t stop by anymore.” You grabbed the paper he left behind, a note. “And tell him to stop sending notes about espresso ideas. I already hate them all.”

The waiter laughed nervously, grabbing the paper. “He made me do it, ma’am.” He said something like a goodbye before leaving to attend other clients.

Jungkook blinked, looking at you still. “This… this is your restaurant? You own Mariani’s food?

You smiled, tucking the box into your purse. “Yes. This is one of them.”

Jimin stared for a second, then let out a low whistle. “Well, shit. That is insane,” Jimin was grinning now. “Oh, this is so good. You got played, man.”

Bohyung lifted his glass. “To being casually dominated by powerful women.”

They toasted. The plates were cleared. The wine was finished. And you four said goodbye. And as you walked out into the warm Seoul evening a little fuller, a little looser, a little more intrigued… it was clear something had changed. Nothing dramatic. Nothing declared. But there it was again, that shift. You were no longer strangers in orbit. You were circling each other now.

The street was quiet in the way cities get just after midnight… not dead, but dreamy. Shop signs dimmed, terraces cleared, the distant hum of a scooter somewhere down the block. Jungkook shoved his hands into his jacket pockets as they walked, the night air cool against his skin. Jimin, beside him, was chewing on a toothpick he definitely hadn’t had at the restaurant, talking with the lazy rhythm of someone who’d three glasses of wine and was feeling chatty.

“That was fun,” his friend said, side-eyeing him. “Different. But fun.”

Jungkook let out a little huff of a laugh. “You’re shocked I know people with social skills and high class?”

“I’m shocked you’re sleeping with a Bond villain.”

He smirked. “She’s not a villain.”

“Kook. She got a dessert to-go from her own restaurant like a mafia Don. I think I actually heard the waiter salute her before talking to her.”

“She’s just confident.”

“She’s a one-woman boardroom,” Jimin said, turning to face him as they paused at a crosswalk. “And hot. In a scary way.”

“She is hot,” Jungkook nodded.

“And scary.”

“A little,” he admitted.

They crossed the street, the soles of their shoes tapping against the pavement. Jungkook’s apartment was fifteen minutes away. Long enough for Jimin to keep going.

“So,” the older continued, “you been seeing her since that night at the bar? I thought it was only from last month.”

Jungkook shrugged. “Off and on. Late nights, quick texts. Nothing… labeled.”

Jimin whistled. “And you like that?”

“I like her,” Jungkook said, and it came out easy. But slower, like it surprised him even a little.

His friend stopped walking. “Hold up.” He turned back. “You like like her,” Jimin repeated, squinting at him. “Since when?”

Jungkook scratched the back of his neck, suddenly a little self-conscious. “I don’t know. Since… now? Since she order without shame a bottle of $900 wine in clothes that cost the double of my rent, acting like a brat, and then proceeded to charm the entire table without trying?”

“She didn’t charm me.”

“You almost came in your pants when she threatened to have your tattoo license revoked.”

Jimin grinned. “It was sexy.” Jungkook laughed again, deeper this time. They walked a few more steps in silence. “You ever bring her home when Sunni’s there?”

Jungkook shook his head. “She doesn’t want that.”

“And you’re fine with it?”

Jungkook paused. “Yeah.”

Jimin gave him a look. “Liar.”

He sighed. “I don’t need her to meet Sunni. I’m not trying to… build something. It’s just casual.”

“Mm-hm.”

“But—”

“There it is.”

Jungkook frowned, like he finally realized something. He stopped in his tracks. “But it’s not just casual. I mean… I don’t think about casual people this much. You know what I mean?”

Jimin nodded slowly. “You’re wondering if she’d ever be cool with… your life.”

“I’m not trying to merge our schedules or introduce her to PTA moms. But… I like talking to her. I like the way her brain works. I definitely sleeping with her… And when I’m with her, I’m not thinking about anything else. That’s rare.”

“You sure she’s not just hot?”

“She’s not just anything.”

Jimin whistled again, low and slow. “Wow. So now you’re out here catching feelings.”

Jungkook chuckled, but didn’t deny it.

They passed a bakery closed for the night, shutters down and a chalkboard sign still out front: Fresh madeleines tomorrow, 8am. He barely noticed. His thoughts were somewhere else.

“She’s got this thing,” he said finally. “Like she’s been surviving on instinct and ambition for so long, she doesn’t know how to do soft. But then she says something about her life, or corrects your grammar mid-sentence, and it’s like… she feels more than she lets on.”

The older nodded. “And you like the challenge.”

“It’s not a challenge.”

“It’s totally a challenge.”

“Okay, maybe.” Jungkook smirked. “I like working for things, especially if it might become into something worthy.”

A few more steps, and his building came into view. A familiar doorway, the light in the lobby still on. But he didn’t go in yet. Jimin slowed beside him.

“So,” Park said, hands in his pockets. “Where’s this headed?”

Jungkook looked up at the sky, faint stars fighting with city haze. “I don’t know.”

“You want to know?”

He hesitated. “I’m not sure I want to ask that question yet.”

Jimin clapped him on the back. “Then don’t. Just keep walking. See where it goes.”

The younger smiled. “For a guy with two expired parking tickets and a Pikachu tattoo on his ass, you’re oddly wise.”

“I contain multitudes.”

Jungkook laughed, the kind that felt like exhale. They said goodnight, and Jungkook watched his friend head down the block. Then he stepped inside, past the quiet lobby, into the elevator, up to the soft hum of the home he’d made. In the hallway, he checked his phone. No new messages from you. No reason to expect one.

But still, he smiled. He liked not knowing. He liked wondering what might come next.

———

The nursing home was tucked into the edge of the city, just far enough to feel removed from it. All soft lawns, wide windows, and the dull hum of distant traffic. You hated the silence of it, the way the air felt padded, like every sound was being swallowed in real time. Still, you came. You always came. Your heels clicked against the polished floor as you walked through the hall, waving politely at the receptionist, who knew your name by now. Third floor. Room 312. Rosa had been moved here after the last fall, nothing dramatic, just enough to scare them both into admitting she needed more help than you alone could offer.

You slowed near the door. Took a breath. Composed your face.

Inside, the curtains were half-drawn, light spilling in across the pale blue sheets and the floral chair by the window. A small pot of pansies sat on the sill. You had brought them the week before. Rosa was sitting up in bed, her grey hair pulled into a soft bun, thick glasses perched low on her nose. She was reading, naturally. Some tattered old Italian novel that smelled like dust and secrets.

You knocked gently and let yourself in.

“Ciao, nonna,” you said softly.

Rosa looked up, and her face lit like a sunrise. “Ma che bella sorpresa, la mia ragazza!”

You smiled. “I told you I was coming.”

“You always say that. But sometimes you’re late.”

“I’m early.”

“Exactly.” You leaned in and kissed her on both cheeks, breathing in that familiar scent that felt like home. “You look thin,” Rosa said immediately, peering at you. “Have you been eating?”

“I eat…” she gave you a look. “Sometimes.”

“Sometimes is not enough. You think wine and money keep you warm in the winter?”

“They help.”

Rosa swatted at you with a tissue. “You look tired.”

“I am tired.”

“Well, sit. Come talk to me.”

You settled into the chair by the bed. You crossed your legs, brushed an invisible thread off your slacks, and folded your hands. For a moment, you just looked at each other, the old woman with her sharp eyes, and then you who grew up in her gaze.

“I missed you,” you said, and it came out a little softer than you intended.

Rosa’s expression gentled. “And I missed you. But I see your face everywhere. In the paper. On the website. On the restaurant menu.”

“I put your name to the restaurant, and you’re complaining about seeing me everywhere?” you said with a little grin.

“You should’ve put my first name, not the last.”

“You’re impossible.”

“You’re stubborn.”

You shared a smile, and for a moment, it was just the two of you, like it had been for years, in kitchens and backseats and long evenings when you had no one else to talk to but the sharp-tongued, iron-spined woman who’d raised you better than your own parents ever had.

You talked for a while, about normal things. Food. The weather. A nurse Rosa hated. A neighbor who coughed too loud.

“You should visit more,” Rosa said.

“I come every week.”

“Yes, but I’m old. I forget. You could lie and say it’s every day.”

“I could,” you nodded, “but you’d call me out.”

“Exactly.” There was a pause. Rosa adjusted the blanket over her knees and looked at you sideways “And the boy?” she asked.

You blinked. “What boy?”

“The one who bought you that ring. The one with the careful hair and the too-nice shoes.”

You exhaled. Of course. It was the tenth time she asked about him, the tenth time you were telling her it was over. The tenth time she wasn’t able to remember him, even after calling him a ‘soon’ one day.

“Oh,” you said lightly, “Jungwoo’s fine.”

“You still see him?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“It just… didn’t work.”

Rosa studied you. “He was a good boy.”

“He was.”

“Did he break your heart?”

“No.”

“Why are you lying?”

You looked down at your hands. “I’m not lying. We just weren’t… right. That’s all.”

Rosa didn’t press. She just nodded, once, like someone folding a letter and tucking it away. “You’ll find someone,” she said. “Someone who sees you. All of you. Even the parts you hide.”

“I hide nothing,” you muttered. Rosa gave you a look.“Okay, I hide a lot.”

“But you love hard, cara mia,” Rosa said gently. “Even when you pretend not to.”

You felt a sudden tightness in your chest, something like grief and comfort braided together. Someone who knew you like nobody and was forgetting that day by day. You reached over and took Rosa’s hand, just for a moment, and you two sat like that for a while, watching the light fade through the curtains. Eventually, Rosa started nodding off, her head slipping slightly to one side. You stood, quietly, smoothing the blanket, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“Ti voglio bene,” you whispered.

Outside, in the corridor, you leaned against the wall and pulled out your phone. You scrolled through your contacts, thumb hovering over a name you hadn’t tapped in months. Jungwoo Lee. You hadn’t spoken to him in weeks. Maybe more. But today… seeing Rosa, thinking about how he used to come with you, hold Rosa’s arm, smile and ask her about her old days in Italy… it stirred something. Not love. But remembrance. A gentleness you’d once felt for him. A part of you still wanted to share this day with him, even if it was just one small message.

You typed quickly:

Just saw Rosa. She asked about you. Said you were a good boy. I told her you were fine. Hope you are.

You paused. Stared at the screen. It wasn’t romantic. It wasn’t even emotional. It was just real. Your thumb hovered over “Send.” The… a buzz. A new message.

Jungkook: Are you free tonight? I was thinking pizza and maybe a bad movie.

You stared at it for a second. Your thumb wavered. You weren’t the type to see a movie and eat with a guy you were only fucking. You were just having casual sex not hanging out like friends. But then… you did what you didn’t expect. You backspaced the message to Jungwoo. All of it. Every word. You didn’t delete his number, you knew you never would, but you let the screen go dark and reopened the new thread.

Y/n: I’m free. But if the movie sucks, I’m leaving. With the pizza.

Jungkook: Deal. You just bring your cute ass, I’ll bring the pizza from the best restaurant in town

Y/n: Mine?

Jungkook: of course

You locked your phone. Slipped it into your bag. And walked out into the cooling evening, your heels echoing softly down the corridor. Rosa was right. Maybe you did love hard, even when you didn’t mean to.

When you drive to the road, you had already made up your mind about this arrangement again. It was becoming too neutral. You weren’t friends with benefits. You were people who knew each other at a bar and decided to keep fucking after one night stand. But now it was becoming a little blurry, like you were slowly becoming friends. And that wasn’t something you wanted from him. You had enough friends. And you didn’t fuck them, you didn’t want to. And if you wanted to keep fucking him you knew you had to make things clearer.

Maybe it was normal for Jungkook to be-friend his hookups but not for you. So, after deciding you weren’t going for a movie night that end up in sex, you made your mind in only going for sex and nothing else. You didn’t need a build up. You didn’t need something to want him or make small talk. You both knew what you wanted— and that was only sex.

By the time you reached Jungkook’s front door, your coat was already half undone and your thoughts were speeding past you. You weren’t sure what the night was. You didn’t want to know. You’d told yourself, clearly, after the text— pizza and a bad movie— that this was just another night of not dating. Not talking. Not thinking. Just fucking and going home. Clean and easy.

He opened the door before you could knock, like he’d been waiting.

“Y/n.”

“Hi,” you said, stepping past him before he could say anything else. The house smelled warm. Cedar, laundry, and the hot oil of pizza recently put out of the oven. His hoodie sleeves were pushed up to his elbows. There was a quiet hum of music playing from the kitchen. You ignored all of it.

You turned, pressed your hands to his chest, and kissed him. Hard. Jungkook leaned into it without hesitation, one hand gripping your waist, the other sliding up to the back of your neck. He kissed you like he meant it, like he always did, with heat and certainty and just enough gentleness to make your nerves ache. You pulled at his shirt and walked him backward toward his bedroom without a word.

No talking tonight. You didn’t want talking.

You two stumbled through the hallway, mouths never parting, until you hit the bed in a tangle of clothes and breathless, impatient hands. You climbed on top like you were making a point, like you were keeping control. And he let you. He always let you take control when you wanted to... But he never let you forget that he could take it back any time.

It was slow and fast, sweet and filthy. The kind of sex that lived somewhere in the middle. Not soft, not rough, just full. Like something had been building quietly and needed somewhere to go.

And after, you two lay tangled in the sheets, your skin still warm, breath still not all the way back. you stared at the ceiling. Jungkook shifted beside you, one arm thrown casually over his head.

“You ever go five minutes without trying to distract yourself?” he asked softly.

You turned your head. “Excuse me?”

“You came in like your mouth was on fire.”

You gave a lazy smile. “Would you prefer small talk?”

He turned his head too. “No. But I’d like to take you out.”

Your smile faded, just a little. But it was noticeable the way you froze for a second, he caught you out of guard for the first time and it make Jungkook feel a little amused that he made it.

“What?”

He shrugged, still catching his breath. “A date. Real one. Dinner. Somewhere that doesn’t involve you walking in like you’re trying to set me on fire.”

You sat up slightly, brushing your hair back. “Jungkook…”

“I’m not proposing,” he said calmly. “I just want to sit across from you in a place with chairs. Where we talk more. Where I don’t have to guess what version of you I’m gonna get just in bed.”

You blinked. “Why?”

“Because I like you.”

You looked at him like that word didn’t compute. “Jungkook.”

“What?” he said, propping himself on one elbow. “We’ve been doing this for a while now. You like me. I know you do. I like you, I know that.”

“I’m not… looking for something.”

“I didn’t ask you to be.”

“Then why—”

“Because I’m not seventeen,” he said simply. “Because I like seeing your face when you’re not trying to be clever. Because I think if we slowed down five percent, you’d actually enjoy us both more.” You let out a breath and looked away. The silence stretched. “Look,” he said, voice lower, steadier. “You can say no. You don’t owe me anything. But I’m telling you this… when I want something, I ask for it. I want to take you out. Like an adult. Not as a game. Not as a performance. Just us. Real.”

You were quiet for a long time. Then: “And if I say yes?”

“Then I’ll pick you up. Open your door. Probably insult your outfit in a charming way. Feed you something good. And we’ll talk. I enjoy talking to you, I’ll probably do more if I can do it for more than ten minutes after sex.”

You glanced over. “And if I say no?”

He smiled. “Then I’ll see you the next time you come over and pretend I didn’t care about the rejection.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. He was calm. Not cocky. Not trying to win. Just… standing there, emotionally and physically naked, still half-wrapped in the sheets, telling you what he wanted.

And he looked so fucking good doing it. So manly, so hot.

You pulled the sheet tighter around yourself, heart thudding a little faster now, but not from nerves. From something else. Something more dangerous.

“You’re not playing fair,” you murmured, not sure.

“I’m not playing at all.”

Another silence. And you thought he was the hottest when he was being clear and direct like that.

“Fine.”

Jungkook arched a brow. “Fine?”

“One date,” you said, holding up a finger. “If you call it anything else, I’m leaving mid-appetizer.”

He smiled, slow and warm. “Deal.”

You rolled your eyes and flopped back onto the bed. “You’re such a dad.”

He laughed. “And yet, you keep coming back.”

“Shut up.”

“Just saying…”

“Jungkook.”

“Yes?”

You turned your head toward him again. “You better take me somewhere good. I have big standards.”

He grinned. “Already made the reservation.”

SKJEIISJAJZJSSNS second chapter here!! guys thank u so much for ur sweet msg on the first chapter, they made me so happy >_< //€./‘ thank u hehe,, let me know how you liked this chapter too

also GUYS THIS IS THE SECOSN CHAPTERR,,, like u have NOOOO idea what’s about to come, just look how many chapter this fic has 🤭🤭🤭

so anyway tell me if you’re liking it so far;:; btw i had to tag so many people, i had to repost with the rest of them>_<<< thank u my children

taglist:

@sanguchitodeternera @yneisstuff @smoljimjim @almatiarau @annpeachy @mar-lo-pap @taetaecatboy @rrosiitas @httpsmei @jeonnabi11 @gigi4evr @sabrinahiddig @tatzzz-25 @slythermania @yuyu0y11 @ultracnt @baekpop05 @tinyxrose @satisfied18 @kissyfacekoo @synamon @smut02 @alextgef @lindsayjoy444 @ottergirl @imagine-this-motherfucker @dream-lover200 @astralovesu @dragons-flare @jungkookswifeeeeeee @jungkooknippleanddicksucker @yuniesluv @kookooquette @lanyia @dearkayzel-blog @katie-tibo @strawberryacethingz @jalexad @llallaaa @eyesforjungkook @wandabillywrites @flowinj @strawberrysweetness @osakis-gf @bambijuicee @dollyunjinz @jjeonjjk7 @focused-island @cravingforbangtan @elinaki92

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